I’m a huge advocate of energy and it’s one of my favorite things when I feel a connection with someone no matter how big or small.

Simple things like helping a friend with a broken leg. Giving someone a back rub. Talking about the unknown. Sharing childhood stories or trauma. A hug that lasts longer than usual – typically when one is needed. Bumping hands on the couch and being unbothered and allowing skin to touch and stay put. Just overall being vulnerable.

I love tapping into that specific energy for sure. I enjoy the radiance I feel from another person’s aura. And then mine intertwining with theirs.

It’s exciting when you feel it there. It wraps around you like a stimulated blanket. If it’s a romantic relationship, your heart flutters.

The energy we share during a first kiss is my favorite. First kisses are the best. They never get old.

Funny to think I was with someone for 6 years and after some time I didn’t feel those butterflies anymore.

What about the feeling when you’ve been interested in someone for a while and then eventually it gets more and more romantic. An innocent kiss that one day leads to intimacy. Now that energy I haven’t had in a very long time.

Every push and pull, every breath is synchronized, the chills run up and down each nerve in the body. Your souls are set on fire. Is that not beautiful? To be totally bare not only physically bare, but stripped down of ego and self conscious thoughts.

You are sharing a very intimate and very powerful energy together.

To think we can have sex and it not be intimate is a shame. I use to do that but found no gratification from such things. Then I took a year long tolerance break from hooking up with people and I found that to be one of the best things I have committed to. Your soul is not just an outfit to try on. The unique energy this soul provides is something someone must value.

The intimacy with this next person I do feel will be something extraordinary. Energy is meant to be shared and there’s nothing like positive loving energy that wants to feel the same in return.

What you give is what you get.

So caress your loved ones, pull them close, kiss them often and stare deep into their eyes. Shift the energy of the room with your thoughts – these thoughts can help radiate the energy you seek by amplifying your own.

No need to ask for permission. You’re not saying or doing anything externally. But your internal world is simply speaking to their internal world — which seeps into a sort of pheromonal phenomenon.

Animals smell fear, don’t they? Well we can smell love too.

Let’s tell the fucking gods they’re stupid – so they throw a tantrum and make a storm so big that nobody can leave.

Phantogram, Silversun Pickups and John Frusciante.

Angst.

All the pent up anger of a pre-teen laying on a roof on a gloomy fall day. Hiding out back to smoke some cigarettes underneath the patio of our North Carolina home where the forest was a never ending green. Inhaling the sweet relief of smoke next to my curled up dead tomato plants that grew as tall as my dreams and ambitions.

The fruit it bore was large and abundant with a thick skin. They laughed and underestimated the harvest, but the plants grew ten feet tall, crawling up to the second floor.

My father drunkenly swinging a gun, or a sharp blade – talking nonsense and demanding snacks that were never to his liking. A modern communist. An emotional rapist.

Angst.

Misunderstood angst that I now understand and have every single goddamn reason to justify.

I’d run into the forest alone to get away. And find magical corners where I didn’t think about anything for once as a kid. Until Big Brother would radio me. I would try ignoring it so much.

The creek in the yard would overflow sometimes. All the way to the lawn. I wanted chaos and I would get it.

In every moment of my upbringing there was some sort of chaos that I observed and felt deeply.

Maybe I like being mad. If the circumstances were uncontrollable, my anger could be.

And as most would want to silence the chaos, I embraced it.

I’d say fuck you to everyone in the back of my mind.

Drinking a Stella isn’t sexy? Fuck you.

I would do everything as much my own way as I could. With such attitude. And this is why I’m here.

The storm never ends. It comes and goes.

And when it comes, I say bring it motherfucker!

Here – typing.

You can hear the angst that a pen sometimes can’t scribble.

Looking dead into a screen. Not your hands, the paper nor the pen.

The fucking screen and your thoughts.

I wanna punch someone.

Angst is the gold fist. Those who deserve it, will get a taste.

And the blessed will get to kick back and stare at the gods in the sky with no fear.

Someone’s always going to test you.

Might as well have an attitude about it.

Do you pretend?

Because I pretend.

Mostly that the world has a bigger premise as to why we are here.

And that reason is energy.

Each passer by has their own energy. And they either give or take.

When someone crosses your mind, perhaps it’s their energy reaching out to you in the dark.

Because we want those the most we think about.

And we spiral down the rabbit hole wondering why.

Even the shortest encounter with someone is enough to expose you to their energy.

A firery and passionate soul forged at the bottom of the rabbit hole that radiates energy in such abundance.

I pretend some energies speak to each other.

And that some are meant to meet again.

Because the white rabbit eventually finds its way.

I wonder if I’ve even written about you yet – you’re simply an idea, an elaborate version of what could be. Both of us just characters in my mind with vaguely loose expectations.

Strange, but its overall comforting to pretend of the bigger picture.

And its in that corner of my mind I go to pretend.

Waiting in the grocery store line, or on long drives home.

Painting an imaginary reality.

Perhaps I could speak such a beautiful idea into existence.

Imagine.

You.

An eye catching, handsome, and ambitious cinematographer from some foreign country. Those hazel-green eyes like the place you came from. Eyes that are dangerous enough to capture your gaze and snatch your heart up.

You. A silly heartthrob covered in ink from around the world.

Simply a student, dedicated to his work, never get’s enough sleep, parties hard and works long hours on set with little pay.

A true dreamer. Wishing, wanting to be known and great.

Admirable.

A Los Angeles love story – one of many, I’m sure. Hence why you’re the writer and not me.

You tried kissing me the first time we met. You remembered where I grew up, although I swore I never told you. I held your hand and felt like a little girl. You liked checkers, as you gently pointed at my subtle top. Your favorite, you said.

You. A Silent mystery.

Me. An overwhelmingly stubborn lost force.

Yet you lurk around right in front of my fingertips.

But why do you watch from afar?

Two very compatible forces. With complex histories.

A cinematic, romantic story to one day be written by you.

But here I am, gripping the steering wheel going down the 405 – I start to imagine again.

Eventually, after many years of running into each other, we finally meet again on some magical night in the hills of Los Angeles, and you finally get to have that kiss, this time by the pool, overlooking the beautiful city as it glimmers on a warm summer night.

You have returned, and now we are cured, from the dark cloud that lingered deep in back of our minds.

Hard to take in this new reality. The weightless breath of fresh air each day.

Because there is nothing wrong with being wanted.

To want you.

I’ll speak it into existence.

This fairy tale seems too good to pass up on at least trying.

One day we will wind down Sunset Blvd towards the ocean, laughing.

With lightning in our hearts again.

This is love. A missed feeling I keep imagining with only you.

Three day Thanksgiving weekend. It was a Wednesday.

I got off of work and went shopping for a new outfit for a date later that evening.

A typical tattooed guy who was in a band.

He was a metal head or should I say “doom head”.

Very smart, talented and intense –

But also reserved, gentle and kind.

He also had a phenomenal taste in music and we hit it off seemingly perfectly. For our first outing he surprised me with tickets to a doom metal concert. A genre I have never experienced live.

When I arrived to his home it was a cold, rainy night in downtown LA.

He said he lived in the arts district and the address he had provided, brought me to a strange warehouse.

Ironically to add to the autumn gloom, it was raining. And I sat in my car with the doors locked. A little uneasy about my unfamiliar surroundings.

Texted him I was here and made a joke about this is where I would be murdered.

He laughed and said he would come right out.

When I saw him I stepped out of the car and we both approached each other. Luckily I had shared my location with my close friends. So there was a little security in that sense.

I told them to call 911 if I did not text back within the hour.

When I saw the guy, I was memorized with how handsome he was. This dark, well groomed figure with a soft smile. But his eyes now, were what really what caught my attention immediately.

They were bright icy blue with jet black eyelashes.

We hugged and proceeded to walk towards the warehouse.

I looked at him from the corner of my eye as we were dogging massive rain puddles in uneven concrete. He was sporting a nice pair of Doc Martin’s and a few layers on. A jean jacket with the hoodie over his beanie.

Total guitarist look and the conversation flowed like his love for this ever looping doom genre. I was certainly already captivated. But the awe ahead was only about to begin.

As we walked, he told me it was an old PBR Brewing building that they converted into lofts where international students, actors, directors and musicians resided.

We kept walking through the still, dark night.

I laughed and joked, “I’m sure it’s very nice and not creepy on such a night as this”. He then walked closer with me. It felt more comfortable.

When we came towards the entrance, he pointed to a narrow catwalk and said he would take me up there later. The views of the city were to die for.

As we walked through the narrow stairways, there were many foreign people bumping by and chatting in the corners of stairways.

Well dressed, cute German girls squeezed past us with warm laughs and smiles.

The moment we arrived at his gated door – I was in awe.

The ceilings were so tall with beautiful windows and heavy burgundy velvet theater curtains that would separate the kitchen from the “viewing room”.

He said he specifically lived with some of the directors, musicians, actors, and all sorts of other creatives.

And it was very evident.

There were guitars laying around everywhere. PA’s and other equipment. Paintbrushes and pianos.

All organized and tidy. Cats roamed high and low. In little hidden corners and crevases.

He said everyone in this community who lived here, all helped each other out.

It was so fascinating.

Being amidst a space like that was such an experience in itself that I am forever grateful for.

There were random movable stairways in his loft that would lead to other rooms. It almost seemed like a Harry Potter movie.

He showed me his cat named Dagger, which he was quite proud of.

A gray male cat with bright green eyes that looked like a lion.

Later we took an uber and went to the show.

During the concert we did not say very much but in between we would go outside and talk to the other concert goers.

When the show was over we just went back to his room and listened to music and asked each other many life pondering questions. Our answers differed but the respect was mutual and appreciated.

That night, the sensory experience was something I will never be able to forget.

Now let me tell you about the laziness aside from the chores.

Postmates for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Yeah. Just wait.

This man never makes a meal for himself other than instant oatmeal and scrambled eggs from time to time.

The smell of instant oatmeal mixed with protein powder is pretty awful…

He goes through so much pot in a week. Like A LOT. And I thought I smoked a lot.

Yo – I get it, potheads can be lazy….but that also doesn’t have to be a stereotype all the time.

“Bro, I wish Postmates would come up to the door and deliver….” he would say.

Oh wow….so inconvenient that you’re ordering dinner and you have to get off your ass for the 3rd time today…. to walk out the front door and into the street…. to go grab your food….. that you’re too lazy to cook or pick up yourself.

Oh my goodness. WHAT an inconvenience.

So one day I’m at home after doing a million things as always….

The door rings.

Dogs bark.

I go and see who’s there.

“Order for Cristian” He smiled

“Oh…. thanks!”

I grab the bag that he held up in front of me and said thank you so much!

Instantly I experienced a wave gratitude for something that wasn’t even for me.

And a simple thought raced by.

The kind of thought you just say out loud. Naturally.

“Gosh, that was so nice of him. You should give the guy a tip! He brought it all the way to the door.”

I then wondered how he got into the community without a fob?

Immediately after, my roommate snaps and says….

“maybe you shouldn’t tell me what to do.”

My heart sunk….

Why…..

Why did I deserve to be snapped at like that?

Was what I said that bad?

That harmful?

It was just a comment douchebag.

“You can do whatever the FUCK you want to do OBVIOUSLY. ‘Should’ does not mean you HAVE to….. it’s a fucking friendly suggestion”

I said with rage.

Really? A dollar. You couldn’t spare a dollar on Uber eats or whatever.

Douche.

Maybe it’s a small thing but a lot of small things added up to that uncalled for moment where I just gave up trying to be nice to him.

From that point on I realized what kind of a relationship he wanted.

I guess you really are a just a roomate. Not my friend.

Roommates suck.

And just like that an entire year has flown by since I moved out to California.

And just like that five months also flew by in this apartment.

As excited as I am for having made it this far – even getting a new license plate and drivers license – I have noticed a lot of weird things at this apartment.

I guess I say “weird” because it’s just the things I’m not use to.

The city I came from was very different. A metropolitan city, but it did not have the garbage, crime and just sheer sketchiness.

First thing I noticed living here was all the dog poop!! They provide waste baggies and waste stations for trash but the folks living here seem to just care less about taking care of the place they live at.

Next is the trash. Specifically my stairway.

I almost want to say, “You dumb fucks live here too!! Get it together and keep it clean!!!”

It has to be the same one scumbag who keeps leaving things in my stairway. This person puts trash in every little corner. In pipe holes. On top of emergency handles, flat out on the stairs, on window ledges and on the gate. Or any feasible corner that looks appealing to the filthy animal.

Most frequently it’s fast food bags thrown to the side. Or Starbucks/Jamba juice/Del Taco/In-N-Out cups everywhere.

But not limited to that. There are also left behind joints, cigarette buds and dog shit inside too.

I’m surprised no needles or condoms have been found – yet.

And to think that this was a luxury complex – which I mean, it is very nice! But the people living there just trash it.

The door handle even is about to seemingly fall off any minute from aggressive bashing I suppose.

There’s a random dog that runs around our street too from time to time. I guess the owner is just too lazy to walk it. But it sure freaks my dog out.

Someone commited suicide by jumping off the highest floor from the building across from ours.

Ambulances are always over every other day. Cops quite frequently putting out caution tape and just showing up whenever.

I even hear a TON of domestic violence.

One time my friend and I were in the hot tub outside and we overheard some of the language.

“YOU THINK THAT’S A CLEAN TOILET?! GET DOWN ON YOUR KNEES AND SCRUB!”

Woah – yeah. Pretty much as obvious as you could imagine. So blatantly abusive that it’s shocking to think anyone puts up with that!

Then the gunshots. I hear those about weekly now. My guy roommate is pretty much use to it by now. But it still freaks me out.

I one time heard shots in our own building.

You’d think I would move …..

I can’t say I live in a dangerous area either or a “bad” area.

I guess this really is just LA.

Insane to think so much crazy shit happens everyday here.

I think I might be becoming jaded too.

“If you dream of clear deep water, then your life will run smoothly, things are going to be as easy in life”

Look, I’m as much of a cynic as cynics get.

But I had a really nice dream last night. So naturally I Googled what it meant.

Seemed pretty nice to me. I would love for it to be true.

It’s been months since I’ve had a NICE dream. Usually they are not totally full blown nightmares – but just disturbing dreams of my parents.

This one was two random strangers I met in the hippy side of Topanga. Looks like they were a couple. They were both very attractive.

I liked their energy. We talked. They had just moved to this cute little house in the woods. Nestled off the canyon towards the beach.

Somehow I was there. I had no idea why, or how?

But soon enough I asked one question which led to another and they wanted to show me something they really enjoy doing. They had a name for it that I can’t remember.

But the woman said her boyfriend or husband does this a lot. Climbs mountains where there isn’t necessarily a trail. He does it barefoot and requires a lot of grabbing branches to get to where you want to go.

My instant thought was, well where are you going to go and what do you plan on seeing without a trail or direction.

She said curiosity leads to adventure which leads to beautiful findings.

Then we started climbing the mountain in their backyard.

We climbed and climbed and climbed. The hike looked strenuous but did not feel strenuous – granted I was asleep in dreamland, duh.

But once we got to the top, with the guy leading us, the woman turned around, lended me her hand and had such a warm smile.

I could tell they had been there before because the man pulled some vines out of the way, out of the rock – and as we went through a tunnel, the man jumped off what seemed like a sudden drop.

At first I thought he fell. But then I heard a splash.

When I approached the white light through the small, narrow and dark tunnel, I looked down first and then to the sides and all around.

It seemed like a castle – but not a home, was built in the rock. As part of the mountain’s foundation. Random smooth platforms you could not get to from the tunnel. Which made me wonder how I could go explore those platforms with wrought iron and perfect, long rectangular, marble slapped into the rock.

The best way I could describe it was as if an intricate marble balcony was made for a giant.

The whole time we did not speak on this adventure. It’s almost like we spoke through our energy.

Then the woman jumped and I was left alone for a moment. I soaked in the beauty of where they had just brought me to.

The ocean was so blue, for miles. The sun was shining bright. It was warm. And the cave was so dark. The side of the mountain was so intriguing and unusual. I couldn’t get over it.

And there was no shore down below.

No beach. Just water.

In that moment my feelings were so weightless. And I felt them calling me from under the water. I knew i had to jump. I wanted to. But I also wanted to stay up there as well. It was so beautiful. Yet I jumped anyway.

It was amazing. I felt like I was really there.

The warmth. There was so much warmth. Spiritually, physically, emotionally and visually.

And I tell you, visually WOW….. only in a dream. I would love to go back there again.

When I was underwater, it was extremely clear and the crystal blue water was so deep. You could not see the bottom.

We were the only ones there too. No fish around either. No birds in the sky when we were up in the mountain. There were no animals at all.

I felt so small in this big ocean. We were so deep in there. It was calm and beautiful.

I was able to look around again. The deep blue ocean stretched for miles underwater.

The sheer openness was so vast and majestic. I felt like I was truly in heaven. Maybe even in some parallel world. Not right off Topanga. Hah!

The silence, the warmth, the scenery, and the energy was my biggest takeaway.

The way it made me feel.

But then we swam up to the surface…

and before I reached to the top……..

– I woke up.

What a therapeutic dream. Give me more. I could stay there forever.

The other day I had witnessed yet another suicide. From my previous post about a month ago, someone jumped off the building across from my work – this time… someone jumped off the building across from my apartment.

A loud gate-like thud onto a metal awning –

I think after hearing it twice, the distinct sound of a dozen bones snapping violently
is charred into my memory. Like breaking branches in the fall.

As I watched out my balcony, cops and firefighters shined flashlights over the twisted body. It was so obvious. The whole block was observing. Ten or so people just standing on the curb in utter shock.

For me, I wondered if I was jaded based off the first suicide I witnessed.

Most people don’t even see ONE in their lifetime. I now had seen two in such a short span of time.

Maybe I wasn’t jaded at all. I was bitter. But why?

I got into a spiff with guy I was talking to at the time.

That night, we argued over a grumpy comment I had made.

It was about the people standing outside after the body, ambulance, cops, firefighters and everything was over. The scene was done.

All I said, was “Why the fuck are they still out there?”

He took this as a mean comment, which sure – may sound like it at face value. But I was just speaking out loud. I did not intend for it to be mean. I just didn’t understand. I didn’t comprehended.

Why were they still there. Conversating.

To me it was like beating a dead horse. I didn’t get it. To think this is how some people cope – because I don’t cope.

I suppose it was just a comment out of frustration.

After I made the comment and we argued, I went to go let my dog outside for a minute.

When I came back, he was gone.

The next day I woke up and checked my bank account. I knew I was getting paid.

And just like most folks, bills have yet to be handled.

I sent my roommate some money I owed him.

Paid my credit card off.

Put money aside for rent.

Paid some bills.

And then – was left with almost nothing for two weeks.

Had nothing to throw into my small savings.

My anxiety was already high. Lingering from the night prior. A combination of the boy, the fight, the death and now the debt.

My bank account was no longer flourishing. And it seemed like I was under paid. So at work I decided to check the breakdown of my hours.

They weren’t paying me for my overtime. And they were cutting some of my hours each day.

Jesus….

This isn’t the first time either I’ve worked at a company that has done that. Is it really that crucial to save a few bucks and just say “oops” to the employee. Thinking they would not notice? Makes me not trust cooperate companies enough as it is….

Later that day I got chewed out by a woman in my office. She’s always so hostile to me and everyone in the office is starting to notice.

One girl said, “Man you’re very patient”. And proceeded to tell me that I should speak to my boss and have this situation handled so she would get off my back. To stop being rude to me for no reason.

I told her I wouldn’t even bother.

Why? Because that makes her win. Not to mention, what’s my boss going to do? Set a meeting up with the three of us…

Make it awkward.

And she’ll just proceed to kindly point out her point of view and mention that she was only trying to explain something. That woman would do it with a smile. Play the nice card.

Some people just know how to play the game.

And I choose not to participate. So yea – I guess I am patient.

I’ve always thought I was a generally patient person, however I’m not very patient with myself.

After two days of anxiety, stress and just an overall bad 24 hours…. I had some time to reflect on how I was taking things.

I caught myself talking to some friends via text.

Explaining my bad day.

And I noticed that it was almost like I was just trying to find reasons to be unhappy.

I was literally listing all the things that were bothering me and when I noticed it was really just 3 temporary things, I stepped back and realized it’s just a bad day. Sure, I still feel lonely a lot of times and sad – but it doesn’t have to be that way.

I guess I just have to keep trying. That’s all you really can do anyway.

And then I had an epiphany. I have to try harder! Not just shrug my shoulders and say it.

You know when you’re driving and someone super slow is in front of you? Usually most people blurt somethings stupid out.

“Can you move over fucker?!”

“CAN YOU GO ANY SLOWER?”

“I’M ABOUT TO RUN YOU OFF THE ROAD!”

DUDE. It could be anything and in the moment – but do most people mean it? I’d like to think of course not.

Of course I would not reallyyyy run someone off the road for no reason. Just cause I’m ticked. But I sure as hell think it’s okay to have a thought like that sometimes.

We’re human! We get ticked.

Another example –

“Man that guy smells. He smells like a sewer rat…gosh take a bath”

My brain: “What if he just lost his home and is trying to get back on his feet… what if he does not have access to a shower. What if he was just out working in the lawn and he JUST needed a shovel from target?”

Damn.. woman… chill…..

Another scenario.

“Man that girl is pretty…but she needs to loose like 30 pounds.”

Brain: “Leave her alone. Let her do what she wants with her body. Stop judging so much! Maybe she’s working on it, but maybe she isn’t – just stop body shaming!”

And tons of similar scenarios.

I judge, and judge, and judge….

Yet, people all judge. Even those who say they don’t – judge silently.

I didn’t mean anything by being mad at my neighbors the night of the suicide.

But I don’t think I am a bad person. I really am understanding even though I may not exactly follow the elementary school “think before you speak” slogan. I guess I should try harder.

And I apologize for hurting feelings. But behind any comment has some truth.

Look – I by no means am perfect. When I am out alone, I look at other people’s imperfections and say it to myself. Or maybe when I’m bored at a meeting…. I am silently judging you. However, I am very aware that others might be judging me too.

Shit, I judge myself a ton as well: I could loose some weight. I fucked up and box dyed my hair like a retarded teenager this time, I need to get it re-done. I have a shit ton of lint on my black clothes from my dog. It looks like I rolled out of bed. Where is my brush? Fuck… I forgot to put deodorant on this morning. Do I smell? Idiot. What an idiot. Who’s the idiot? …fucking me.

Then when I say something dumb in a meeting that has no merit or meaning. Wow. Even more dumb. Go crawl under a rock and die.

Yeah, I say shit like that to myself… but do I mean it?! No – thought sometimes there is some truth to it.

Maybe next time be more prepared before you plan on saying something in the meeting. Also wake up earlier and make sure you look fine for work. Don’t forget your lint roller and hey…. everyone forgets to put on deodorant sometimes. Keep an extra one in your bag. Or some perfume at your desk drawer. Something.

You can do better.

In a nutshell, I don’t think humans are inherently bad. But there are bad people out there. And I understand them too. A murderer or a rapist – as fucked up as they are, in their head they did what they thought was right. In their head that is what they needed. Obviously they act this way for a reason – maybe they got raped when they were younger – over and over, and it’s like a payback to the world or just what they are use to. Maybe it’s a chemical imbalance in their brains. Their reasons, even if they are fucked up – are valid if they’re not inherently malicious.

Everything has a purpose and a reason.

Good and bad and ying and yang. Good and bad people. It all works out. You have to have a little bit here and there. Without one there really can’t be the other. I mean would anyone know any better?

Then there’s the people that are trying to figure out if they are a good or bad person.

As a kid I grew up with a racist, homophobic, and extremely judgmental old soviet union dad. And I had a extremely kind, loving, compassionate, caring, nurturing mother….. who was easily influenced by my father’s negativity and lashful comments.

And I was a young kid that had some of these things rub off on me. Naturally.

I was only a kid though.

And as an adult, I want to be better. And I’m confident I will be with time.

Had someone merely asked me if I really felt like that person was ugly…..I wouldn’t bat an eye and say OF COURSE NOT.

To me, they may not be personally attractive, but I am sure they are beautiful in their own unique way. I would love to get to know their backstory and fall in love with who they really are.

Gosh. If only people knew I’m not a jerk. I grew up with an awful role model for that aspect of my life.

My dad was very judgmental. But he also grew up with tons of speed bumps as a child which shaped him into who he is today. He did not have a father really. His mother neglected his attention.

I feel bad for him. I wish we could get along. But it’s extremely painful accepting a narcissist. Although, I’m not sure if he is changing based on our few bleak conversations over the years. I do think though, he is realizing all of the mistakes as he lives alone in his mother’s St. Petersburg home. There was a long time where he grew into this grumpy, mean old man. One who was not really accepting. Not nurturing or kind. Well, kind….in a weird way that he thought was right.

I don’t know that he ever wanted to be that kind of guy. I sure hope not. I think at the core he’s a good person that just wants to be loved. I know he’s lonely. But it’s toxic talking with him and it pains me. I think it’s easier just to stay away from him. He does not think about how his words may hurt people and how the things he says and has said is out of line….a lot of times. Especially towards me.

Sigh….

But on the contrary, I have my mother to thank for my true deep roots of good morale.

Gosh I miss her.

I need to be more like her. But still me….because I am not just a 50/50 blend of my folks. I have to remember what mom taught me, because she had an interesting way of teaching. I just observed her grace in any situation, never loosing her cool. MAN that is a skill. And my father the opposite, blowing up every other day like a nuke. It was pretty conflicting having such opposite parents.

How the hell they stayed together blows my mind to this day. I know for a fact they argued so much, I begged my mom to divorce him when I saw how much he made her cry behind closed doors. But never in front of him. She was so strong. She was diplomatic.

Man, I could go on a rant about how great my mom was. But she had flaws too.

Either way, I need to be better. Especially with the flaws I obtained from my father especially.

Why?

So my children will be better people.

I would hate for them to feel the way I did when my father would say an awfully harsh comment to me about an innocent bystander. Or degrade the waitress for the way she talked, looked, and was in the weeds during the lunch rush. I would always tell my dad – “dude, cut her a break.”

The racist jokes.

The Jew jokes.

The gay shaming.

Yet worst of all was denying it all. Making it into a big joke and to be told to lighten up.

Yet I do some of the things that he did back then. Definitely on a MUCH lighter scale.

I use to straighten myself up real fast when a judgmental thought raced through my head that clumped people into a category.

I get chills thinking how much worse of a person I could have been if I didn’t have my own strong personality and backbone. Could you imagine if I actually believed what he was telling me?

HATE is taught, man…. I believe that ever so genuinely.

And I swear I will not have children until I am a better person.

Judgement is such a tough thing to master. Because there is good and bad and every kind of judgement in between.