Friday, May 1, 2020

For the first time ever… I shared this with another human being. I figure I’m ready to write it here.

Most nights… when I’m very tired… I fantasize about ending it all… about finally knowing the answer to the ultimate question. No human being can answer it… we all have our own opinion. Is there a God? What’s there after life? We all think we know the answer to the former… and I love the idea of having the answer to the latter.

The other day I saw my son walking away. I see he’s pretty tall… about 5’1″ if I had to guess. He will be 13 later this year. He’s still a kid. His shoulders are those of a kid, in spite of his being almost tall enough to pass as an adult Mexican. I figure he needs his dad around at least another 17 years… for whatever reason.

I lead a pretty good life. Even 1.5 months into the pandemic and without my daily dosage of soccer I know I can’t complain. I still get to go out and jog/walk. The weather is getting much better. But I can’t seem to help it… in those minutes right before I fall asleep, I wonder.

Posted by dusky at 12:46 pm [Permalink]

Sunday, August 25, 2013

The problem with my way of thinking is that I consider this life “it,” with nothing beyond it; no re-incarnation; no heaven or hell; no happy reunions with those we’ve lost. If we disagree on this, advantage you. 🙂

On the plus side, I don’t get to save more on car insurance, but I do get to enjoy three extra hours per week not having to fulfill any religious obligations… and that’s without taking into account being guilt-tripped into LIKING Jesus-themed images on facebook. Advantage me. 😀

But back on topic:

Posted by at 10:30 am [Permalink]

Saturday, August 6, 2011

Dear Son,

You will probably never hear this from me until these two things are true: you are old enough (20-something?) and ask for my opinion on the subject. Nevertheless, let me come out and say it: I do not believe in God. I wish that you were taught right from wrong without there being a mention of a God or promises of a happy afterlife. You can be good without God, and I’m being intentionally ambiguous. “Good” as in “happy,” but also “Good” as in “love thy neighbor” (this concept exists across many religions, so don’t take my statement as supporting Christian values as much as supporting an admirable human quality).

I wouldn’t try to instill in you atheistic values, but neither do I like the fact that you are being indoctrinated. You are a regular churchgoer. I wish, instead, that you were exposed to all different points of view. If after this exposure you find Christianity to be your call in life, then so be it. Whatever makes you happy… without harming others… or even thinking less of them.

Unless they really are stupid. 🙂

Posted by at 11:39 pm [Permalink]

It’s that time of the year… a new post on my blog.

For the past 12 months I have worked as a web developer. The idea of me doing this for money never crossed my mind, let alone doing it as my primary form of income. All those “wasted” hours coding seemed to have paid off. If I could tell younger generations anything, it would be that you need an education and a Plan B. Whatever that Plan B may be, it also looks good to have a degree in your resume. It’s the only reason why I believe I stood out and got hired each time I interviewed for a job.

That’s not to say life has been perfect in terms of work. At my first job as a web developer I lasted only a week. I was miserable. I was asked to work in a Windows environment in a cramped space. But I could not quit. On my last day there, I was told to take a couple of days off. I later found out that they were going to give another person a shot, and I sought an easy way out. I was paid for my time there and moved on.

A couple of weeks later I was being interviewed for another web development job. This time I stipulated that I would only work in a Mac environment… that I would bring my own equipment if needed be. I was called back a couple of days later and imagine my surprise on my first day of work when I saw a 27″ iMac on what was to become my desk. One of the worst experiences in my life had led me to one of my best experiences. On top of that, I would be earning three dollars more per hour, with a shorter commute, and in a much more casual environment. It was Friday, August 6, 2010. I would continue to be a happy employee for several months, until I received some bad news on Monday, March 28 — our boss was no longer in the need for an “internet” department and was letting five of us go. He would pay us for the rest of the week, but we were advised to find a job, and we were given permission to look for one during working hours.

It must have been 2 or 3 in the morning of the following day when I woke up and was unable to fall back asleep. Less than twelve hours had passed since hearing the bad news, so lack of sleep was expected. I answered an ad for a web developer, explaining that I had just been laid off and touched each of the ad’s requirements, explaining why I would be a great candidate for the job. Less than 48 hours after finding out that I was being laid off I found myself seated next to two younger men, and their boss sat across from us. I had been nervous in the hours leading to the interview, but once I was seated in front of them they may have never met a more confident man. The job was mine.

I’ve come a long way as a web developer in the past 12 months. I spent many hours trying to fix broken things. I still stumble every now and then, but that sort of thing is inherent to what I do. I’ve come to the point that I could actually thrive in my new field of work. I have adapted well to a shoddy economy. I wish everyone was as fortunate as I have been. I suppose that bad experiences help us appreciate good experiences. What doesn’t kill us make us stronger, right?

Posted by at 10:31 pm [Permalink]

Thursday, May 6, 2010

I almost feel as if I’m being tested, and I have reason to believe I’m failing miserably; or passing with flying colors. I haven’t yet made up my mind about it. What I have experienced the last 24 hours make me sympathize with a great percentage of those behinds bars… or six-foot under. A carnival man, a Subway guy, and two soccer players… the people who could have kicked my ass had they taken the initiative. It seems to me that my attitude places me in danger but at the same time spares me. It is a paradox if I have any idea what one is.

Guy driving a trailer through a park makes several maneuvers in a very tight space. He’s setting up for the weekend carnival but nobody is guiding him or the people on the ground. My soccer mates move aside to make way for the truck but nobody has any idea which way he’s headed. I simply stand there and watch him bring his big truck less than four feet away from me. I stare at him and mouth something. No use saying it loudly as he can’t hear me over his engine: “God-damnnnnn….”

I enter one of three Subways I visit every weekday morning. At first I’m relieved to see a new face, because it means I won’t have to deal with the Subway guy who talks too damn much. My joy lasts only a few seconds, as he comes through the doorway and starts talking to me. Today he had a special way of irritating me… he started telling me that his boss had gotten mad at him because he charged me for a small drink, not the medium-sized drink I actually took. I had no intention of stealing from him, or even confusing him. Thinking he was saying those things in an “It’s all right, though” tone, I told him that if his boss was bitching about losing a few cents to me, he could let him know I could take my business elsewhere. Then he said, “It’s fine, just don’t do it again.”

To me that sounded as if he was placing the blame on me. Since I had taken the cup before he had even taken my debit card, I was under the impression he would bill me for it whether or not I said “I’m taking a medium-sized drink.” But he was busy talking to another customer about how he could go about getting the welfare office to help him pay his bills, so maybe he didn’t realize I was taking a medium-sized cup. In any case, I felt that would have been his fault, and I came close to mentioning to him this morning my recollection of yesterday’s events detail by detail. However, I simply left it at “It was your responsibility to charge me for it.” Of course, his last words were, “It’s alright, just don’t do it again.” I guess I’m glad I didn’t respond with, “Do what, motherfucker?” By that I mean that I have made over 300 visits to Subway and done exactly the same damn thing and I know I’m doing nothing wrong, as I expect them to charge me for it, and they always do… or so I thought.

Today, while playing soccer, one of my teammates kicked the ball out of the park and didn’t had the courtesy to go get it. I don’t know what came over me, but I began telling him to go get it, not to abandon it as he had done with my ball a few months ago. He responded with “What? I can’t hear you.” I said the same thing but in a louder, coarser tone, and this brought us as close to a fight as I have been in months, or even years.

Less than 30 minutes later a thuggish player on the opposing team did a dirty tackle on me, but I avoided it and landed on his leg. Rather than keeping my mouth shut, I told him he should know better than trying that on me, and that next time it would be worse for him. Again, another confrontation where I find myself only a word and a swing away from giving or receiving a good ass-kicking.

I’m actually typing this at my parents’ house, and so I may be hasty in writing about today’s events when the night is not over. I still have a 20 minute drive home and anything can happen. Perhaps I would be very wise to place my tail between my leg and look down rather than face every situation with a vicious face.

I wonder if this is what they call a mid-life crisis.

Posted by at 8:49 pm [Permalink]

Monday, December 7, 2009

It occurred to me yesterday that my inspiration to write comes when I sit in my car, waiting for my soccer friends to show up to the park. If I didn’t cherish my MacBook so much, I’d haul it around everywhere I go.

I’ve actually been writing these past few months, just not something that is legible to the common eye. I’ve been honing my PHP/HTML/CSS/MySQL skills as a way to make money on the side. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll know enough to make a great living out of it.

Haha, I just remembered why I stopped writing on a daily basis… it always took me so long to write just a couple of paragraphs!

Posted by at 9:13 pm [Permalink]

Monday, June 1, 2009

The other day my father joked that every man on Earth is reserved five women and one homo. I will conveniently ignore the part about the homo and say this: there’s probably a mofo out there enjoying my share of the female populace. Could it be Antonio Villaraigosa?

Posted by at 9:17 pm [Permalink]

Friday, May 29, 2009

If I can only say one thing about kindergarteners, it is that they are easily impressed. Today I thought I came upon further proof when a student showed me something he wrote: “My tetr is btfo.” I looked at him and saw the best of intentions. Nonetheless, I responded, “I’m not beautiful!” He said, “No, not you, Ms. Roberts!” He was, of course, referring to my assistant. 🙂 If you saw his mannerisms, you can imagine that my disappointment lasted only two seconds. Hehe.

I still cannot believe that there are only three weeks left in this school year. A teacher’s first generation of students is almost always the most special. And I have done a bad job of taking pictures to remember them by.

Posted by at 11:19 pm [Permalink]

Sunday, May 17, 2009

After sitting on the kitchen table for almost a month, I finally made time to activate my new CITI Mastercard. The person on the other end of the phone spoke with an Indian accent. After telling me that my account had been activated, he proceeded to tell me about a special offer. Although my answer to “special offers” is always no, I didn’t want to cut him off, so I let him deliver all the lines. As I sat there listening, I wondered if speaking English was for him as troublesome as it sounded. As a man with an accent himself, I can tell you that talking non-stop is tiresome and at times even frustrating. Part of me let him speak his mind hoping it would lead him to ask himself, “Is this what I want to do for the rest of my life? Talk for a living, when every syllable I utter takes great care and effort?” After he paused, I said, “No, thank you.” He proceeded to read me another offer…

Posted by at 10:30 am [Permalink]

Sunday, May 3, 2009

It just may be that I have not experienced many things in life, but one of the saddest things I’ve seen is… a woman in her late 40s leading a young man by the hand into what may be their home — a grassy area next to a freeway. This is not a regular young man… he seems to have down syndrome. I can only imagine the plight of a mother who will likely pass to better life before her child can fend for himself.

Posted by at 5:56 pm [Permalink]


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