iPod Time Machine

This little baby holds the key to the past. Walking home from work at 1am, I put it on shuffle, and brace myself for the unexpected. Most of the world [or at least the neighborhood] is asleep, and I'm slowly making my way to my own bed. A song will come on, and memories rush to the surface like floating bodies that refuse to drown.

A song I haven't heard in years will play, and I'll be amazed at how well I still remember the words. With each line comes a memory: Me sitting on the carpet in her living room. She's making tea. "Did she just say 'ecstasy?'" She asks me. "I doubt it. She's singing in Portuguese," I reply. I can smell the Yankee Candle she lit, and feel the pain in my gut cuz I've been holding this fart in since we got back from the movies. We'll lay on her bed for hours. Talking. Kissing. Enjoying each others company. Just being. Together. Those are the things I miss.

A new song starts, and a new memory plays in my head: Saturday nights. Bolero flowing from the speakers. Dim lights, the woozy feeling of 3 glasses of wine & the taste of a cigar on the walls of my mouth. Talking about subjects that nobody cares about, but subjects that would never be pronounced except for at that moment. Meeting interesting people that I know I'll never see again. Never wanting the night to end because I know that it would mean I'd have to return to my own reality. I need to have more nights like those.

Fast forward to the next song. I'm at the gym, on the treadmill. This song fuels me. I can't feel the burning in my legs, heart and throat. No. I CAN feel them, but the burning sensation propels me forward. In my mind, a silent film plays. Snippets of faces and places. I watch this and listen to the song as I go faster and harder. I'm a machine. I don't tire. I don't hurt. I just go. A bead of sweat rolls into my eye. It stings like a motherfucker. I go faster. Harder. The song reaches a crescendo. I go faster. Harder. I imagine a camera crew recording me. My peers are watching me. I go faster. Harder. I move in sync with the beat. I feel the calories melting away. I feel the air travel in my nostrils, thru my lungs and out my mouth. I feel invincible. Its 1am and I feel more alive then I did 12 hrs ago. I want to do push-ups. I want to call friends and go clubbing.

My iPod is the shit.

Otro Año

"I’m 25, and yet I don’t feel like an adult. I don’t think I ever will. I don’t think other adults feel like adults. Do I need to pay a mortgage? Will that make me feel like an adult? Do I have to father some kids? Is that the trick? I used to think having a lot of worries and having all the answers made you an adult. But I’ve worried all my life, and I now know that nobody has all the answers."

That was an excerpt from something I wrote on my MySpace profile a few years ago. Today I turn 28. I'm happy to tell you that I STILL don't feel like an adult.

Ghosts of Talents Past

At least three times this week I was reminded of what a quitter I am. I have to admit, that's one of my biggest flaws. I'm quick to quit. Don't get me wrong, quitting isn't my first instinct. Nonetheless, I'm a quitter. In recognizing that, I feel shame. Still, many times, it was because of quitting that better things became available to me.

A few days ago, a friend calls me and says she needs to hand in a poem for class. The subject: her. The due date: the next day. The time: 1:48 in the morning. I can't work with that kind of schedule! I can't write unless I'm completely in love with what I'm writing. All I'm thinking is how I haven't written a poem in years. How could I possibly be of help? She assures me anything would help. The only thing I have to give her is a link where several old poems are posted. She thanks me and goes to work. I'm left there to look over old poems and relive old emotions.

Another day, some time this week, a friend posts something on my Facebook wall. Its a friend I hadn't seen since 2002, when I dropped out of college, and recently got reacquainted with thru said site. Her post? The title to a story. I was taken aback. How did she know about this? She tells me she was organizing all her old papers and came across a print out with my name on it. I asked her if she was interested in reading more. The story had turned into 10 chapters since we last spoke. Upon emailing her, she replied with kind words which moved me to open Microsoft Word and reread a few pages.

Yesterday, a friend texts me, "I found the song u made and sent me a while ago. I'll email u the song later." Yes, I wanted to be a rapper back in high school. I laugh at the thought. Back then, it was all I wanted. I have my "demo" in my iTunes library, and I cringe with embarrassment as I listen to it. But don't get it twisted, I had skills.

I remember vividly as I chased each dream with the passion only ignited by the idea that you could do anything you wanted. Its what we're told as kids. "You can do anything you put your mind to." "You can become anybody you want to be." That may very well be true, but the cynic inside me thought it was a joke.

Watching a movie today, I think I realized what the adults of my past were trying to say. A child is like a clean slate. Our parents, teachers, after school programs, sports, books, movies, etc...ALL those things are there to show us the possibilities that are available to us. We can do any of those things. Its simply up to us to want to do it. My problem was I wanted to do everything.

Update

Wow. How time flies. My last post was almost 5 yrs ago. I don't know what suddenly made me want to write tonight. I don't know why I stopped back then. I can't remember why I started in the first place. I've always expressed myself in some way thru the written word. Sitting here now, I wish I would have saved them all. It would be nice to have them. Now I know why ppl keep journals.

I'm so curious; so nosy; so eager to learn the story of someone else. I've read many blogs over the yrs. I've met a lot of interesting ppl and heard all their stories. One thing I can say is, we've all got stories to tell. Even the most mundane can be entertaining. I wish we'd ALL blog, or just chronicles our lives in some way. I'm slightly jealous of those that never gave up on their writing. Its evident I gave up on mine. Not entirely. More like I gave up on recording it. But there's almost something pretentious in thinking ppl actually care to want to read your story. Fuck it! Let's be pretentious. I'm clearly talking outta my ass. I don't know when my next post will be. I'm notorious for only doing things when I REALLY wanna do it. Who knows how I'll feel tomorrow. I might ignore this blog for another 5 yrs. Better take advantage while I'm in the writing mood.

A lot has happened to me in the last 5 yrs. Of course. It'd be a shame if I were the same person living the same life as 5 yrs ago. I am 27. I'll be 28 in exactly 2 months. I still look towards the future with excitement. I'm not afraid of maturing. I AM afraid of getting old, but that will have to be another entry.

I just realized that I ALWAYS looked towards the future with excitement. Almost as if my present wasn't as satisfactory as I'd like, and that in the tomorrow of my mind, everything would work itself out. Is that stupid of me? Is that being hopeful? Optimistic? I'm not sure.

My present is pretty satisfactory. Sure, there are lots of things I could do without, but WHOSE life is perfect?

Less than a yr ago, I got my own place. I'm a homeowner. I'm quite proud of myself. From my blog entries from 5 yrs ago, you'd see that I was a hard worker. It paid off. I'm now working 2 jobs to make ends meet. My days are hectic and filled with stress. I have dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep that I don't think will ever go away. I'm not complaining. Ok, maybe slightly, but I have to let it out somehow.

I'm still single. In the last 5 yrs, there were a couple of ladies that came in and out of my life. None special enough to make a huge impact. If anything, they've reinforced what I've known all along: you can't really rely on some one else for your happiness. Yeah, that's gonna be another post too, cuz I don't really want to get into that now.

I've become a lot more honest. Not just with myself, cuz I feel I've always been true to myself. I'm being more honest with others. I've never been a liar, or at least too much of a liar, but I'm really speaking my mind. In the past, I'd feel a certain way or think something and never open my mouth. I'd just take everything in and keep moving. I've come to speak my mind and how I feel a little more liberally these days. I think my ability to speak my mind goes hand in hand with my newfound ability to not care what ppl think. I don't know when it happen or how I picked it up, but I'm oblivious to other ppls' thoughts about me. Yes, I still like to make a great impression and I like to please, but when I know I did everything in my power to show you what an awesome guy I am, if you cant accept it, I no longer care. I have to say, not caring is quite liberating. It has allowed me to live my life as happily as I currently am. Its also made me numb to a lot of things, and again, that's another post. Whew! I hope I get to write about all these topics I'm putting on the backburner. I hope I feel the desire to speak on them.

I guess this is it. I feel the motivation to write leaving me the more I type. I guess I'll leave it at that. See you soon. Hopefully.

Stand clear of the closing doors.

Just getting in from a very long night. I'm tired, and yet I'm restless. Tomorrow and the days that follow are unfilled, and it feels like one of those days when you imagine you'll live forever. Riding the train at 3 in the morning is a trip. Everything seems like a distorted version of itself from 12 hrs earlier. I sit with my head in my hands, counting the stops in my head. I look down at my feet and study the scuff marks on my tims. Each one has a story to tell. The scuff marks, not the tims. Everyone looks like sleepwalkers..they all have the same expression on their faces. They wish they could snap their fingers and be home. I smile knowing I'm almost home, and that when i arrive, I'll just go to sleep and wake up whenever the hell I want. Today is officially May 1st. I think back to 3 yrs ago on this day..it was a day just like today. Oh how times have changed. I'm stronger and wiser, yet still weak and immature. Sometime after my 4th Corona, I realized I dont understand girls AT ALL. I never will. They speak in codes. They cant make up their minds. They're scared of getting hurt..and meanwhile, we're all doing the same..revealing just enough of ourselves so that ppl can get to know us, but withholding enough so as not to get burned. I have to find new ways to spend my money. Its all good and dandy while I'm in the act..but on this long train ride home, I cant help but imagine more productive ways of having fun. Is anybody else awake right now? I'm the quasi-insomniac in the city that never sleeps. I'm off to catch some Zs...hopefully.

Leave a message after the tone...

Today, I came home from work early and the strangest thing happened. While happily making tuna fish sandwiches, the phone rang. I would have ignored it, but something made me check the caller id. It was a name I havent heard or thought of in 2 yrs. I wondered if I should pick up or let him talk to the machine. I picked up and we got to chatting. We use to work together back in my Entenmann's days. Apparently, things werent going too well, and he was calling to offer me a job. I greatly appreciated the offer, and I told him that. Still, I couldnt help but remember vivdly how I felt used while working there; how I disliked the ppl I worked with, and how happy I was when I 'turned the page.' He asked how I was doing, and I made it quite clear that I was doing very well for myself and had no intentions to go down a beaten path. The call made me realize that when you are down and out, you are so smothered with your problems, its the only thing you think of. In the end, "everything's gonna be alright." Its so true...it really is.

...Or Something Like That.

So much has happened since the last time I've posted. I'm actually happy that I'm out there living, and not on here thinking of what to write about. But here I am, I have to put this up before I forget. Last week, I was hit with the distinct pleasure of being stood up. Oooh, nothing quite feels like it. I was stood up for a date. And I hate to admit that I was actually waiting by the phone like a love-sick teenager. The phone never rang. Well, it rang, but who wants to talk to telemarketers? Ah, how down I was..especially after i got such a nice little haircut to make me look more clean cut, and after I took my clothes to the cleaners..and after I imagined how nice it would all be. In the end, nothing went as plan.

I did, however, get to confront her. What did she say? You wont believe it. She didnt say a word. Well, she did speak, but none of the words pertained to an apology or a reason as to why she didnt call. Thats the second time she didnt keep her word, and I'm not a big fan of irresponsibility. No big deal. I've already moved on. If we do happen to meet or talk, it will be because of fate or something like that.

On a lighter note, a 38 yr old woman was flirting with me. I know I posted something earlier about going after older women, but in this case, i didnt even have to do a thing. There we were, drinking white wine and listening to Jose Jose..she leans closer and whispers something about me liking the music and being so young. We proceeded to play the guessing game. She guessed I was 25, and I guessed she was 32. She had been married, and had 2 kids: a 20 yr old male, and a 7 yr old girl..oh, and a cat named Hyna. She was Puerto Rican, and admitted to have forgotten most of her spanish. She spoke with her eyes, and used her mouth to take long pulls of a cigar. Everything said had sexual undertones...she constantly broke into my personal space. Touched my arms, caressed my leg...and when the music played loud, she moved closer and spoke into my ear. She smelled like a garden...and her legs were really soft. She said I was attractive...very cute..kissable even. We both flattered each other. When the night ended, we went our separate ways. No numbers exchanged...nothing. Maybe we'll meet again....because of fate or something like that.

What the..?

Life is funny.
Little things like coincidences and ironies just make you step back and picture the possibility of it all. This Saturday, I will be attending a baby shower. It's not my first, nor my tenth and definitely not my last. What makes this one crazier then all the rest I've been to is that the mom-to-be is someone I was slightly intimate with in the past. Its a strange feeling that travels thru me as I imagine another man making love to her, as I imagine her carrying his child. Somebody out there forgot to name this emotion..but lemme tell u, its a weird feeling.

Minutes ago, I opened an email from a friend I havent heard from in a while. She informed me that my ex girlfriend will be having a baby shower sometime in the coming month. Wow. Yet another feeling someone forgot to name. No..i think I got this one on the tip of my tongue. Its called anger. What am I angry about? Ah...many things..the fact that maybe she and I would still be together now if she didnt make the biggest mistake u can make in a relationship; the fact that I havent heard from her in so long, and it was her friend [not her] who called to invite me; the fact that i'm just angry.....plain and simple.

Do I wanna go? Deep down, I'm trying to fight back so many memories,...recollections of how she did me wrong, how I just wanna be that proverbial "bigger person." Put urself in my shoes..weigh the situation..would I be wrong for not returning the call, and completely missing the shower? I dont know..i think I'm planning on having a severe cold that weekend.

Good Friday? Nope, GREAT Friday.

I'm never the type to make a big deal about myself. It draws too much attention, and even though I'm an attention-whore, I try to stay away from that [forgive me if every other line from me is a contradiction, I'm human]. You ever get a great haircut that you feel proud about [or you lost weight, or u have a cool shirt, etc], and though u dont want to flaunt it, it seems like its the only thing ppl wanna talk to you about? That's how I feel today.

Still, I wanna thank everybody in my life, near by or far away, for collectively making me feel special today.
I love you all, even if i dont tell you. Don't worry, we're not about to start getting sentimental.
Have a drink on me [at least of OJ], it's my birthday!

Father Time

Today is my father's uncle's birthday. He turns 58. If you see this man, he looks nothing like 58, instead, he looks a lot younger. His attitude isnt that of a 58 yr old man. I can't help but think of ppl that I know that are around that age and are on the other side of the "look your age' spectrum.

I remember being younger, in high school, for example. All the girls my age were dating older guys. It was the thing to do. Inside, I thought "maybe I should try dating an older girl, since all the girls my age are taken." That idea was quickly scratched when seeing some of these ladies. At 14, a 20 yr old girl looked like a woman to me. I felt i was playing out of my league. There was no way i could scoop up a 20 yr old while she def had her eyes set on the older guys. At 18, a 21 yr old STILL seemed like she was too mature for me..not to say that i was immature [and maybe I was], but it didnt seem cool. Now, at the age that I am, and looking around at the girls around me who r my age, if I would have had my balls on tight back at 19, I might have been able to stomp with the big dawgs. Not to say that girls my age are lil girls...but, hey! You ladies arent as "mature" as they advertise.

I'll be a yr older this month on Good Friday [in all my life, Good Friday has always been in April, what is up with that?]. Maybe I should start thinking about getting with a 27 or 28 yr old. Why not? It worked for Ashton. What's he got that I dont [besides model looks and a killer sense of humor?] Wait..i got those too!

Wait a minute. Bring that back..

This weekend went by so fast, I still feel like its Sunday. Everything is mashed up inside my brain. All in all, it was a great time. I managed to x out a lot of things on my "to-do list," and that always feels good. Makes u feel accomplished. Makes u breathe easier..makes u finally wanna sit down and watch all those dvds u borrowed from ur aunt that u know u soon will have to return. Did I watch any TV. Heck no.

I found myself chillaxin on Saturday in the company of good ppl. Once again, trekked it uptown in search of loving in the city streets. Makes me sound like I'm on the prowl...haha.. Nah, not me. Before the sun rose on sunday morning, I was feeling the strange intoxication of new love. By the time the sun set that Sunday evening, it vanished. It wasnt so much the feeling of love, cuz i know thats not what I felt..not even lust. It was that joyful feeling of having someone interested in you. Maybe. A little. Whatever.

I woke up this morning to see that it snowed. Snow is bad when you have plans. But my plans were quickly cancelled as soon as they were thought up. It turned out snow was actually great on a day like today. On a holiday, when working means getting paid a lot more then usual. I would like to send a shout out to my dick-head co-worker, William Gonzalez. The man woke up extra early this morning to shovel snow that wasnt going anywhere to begin with. By the time I woke up [pretty late], he had done all the work, and managed to complain to our boss that no one was there to help. Much to everybody's amazement, including mine..my boss was pretty cool about it all. Told me if I wanted to punch in, do nothing and get paid $40 an hr, I could. U gotta love that.
So today, I chilled indoors, doing nothing...getting paid. How you like them apples, Willie? Suck my dick while i sleep! I hope next time he wakes up early again and attempts to make the rest of us look bad. I can get pretty use to doing nothing and getting paid well for it.
I think I'm tired now.
Peace.

Lost in Thought

For some strange reason, its always easier to write at night. After the day is spent, words seem to flow with so much ease. Ideas come randomly, I suddenly want to create. I guess I'll write.

I have this thing about me in that I don't care what people think about me. To a certain extent, cuz I seem to really want to make great impressions. I never want the other person to get the wrong idea from me. Yet, its so hard when I'm filled with so many traits. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a poser, or someone trying hard to be accepted. I just want to be understood. Period.

In the 23 years that I've lived, I know that I'm not like a lot of people. I'm different in many ways [aren't we all?]. Sometimes, I don't know who I am. I was on the train the other day, reading an ad about some school of philosophy. It asked if you ever wondered "who am i? What am I doing here?" I laughed so hard as I read it, and then my laughter subsided as I realized that I've felt like that many times. Deep down, I know who I am, but I wonder if I'm giving off the right message. Sometimes, in my quest for laughter, I may come off as immature..and sometimes while deep in thought, I might seem a little to stiff, on the edge of morbidity. What u radiate determines who u attract. I'm always trying to fine-tune my radiations. Like putting out the cheese for the mouse.

I guess I'm blabbing at this point. Nobody reads this anyway, except for you.
hahahaha..funny how "you" can stand for anybody who's reading, if indeed they are reading. Which brings me to this question: If a Dominican from Brooklyn writes a blog and no one is there to read it, does it exist?
Peace.

Happy V-day? Nigguh, I'll kill you

Last night was a perfect example of why I am single. It was like some weird controlled experiment by God or something. You put 2 guys with diff ways of approaching a girl in a room with a beautiful girl, and u see who comes out the "victor."

Hang-out Day was due yesterday, so I trekked to Washington Heights to chill with my boy. He said something about going to a lounge, but i wasnt in the mood to drink and sit and talk. "Why don't we go to a poolhall, where we can drink and play and talk?" It seemed like a better idea. He was insistant, and so we ended up at the lounge. The game plan was to order a drink and chill for a while, then we'd split and go to the poolhall. Upon entering the locale, we encounter the prettiest creature in a 10 block radius. Omgoodness, i havent seen a girl like that in a long time. I mean, the city is filled with beautiful women, but this was different. it sounds corny to say that i thought we had a moment when i looked at her and she held my gaze as well. If i didnt know any better, her facial expression was "damn." I know mine was. I was glowing as she talked to me, but i played it cool, cuz thats my M.O...i play it cool.

Not my friend. He is very foward, very aggressive, very "strong."
After being in there for about half hour and chatting with her for a bit, she walked to where we were sitting and handed him a piece of paper. My heart sank.

"damn, u already asked her for her number?"
"yep."

That bastard doesn't play.
The entire night, I was secretly beating myself up. I couldn't player hate or anything..but damn...he's quick.

Testing...is this thing on?

I never wanted a diary. I always thought that ppl with diaries were weak-minded ppl who didnt have the balls to say what they thought. I always thought that these ppl were dying to be looked at, and as they scribed away, they secretly wanted someone to find their diaries and read everything. Since a blog is the net equivalent of a diary, I never got one. Why get one now? Cuz I'm bored at work