New year. Old brand new start.

If you’re a new reader of mine, you’ll notice I hardly ever write paragraphs.

Last year was a mix of drama, good news, and confusion. And a bunch of bad choices.

As for the bad choices I made… they were blessings in disguise.

The year is over and a new one begins. I’m still intact. Even if you’re not a fan of making New Year’s resolutions, then you still have a few goals by default. Those are your mind and body. When a new year begins, you are starting the year intact with your healthy body and sanity. Do everything you can to keep them that way until the next year starts.

With that said, I will take each month as it comes. I usually make up plans along the way.

For this year, I will study even more foreign languages. I have already started learning German and French. I have a fascination with foreign languages and always had for quite some time. I have created a specific schedule for this. Mornings are German classes. And night is for French.

This year, I plan on becoming active on YouTube and making a new video every week. Or once every month. All I need is a great-quality camera, microphone, maybe some video editing programs, and I’m set.

My channel might mostly consist of movie reviews, rants, pop culture talk, or sports talk. But I’ll try my best to make every video entertaining somehow.

No drinking. No smoking. No going out after 11PM. I’m cutting back on coffee and sodas. No more junk food.

I hate how I’ve recently become a vampire. I sleep from 4AM-9AM. That’s only 5 hours of sleep, I think. That’s not even enough to function safely around machinery, and yet, there I am. I’m reading, writing, learning foreign languages, exercising. At the end of the day, I feel like I can do it all over again and I’m still not tired. Could this all be a dangerous side effect from the lack of proper sleep? I’m not gonna risk it anymore. My ass goes to bed at 10PM.

I wish all of my friends and family a safe and happy new year.

21

Well, my friends, I have now turned 21. I’m both proud and scared of this fact. I mean, I’m proud that I’ve never been to jail. I’m living a positive lifestyle, I stay out of trouble, and my life has not gone down the drain so young. I remember going to school when I was little and talking to my friends about The Lion King and Pokemon cards. These days, all of my childhood friends are either in jail, dead, or they have kids now. Having children so young doesn’t necessarily mean that you have to abandon your hopes and dreams. But I usually see regret and a lot of struggle in raising these little fuckers.

I’m scared of getting older because I know there are some things I just can’t get away with due to my age. The main thing being is that you’re a legal adult already, so you can get in more trouble and be a target for criticism in this judgmental world. Especially when you fuck up trying to live a lifestyle most people are comfortable with. Try telling everybody you’re going to be president and see if they believe you. If you fail at life, you have a limited time to make up for it. Yes, age is just a number. And if you’re a fan of reality, sometimes it ain’t. Get on the ball.

I don’t celebrate my birthday. I don’t even celebrate Christmas. In my world, both events take place on the same day, so it’s more depressing than it is. I went to my uncle’s house to visit him for Christmas. Everybody was happy to see that I got bigger. I was unhappy to see that for the tenth year in a row, they had completely forgotten that it was my birthday.

“Where have you been these past three years?”

I have been living in California for two years and then I moved to a Mexican border town, Nuevo Laredo. I stayed there for almost a year doing research for a movie...

My uncle stops smiling.

Uncle: “Would you like a beer?”

Me: “No, thanks.”

He becomes even more straight-faced than before. Everybody else laughs. I’ve never been a beer drinker and I’ve recently stopped experimenting with smoking. Mexican men try to measure your masculinity by the amount of beers you drink. Writers try to determine how often you write by the amount of foam coffee cups you have lying around.

A few hours later, I walked into my cousin’s room. He’s watching The Book of Eli.

Blu-ray.

It looked like Mila Kunis was in the room, so I sat down next to her. The violence in the movie is cartoonish and the cinematography is superb. A couple of evil-doers try to rape Mila.

“So, how have you been?” asks my cousin.

“Good, good. I gotta use your bathroom.”

I exit the room, and once I’m out the room, I get offered coffee and donuts like 10 times. “No thanks” (10 times). I’ve already had 4 cups of Amaretto coffee and now I gotta piss. Real bad. Then I entered the bathroom. It’s squeaky-clean, just for us. I went back to my cousin’s room. Denzel Washington and Gary Oldman have joined the fun, too.

Aww shit.

The movie ends with Denzel reciting every verse in the Bible and old people writing down everything he says. Mila puts on a large jacket, sunglasses on, and walks down a road. All under the hot sun. << SPOILER ALERT

Sexy.

My dad, living in Mexico, calls me on my brother’s cell phone. He sounded tired.

“So you’re 21 now, huh? You’re getting older while I’m just getting younger. (YAWN) I’ll see if I can go there some time and we can hang out.”

Not gonna happen.

A few minutes later, I pissed like 3 more times. Then went home and continued working on my writing as usual.

My mom made a cake and it wasn’t for me. It was for Christmas. It was for Jesus. Honestly, I don’t give a shit for birthday presents, cakes, and all that. It’s just weird not being acknowledged enough on your birthday to get your own cake.

It doesn’t have to be a cake, either. Maybe a Rolex Presidential watch. That would be sweet.

Other than that, my body and mind feel great. I still can’t grow facial hair, not even a semi-mustache. My face is smooth like a newborn baby’s ass. Well, except for a few hairs sticking out my chin. I always shave those off. They’re useless.

I work out, as I mentioned in a previous post. Some time next month, I plan on adding the 6-round punching bag work out. Hitting the bag for 18 minutes is no joke. I feel like the result of working out with loud music (Jedi Mind Tricks take over the garage) is worth it. You feel very positive and happy. Boxing is one of the best ways to relax your mind and it helps me out in my writing.

21 looks like a cool age to be. Filmmakers, actors, singers, athletes are making it big and are becoming more popular at a younger age nowadays. I’m more impressed with athletes and filmmakers. Take this guy for example, Xavier Dolan. He’s 21 and has directed some flicks. As you can see in the interview, he’s a sharp guy and knows the craft of film.

Currently, the youngest person to have won the Nicholl Fellowship (biggest script competition in the world) is 21. Then you got David Rudisha and it gets even better.

I hope I can still be and feel this energetic, and be this amazing, when I become an old man. If it’s not meant to be, then I hope it’s because I died chasing tornadoes before I got the chance to age miserably.

Ant poison can get you stoned

Yes, planet Earth is big. And I think it’s fair to say that the internet has shrunk the world. I’ve always thought the world was too much of a big place to live on… Now when I turn on my laptop and connect myself online, I’m literally connected to the rest of the world. So now the world isn’t big enough.

I’m pissed at the fact that nowadays people treat the internet like some game. We have people referring to the world outside of the internet as real life. Listen folks, the internet is also real life. Believe it or not, it is. I could understand why some of you believe that it’s not. I blame the trolls, racists, online sexual predators, Viagra emails, or even those big dick pill offers in emails. I remember a friend linked me to pictures of a woman who was strangled by her boyfriend. Most of the comments were “She’s hot” or “nice pussy, what a waste.”

So yeah, I can see why some of you would log out and carry on with your personal lives to avoid these people. But where do we go when “real life” people suck just as bad?

Fuck looking around for a sanctuary to be safe from these fuckers, I just like to smoke outside my backyard. This is another recent habit I have picked up. I already have a lot of other bad habits like drinking coffee, drinking soda…. and that’s about it. And when I don’t smoke, I like to do aerobic exercises. It’s not unheard of though. To my knowledge, former boxing champs Ricardo Mayorga and James Toney are smokers. Ricardo would smoke 2 packs of cigarettes a day while training for his fights. He would fight for 12 rounds (36 minutes) and win. On the December 2003 issue of the Ring Magazine, Mayorga was featured with a cigarette in his mouth. Possibly the first athlete to ever do that on the cover of a sports magazine.

I remember reading a James Toney interview in a magazine and in regards to his liking of Cuban cigars, his philosophy was “Smoke two a day. Make the doctor go away.” I believe if smoking is moderated by the person, then their work outs can’t be hurt by a little smoke. I’ve increased my time jumping rope and still feel fresh. It can work. The habit is a temporary one and I don’t have to be concerned with slowing down.

Some writers smoke weed to help them out in their creativity, but I don’t think weed works for that. Then again, I’m no expert on the matter. I smoked weed this one time when I was living in California. My cousin Jessica is a stoner. She even made an apple bowl because she didn’t have a pipe, and then she asked me to give it a try. Not wanting to look like a bitch, I gave in. I sucked in some smoke from this hole in the apple and she told me to hold the smoke in for a few seconds. So I did. And I remember feeling the difference between marijuana smoke and cigar smoke. Weed smoke is easier to inhale, although it may cause coughing. Cigar smoke, on the other hand, is “heavier” to inhale, but that’s because it’s man-made and contains a fuckton of chemicals. Weed is natural and that’s why it’s easier to inhale.

Cigarettes and cigars can immediately relax you and make you feel a bit light-headed. A cigar brand I prefer is the “Black and Mild” brand, which is common to find in the United States. These cigars are classy. The cigars taste sweet, depending on the flavors you get. I usually buy the wine-flavored ones. Vanilla and cherry taste good too. Even non-smokers like the smell these cigars produce. My brother describes the smell as “burnt candy”.

A few minutes later after smoking from the apple, I felt really light-headed. More than I felt in comparison to the effect of cigars. This was probably munchies, but I decided to eat some rice. And then I remember that as soon as I was about to insert the spoon into my mouth, I saw that the spoon in front of my face was BIG.

It was like a movie-style ZOOM IN on the spoon. So I dropped it in shock. I looked at my fingers and my eyes zoomed in on them too.

INT. LIVING ROOM- DAY

My cousin Jessica walks in.

CLOSE-UP ON JESSICA:

                               JESSICA

                 I think I’ll name my future daughter Diamond. 

                 Do you think that sounds like a black girl’s

                 name?

                                ME

                 Huh? What?

                               JESSICA

                 Are you high?

                                ME

                     (stoned as fuck)

                 No. You got me by surprise, is all.

                               JESSICA

                 I got more of that shit. I’m fixing to smoke

                 some more, come kick it outside.

                                ME

                 Okay, wait up. I’m eating.

                               JESSICA

                 Munchies?

                               ME

                 No. I’m just hungry. FOLLOW ME! FOLLOW ME! 

                 RIGHT THIS WAY!

Jessica is startled.

CUT TO

INT. ROOM- DAY

Then I’m in bed- asleep. Stoned, actually.

                               JESSICA

                  I knew it.

Note: I wish Scrippets was working again, so I could have done that in proper screenplay format.

Weed takes a while to kick in. But when it does, it hits you hard. And it doesn’t hurt.

My brother Oscar was a stoner, too. One day, he got the clever idea to trick people into buying fake marijuana. One unlucky customer of his was notorious for having massive ant piles on his front yard. Keep that in mind.

Anyway, there were also these odd-looking flowers the guy’s front yard. If I can recall correctly, my brother yanked these flowers off the guy’s yard. Back at our house, he cut the flowers into a thousand pieces and mixed it in with pieces of wet grass. It looked like real marijuana in the little plastic bag. He sold it to the poor asshole.

Old boy even came back surprised.

“Man, dat weed got me fucked UP!” he says. My brother is now surprised by this.
“What?! It worked?!” my brother asks.
“Fuck yeah. Where can I get some more?”
“Shiiiit. If you want more, you can find it in your front yard. Free, my nigga.”
“What? Aw shit, you already know!”

It may have been the ant poison that really got him stoned.

Looking at this differently: This smoking habit is a temporary one. Maybe I’ll stop it right now. I mean, I hate the taste the smoke leaves in my mouth. I brush my teeth every time I finish smoking and then I attempt to purify myself by drinking a lot of water, which then leads to trips to the bathroom every 5 minutes. A few hours later, I’m shadow boxing for 3 rounds and jumping rope for my body, only to contaminate it with tobacco smoke.

My body rewards me with well-conditioned lungs and energy when I work out. And my brain rewards me with light-headed guesses on how many times I gotta spit in order to get the taste of tobacco out my mouth while I'm smoking.

Smoking doesn't change the fact that stupid assholes exist.

Mexican experience has ended

For 8 months I went through hell living in Mexico. I think I got sick like a total of 12 times through the whole damn time being there. Normally, it’s an event if I get sick once in a whole year. For starters, I had horrible stomach pains. But it’s not those diarrhea cases. It’s like you swallowed a razor and your body hates you for it. Then there’s the cabin fever I got from being in such a small town. It all lead to insomnia and writer’s block. And there are some things I just won’t share. Secrets I’ll never tell.

I moved to Nuevo Laredo on March 14, 2010. The city has a bad reputation and is infested with drug cartels. It was the type of environment I wanted to see for myself. And with the fact that I’m a writer working on a movie about drug cartels, it was my benefit to get a good feel of this city.

Anyway, a few days later, my dad got married to his long-time girlfriend. I was my dad’s best man, but only as a last minute choice. Not that it would bring him good or bad luck in his marriage if somebody else was the best man, but I think he went with the best guy available in picking me. Fast forward 8 months later and I’m living back in Houston. I was expecting to move back in December, though.

Before living in Mexico, I was living in California a little over 2 years. Combine that with my time in Mexico and I have not lived in Houston for nearly 3 years. My daily routine in Houston was boxing training, reading, and writing. Those are the things that brought so much life and energy to me. I was unhappy for nearly 3 years because I was not doing those things during that period out of my hometown.

Many years ago, I saw this biopic movie with Edward James Olmos, ‘Selena’. He plays Selena’s father, Abraham. And I remember this scene in which he is ranting about how it is tough being a Mexican-American. First, he says, you have to be real Mexican to be accepted in Mexico. And you have to be real American to be accepted by the white folks in the USA. Then he says how you have to speak both English and Spanish perfectly, otherwise you’re just considered garbage.

“It’s tough being a Mexican-American!!!” he shouts.

“Geez, what a bitch”, I thought.

I have always thought the character was just exaggerating and was bitching about his failures. During my time in the Mexican side, I learned that it’s actually quite true. If English is being spoken in Mexico, these are the possible outcomes: First of all, there are no exceptions. White, black, or Chicano- if you speak English, you will get some nasty looks. Also, people will assume you have money and you’ll be treated like shit- or maybe even kidnapped. I’ve been lucky enough to have this horrible treatment, even from relatives. Like some racists remarks. You’d think if everybody was the “same race” in a city, then everybody would get along. This is far from the truth, of course.

If there is one thing I learned, it’s that the only good human is a dead human.

On the other hand, if you’re around hot Mexican girls, English may come in handy. A lot of the women here actually love the American dudes. My brother and I had no problem being the life of the party on more than one occasion. Too bad all the girls I ever attracted were fat grandmothers in their 50’s and just one cute receptionist at the dentist I went to.

Crossing the border bridge is a nervous experience sometimes. Let me clear things up. I’m an American, okay? It’s very important that you get a passport and all that shit. I’ve seen people get rejected and were not allowed to cross into the USA for giving some suspicious answer on their reasons for going to Texas. And I would always get suspicious looks from one border patrol guy in particular. I hate that bastard. But he’s just doing his job in being an asshole. I wish I could be a border patrol guy, too. You get paid to be an asshole to innocent people, pretty much how I am most of the time. And I bet you don’t gotta go to school and study that.

“Excuse me sir, can you step out of the line so we may search you?”

FUCK YOU.

If I get cavity searched, did I just lose my virginity?

I dress up in real nice clothes. I’m not surprised to know that border patrol and citizens of Nuevo Laredo assume that I’m a powerful drug dealer. Sometimes it got to the point that border patrol had to scan the car with some type of huge X-ray machine to see if we had drugs inside.

I’ve counted a total of 89 days in which I didn’t go out into the streets of Nuevo Laredo from March 14 through November 15. In my old life here in Houston, it would have been less than 89 days in a whole year in which I would have gone out. I didn’t really meet all kinds of people. Everybody was the Mexican version of everybody I knew in the States. There was even a Mexican version of a store located in my Houston neighborhood near my Mexican home. And of course, there was a Mexican version of the American cashier working in the store.

One time, my dad was smoking a cigarette and he didn’t want to finish the one half of it. So he threw it away and a couple of homeless guys immediately picked it up and shared it.

Last June, my brothers were visiting me from Houston. We went out to eat some tacos at this little place and a police truck stopped by. Four police officers stepped out with their machine guns and ordered some tacos. My brother was nervous since cartels tend to start gunfights with armed cops, especially when you least expect. A movie-like experience: People stopped eating to taunt and insult the cops.

Boom.

It’s only been like 4 days since I left Mexico. I’ve been working out by shadow boxing for like four rounds and jumping rope for 10 minutes, all while listening to music at a very loud volume. I’ll slowly increase the jump rope time to 30 minutes one day. But for now, the work outs will be light, unless I want a heart attack. It’s great to be back home. I feel recharged. I plan on writing even more, especially now that I feel more energetic and happier.

In the days to come, I even plan on going out more. Black Swan comes out December 3. So I guess I’ll go to the movies to see that. The movie looks pretty good. If you’ve seen the trailer, there’s a part in which the faces -in numerous paintings- begin to frown. And I am reminded of the bizarre dreams I had during my stay in Mexico. My dreams are pretty vivid sometimes and very Salvador Dali-esque.

Smeared shit on your face. Pay attention.

But seeing the frowning faces in the Black Swan trailer reminded me of a dream I had when I was little. The dream will probably not sound impressive in text form. But I remember that in the dream, I was in a state of sleep paralysis and there was a picture of Jesus Christ on the wall. Before seeing the picture, I was trying really hard to move my eyes and head. Eventually, I was able to turn my head and I saw the Jesus picture on the wall. It was this picture of Jesus that was in the dream, which is a common one of JC.

Then the Jesus in the picture opened his mouth and began screaming at me. I tried waking up and he (or He) began making fun of me (in Spanish) for it. It’s one of those dreams from your childhood that you never forget.

"You'll never be king of the world!!"- Jesus Christ Painting to me.

I’m gonna leave the blog at this and I’m leaving to puff on a cigar. Oh, and trust me, I don’t really smoke. Smoking sucks. It’s just something I do once in a great while.