I forgot I wrote that

In searching through some old stuff I came upon assignment I had written in high school. Figure I might as well post some of them. We had read a short story told in the perspective of a barber. A man whose job is killing sits in his chair. He debates killing the man and ultimately cannot do it. We were to write the story from the customer's perspective and then write a diary entry supposedly written by the barber after said encounter. Enjoy:

I walked into the barbershop. The man stood where he was, recognizing my face instantly. That was good, because I knew his too; the face of a revolutionary. This was the man who if given the chance would kill me. But one glance into his eyes and I knew he wouldn't be able to do it. I sat in the chair and asked for a shave. As he sharpened his blade I couldn't help but notice how the light played on the steel. How would that cold steel feel piercing my naked skin? I put those thoughts out of my head. I knew what I was here to do. As he began, I started relating my plans for the hanging of the revolutionaries that very afternoon. I noticed his hands began to tremble. Whether due to anxiety or fear I'll never know. He tried steadying his hand, and managed to. However, not before the blade nipped at my neck. A warm trickle of blood ran down my neck. Would seeing my blood prompt him to want to see all of it upon the floor? No, he wouldn't. I stood by my perception of the man. He tediously continued his work. At times I felt him stop, and wondered what he was pondering. Could it be possible that he was contemplating my death? However, before i could finish that thought, he was done. I looked myself over in the mirror. As I got up to pay him I noticed my knees were a little weak. Although I knew that man wasn't capable of murder, there was a second where the shadow of doubt had crept into my thoughts. I payed him his money and as I walked out I said "I knew you couldn't do it. Killing isn't a party. Believe me, I know."

Dear Diary,
How could he have known? There is no logical way. When he spoke those words, I remained frozen in my spot. I could do nothing but stare at his back as it grew smaller and smaller into the distance. I quickly threw his money on the floor. I felt so dirty. I had contemplated killing a man who took no pleasure in his job, yet had to do it. I couldn't handle the thought, so I quickly closed up my shop and went home. As I reached my door I felt the cold eyes of the others upon me. I knew they knew. I turned and was faced with a mob. They leered at me. One lady cried hysterically, "He killed my son, and you let him live. You're a coward." As she said this, she spat in my face. I related the story to them, pleading for them to understand the situation I had to endure. There were those who realized the severity of Torres' words. They said nothing, for fear of the others; but the look in their eyes said it all. However, the majority of them had no ears for my side. They could not see past the years of bloodshed. So here I sit, alone. Perhaps over time they will understand. I had no choice but to let him go. Oh God, if I would have killed him, I would be perceived as a hero. "You did it for the cause," they would all say. But, in turn the remorse would have killed me. He is not a bad man and he has done me no personal harm. I did the right thing, didn't I?

I hate the holidays

I am not a scrooge (you know that's what you were thinking). It's not like I've always hated the holidays. For some reason this year, I honestly just don't give a crap. Usually holidays were spent with my siblings and my parents. But my parents are in D.R. and not to be gushy but it's honestly not the same. Hearing my mom wish me a merry xmas over the phone does not compare to having her hug me when she says it.

My sister and brother came over, since we're pretty much the only family we can stand to be around. We had lunch and exchanged presents. (My sister got me "Why We Suck" by Dr. Denis Leary. If you're not easily offended I'd suggest picking it up. Interesting stuff, especially the section on how you (the parent) are the only one who like your children. The rest of us think they suck). Then we had to make the rounds of phone calls to the family in D.R.-- parents, aunts, cousins. I had to tell my parents I am postponing going to see them until May. My mom understood, my dad not so much. With this stupid holiday and then rent, I'm pretty much out of money until about February. (Still waiting on my raise from work. Gotta love CUNY. By the time I get my raise it'll be time for my next one).

That concludes my very uneventful holiday season. I am to go watch "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" tomorrow....well *looks at watch* today. It's almost three hours long. Hope it doesn't suck. If it does, who really cares. I get to ogle Brad Pitt. Sign me up!

You turn your back for ONE second....

I am a huge CSI fan, so I've seen more than one fake case of a missing child where the mother always says "I just turned my back for one minute and he/she was gone." Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I'd be saying almost the exact same thing about an amphibian.

A little background: I have two turtles. Red-ear sliders to be exact. Those are the tiny turtles you see being sold on the street. Believe me, they do not stay that small. Anyway, they reside in a pretty big tank. I try and clean it as often as I can (or when people look through the grime and say "where the hell are your turtles?"). Even with help it's about an hour job.

This evening, I was cleaning out the tank alone so it was taking longer than usual. I take advantage of cleaning the tank on a feeding day, so as to distract the little monsters from what I'm doing. Needless, to say they were getting restless as I paced back and forth with buckets of water. Now, I put the smaller of the two in a deeper bucket because she's a little "special." I know I accidentally dropped one of them when they were young. It was probably her. I noticed the larger one peeking her head over the top of the small tub I feed them in. I didn't think twice about it because they always try to pull themselves out and have never succeeded before. The operative word being: before.

I pour the bucketful of clean water I drudged from the bathroom into their tank and as I'm going back one more time I turn toward the tub and see.....nothing. Right beside the tub are two little trails of water. I completely panicked. A) Because I had no idea where she was and the thought of her being loose in the apartment is frankly frightening and B) I was afraid she might pop out from some hidden corner and scare the living crap out of me. As I'm peering underneath my bed, frantically searching for any signs of movement I hear scratching coming from the other side of the bed. I run over and there she is making her way toward my bookcase. She spots me and realizing the jig is up makes a break for it. I'm serious. I know turtles are supposed to be slow but those little turtle legs can fly when determination kicks in. I manage to grab her, as she flails in protest, and place her back in her tank....hissing at me all the while.

I've been the sole care giver of those turtles for over two years. I must admit this was one of the most hilarious and frightening experiences I've ever had with them. I hope that little taste of freedom doesn't give them any ideas. I would not like to see "The Great Escape: Turtle Edition." Though I'm sure I can just sell the rights to Fox.

The Beauty of Balance

As usually happens with the opening of a new movie i am bombarded by a barrage of commercials and advertisement for Jim Carrey's movie "YesMan." For those who don't know the premise, in short Carrey must respond to all things with a yes because for his whole life he's being saying no. The lesson there being that because he now says yes and takes chances his life is better for it. In theory. This is based on the premise that people who say no to everything end up missing out.

This is true to a certain extent. Because the truth is the reverse is equally as bad. Or, some may argue, it's worse. Saying yes to everything may open up doors but it could lead you to be a push over. I know someone who goes completely out of their way to essentially please everyone but themselves. Whether it's from an authority figure or Joe Blow off the street, if a request is made this person would all but trip over themselves to make it happen. It's a little sad to see someone run themselves ragged trying to do things for people whom they think will like or respect them if their request is fulfilled. When the honest truth (visible to everyone but this person) is that all the people who spend time making requests don't appreciate those fulfilling them. Instead of compliments there are complaints of things not being done right or fast enough. Everything with them is take, take, take. Bending over for them might get you a date with a chiropractor but won't buy you many friends.

The moral of the story, kids, is balance. One needs to be able to embrace new experiences but also know when to put on the brakes. Balance has been missing from my life for a while now. I've been a no person for the majority of my teenage/adult life. All that has led me to so far is missing out on fun times and friends that were never met. I hope to remedy that sooner than later. Who knows what waits out there for me. Whatever it is, I hope to embrace it.

Anything you can do I can do better....

So, it would appear that my frustrations have come a bit early. The Mets announced on Tuesday that they had signed Francisco Rodriguez, better known to the baseball world as K-Rod, for three years. Fantastic! Let Mets nation rejoice and the absurd expectations begin. Do not get me wrong, I love the fact that we have a closer and a good one at that. My problem is that the evil empire that is the Yankee organization announced it had reached an agreement to bring C.C. Sabathia to "the house that greed built." I have a theory that the Yankees just wait until the Mets break out big news to then one up them. It's like sibling rivalry...well if your sibling was a dick! Now I have to listen to all the band wagon jumpers proclaim world series victory before the ink even dries on the contract. To all those "fans" (and I use the term loosely), let me remind you of two things: 1) baseball is not played on paper. No one knows this better than last season's Detroit Tigers and 2) as Met fans clearly learned last season, one pitcher does not make a winning team

Inaugural Post

*Sigh* I have given in to the fad of blogging. I guess this would be more for me than anyone else, though those interested to read can go right ahead and do so. The truth is ever since I can remember, all I've ever wanted to do was write. There was not a moment where I did not imagine that as my future. But as is the case in a lot of instances.....somewhere along the line I lost that piece of myself. I haven't written anything in years--since the last essay for my senior seminar class (the use of rings in Shakespearean plays). So, in essence I'm hoping this serves as the match to light that fire that used to burn so brightly in me. A way to combat a tremendous case of writer's block if you will. Or it may just turn into a way to let out my frustrations come the baseball season, because there is no doubt the Mets will find some way to piss me off. We'll see.....