Sexuality pattern altered, is a nursing diagnosis. SCORE!!!

Seed

This smile. Not any common one, but your own. Passed down through Zen. Imprinted on another creature.

See the tenacity on ridges of his teeth, help it grow to conquer the world just like you did once. See the culture on the ends of his lips, you can teach him to bend and make the world fall in love with him just like it did once with you. See the zeal on his cheeks that can alter future lives that he touches, teach him how to use this carefully. See the way his eyes burn blue with raw passion, a history of your now faint crimson eyes.

You have the spark, your words and actions create a new generation. You don't need a surrogate. You don't even need ovaries and testicles. Two of each is just fine.

Living through

Cold gusts of wind enter the bedroom window as he looked at the clock. It's 10am on a Sunday morning and his husband is still asleep. He nibbles on his ear and the husband smiles. The husband incoherently mumbles a list of things they have to do. He says, "fuck it". They get dressed in warm puffy jackets and go to the pier instead. It's foggy, hazy and cozy. They sip clam chowder on a bread bowl by the sea. Just the two of them on a bench they've occupied since 5 years ago.

The sea crashes and mixes within the little crystals of sand. He kisses him and tells him that he loves him. He fought so hard to get to where they are now. To both of them, it was worth the wait.

5 Years Out

5 Years Out

There are certain moments in my life where everything comes together in extreme clarity. All of the decisions and attitudes I’ve developed or absorbed into my personality brought me here today. I’ve been out of the closet for 5 years to this month, but at the time instead of assimilating in the culture I shied away from it. I made really good friends with a cocky soccer player, and him and his boyfriend have illuminated my idealistic view of what I think my life should be like in the future. Finally, my nursing professor taught a lecture on infertile women and their identities. And that is what I’ve made myself up to this day…an infertile woman (will be explained, promise).

Life was hard for the first two years upon coming out. I can go on to specifics but you can easily read my past entry. Tiger (alias), my locker was next to yours in P.E. in middle school. You had that swagger, and had perfect illuminating skin. Your biceps and defined abs always gleamed in sweat and the light. You looked like an anime character straight out of manga, all the girls thought you were fucking hot. I did too. Whenever I sold chips or candy for my clubs, I always sold to you first and saved your dollars and replaced them from bills from my allowance. You were my first eye candy and every guy that came after you was immediately compared to the incredibly high standards you set. My experience with other guys pretty much just wanted sex, but at the time I wasn’t ready. I then vowed that I’d be the “cleanest” gay guy. I enveloped myself with attitudes like purity ring bullshit and immediately discarded guys that just wanted sex before getting to know their personalities and what they wanted with their lives. I didn’t know that relationships could be formed through physical first. Due to my Catholic upbringing, I was a sucker to think that emotional investment must happen first.

I was an only child and I thought my parents would love me unconditionally. They loved me dearly. I was their most prized possession, their golden child. When I was small around 12 years old I had excellent grades (not that I don’t now, but at the time I excelled for them, never for myself). I was also an altar server and wanted to be a priest. We had emigrated from the Philippines only 3 years ago, but everyone was warm, happy, and cozy in our little room that me, my mom, and my dad slept in. We would always have family over and even though we were crammed into a small living room, there was always good food and someone cracking jokes. And I grew up. I discovered I liked guys. To this day I don’t understand the genetics versus culture debate. No one taught me how to like guys, I wasn’t inducted in some cult or was “recruited”. I was an artist in my early childhood, I appreciated male beauty. If anything was taught to me, it was that I wasn’t supposed to…

So as a trusting uneducated little fool that I was, I told them. Life was a complete turnaround. My mother called in a priest. My father threw away half of my stuff that “made” me gay like my bonsai tree, stuffed teddy bears, and glow in the dark stars. To this day whenever I see either of the three, my insides burn a little. He threatened that I would go to hell and was genuinely concerned for my soul, assuming that he hadn’t destroyed it that day. I developed a curse mentality because god hated fags. Anything I did immediately made me self conscious about myself. If I wasn’t to change I would also be sent back. There was a whole tirade of my family relocating here just so I could have a better future and here I was fucking it all up. For them it was an American dream and culture gone wrong. When I look back at it now, if I was sent back I would’ve probably still have found another Tiger. When I’m thirty five I’d probably cheat on my wife for another man and get divorced. Everytime she would want sex I’d make up reasons not to. I would probably be thinking of someone else if it did happen. Sexuality is socially constructed. I would’ve followed the typical straight regimen, but would hate my life every single day. I would love my kids, but the uterus they were born out of, I probably would not.

How perfect was this last summer? Just went to work, and worked out. I met a guy named Thorin who worked at another commons in UCI. At first I thought he was a douche. He had the popped collar, aviators, typical egotistical asshole. I discovered later that it was just a façade developed to dispel people that didn’t care to know who he really was in the first place. I’m always respectfully in people’s business so I delved deeper. He had a rainbow bracelet and I asked him if he was an ally. Apparently, he was family (code used by gays to refer to other gays secretly). We got to talking and started hanging out. We swapped ideas about the community (code meaning the wellbeing or state of the gay community; sometimes used by me to police its members as being “bad for the community”). He was always talking about his boyfriend and I was adept in listening. It was so refreshing to see a gay couple not bashing each other for their weaknesses, but constantly developing each other. Whenever he talked about him, his eyes would light up and his voice broke constantly. His boyfriend was the air he breathed, the ground he walked on, and the beauty that he saw in the world. Hearing his unbridled admiration about another guy was intoxicating. I had the pleasure of hanging out with this mysterious creature a couple of times and seeing them together is something you would have to see for yourself.

As I got to know more about them, I couldn’t help it take bits and pieces of what they had and assemble what I wanted into my paradigm:

Intense friendship developed into intense passion and commitment.

The willingness to literally annihilate the current environments they were in just to be able to be with each other, because that’s all what they needed in the first place.

Being able to spend exorbitant amounts of time with each other without getting bored. (I definitely need work on this)

Having someone to admire, nurture, and love with reciprocity.

Finally, today my professor told us about the study she did in her PhD study. With heavy verbiage, it was called “The Work of Taking on and Managing an Identity of Self as Infertile”. The study involved women who couldn’t have children for genetic reasons. They go through such a change in character just because they labeled themselves as infertile. They would start off simply by admiring other kid’s babies to taking on an identity as infertile. They became so consumed with infertility. One woman that my professor interviewed who worked out, had a banging body said that none of this matters because she couldn’t have what she really wanted. This then hit me. I was similar to this woman. I’ve climbed leadership for a long time and I’ve achieved so much for my age, but none of it matters because I didn’t have someone to share it with. Everywhere I’d go I’d see couples holding hands, wishing I had my other half. I labeled myself as “single” whereas before it was great and didn’t really bother me. It became such a burden at parties that I had to manage the identity of being gay and single. It’s extremely hard to find a monogamous down to earth, fun, and good looking guy. I’ve overcome societal aversions for gays. I’ve built up a vast network of friends, developed a positive mindset on how to handle situations that directly stereotypically affected gays, but at the same time there really isn’t a wide pool to choose from. It’s like graduating with a sociology degree only to find yourself without a job. It’s like pitching a tent only to have your vacation cancelled.

The help she suggested for these women was that they must reenter the real world. I’ve introspectively looked at my mistakes. I know what I’ve done wrong all these years. I want to make that change. Hey real world, I did knock, but this time I’m going to ring the doorbell instead.

Distance

My latest project has been with an adorably charming couple who were high school sweethearts. When I first tackled this story, I wanted to make it light, funny, and interesting so that other couples could see that gay relationships can be so, but the deeper I delved into their lives I felt stupid. I absolutely missed the amount of emotional investment, commitment, and love that these two had for each other. So much so that they’re willing to risk the direction of their lives just so they can accommodate each other.

It was a pleasure writing about them and everyone can appreciate their attitude towards life. When we all ate dinner and watched the sunset together, I couldn’t help be enveloped by their love and affection towards each other. Even though I noticed they turned many heads upon each little peck, hands around each other’s waists or when they still, after many years, get lost in each other’s eyes, their isolated apathetic attitude helped dispel these signs of automated safeguards of societal aversion. Not that they were affected by it anyway. By choosing or not choosing to live the way they want they’re blasting concrete walls for others to tread and follow. At the end of the day, they just want to be together and love each other.

Distance

A true story by John Alejandro

Dedicated to Frin and Naso.

“This is fun” Naso said.

“Yeah…it is isn’t it?” I concluded after a hot round of sex. “Guess we’re not straight…”

“What should we do?”

“Do you want to go out?” I asked sheepishly.

“Sure.”

Beginnings

We started off sort of rough, but definitely fun. It was quite a rocky beginning and there were many variables in play that hindered certain things in the beginning. Naso’s gay friend also came out and a small situation manifested itself. Timing was horrible and I went out of the country right after something developed between us. I racked up hundreds of dollars worth of overseas phone bills just to be able to talk to him, to hear his voice. When I returned, Naso was the one to leave for another continent. Oceans apart, one question drilled itself into my mind. Would these trips change our “friendship”? Separation and distance played such sweet tricks. Fate ripened my want, my love, my need for him. He was and is my best friend.

Another question developed long term. What if we were just going through a phase? What if we didn’t really want this for our lives? We do want families in the future. During the first few months we’d always stop and take a look back and deliberate whether we should keep doing this, whether this really is the route we want to take. We’d try and stop seeing each other for a while, but we’re back to it. After a month of testing the waters, clearing up any insecurities that might have developed, we decided to settle down. There was no excuse in dissolving a valued relationship for petty reasons. Why not have experiences that you enjoy while they last? We decided to live for ourselves and not for anyone else. We took those crossed stars and made them parallel.

Him and I

Naso’s really easygoing and zenlike. Drama is the last thing he wants and we value the same things. I don’t mean that you can trample all over him, but in a way he has a tacit confidence. A black widow in the corner of the room. Mysterious, silent, but deadly. He’s a genius. One time he was just barely learning how to play the guitar and I asked him to play a song. He plays a ten minute piece perfectly attuned to which he concludes “well I’m not that good yet”. He’s also the opposite of that sometimes too. One day, he fell off from his bike, scraped his knee which I thought was extremely hot, and lost his wallet. When he got home, we sat in bed for five hours and just talked. I like how we can spend exorbitant amounts of time with each other and never get bored. Finally, he’s just the most attractive guy I’ve ever met. I honestly believe that. With every passing year he’s become more and more attractive.

Similarly, I like simple things. I don’t consider myself a complex guy. I just like to sit around and chat. Whatever’s going on I’m down for. I’m spontaneous, but eat simple food. I have a weird sense of humor, but then again I am a physics major. I love trance music and listen to it 24/7. Finally, I just don’t really give a damn about what other people think. I take everything with a grain of salt, especially ever since I’ve moved to America. Everyone mocked my accent, and well it sucked to be the minority in the majority. Other people probably see me as arrogant, but then again I don’t really care for them. Is this self feeding what people think of me? They probably find me irritating, but again I honestly don’t give a damn.

If I never met him, I’d probably be more boisterous. Likewise, I’ve probably made him more extroverted. When we go clubbing he’s the life of the party. He loves gospel culture and is keen on enjoying yourself, having a good time, and celebrating life.

High School

Throughout high school, we became best friends. He was an excellent choir singer and I did comedy sports. We did a plethora of things together like ASB events, school plays, and even though we were in different social circles, we managed to create an environment for our friendship. He was of course the coolest guy on campus with the most friends. I hung out with a mainly older group.

One night, after a long day of rehearsals for a musical, we ended up falling asleep together. Naso usually naps during the day and today was so busy he didn’t get a chance to. We were recording a television show for a project and there was still an hour left so we decided to take one. Within five minutes, after taking either sides of the bed, the atmosphere changed.

“Frin, I’m really cold”

“I’ll help” I said as I positioned myself on top of him.

“Fuck it” Naso exclaimed.

Hormones took over and sliced the tension. Naso kissed me. I kissed him back. We turned off the lights, made out, and got naked pretty fast. The sex was great.

But the next day it wasn’t awkward. We chatted online and he thanked me for the night before. I said thanks. We fooled around and it felt good so we kept seeing each other.

Later on when I asked him why he kissed me he said “You were hard...”

It was all in good fun, but that point was never serious. And the days after those nights never interfered with our personas, which helped a lot considering we knew that this was sort of against expectations. We had each other. It was a brave new world with only us in it.

College

We both applied to the same schools but at the time that we made our final decisions, we’d have been only dating for a week. We didn’t know that this would ultimately impact and shape the rest of our college lives in such a profound way..

Naso eventually went to a university 441 miles away from mine. It was hard. There were trust issues and insecurities that were worked out but eventually we got over it. The hard part was staying sane while he was away.

I didn’t get too involved with athletics because I wanted to be able to spend time with him. I enjoyed working two jobs because it would make the time pass by that much faster until I can see him again. Weeks rolled by and I didn’t mind. Too much of a “my” world wasn’t what I wanted because it would just be so much harder to fit him into my life. I didn’t want him to be another piece to the puzzle. My life encompassed an “us”. Meeting him has changed the course of my life in a completely different direction.

We put our lives on hold while working on our degrees which would eventually lead us to be together, and that’s all we wanted was to be in each other’s presence. Internet chat was a must every night and sometimes we would also start online shows together and talk about them as if there was an electric bridge that linked our lives even for a short hour.

At the same time Naso didn’t have a lot of financial limitations nor did I want him sulking like I did. I wanted him to enjoy life and well, wherever he’d go he’d mail me a little something like a postcard and I get to see all the places he went to.

One day when we were chatting he said something that pierced quite deeply. He said, “Frin…I think that if this…what we had didn’t work out, I don’t think I’ll be able to forget about you. I think twenty years down the line… if I met someone else …I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you.”

Thinking back, I would do it all over for him. I would go through all the bouts of longing just to be with him for a brief few days and go back into slowly building a life that we could enjoy together.

Moving in

In a short amount of time, I’m happy to say that Naso is transferring to my university. We’ve been waiting for this for a long time and I’m appreciative that he’s making such a big move just so we can be together. I don’t think he realizes how much I am thankful for this. Our college lives, our life starts this year. I’d be lying if I said I can’t wait, because that’s what I’ve been doing all up to this point.

He’s the perfect guy. I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else. I’m so lucky to have met him so early in my life and I will do everything in my power to make this work.

It’s only a matter of time until nirvana slaps me in the face

Springtime romance that lasted years

Drive to a nearby mountain, take him

Enjoy the scenery and of course do much more

Brush his hair, tell him he’s gorgeous

In bed, tell him he’s hot

Because he is and deserves to know it

It’s infallible that my want, love, and need

Grows for him exponentially

Marry your best friend, that’s what I intend to do…

Knight in Shining Armor

Met someone yesterday. He saved my life.

Haunting

Two birds were perched in different positions inside a carport.

One was on top of the parked truck brooding majestically over the roaches waiting hungrily for a delicious cricket to eat.

The other, who was economically beautiful in his own right had his fill of cockroaches beneath the car, but failed the vision of the one above.

One day, both birds wanted the other's lifestyle in the hierarchy. Top bird was so hungry he was willing to risk his domain to grab a piece of the action. Bottom bird was full in his own right and wanted a taste of the occasional sweet life.

So they switched and for a while it was good. Ex-top bird was finally full and ex-bottom bird finally had a taste of haute cuisine. The different vantage points were a welcome change.

When the owner of the car, however, drunk in his stupor waited for no one and hastily backed up the car. The birds in their cloud 9 and splendor failed to spot him in time. Bottom bird who did not run to the side, was run over his overweight guts spewing out of his mouth. Top bird who did not fly was whiplashed against the wall and snapped his neck.

Random thoughts

The keyboard is mightier than the pen.

What if spiders could fly? That'd be fucking terrifying. Not only do you have to worry about running into a web and it stinging your face, but now you have to guard yourself when walking around. A black widow might just come fly down your neck like a vampire bat armed with poison.

Safeguard the influence you have over people. Everyone is interconnected.

SMLI Reflections 1

Staffing SMLI was one of the most worthwhile experiences I’ve had in a while. Developing intentional programs to enrich the tolerance, cultural sensitivity, and leadership of select incoming freshmen in this exclusive institute made me realize that I’d be a great role model to the kids that I adopt. There were guests that spoke about social change, responsibility, passion, and free speech. There were workshops that helped figure out leadership styles, conflict resolution, and stereotypes. Finally there was a group case study that challenged the SMLI participants’ critical thinking skills to navigate the UCI power map and provide a solution to a modern university problem.

One of the workshops included a poster presentation on a certain word regarding social change. My group’s word was equality. They wrote what equality sounded like, looked like, and felt like. I was asked what equality felt like to me because they wanted an example. I responded that I didn’t know what it felt like because my equality as a homosexual is determined by people’s votes and currently even though 8 was repealed, marriages are still on hold until the counterpart is given a chance to reappeal. The group then decided that they knew what it looked like, or at least looked like. One of the symbols they drew was of a standard male stick figure holding hands with another male stick figure. This was then juxtaposed next to a male stick figure holding hands with a female figure and in between the two couples was an equal sign. It reminded me of my recent project a gay couple who were so passionately in love with each other and would like to get married. After the artist was finished drawing, she turned to which made everyone else in the group turn towards me, all awaiting and eager to see my reaction. No words left my mouth as I was speechless. Emotions that I couldn’t pinpoint at that time ran through me like a horse that had been caged its entire life.

Seeing the future leaders of the university having these ideas about equality was so emotionally refreshing that it triggered something. This has been what I’ve been doing my whole life. Achieving leadership positions everywhere I go so that I could change it or at least monitor it to be sensitive against intolerance. I nodded to them, left the room, and let the horse roam free in a puddle of tears.

Fuel

I've never deliberated about anything in my life as hard as this. I haven't slept for days, running on negative energy. But it feels so good. To be needed, to be wanted, to be admired.

Deliberation.

I overestimate everything. I try not to analyze every fucking thing, but I do...My fatal flaw. But to jump for a leap of faith knowing that there are spikes underneath, knowing the slim chance my hands will grasp the ledge, knowing that its wrong to even grab the ledge in the first place. Knowing that the pot of gold on the other side is bloody pirates booty. Morally questionable, manic karma inducer, but all's fair right?

Deliberate once more

Everytime I will myself not to go for gold, something fucking happens that makes me want to go for it again. In reality the gold is tainted. It is blood diamond if achieved. Nevertheless its still diamond. No matter the delivery or justice in retribution, the product is the same. Can I or even worse since it takes more planning, WILL I?

Meditation. Ask for it within. Empty...the insides say do whatever you want.

Last Day

8/10/10 My last day of work at Pippin Commons

My last days at all of my jobs (5) have been uneventful. To expect any sort of excitement or severance package like maybe a Range Rover for “your many years of unrivaled service” is futile. The best I got was a plate of chili cheese fries from my school district boss, which I had to eat alone because summer hours for everyone else was reduced. My last day for tutoring college algebra was not celebrated. The finale to my medical assisting gig led to hugs and kisses from my coworkers. And finally, my service to Pippin ended with cushy summer hours of sitting on a chair for 8 hours a day three times a week, watching my life pass me by, and visible growth of facial hair to my hourly trips to the bathroom after drinking too much coffee.

Don’t get me wrong I never expected anything in return. I’m by nature a stress fanatic and workaholic (which I’ll be soon part of a psych study in UCI where they see how stress affects students; obviously they turn out like me, overworked, underloved, but infinite cash flow ;D). It was recently that I had another nervous breakdown, however a really good friend helped me through it.

“But do you like it?” he asked after dessert and a couple of beers.

“I don’t know…I’ve done everything right…sometimes I wish I could be stupid. Just one time I hope I enjoyed a failure. One time maybe I’d like a big red cross on my forehead." I responded with tears still rolling down my cheek carried over from retelling my coming out experience.

“But do you enjoy it?” he asked once more.

“I’ve been trained to enjoy it. I’ve been given a gold star for every goddamn thing. I don’t know what I want anymore. I wish I wished what you want” I gulped pointing to his apathetic view about life.

“You’re putting in a lot of effort…just wait to reap the benefits. Hang in there. I could’ve been a great athlete. I just chose not to pursue it. That’s my decision. I know one day you’ll be a head nurse or higher and you’ll be with a great guy.”

I thanked him and laughed as I ended the lives of slow running tears.

“I wish you could write your stories as well. Your life is so inspiring and moving I feel like people out there are missing out when you don’t share it.”

So my last hoorah at being awesome for these two years was to consult for a manager at Brandywine about the menu planning and costing program that UCI Dining and Hospitality uses. Thanks for the leadership and technical experience Pippin Commons. I’ll carry it far.

Want

You know when you want something really bad, but you can't have it? Like when a fat child has had more than his fair share of mashed potatoes, but wants just one more spoonful. Or like when a conservative extremist's friends all pass left without a circle to share his previously unquestioned ideas and all he wants is the world to adopt his fantastical philosophies.

People deal with it differently. I have many friends that shop away their feelings, I know one particularly that eats them down to a dark abyss, but I whimper. I rage contractions on my abs, lift my lower lip above my upper lip and like a lone wolf, I let short bursts of sadness dissolved in air. I fan them toward the bathroom exhaust hoping that it will carry these desires away.

Platinum

A doctor came in today. He bought $20 worth of string and American cheese. I guess he liked cheese.

As I was already impressed by his labcoat and green scrubs (which means surgeon I think), he then upped his game. Upon payment he took out a metallic looking American Express credit card. It was black heavy metal. It was beautiful. It gave me an orgasm.

“Oh my god you can kill someone with this!” I yelped in delight

“Platinum... That’s how I roll baby.” he said in southwestern douche.

I held the card in my hand and it felt like a shuriken that could buy its way into my heart. It was so sleek and elegant. In all its black platinum glory, however, Pippin’s machine insulted the obsidian god. This hillbilly piece of equipment only takes Visa and Mastercard. He was in a hurry and apparently a patient was waiting. I waited for the director to void the sale, but instead he took out two inches thick worth of cash and handed me a fifty. It was as if the enlarged lab jacket’s sole purpose was to carry his iron bar of a credit card and his drug-like cash.

“You need to get this credit card machine fixed man. The chances of this baby getting rejected is slim to none.” the surgeon said to the director

I could see the cool azure fire burning in my boss’s eyes. He doesn’t get angry. Like me, I believe he plots complex multimedium revenge instead of a confrontation.

“I’m sorry I believe its your card’s company, and not your credit” he said politely to the surgeon before he left.

“Wow that guy was a jerk” he uttered calmly to me.

“Well he’s a doctor…” I pronounced in defense to my future field (hoping that someday if I develop a god complex, someone will understand that I’m just in a lot of pressure)

I did some research right when I got home. Platinum credit card: $450 a year just to be able to say you own one, no spending limit (none, nada, you can buy a house and lot with it), and you can take off on a jet, limo, or cruise in record time all you have to do is call a number.

The guy was a jerk, but how can you blame him? He needs to carry this dumbbell in his wallet everyday.

Woring Class

(Hooray for sixth grade essay rubrics! =D)

This civilization can’t exist without the working class. There’s a pyramid in place where there’s obviously one or a few that make all of the decisions. How then does a broken public high school system that obviously systematically cranks out mindless drones of mass produced students then differentiate so widely? How do we get a forty year old Del Taco employee versus an M.D. who went through the same 14 years of school? Environment plays a monumental role in developing one’s cognitive world view of one’s self and music plays a monumental role in environment.

What kind of music do we listen to and how does that affect us? Music is a form of identity and it can provide entrance to cliques where birds of a feather flock together. Lyrics like “teach my how to dougie” in a painful over repetition could possibly not only limit the people that you hang out with, but maybe create a mental block from letting further information get in. "California girls" bring horny perverts from other countries to spend their money in tourism in California. News flash, one fifth of California is obese! The next generation will be 40% obese... Words such as “Get out my way bitch” in an astounding number of duplications within a three minute sequence would definitely have an effect on you when you’re walking behind a disabled grandmother in Albertsons. This disrespect would then lead to a degradation of morals and values that a respected community would insist upon its members. Those who don’t live up to expectations in decency? We ostracize them and hopefully downward spiral into the black abyss of the lower class. Of course not all of the individuals that make up the bottom percentile of the population lack morals. These are exactly the people that we see in the media who “deserve” to win a million dollars, or deserve that scholarship or have their life turned around by a gracious benefactor. Do you still see the message or have I completely lost you? Passive transport of the degenerates of society, but in the case that individuals end up there that don’t belong there, the media propagandizes that we should actively transport them out.

First amendment bullshit, this type of music increases our appetite for instant gratification like sex, money, and drugs instead of creating an atmosphere where we could develop our intellect. Some people welcomed this with open arms and made it a part of their day. But wait, not everyone has to develop their intellect do they? We need the working class. Hitler and Stalin couldn’t have done it better than Ludacris and Fiddy.

Eight and a half hours of observation

Intro

Pippin is open this summer for summer camps such as math and science programs, Brazilian executives that come every summer and “learn the ways of America” (because face it Brazil is hot and aint as cool as us), and for students that bought a meal plan for the summer. I am Pippin’s gatekeeper on Tuesdays and Thursdays juggling all 400 people, running the convenience store, and getting everything ready for breakfast and lunch. The following is a collection of observations within eight hours of sitting (and occasionally stretching, dancing, and daydreaming).

UCI Squirrel

Dolphins (which are my favorite animal) can play with beach balls, swim through hoops, or bludgeon their trainers to death (whom they probably thought was a beach ball or a hoop), but who gives a damn?! These are useless skills in the wild! They don’t get fish everytime they score with a puffer fish inside a circular rock formation.

There’s a notorious squirrel thief that runs into Pippin only to grab a candy bar and run off outside. It doesn’t want nuts. It doesn’t eat leftover pizza like stupid crows. It goes for the big kahuna. She is the smartest animal that takes what she wants and when she wants it. How does it know there’s food inside the shiny wrapper?

How does it methodically plan entry and escape? Those tasks require higher brain centers to achieve. Darwin never expected this shit.

Here she is waiting for me to open.

Cosmos

There’s a much older group from high school called COSMOS which stands for math and science for 4 weeks or “please help my mother locked me up in UCI when I should be watching Spongebob”. A lot of them are amazed at the selection of gum and food the convenience store has to offer. Which makes you wonder since they don’t allow gum in some high schools, does it affect them in a way that makes them want it more? Honestly I could run a stat plot and find a very strong inverse correlation within age and number of packets of gum bought. When parents tell their boys not to dress up like mommy, does it make them more likely to do it in the future because it’s forbidden? I know that as a child I was told not to drink all the gravy because it must be used for mashed potatoes. So when everyone was caught up in conversation, guess what I did. There’s also a tougher druggie looking guy around fifteen or sixteen who cornered me with his other friends to buy a five bar energy shot. I’m guessing they had finals the next day and must pull an all nighter.

Five minutes went by like crazed college students trying marijuana for the first time.

“Okay guys how many are we buying?” the alpha male said.

“Oh my god I can’t believe we’re doing this!” someone screamed in delight.

“Let’s buy two and split it” said the second in command.

“We have to hide when we drink it!” said another guy.

“This is just like coffee right?” asked the alpha.

“I’m not actually sure you guys should be drinking this at your age.” I said.

“My mom never lets me have this stuff!” a lesser minion gave up in defeat

“We’ll take two” said the second.

I looked at the brooding alpha and from one to another, we formed a tacit understanding. He needed it to keep order in his constituency. I let him buy it knowing that some day it’ll stop his curiosity to buy bad things for him like a father letting the taste of hops discourage a child from drinking.

The Brazilian Executives

When I heard that 50 Brazilian executives that consisted of Brazil’s elite will be living in a dorm called Crickhollow in Middle Earth, it was definitely time to “slut it up”. I wish some gorgeous, cultured, intelligent, Rafael Monteiro looking guy could sweep me off my feet to live with him in Brazil. Or at least some Brazilian druglord who will feel sorry for me for working at the residential commons (I’ll hide the fact that I’m a supervisor) and detects my intellect to recruit me in his operations.

But to my detriment, I’ve never seen more fat and hairy guys clumped up together on campus. They were however extremely nice and always asked me about my day or how do I like working here. I retract my first statement above. I’d rather stay poor and meet my soulmate than be a whore. But as I said they were extremely nice and fatherly. The balance however was astounding. The women were so strong, tall, and beautiful. They looked like they prayed on young studs (like myself) that I almost wished I was straight then the above statement would’ve been realized. All of them were either naturally made up and spoke in a commanding tone I almost scrunched down on all fours waiting to get slapped. They weren’t in the ranks of Adriana Lima, but maybe like Jodie Foster, Meryl Streep, or in the case of a younger woman like Cameron Diaz.

Untitled

I’m tired of poems. They speak of what could be, what can be, what was, and yearning.

He became my new center. The world stayed spinning, but its axis was shifted to him. His stance was different from every other stance. Hair tousled and bounced differently from everyone else. His cheap jeans could be priced astronomically and I would still buy them for him.

I felt intense energy. I felt like jumping in the sky to claim a galaxy so we can live in it. I walked till dawn around campus one day to try to get rid these feelings. I have these often, but they get harder and harder to come by. Each dose of dopamine from the last guy subsequently increases. What if I reach my threshold? What if I never fall again?

I want him. I want all of him even the bad sides to the story. Anything he liked I automatically did.

There’s an intense craving I need to shake off because I’ve been told they will lead to nowhere… But I hate dreaming, action must be taken.

Tiny Children

There’s a group living in the dorms. Children of the GSA. The acronym sounds misleading however these are the Gifted Students of America, not the Gay Straight Alliance. I thought of a business idea, what happens to gays that turned straight from religious straight camps? If we get a hold of them, we can teach them how to fag it up again and give booster shots in the future. That’s another story. Once there was this little girl holding a banana talking to an imaginary Mexican. She was telling Pedro to “pack [my] suitcase because [I’m] going to Japan honey”. Where does a child of six or seven get such an attitude? Blame the parents, it’s probably them.

There was a little kid who looked like him, a mini-him. Perfectly proportional and compatible in every feature. A shot of electricity went from my gut to the side of my ears. Wouldn’t it be nice if I hired a pussy and made kids that looked exactly like him? We’d have a modern family with a vibrating dildo chandelier instead of a white picket fence. We’d grow old and watch our children play. We’d teach them what to love, what to hate, how to live a fruitful life, and when they’re gone it’ll be the two of us again. I’d like that too.

Random Diary Entry

June 25, 2010

Today I had dinner with a priest. Which gives me credit for about 20 weeks of not going to church. He was the same one that my parents brought to our house when I first came out to them. I know what you’re thinking, having dinner with that priest?! That’s WW3 as we know it!It wasn’t. I would’ve probably been fuming with rage. I didn’t. I would’ve also probably told him that I now have a better understanding of how the world works and have gotten over past events. I couldn’t.

We never actually talked about the whole gay thing. I adopted a very civilized and well spoken persona over the years. Every minute of seeing my family along with my cousins and myself coexisting peacefully gave me more closure. I felt that everything was going to be okay and I think I could finally let go on a lot of the baggage I’ve carried in the past.

We ate at a family favorite spot, Gerry’s grill in Artesia. It was his last weekend in that church, because priests have terms of office, five years per term and another church they go. The diocese does this in order to rotate the good ones to reach other sheep and of course the bad ones so they don’t fester up the same sheep and eventually drag them to hell themselves.

We debated about the removal of religion from schools. His position was obviously that they should keep it, mine was to throw it overboard. He started off by asking if I thought morals and values should be taught by the school system. And obviously, from his good technique in debate, I said yes. My position was that religion is a good context for morals, however it isn’t for everyone and that there are other sources for them for example grandparents that we are scared of, the justice system’s punishments, and the internal good of human beings. He counter-argued that God provides transcendence and is the best context for morals and values. In defense I asked “so which religion is the right one?” to which he replies that Christianity has had the longest run so far and has had the best track record. This is the point where we agree to disagree.

Anyway, too much verbiage. The whole night was just nice to feel the aura lighten up. Last time he was in the presence of our family, there were a lot of screaming, crying, and pointing fingers. Today was light, pleasant, and filled with jokes. Thanks for the closure father, and I pray that you’re well received in your new home in Panorama city as you have been in our lives. People connect in weird ways, he is the symbol of an institution that drove my family apart, but he is also one who helped glue it back together.

Please Come In! Don’t Mind the Vulture

A True Story

By: John Alejandro

Living in the Vista Del Campo community has been a luxurious and freeing experience. Constant dinners and kickbacks happen for the people that I hold close without the constant nagging of the parental units when I have people over. I had the privilege of living with a random who was probably one of the nicest and most caring people I’ve ever met and I hope he continues to rendezvous in my life. I’ll dub him Daye.

However as good things come, there is a sick balance of nature to equalize life. I also had the opportunity to feel personal hell of living with the worst roommate. I’ll dub him Zilla, an ode to a horrible monster from the deep. I’m not a difficult person to live with. In fact, I’m quite the opposite. I go out of my way to make sure your stay at Chateau John is more than pleasant. The place is always immaculately organized and clean. Housework is divided unfairly towards me favor and my friends are your friends. The first few weeks with Zilla and Daye were to test the waters. I read people easily and I knew right away that Zilla would be a problem.

September

I threw a back to school party equipped with the works, and I had made chicken wings. Hot, spicy, delicious and abundant about two trays enough to feed the army I was expecting. At its start, Daye, his girlfriend, my bff in exile Srixati, Zilla and I sat around waiting for people to come. It was quaint. As people arrived I took the wings out of the oven and mingled for a while. Different social circles converged while people were dancing on the living room.

About a quarter into the event, people started asking who the creeper was on the table staring at everyone? As far as I knew, I didn’t and generally don’t invite creepers to my parties. When I went outside to check on our mystery guest, I found Zilla in the center of the table with one tray of chicken wings on one side as he was brooding over a pile of chicken bones up front. It was as if there was an eating contest that I forgot to emcee. Even worse, it appeared as if he dissected and devoured a whole person (in buffalo sauce).

It appeared horrible, but I got a kick out of it because on one side of the room there was sensual dancing the mood Christmas lights were doing their magic, and on the other side a zombie was feasting on a carcass. Jokingly, I told Zilla to “save some for other people”. I don’t remember his reaction, but an acknowledging grunt, like from a cannibal, seems to fill the lapse in memory.

November

Pippin’s annual Halloween dinner was close and I needed a costume that says “I’m a cute nerd!” As if my regular style of dress doesn’t already suffice. I put on a maroon vest on top of a striped shirt and very skinny cream pencil chinos. It was a gay Clark Kent more than anything else, but whatever.

I went out of my room to solicit advice from Daye and his girlfriend, when Zilla comes out of his room a quarter of a second later (a common practice to ensure that he is included in any and every conversation). He had on a very stylish tattered white, or actually more yellow than white, wife-beater, a 500 o clock shadow, a splash of curly pube-like chest hair, and red shorts. Very avant-garde. And as I was about to leave Daye’s room he comes in so I stay for a while, because it’s always interesting what he will say next. Whenever he’s around, the atmosphere turns horrid sour, like if you just smelled a wet fart or you’ve just been told that your cousin is actually Hitler’s reincarnation. So I ask his opinion, what he thinks about the outfit never again will I do such a thing. He said without emotion and sort of a hungry look, “You look fucking adorable.” Silence. With a sentence, he took my will to live. I left for work.

Of course Daye and the girlfriend had the biggest laugh and now had ammunition to use and torture me for the next couple of weeks. I spent all night not resting from a long day’s work, but trying to convince them that the ogre did not like me whatsoever.

December

When you work in retail, food, or other repetitive jobs you develop unique skills and become very efficient. Like for example you find a faster way of folding clothes, setting up, dealing with monotony etc. Living with Zilla had not blessed me with a routine acceptance of his odd behaviors, instead to my detriment I developed ways to test and to observe them.

What can I use to get rid of this grease?

On one occasion I was washing dishes and like clockwork Zilla comes out of his room. He opened his cabinet to see if he still had any dried bats left to eat and stood two feet behind me, hovering… breathing down my neck…waiting… A normal person’s default thinking would be “Oh, he will do his dishes after I do mine.” I hurry up just a bit because I might have been inconveniencing him (Yes that’s a word I looked it up!) Minutes pass by and I finally finish rinsing. Before I could even turn around, he goes back to his room without doing them.

Please Come In! Don’t Mind the Vulture

I have friends over all the time. I tell them in advance to please come in, and don’t mind Zilla. He’s special. On another occasion, I had someone for lunch who thought I was merely exaggerating, which I often do, but alright don’t heed my warning you’re in for it. We had a nice lunch (which obviously whenever I have people over it’s hard to be polite and invite Zilla as well because A I don’t want to cook for him B The whole atmosphere Hitler thing). To my detriment that doesn’t actually matter. Zilla like clockwork comes out of his room, I introduce him to her, which is the least I could do, and he grabs a chair next to her. We start talking, and I throw in a couple of leads for him the way you do when the people you’re talking to don’t know each other. But pretty soon I get tired of including him in the conversation. Sink or swim buddy. So he sits and doesn’t talk for the rest of the lunch, simply just listens and stares at us for the next 5 hours.

Winter Quarter

Sexy Incident

Zilla’s been absent for quite some time. Daye was told that Zilla was rushing for a fraternity. “What frat would accept him?” I thought or if accepted “In the near future many will be creeped upon, poor women (or men…only god knows).” I’m just sort of glad he’s out of my hair for a while. Then, before you know it old Zilla strikes again. I was only told of this by Daye’s girlfriend.

Apparently he came home drunk that night, which I can confirm because I saw him still sleeping when I got back, one arm hugging the top of the couch. He slept while tufts of chest hair protruding out of the wife-beater danced on my comforter. I washed it right away. Anyway, the girlfriend was doing something in the kitchen and out of nowhere Zilla says “Hey why don’t you wear something provocative”. I burst out laughing. FINALLY I had revenge after the Halloween costume incident. Then rape crossed my mind and stopped the laughter.

“Put that fucking bitch in his place.” I told Daye “That’s your girlfriend!”

He shrugged it off and called it a day.

Daye’s Room

We were in the living room drinking tea and studying, a habit during finals. Every minute we’d find a distraction. Either “hey you want some soup” or “hey check this out, it’s a new” or “did you know that google chrome is better than the world” or “what’s the strongest strain of weed?” Any question would result in his trademark answer “we should look it up!” His tone is similar to anchorman’s “And that’s the way the cookie crumbles!”

Studying for finals is not as entertaining without Zilla. This story is more abstract than actually interesting or weird. Put your own interpretation into it. I will. Zilla would periodically come out of his cave to open his side of the kitchen cabinet, look inside to see if the wild buffalo is done curing, decides that it needs a couple more hours of smoke, and leaves back to his room. Five minutes later he’ll be back to open the fridge, look inside, and leaves without anything. Ten minutes later his buffalo is perfectly cooked (which is disguised as a box of cereal), he takes a couple of bites puts the box back and walks off.

Later that night I saw the silhouette of a shadow from Daye’s light. Zilla was inside his room. He knew the whole time that we were in the living room, and he stayed a good two minutes.

“Hey he’s inside your room!” I said

“What’s he doing in there?” Daye asked

“I dunno god, maybe looking for a wife?”

And after this, both our doors are locked if we’re gone for an extended amount of time.

Hasta La Vista Baby

Daye’s really nice. He is the yin to my yang when it comes to interacting with Zilla. That is, I don’t and he does. One day standing in front of his den they were chatting it up like no other. I was on the sofa reading when I heard an insane out of nowhere machine gun of Swarchenegger gibberish from Zilla. He sounded something like “Atotatatotao I lika ita lika data.”

And again there is always a bar to be raised.

Food

I’m usually generous to my friends. There is just that connection like family and I make food for them. They can usually grab whatever they want in my kitchen. Zilla, however is not a friend. Zilla pillages our food, and worst of all he doesn’t even ask. I’m not a stingy person, but damn that’s my food that he didn’t ask permission for. He only steals things that he can get away with like milk, cereal, protein powder, etc. To my surprise, I’ve stooped to a new low and created scenarios and tests just to confirm it has been him:

Milk

Do you ever wonder what happens to milk when you don’t drink it for a while? It drinks itself! Yes its true! Just like air fresheners, if you don’t use milk it lessens in volume. I measured milk down to the meniscus (which I didn’t really have to because a significant amount was taken over a period of a couple of days). Once I found out it was being used, I started writing my name on my milk.

However it isn’t enough, what if Daye was using it? I had to know! It was still being consumed even with my name.

So one day I ask Daye, “Hey, how does he eat cereal in his bowl (that has milky residue on the sink) if he doesn’t actually buy milk?”

So the next day I wrote “DO NOT USE!!!” under my name. I wish scientists could have this kind of instant gratification when performing complementation tests, but right when I wrote this, Zilla bought two 2 gallon jugs of vitamin D milk the next day. And started buying his own milk halfway through the year.

Sugar Cookie

I dislike sugar cookies. The vanilla with sugar has such a cheap taste in my mouth, my tastebuds would rather commit suicide than be involved with the,. So I decided to use them as bait and left it in the main fridge, not my personal one. Throughout the week the count went down by four.

“Question, its totally fine if you did, but did you eat four sugar cookies from the container?” I asked Daye.

He shook his head and I explained to him the situation.

Cookie

One night after a round of mayhem and eating, Daye drops a chocolate covered biscotti cookie all over the dirty kitchen floor.

“Wait” and this is where I turned evil “I’m gonna do something with it”

I set it on a napkin and left it on the table conspicuously before we called it a day. The next morning, the cookie disappeared.

“You didn’t throw the cookie away did you?” I asked Daye

“Nope”

And I realized the napkin was still there with screaming evidence, the crumbs were still there…

Protein powder

Any bodybuilder or anyone who subscribes to substituting some plant protein instead of too much red meat knows how expensive protein powder is. There was still about a quarter of it when I left for summer vacation. Upon my return, I could see the bottom of the container.

Just like the cure for cancer, I can only find leads and affirmations as to how I can test what kind of food Zilla has been pillaging. I’m sure there are many other things I’ve missed. God knows what else he’s been stealing from Daye, who always has a variety of food to survive three nuclear holocausts. Judging from the type of food he stole, I’ve deduced that he’s a deranged Santa Claus.

Spring Quarter

Hookah Hooligan

Srixati, Janeyp, Daye and I were smoking hookah. But of course to be polite Zilla was invited along. Throughout the night Zilla would pull out his Blackberry to take pictures of this wondrous night. I tried my best to avoid him having a picture of me on his phone.

I finally asked him to “please not take a picture of me. I don’t want this to go up on facebook”

“It’s only hookah what’s the problem” Zilla said

“I don’t want people to see this and misconstrue it” I said.

After agreeing not to I started to pretend text in the awkward situation. When I looked up I saw a flash. He took one last picture of me behind the hookah. I glared at him and imagined his hair on fire. I took Srixati inside my room and vented…

Would You Like Some Ass Crack?

Daye was working up some circuits or whatever he does experimentally on paper for his electrical engineering class. He was sitting on a stool with his finals stuff on the dinner table. Zilla decides to study with him. However, the bar will be raised again. Instead of sitting next to or in front of Daye like a normal person, he decides to take the scenic route. He laid his towel on the dirty floor next to the trash can and, like a dolphin begging for some stinky, faced Daye’s ass. Faced, not as in across the room. Faced, as in two feet away and he can get a whiff of the nasty.

“Did you see how he was laying down earlier?” Daye asked.

“Yeah haha I guess he really wanted to ask.”

Final thoughts

I obviously am humanizing someone so socially defunct. This essay was written to ask this question. How far do you go to be polite to a roommate? What is my boiling point?

According to my reflections. I went really far to be polite to someone I dislike, however I made it known to Zilla that I hate his guts. That may sound like I am either a sucker for punishment or a fake, but for some ingrained reason there is something that tells me I should be a good person. As for the second question, I do not have a boiling point. I have the patience of a brick wall. Damn it…

Collection

So I've decided to make a blog as a storehouse for my nonfiction and fiction and life stories.

This will replace me posting stuff in the "notes" tab on facebook. There are also some stories that I did which I released here and not on my profile.

I will hopefully write more this summer.

Thanks,

Johnny

Out of my league

By: John Alejandro


I singled him out in a crowded room. He was beautiful; slender but sinewy. Sporting cream pencil chinos and an oversized grey cardigan made him surreal, ethereal and woodsy. I met his glance. He knew what I wanted and even better, he knew what I needed. I walked toward him, with no purpose or main goal. I just wanted get close. He looked at me and then my pants. I flashed him my trademark smile and he grinned back. He grabbed my jeans and led me through the aisle. He opened a door to let me in.

He had eyes of silver water. Immediately I stalled to gaze at the most beautiful pair of eyes I have ever seen in my twenty years. They were so magnificent, so beautiful that I have to say it again. Sus ojos bonitos fueran un rio de plata narcotica. Within a split second they told me an epic tale of sincerity, love, and warmth. Gold hair tousled out into a peak from brown roots. There was no sheen about him, nothing too shiny or flashy. His lack of luster, however, was overshadowed by his simple elegance. There was radiance about his whimsical stature and his charming smile. And for one of the first times, I fell for a twinkish blonde.

For some reason I thought of what I looked like and what I was wearing. I wore the wrong shoes today, white Jacks. I also wore the wrong everything. White short sleeves above a striped shirt with marble glasses. Contrary to him, I was trendy and shiny. I looked like an off duty doctor... or a regular Asian kid.

“Please let me know if you need anything” he said.

“Thank you.” I said politely and smiled at him again. “What’s your name?”

“Oh…uh…Michael. Michael M________” his eyes lit up like gasoline fire suspended on water.

“Nice to meet you Michael. Thank you for the room.”

“Same…Let me know if you need another size” he said softly.

“I think I’ll be fine thank you.” I finally said as he walked away.

…I smiled and thanked him again when I finished and walked out of the store. It took more muscles to keep my neck from turning back to catch one last glimpse than to build a Michelangelo replica.


To Michael M.
If for a statistically impossible chance you end up on my page and read this,
I wrote about you…

My Best Friend The Kingfisher

Dedicated to Izzy and Annabella
By: John Alejandro

My name’s Anabella, but her name’s Izzy… She was stubborn and feisty. Her skin is a valley of white clouds and her breasts mountains of soft pillows, while her eyes were windows to her soul. I love running my hands through her straight silky hair and waking up the following morning only to find a curly dead porcupine. And that’s what I really loved is our beginnings, our au naturale.

We met when shards of summer heat danced along the blacktop and when there was a lack of a major presence in her day. She was going through a rough phase where she was trying to find herself and I was there to help her out with that. At first, I never took a second look. At first I just thought of her as a friend, but when as time progressed my feelings grew. At the time my career was a Bugatti doing two hundred on a freeway, but she was a fast coming exit. I was dumbstruck, and all I had was unrequited love.

There is a blue bench between the arts wing and history wing. Sit there, and watch the sunset after basketball and school. Actually, before and during also. Do this and be free from the strangle of day to day life and escape higher up’s time constraints for a growing teenager. Become luminous with good memories, the beginnings. Sit at “the spot”. Nothing mattered. Do this and anything that bothers you will no longer. When I was there with her, nothing besides us mattered…

Friendship blossoms in many ways. Ours did in a way that I could never fully comprehend up until now. She gradually spent less time with her friends and spent it with me. I was happy. She said that I taught her how to be more appreciative and no one made her realize her feelings the way I did. I never thought about us and I didn’t like her in that way. But curiosity struck me and made me reassess my feelings for her.

A year later, our friendship evolved from something that was mutual to nothing at all…temporarily… We drifted apart. There was never a big fight. We avoided each other and everything was done out of sanity, a roller coaster.

We all went our separate ways for a while. Basketball season started again and Izzy still avoided me. We’d be around each other but it was awkward. At the time I was still in a relationship with a bitch. She was clingy and dependent who asked me to put her above school. It was just one of those relationships where one cared more about the other. In this case, I didn’t care for her much nor did I have strong feelings for her.

As for me and Izzy, alcohol intervened.

Meet her and get to know her. Develop a friendship and get really close. Understand each other more. See if you have a connection. Call her by a pet name. Suffer through brief hell. Drink away. Do this and see the fortuitous rise of a friendship’s transformation.

When my current relationship was unraveling, I talked to Izzy. When I had a stalker and was scared. She comforted me. At the time, the parents weren’t so hot either. She was there. Everytime something went wrong she was always there to comfort me. Just like I was for her.

After weeks of debunking the roller coaster, I found out that it was ambivalence and not I who caused the awkwardness. “I’m not supposed to like girls. It’s against my religion you see?” If you can reason with religious people, there would be no religious people.

Winter break, we’d drink before games, which was excellent because we’d be really prepared for kicking the other team’s asses. And then sometimes after games we’d stay and sell snacks and take tickets. When we were off, we’d sit around and waste time. Two other teammates helped bandage a cracked friendship and things started to repair. Soon the other two faded away and it was us again.
One time Izzy got really drunk and like a ragdoll I sat her on the floor where I comforted her and let her rest. She then started mumbling.

“mmro…I havah somun’ to tell you, but I dun a wanna tell you. I can’t tell you?”

She was wasted.

“I like you mmro”

At first I thought she was just drunk, but deep down I had a notion that she liked me too. I was so absorbed in the moment where nothing in the world mattered, happy…I was happy that she did the job for me. I was ambivalent before but this set the wheels in motion.

“I like you too, mmro” =)

Crap I was still with the bitch. I didn’t know what to do without being such a jerk to her. Speaking of being a jerk, I did it anyway. I ended up taking care of Izzy rather than go on our planned date to Disneyland. At the time, I would’ve left her over and over again to hear her mumble these soft words.
We stayed in my car, and she threw up inside it. I rushed beside her to open the door to let her throw up some more…outside. I held her. It felt good. I liked taking care of her and assuring her that everything will be okay. I kissed her forehead and held her until her carriage whisked her away.
Tell her you like her. If she told you first, then tell her you like her back. Even if she’s drunk. And when she is drunk, let her throw up in your car. It’s okay because she’s worth more. Do this and you will discover truths that will make you happy.

The moment replayed in loops in my head. When we hung out after, it was left unsaid. Our cracked friendship rekindled, but it burned ablaze now. Weeks later I broke up with the controlling bitch. Not for Izzy, but because she was driving me crazy. It was hard to be with her, but Izzy definitely drove her off the cliff. One day, Bitch wanted to talk to me and pulled me outside of gym to try to get back together. Then, Izzy lunged forward both of them went off at each other. I left with Izzy. I was her territory now.

Izzy was the only one where I could see a future with. Planning things like someday we’ll travel. Someday we’ll have a dog, and kids, and a little white boy named Johnny. She would spoil all of them so much. Now someday will never come. No…it’s not like that. But it’s more than you should know. She likes a girl and we could never be together. But as long as she’s happy I’ll be okay. And the girl before was what I really loved. Her natural self, au natural unchanged.

Upkeep

Written February 2010
By: John Alejandro

Pick your beau
Like a summer fruit
One filled with delight
Ripe with a refreshing take on life
Leave ones with cynicism, hate, and spite to rot and die
Don’t settle for less

Feed him like a sunflower
Prepare spirit and intellect mix with love and bake in affection
Let him taste the purity of your kisses
And whisper sweet happiness five times a day

Love him as if he was a canary
Be the foundation to plant his feet on
Sunshine to bask in
And room to breathe
Then he will always fly back

Paint your man
Not like a Dali, disillusioned and twisted
But like an Alejandro, elegant, powerful, and elite
His status will be forever linked with yours

Write to him like a wounded soldier
Use verbs of passion and words privy to you and him
Take time for cursive, a font suited for someone special
Then he will appreciate the subtle elegances you’ve chosen

He will read your compassion, absorb your influence,
rest on your base, and savor your happiness

I Adored You

Written December 2009

By: John Alejandro

If you’ve read the fictions part 1 and 2, the following is the tragedy and the yin of this fiction. Yet again Royce does not exist or is based on anyone.

“Haha…um…about Friday…I don’t think it’s going to work out” Royce said nonchalantly with music in his voice.

Silence…Complete frigid quiet and an aura of confusion enveloped me. In my last attempt to save face and at least remedy my embarrassment for having divulged what I truly felt for him the week before, I scattered words to keep my promise. They spilled like a baby vomiting hastily chewed peas on the kitchen floor. As I uttered words, my constitution unraveled and I could feel every part of who I was and who I imagine myself to be boil down into a vulnerable shaky foundation. I felt one of my biggest fears. I became less than who I was.

“Well it turns out that the charge nurse threw out your application away so that the director can’t hire you. I’ll need you to fill out another one.”

“What?” he scoffs. “Another application?”

“He’ll be there waiting up until night.”

“I can’t I’m busy tonight”

“The opportunity is there, don’t waste it. I promised you the job.” I said sheepishly.

The stillness of the afternoon in front of the empty sidewalk magnified the quiet. I debated whether regret or relief encapsulated me at that moment in time, but the weather suggested which I should feel. The angry clouds hid an illuminating, but tranquil sunlight. An icy breeze slapped me in the face while I was immobile, stunned in a script that I could never have predicted.

This is it, let go, leave. This is what you wanted in the first place. Rejection in exchange for sanity right? Next time, guard more carefully and don’t let someone in too fast.

I want to keep going. Maybe I didn’t spend enough time with him and maybe I needed to get closer.

It’s a burning sinking ship. Jump. After everything you put yourself through for him, you deserved a little more than a pusillanimous one-lined rejection.

I can’t. What if it can work out later? There are too many things to say, so little time and opportunity to do so.

Do it. Just learn from your mistakes. You’ll be alright.

And in seconds of silence that paralleled the seasons of him that I’ve endured, I said “Whether or not you go, it was nice knowing you. Goodbye.” and walked away.

---------------------------------------------

I parked my Honda Civic in front of the gym and jogged inside to get a head start on my workout. I greeted the front desk clerk and ran up the steps pumped to start a workout. Upon deciding that I’d use the ab machine first, I realized that someone was already using it. There was one right next to him though, but how awkward, it’s really close to him. Whatever, I’ll just ask for his permission.

“Hi, do you mind if I used this machine?”

“Yes, go ahead”

I find it interesting how many people don’t know how that question works; they usually offer a contradictory statement in response. Upon acknowledging him for his kindness, I recognized him.
I turned to him and asked excitedly “Heyyyy aren’t you Cheryl’s friend?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s mine too! My name’s Johnny what’s yours?”

“Royce”

“It’s nice to meet you Royce.”

Time for my workout.

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I can’t sleep. It’s 3 am. I can’t keep the thoughts of you from racing through my mind. No matter how hard I try, I deliberate through every action I’ve taken and your reaction to them. Every word from every sentence I’ve sequenced, analyzed, and proofread like 3 million base pairs of DNA from the moment we started talking. Not that there was anything wrong with what I said. Or is there? This springs forth an insecurity, a quest to find error in logic that I may have made, a mishap, or an unavoidable truth that I may have prematurely divulged. All this to try to get closer to you, to be able to appear coolly in a state of heightened alarm, panic, and utmost guard from failure. I’ve never felt so vulnerable, so inconsistent from my calm constitution. Being around you brings me to a consciousness I’ve never experienced before. Tachycardia and shallow breaths, but not overly done that you may hear it from when you are beside me. I encountered a newfound softness and care for everything that exists, and in this sense you bring out what some may deem as the best in me. Hearing your laughter and seeing you smile brews a yearning to hold you in my arms and never let go. Let me be those arms and ears that buffer your dream world and reality. But I can’t just yet.

--------------------------

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” I asked randomly as if it just left my mouth without previous thought.

“What?” Royce said shocked as I almost regretted asking in the first place.

“Well we always work out at the same time, I realized that you may be hungry after” I retorted wishing to get to know him more meanwhile hiding behind a veil of practicality.

“What? But later we’ll be all sweaty and gross.”

“Well I have a couple of extra shirts in the car and there’s a cafe not too far from here.” I sounded more eager than before

“Okay…I’ll wait for you outside at five?”

“Alright!” I burst out in happiness pointing out a spot to meet later.

I quickly finished my workout not realizing the sudden zeal that I carried throughout the afternoon. After changing, I almost ran out with anxiety to meet him. I went outside of the gym to my surprise he wasn’t there.

“Johnny…” a voice uttered from behind “I was sitting right there, you didn’t see me?”

“Oh, no sorry” I blushed. However, previous knowledge that my perfect tan masks any outward show of rushing blood comforted me.

“Okay let’s go?”

“Mhmm!” I mumbled rubbing my perfectly contoured abs.

The way to dinner consisted small talk mixed with spotty dialogue of what I considered his deeply kept
information. I handed him my IPod and to my surprise he played songs filled the car from artists such as Michael Buble and Jason Mraz.

“I used to sing this song with my grandpa.” He said mentally pointing to the tune.

“Used to?” I hinted at the possibility that this wasn’t continued to this day.

“Well he’s ill now…It’s kinda sad” nostalgia painted his face. He slouched in his seat and grimaced. He played another love song.

“God Royce you’re going to make me melt from the songs you play and we’re not going to make it out alive for dinner.” I joked casually that included utmost truth.

“Sorry.” He uttered and followed the statement by changing to rock music.

“No. It’s not a problem”

Dinner consisted of a salad and his mentioning of the fact that he’s applying for a job at the hospital I work at. I deeply wanted for him to become my coworker to be able to get to know him more. Scenarios already flooded my mind as to how I can get him a job there.

We went to the bakery next to the café and I bought us bread which he furiously got mad at me for.

“NO! What are you doing?” as he yanked the bread out of my hand “I mean…me and my friends we let each other pay for stuff, but not strangers.” Royce said. The word stung.

“Don’t worry about it, let’s just say I feel generous today. It’s not a big deal”

We walked to the car and I asked him if he wanted to go to the mall. He didn’t, so I resorted to more drastic measures. Puppy dog eyes, full pouting lips, and creased eyebrows.

“Come on…live a little” I plead.

“Okay…” he sounded annoyed.

The carousel faintly lit the sidewalk as we walked around it to reach my favorite store. Irrelevant chatter reached my ears and exited the other as I walked. I was absorbed in our conversation and under his influence.

“He fits.” I thought to myself.

You know when someone clicks for you. I don’t get it too often, but when I do I am going to do everything to favor that situation. I felt that for him and it’s indescribable except in a sense that I have a rock star crush. However, he was far from that fame. In fact, I was probably more blinded by the fact that he’s this amazing person so well that I didn’t see that I was about to bulldoze a small child in a red hoodie. Suddenly his hand pushed me back as he saved the poor child from my ignorance. He smiled gently at the child and glared at me. I saw concern in his eyes and guilt enveloped me as I thanked him and apologetically smiled at my unknown victim.

“He’d be such a great dad” I thought to myself intoxicated. “He’d be very caring and sweet. What a great guy.”

We continued our way to the store where he sat down and looked at some books while I picked out an outfit for a party.

Evil took over and I asked him to give me his resume and application the next time I saw him. I have a lot of eye candy, but they’re all never worth pursuing. Thinking of the possibility of having him there at work sent mini nuclear explosions in my stomach. I don’t understand what’s happening as of now, but I would definitely threaten quit my job only for them to hire him. This fatal attraction is insane. I wanted to do everything in my power for him no matter what.


------------------

In a disgusting turn of events I noticed that, it’s as if Friday never happened. Our talks at seldom lunches, at the mall, and far from monotony in the gym dissipated. On the following hot fall day, the droplets of whatever slight bond we formed, evaporated quickly into a cloud of confusion that turned into a lysergic haze blocking the vision of what I’d planned out. As if reality wasn’t skewed enough from his favorable existence, it was then shattered by his cold shoulder. I am lost. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this unfortunate animosity. He transformed into someone so closed. Why was Friday so surreal? He was so carefree and light. It felt like we knew each other longer than two weeks. In the recent days after he turned into an ugly oyster, cloistered and ready to snap once someone approached its vicinity. What pearl was he trying to protect? As more days went by, things became schizophrenic.

“Hey Royce.”

A nod of his head to acknowledge my meager existence. Hmm…Today’s a bad day.

“How was job hunting?”

“It was okay.”

“What did you do yesterday?”

“Disneyland”

----------------------------

“Hey Royce.”

“Hi. How was your weekend?” he waved his hands hello.

Hmm. Today’s a good day.

“It was good, one of my patients drank floor cleaner”

“Couldn’t handle the world huh?”

“It was an accident. He thought it was Gatorade.”

“Haha oh my gosh.”

Chorus X6, endure, and repeat.

--------------------------------------


I called him excitedly trying to hide the fact that his interview was successful and that he was already in the formality process of being hired!

“I have a surprise for you”

“What is it?”

“Can you wait till tomorrow? I want to tell you in person.”

“Noo…I hate waiting. Why can’t you tell me now?”

Unnecessarily, we spent an hour talking on the phone. I loved the sound of his voice and favored the long pauses because I could recollect my thoughts and say what I need to. But to my detriment the last three quarters of the call became whining galore whereas he was leaning towards not taking the job. I finally gave up and told him on the phone.

“GOOD NEWS! My boss just told me that you’re heading to orientation in a couple of weeks! It was going to be a surprise…so THERE!” I almost said screaming.

I’m so happy. I didn’t know I could pull it off! Not only that, but he gets a get out of jail free card from med surge!

“Tuesdays also? I volunteer at a soup kitchen on Tuesdays.”

“Well okay, think this through. What would you rather do?” I asked sounding as non-biased as possible, while in the meantime trying to understand what’s in his head.

“I want to stay…”

“I don’t know if you understand what’s at stake here. This is a job. Handed to you on a silver platter.” I said politely. In this economy, I think he would rather be the one needing the help of the organization.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

I busted my ass for him one last time and got him off the Tuesday that he so desperately needed to stay involved with the soup kitchen. He whined too much last night and I was sick of it. But in some sadistic way, I kind of liked the fact that we talked on the phone for so long. However, that was very disappointing and made me feel underappreciated for everything I’ve done. It was one of the straws that led to the last.


--------------------------------------------------

Meeting him threw me off. But no…I figured I’d stick around a little bit and fully see who he is. Now that I have, I found an immature too innocent person with an extreme case of peter-pan syndrome.
In the same spontaneous spark that made me chase after him, I reversed it. He saw me at the gym today. I didn’t realize it until he towered above my mat and awkwardly waved as I was stretching. His scrunching face reminded me of a pig fed, happy, and content. I then stretched as hard as I can. I did a dolphin pose and looked as relaxingly calm as possible. I knew he was looking at me as I pretended he didn’t exist.

I began my descent. Instead of going cold turkey, I’ll just tell him what I really feel and he can do whatever he wants with the information. Whether he let me in or not, I’ve invested too much time and emotion to just let six weeks fly away.

We played badminton with a friend. He ended up in my team through a game of rock paper scissors, I liked that. He tried to play really well and I thought he was trying too hard. My friend hit his face with the birdie twice and then his shoulder the third time. I wanted to lunge at him and start clawing his face for hurting Royce. I still felt overprotective even though I’m in the process of forgetting he existed, but it killed me to see him cringe and get hurt. But if it’s any consolation, I sincerely did like him. He made me feel like I was a kid again yearning for puppy love that I never really had, because fat kids don’t have girlfriends in elementary school and I didn’t even think of the possibility that boys could be with other boys. He was one of the first few guys that came close to my standards, sweet and down to earth. He was sensitive and the way he smilingly saved that kid, I’ll never forget it. And if anything I’m grateful to have met him in giving me the insight of what I want later on.

“Hey Royce?” I called out his name as we walked out of the gym

“Yeah?” he asked

“Can I tell you something?” I stuttered.

“Okay…”

“Promise not to flip out?”

“What is it?”

“Well I’ve known you for only six weeks now and I can honestly say that I’ve never felt like this for anyone ever before. I get really excited on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays just to be able to see you and work out with you. I like the fact that you’re down to earth about everything. And so I just want to say that I think you’re cute and that I really like you. You’ve been so closed lately, and well if you’d let me I’d like to spend more time with you.”

I spoke with yearning in my voice, painfully eager to be let down just so I can get over this chapter of my life. But some part of me was hoping for a faint glimmer of hope, some kind of chance that could possibly lead to us spending a little more time with each other.

“I’m sorry…I don’t even know if you are or not. I’m sorry, this was all really stupid.” I looked down and counted the dislodged stones from the gravel cement and kicked them with my shoe.

“No it’s okay.” He said reassuringly as he smiled. “Can we talk about this later?”

Confusion brooded over me. I figured that if time was the last thing I could give him, I would wholeheartedly do so. And if there is something he needed to think about, that would be favorable also. I walked across the barren gym parking lot faintly lit by harsh halogen lighting. I decided that at the end of the day when we meet and talk again, whatever will be said will be on a positive note. With a huge grin on my normally desolate face, I opened the car door and drove home humming.