When it seems like the world looks at you as if you’re supposed to be a fuck up. When your own parents tell you you’re a fuck up. When nobody believes in yourself… shit gets really hard to handle. It would be much easier to be done with life as I know it. I was supposed to end my life many years ago anyways. The only reason why I’m still here is because I believe in myself. I believe some day soon I’ll be everything I dreamed I would ever be. I believe I’m already becoming what I’m meant to be.
Right now I wish for the whole world to go fuck itself. For everything bad I represent even before I was born, before I had a chance to speak for myself, before they even asked me my name.
Not a day goes by that I don’t think about these things. Year after year, day after day, I deal with looks that turn into words and then into actions. I can stand quietly in any corner of any street in the world and I can still ’cause a reaction on most people. Make them tuck their purses, make them smile, make them cross the street, almost never nothing happens. At least not for the past 28 years I’ve been alive.
I feel like my parents should have made my life easier for me growing up. I don’t think they did. I would trade my parents and all the scars they inflicted in my mind just for peace. These scars I try to hide every day. Every fucking day of my life I tell myself “shit is alright”, “shit is going to be better”… I’m tired of talking to myself, padding myself on the back and I don’t want anybody to feel sorry for me either. I just want everything and by now I should have something, but I don’t feel like I do.
And then I think: I shouldn’t even be writing this shit down, ’cause this is how the world is and life doesn’t deal everybody a good hand. If my life was a game of poker I’d say I was dealt a 9 and a 3. A 9 for having parents who stuck together and provided a steady income for the family, and a 3 for being black.
I just finished watching another episode of Law and Order. This one was about a half black, half Asian kid that was a product of his mother being raped. Without ever knowing his father, he ends up raping and murdering Asian women. And while he was growing up with his Asian side of the family in China Town, he was always belittled and insulted not only by people outside the family, but also in the family. So, did he commit these crimes because he had the genes of his criminal father or was it because of his environment growing up?
The more I think about genes and whether or not they influence our actions, I have to believe they somehow do. However, our environment plays a big role in helping us become what we choose to become. About genetics, for example, how can we explain the instinct of a baby to suck on a nipple and hold the breath underwater? Some of our actions are so tightly sown into our genetics that we no longer think about them; like coughing. We cough because we want to expel something from our body, but I never thought about the actual step by step act of coughing while I was doing it…
I’m convinced though, that our environment plays a much bigger role in our becoming than our genetics. Well, come to think about it, our genetics influence the way others look at us and that over a long period of time can cause any person to create new behavioral patterns, whether good or bad. Our environment is not just people, it is also resources available to us that will influence the way we eat and dress.
I can’t think of anything more important for children than to have an environment and the resources necessary to help them succeed in life. This is why I prefer to help the youngest. Because even though it takes more time and dedication to help a young person, it is easier than to have to fight and fix already learned behaviors. I keep saying I’m going to make something out of The Bullen Foundation. Maybe this is the year it happens.
About the title: it’s been a while since I read about redwood trees, but they didn’t become simply because of one aspect of their everyday life. It is the seed, the water, the sun and the rest of the plants and trees around them that in time transformed a tree into a redwood tree.
I’ve never felt more dead than when I was a subordinate to my parents or employers. I don’t think it’s right that I felt that way with my parents, but that’s what happened. As long as I live, I know I will be living the life I want to live or fighting to live that life.
I don’t think it’s right that people die without ever experiencing another culture or spending more than half their lives working just to meet their needs. But it’s also natural that people do these things because we’re afraid of the unknown. Having a job and knowing what to expect every day is a lot more easy than having a business and having to take big risks.
The risks entrepreneurs take are a hit or miss. You either make it or you don’t, and when there is a lot invested it could frighten anyone. Only does that truly believe in themselves will eventually succeed.
I remembered that when I was a little kid the teachers at school complained to my parents that I was always falling asleep. I even used to miss the recess time because of it. One time I woke up just after recess and two teachers were discussing what to do about my problem. It wasn’t the first time, so they wrote a letter to my parents and my dad took me to see my pediatrician and figure out what was wrong with me.
The doctor did some blood test and found out my hemoglobin was low. It’s an iron deficiency. I had to consume things rich in iron for a while and that seemed to cure things for the moment. It wasn’t the last time I fell asleep in class, but it was expected. Isn’t that when people do when the interest is not there?
My report: I can’t imagine how it must feel for a soldier to return home after risking his/her life fighting and not receive a warm welcome or any type of appreciation. I don’t know if I could ever do that. I’m just not good at doing things for the sole purpose of someone elses’ benefit or sacrificing my life for a little money. I respect those who do it and I wish them well. This was a good and entertaining movie. You do end up wondering what happens to everyone at the end of the movie. I guess there is a second part.
Rating:
About it: A 23-year-old Peruvian Navy veteran struggles to re-integrate himself into society only to hit a series of roadblocks both societal and psychological, in the feature directorial debut from Peruvian filmmaker Josue Mendez. Santiago Roman (Pietro Sibille) has just returned to Peru following six years of military service. Coolly received by his parents and unable to find a stable, well-paying job, the dejected Santiago’s attempt to further his education is quickly squelched when he discovers that his military pension doesn’t offer the money needed to pay his way through school. Though Santiago eventually lands a low-paying job as an inner-city taxi driver, his disdain for the scum of the city finds the formerly virile young soldier sinking into a deep-rooted depression. When a group of Santiago’s former military buddies hatch a plan to rob a local bank, the conflicted veteran must choose between an honest life of poverty and an act of desperation that could end in tragedy. ~ Jason Buchanan, All Movie Guide
My report: I was only somewhat aware that there was a dictatorship in Argentina and knew nothing about the kidnappings and assassinations. This movie thought me a lot. I always try to guess what’s going to happen next and usually before the movie ends I know how it’s going to end. Well, not this one. I wonder if there are any similar cases about kidnappings in Panama due to its dictatorship era and if so how many are still unresolved.
Rating:
About it: Gaston Biraben’s political thriller Cautiva (Captive) concerns itself with what happened to the children of the people killed after the 1970s military coup. Cristina Quadri (Barbara Lombardo) is the model of a perfect student. Smart and affluent, her life is in perfect order until, one day, she is called from her class and made to appear in front of a judge. The judge informs her that her real parents were killed in the ’70s. Cristina is forced to go live with her grandmother Elisa (Susana Campos), who has spent the past 20 years attempting to locate Cristina (whose birth name was Sofia). Although, at first, she is hurt, bitter, and confused, Cristina/Sofia eventually grows to care for Elisa and begins to research the fate of her parents. Captive was an award winner at the 2003 San Sebastian Film Festival. ~ Perry Seibert, All Movie Guide
Saturday was the day that me and Tracy had planned to go to El Valle. I was more exited about the idea of being away from home than going on a trip with her. I really didn’t think of her in a sexual way. I guess it was my innocence.
Somehow we ended up meeting a Native American girl from Saskatchewan, Canada, Louise was her name I believe. Ha… I just remembered having the hardest time trying to say her name right. My English then was not as good as it is now. but anyways, on the way to El Valle we exchanged a lot of interesting stories and got to know each other a lot better. This is, by the way, one of the coolest things about traveling: getting to meet people from other cultures and learning from them. I love that. There we were, a white girl from California, a Native American girl from Canada and a black guy from Panama, all speaking in our own accents and getting along just fine. I would really like for everyone in this world to get the opportunity to experience other cultures and countries.
I had been to El Valle many times before, so I took them to the zoo and we had a nice walk around town also. I remember being worried the whole time because I hadn’t told my parents where I was going. I knew that if I would have asked, they would have given me the usual answer: no. So I had stopped asking for permission on many things for a while now. I would just go places behind their back and hope that I could make it on time for my parents not to find out what I had done.
Tracy, Louise and I were having a good time and before we knew it, I had to catch the last bus home. The two girls were thinking about spending the night and they enjoyed my company and wanted me to stay, which I did. They had already paid for a room at a cabaña, which is like a hostel but you get your own private room with a shower and bathroom. The owner of the cabaña had charged the two girls about $20 for the night. She had said that if I was staying there would be an additional $5 charge. I was trying to stay in without having to pay, but when the last bus back to the city had already left and she saw me there, she didn’t miss the beat and charged me. I mention this because at the time it seemed like a lot of money to me. I had taken that trip with about $11. It always amazed me how people would come to Panama and spend money quite freely, especially if they were from the U.S.. Now I know why.
That night the girls had the big idea of going salsa dancing. I wasn’t into that idea because I was the only guy. If one or both of them got drunk or whatever, it’s all on me. But I wanted them to have a good time, so we went down to this local bar and hung out for a good while. I just kept looking everywhere and watching their drinks. The whole bar was full of guys and a few were brave enough to come talk to us. They would try talking to me in English first to try to figure out which one I was dating. As soon as I replied to them in Spanish they would feel more comfortable and had a few more friends join the conversation. The girls didn’t really get what they wanted ’cause it wasn’t really the kind of bar you go to salsa dance. I was actually glad. We bounced from there, the girls bought a cheap bottle of wine and we headed back to the room…
My dad called. He calls pretty often these days. He wanted to see how everything was going and let me know that he’s sending money for me and my brother. I could hear music in the background and he was repeating everything I was saying so I could tell there was someone else in the room. It was my mom. After years of not talking, they recently started talking again and they both seem happier. I’m happy for them and whatever they decided as far as wanting them getting together… to me is like whatever. They will always be my parents and that’s what’s important. Like I said, whatever makes them happy.
When I was growing up there were times I wanted my parents to get a divorce. It would have made things a lot easier for me. I would have only had to deal with one instead of two every time I did something wrong. Sometimes I would get separate punishments from them. How is that fair?
I talked to my mom and she sounds good. I don’t talk to her as often as I do with my dad. If they don’t call, I don’t talk. I don’t know why, but I feel responsible for every woman in my life. Like I got to take care of them. As time keeps moving, I’m also starting to feel more responsible for my dad; and my brother now that he’s here living with me. I try to advise him without sounding bossy and I give him all the freedom he deserves. I just don’t want him to have to go through some of the bullshit I’ve had to go through the almost six years that I’ve been here in the U.S.
I like what Will says starting on 4:43 when Charlie asked Will how he decided to do the roll of Muhammad Ali. Will says he had doubts at first because he couldn’t see the road from doing the T.V. show “Fresh Prince of Belair” to becoming a legendary and world renowned boxing champion on the big screen. That was until he was given the blueprint, or the step-by-step guide to how he was going to reach that goal.
Having a plan is very important. To me, there’s nothing great about going from point A to point B if you can’t do it again and again. If that happens, it means there’s a great amount of luck involved, and how many times can one person get lucky?
I’ve been thinking about the “wall” metaphor Will uses to answer the question on 22:25. He says his parents thought him not to build a wall, but instead to concentrate on laying out one brick at a time the best way possible. Soon enough there will be a wall. I learned about concentrating on the small picture a while ago, but I still think it’s important to know where I’m going. I like to dream first and then lay the first brick. I feel that without well-thought goals there might be a problem later on in terms of self-motivation. Suddenly we lose interest in something or we just stop because we don’t know how far we actually want to go. My problem, as I see it right now, is getting into the habit of following my plan without interruptions. I’m always working, but I’m always dreaming too. It’s hard for me to continue working on something all the way to the end because I get excited about new ideas and I can’t wait to start working on those too.
Right now, for example, I’m reading the scriptures of John from The Bible, Malcolm X, Pablo Neruda Poems, I’m working on the design of antoniobullen.com, I write poetry and music, I am trying to market geecho.com and I write about all these things. I want to do every single one of them and I also have the responsibility of going to my classes and soon I will be working again. I do spend most of my days on my music so that’s a good thing.
To me dreaming is important because that’s how I have set the standards to be not just number one, but also the first to do something never done before.
Will says something really good around 30:04 when he says that he hates the feeling of fearing something. The fear to pitch an idea or meeting with someone for the first time; and that he didn’t want to even take that meeting because of that fear. So he developed an attitude of attacking things that he was scared of. I admire him for that and I wish I had that at my age. I realize that’s a problem in my life and I’m working on it. In my case I feel like I will only attack things when there is no other route to take. In Spanish there is a phrase: “entre la espada y la pared,” it translates to “between the sword and the wall,” and that’s when I usually start pushing back.
What I like: her skin, her eyes, her hair. She and her friends have the word “bootylicious” in the dictionary, which I think she represents very well. I like her southern accent and the way she dresses and carries herself. She also seems to have good parents, the kind you can easily get along with and learn something new. I like her smile a lot, although sometimes it looks forced, as if somebody had always whispered in her ears: “you got to smile when you’re in public.” I like that she does more than just music. She’s got the clothing company, perfume, did her own cell phone and I imagine she’s got other things too. Oh yes, she knows how to keep her personal life away from the media.
What I don’t like: it seems she can easily put some extra weight on her legs. They don’t stay toned and skinny. I think she’s not one of those women who stays thin no matter what, and most women don’t so it’s OK. I heard she just got married to Jay-Z after six years of dating… I thought I would meet her before she would do that, but if she’s happy then good. Six years dating someone is a long time. It’s a little worrying that the relationship started when she was about 20, that doesn’t leave space for dating some more and getting to discover herself. You could have had me Beyoncé… Oh well.
I only hope that she’s doing what she wants to do. I’m happy to see her succeed, but I get the feeling that she does things to satisfy others and I hope I’m wrong. She seems a good woman, in and out, and deserves good people to be around her.
I liked this cartoon when I was a kid. I never understood why he had a laser coming out of his ass, but I dreamed about having powers like his. I wasn’t one of those kids that would try to cut himself, but I wanted to know if I was really a robot on the inside so I would press hard on my skin to try to feel wires. I used to think that I was special like that. At night my parents would come into my room and reprogram me, make me a little bigger, and eventually with time they would give me my super powers. Ha!
I just finished reading the first chapter of the Autobiography of Malcolm X. After watching Lupe Fiasco talk about Malcolm X and Martin Luther King, I decided that it was important for me to know more about Black history in America.
I can see how Malcolm X became the man that he did. With so many of his family members dying on the hands of white men by the cause of race, I think most people would feel the same way but few might be able to express it. In understanding Malcolm’s past I’m also coming to understand a little better why I am the way I am today: my mother’s constant criticism and complaining, both of my parents strict ruling which sometimes turned physical and let no room for independent actions. There really is no wondering.
Malcolm X wrote he was proud he never raised his hand to his mom. I have to admit I did once, but my father was there to keep that hand from touching her and I’m greatful for that. I had to hear my mom say things about me that weren’t true all the time. She would make up stories in her mind about how I was stealing money from her, that I was good for nothing, call me a “piece of shit”, plant shit on my dad’s ear so he would get angrier at me than what he usually was and when things got physical between my dad and I, my mom was right behind my dad cheering for him because I “needed to be thought a lesson.”
I’m not saying I was an angel, but I didn’t deserve what I got. Nobody does. I grew up without affection, hugs and kisses. When I came to live in the U.S. and spent more time around other families and saw how sisters, brothers and parents hugged and told each other how much they loved them I was puzzled. I couldn’t understand why they were doing it, especially so often. My mother had never told me that she loved me except once and she did it on a piece of paper written in French - “Je T’aime” - and I could count with one hand the number of times I made physical contact with my parents any given year, and I’m talking the touch of a hand or something not hugs or anything deep.
I am a much better person today. I know how to talk to people and be social, even though I do it in an academic sort of way. I know when to smile, when to listen, what to say and what not to only because I think about it while I’m doing it and I know what it usually instigates on the other person, not because it comes natural. I can look at people face to face and I have no problems hugging or being close to someone else. And after taking so much shit talking from my mom I’ve developed a barrier against words. They don’t move me, but I’m learning that this could be as bad as it is good. People tend to abuse, let themselves go and try to step over if I don’t say something back on time. I refuse to let anyone call me a “nappy headed FSR (Financial Services Representative)” and do nothing. I will not turn the other cheek nor will I act out of anger.
Acting out of constant anger is where I think Malcolm X went wrong. I think it keeps us sometimes from making smart decisions. But I will continue reading the book before I make final statements. All I know is that I don’t want to be a part of a circle of constant battles. I will step in it if I have to though just to get shit straight, but I want to be able to concentrate on myself. So don’t push and everything will be OK. Show love.
New York Times Book Review, Robert Boone: It behooves us to read, and even reread Malcolm's book, and especially the last five chapaters, which describe the transformation that took place in his mind and heart after his break with Elijah Muhammad and the Black Muslims.
When I was 22 years old, about a year after I immigrated to the U.S., I was living with Tracy in a two bedroom apartment in La Quinta and everything was going pretty well.
One night, we got a call around 1:00 a.m., Tracy answered the phone and she quickly went from being annoyed to a complete panic. “Please don’t take them, we’ll be right there” is all I heard. As soon as she hung up the phone she asked me to get dressed and drive her to her sister’s house because she was in no condition to drive. At the moment I didn’t know what it was, but I knew it was important to her so I got up, got dressed and drove her to her sister’s house. She explained to me while we were in the car.
Apparently, as the police explained it to Tracy, her sister, Jessica, had tried to commit suicide and was being rushed into the hospital. They called Tracy because Jessica has two sons and they needed to leave them in custody of a family member or they would go to a foster house.
I remember later that morning, maybe around 3:00 a.m., a government employee came over to our apartment to check on the boys and interview me and Tracy. In the afternoon I had to go to some government agency, have my fingerprints scanned and sign papers saying I was legally responsible for the well-being of the boys.
I never really stopped to think about how quickly my life had changed. About a year and a half ago I was in Panama living under my parents roof and had no responsibilities. Move forward to a year and a half later and now I had a job and bills to pay, I was living in my own place, with a woman, an 8 year old and a 10 year old. It wasn’t so much about me anymore. The decisions that I made could potentially affect three other people. And that’s important to remember when others depend on you.
It was decided by the court that Jessica was not stable enough at that time to take care of her sons, so the boys went on to live with me and Tracy for the next six months. Those six months brought me closer to the reality that many of us here in this world live on a daily basis. How hard it is to be a parent and to find the balance in everything that needs to be done.
The older I get and the more experience I get. I understand how important it is to feel loved rather than be loved and also to have at least one other person you can love the same way.
I’ve said many times before that I didn’t feel loved for a very long time. I didn’t start learning how to express my feelings, be social, be able to give hugs or used the words “I love you” until I was about 21 years old.
I was seriously lacking in the area of communication and expression of feelings. Being defensive and acting with constant aggression is where I was comfortable. It just has to do with the way I grew up. My parents are not bad people, but they’re not gifted in the area of socializing or being affectionate either.
Becoming an independent young man and separating my self from the rest of the family at an early age was to me a very good thing. Thanks to my first girlfriend, Tracy, I started learning how to communicate. And yes, it was very uncomfortable for a very long time. I still remember the stupid fights we used to get into because I could not communicate effectively. I would hold all my anger inside and let it out in just one single emotional blow, with so many mean things to say that by the time I was over, she was crying herself insatiably, not knowing where to turn and wishing she was dead. And then I was happy. Happy because she was suffering the way I had suffered all my life, when, as a little boy, I cried myself to sleep listening to songs like “Hero” from Mariah Carey’s CD. Wishing a hero would come and rescue me. Tell me I was adopted or something of that sort and I was going home now. And I no longer had to hear the constant verbal abuse from my mom, or put up with my dad’s “power trips”. I’ll have more to say about that later on, right now I just want to tell Tracy and every other person I hurt with my attitude and struggles at the time that I am sorry. And I know some of you have already forgiven me.
Such an unusual town. Everything looks like from another century, which it is. What a dumb remark… Some of the shops are modern looking though.
Got to say something about the girl at the reception, she is the most beautiful girl I have seen in a very long time, and I can be picky. I think she is the daughter of the woman that attended to us yesterday. But I wonder if the fact that her parents are in business and she is too makes her more attractive.
Beautiful eyes and smile, I hope I can at least take a picture with me, but if I can get a kiss I will be in heaven. And if she likes me I may lose control of my feelings. I just know it.
I should do something interesting today, maybe go to this battlefield close to Brugge and take some pictures.
Back to the girl… she is really nice. She has working hands, which I like on her. I hope she is just as nice if I get a chance to talk to her and that I just haven’t made this all up in my head. It would be a shame if her soul is not in tune with her body, such a beautiful one.
I’ve decided to write on this journal only when I’m traveling. I’m not doing that right now, but I am living outside my parents house so in some way I am traveling or at least having a different experience.
Is it possible for me to stay faithful to Tracy? I don’t really think so. I’ve already seen a lot of women that I would like to have sex with although that hasn’t happened. There’s one girl called Irene that I really wanted to have sex with, but that’s not going to happen. She’s not very pretty and she talks a lot of shit, but she’s different. Yeah, I think sex with her would have been a different experience.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Sometimes I’m so happy and life seems to be a great thing and then I get all sad, or even if I’m not I just don’t want to talk to anybody.
How do you erase something from your memory? Something you wanted to know, but you don’t want to remember?
So I have crossed the border between Panama and Costa Rica and I’m in Santiago, just 5 hours away from home. There’s a Colombian guy and a girl from Germany that are also in this bus, which I met in the border. Both of them had problems crossing at the border, but they made it.
The Colombian guy had to pay $100 under the table to cross the border. The girl, Julica, had problems at customs and also getting her stamp because the officers at the border thought she wasn’t financially capable. I would say $90 is more than enough for a day in Panama.
I helped Julica and George get a hotel when we arrived at Panama, and I met a taxi driver named Edward who didn’t take advantage of the situation. They’re staying at the Hotel Central, and later on today I’m supposed to meet with her to change her colones for American dollars.
I want to ask my parents if Julica can stay with us for a night. I feel bad for her because this is the first time she comes to Panama and so far I don’t think she has had a good impression of it.
