Love Letter

When I kissed your cheek I had hoped the love I still have for you was understood. I don't claim to know what you are going through and I hope I never have to. If nothing else I would hope this experience can be a defining point for you. I had never seen you look so weak before. When I was in high-school I thought you could do anything. You told me you loved me, I don't think you understood what that meant. You had me convinced though. I don't blame you for not understanding the bonds of family. I do not expect someone who's family dissolved to understand what family does for each other. I was hoping you would try, now I see things will never be the same. The rules have changed, I hope you have as well. If you come out of this experience the same person, I will not give up on you, but I will prepare myself for the worst case scenario. I will always keep the picture of me sitting on your lap, no more than three years old, and you, probably 12, reading me a Sesame Street picture book before bed. You will always be that portrait of love to me, because I know it is still inside of you.

Titles

Description Prescription
Art for the Colorblind
This is not Shakespeare

Ideas continued

Ideas for collective works

Roots

With an ancestry dating back as far as the Aztec King, Montezuma, it is hard for him to take life for granted. A nationality split down the middle. A true son of the Southwest is born and raised in the Southwest; therefore one could label him a true son of the Southwest. He has never known anyone who would apply such a name to him. His paternal lineage traces back to the heart of Mexico. His maternal lineage bears no resemblance to his fathers, hailing from the Netherlands. Although both his mother and father are in America because of immigration, only the immigrants on his father’s side are looked down upon. The racial slur "wetback" comes from people like paternal great great grandparents. His ancestors crossing the Rio Grande is a driving catalyst behind his existence.

Hard work is in his blood. Nothing has ever started out easy, from the day his great great grandfather began picking Sunkist oranges in the hot Mexican groves. With hard work and diligence over long periods of time, actions and reactions fall into place. Throughout his ancestry and even for himself, honesty and real contribution to society is not immediately reciprocated. It may take years if not decades for karma to manifest itself.

Even the best fiction writer could not have created the cast that is his family. A lawyer, a nurse, a few full blown alcoholics, a gay therapist, a gay opera singer and even an old man once investigated by the F.B.I for selling a jet to a drug dealer. These people make up the eccentric cast of his family. Everyone is hoping he turns out somewhat normal.

My Bloody Valentine

"Abre los ojos, Roberto. Abre los ojos, mi amor."

"Good morning Raquel, how was your slumber?"

"How was my what? I have not heard you use that word in reference to sleep before, what has come over you?"

"I can't quite put my finger on it, I do feel different. It may have something to do with all the History channel I have been watching. They use words I have never heard before."

"Everytime I see you watching that damn television, you look as if you are anticipating something. What is it?"

"Now don't take this the wrong way, ok? Every night after I finish watching a war documentary on the History channel I change it to the Food channel and watch Giada DeLorentes cook afabulous Italian meal. To me she is everything a woman should be. Do not worry though, you are the only other woman I feel that way about."

"Do you at least take notes? I would like to see you put your new found love for cooking to use, one of these days."

"I would love to, really I would. The only problem is I am usually listening to Journey with the T.V. on mute. I never really know what she is saying, it is great."

"Oh really? Is that what this is about? Would you like to put me on mute? Is what I have to say not important enough for you?"

"You sure do ask a lot of questions. I can see why you would be upset, but it is much to early  though."

"We aren't even married yet and you already bored of me!"

"Married? Who said anything about married? I know I just accused you of asking to many questions, but I promise you these questions are warranted. I never said anything about marriage."

"Then what is all of this? Some kind of sick joke, or am a just a convinient way for you to pass time when you are not at work?"

"Yea about that, I have been meaning to talk to you. I don't technically have a job. That isn't to say I don't make money, you know from my trust fund account."

"Are you telling me you are a liar and a bum? I don't even know this man in front of me."

"You do know you are not required to stay here. In MY house, that I pay the bills for. Well Technically the trust fund pays for, but that is besides the point. Anyhow the door is wide open."

"No, no, no I am sorry I overreacted. I love it here with you. And besides you have a trust fund. That changes everything!"

Writing About Place

Squeaky plastic chairs are all the same, they annoy me and make my ass hurt. I guess sitting in one of those chairs at 2:15 in the morning does not help. At least that is what the mounted atomic clock on the wall reads. Out of my peripheral I notice that the employee working the register is fast asleep with his head hanging off the back of his office chair. The main waiting area carries hints of an old fast food restaurant, a box of curly fries a deep-fried corn dog. Yes this place was a fast food joint at least once, if not multiple times.

Just as my eyes begin to feel heavy, a sudden jingle of the bell attached to the door startles me. A woman wearing a Wendy's uniform pushes a stroller with a sleeping baby through the door. The sleeping employee immediately opens his eyes and jumps to attention. Now that he is standing I can see that his name tag reads, "Hi I am Maxamilion! I am here to assist you." The woman finally pushes the cumbersome stroller through the door and approaches the window of bulletproof glass separating her from Maxamilion.

Right on que Maxamilion spouts his rehearsed introductory speech, he does it all with a contrived grin on his face. As Max enjoys the sound of his own voice the woman fumbles through her knock off brand purse and hands her I.D. under the bulletproof glass.

The woman feebly asks,"I need an advance up to until March 9th."

Her raw unedited emotion, her shame in even walking into a Cash Advance spawns a desire to help fix her life within me. Either that or give her old Max's biweekly paycheck.

I responded to..

Christine Lee's letter. One of the best qualities about the letter is the honesty behind it all. It demonstrates how much easier it is to be honest through writing then it is through speech, well at least for me. Anyways the url is http://moosiescafe.blogspot.com/.

Rat Kiley Underneath a Lemon Tree

I have not had a solid sleep cycle in over 15 days, I am exhausted. Whenever I start dreaming I wake up almost instantaneously in a cold sweat and short of breath. Every time my dream starts out the same way. I am sitting underneath a lemon tree when it starts to bleed then I wake up.

It was 15 days ago when old Curt Lemon stepped on a booby trapped 105 round and became one with a nearby tree. Ever since that day I cannot get the image of him exploding out of my head, and I have a feeling I will not be able to for a long time. Before I witnessed the death of a friend first hand, war had not affected me in the least bit. For Lemon and I war was a game, it was a competition between us. Volunteering for a shit job like night patrol was all part of the rush. Even taking a step and not knowing whether or not our foot would still be attached the next second provided a thrill. The only problem was that neither of us expected to ever actually experience the horror of war, let alone find out that there is such a thing as horror in war.

Now Lemon is dead and I am trying to keep myself from dying in a Vietnamese rice paddy shit hole. Two things fill my mind these days, one dismembered limbs hanging from a lemon tree, two going up to some gook with a bayonet and showing him the true meaning of pain. As we set up camp for the evening I wonder to myself how much pain I will have to inflict on those gooks and their native animals before my pain goes away. Unfortunately there is no guide to these kind of things. I am just going to have to bottle up my emotions until I get the chance to release my anger on another living being.

I have heard that it is mentally unhealthy to bottle up emotions. The only problem with that is the last time I tried to tell someone my emotions the fucking cooze never wrote me back. I will not waste anymore time on words that will not be heard, instead I will do what comes naturally and bottle it until I can hold someone responsible and exact my revenge. I know now that I will never get my innocence back. I was a fool to think that even after war I would still be a playful Rat Kiley.

Being brought up in a conservative Christian home I was always told that when you start being sexually immoral is when you loose your innocence. I say that is a bunch of bullshit. Before being shipped out I did my fair share of horsing around with beautiful women. Whether we were fooling around in the back of a taxi cab or on my rickety old twin bed, I always came out of the encounter feeling rejuvenated and enlightened. Now watching a man explode, that will take away your innocence and deprive you of sleep for years.

What is my Name?

SELF-CHARACTERAZATION

He sits at his desk surrounded by people he does not recognize. He probably doesn’t recognize them because he hasn’t seen any of them before. They do not recognize him, not today at least. Soon those surrounding him will recognize his facial features. This does not make him feel intimidated, it only presents more opportunities for him to spawn companionship. He notices that social evolution takes place on both a micro and macro level. If he were placed in a room full of people close to him his actions would reflect his surroundings. This is not the circumstance though; in this case his actions reflect those of a dog in a brand new house. Like the dog he is eager to become comfortable in the new house.
He thinks to himself, “My friends call me T.J. but should I tell them to call me Thomas? When she calls role should I tell her to call me T.J.?” The thought of being called by a different name almost seems like a fresh start. Once those surrounding him begin calling him by Thomas, his legal name, the name T.J. goes out the window along with his past and everything in it. He has nothing to be afraid of, for some reason it seems that becoming someone else could be fun. Then reality sets in and he realizes no one is defined by his or her name, well no one except for Adolf Hitler. The name Adolf Hitler carries connotations with it that most people are aware of. Had Hilter been a middle class male his name would be just another name.
Now it seems that no one will notice if he starts going by a different name because they never knew him in the first place. The fact that no one here knew him previously makes him nostalgic, but at the same time he feels that good impressions are important. Nostalgic or not he cannot go back to a different place because he is constantly living in the present. For T.J. or Thomas, whichever the reader prefers, the present consists of a hot crowded classroom with new carpet. Then while he notices the new carpet his nostalgia comes back. This is not uncommon for him; every once in a while he will see or smell something and immediately begin to feel nostalgic. It is probably a weakness; living in the past can overcome someone.
Then all at once he snaps back into reality and forgets about the smell of new carpet. He decides that it does not matter what people call him just so long as he gives good connotations to whichever name he adopts. Besides isn’t Thomas a name used in the world of professionals and young graduates? Rhetorical questions do not require an answer. He thinks to himself, “Maybe it would be better to become Thomas when I am a young professional of some kind of graduate. Since my life isn’t over yet and has not necessarily begun yet I will stay content with T.J. and nostalgia.”

Letter to my Friends

Hey Friends,           

 

            I am T.J. or Thomas. I know in my self-characterization I voiced my internal battle of whether i should go by Thomas or T.J., I will just leave it up to everyone though. Call me whatever you feel is fitting, hell make up a nickname. I was born in the valley. For those of you who do not know what "the valley" is referring to, it is Phoenix. I generally hate Phoenix by the way. It’s like a big city that tries to hard. Chicago, New York and L.A. are like the original big cities and then Phoenix. Phoenix was like, "Hey I should be a big city too, except with less to do and way hot, I'm talkin 120 degrees during the summer." That’s how Phoenix became a city. 

           Now that you know my stance on Phoenix I will tell you some more things about myself. I am officially a half Mexican. I am a mutt. My mother is Anglo, Caucasian, Dutch and all of the above. My dad is full Mexican. It is kind of funny watching a white woman and Mexican male argue about their ideals. I won't go into details but it’s interesting, I'll leave it at that.

 I still live in my parent’s house here in Tucson. Sometimes I get brave and talk about moving out; I even get friends involved every once in a while. Once I get over my bravery I remember that I get free meals and don't pay rent. Ya moving out right now would be stupid. If anyone wants to come live with me though that’s fine, you would have to pay me rent. 

I have a dog, and her name is Amber. Some people give me shit about naming a dog a human name. I'll name my dog what I feel is appropriate. I stole the dog from Rocky Point, Mexico. I found her on the beach while I stayed there one weekend. I remember when I decided I needed to take her back with me. One of my buddies and I decided to walk down the beach to this bar and check it out. All of a sudden this dog comes out of nowhere and starts following us. Her coat is a shiny amber color with eyes to match. Anyways she follows us all the way down the beach until we get to the bar. She tried to follow us inside the bar but I made her stay out side. We went inside, grabbed a couple drinks and went back outside. At first I had assumed she had gone back to wherever she came from. As we stepped outside she ran up to us and looked me in the eyes. If she could talk in that moment she would have said, "What up guys? How was it in there? You get your buzz on? Lets go for a walk on the beach!" That was the moment I knew I would take her back with me.  

I started reading a book recently by a monk named Thomas Merton. The book is a collection of passages from his personal diary. I have to say for a monk, that dude is awesome. He writes spontaneously, some passages are purely recalling old memories others are his observations and the questions spawned by his observations. Once I started reading that book I went out and bought myself a journal and started writing about everyday things asking questions and just free writing. I bought a pack of three little journals, labeling the first one I started writing in "Part 1". I secretly hope I become important for some reason and after I die somebody stumbles upon my amateur  journals and decides to publish them. Then some kid in the future will say, "I bought this book today, its a collection of personal journal entries for T.J. or Thomas Aguilera. You know, the famous monk or movie star or charity supporter?" That is not going to happen, but imagine if it did. 

Thanks for reading my letter. I hope it didn't bore you too hard. I look forward to reading your letter as well. 

T.J. or Thomas 

List for Living

This is my first blog, ever. It is an exciting time in my life. I'm sure anyone else blogging for the first time feels similar. Anyways this is my list of 20 words to live by. I hope everyone enjoys my carefully picked answers. 

1. Nostalgia-A sentimental or wistful affection for the past typically for a period or place with happy personal association 

2. Propinquity-The state of being close to somebody or something: proximity 

3. Glabrous-Free from hair or down, smooth

4. Hypochondria-Abnormal anxiety about ones health.

5. Inerrant-Incapable of being wrong.

6. Cantankerous-Bad tempered, argumentative and uncooperative.

7. Utopia-An imagined place or state of things in which everything is perfect.

8. Soliloquy-An act of speaking ones thoughts aloud when by oneself or regardless of any hearers. 

9. Facetious-Treating serious issues with deliberately inappropriate humor; flippant.

10. Archaic-Very old or old fashioned.

11. Carny-A person who works in a carnival or amusement show.

12. Altruism-The belief in or practice of disinterested and selfless concern for the well being of others.

13. Coalesce-Come together and form one mass or whole.

14. Paradigm-A typical example or pattern of something; a model.

15. Ethereal-Extremely delicate and light in a way that seems to perfect for this world. 

16. Chrysalis-A quiescent insect pupa.

17. Catharsis-The process of releasing, and thereby providing relief from, strong or repressed emotions.

18. Inkling-A slight knowledge or suspicion; a hint.

19. Crepuscular-Of, resembling, or relating to twilight.

20. Clandestine-Kept secret or done secretively.

Thats it! And it actually took me way longer than I thought it would.