Echo

snoopy come home

one of my most vivid childhood memories, turns out to be one of my parents most vivid memories of me.

when i was three, i watched snoopy come home and it absolutely destroyed me. i was so sad about snoopy running away that i cried and cried, not like little kid crying but weeping inconsolably as my parents say. i couldn’t sleep. they stayed up with me, offered me my toys, food, anything, to try to get me to sleep but i couldn’t. i was in complete despair. i remember it being really late at night and my parents were exhausted, having to work the next day, but i wouldn’t go back to bed. i was playing listlessly with this red barn i had with doors that opened and closed as my parents sat next to me, asking me what was wrong but i didn’t have the words to explain it. i just kept saying snoopy ran away, which would bring a fresh wave of tears. but my heart was broken. i had never experienced anything like it. that sadness, at such an early age, felt like the end of the world–a pain that could potentially never end, losing someone i would never see again.

i’ve always thought that these 5 year old kids who can play musical instruments like the reincarnation of masters are proof of past lives. that they brought that knowledge in from another lifetime. i wonder if i lost someone in a past life and that’s been my driving current. maybe i let someone down. maybe i didn’t fulfill a promise. maybe i feel like i can’t rest until i bring this person i lost home, even though i don’t know if i can right this wrong in this lifetime, in this world, or even if it matters. but it’s so persistent. as persistent and powerful as time.

today i watched the last episode of last season’s grey’s anatomy. people know how i feel about tr knight, and everything that happened with that set. i also thought giving him the storyline of cheating on his wife with his best friend was contrived and not consistent with the moral fiber of his character. i feel the creator of the show really let him down, both within the world of her creation, and professionally. i do think he grew a lot as an actor on that show, playing george o’malley, and that character became so rich and powerful. it points to a simultaneous development of the actor. he had so much soul. he stood for something powerful and good. he was a great model of integrity to have in a medium that reaches such a wide mass. but there have been issues on that set and understandably, tr decided to opt out of his contract and left the show at the end of last season. i have so much respect for him as a person for doing it. but the sad thing was that meant the end of the character.

the whole season he’d been mostly in the background with no storylines, which had been irritating. i watch the show for his character’s development. but in the end, he decides to join the army to become a doctor in iraq, but before he goes, he gets hit by a bus after saving a woman. he’s so mangled no one in the er recognizes him, until he’s able to write 007, his nickname, in meredith’s palm (sounds kind of contrived when i’m paraphrasing, i know, but it’s actually well done). i really appreciate how they let the character depart with dignity–it was consistent with his character. so much heart. but i’m really sad. it’s just like snoopy come home. i’m heartbroken. i can’t sleep because i’m really sad that this beautiful character will no longer evolve and shine in the world, showing such a remarkable example of a beautiful, noble human being.

maybe you have to be a writer to understand how painful the end of a beautiful character is. or maybe you just have to be someone who’s touched by any example of a person with strong integrity of character.

i hope tr does amazing things in this world. i have a feeling, whether publically or privately, he strives to be his best and affects those around him. he has a high level of personal integrity. he’s one of the people i believe in. i always say of all the “celebrities” i’ve met, he’s far and away my favorite. but it goes beyond that. of all the “people” i’ve met, he’s someone i really care about and respect. i have a feeling the meeting would have had the same impact on me even if we had met randomly, as two ordinary strangers knowing nothing of each other. i would have actually preferred that. i would have liked to have talked more about life.

he’s one of the good ones. and so was his character, george. they did an amazing job together. broke my heart, but i give him the deepest respect.

Okay. the Happier exercises i’ve been putting off. turning them in on the last day.

Sentence stems then answers.

Being in love means…finding the one. finding my home. being a safe haven for the one i love. finding someone that i would do anything for, not out of obligation which is how a lot of people get me to do things, but because i truly want to, great or small. i want to know everything about this person, i want to know every high, every low, every scratch, every trauma. every rivalry, every achievement, every love. i want to feel the breadth of life through their fingers, understand their path and how they got to become the person i know. i want them to tell me, because they are so positive of their love for me and feel it so tangibly, that all of these things are just the inevitable stories that brought us together. by sheer will i want to wash away corners of their darkness and give them a safe place to truly rest and feel at peace. it means i can finally feel at home being consistently the person i am knowing that it is safe and brings happiness to the only person who sees me. it means wanting to know everything, every feeling, every thought, every sensation, by way of knowing and the peace it comes with. being in love means knowing someone deeply and being known deeply and the bond being real. it means me having the freedom to expand and show who i really am, and being not just accepted, but loved for it. it means looking at my partner and knowing he is as much a part of my life and my destiny, that he’s as familiar to me as my own body. it means trust, that i will fight to the death anyone who dares to threaten you, and should i ever be blindsided, you always fight for me. it means knowing for sure, because there can only be one, and everyone else was someone who helped to prepare me to recognize the one. it means knowing that you have come from where i’ve come and are going where i am going. it means i finally give up my secrets, though they weren’t so much secrets as things i couldn’t seem to get people to understand. being in love for me, means i finally got something that i really wanted because it’s actually mine.

to be a better friend…i could clear up my issues and obsessions so i have more time and attention to keep up with their lifes and their welfare. i always felt that if there is a good connection with someone, no matter how much time passes, they will always be there. i know sometimes i can fall out of touch for years, a decade. some of it has to do with my feelings about my life and my environment at any given time, so if i didn’t like the stage i was at, i tended to feel like people either didn’t notice me or didn’t like me either. mostly, sometimes i just get so obsessed with the meaning that i’m searching for, the expression that i’m looking for that it’s hard for me to keep up with too many people. i always appreciate it when people get in touch with me and i always try to respond thoughtfully. i truly feel though if i could sort out my own mess and get more focused, that in itself will make me a better friend because i’ll have more time, attention, energy and perspective.

to be a better partner…i would be more patient and not get frustrated so quickly. i will take more space to formulate what i’m saying, or not kick someone in the nuts figuratively just because they’re being stupid in any given moment. see more of the positive and not focus on the things that need to be worked on. allow people to say what they want to say and finish, even if i disagree. not make threats to leave. not make promises i’m afraid to keep. broach difficult topics with more tact, consideration, compassion and patience. ask more questions. stop demanding things from someone who can’t or doesn’t want to give it. it doesn’t make me or the other person feel better.

to bring 5 percent more happiness to my romantic relationship…i would argue less. when i get irritated, to bring it up in a lighter way rather than aggressively. be more patient and don’t punish even if i have a right to be angry. make him feel like he has enough space to be human.

to bring 5 percent more happiness to my friendships…i would pick up the damn phone more often and actually call people.

to bring love to my life…i could not expect so much in such an idealized form, so that i could be happy with what i have.

i am becoming aware…that it comes down to two theories: you have to work at all relationships no matter what so even if a relationship seems to be clashing, you have to work through it; or, if you find the right relationship, even though there will inevitably be disagreements, overall, the two people are able to work well together cooperatively as equals. i feel the 2nd. i really, really want that.

if i take more responsibility for fulfilling my desires…i would follow my intuition and get back on track. i would stop trying to make the most out of what little i have, and go seek out the place where the resources are abundant. i would not be afraid to ask life for more, for what i deserve, and do whatever it takes for me to achieve it.

if i let go and allow myself to experience what love feels like…it feels like heaven and hell. the deciding factor is if you want it. if this particular brand of heaven and hell is the one that you suits you the best.

i’ve realized that this is me:

my mind is the strongest
but my heart is the most developed
and my ego is that little brother that wants to fight everyone and needs to gain maturity.

i think right now i am learning how to discipline my ego, to be a bigger person, to take the high road, and to put my ego aside, even when it’s wounded, and try to reach out and communicate.

no matter what other people do, at least you know that you were a big person, and that a wounded ego never killed anyone.

okay. from the beginning.

i liked to wear red shoes. i didn’t like to wear clothes. things were usually really confusing to me. they weren’t home a lot so i didn’t have anyone to talk to. we had a lot of babysitters. some of them were just children themselves, because i would watch them fumble around with their responsibilities. the night my brother was born my dad’s cousin watched me. he wouldn’t tell me what was going on. i was gentle with michael. i didn’t understand him though and sometimes I would be aggressive, like bite him or put toys in his diaper. i could always get out of trouble. my mom didn’t have the attention span to dole out discipline convincingly. she only grounded me once in my life, and it was for something really, really stupid, because she thought that’s what parents are supposed to do (she said it like, “well I guess what other parents would do is ground you…”), but i blatantly went out the next day because I knew she’d forgotten. My dad was strict. He was like military. He was a drill sargeant. He kept you in check. I told him once that I wanted to play basketball. So he dragged me out to an outdoor court at 6am and made me do layup drills, screaming at me the whole time. I decided that I never wanted to play basketball because I’m a big pussy who’s too sensitive. My dad is a very very angry man. I remember that anger. It’s rage with a hair-trigger. I spilled milk on the couch once (I mean, it was literally over spilled milk) and he flew into a rage that went from the couch to me cleaning my room. He threw objects at me, including a binder that hit me in the leg and really hurt. I ended up getting really angry about it so I waited until he went off to bed and then I started crying until I hyperventilated and I freaked my mom out. I pretended to have body spasms so they took me to the hospital. I didn’t say a word but I think the doctor knew something was wrong. Because later, my mom whispered to me that the doctor told my dad that he had emotional problems. sometimes i would throw michael under the bus when my dad was angry, because even though michael was so vulnerable, he would still take things out on him. but the thing was, michael never let anyone attack me. If my dad would dare hit me in his presence, little autistic michael would jump in the way and scream, “NOOOOOOO.” he wouldn’t let anyone touch me. he would yell at my parents to stop yelling at his sister. but i never stood up for him because i was a coward.

ah, fuck. at what point can I make up for my cowardice in life? how much good can I do to erase the fact that I am a coward? what if all this strength I supposedly have gained is just something that crumbles into dust in the face of a real challenge? who am I really, if I built this image of myself on the foundation of “I am not a coward,” when I know deep down, I’m building my entire personality on a lie? What if it’s not a lie and I’m actually stronger than I want to admit, because I’ve spent so many years hurting myself out of guilt that I’m still not convinced that I deserve to feel good again. I wanted him to do the work when really I need to do the work myself. what’s so clear to others, you absolutely can not see. It’s the curse of irony. that twilight zone where the guy who loves to read and finds out that due to a natural disaster, he’s the last man on earth so he’s happy he can read all these books in peace…until he breaks his glasses. you spend your life begging for a mirror, because you can’t see yourself anymore and have no idea who you are. and that’s the thing. all you’ll really know of yourself, is reflection. but all that you can feel of yourself, is infinite.

i must be stronger than i realize, but i don’t know why i can’t see it. i’m so afraid of finding out i’m still a coward.

Why being shy is awful.

1. You have trouble looking people in the eye when they talk to you, and when you make an effort to maintain eye contact, you worry that they think you’re staring.
2. Your words don’t sound the same outside of your head as they did inside, and the more conscious you are that you’re stumbling, the more you stumble until you can’t remember what it was you were saying.
3. You have a desperate fear of awkward silences.
4. You assume everyone is looking at you.
5. You anxiously pray that your fly isn’t down every time someone walks by.
6. You suddenly have to concentrate on walking evenly whenever you notice someone staring at you.
6. You sometimes can’t listen to what people are saying in conversation because you are so anxious to get out of that conversation.
7. You get so excited about meeting people and wanting to know their life stories, but you’re too afraid to ask anything.
8. You never find out as much as you would like to know about people.

Stolen from M-squared and non-girlfriend:

My Uncle Once: Bet me $10 that he could beat me at H-O-R-S-E. Seeing as I was 9, I thought he would go easy on me but no, he kicked my ass. So he asked me if I wanted to play again and I said yes, thinking he would let me win this one so I could break even. But he kicked my ass again. He asked me if I wanted to go again for all or nothing and I said yes, thinking now he would let me win so that there wouldn’t be money on the table. But he kicked my ass again. He asked me if I wanted to play again and I said no. He said, you owe me $30. I told him, I don’t have $30, I’m 9. So he called my mom and told her that I lacked integrity.

Never in my life: Have I wanted to be president.

When I was five: My best friend Linus and I had a game called the Pants Down Game. We would jump up and down on my parents bed and flash each other. I moved away but 10 years later, he moved to my city and showed up at my high school. We talked to each other for the first time in 10 years and he asked me, “Remember the Pants Down Game?”

High School was: a little bitch. But to take some responsibility, if I were to do it again, I would do it a lot less angry and try to focus on the likeminded people who were accepting of me instead of stewing about the hypocrisy and hierarchy.

I will never forget: That meter maid who gave me a hug and comforted me instead of giving me a ticket on that day when I was very very sad.

I once met: a kid who talked just like Professor Frink from The Simpsons.

There’s this girl I know who: Used to give me money and ask me to run across the street to buy her a soda because she was afraid to cross the street.

Once, at a bar: I saw someone projectile vomit. It looked just like it did on that Garbage Pail Kids card.

By noon I’m usually: Nodding off.

Last night: I slept alone.

Next time I go to church I: will wake up, find myself naked and pray that this is just a nightmare because Julia P S__ does not set foot in a church.

Terry Schiavo: People made it a public battle over their own beliefs when it really should have been about you.

When I turn my head left, I see: A wall.

When I turn my head right, I see: a file cabinet. Thanks for reminding me that I’m trapped at work.

You know I’m lying when: I look like I’m on the verge of either laughing or crying.

What I miss most about the eighties: When all that it took to make me happy was going to 7-Eleven and picking up Jolly Ranchers, Now & Laters, Bonkers and Bubblicious, going home with a mountain of candy and having spent less than three bucks.

If I was a character written by Shakespeare, I’d be: Puck. Though whenever I hear that name, I always think of that disgusting guy with poor hygiene on Real World: San Francisco.

By this time next year: I want to be shooting my movie!

A better name for me would be: golden-palace-dot-com

I have a hard time understanding: Anything spoken. I need subtitles for everything.

If I ever go back to school I’ll: go to frat parties and be that old person standing by the keg flirting with people way too young for me, and whose inappropriate presence creeps the kids out. Except for the kids with low self-esteem because those I’ll bag.

You know I like you if: I lick your eye. It’s an ancient Chinese custom.

If I won an award, the first person I’d thank would be: No one. I would use my time to make an ill-informed politically-driven rant until they cued the music and had Charlize Theron escort me off the stage.

Darwin, Mozart, Slim Pickens, and Geraldine Ferraro: Names men give their penises.

Take my advice, never: Get up in the middle of the night and pee with the cover down.

My ideal breakfast is: Pumpkin pancakes with cantaloupe juice, coffee and two eggs over easy at 11am because I pulled an Office Space and decided that I don’t like work so I’m just not going in anymore.

A love song I love, but do not have is: Ricky don’t lose that numba…

If you visit my hometown, I suggest: You prepare to see hicks.

Tulips, character flaws, microchips, and track stars: The circumstances surrounding my loss of virginity.

Why won’t anyone invent: Something that would allow women the convenience of peeing standing up?

If you spend the night at my house, don’t: be surprised to wake up to find me spooning you.

I’d stop my wedding for: a passing ice cream truck

The world could do without: assholes

I’d rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: lick a part of it that excretes.

My favorite blonde is: Denzel Washington

Paper clips are more useful than: nothing. I use paper clips to pick the locks on diaries.

If I do anything well, it’s: snoozing

The last time I was drunk, I: I’ve never been drunk. Only happy.

And, by the way: boys have penises and girls have vaginas.

Name: Julia

Are You Happy? If by happy you mean chain-smoking, Lil-Debbie addicted, grotesquely fat, incorrigibly white and aspiring to kick my 35 year-old unemployed son out of the trailer because it’s about time he got a job and stopped livin’ off his mama, then no, I’m not happy.