intro-blog

[intro-blog]

I've been curiously exposed to a few interactions with plots about movie writers. writers. screen writers. Is it a sign? I don't believe in coincidences. To me, everything happens for a reason. Like the script is being written every breath I take. As if the universe already thought of my life, me breathing and being alive is equivalent to the pen hitting the paper. The fingers click clacking away at a typewriter, keyboard, touch screen. Every minute, from the conscious decisions, to the uncontrollable factors... it's all meant to happen. From the glorious moments, to the painful lessons. From feeling euphoric to feeling my heart rip slowly in two.

Just as I'm writing this... Tony Soprano is talking about not having control over his son knowing he's a mob boss. Implying he was born into it. He gets asked by Dr.Melfi, "Genetic predispositions are only that, predispositions. It's not a destiny written in stone. People have choices. [...] You think that everything that happens is preordained? You don't think that human beings possess free will?" To which Tony asks why he isn't making pots in Peru. Not long ago I saw a video of an arrogant Christian preacher who preys on college students to make himself feel important. At least that's the feeling I get from those videos. A young man not intending to disrespect him told him, "You're only Christian because you were brought up here" This got Mr.Cliffe so upset. He lost his temper, and told the young man he was stupid to assume that. Uhm, so if Tony Soprano would've been born in Peru, would he have still had the opportunity to be raised surrounded by made-men? That's a bit of a stretch. Yes there were Irish, Jews, and even Blacks that were trusted as affiliates of the Mafia... but none actual members. Given that power that Tony seems to be having a problem with his own children seeing. Just like he saw with his father.

So now I ask myself. Was I really meant to live what I have lived? I think so. Do I have control of where I direct my life? To a certain degree I do. I can put in the effort to try to make something happen. Only my surroundings and the time added to that effort can determine if said things will happen. There is a supreme God who sees all. Who controls all. Who allows all to happen. There must be an entity overseeing it all. The poverty, the violence which is a byproduct of people trying to cut corners to get rich fast.

Wow. Yet another scene on a different show where a script/writers is mentioned. What is the universe trying to tell me? To write? To leave a story behind? Perhaps. Perhaps if I continue to write I will find my calling. My answer. My purpose. All the characters so far I've seen on these films are writers who do not end up being successful. Either kill themselves, or engage in risky behaviors. Yet everyone he speaks to when asking for advice is giving him the best suggestions possible.

Uncle Tony angrily tries to wonder what's wrong with Chris, his nephew. "Do you ever think about... You know... [puts a finger gun into to his mouth]" Chris replies, "FUCK NO" "Imagine those fucking losers blowing their brains all over the bathroom."

I have a feeling I should do what Tone Soprano is doing. (I had a bud from High School named Tone Snively, he was a former Jehovah's Witness that was derailing from his social life. Thought of him just now.) Tony Soprano has a thing with wanting to be accepted by his mother. Yet, the whole time she has everything against him. She won't accept him for who he is. And this breaks him. Every little thing she knows about him, she shares with his uncle and breaks his trust. My mother has been breaking my trust. She tells my uncle not only what I tell her. But also what I don't... what I do comes out of her mouth with ease. Tony stopped trusting his mother. I always confided in her. Little did I know that made me a weak man. My arc has flourished, I'm growing a magic bean and reaching to the sky. Climbing on my own is my calling.

I just found it. I found the calling that I was looking for. To be a man. To stop sucking on mom's emotional tit. To live my own life. To no longer confide in her like she raised you to. To grow your own veggies, to raise your own cows. To do things on your own. It's your turn. I just can't help it. Writing is saving me. Writing is helping me grow. I miss her so much. I decided to cut her off for little over the last forty days out of one whole year. I must not be weak. I must be a man. I will be a man. I am a man.

[intro-blog]

SCRAMBLE

"por fin lo entendi...

no hay que rogar y no hay que insistir,

porque El que ruega aburre, y El que insistir molesta, verdad?"

white men can't jump, taught me a lesson. it taught me many lessons...

"al fin, uno vuelve donde una vez fue feliz"

El Caballo, un perrro que no SABE lo grande que es... y que a la vez SABE lo que esta haciendo. El Caballo es Hermoso. majestoso, no tiene dedos... como siente? con la jeta lo hace. acaricia a su semejante. muerde, besa, sostiene. mete dientes. Los MISMO haria yo sin dedos. que feo se esta escribiendo en Este formato. El auto corrector me ESTA enfadando. mayusculas raras donde no pertenecen. me cambia las palabras. pero estoy muy laborado para que me imported. se me antojo un pan con leche la hora 22:48. Pero es solo antojo. en realidad no lo quiero. antojo. parecido a cumplir un antojo. yo quiero salir de Este ollo. ESO quiero. se me antojo una coca cola de vidrio. si no la tomo hoy, no hay pedo. si no salgo del ollo, sigo angustiado. sigo pensativo. hmmm, al Caballo se le antoja escaparse... pero en realidad lo que necesita es correr. ser trabajado... igual, El mustang ni salvaje, ni libre puede ser. sobrepopularon El Norte de Nevada y han sido capturados. por $25 puedes tener tu mustang rescatado... ESTA mejor en UN corral que en Lo salvaje huyendo a diario de Unos rancheros intentando capturarlo para que no SE coma El alimento de Los becerros de UN ranchero que paga impuesto. ebb y flow; sin uno no existe El otro. asi es ESTA vida, quien SABE como sea la proxima. yo solo SE de ESTA . de la cual vivo en este minuto, Segundo, momento. de igual manera... a mi SE me antoja estar Contigo... pero igual, quiero estar Contigo... ambas cosas. estoy mejor a tu LADO, con reglamentos... que libre... siendo presionado por Los vaqueros que solo me van a acorralar a UN Centro de concentracion Esperando ser adoptado. y si ya es muy tarde? seras valiosa por siempre en mi alma. si no logras perdonarme... y buscar la paz en tu alma para volver a estar conmigo... pues no me queda mas que subir al Cerro... y vivir la vida huyendo de Los rancheros que no me quieren vagando por SUS terrenos.