Christian's mind.....

Wednesday, March 30, 2005

I hate feeling inferior, and appearantly so does everyone else.

I was playing Table Hockey with my friends today. I beat them both, surprisingly. Every time I beat someone at a physical semi/physical sport they seem to start getting extra competitive when I'm beating them like they couldn't possibly lose to me. I guess that happens to everyone if they are underestimated at first. Ii just hate that feeling, they are my friends right, why should the winner matter that much? I don't know though, I beat them and proved myself, if they feel bad then screw them, they don't know my potential/capabilities. I pity the fool who doesn't realize he doesn't know what everyones capable of.

Saturday, March 26, 2005

So, I really like how this looks but I don't know...what to write what to write.

Well right now I think i'm getting sick. Which blows tremendously. I hate being sick, why does it have to happen to me so frequently gosh dang it. Well I'm listening to some death cab for cutie, I think i'm gonna hop in the shower and see what happens. Later.

Sunday, March 20, 2005

My mom had me talk to her friend on the phone because she had some "technical" questions for me about computers. Anywho, she hears my voice and she starts crying and immediately I know why. Her son was killed in a driveby. I'm not gonna bullshit you and tell you he wasn't a gangster. I won't lie to you and tell you he was honest. I know he made mistakes, but I also know, that given the right conditions, he could have changed. He was a noble person when he was younger who did things on principal that were often unpopular. He would get yelled at by teachers for fighting with bullies while defending weaker kids. Sometimes the weaker kid was me. I loved her son so much for what he stood for. He was a great nice guy. He turned into a gangster later on when they moved to another part of town because their dad had left early on and his mom was going to start a business near where they were moving to. The house was going to be bigger, but it was in a bad neighborhood.

She cried because I reminded her of him. And at that time I too wanted to cry because I don't know if I measure up to him, the him I knew. I didn't know him too well when he was a gangster and all that, so my image of him is still a portrait of an impoverished youth. A ghetto minister that taught me to fight with balls, regardless of how big the other guy was. "If your fighting for a good reason, you'll probably win" he used to say. I'm not a gangster because of how I grew up and where I grew up. My parents and family helped. So it is indeed by a stroke of luck that I am who I am. Thinking about him now, I think of how good I have it, eventhough I feel like i've been dealt a pretty lousy hand. One day, I want people to think of me the things I think of him. He was a flawed person, as we all are, but his brilliance shone bright in his innocence.

rest in peace Antonio...