To My Brother From the Same Mother

I want to take a moment to publicly recognize someone who is very important to me. This person has been, in many ways, my role model, my guide, and my inspiration for who I've decided to become. Acting as my conscience, adviser, mentor, and keeper, this person has done so much for me and I have never taken the time to thank him. Daniel, brother, this one is for you.


Few people know you, bro, the way I do. Years of living with you have taught me to be able to see behind your eyes and into a deep, contemplative, complicated mind. You have always been a thinker, and by that I mean you would actually go places alone and do nothing but think. You would think about books that you've read (and you've read a lot of books), movies you've seen, people you've heard, and you would try to make them all work together, just to see if it was possible. I think your college years were your happiest. You had a chance to read more books, watch more movies, listen to more people, and do much more thinking. Eventually, you hoped you would get the chance to put all of that thinking to the test.


Then came life after college. I think it's safe to say that life after college is pretty much never what graduates expect. You weren't able to find a job consistent with your degree right away, but that was no big surprise. Almost no one does. You tried being a sales representative. As someone who's been there, I can say that it must have sucked hard core. I was always impressed with how you stuck with it and always came back with a goofy grin because something weird happened to you that day. When I was a sales representative, I just came back tired and cranky. Anyway, it just seemed like your life was full of adventure, especially when you almost died in Peru or wherever. That was quite a story to hear!


However fun or adventurous your life may seem on the outside, I know that it must cause you quite a bit of stress and pain. How could it not? Being on the verge of poverty has been something you and I have grown up with, but it has never been something to get used to. We've both been scratching and scraping to pay off college debt, and it never seems to end. I know our lives have not been the stuff from fairy tales where they live happily ever after. I know that we've both done things that we will regret for the rest of our lives because we can't forgive ourselves even though every one else already has. We both have been living lives that punch us in the face and kick us while we're down. I've tried to imagine myself not stressing over money, but that seems like an impossibility. I know you have probably been thinking the same. I also know that you probably have many more problems that I may never hear about. But I do know that you will come out winning, like you always have.


So when you feel like tearing at your hair and crying out, "what the hell am I supposed to do now," consider everything our family has gone through and still come out alive on the other end. We lived in a country where corruption was a way of life, but Mom and Dad fought the flow and held fast to their moral standards. Even though doing business honestly was not the most profitable way to live, we are still alive. Remember how our uncle would criticize Americans until we were bleeding from the ears from listening to him? He wasn't the only man like that. The majority of the people in our neighborhood hated Americans, for no good reason, but we are still alive. When we moved back to the United States, we came poor and we stayed poor. Job after job, problem after problem, it just seems like life keeps pelting us with shit, but we are still alive.


Sometimes, life is just hard to live. We live in difficult times, and it seems like everyone in our family has a shit magnet stuck to our backs. Everywhere we go, trouble follows. We can't seem to get a break. I know this has been the case for you. It has been for me as well. But don't think for a second that your problems are your fault! Life has a way of testing you, of tempering you until you are nigh unbreakable. Daniel, you have been through more problems than anyone else I know, and you've always come back up swinging your fists for more. Yes, you would get beat down, but then you would get up and puff up your chest in defiance as if to say, "Is that really all you've got?" Mom always talks about how problems roll off of me like water on duck feathers. What she probably didn't realize is that I have become that way from watching you. Your ability to have an unshakable faith in God being right, no matter what the circumstance, has always been your greatest quality. The meaning of the name Daniel is: God is my judge. This means that the only living being to be able to dictate your life is God himself. What a terrifying and comforting realization, knowing that there is literally nothing in the world that can stop you from achieving your dreams because God is the only one that can actually tell you "no."


If you ever feel like you are under appreciated, first of all, forgive me for not thanking you for being my keeper. But also know that there are many people who have been positively affected by you, possibly without realizing it. You have never been a man of many words, bro, but we all know that actions speak louder; you have always been a man of action, and that is what everyone is going to see. People can see your integrity, your honesty, your desire for the good of humankind. You have the heart of a stalwart defender, a fierce attacker, and a caring steward. People see this in you. We can see that you are what it means to have faith the size of mustard seed and still be able to move mountains. Maybe it doesn't seem that way to you, but that's only because you can't feel the weight you've lifted from my shoulders time after time.


If you feel like nobody cares about you, you've never been more mistaken. Mom and Dad planned you. You weren't a broken prophylactic. Mom and Dad loved you before you were an embryo...and then they made you and embryo, but we don't have to go into details. Your siblings have always cared about you too. We may have teased and pestered you, but that's only because we find ourselves unable to express our undying respect and envy of the person you've become. And of course, never forget that God nailed eternal proof of his love for you on a common crucible so that all people, dead and living, could see that you are someone for whom he gives a damn. Bro, that kind of love can't be severed by a thousand swords. There is no pit in Hell hot enough to consume the love directed toward you.


I wrote this because, as I've said, I've never taken the time to thank you for being my big brother. Reading over this post, I can see that it could bear to be revised and polished, but I choose to leave it as is. I wrote this from the heart. You deserve to have my thanks in its raw form. Maybe that only actually makes sense to me and not to anyone else....The point is, you are who I want to be when I grow up (I still have quite a bit of growing to do I think). Thanks for being my moral compass. Thanks for being the one to side with me when no one else would. Thanks for lending a helpful hand when mine are full.


Thanks for being my brother.

Guilt Tripping

If you know me, you know that I'm a super nice guy. I might be too nice, in fact. I'm so nice, if you asked me to give you a bite of my sandwich, I would. I'm so nice, if you asked me to give you a thigh massage, I would. I'm so nice, if you asked me to take off my clothes and give it to you, I would. In short, I'm kind of a push over. Please don't make me do stuff...

I actually might not do everything I said I would, but if you really really wanted me to, you would just have to guilt me into it. My biggest weakness is other people's vulnerability, especially if it's a girl/lady/crone. If you ask me to do something and it looks like I really don't want to, here's a list of things you can do to get me to change my mind:

Guilt Tripping Techniques

• Look down at your toes. It makes you look dejected.
• Do that puppy eye thing. Seriously, my freakin' kryptonite.
• Threaten to end our friendship if I don't comply.
• Whine.
• Pretend to ask other people to do it and not find anyone that's willing to help you.
• Tell me that I'm your last resort. That will offend me, since you thought about me last, making me want to show you up by doing what you ask me to do.
• After I say "no," don't say anything. If you don't say anything you make me feel like I killed your guinea pig.
• Whine.
• Tell me that I'm a good person and I'm the only one that ever does anything for you. Why would I want to prove you wrong?
• Say there's a baby involved. Any baby but mine will do.
• Pretend to cry. Don't worry if you're bad at acting. It actually still works on me. Not even joking.
• Whine.
• Say something like, "Remember the time when you told me you'd help me?" It doesn't matter if it's not true. I have so little faith in my memory, I'll probably believe you.
• Ask repeatedly. It's like hitting someone time after time with a spoon. Eventually something will break.
• Of course, whine.

I'm sure there are more ways you could guilt me into doing things. It's not hard. I've tried, on occasion, to try to just say "no" and walk away, the idea being that I would become a little less of a push over. What actually happens when I say "no" is that little parts of me die inside. The little dead parts stay in me for the rest of the day. I lose sleep over it. I lose my appetite. I repeatedly kick myself mentally. It's a pretty serious emotional attack.

The magic of the whole shebang is that "guilt" implies I've done something wrong, even when that isn't necessarily the case. So when you make me feel like I'm hurting you by saying "no," you wreak mental, psychological, and emotional havoc on my insides. Imagine throwing an assortment of fuzzy little rodents in a powered blender. Imagine being the little bird the cuckoo pushes out of the nest. Imagine a happy family of sea squirrels getting mauled by sharks. That is what you do to me when you guilt trip me. Maybe you're the one who should be feeling guilty next time!

Short Story "Teaser Trailer"

I would like to thank all those of you who voted and helped me pick a genre for my short story! The winning category was FANTASY!

I don't want to give away too much, but I will tell you this: The main character's name is Seraph. He belongs to a centuries old order of holy protectors of the empire he lives in. His empire and an opposing empire have been at war for a long, long time. Both empires are aided by deities, Seraph's empire by one, the enemy empire by at least four.

I'd like to offer an opportunity to you, as a gift for being faithful readers. I'm having trouble coming up with a names for characters that will be in the story. I have a concept for what I want some of the characters to be like, but they're just ideas without names right now. If you would like your name to be in the story, go ahead and type your name in the comment section below. You can submit your name as is, or you can alter it to sound "fantasyish."

Don't be afraid! I would be thrilled to have you in my story! :)

Also, based on the number of comments I had when I asked for votes on a genre, I think it might be safe to say that everyone who submits his/her name will be in the story. So don't worry about being outsubmitted!

The Cuckoo Bird

Recently I've been having a little bit of writer's block. Actually, I didn't really realize I had it until I sat down in front of the screen just now. What causes writer's block? In my case, not being able to do something that I'm usually able to do is caused by something new taking up space in my mind. 

Are you familiar with the cuckoo bird? When it's time for the mother cuckoo to lay her egg, she hides among the bushes, waiting, watching for other mother birds to leave their nests. When she spots a mother bird leaving her nest to find food, the cuckoo flies to the nest, lays her egg, and leaves. When the baby cuckoo hatches, it wobbles around in the nest, pushing the other baby birds or eggs over the edge. This ensures that the baby cuckoo is the only one left to feed when the mother of the other birds returns. It's brutal. It's cruel. It's heartless. And it's just what that new something does to my creativity.

Sometimes finding the baby cuckoo of my creativity helps me get back on track. But identifying the little jerk isn't easy. Am I being distracted by a new game I've gotten into? Am I thinking about a girl? Am I hungry? Am I concerned that I'm dreaming about banging faulty grenades against hard surfaces to make them blow up? It could be none of the above. The dumb thing is it could also be all of the above, i.e., a girl that's distracting me with a new game when I'm hungry and also asleep, dreaming about banging faulty grenades against hard surfaces. That's the only way I can rationalize it.

Of course, writer's block doesn't have to be caused by something blind, naked, and ugly, like the evil cuckoo demon-bird-baby from hell (I decided to add some adjectives. What kind of baby kills other people's babies?!). It could be something awesome or beautiful that's just so good, it distracts from the task at hand. For example, it could be a new game you just got into. It could be a girl. It could also be a dream about trying to blow up grenades that just won't blow up. Who cares if they do, you're asleep and you can't die. How awesome is that? See what I did there? Two different points of view for the same problem. I'm a freakin' genius.

Sometimes the best way to deal with a problem is to use the problem against itself. Like what I'm doing here: instead of being a pee pants about my literary inhibition, I'm making it the source of my creative awesome. Do you have problems that you're stressing over? Try this approach. It might work. Okay, let's say that your in-laws are over at your place. Big problem. You hate your in-laws. They're always talking about how your husband/wife was better off before you got married. Also, they hate your new hair cut. Don't worry. All you have to do is get them to start talking about themselves. Ask them about their dog, Mufasa. Didn't he have some problem with his whatever? So how is he now? Oh my, you had to get him neutered! I would not like to be in his position. Yes, I can understand why that would make you feel terrible. How could you not? You basically just shot Mufasa's legacy in the jewels!

See? You got them to talk about themselves, completely forgetting you in the process. Of course, if you have a really good relationship with your in-laws you won't have to try this. And if you do, you came up with the idea on your own, you understand? Note: I would like to apologize to any in-laws who might have been offended. I'm not married, so I don't have any, but in case you read this after I marry your daughter, you have my sincerest apologies.

So, what do you do when the baby cuckoo pushes your creativity babies out of your nest? Do you pout and stomp away like a little girl (I'm not being sexist...that's just what little girls do...)? Do you man up and kick your creative block in the ass (I'm not being sexist...that's just what men do. That's why we say man up...)? Note: I would like to apologize to any girls who might have been offended while reading this paragraph. There is no way I think guys are superior to girls. That would be silly! That would be like saying a king is superior to a queen, or that the father is the head of the family, which, of course, is untrue and absurd. I'm not married, but just in case my future wife is reading this, you have my sincerest apologies, my love. I'll make you a candlelit dinner with wine to make up for it.

Why Did I Trust You?

Why did I trust you, o, bagel toaster?

Why did I let you heat up my snack?

All I asked for was a slightly crispy treat.

Instead, you mock me and char my meal to a cracker thin crisp.

There will be no bagel phoenix rising from my bagel ashes.

There will be no salvation for my food condemned to Hell.

I asked for a golden, honeyed brown.

You gave me firewood instead, and turned my smile upside down.

This layer of cream cheese barely masks the flavor of your prank.

I can taste forever the cancer you seared on my plate.

There will be no next time, demon bagel toaster from Hell.

I will never again fall prey to your heinous misdeeds.

Prepare to meet your maker, ogre spawn from the murky below.

Where once you had a friend in me, now I am your darkest foe.

Choose Your Destiny...

Alright, blog fans! Today's post is going to be quite short, and here's why: I decided that it'd be cool to write a short story of some sort, but I can't decide on the genre. I'm going to list a few of the ideas I have in mind. What I need you to do is to vote on which one you want to read most.

Pick Your Story:

1. Mystery: This will be heavily influenced by Sir Arhtur Conan Doyle's work. It will probably be nowhere near as epic as the Sherlock Holmes stories, but I'll give it my best.
2. Fantasy: I'm not sure how I would do this one. I'm not sure whether to create my own creatures or to draw from other works (meaning, use the typical fantasy creatures: dwarves, dragons, elves, fairies, etc.).
3. Historical Fiction: I love history. Protagonists for this short story will likely be selected from the Renaissance or earlier (Rome, Greece, Vikings, etc.).
4. Romance: I've never written a romance, and I don't really think I could write one that is convincing and not extremely sappy. But I'm willing to give it a go and be subject to criticism.
5. Zombie Apocalypse: The whole point of a zombie apocalypse is to stay alive. The best way I could think of making this worth your while is by making it a "choose your own adventure" kind of story. This would take considerably more work on my part, by I believe it could be fun.

And there you have it! To vote, just post a comment in the comment section below, stating which genre you would like me to write. If you know my phone number, a text message is acceptable too.