My Life: Becoming a freelance writer

Hello? Is this thing on?

If so, I would like to say hi andĀ welcome you to my blog. And for those who have not heard from me in years, I would like to apologize. My life these past two years have been chaotic (and that’s keeping it simple). I went from home to home trying to find a place to call my own, changed job positions, and invested a significant amount of time and money on pursuing a Masters degree.

However, life happened and I am no longer in the right circumstances to continue.

I hope to share with you, in time, that chapter of my life. You’ll understand all of my struggles, my joys, and my pains. But for now, I would like to share something that I have not told my family. I am trying to find meaning in my life and in the process, I have decided to become a freelance writer. To tell you the truth, I don’t have a clue about what I am getting myself into, but that has never stopped me before.

When my guidance counselor told me that I would not go to a four-year college, I ended up graduating from San Francisco State University with a B.A. in Psychology and minor in Counseling. When all my other brother’s dropped out of school, I applied to a Masters program and got in. And I will continue to move forward regardless.

My stories aren’t too sophisticated (trust me, I know). Nor are they grammatically perfect (that is a creative choice). But they are honest (I promise). And that’s why I want to write and make a living out of it. I want to share my story and help at least one person get through the day. Or to make them laugh. Or cry. Or make them not feel alone.

And with that announcement, I would like some help from you.

I know this may alienate the people who read my blog, but I would appreciate any leads that can help in me becoming a freelance writer or at least a place where I can make a living sharing my stories.

Here is a list of some stories that show off my writing skills. I hope you all enjoy them! šŸ™‚

Life: A Message To My Future Daughter

The Night My Life Changed: An Introduction

The Brother Who Left My Life

The First Sexual Encounter Of My Life

I know it’s a long shot, but it’s an attempt. Hopefully someone out there can hear me. Thank you.







My Complicated Life (A Satire)

I complicate my life too much. Honestly.

I don’t mean to make things complicated. Things just turn out that way.

If I wasn’t so reluctant to publicize my life to friends and family, I would have updated my relationship status to “It’s complicated.” My 2 year on-and-off relationship would have ended the day after my ex and I met for sex, but it didn’t. Instead I chose to seek him, love him, lose him, seek him again, fight for his love, lose interest in him, have him seek me, regain interest in him, love him again, lose him again, and complicate my life even further. I had it all wrong. I thought drama sought me, but I seem to seek drama.

All my life I wanted to be spontaneous and fun, or at least have an exciting life, but this fantasy just complicates my life. Fun and spontaneous means going to random clubs and drinking until I black out, but mix in my sexual provocative behavior (grabbing and kissing random strangers) and you will have a story to tell during our sober interactions. I will then assure you that I am not a wild party animal because…I really am not. I just don’t know other ways I can be fun and spontaneous. I complicate my life without knowing just how complicated I make it. You see, I have mistaken drama with fun and that always complicates things.

And if you want to start a relationship with me, I will convince you that I am not ready to start dating but get angry when you don’t want to date me. Heck, I will even tell you that I am not looking for sex, but I will have naked pictures ready and be fine if you ask to have sex with me. I’m not complicated. I just make things complicated.

Want to be my friend? I hope not. You will have to text me at least once a week or I will get angry at you for not replying. I may even forget about you. But I will tell you that you shouldn’t get mad at me when I don’t text you because “I was just too busy.” I will treat you as if you and I were in a relationship because being in a real relationship is just too hard for me right now. Instead, I will complicate our friendship.

My complicated behavior isn’t limited to friends and boyfriends. Nope. If you’re a family member, I will love you from a distance because that’s how we always did it. I will make an appearance during big holidays or special events in our lives, but I’ll be on my own most of the time. I will say I’m happy even though I know that you know I am not. I won’t be completely honest with my feelings or my relationship because you just aren’t ready to hear my truth.

My truth: My first relationship fucked me over. I have trust issues now. I seek attention from guys. I fear yet want a relationship. I sometimes distance myself from my friends because getting too close to someone can go wrong. My fear of disappointing my family over my sexuality keeps me from being completely honest with them. They won’t be able to understand me.

Dang, I honestly complicate my life too much.

My Life In Private

I’m a private person. I don’t mean the type of private where you keep to yourself and never let anyone know what you’re doing. I’m talking about the private where you don’t share your feelings, secrets, concerns, or let people in your life (the real life you live).

I can tell you about the time I went clubbing for the first time, got really drunk, made-out with a stranger in the cab, almost got roofied, had a panic attack, and arrived home around 5 in the morning. But it’s hard to tell you that I felt sad for being away from my family that I decided to drink in order to cope, but ended up drinking a bit too much. I’ts hard to tell you that I was scared of not fitting into the gay scene that I didn’t object when a guy came to me and kissed me. It’s especially hard to tell you how disappointed I felt at myself for letting all the bad things happen that I had to step outside to be alone, but I felt so overwhelmed and had my first panic attack. That’s too personal to tell.

I don’t mean to tell people the half-truth. I really don’t. I just don’t want people to judge the real me. If I tell you all about what goes on in my head or how I view the world, you’ll probably laugh. At times, I even laugh at myself for thinking the way I do. I once thought people in this world would not purposely want to harm me (emotionally or physically), but I was wrong. People lie and people have hurt me. I freak out and break down whenever that happens. I cry sometimes. I remember crying at night when I was alone in my room in San Francisco. I was crying so hard and loud that I had a hard time breathing, and I remember feeling exhausted after and fell asleep like a baby. I nearly freaked myself out. You’re probably right in assuming that I’m rambling, but I’m letting you in my head; the random part and the private part.

I hardly tell my family as much as I’m telling you today. They’re really private people. I can’t blame them. If you knew how much drama the family has gone through, you would want to keep private too. I tell my family that I’m going out with friends. I don’t tell them that I’m going to a gay club to drink, that my friends are gay, or that I’ll possibly hook up and sleep over at my “friends'” house. I don’t tell them how miserable I feel sometimes. I don’t tell them how unsure I am of my future or the random thoughts I have while I’m home. I don’t know why. I guess i’m just a really private person.

The Friends In My Life

I don’t have many friends; I’m not going to lie. Well, not many real friends. You know, the type of friends who will answer your call at 11pm and talk with you the whole night. The type of friends who know your secrets and don’t judge you based on your past no matter how dirty it once was. The ones who let you know they will always be there when you need them the day you tell them you have just given up on the world and suddenly feel alone. Yeah, I don’t have many of those real friends.

In fact, most of my friends don’t know each other. They consist of people from different school organizations or programs I have been involved in (gay and straight). They have their own group of friends that I will never meet or share inside jokes, so sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have a close group of friends. You know, like the ones on the television who are always hanging out and have plenty of silly stories to share with each other.

I don’t mean to sound negative; I really don’t. I’m happy with the friends I have made, the majority being girl friends (the perks of being a gay guy I suppose). Having plenty of girl friends allows me to share my feelings and relationship problems a lot more openly. BecauseĀ most don’t hang out with each other, I have the luxury of venting to each one of them about my problems without boring them too much, and each time analyzing my situation a bit further. I hope I’m not using them. I like when they call me “love,” honey,” or “boo,” because that shows they genuinely care about me. I like when they ask about my life, but find this odd because I’m really not an interesting person.

I have a monotone voice that makes a funny story that I’m telling my friends sound like a sad story (I don’t even know how that’s possible). I also have the power of invisibility. I have the tendency to be hanging out with a group of my friends without them really noticing me. The more people in the group, the less I talk (unless I drink of course). I honestly don’t know how I make friends. I’m even more surprised that I’m able to keep them around or I guess after a while they really do leave. Not my best friend though, she’s MY one real friend.

Her and I were in the same program in community college, but we hardly talked in the beginning. We starting talking the following year and ever since then we have truly become the best of friends. I’m able to be my true self when I’m with her, the uncensored-always-making-sexual-innuendos-gay-boy that I am. She even has a nickname for me, Eddyface. I’m still thinking of one for her. If there’s a moment of silence, I never feel awkward, and the laughs that we share are real. I tell her the lame jokes that I tell my family, and she actually finds them funny (at least, I hope she’s not lying). What I love most is that she puts up with my relationship drama and the constant rambles about my life. Kind of like you.

I know I don’t know you, but I do consider you my friend. You know a bit about myself that many people don’t care to know or want to hear. I know I have confused you because I tell you I act differently with my friends, and if I have, then you now know what it’s like to be my friend. Welcome.

My friends wou

I doubt my friends would let me post a picture of them, so here’s a picture of the Bay Bridge I took during an afternoon walk.