My Life: Latino Perspective Song Review

Best way for retaliation, beat them at their own game

Standing at the mountain top, scream it loud and proclaim

I am proud of my culture and my heritage

God’s gift, I am Mexican American!

Leon B, a new artist from Orange County, California, just released a song called Latino Perspective. In it, he sends a rally cry for all Latinos across the nation to unite, proclaim their heritage, and be proud of it. At a time where most artist are rap about getting money and being on drugs, it’s refreshing to hear an honest  take on the climate of today’s Latin community. Leon B urges those in his community to take a look at themselves and realize that there’s no limit to what they can contribute to society. With an old-school beat and honest lyrics, Latino Perspective sends a powerful message and gives us a glimpse into the music of Leon B.

 

Click the link to hear the full version of Latino Perspective

Also, subscribe and follow Leon B at:

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCKG47Qj5YKuOlBxF4O_j5Rg

Twitter: https://twitter.com/whoisleon_b

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/whoisleon_b/

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My Life: The Unspoken Monologue

As a school assignment, we were to give a presentation about the reasons why we wanted to be a therapist. I, of course, decided to write a monologue about my life and how it led to me being in a classroom learning skills to become one. However, as the weeks progressed and my monologue became more personal, I decided that I was not ready to share. Instead I gave a presentation using family photos that showed a glimpse into my personal life. I concluded by saying that I wanted to be a therapist for my family. Funny, how I almost convinced myself that this was the truth.

Through the process of looking at my childhood, adolescence, and adult life, I discovered just how much of my past I had been running from. I do hope everything makes sense. Thank you.

In order to understand why I want to be therapist, I had to reflect back.

I thought of when I was a kid and how I constantly heard my mom get yelled at by my dad.

I remember how she just stood there, took it all, and begged him to stop drinking.

I thought about when my dad drank, his anger, and the pain I felt when he hit me and my older brothers.

I remember my older brothers, the drugs they took, them getting locked up, and taken away.

I thought about how alone I felt, the bad thoughts in my head, and how scared I was of someone finding out.

As a child, I wanted to escape my family.

But those thoughts of hanging and drowning myself became unbearable.

Instead, I decided to separate myself from my family. That way their problems were no longer mine.

My older brother wasn’t schizophrenic. He faked all the voices he heard in his head. And just for attention, he lost those twenty pounds. Barely slept. Never showered. He stunk so bad from not cleaning himself after going to the restroom that my dad forced him into the bathtub, yelled at him, and threw water on him until he was clean. Slowly his screams faded. He never learned his lesson.

My other brother, I hated him. His promises and his lies. The last real conversation I had with him was when we were both outside staring at the clouds and he turned to me and told me that things were only going to get worse from there on. This was before the meth. Before he got locked up for breaking into an empty house to sleep in when my dad finally decided to kick him out. Before the drugs messed with his head so much that he could barely speak in complete sentences.

At the age of fourteen, I convinced myself that they deserved it. We stopped talking soon after.

Years later when both were deported, I was too focused on school to care. And when one of them went missing, I was too concerned with moving to San Francisco to pursue a degree in a field that helps people that he never crossed my mind. And when I graduated, I was too obsessed with finding the right job that I had forgotten to visit the remaining one. And when I got the job, I was too stressed out to notice that he needed my help.

At the group home, I worked most days and long hours. Heard all these tragic stories by clients. I thought I was making a difference.

Then one day, a client ran away and I ran after her. I didn’t mind her cursing at me or the fact that I was running into traffic. I needed to save her. We ran far until she eventually got tired and decided to lie on the grass. She turned to me and asked why I didn’t just leave her. Nobody wanted her and nobody cared. I stood there silently. As she began to cry, I thought about how alone she felt. Her life full of pain. How much she reminded me of my older brothers. All her life she struggled with abuse. At the age of eleven she started using drugs. At thirteen she was arrested. And at fourteen she was sent to the group home. Before she ran away, she was told that she needed to stay there a few months longer because she was caught using drugs again. She told me she felt stuck and just wanted to be home and see her family. As I looked back at her, I finally said that I cared for her and the only thing that mattered in that moment was her. She began to cry again, but a few minutes later she stopped. A staff came and we were able to get her to return back. The next day she thanked me for running after her and to let me know that I was fast as hell. I smiled. Weeks later she relapsed and months later she ran away again. I will never know what happened to her or if I ever made an impact.

So why do I want to become a therapist?

Because of the guilt. Because I convinced myself that if I help others, it will ease the pain of not helping my older brother’s. But it won’t. And I will continue to search for that missing void in my life. And it will hurt. But in time, I will learn to let go. Learn that not all the things I experienced were my fault. I know that’s not the healthiest reason. Or a good one. But that’s the truth. And perhaps, that’s what that assignment was all about.

 

Here’s a link to the audio version of my post. Thank you for all the support.

My Life: Becoming a freelance writer

Hello? Is this thing on?

If so, I would like to say hi and 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! 🙂

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.

 

Sincerely,

EDDY

 

 

My Boring Life

I always wanted my life to be fun. The type of fun others defined for me. The party life, the fun life. I used to daydream about having a life where I would party with friends all night and drink more than my body could handle. I would dance promiscuous in clubs, make out with many guys, and have plenty of crazy stories to tell the next morning. What a fun life. A life I lived.

To be honest, I have my share of crazy party stories. I’ve drank and thrown up in front of my friends several times. I’ve blacked out and woken up in random places. I’ve gotten in fights while drunk and woken up with bruises. I’ve grinded on many gay guys. I’ve done more sexual things in clubs than legally allowed. I’ve danced shirtless and on poles. I’ve flirted with straight guys. I’ve made out with straight girls. I’ve gotten home way past 5am on several occasions. I’ve been an angry drunk and a fun drunk. I’ve accidentally snorted coke and forgot the nights events. I was roofied once. I’ve been date raped, and refused to accept it. I’ve cried many times in the bathroom while my friends were outside drinking. I’ve fucked up plenty and there’s no denying I’ll fuck up again.

I’m not not regretting what I’ve done or say I will never party again. I just want you to know that I’ve cried a lot during those two years of partying, drinking, and having random sex. That type of life can really mess you up.

I tried to convince myself that drinking was fun. I tried to pretend the people I met in these clubs and bars were my friends. I tried to convince myself that I was in a “real” relationship. Most of all, I tried to convince myself that I was a fun person, but I’m not. I’m done with the party scene and I’m done lying to myself.

Truth is, I’m boring, but I like being boring.

I like watching a random movie at home with my family. I like going to the beach and listening to the sound of waves by myself. I like running alone at night and taking long walks during the day. I like admiring the view while my friends drive long-distances. I like watching people as I take the bus or train to my destination. I like listening to House music or love songs when I need to escape my reality. I like having small dinners and spending hours talking with my friends.

I like my life. No matter how boring it may be.