I would like you to know other events that have happened to me, which will maybe bring up in your mind the same question that I have through out the years.
I have been close to death several times including right before I was going to be born. I cannot imagine what my dad had been going through as well as his thoughts when the doctor gave him a choice to decide who would get priority for life: his wife or his unborn child. I don’t blame my dad for choosing my mother. After all, how can one sacrifice the life of some one that is alive for some “unborn stranger”? The doctor was sure that either my mom or I would have to suffer the ultimate consequence: death. This is why my dad had to make the decision as to who the doctor would focus to save. My fate had already been foretold and, perhaps, would cease to go on after birth.
My mom’s history of heart problems was one of the major factors complicating her pregnancy. The other issue was her age; my mother was 49 when she was going to give birth to me. A day before my unexpected birth, my mom became aware of the pregnancy’s possible outcome. When she knew that more than likely her child was not going to make it, she did not want to give birth. She felt that, by me being in her wound, it would be the only way to still keep me alive and ever close to her. Little did everyone know that I would, some how, not want to wait another 2 months to find out what little expected life had for me. On January 22, my mother started having contractions. The sign was clear; the forecast of the unborn could wait no more. Despite of the complications at labor, the fetus was no longer in the wound but struggling to get used to the breath of life in an incubator. The doctor let my parents know that even though I was born alive, they should not get their hopes up because I was still at high risk of dying.
The first memories my mom had about me were of a “snake.” For the first 20 days or so, I shed my skin. She remembers how my hands shed leaving behind my clear dry skin in the form of a glove. During that time, my family contemplated how the weak premature child seemed as though it was not going to make it any longer. This is where my name came about. Since they were certain that I did not have much time left, my oldest sister decided to baptize me. She prayed for me through St Martin (the saint for the meek). I was named after him—Marco Martin.
As time passed, it was noticeable that my time was not up yet.....
There are other incidents in which I have been close to death. I've always wonderred about my purpose in life. Obviously, it must be a good one for I am still here able to write about those experiences myself. I will write another one later on, as I get in my writing mood, but mainly to gather information about it to clearly state the events.
Saturday, October 16, 1999
Sunday, July 04, 1999
My "Independence Day"
Summer 1996
During the summer of 1996, I was taking a couple of classes at the Eastern New Mexico University of Roswell. There were only 3 weeks left of school for that semester to be over. I had taken English 104 and Math 110. Math was no big deal t me for it’s my favorite subject ever. English, on the other hand, was the subject I was having trouble with. Most of the final grade was based on a research paper due at the end of the course. I love to write, but not when it comes to something I have no choice over waiting. Nevertheless, I was very stressful.
July 4th 1996
It wasn’t until the 4th of July that I started to give some thought about my soon due report. Every time I thought about it, I got more stressed. That was not the only thing running through my head, though. There were other few problems I was having with my family, church, and even myself. I had not eaten anything that day; I was starving. Most of the times that I get stressed out I either eat too much or hardly at all. I also like to spend time by myself when I feel down. I just want to be alone, and have a chance to reflect on my problems.
Before sunset, my friends Luis and Blanca called me and asked me if I wanted to tag along with them to buy some fireworks, and then go to see the fireworks’ show. I agree, since I had nothing better else to do. Besides, I was not feeling my greatest, and knew that I needed to get my mind off my disrupting thoughts. Luis picked up Blanca. Then he picked me up. We went to buy the fireworks as planned. After that, we drove directly to the place where the fireworks’ show was going to be. Lots of people were at the site. We all wanted to see the fantastic promising show. It was already getting dark. The crowd was making some kind of noise in sign of desperation to see the fireworks. The show finally started; everyone was very happy. In fact, that show was one of the best ones I had ever seen then in my life. It was very colorful. They burnt a lot of new types of fireworks. Nobody got hurt. Everything went as planned. The show was a great success. I was glad that my friends had picked me up. For an instance, my mind was clear, which it was good. After the show, my friends decided to go to my house and burn the fireworks we had bought. We had all kinds of fireworks. It seemed as though we were having our own little show. A few neighbors came to see and gathered around; others were watching through their windows.I had not yet realized that July 4th was going to be one of the days that I would never forget. It was not for the fact that it was the USA’s Independence anniversary but because of the significance in my life.
After we finished burning all the fireworks, my friends left home. Shortly after that, my stomach started making some noises, which clearly reminded me that I had not eaten yet. I went inside my house directly to the kitchen to check the refrigerator for food. To my "luck," there wasn’t any prepared. I got in my truck and drove to Burger King. I ordered their #1 without pickles–that was my favorite meal from them. After I got my food, I was driving while thinking on the place to go and eat my value meal. As I recalled earlier, I wanted to be by myself for some time. I remembered about Cahoon Park. I had gone there before and noticed that place was somewhat dark, quiet, and overall seemed perfect for me to have some time for myself after eating.
.......to be continued (go to my Photos and look for Joseph from Roswell. The story picks up there.)
During the summer of 1996, I was taking a couple of classes at the Eastern New Mexico University of Roswell. There were only 3 weeks left of school for that semester to be over. I had taken English 104 and Math 110. Math was no big deal t me for it’s my favorite subject ever. English, on the other hand, was the subject I was having trouble with. Most of the final grade was based on a research paper due at the end of the course. I love to write, but not when it comes to something I have no choice over waiting. Nevertheless, I was very stressful.
July 4th 1996
It wasn’t until the 4th of July that I started to give some thought about my soon due report. Every time I thought about it, I got more stressed. That was not the only thing running through my head, though. There were other few problems I was having with my family, church, and even myself. I had not eaten anything that day; I was starving. Most of the times that I get stressed out I either eat too much or hardly at all. I also like to spend time by myself when I feel down. I just want to be alone, and have a chance to reflect on my problems.
Before sunset, my friends Luis and Blanca called me and asked me if I wanted to tag along with them to buy some fireworks, and then go to see the fireworks’ show. I agree, since I had nothing better else to do. Besides, I was not feeling my greatest, and knew that I needed to get my mind off my disrupting thoughts. Luis picked up Blanca. Then he picked me up. We went to buy the fireworks as planned. After that, we drove directly to the place where the fireworks’ show was going to be. Lots of people were at the site. We all wanted to see the fantastic promising show. It was already getting dark. The crowd was making some kind of noise in sign of desperation to see the fireworks. The show finally started; everyone was very happy. In fact, that show was one of the best ones I had ever seen then in my life. It was very colorful. They burnt a lot of new types of fireworks. Nobody got hurt. Everything went as planned. The show was a great success. I was glad that my friends had picked me up. For an instance, my mind was clear, which it was good. After the show, my friends decided to go to my house and burn the fireworks we had bought. We had all kinds of fireworks. It seemed as though we were having our own little show. A few neighbors came to see and gathered around; others were watching through their windows.I had not yet realized that July 4th was going to be one of the days that I would never forget. It was not for the fact that it was the USA’s Independence anniversary but because of the significance in my life.
After we finished burning all the fireworks, my friends left home. Shortly after that, my stomach started making some noises, which clearly reminded me that I had not eaten yet. I went inside my house directly to the kitchen to check the refrigerator for food. To my "luck," there wasn’t any prepared. I got in my truck and drove to Burger King. I ordered their #1 without pickles–that was my favorite meal from them. After I got my food, I was driving while thinking on the place to go and eat my value meal. As I recalled earlier, I wanted to be by myself for some time. I remembered about Cahoon Park. I had gone there before and noticed that place was somewhat dark, quiet, and overall seemed perfect for me to have some time for myself after eating.
.......to be continued (go to my Photos and look for Joseph from Roswell. The story picks up there.)
Thursday, July 01, 1999
For The Love of A Friend
One day, when I was a freshman in high school, I saw a kid from one of my classes walking away from school going towards a bus stop. His name was Kyle. It looked like he was carrying all of his books. I thought to myself, "Why would anyone bring home all his books on a Friday? He must really be a nerd, like me." LOL I had quite a weekend planned (soccer and a fund raiser for my French Club with my friends tomorrow afternoon), so I shrugged my shoulders and went on.
As I was walking, I saw a bunch of kids running toward him. They ran at him, knocking all his books out of his arms and tripping him so he landed in the dirt. His glasses went flying, and I saw them land in the grass about ten feet from him. He looked up and I saw this terrible sadness in his eyes. My heart went out to him. So, I jogged over to him and as he crawled around looking for his glasses, I saw a tear in his eye.
As I handed him his glasses, I said, "Those guys are jerks. They really should get lives." He looked at me and said, "Hey thanks!" There was a big smile on his face. It was one of those smiles that showed real gratitude.
I helped him pick up his books, and asked him where he lived. As it turned out, he lived near me, so I asked him why I had never seen him before. He said he had gone to private school before now. I would have never hung out with a private school kid before. We talked all the way home riding the few busses we would take to get there; I carried his books. He turned out to be a pretty cool kid. I asked him if he wanted to play soccer on Saturday with me and my friends. He said yes.
We hung out all weekend and the more I got to know Kyle, the more I liked him. And my friends and family thought the same of him. Monday morning came, and there was Kyle with the huge stack of books again. I stopped him and said, "Damn boy, you are gonna really build some serious muscles with this pile of books everyday!" He just laughed and handed me half the books.
Over the next two years, Kyle and I became best friends. Now he was a senior. But we began to think about college. Kyle decided on Georgetown, and I was going to UCLA in 2 more years. I knew that we would always be friends, that the miles would never be a problem. He was going to be a doctor, and I was going for architecture or interior designer; I was stil undesided. Kyle was valedictorian of his class. I teased him all the time about being a nerd. He had to prepare a speech for graduation.
Graduation day, I saw Kyle. He looked great. He was one of those guys that really found himself during high school. He filled out and actually looked good in glasses. He had more dates than me and all the girls loved him! Boy, sometimes I was jealous. Not really because I liked men secretely. LOL I wasn't out though. That day was one of those days. I could see that he was nervous about his speech. So, I smacked him on the back and said, "Hey, big guy, you'll be great!" He looked at me with one of those looks (the really grateful one) and smiled. "Thanks," he said.
As he started his speech, he cleared his throat, and began."Graduation is atime to thank those who helped you make it through those tough years. Your parents, your teachers, your siblings, maybe a coach... but mostly your friends. I am here to tell all of you that being a friend to someone is the best gift you can give them. I am going to tell you a story."
I just looked at my friend with disbelief as he told the story of the first day we met. He had planned to kill himself over the weekend. He talked of how he had cleaned out his locker so his Mom wouldn't have to do it later and was carrying his stuff home. He looked hard at me and gave me a little smile. "Thankfully, I was saved. My friend saved me from doing the unspeakable." I heard the gasp go through the crowd as this handsome, popular boy told us all about his weakest moment. I saw his Mom and Dad looking at me and smiling that same grateful smile. Not until that moment did I realize it's depth.
Never underestimate the power of your actions. With one small gesture you can change a person's life. For better or for worse. God puts us all in each other's lives to impact one another in some way. Look for God in others.
Last I heard from Kyle, he was persuing his goal, and was soon to be married.
As I was walking, I saw a bunch of kids running toward him. They ran at him, knocking all his books out of his arms and tripping him so he landed in the dirt. His glasses went flying, and I saw them land in the grass about ten feet from him. He looked up and I saw this terrible sadness in his eyes. My heart went out to him. So, I jogged over to him and as he crawled around looking for his glasses, I saw a tear in his eye.
As I handed him his glasses, I said, "Those guys are jerks. They really should get lives." He looked at me and said, "Hey thanks!" There was a big smile on his face. It was one of those smiles that showed real gratitude.
I helped him pick up his books, and asked him where he lived. As it turned out, he lived near me, so I asked him why I had never seen him before. He said he had gone to private school before now. I would have never hung out with a private school kid before. We talked all the way home riding the few busses we would take to get there; I carried his books. He turned out to be a pretty cool kid. I asked him if he wanted to play soccer on Saturday with me and my friends. He said yes.
We hung out all weekend and the more I got to know Kyle, the more I liked him. And my friends and family thought the same of him. Monday morning came, and there was Kyle with the huge stack of books again. I stopped him and said, "Damn boy, you are gonna really build some serious muscles with this pile of books everyday!" He just laughed and handed me half the books.
Over the next two years, Kyle and I became best friends. Now he was a senior. But we began to think about college. Kyle decided on Georgetown, and I was going to UCLA in 2 more years. I knew that we would always be friends, that the miles would never be a problem. He was going to be a doctor, and I was going for architecture or interior designer; I was stil undesided. Kyle was valedictorian of his class. I teased him all the time about being a nerd. He had to prepare a speech for graduation.
Graduation day, I saw Kyle. He looked great. He was one of those guys that really found himself during high school. He filled out and actually looked good in glasses. He had more dates than me and all the girls loved him! Boy, sometimes I was jealous. Not really because I liked men secretely. LOL I wasn't out though. That day was one of those days. I could see that he was nervous about his speech. So, I smacked him on the back and said, "Hey, big guy, you'll be great!" He looked at me with one of those looks (the really grateful one) and smiled. "Thanks," he said.
As he started his speech, he cleared his throat, and began."Graduation is atime to thank those who helped you make it through those tough years. Your parents, your teachers, your siblings, maybe a coach... but mostly your friends. I am here to tell all of you that being a friend to someone is the best gift you can give them. I am going to tell you a story."
I just looked at my friend with disbelief as he told the story of the first day we met. He had planned to kill himself over the weekend. He talked of how he had cleaned out his locker so his Mom wouldn't have to do it later and was carrying his stuff home. He looked hard at me and gave me a little smile. "Thankfully, I was saved. My friend saved me from doing the unspeakable." I heard the gasp go through the crowd as this handsome, popular boy told us all about his weakest moment. I saw his Mom and Dad looking at me and smiling that same grateful smile. Not until that moment did I realize it's depth.
Never underestimate the power of your actions. With one small gesture you can change a person's life. For better or for worse. God puts us all in each other's lives to impact one another in some way. Look for God in others.
Last I heard from Kyle, he was persuing his goal, and was soon to be married.
Thursday, June 24, 1999
My 1st Kiss
I will start by writing you about my first kiss with another man...
Let me tell you the story of how this guy named Juan ended up being the first guy I ever kissed before. Iwas 16 years old living in Los Angeles, California. All of my closest family lived in this house that actually was a duplex. From the front, you would think it was just one house, but, in reality, there were two. Both parts of the house had 4 bedrooms. In the front part, my brother and his wife shared a room,this older man and one of his 2 daughters occupied another room, the third room was taken by the other oldest daughter of the same man, and the last room was shared between 2 friends of my brother. I lived inthe backside of the duplex with my parents in a room,1 of my brothers in another room, another brother and I shared the third room, and my sister with her kid onthe last room. When this guy named Juan (one of the 2 friends of my brothers) moved into the front part of house, I saw him, and could not help to feel something"weird" inside of me; I felt things that I had never felt before. Every time I would see him, my heart would pump blood faster. Just by looking at him, my days would be very joyful.
(Let me tell you about my brothers so you canunderstand something.) The brother before I was born was 6 years older than me, the brother before that had10 years more than me…..so you can imagine that I didnot grow up spending time with my brothers that much because of our age difference. With that said, my brothers liked going out to the dance clubs. They would always come home talking about how much of agreat time they had. Juan also would go with them. When he spoke about all the girls that wanted to be with him and danced with him, I felt hurt inside. In the few times that I was around all my brothers and their friends, they would always talk bad about gay people. Juan would always bring up the fact that he felt grossed out because this guy at his work liked him. In other words, they were the typical latino macho men. By this time, I was going out with one ofthe daughters of the guy that also lived with them. I really liked her a lot, but I knew that I did not felt the same feeling as I felt when I saw Juan around. The reason why I was with her was? I am (was attrated to innocence) ...she had never been with a guy sexually, was very loving, and weclicked in some way. It was already one whole year we had been going out and she still would give me a hardtime when I tried to touch her breasts. LOL. Being that young and hormones going all crazy, well it was abit torture physically because she would not let me touch her, and emotionally with Juan. (I have tostate that I was content being with that girl because deep in my mind I knew that she would not expect me to have sex with her...and I wasn't going to be up for such thing! LOL)
I did not give up on Juan; even though, there were times that I knew there was no chance in hell that there would be ever anything going on between him and me, I still hold on to the thought. Juan got a girlfriend!! :-( This almost broke my heart. When my strength was almost fading out, something happened, though! My brothers let me hang out with them and their friends while drinking in Juan’s room. Back then, I had never had any drinks, so it did not take much for me to feel tipsy. I remember that I laid down on Juan’s bed close by the wall. All I could hear is the delayed voices of my brothers in my head talking about me being drunk. One of them was saying to wake me up and go to my place, but the other one argued that if I went home in the condition that I was, my parents would notice and they would be in trouble. ;-) After a while, my brothers left, and all the guys that were drinking stayed in the room aswell. There were only 2 beds. Juan’s bed had me on by the wall, Juan right next to me in the middle, and another guy at the other end. The other bed just had 2 guys. Some time at night, while daydreaming about being in Juan’s bed, I looked around and all were asleep. I even remember the smell of Juan's pillow. He could have made the Zest commercial. Then I rolled and faced Juan as he was facing me too. I closed my eyes, and……………yep!!!! He kissed me! I first tried not to kiss back because I was afraid he would stop if he knew that I awake. He kissed me again. His lips felt so good touching mine. I almost had anorgasm there. The second time he kissed me, I still had my eyes closed, but kissed back. Still kissing, he then started feeling my body all over. He grabbed my hand and placed it on his "thing." (My heart wasgoing 100 Miles per hour.) I started to feel it; he was about 7” and uncut. Then he closed his eyes, and was trying to give me signals with his hand (slowly pushing my head towards his tool) to go down on him. I was very nervous! Just imagine how excited I was atthat time. The guy I have been in love for so long actually makes a move on me! Not only that, we arearound more people in the same room and bed. I managed to get down there and take my tongue for alicking ride. LOL I was holding it with one hand from the base pulling it into my mouth licking it with my tongue. Although inexperienced, deep-throating it asmuch as I could. I hoped it was the “ultimate”pleasure for him. It turns out that he came in my mouth! :o I am not very fond of cum; I would have to admit. :( After his ecstasy, I could not hold the cum in my mouth so I gagged and spit it on the covers. Shortly after that, he got up and went to use therestroom. Then we fell asleep. The next day, before he was going to head out to work, I went in his room to watch TV with him. He kept looking at me weird. He asked me if I remembered what had happened lastnight. I lied, and told him, “No.” He went on telling me that I had giving him a blowjob and that he really liked it. That no one had ever done it so good. Now that I think about it, he might have just be bull-shitting me just to get more, but I was naïve and really liked him a lot. So I did not care whathis intentions were towards me. After that day, we would mess around every other day. It was crazy because we both had our girlfriends. I knew that hewas not like me, though. He never did any “favors” tome. I was not expecting them, but just knew that hemight not feel comfortable doing those things just yetor at all. He did not mind us kissing nor holding each other while watching TV in his room on his bed. I would get scared that some one might catch us because his room door could not be locked, but he did not seem to care. Little things like that gave me the impression that I was a little more than just physical pleasure for him. He wanted to have anal sex with me, but I was too scared to try it. I also didn't want to loose my virginity to a guy that I knew wasn't "like me." After 2 months of our secretive relationship, he moved out from my brother’shouse. :-( I never heard from him at all; he moved up north with his brothers without noticed or a sign left behind!
When I started 11th grade, I got a job as a bus boy in this fancy restaurant located in Brentwood, CA. It so happens that one of my brother’s friend was going to get married, and he needed some help with his party. My brother asked me and several other guys to go over to the party and be the servers. We were going to get paid!!!! So, I agreed. When this famous party came around, I was doing my job-waiting tables. After the reception, a lot more people were coming in. Gues swho was there? Yep! Believe it or not, Juan showed up to the party (to my surprise). I got him a drink andthen he asked me to go outside with him. I did! We were talking out by the parking place. All of the sudden, he holds my shoulders looking straight into my eyes and gives me a kiss. He tells me that he has not forgotten about me; that I am special to him. We kissed some more and more; shortly after that, we heardpeople coming out from the party already. It was seconds till midnight, and everyone was going home. He held me tight by his side walking towards his truck while people were coming out of the party not caring what they would think or say. Then he let go and told me good bye! This time, I have not seen him ever since. Last I heard, he was married, lived in LasVegas, and already had at least one kid.
Let me tell you the story of how this guy named Juan ended up being the first guy I ever kissed before. Iwas 16 years old living in Los Angeles, California. All of my closest family lived in this house that actually was a duplex. From the front, you would think it was just one house, but, in reality, there were two. Both parts of the house had 4 bedrooms. In the front part, my brother and his wife shared a room,this older man and one of his 2 daughters occupied another room, the third room was taken by the other oldest daughter of the same man, and the last room was shared between 2 friends of my brother. I lived inthe backside of the duplex with my parents in a room,1 of my brothers in another room, another brother and I shared the third room, and my sister with her kid onthe last room. When this guy named Juan (one of the 2 friends of my brothers) moved into the front part of house, I saw him, and could not help to feel something"weird" inside of me; I felt things that I had never felt before. Every time I would see him, my heart would pump blood faster. Just by looking at him, my days would be very joyful.
(Let me tell you about my brothers so you canunderstand something.) The brother before I was born was 6 years older than me, the brother before that had10 years more than me…..so you can imagine that I didnot grow up spending time with my brothers that much because of our age difference. With that said, my brothers liked going out to the dance clubs. They would always come home talking about how much of agreat time they had. Juan also would go with them. When he spoke about all the girls that wanted to be with him and danced with him, I felt hurt inside. In the few times that I was around all my brothers and their friends, they would always talk bad about gay people. Juan would always bring up the fact that he felt grossed out because this guy at his work liked him. In other words, they were the typical latino macho men. By this time, I was going out with one ofthe daughters of the guy that also lived with them. I really liked her a lot, but I knew that I did not felt the same feeling as I felt when I saw Juan around. The reason why I was with her was? I am (was attrated to innocence) ...she had never been with a guy sexually, was very loving, and weclicked in some way. It was already one whole year we had been going out and she still would give me a hardtime when I tried to touch her breasts. LOL. Being that young and hormones going all crazy, well it was abit torture physically because she would not let me touch her, and emotionally with Juan. (I have tostate that I was content being with that girl because deep in my mind I knew that she would not expect me to have sex with her...and I wasn't going to be up for such thing! LOL)
I did not give up on Juan; even though, there were times that I knew there was no chance in hell that there would be ever anything going on between him and me, I still hold on to the thought. Juan got a girlfriend!! :-( This almost broke my heart. When my strength was almost fading out, something happened, though! My brothers let me hang out with them and their friends while drinking in Juan’s room. Back then, I had never had any drinks, so it did not take much for me to feel tipsy. I remember that I laid down on Juan’s bed close by the wall. All I could hear is the delayed voices of my brothers in my head talking about me being drunk. One of them was saying to wake me up and go to my place, but the other one argued that if I went home in the condition that I was, my parents would notice and they would be in trouble. ;-) After a while, my brothers left, and all the guys that were drinking stayed in the room aswell. There were only 2 beds. Juan’s bed had me on by the wall, Juan right next to me in the middle, and another guy at the other end. The other bed just had 2 guys. Some time at night, while daydreaming about being in Juan’s bed, I looked around and all were asleep. I even remember the smell of Juan's pillow. He could have made the Zest commercial. Then I rolled and faced Juan as he was facing me too. I closed my eyes, and……………yep!!!! He kissed me! I first tried not to kiss back because I was afraid he would stop if he knew that I awake. He kissed me again. His lips felt so good touching mine. I almost had anorgasm there. The second time he kissed me, I still had my eyes closed, but kissed back. Still kissing, he then started feeling my body all over. He grabbed my hand and placed it on his "thing." (My heart wasgoing 100 Miles per hour.) I started to feel it; he was about 7” and uncut. Then he closed his eyes, and was trying to give me signals with his hand (slowly pushing my head towards his tool) to go down on him. I was very nervous! Just imagine how excited I was atthat time. The guy I have been in love for so long actually makes a move on me! Not only that, we arearound more people in the same room and bed. I managed to get down there and take my tongue for alicking ride. LOL I was holding it with one hand from the base pulling it into my mouth licking it with my tongue. Although inexperienced, deep-throating it asmuch as I could. I hoped it was the “ultimate”pleasure for him. It turns out that he came in my mouth! :o I am not very fond of cum; I would have to admit. :( After his ecstasy, I could not hold the cum in my mouth so I gagged and spit it on the covers. Shortly after that, he got up and went to use therestroom. Then we fell asleep. The next day, before he was going to head out to work, I went in his room to watch TV with him. He kept looking at me weird. He asked me if I remembered what had happened lastnight. I lied, and told him, “No.” He went on telling me that I had giving him a blowjob and that he really liked it. That no one had ever done it so good. Now that I think about it, he might have just be bull-shitting me just to get more, but I was naïve and really liked him a lot. So I did not care whathis intentions were towards me. After that day, we would mess around every other day. It was crazy because we both had our girlfriends. I knew that hewas not like me, though. He never did any “favors” tome. I was not expecting them, but just knew that hemight not feel comfortable doing those things just yetor at all. He did not mind us kissing nor holding each other while watching TV in his room on his bed. I would get scared that some one might catch us because his room door could not be locked, but he did not seem to care. Little things like that gave me the impression that I was a little more than just physical pleasure for him. He wanted to have anal sex with me, but I was too scared to try it. I also didn't want to loose my virginity to a guy that I knew wasn't "like me." After 2 months of our secretive relationship, he moved out from my brother’shouse. :-( I never heard from him at all; he moved up north with his brothers without noticed or a sign left behind!
When I started 11th grade, I got a job as a bus boy in this fancy restaurant located in Brentwood, CA. It so happens that one of my brother’s friend was going to get married, and he needed some help with his party. My brother asked me and several other guys to go over to the party and be the servers. We were going to get paid!!!! So, I agreed. When this famous party came around, I was doing my job-waiting tables. After the reception, a lot more people were coming in. Gues swho was there? Yep! Believe it or not, Juan showed up to the party (to my surprise). I got him a drink andthen he asked me to go outside with him. I did! We were talking out by the parking place. All of the sudden, he holds my shoulders looking straight into my eyes and gives me a kiss. He tells me that he has not forgotten about me; that I am special to him. We kissed some more and more; shortly after that, we heardpeople coming out from the party already. It was seconds till midnight, and everyone was going home. He held me tight by his side walking towards his truck while people were coming out of the party not caring what they would think or say. Then he let go and told me good bye! This time, I have not seen him ever since. Last I heard, he was married, lived in LasVegas, and already had at least one kid.
Wednesday, March 17, 1999
Suicide or Murder?
Here is the story:
On March 23, 1994, the medical examiner viewed the body of Ronald Opus and concluded that he died from a shotgun wound to the head. The decedent had jumped from the top of a ten-story building intending to commit suicide. He left a note to that effect indicating his despondency. As he fell past the ninth floor, his life was interrupted by a shotgun blast passing through a window, which killed him instantly.Neither the shooter nor the decedent was aware that a safety net had been installed just below at the eighth floor level to protect some building workers, proving that Ronald Opus would not have been able to complete his suicide the way he had planned.
Ordinarily, Dr. Mills continued, "a person who sets out to commit suicide and ultimately succeeds, even though the mechanism might not be what he intended" is still defined as committing suicide. That Mr. Opus was shot on the way to certain death nine stories below at street level, but that his suicide attempt probably would not have been successful because of the safety net, caused the medical examiner to feel that he had a homicide on his hands.An elderly man and his wife occupied the room on the ninth floor from whence the shotgun blast emanated. They were arguing vigorously, and he was threatening her with a shotgun. The man was so upset that when he pulled the trigger he completely missed his wife and the pellets went through the window striking Mr. Opus.
When one intends to kill subject A, but kills subject B in the attempt, one is guilty of the murder of subject B. When confronted with the murder charge, the old man and his wife were both adamant. They both said they thought the shotgun was unloaded. The old man said it was his long-standing habit to threaten his wife with the unloaded shotgun. He had no intention to murder her, Therefore the killing of Mr. Opus appeared to be an accident, that is the gun had been accidentally loaded.
The continuing investigation turned up a witness who saw the old couple's son loading the shotgun about six weeks prior to the fatal accident. It transpired that the old lady had cut off her son's financial support and the son, knowing the propensity of his father to use the shotgun threatenly, loaded the gun with the expectation that his father would shoot his mother.
The case now becomes one of murder on the part of the son for the death of Ronald Opus. Now comes the bizarre twist. Future investigation revealed that the Son was in fact Ronald Opus. He had become increasingly despondent over the failure of his attempt to engineer his mothers murder. This led him to jump off the ten-story building on March 23rd, only to be killed by a shotgun blast passing through the ninth story window. The son had actually murdered himself so the medical examiner closed the case as a suicide. Very tidy of him.
On March 23, 1994, the medical examiner viewed the body of Ronald Opus and concluded that he died from a shotgun wound to the head. The decedent had jumped from the top of a ten-story building intending to commit suicide. He left a note to that effect indicating his despondency. As he fell past the ninth floor, his life was interrupted by a shotgun blast passing through a window, which killed him instantly.Neither the shooter nor the decedent was aware that a safety net had been installed just below at the eighth floor level to protect some building workers, proving that Ronald Opus would not have been able to complete his suicide the way he had planned.
Ordinarily, Dr. Mills continued, "a person who sets out to commit suicide and ultimately succeeds, even though the mechanism might not be what he intended" is still defined as committing suicide. That Mr. Opus was shot on the way to certain death nine stories below at street level, but that his suicide attempt probably would not have been successful because of the safety net, caused the medical examiner to feel that he had a homicide on his hands.An elderly man and his wife occupied the room on the ninth floor from whence the shotgun blast emanated. They were arguing vigorously, and he was threatening her with a shotgun. The man was so upset that when he pulled the trigger he completely missed his wife and the pellets went through the window striking Mr. Opus.
When one intends to kill subject A, but kills subject B in the attempt, one is guilty of the murder of subject B. When confronted with the murder charge, the old man and his wife were both adamant. They both said they thought the shotgun was unloaded. The old man said it was his long-standing habit to threaten his wife with the unloaded shotgun. He had no intention to murder her, Therefore the killing of Mr. Opus appeared to be an accident, that is the gun had been accidentally loaded.
The continuing investigation turned up a witness who saw the old couple's son loading the shotgun about six weeks prior to the fatal accident. It transpired that the old lady had cut off her son's financial support and the son, knowing the propensity of his father to use the shotgun threatenly, loaded the gun with the expectation that his father would shoot his mother.
The case now becomes one of murder on the part of the son for the death of Ronald Opus. Now comes the bizarre twist. Future investigation revealed that the Son was in fact Ronald Opus. He had become increasingly despondent over the failure of his attempt to engineer his mothers murder. This led him to jump off the ten-story building on March 23rd, only to be killed by a shotgun blast passing through the ninth story window. The son had actually murdered himself so the medical examiner closed the case as a suicide. Very tidy of him.
Saturday, January 23, 1999
Coming To Roswell
I will start by letting you know how I ended up in Roswell.
My parents were the main reason why I moved to this state-NM. As you know, the cost of living in LA is sky rise. Coming from a family (possibly culture) where work is more important than education, you can envision a lack of schooling from my folks. Nevertheless, coming from a family of 9 children can also add to the importance of work to support such big family. It is almost impossible to live comfortably with minimum wage jobs. My dad earned just enough to pay bills, feed us, and provide the essential things to get by daily. One day, someone out of the blue mentioned Roswell to my dad. They let him know that the cost of living was not as high as in LA. They added that their parents had bought a house in little time. What dad does not dream of having his own home—mainly for his wife and kids that are still under his care. (Oh, by the way, I am the youngest of the 9.) After that, my dad spoke with my sister about coming to Roswell. My sister was ready for a change as well, and agreed to bring my parents with her and her kids. Before we knew it, they had my sister’s van fully loaded with the few belongings they had. What a courage they had, I thought, to leave just like that! No hesitation to an alien (literally heheh) place!
Following many hours of driving, they finally arrived to their destination—Roswell. They stayed with the parents of the people that had mentioned that place to my dad. In less then a week, my dad had a job and, most important, had signed all the paperwork for a house. I guess it was true! One of his dreams had then just begun. Back in LA, we all heard the great news. My sister was going to college, the kids did not have a problem adjusting there, and my dad was ever so happy and proud. 6 months had gone by.
It was time for my Christmas break. My brother and I were very eager to see our parents, so he decided to take me with him to come and visit them. We stayed a week. It was a huge difference between both cities. When I first arrive to the town, the trees were leafless and dry. The temperature was colder than “normal.” I did not see hardly anyone outside. The few people I saw were just driving. The town claimed to have a population of 40K then. “I bet they counted the people from the cemetery as well,” I thought. None of those things made me forget my parents’ happiness to see us. They were very excited letting us know how well things had gone for them.
Shortly after we got back to LA, there were earthquakes that scared another brother I had. Since he has children, he was concerned with their safety. Not to forget the riots, and of all the attention LA was getting at that time: not positive of course. A day before my birthday (January 22), he decided to pack his bags with his family: off to the dead alien town. I did not what to feel when I received the sudden news. I was in shock when my brother said he wanted to leave LA—the place where all his life was made. I certainly could relate to that myself. In a way, I wanted to be closer to my parents. At the same time, though, I did not want to abandon the environment I was very content and pleased to be in.
LA schools had intimidated me enough to make me feel unsafe in them. For that reason, I always tried getting into schools that were outside of LA. Santa Monica High was the school of my dreams. I could not get in because I needed to live in that district. Since I lived in LA, there was a school already assigned for me to go to. By this time, my sister was going to West LA College, where one of her friends happened to live in the Santa Monica locality. She offered to help me get into the school by letting me use her address as my residency. Things just could not have gone better for me then; I got into my “dream” high school. (Getting back to the story) Everything in my life was going perfect: I had many friends from all over the world, I was carrying more than a 4.00 GPA, I felt safe, and loved going to school. I still remember having to wake up at 5am. My brother would give his wife a ride to her work in Westwood. That was my stop as well. I had to take the bus from there to the school. Everyday, I would arrive to school between 6am and 6:30am. Given that it was not open yet, I would have to jump the fence, and wait for the cafeteria to open and stay there till all my friends would show up. After school was over, I had to ride 3 buses throughout the metropolis of LA to get home. By the time I got home, it was already close to 7pm—that changed when I got my first job. I used to be a bus boy at a restaurant called The Good Earth. With my first earnings, I had bought a car. That made my life even better.
Now, I did not just have great friends, good grades, and a good reputation but a job and a car as well. Work did not interfere with my studies, though. At that early age, life seemed to be paying off all the things I had gone through to get and be in this country. (sorry back to the story again) I am sure that by now you can have a lucid feel as to what my life was then when I was told to come to Roswell: to start all over again :-( I knew that if I stayed, I would be left alone. I did not have any other brothers or sisters that lived there. My job helped me get by with things for school, but not enough to stand on my own. I did not have much to say but packed my bags. I did not know that it would take me another 4 years to come back to visit LA once again.
The day that we got into Roswell, there was a sand storm; the only thing we could see was the road about 5 to 8 feet away in front of us. Finally, we get to my parents house, and start unloading. The more I thought about it, the more I knew I was not ready for such big change in my life. My brother was not able to bring all of his belongings, so he went back with another brother. I thought I was going to go with them since I had not checked myself out from the school. Wrong! By the time my brother was able to take care of that for me, almost a month had passed. I was already in my new school, but still need the clearance from SAMOHI (SAnta MOnica HIgh) as well as my grades and points I had earned so far to determine the classes I need to graduate. It turns out that, my gpa went to the drain because they still counted the time until my brother officially checked me out. When I saw my grades, I felt very upset. If that wasn’t all, I used to be extremely shy. This was a problem as well. People from this area were much different from what I was used to. It took me almost 3 months before I talked and got to know some people—mostly girls. For some reason, I was able to make great relations with women than guys. Figures! The brother that came with his family, in a short period of time, had a job and also had bought a house just a house down from my parents. It was true what they told my dad in LA about Roswell. And that concludes that part of my life!
My parents were the main reason why I moved to this state-NM. As you know, the cost of living in LA is sky rise. Coming from a family (possibly culture) where work is more important than education, you can envision a lack of schooling from my folks. Nevertheless, coming from a family of 9 children can also add to the importance of work to support such big family. It is almost impossible to live comfortably with minimum wage jobs. My dad earned just enough to pay bills, feed us, and provide the essential things to get by daily. One day, someone out of the blue mentioned Roswell to my dad. They let him know that the cost of living was not as high as in LA. They added that their parents had bought a house in little time. What dad does not dream of having his own home—mainly for his wife and kids that are still under his care. (Oh, by the way, I am the youngest of the 9.) After that, my dad spoke with my sister about coming to Roswell. My sister was ready for a change as well, and agreed to bring my parents with her and her kids. Before we knew it, they had my sister’s van fully loaded with the few belongings they had. What a courage they had, I thought, to leave just like that! No hesitation to an alien (literally heheh) place!
Following many hours of driving, they finally arrived to their destination—Roswell. They stayed with the parents of the people that had mentioned that place to my dad. In less then a week, my dad had a job and, most important, had signed all the paperwork for a house. I guess it was true! One of his dreams had then just begun. Back in LA, we all heard the great news. My sister was going to college, the kids did not have a problem adjusting there, and my dad was ever so happy and proud. 6 months had gone by.
It was time for my Christmas break. My brother and I were very eager to see our parents, so he decided to take me with him to come and visit them. We stayed a week. It was a huge difference between both cities. When I first arrive to the town, the trees were leafless and dry. The temperature was colder than “normal.” I did not see hardly anyone outside. The few people I saw were just driving. The town claimed to have a population of 40K then. “I bet they counted the people from the cemetery as well,” I thought. None of those things made me forget my parents’ happiness to see us. They were very excited letting us know how well things had gone for them.
Shortly after we got back to LA, there were earthquakes that scared another brother I had. Since he has children, he was concerned with their safety. Not to forget the riots, and of all the attention LA was getting at that time: not positive of course. A day before my birthday (January 22), he decided to pack his bags with his family: off to the dead alien town. I did not what to feel when I received the sudden news. I was in shock when my brother said he wanted to leave LA—the place where all his life was made. I certainly could relate to that myself. In a way, I wanted to be closer to my parents. At the same time, though, I did not want to abandon the environment I was very content and pleased to be in.
LA schools had intimidated me enough to make me feel unsafe in them. For that reason, I always tried getting into schools that were outside of LA. Santa Monica High was the school of my dreams. I could not get in because I needed to live in that district. Since I lived in LA, there was a school already assigned for me to go to. By this time, my sister was going to West LA College, where one of her friends happened to live in the Santa Monica locality. She offered to help me get into the school by letting me use her address as my residency. Things just could not have gone better for me then; I got into my “dream” high school. (Getting back to the story) Everything in my life was going perfect: I had many friends from all over the world, I was carrying more than a 4.00 GPA, I felt safe, and loved going to school. I still remember having to wake up at 5am. My brother would give his wife a ride to her work in Westwood. That was my stop as well. I had to take the bus from there to the school. Everyday, I would arrive to school between 6am and 6:30am. Given that it was not open yet, I would have to jump the fence, and wait for the cafeteria to open and stay there till all my friends would show up. After school was over, I had to ride 3 buses throughout the metropolis of LA to get home. By the time I got home, it was already close to 7pm—that changed when I got my first job. I used to be a bus boy at a restaurant called The Good Earth. With my first earnings, I had bought a car. That made my life even better.
Now, I did not just have great friends, good grades, and a good reputation but a job and a car as well. Work did not interfere with my studies, though. At that early age, life seemed to be paying off all the things I had gone through to get and be in this country. (sorry back to the story again) I am sure that by now you can have a lucid feel as to what my life was then when I was told to come to Roswell: to start all over again :-( I knew that if I stayed, I would be left alone. I did not have any other brothers or sisters that lived there. My job helped me get by with things for school, but not enough to stand on my own. I did not have much to say but packed my bags. I did not know that it would take me another 4 years to come back to visit LA once again.
The day that we got into Roswell, there was a sand storm; the only thing we could see was the road about 5 to 8 feet away in front of us. Finally, we get to my parents house, and start unloading. The more I thought about it, the more I knew I was not ready for such big change in my life. My brother was not able to bring all of his belongings, so he went back with another brother. I thought I was going to go with them since I had not checked myself out from the school. Wrong! By the time my brother was able to take care of that for me, almost a month had passed. I was already in my new school, but still need the clearance from SAMOHI (SAnta MOnica HIgh) as well as my grades and points I had earned so far to determine the classes I need to graduate. It turns out that, my gpa went to the drain because they still counted the time until my brother officially checked me out. When I saw my grades, I felt very upset. If that wasn’t all, I used to be extremely shy. This was a problem as well. People from this area were much different from what I was used to. It took me almost 3 months before I talked and got to know some people—mostly girls. For some reason, I was able to make great relations with women than guys. Figures! The brother that came with his family, in a short period of time, had a job and also had bought a house just a house down from my parents. It was true what they told my dad in LA about Roswell. And that concludes that part of my life!
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