a star is born

♥ (Oct 18 2007) Win. Handle pressure. Take a hit. Lead a team. Call the shots. Command respect. Show respect. Get the girl. Look good on the red carpet. Look even better on the screen. Sign a big contract. Turn down a bigger one. Drop back. Go deep. Dress well. Live well. Give back. Look ahead. Come from behind. Scramble. Stay loose. Have fun. Give credit where credit is due. Play the game. Go to Disney World. Learn from my mistakes. Accept defeat. Inspire confidence. Grace the cover of GQ. Host Saturday Night Live. Laugh at myself. Get a laugh. Dance. Sing. Well, no, I can't sing. But they say John Kennedy couldn't carry a tune either. post comment

♥ (Sep 09 2007) MY POOR MUSTANG! Jesus Christ, it's a fucking wreck and I'm so Goddamn pissed. Sure, the damages are only superficial, but if you had a brand new car it it gets dinged, wouldn't you be pretty damn irate with the world, too? I take it in its first long distance drive, the hour and a half drive to Schenectady. Fifteen minutes in, an SUV in front of me kicks up a piece from a blown out tire thats littering the highway and it smacks RIGHT into my front bumper. Not only does the entire left half have this huge black rubber mark, but the plastic lip under it cracked. That's not all. Five minutes later, I noticed the hood scoop lifting up. The genius' that put it on back in June applied it with 3M double sided tape, apparently an industry standard. It would've work if they guy that did it wasn't in a rush to go home or whateverthefuck. Anyway, I call my dad who's driving ahead of me and tell him if this thing flys up it's gonna crack my windshield. So we pull over, he gets out, and just rips the damn thing off my car! I toss it in the trunk and there's this nasty white square right on my damn hood. It doesn't end there! When we get to the place he's buying, I look at my right rear tire and find a giant NAIL in it. There's more to Schenectady, like the girls I managed to somehow attract, but I'm more pissed about my car than I'm pleased about the bitches. I'M GOING BACK TO FORD IN THE MORNING. post comment

♥ (Aug 09 2007) I GOT A NEW CAR! Okay, I know I'm about a month late on that, but finding time for writing this was impossible. It was the pinnacle of the grad party, the big surprise unveiling. Of course, I was halfway expecting it, but you just can't compare having a feeling to actually having it. I named her `Grace`, because she's .. gray. And obviously a she because all car's are she's, no matter how masculine H2's look. H2's are just zoftic women. What the hell am I even talking about? This is what happens when I don't write for weeks. The car's a blast and a half. But I noticed there was something off about it, everyone else did too. After digging through the dealership and having them dig through their records, I found out that it was a manufacturing error. It happens once in a while according to them, God knows why. Apparently every manufacturer has their errors. Fortunately it's nothing bad. The front end is 1.75 inches shorter than any other Mustang, which actually makes it look bulkier coupled with the hood scoop. Then there's the transmission which has first through third gear shifting quick and boosts when it's over 60mph, so basically, the 0-60 is a few milliseconds behind, but the 60-100 is a few milliseconds ahead. In conclusion, it makes it one of the more unique factory produced `Stangs this side of .. well I really don't know what side, aside from the fact that it's one of a kind and probably worth tens of .. tensands in fifty years. And maybe one day it'll hopefully turn into a bad ass alien robot. I can only pray. So aside from that, what really happened between now and the last update? To be honest, not a lot of much. Two weekends ago I was in Brooklyn [instantly my new favorite place] for the second Guyana Day Reunion I ever attended. It was alright, not as big as last year, but not as hot either. There were plenty of girls around, but unfortunately I was constantly being cockblocked by none other than Sherry. My case of the ex happens to be the clingy type who just can't take `leave me the hell alone` for an answer. The madness continued this past weekend at Six Flags when her and her mom [along with several people I didn't know but one of which I did -- Zureena, Rich's other cousin. Sherry and her mom would introduce them to me as members of their family, AGAIN, when they really turned out to be friends or random strangers. My guess is, paid actors.] I've never wanted to knock someone out more than Sherry's mother. I swear to God, that woman would be spat out of hell because Satan'll deem her downright irritating. She made me walk through the park with her for over an hour looking for some arena when I could've been spending the time wisely and stood in line for Medusa or something. But no, my feet were killing me when I eventually found the arena. And what happened next? They called me saying THEY were lost. I stepped away for five minutes, and thats what happens. I almost threw down my phone and stomped on it. Sherry still played the prude card, too. And yet, she's been calling me twice a day everyday since Sunday and I just keep ignoring her calls. I choose not to associate with those fuckin' whackjobs anymore. I've already had my fill of it from Britalyn or whatever the poster child for schizophrenia calls herself nowadays. Just about a week ago I sent out my material to five agencies, so I'm looking forward to that. Next week I'll send out some more if I don't hear anything back from these. Thats the thing, things are a lot more difficult if you have no idea what the hell you're doing. Cheryl fell through because her contact utterly blows, and it turns out Ian's cousin, the big time casting agent out in L.A, can't do a damn thing for me on this coast unless I move out to Cali. Then there's my old friend Demitri who seems to be doing well for himself directing out in Hollywood, fresh out of Vassar. I still need to get in contact with him. He owes me a favor. Not to mention, I still need to drop a line to good `ol Nancy Saklad, the greatest acting coach this side of the Hudson. I'm sure she'll be better equipped to help me out since she knows the area. I guess I'm not really doing too bad for myself. I mean it's a start, right? At least I'm doing something with my time and not sitting around, waiting for an opportunity to hit me. There's plenty more to write, but I'm lazy now since its 1:42am and time for me to finally catch some shuteye. I'm gettin' old. post comment

♥ (Jun 27 2007) ``To his peers, he is royalty. To his friends, he is king. To family, he is a monarch who rules with an iron fist. To me, his crimson cape flutters in the wind as heroically as he stands. There's a charm about him that makes him the life of a party, a certain something which sets him apart from the others. His hands held me up as I walked for the very first time. They might've been softer back then. Now they're full of wisdom and age, hardened by the long hours of hard work he'd endure to make sure I never went to bed hungry. To make sure there were clothes on my back and shelter over my head. He never sought praise, or thanks, or reward for the blood, sweat, and tears shed. And I wonder if I'll ever be too late to do so. His health sinks, his hands ache, and my heart hurts in the process. I worry. I wonder. When it's my turn to take care of him, then it'll be my hands that hold him up, it'll be my hands that'll endure the same long hours of hard work because he taught me the value of such a thing. Although his iron fist has rusted some and his cape has aged and gently tattered - he is still royalty to his peers, and king to his friends. But to me, he is my hero. He is my father.`` post comment

♥ (Jun 22 2007) ``Tom Cruise. Jim Carrey. Brad Pitt. Who's the biggest movie star on the planet? Not these Hollywood heroes. From Morocco to Malaysia, one man is worshipped by a billion people: Shahrukh Khan.`` I can't tell you how much I admire that man. How much I want to be [like] that man. ``I never want to act bigger than I am. I don't see why people should. Why should I wear dark glasses when I spent all my life trying to be recognized?`` Words to live by. For me, at least. It's something I could really relate to, especially right now, and as a person he's also someone I can relate to. Unfortunately he wasn't at the award show, and neither was Hrithik, or Priyanka, or .. well, anyone I really wanted to see. :\ Still, for my first live award show, it was amazing. More of a concert than anything. And those backup dancers? Gor-ge-ous. Even Bipasha, despite her odd fake mud complexion, looked hot [and that's saying a lot because she's usually ugly, like in the Koffee interview. Ew.] The day after, we [Me, Rhonda, Richard, Neo, Feo, Ian, and Malcolm] go bowling, which is where I lost my cellphone. Unfortunately the Jewey lady owner found it and called the house a few days later [and I was SO close to getting a new phone, too!] It closed early and there was nothing to do, so I decided we should drive into the city. Now, mind you, I've NEVER driven in Manhattan before. At least not with myself at the wheel. Ian's a natural navigator, so getting there was a snap. At 2:30am, the place was a lot less congested than usual [though, still congested] but we found a spot to park in [which wasn't easy because the truck's transmission is fucked and getting into reverse is a hot or miss. This is why I park on hills.] Anyway, that weekend was a blast, from the train ride down [and the subsequent meeting of `train girl` -- I call her that because I forgot her name] to walking in Times Square at the peak hour of Manhattan's freak show. Now I wish I could say things have returned to the usual routine, but they haven't. It's been nothing but nonstop work around here. Repainting the garage, shampooing the carpets, scrubbing mats, cleaning out closets, etc. All in preparation for the party. The big graduation party. Don't look at me, it wasn't MY idea. All the work just wears me out because I started working out again -- at least, I make a conscious effort this time. A lot of it is cardio since I reopened the pool because running on a treadmill isn't my thing. The pool's more of a full body workout, then I could go take a nap. It's Friday now, a day before the big event, and I'm sitting here at my dad's, typing away on my laptop. There's about a half hour or so left before I could close up [by myself, mind you] if this customer doesn't come. Where the hell has the time gone!? There's still much left to do. Like, vacuum the crap from the bottom of the pool, clean my room [again], and spitshine the truck until I can see myself in the once-black finish. I almost expecting this thing to be one big disaster. Telltale signs were abundant these past few weeks. For instance, I couldn't get Freddie's super hot sister, Felicia, to bartend the thing because the snotty bitch still hasn't gotten back to me [but our savior Jack put us onto this supposedly hot twenty-something with supposedly ginormous babylons who'll do it for us. I'm spending all morning with her tomorrow running around the Valley gathering up supplies. Go me! I just hope she doesn't look like a dog.] Oh, and me being here, unable to do everything I SHOULD be doing. Even if it IS a mess, it wouldn't be a total loss. Grandma and Chris already filled me in about the big surprise -- A BRAAAAND NEW CAAARRRR! [-Bob Barker] The surprise [at least to me] isn't really the car since I always had a feeling, but what KIND of car. My money's on the Mustang since spending two hours at a Ford dealership a few months ago can't be for nothing. Then again, dad keeps mentioning a G35, and I originally wanted an M3, sooo .. hell, know what? I'll be happy with anything, and I'll treasure it because it's a gift from my parents who worked their asses off to scrounge up the money. I'll be on Cribs someday and during the driveway segment I'll have it all sparkly and in its given condition. Then I'll shift the attention to my Bentley! Lol. Could time move any slower? I just told some girl that dad'll be in at 8 in the morning so she could bring her car in for an oil change and an inspection. I don't even know if dad's working tomorrow! Oh well, she wasn't very pretty anyway. Ugh, know what I'm going to have to deal with a lot of tomorrow? People going, ``Hey, did you find a job yet? Aren't you going to find one? Do you ever intending on working?`` I'm so fucking sick of hearing that. Not even my PARENTS ask me that. I'm rather comfortable where I am right now, although six months is a bit overdoing it. I just can't tell people, ``I'm gonna be an actor. Watch for me on TV or in the movies.`` They'll more than likely laugh and/or .. well, laugh, and tell me to be serious. At least the lot of them. At least -I- think so. What if it doesn't work out in the end? I'll be the laughing stock of the Jacob family! I'll be ruined! Ruuuuuined! So I'll stick to, ``I'm taking a break right now because college was hard.`` Maybe I should just tell people I'm gonna be the next Shahrukh Khan and let them figure it out. post comment

♥ (May 22 2007) There are very few milestones in a person's life. The day they're married. The day they land their first real job. The day their child is born. And the day they graduate from college. Well, those that attempt college anyway. Two days ago, I achieved the latter. The `big graduation.` I never really understood what the big deal was about graduation. I mean it just means that it's time to go out into the `real world` and get a `real job`, work ungodly hours for meager pay for a dickhead boss and be cooped up in a cubicle. Sounds like a blast. Some people don't really mind this though. They're excited. They're willing to sacrifice anything to go out there and make something of themselves. But it depresses me. Sure, my parents say that I could take as long as I want off -- a year, two years, travel the world all expenses paid. But I know that eventually, I'll end up the same place I started from. Right here. I've already spent close to six months not doing anything. Just sitting here, getting fat off my mother's constant unhealthy grocery shopping. I even stopped my workout regiment because I realized that, well, I just fucking hate working out no matter how much development I saw. And they're quick to push me into Grad School to get my masters, too. They tell everyone that I'm planning on attending somewhere or other in the Fall/Winter. I'm not. After five long years I achieved a bachelor's degree in marketing. Marketing because Accounting Studies was too hard. Marketing was a default. It was a spur of the moment thing because I was standing there at my high school graduation wondering what the hell I wanted to do with my life. I can't tell you how much I hate business. I've never been too gung-ho about it. I mean, all I've ever been able to get in the dozen or so marketing-related classes I took was no more than a C+. Which is sad, really. I graduated with a 2.53 GPA, 2.50's the expulsion cut-off point. I never was good at anything academically. Come to think about it, there's very little that I'm good at at all. I'm really running short on support, too. Not that I need it, but it would be appreciated now and again. I could never forget what my dad told me though. ``Do you remember the birds that built the nest in our tree outside? When the babies were hatched, what'd they do? They grew feathers and they flew away. You've just grown your feathers. It's up to you to decide which direction you want to fly in. And if one of those birds fly over water and there's no branch to land on? Then it drowns. I'll be your branch for as long as you need because I don't want to see you drown. Just be wise in your decision when you choose your direction.`` That's fucking deep, albeit being twenty two years old and compared to a baby bird. I don't want to end up in some job I hate doing. I wanna act. Unfortunately I was never able to do anything theater-wise [aside from classes] at school because business classes were hard enough. I probably never would've graduated if I joined the drama club, anime club, comic book club, videogame club, varsity soccer team, environmental awareness club, and Marketing Association like I originally planned to do. But I'm over that because I most likely would've ended up killing myself -- with the workload, that is. Although an A.J Soprano-esque botched suicide attempt really being a `cry for help` on my part isn't looking so bad right about now .. I fucking hate academic overachievers. Just give me a script and put a camera in front of my face, I'm ready for my close up. Hell, not even that -- I'm willing to do community theater if it meant just getting the experience. I don't know why the fuck I'm relying on others to get anywhere. Rhonda's friend, Cheryl -- I've given her two months already and I'm still not anywhere with her. How fucking hard could it be to get in contact with the OLTL producer already!?! And Frankie's not doing his movie until November, his friend's not starting `Backtrack` until August, and I'm NOT waiting another couple months for a couple independent films. Not even a solid role, but I have to actually audition. And it's through Nalini, too! Ugh. That's aggravating. I guess that's the reality of things. I never really expected to land the role of a lifetime and be set for the rest of my life, being thrown offers left and right. Then again, I never really expected not to. I just don't really know where I am right now. Acting's been my dream since I was sixteen years old. I'm not gonna lie like most people and say `this is what I wanted to do my entire life` because the first thing any little boy wants to be is an astronaut and little girls wanna be princess' [though some still think they can be.] I put it on hold for a while so I could have something to fall back on. And that's done with. Finally. I just don't know what to do next. post comment

♥ (Mar 06 2007) After twelve straight, consecutive shots of tequila, I was SO fucked up. Fucked up enough that I was crawling up stairs, eating cake from God knows who, and I have some bruises on my face -- bruises which I don't even remember getting! Rhonda got it all on video, a video which I refuse to see. Luckily I only made an ass in front of Rhonda, Richard, Chris, and Victoria. .. I think? Oh, and mom and dad `cause I threw up in their bathroom sink, and dad tried giving me hangover remedies the morning after. And yeah, I was hurting in the morning for sure. First time I ever felt so bad after drinking. Anyhow, the party went off without a hitch. Some people didn't come, but that's okay. They're not invited to my surprise graduation party. There were plenty of people that came though, and the fact that they didn't leave hungry and/or sober just solidifies the fact that it was a good party. Dad was genuinely surprised at who showed up, so that was good. Oh, and all the working out I did in the past week? It actually paid off! People noticed. ``Damn, Moe. Is Saif bigger?`` That's what Johnny told dad. Grandpa even noticed, too. He was like, ``Looks like you need to buy larger shirts because you're starting to outgrow these.`` Of course, it could all be due to the cut of the french blue linen shirt, but I'd like to think otherwise. Unfortunately I haven't worked out since last Friday, so I really need to get in gear again. Despite all the food we made, I haven't eaten a whole lot in the past couple days. But I think there's still a heap of leftover chicken in the fridge [and it's only Tuesday so I won't die of e-coli or salmonhayek or whatever] and I reckon that's a good source of protein. Ready for the best part? Rhonda's friend showed up. She drove two hours from further north just to see me. Well, Rhonda. Rhon' didn't tell her about me, which I learned later was a good thing. Because for some reason it was the first conversation that we jumped into [acting], so maybe she saw something in me? Then her and mom started talking about the people she knew from mom's favorite soap. But in the end, I gave her my resume and pictures so she could pass onto her contacts. She told Rhonda I was `very, very handsome.` I never really understood that word. I mean is it a step above or below `cute`? What I really don' understand is that term, `that look.` I've been hearing that for years. My mom was the first to say it, then my acting coach at Dutchess, then Lilly, Chantel, Ryan, Moses, and just recently, Richard. That does a lot for my ego, but not a great deal for my acting ability. The closer I get to living the dream, the more I start to doubt myself. It's not like I have a string of pathetic high school and/or college stage productions under my belt to gloat about. What if I get there and I'm not good enough? I built myself up high enough to take a great fall. I could keep telling myself that I'm a good actor based on everyone telling me I am from short, two minute scenes I did in acting classes, but am I really? I guess I'll find out soon. post comment

♥ (Mar 03 2007) `I had a dream since childhood. A dream to be like Papa. To walk like him, speak like him, sit like him .. To do everything the way he does. Like .. like the way he's standing right now .. like thi -- .. heh. Can't do it. I know I can't do it. And maybe I will never be able to do it because .. there's no one in this world like my Papa. I know that someone up there is happy with me to have bestowed on me the right to say that I am Imtiaz Jacob's son. To say it proudly. Thank you, dad, and Happy Birthday.` post comment

♥ (Feb 28 2007) So this Saturday is dad's 50th birthday, and it wasn't too long ago [three days ago, actually] that mom and I hatched a plan to throw him a surprise party. I been put in charge of pretty much everything, from the alcohol, to the music, to the guest list. A lot of the `usuals` aren't invited, 'cause we really don't care about them. But I'm sure he'll be happy to see the fresh faces. Fresh faces meaning people who have yet to grace Jacob Manor [<< me embellishing artfully] with their presence. Even uncle Manny's coming up from Florida [coincidentally since his son, Ashan broke his collar bone.] Out of all of grandpa's half- and step-siblings, uncle Manny has to be my favorite. He's less .. religiously fanatical than the rest of them. Which is good, because I plan on drinking Saturday night. Anyhow, as exhausting as party planning is, it's pretty fun. But that's not the only reason why I'm drained at the end of the day. I really took to cardio. Like, incredibly hardcore cardio. I work out with Cathe Friedrich, Gilad, and this possibly gay black guy. Of course, these are all FitTV personalities on the telly and I clear the downstairs livingroom to look like an ass for a few hours. Fortunately there's no one here to confirm that I do, in fact, look like an ass trying to keep up with the bendy, flexy woman on screen. But it's really, really been working. Everything from intense aerobic-things to yoga[-lates. Because according to the programming guide, it's yoga + pilates.] Today alone I was at it for four hours, two of cardio, two of weights. With the inadvertent weight gain [note: not ENTIRELY fat, but plenty of protein weight] from my metabolism slowing down, the bulk actually helped. It looks like I'm working towards this Gerard-Butler-in-300 look. So why all this working out? Why now? Usually when I work out a few weeks ahead of something is that there's some big event coming up. Like the last time I did this [and added considerable size before I lost it due to lazyness], I was meeting Sherry for the first time. That was like, what, a year ago? Partially it's so I could look good in this shirt I bought for Saturday, BUT **big news alert** it's also because I'm gonna be checked out. Let me explain. Rhonda's friend from Schenectady has connections with the cast and production team from All My Children/One Life to Live/General Hospital, and Rhonda's gonna ask her if she could come down on Saturday to the party. She had told Rhonda she'll take her on the set one day and now she could take us both. That is, if she says I'm screen material [according to Professor Saklad and my coach at DCC, and Lilly, I was made for it! << me being needlessly cocky] I'll have a meeting with the casting director and whatnot and from there, well, we'll see where it goes from there. But right now, I need to figure out where to hide seven cases of Corona. 47 comments|post comment

♥ (Feb 25 2007) As I sit here, in my underwear, watching the Oscars in between running to the bench every few minutes for a set of [painful] incline crunches, I started thinking. More, reflecting. Actually, either-or, I don't think there's a different. I don't remember if it was during DiCaprio and Gore's treehugging or Ben Affleck's head floating on stage to present that I fully realized what I wanted to do. Ultimately, I know that that's where I want to be. The Oscars. And I set a goal, a time span. Within the next two Oscars, I'll be there. Nominated within three, win within four. Now when I say `within,` that could be anytime before the maximum. I know how presumptuous that sounds, but I honestly never saw it like that. It's more confidence. My ability to have the opposite of something I want to happen, happen, after thinking about it too much, discouragingly enough, still doesn't cancel out the fact that it's something that I REALLY want, something I want more than anything. How will I get there? That's the [multi-]million dollar question, isn't it? I wanna play it smart. I look at what other actors have done, and where their career is right now and I realized there's certain things I could do to avoid the pitfalls of joining the ranks of the mediocre. Like the two potential projects I have in the works [which I have to admit, this whole waiting process is a killer], to the step-up soap, I'll never regret these early roles. Gotta start somewhere, right? I already figured out I can't be like one of those people who get `discovered` randomly. It's not like I go to Manhattan frequently enough to walk around and look pretty. I can't tell you how much I was interested in the role of the Prince in the Prince of Persia movie that up until a couple months ago, was just an idea. Then all of a sudden, Jerry Bruckheimer's on board, Disney's producing, and it became mild speculation that some Australian cat was cast as the Prince. Of Persia. At first, I thought that it could've been my launching pad. My Titanic, my Spider-Man, my Aquaman [like the Vinny Chase before me.] I wanted to rush out and get an agent, convince him/her to get me an audition and then pray to high Heaven my phone rings afterwards. Then soon as I heard Disney was in the mix, I almost shot myself in the foot. Disney wants to turn it into their next franchise cash cow after Depp wraps the Pirates trilogy. And three PoP games in the series just makes sense since Bruckheimer's flick is `The Sands of Time,` the first. Where would that have left me? The last thing I want to do is end up like that gay Harry Potter kid. Has he done ANYTHING else? I don't want to be seen as `that guy that did that one thing.` I believe in diversifying myself. I want to reach those Oscar heights. Sure, this could be a monumental career boo-boo. But, whatever. It's not about money, it's about notoriety. If Nalini's cousin, Frankie, the director, says he has a role in mind for me when he get back from filming in Guyana, I'll more than likely do it for nothing. I think that at this point, experience is worth more to me than gold. And in order to be truly great, there's certain qualities I need to garner and certain standards I need to set. post comment

♥ (Feb 16 2007) I been meaning to write down this one for a while, but the words just never came to me. Bits and pieces, sure, but nothing to sound coherent enough. I guess it still doesn't, but the only way to find out is to just let it out, so .. Her name's Sherry. And she broke my heart. But I don't want to sound like some grieving old widow when I say that, which is why I never used that exact phrase. But what else can you say? A year didn't mean anything to her. Neither did a couple dates, and me calling her every other night, especially when I was in GA and it was hard as hell to make a phone call because Jay and Emma's house was crowded with consistent visitors, so I had to go out to my truck to call her. Though I guess, now that I had a lot of time to think about it, it's my fault too. During the whole year, I wasn't very committal. I played it Bruce Wayne-style, subconsciously. But I was afraid of taking our relationship to the next level, and then moving, far, far away from her .. See? I told you it wasn't going to be coherent. I didn't even get into what happened between us. Okay, so it was after we got back from GA and Canada, auntie Ionese invited us to this Guyanese Day Carnival that was at some park in Queens. This was a pretty big weekend, because the Saturday evening before, me and my cousin Rhonda went on a double date to Coney Island. Rhon was with her boyfriend, Richard, and Richard and Sherry are cousins [I met her through him.] And as I attempted to get closer to her during the moments I stole alone with her, I noticed she wasn't going the other 50% of the way [or according to Hitch, she comes 90, I come 10. Though that didn't happen either.] Anyway, I brushed it off and enjoyed the rest of the night. Harmless, right? Until I discovered why she was being so reserved. Fast forward to the Carnival. When we were arriving, I was so hopeful because I knew I'd get to see her again. Maybe I'd be able to tell her how I feel, you know? So when we finally reached, I waited about two hours. Sherry shows up with her mom. My heart skips a beat, as gay as that sounds. I remember it doing so, too. She looked amazing. That's the thing about her, we may not have much in common, like she doesn't watch the same TV shows as I do, doesn't like the same [Hollywood] movies as I do .. but she's gorgeous. Dad often compares her to Amrita Rao, and no one can deny that resemblance [which is why I don't like watching Amrita's movies] It wasn't long until the relationship turned sour. That's when she got a phone call, from a ` friend,` she said. So her and I went to go and wait in the parking lot for her `friend` to show up. And he did, with two of his friends. So, I'm like, `That's cool. She has her friends, I have friends too.` And her `friend` didn't really turn out to be such a bad guy. We talked about Schenectady and `The Great Coolie Migration` for a minute, before they walked off altogether and I decided to sit that one out. I trailed behind them for a bit, said I'll catch up. I knew something was up. After paying Neo a visit at the truck since he was bored, I went to go find them again. They were hovering around my camp, since her mom was part of the oversized entourage. Upon seeing that tall, lanky stringbean of a guy she called her `friend,` questions arose. My mom asked me if that was her boyfriend, Rhonda asked me the same thing. I grew irritated, dejected even, so Damu [family friend, could call him a cousin. Him and his brother and sister used to babysit me back in Guyana. Mostly him though. Now it's I that can carry him. How's that for irony?] offers me a Corona. Shamelessly, I pulled the cap off with Herculean strength and stood right near Sherry to take a big swig. She looked horrified that I was drinking, and to me alone, she asked if it was a habit of mine. So playing it cool in a very James Dean fashion, I shrugged my shoulders and didn't reply to her with a single word. But I couldn't keep that up for long. Her and I were talking again, and I gave her and her `friend` ample space. So then she pulls me aside. She tells me that that's not her `friend,` but a `guy she was seeing.` Her boyfriend. I broke down in tears. .. On the inside! On the outside, I shrugged it off, and very non-confrontationally, said ``That's cool.`` And she asked if I was mad. The nerve! Of course I was mad! I already planned my entire life out with her! Married when she's done with med school, start on crankin' out babies right away, mooch off her like Kevin Federline, and maybe buy an island or two. Okay, not really. But I think I might've fallen for her. Up until then, that is. After the Carnival, my parents treated Rhonda's parents, Richard's dad, and Sherry and her mom out to dinner. Guess where I had to sit? Yeah. You could guess it was damn awkward. I could tell she was uncomfortable too, since after she told me about the guy, I started to keep my distance. Dinner ended quick and we were driving back to Rhonda's, Sherry said to keep in touch. Did I? No. Auntie Ionese keeps reminding me she's stupid for doing what she did to me. Lead me on, turned me into `the other guy.` Regardless, my parents still adore her. They keep encouraging me to see her again. So one night, my mom kept telling me over and over to call her, to clear the air. So I do. Mom was right there making sure I spoke to her, too! I guess she was being that way because of the way I was the days after we got back. Hollow. Empty. It was around 7pm when I called. She answered, and we talked for a little. VERY little, since I didn't have anything to say, but she kept apologizing. But at least I showed my mom that I could've handled the situation like a man. I didn't piss and moan. Mom leaves, and Sherry tells me to call back in an hour because she's going to take a shower. I call back, and who answers? Her mom. My God. That was excruciating. ``Sherry has a lot of friends, Saif.`` Translation? `Sherry's kind of a slut, Saif.` Okay, she isn't. She's a good girl. But she looked like a whore in front of my entire family. She gets on the phone again, and we didn't get off until 6am. That's an eleven hour phone call. Naturally I think that everything's alright. But everything was different after that. I kept harboring these ill-feelings. And a couple weeks ago, after months of no communication whatsoever [no text messages, no phone calls, no visiting -- I was supposed to spend New Years Eve in Manhattan with her, but I decided against it], she calls me. And I come to find out her boyfriend cheated on her. And you know what I did? Shrugged it off and hung up. But I don't hate her. That doesn't mean that I entirely forgive her, but as gorgeous as she is, I don't want her. And for a long time I thought about why I felt the way I did. Couldn't be money, since her and her mom `lacked sufficient funds` and lived alone in a one bedroom apartment. And, well, I have money. So the poor girl/.. financially sound guy thing never even factored into it. So then I thought that it might've been because we have barely anything in common. But that's not a big deal, really. So then I thought, what if I think she might not be pretty enough? But looks mean nothing to me. Seriously. Personality > Looks. That, and, well, she's a knockout. Then I came to the conclusion that I'm cursed. That has to be it. Drita, Yvonne [EVERYONE knew about Yvonne], Brittany, Rani. Rani was actually a sure thing in a way, because her friends wanted me to take her to prom, and my friends tried to set it up, too, so I could get over Yvonne. Unfortunately, I was too hooked, and I passed Rani up. And she was beautiful. But I let her go as easily as I let Sherry go. And since then, I noticed something else. Only the chick I'm not interested in are attracted to me. And the chicks I am interested in? One of two things, either they don't return the favor, or they turn out to be huge skanks [like Michelle, Karen, .. Brittany. etc] and I lose interest. But you know what? I believe in fate. I believe everything happens for a reason. And sure, that might mean that there's no free will, but that whole bit is widely open for interpretation, I'm sure someone could spin something about there actually being freedom in there. << That's besides the point. Anyway, I think that all those other girls? They're just stepping stones. Just distractions. Holding me back from who I'm meant to be with. So when the smoke clears, she'll be standing there. She'll be perfect. And she'll be mine. post comment

♥ (Feb 01 2007) Turtle: Look, alright, Vince'll be a star no matter what. It's pre-destined, alright? The kid's a triple threat. He's got the look, he's got the talent, and he's got the head. Eric: The what? Turtle: The head, the big head? You guy's tellin' me you don't know this? The bigger the head, the bigger the star. Eric: You're such an idiot. Turtle: Bruce Willis? Big head. Russell Crowe? Big head. Arnold Schwarzenegger? Big head. Vincent Chase? Big, big head. - Entourage, HBO. I have a HUGE head! Okay, nothing to brag about, but still. I think I have a bigger head than Ben Affleck [and that's a huge feat.] Kinda boosts my star quality, huh? I got up this morning and I can't tell you how nervous I was, because I knew this was the day. February 1st. The casting director said to call back in February and 10am on the dot, I called. But things actually went smoothly. I was instructed to get together headshots and a resume and mail it in. I'm scheduled for headshots tomorrow morning, so I'm about to go get a haircut so I'd look less mountain man and more prettied up. As for the resume, well .. I haven't quite figured that one out yet. It's not like Saklad taught this in Acting 101 [because we spent a lot of time pretending we were trapped in clay and dryhumping chairs.] post comment

♥ (Dec 26 2006) I'm gonna be in a movie! Okay, before I orgasm due to the falsities I built in my head, I need to sort it out first. There was an article written in the `Caribbean New Yorker` a few days back that reports on a film some guy named Ram Jodha's making on the Massacre of the People's Temple. According to the article: ``The film will show a state within a state of how Jonestown operated without the full knowledge of the complete Government and its people. Filming will be done in Guyana, and the U.S.A, cast will be Guyanese and Americans, Indians. The film will be co-produced by Hollywood, co-directed by a Hollywood heavyweight, and include many of Hollywood big names, with a few from Bollywood. The budget of this film is expected to be in the millions.`` Then there's a number at the bottom for more information. I was nervous to call, I mean this is something I really, really want to do, but it's a first for me. So, hesitantly, I picked up the phone, called the number, and I heard a man's voice. I wondered if it was Mr. Jodha himself, but I didn't ask. He asked if I acted before, and in a heartbeat I said `yes.` So he says to call back in February and he'll be able to give me everything I need to know, auditioning-wise, since everything's pretty much on the ground floor now. Imagine that! ME! I'm done with college, and I wanted to get headshots taken and start going to the networks/finding agents within the next couple weeks, but this is my sign! When mom showed me it in the newspaper, I knew it was something I had to do. That, and it's so close to home for me. I have at least a month to get in shape and cut the weight I've been putting on. I need to do some heavy cardio then work on building back muscle again. This'll be so much easier now with the Christmas present mom and dad got me -- a punching bag and boxing gloves. Actually, it was sort of a spur of the moment thing. Saturday, dad and I were driving around looking for a laptop for Neo [which, we didn't get .. so we wrote him a fake check to satisfy him for now. God help him if he actually goes to try and cash it] and he asked what I wanted for Christmas. After seeing `Rocky VI` the day before, the first thing that came out my mouth was `a punching bag.` And BAM, I got a punching bag on Christmas morning. Weird, huh? I also got PS3 money, but I'll wait until it comes out with better games. Some people tell me that I should be out looking for a job, since I'm twenty two and done with school, but .. To be honest, I never seen myself in the position I studied for. I'm a dreamer. Besides, marketing's my major and I did fairly well in everything but marketing. It was Professor Saklad's acting class that I excelled in. She even told me herself that I should look into film acting, which as pretttty much the highlight of my year. Besides, I'll be busy for the next few months as is. One would think I'm here sitting on my ass all day, playing video games and wasting time, but no. Dad's opening the new shop early next month, so we're working around the clock getting things in order. Tomorrow, I have to go and assemble mom's desk and pack up the 50 tires he ordered on the overhead racks. See? I'm glad the new shop's a five minute drive from home now, although they sacrificed the space the old shop had. But space doesn't matter if you know how to make money, and my dad knows how to make money. I think that's probably why we have jillions of dollars in reserve somewhere in some Swiss bank account, like mobsters and international conmen do it. Dad hasn't been working in the past five months, but we haven't struggled a day. We live like kings still .. I thought we'd stop going out to dinner every Saturday night, cut down on groceries, throw no parties .. but no. They spend pretty extravagantly. Granted, I haven't made the usual allowance, but I'm fine with that. It's not like I spend money all the time anyway. I have nothing to buy! I calculated it though, everything from the sale of the last shop, to the tools, to the savings .. We're sitting on close to a million dollars. Which isn't any reason to go spend like it's your last day on earth, but I think they're confident they'll make it back. The shop's being rented for pretty much nothing. And five minutes in the other direction of home, he's buying another shop. This one needs minor work on it, blacktop and fencing. It's a beauty, and a steal at less that 200k. They plan on not using it though, but renting it out instead. That money'll go to the other shop's rent and the house mortgage. And he's using the lot to host the dealership. So I'll be going to the auctions again -- something I never get tired of. Mom has this crazy idea of rebuilding the house. Not completely, more adding on. An architects coming in next month to draw up the plans. She wants to raise the roof and add on another floor, put all the bedrooms up there with a theater room. The free space on the second floor's gonna be a gigantic kitchen, living room, and dining room, and probably something else. The entire west wall of the second floor is being taken out and opened up to the pool out back. The entire pool is going to be encased in glass and the pool house is being torn down so all that space will be encased, too. So we'll be able to swim in the winter time and use the free space as a cabana of some sort with the pool table since dad's rebuilding his bar there, in a different style than it is now. I think the first floor's going to be a gym or something. Whatever it is, it's not mine anymore. So I'll be getting myself a new room .. which I took the liberty of drawing up my own plans for. But mom says that if I put in a king sized water bed, fireplace, roman pillars, a statue of Abe Lincoln, and a water slider directly to the pool, I won't have any space to move. Ha! I'll figure something out. I have a busy day ahead of me tomorrow. Since it's too early to sleep, I think I'll .. do some writing .. watch a movie .. play video games .. Hm. post comment

♥ (Dec 21 2006) She's the only person that's been truly able to get under my skin. And I don't even know why. It might be this song that I've been listening to over and over [damn you, James Blunt] but I still feel remorseful. ``You're what, twenty five? Living at home, careerless, friendless ..`` Twenty two, actually. And living at home is somewhat of a cultural thing. See, we're not forced out into the world at eighteen years old. We, like I, always had the option to go. But I wondered if I had gone, what would've happened to my parents? They might've already been dead by now. With my fathers cancer and my brothers at that `rebellious` stage in their life, there's only so much that my mother could've handled. Without me here, she'd be forced to stay home everyday. Dad can't operate the business by himself. I took care of them. When I was younger, I had every thing I ever wanted. I asked for something and it was mine. I was the prince of my household. If I wanted, I could still ask today, albeit a little harder but I'd still get it. So how could I possibly leave people like that? It'd be selfish of me to do so. And I remind my brothers every day that it's a circle. We're put on the earth and our parents take care of us, and later on in their old age, we take care of them. I'm not speaking for everyone though. Some people have parents that're just big assholes. But mine've always been good to me. Patient, supportive, caring. At least I'm able to justify myself, unlike somebody. ``We are not friends. We are nothing. Got it?`` Yeah. I got it. I get that you're the selfish one. See, I spent a long time mulling over things, feeling bad about myself. I started to believe that I might actually not `have any good in me.` < Her words. But earlier today, I gave James a ring, been meaning to get back to him since forever but I've been busy. The timing was just right, I guess. I realized that none of it is my fault. It's hers. Which, I always knew, but now I understood. ``You'll never change, Saif.`` Of course not! You can't polish charm, it'll just shine the same way. She may not remember, but once upon a time, we were in fact, friends. And she liked m -- well, it was a two-way street. And if she liked me then, then why do I need to change? I'll tell you why: She changed. She's not the same person she was anymore. Something happened along the way, and I never lost interest, but I'll put the blame on myself for not prying as much as I should have to prove that I was, in fact, interested in her life. But now she's `college girl supreme.` They say college changes a person. That and jail/religion. Maybe she was imprisoned over the summer and converted to Islam like 90% of all prison inmates? Whatever, man. I'm over it. If I'm suddenly not `real` to her, then she'll never exist to me either. Okay, that's a lie but it makes me feel better. Not like I already don't. It's not denial. She's full of denial for the both of us. In the end, though, I don't hate her as much as she hates me. I don't hate her at all. I was just mad for a while, then confused, then hurt, but better now. We'll probably never speak to one another again, and although I'll have a hard time with it at first, I'm sure it'll only get easier as time goes on. I mean it's not like we've been chattin' it up in the past few months anyway. That just makes it that much easier. But I hope she's happy, not just with her decision, but wherever she goes from here. post comment

♥ (Dec 03 2006) I would have loved to live the `charmed life.` No, not the type of life characterized by wealth. My parents are already in a good financial position. No, not that. Instead, a life characterized by personal achievement. I'd have love to have been the stereotypical high school all star. Good grades, football or basketball MVP, tall and muscular, with the gorgeous cheerleader girlfriend. The kind of guy that makes heads turn, the kind of guy that had this sorta thing where everyone wanted to be his friend. Instead, I was always the opposite. Hell, I could've turned it all around. Just wish I hadn't ran away from sports that one day. I never became the star of anything. Never got good grades. Never had a lot of friends. Never had the gorgeous cheerleader girlfriend. Never really achieved a great deal of things. But that's okay. I never regretted anything. Because I have a family that loves me. I have people that support me. I have people that I can call friends more than acquaintances. I have a roof over my head, and clothes on my back. I'm never bored. Every day that I wake up, I try my hardest. I try to change not just my world, but your world too. And you know what? In the process, I realized something: I live a pretty damn charmed life. post comment

♥ (Nov 25 2006) This I must see [Dhoom 2.] Opens this weekend, DVD two weeks after that. </b></b></p> Onie's over with those two annoying kids. Justin keeps punching me in the face. If he wasn't six, i'd hold his head underwater and not let him up. His parents thinks it's `cute.` I think he's `retarded.` I hope I wasn't that goofy when I was six. Fortunately they went to Big Pops down in Queens today and they'll be back tomorrow. So it gives me all day to sit around and do nothing in peace. I really should be doing something proactive. Like starting the Daewoo SWOT analysis and history report for the presentation on Thursday. Eh, I have time. At least it's not the whole enviornmental analysis like last time. I think Jeff's doing that part this time. Or Sadaf. At least it's not me. Wei couldn't stop asking me questions when I did it last time for .. hm .. what was the name of the .. Sun Life, that's it. This class is more of a pain than I thought it would be. I think I'll just go watch more of Lost until I fall asleep again. I deserve a break. post comment

♥ (Aug 30 2006) Fever. I was going to originally call this `Home`, since it feels so damn good to finally be back home, but that's long overdue. Fever. I feel horrible. I should've known better than to walk around looking for a building that wasn't on the campus map without an umbrella or hat on, or something. Just my Flash t-shirt and the sky above me. Unfortunately those skies were filled with storm. That lead me here, in my room against my parents wishes who want me to sleep upstairs for the night `cause .. well, I really have no idea. But -- being too much of an asshole to let me be. If it wasn't for the Theraflu I'd be in bed right now, wasting away helplessly. 103 degrees is what the thermometer said. My skin, my face, my ears -- even the hair on my forearms are on fire right now. God, I can't stand the heat at all. It's killin' me. There's so much to write about. Like the trip to Georgia, the weekend in Canada, first day of college -- my absolute hate for school. But that's for another time. A time when I'm not blowing my nose on --'s shirt that's in the laundry because it's soft, a time when I could actually understand what I'm writing. Like tomorrow. Fever's never last long with me. post comment

♥ (Jul 07 2006) Expectations. We all have them. Some small enough to happen, some too big and lets us down. Expectations become routine sometimes, so routine that you can't even tell the difference. I have tons of them. My entire life is one big expectation. Not that I'm `waiting to live` or anything, but I'm always expecting something. And sometimes I'm let down, too. Like tonight, I expected to go out [usually 'going out' for me means going to the movies, or driving around aimlessly], but Jason decided he wanted to go to the club with his friends. Teen night. I never understood clubs, probably because I can't/won't dance in public. I never really go out alone when I do happen to go out, he usually comes with me. I'd take Dylan but no matter where he is, he automatically drops asleep. Good thing we ditched him last night when we went to see PoTC: Dead Man's Chest. I expected no one to be there since this is a pretty small town as is and it's a late night deal, but I couldn't have been more wrong. 500 seats were sold out four hours before we got there. I've never heard of that before in my life. Luckily we went in at the right moment and grabbed two tickets from the booth that two people gave back and left. I wonder why they left in the first place? Maybe they left the iron on. Good movie. But I have to honestly say my expectations were low for Superman Returns and Routh. Turned out to be fantastic -- I was going to see it tonight since I found a free ticket to it in the season three Lois & Clark set. Which I picked up at 2:30am at Wal-Mart this morning after Pirates. I don't just like to drive around aimlessly, I also go to the most pointless places. You know, the good guys always wanna be like Superman. Sure, he's someone to look up to, he represents al the goodness in the world. But I rather be Clark Kent. And sometimes, I remind myself of him. See, Clark's always been close to his parents, through thick and thin. Growing up in this small town, he did pretty much everything they asked. They never told him to do anything, they asked, and he did it. My parents never tell me to do anything -- they don't even need to ask since I tend to do. In the last two weeks I've put more work into the house than anyone else. My brothers are lazy, and our folks are getting old, they're not strong like they used to be anymore. So a lot of stuff really falls on me when they're at work. But I don't mind. I found that I actually like doing things around here. When I was a kid, I saw my dad as Superman. And I still do. He's my hero. I always expected him to live forever. To outlive us all. I even wondered if he was a meta sometimes -- if he could have actually be Superman. But Superman never got sick. Not unless he's been exposed to kryptonite. My dad's kryptonite is disease. Wow, I can't even type that without breaking down. Mom thought that his thyroids were acting up again. He's been battling thyroid cancer for the past three years. When we first noticed it, he went from 210 pounds to 115. We didn't know what was wrong with him. When we found out and he started taking the medication to deal with it, he got consistently better, but with the side-effect of flipping his shit at the smallest thing. Like when one of his employees, Allen, would do something stupid [99.9% of the time. The only reason Allen still has a job is because he's my dad's cousin], dad would go off on him for hours and fume about it even longer. But mom noticed that he was starting to lose weight again. So she took him to the doctor the other day and the doctor said his thyroids were only slightly hyperactive, dad threw off just two pounds [I don't know how mom saw that, I didn't even notice] but his blood pressure is higher than normal. So what'd the doctor do? Prescribe him medication to lower his blood pressure. Okay. Now, I'm no doctor or anything, but prescribing medication that helps him but slaps him with a red hot temper which I figure raises blood pressure then giving him something to lower it .. what's the point? What's next? Dad never was one for medication. It wasn't until his friend Troy died from the same disease two months after dad was diagnosed with it that he started to use whatever was prescribed. Troy used to take the same medication, and was okay for a while until he started losing weight again .. Oh God. Don't take my father. He's only 49. He's too young. He's not ready. Don't take my Superman away from me. post comment

♥ (Jun 16 2006) Fear. Everyone experiences it at one point or another. It’s undeniable. But when fears turn into reality, the fear eventually melts away and it becomes a memory. A bad memory. I have fears, you have fears, we all have fears. But lets get back to mine. I fear losing my parents. One or both. The other day they were driving down Kramer, it’s the shortcut to get home from Rt. 44 instead of going down 55 and all the way down Overlook. It was raining that day, and they were in my truck when it happened – or so they narrate. The truck went on its side, nearly tipped right over but my dad, being as incredibly driving savvy as he is, managed to get it back down on two wheels. The fear almost became a memory. Of course I have other fears. I’m afraid the house might be swamped by zombies. Like, they’re outside waiting to break in and there’s nowhere else to go. Night Of The Living Dead screwed me up for life. My brother took a few of his finals today. I’m afraid he won’t pass them and go to college. I’m afraid of moving away. I’m afraid of the change even though by now I should be use to it. I’m afraid of not being good enough at anything I do. Four years ago I was afraid of high school. But now? Now it’s just a memory. Not a great memory, just a memory. Graduation came and went, the hype was meaningless. Attendees were mom, dad, Dylan, Jason, and my uncle Clyde. Now, dad doesn't like uncle Clyde. Come to think of it, dad doesn't like any of mom's family. Now, I don't know how common that is, but it was enough for dad to walk out and stand in the lobby for half the ceremony. Unprovoked. Does that make him afraid? Of course not. But i'll tell you what he is afraid of. My dad's naturally paranoid. I honestly don't know how it came about. Uncle Clyde's story is, he killed a man in Texas. Okay, not really a man. During a heated argument, he stabbed his wife, then fled the state. My mom welcomed him with open arms, and he lived with us for a while. He did a lot of stuff around here, but my dad always kept an eye on him. He might've been afraid of him then. But his paranoia extends far beyond that. He's afraid of going into Manhattan. He's scared to death of another terrorist attack on the city, and with everything going on now -- metahumans trying to make a point by pulling the outrageous? I don't think he'll go to the city unless he absolutely has to. Last Friday's blackout just made his paranoia even worse. At least I voluntarily chose to skip prom. Otherwise, what would have I done instead? Run around in the dark and give my dad a heart attack? I don't think so. post comment

♥ (Jun 08 2006) Sometimes we can’t stand our routines, we try to find every possible way to break free from it. Sometimes, no matter the cost. I never really understood why. But then I guess the comfort level of different for everyone. I have a routine. It’s not that much different than from school days. I can’t even call it a `summer routine.` There are factors thrown in there that doesn’t make it seem like a routine though. It’s basically this – sit around and do nothing, do some work in the house when my mom calls, take a nap because it usually wears me out, wake up to help mom in the kitchen and alternate between helping dad in the yard, dinner, stay up all night playing videogames or watching movies, then sleeping to wake up around noon. Oh, and shower inbetween doing things. It’s not as bad as it seems, really. I’m comfortable with it. Unlike most people, I don’t get bored or tired of my routine. Besides, what else is there to do in Poughkeepsie? Not like I have a great deal of friends around here. The loner in me prohibits it. I don’t go down to my dad’s shop because there’s absolutely no routine there. Not for me at least. Well, maybe except go to Poppy’s Deli every morning for a `Hungry Man Special,` watch morning talkshows, go through a couple magazines until I get tired of absorbing all the needless information, then taking a nap. That aside, I’ve never been more physically exhausted in my life. I thought it was bad yesterday, it’s ten times worse today. During the storm yesterday, a tree limb fell from the gigantic tree in the front yard. I should’ve taken a picture of it with my new camera but I completely forgot. From the time my dad came home, it was right to work. I would’ve done it sooner, but he said to not go there. People die from tree limbs falling on them all the time apparently. He took the chainsaw he stole borrowed from someone [he just brings all this equipment home – we have three lawnmowers and two weedwackers in the garage] and I had the machete, hacking away. The limb wouldn’t budge no matter how much we pulled. Joe’s dad was coming around at the same time. I swear, that guy must have alcohol in his veins. He’s never sober, or seems like it. And when he talks? It’s like gibberish. He’s Albanian, but that’s really no excuse. I don’t even know why he’s trying to be all buddy-buddy with my dad. I guess he’s thinking about buying another car and wants the mechanic to accompany him. First, we tried tying the rope to the back of my dads truck, the Dakota. I manned the truck and when he said `Go!` I went. Unfortunately, the rope snapped. Or loosened. Let’s face it, my dad’s not a boyscout. Joe’s dad [we either forgot or never got his name] insisted we tie it to the back of his truck, an older Nissan pickup. I’ll never forget what happened next for as long as I live. The truck pulled, and pulled, and pulled .. until it almost did a 360 out of strain. The wheels were pretty much sliding on the wet ground, and not forward – but left to right instead. Then it gave out eventually and we went right back to cutting. Joe’s dad took our chainsaw and he tried but the tracks were stuck, so he went to go get his and brought Dave back with him. Dave’s eleven, so him being there was pointless. Dylan’s eleven but he could eat Dave for breakfast. Anyway, his chainsaw worked on the limb like a hot knife through butter and cut it up into about seven chunks, then they left. Dad said he’d lift the limbs into the back of the truck and told me to work on the box after the limb detached and fell onto my moms flower box and broke one of the wooden restraint boards. My dad’s 48 – strong as an ox, but his health isn’t at its best. Being the good son, I alleviated the workload when I started lugging the pieces. They were about four feet long and weighed over fifty pounds each if I’m guessin’ right. They were heavy. He doubted I could lift one of them. I’m about three inches shorter than him and not as big. I sure showed him when I lifted the entire limb up before Joe’s dad cut it into pieces. He said I was strong. But that’s not the first time I did something seemingly impossible. The day before, me, Dylan, Jason, and Dylan’s little friend Patrick took the cover off the pool and brought it into the driveway to wash off. It was a four man job – the thing was heavy. We washed it off and folded it up. When my folks got home, mom told us to take it in the backyard and put it in the shed. Matt – Pat’s older brother, and Jason were struggling to pick it up. They barely lifted it an inch off the ground then gave up. Now, Jason works out. More than me. And he’s vain about his body to boot. But I picked up that folded tarp with ease, threw it over my shoulder, climbed the stairs to get to the back, walked the sixty feet and put it in the shed. Back to the tree. I hacked away at the limbs like a madman. I must’ve been a samurai in a past life. It took three hours in all. Jason claimed to have a cold so he didn’t do anything. He got yelled at it for it. I can’t believe he’ll be a senior this year. Well, first year senior because he’s not very bright. Dylan actually helped a lot more. My guess is he must want something for it. Me and him fixed the gutters. And when I got back inside, I could barely walk. I woke up this morning and I could barely move. It hurt to turn over. It’s not THAT bad. Know what time I got up though? Noon. Well, that’s when I actually got off the bed and went to start on the pool. I still can’t see the bottom yet. It’s supposed to be clear and blue, all I see is the ugliest shade of green. The pump started with ease though and the fuse didn’t even trip. I’m crossing my fingers. So now all that’s left to do is the laundry, clean my room, and fill out these passport applications. We’re going to Georgia, I don’t really think we need passports. And prom’s tomorrow. Of course, I’m not going. I should’ve asked . .no, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’ll be down in the city this weekend anyway at my aunt’s house. It’s about the size of my garage. I don’t even know where we’ll sleep. But I guess that’s all in the routine. post comment