Dwelling is Bad

So for the last couple of weeks, I had some cousins visiting from Venezuela. While they were visiting, we had some good laughs and some good times. I was sort of in charge of showing them around town and attempting to cover most of the sites this great city has to offer. I mean, what else could we do? They had never seen New York and I had not seen them in over ten years.

Needless to say, they were awe struck with the enormity of our buildings. They were dazzled with the lights of Time Square. They were confused with the extensive subways but they had a great time. Towards the end of their trip, they invited the entire family to dinner. Sort of a going away dinner in which we would talk about how much fun we had seeing them and maybe take a few pictures to keep as memories. You know the whole deal.

They overlooked one tiny fact. They scheduled the dinner for Friday five p.m. And on Fridays, I’m stuck in school until 6 p.m. Not only did I come out late, but my commute to my house is about an hour.

After getting out of class, I called my family to see whether or not they had gone to dinner. To my surprise, they said no, that they were waiting for me to get home so we could all go together.

I thought to myself, cool. Hopefully my commute wouldn’t be so bad and I could get home to spend some quality time with my family. I was really looking forward to it.

The stars seemed to be aligned for me that day since the bus was good and ready to pick me up as soon as I got to the station. When I got to the subway, both trains were waiting for me as if they had been instructed to do so. I got home in record time. The trip took me less forty minutes.

As I approached the house, I congratulated myself on a job well done and for being so lucky. I almost literally patted myself on the back. I opened the front door and my dog Sonny was there to greet me. As I was petting him, I realized the house was awfully silent.

Turns out they left without me. I called my mom, my sister, my brother just to ask them what was going on and why they had left after telling me that they would wait. No one answered. After a couple of stern and later angry text messages my brother finally replied with: “they just didn’t feel like waiting. Ill bring you some food thou” and that was it. For the remainder of the night, no one called me and no one messaged me.

I sat at home upset all night thinking of ways to approach them when they returned home. I thought of maybe arguing or giving them the silent treatment. I sat around, aimlessly drawing on my sketch book then vacantly watching television. Eventually I got tired of waiting for them and decided that I would just forget it and get some sleep. I figured I wouldn’t let it bother me any longer and I was only doing damage to myself by dwelling on the subject.

Later that night, after having reached a really deep sleep, they stormed into the house raising hell, laughing and stumbling their way into their bedrooms.  I awoke, remembering how angry I was at them and got up to tell them all to keep it down.

“Oh, you’re awake”, said my mom. “I forgot to save you food, isn’t that funny? HA!”

No. Not funny.

Right then and there, I sunk that last feeling of aggravation to the deepest pit of my stomach and moved on to bed. I laid down and thought how pointless it would be say anything to them at this point. No matter what I did or what I would have said could have changed what happened that night. All I could muster up was a long groan, and then a low “whatever…”

Let this be a lesson to everyone. Do not dwell on anything.

Who am I? And, Why am I writing this article?

“Who am I and why am I writing this article” is a tougher question to answer than I had expected. It has been what seems like a century since I sat down and tried to write this first entry. While I sit here, blankly staring at my monitor and while the faint murmurs of my ITunes playlist play on in the background, I think to myself: “I am a heap of confusion.”  Really the only reason this question is hard to answer is because, like most everybody else in the world, I have not yet discovered who I really am. People go through emotions and experiences that constantly change them every day. So when you think about it, we are just a collection of our experiences. But that doesn’t really answer the big question. Perhaps an easier question to answer would be “Who am I right now”. But even then I still wouldn’t know.

As of right now, I am a cluster of personality traits and hobbies that don’t necessarily define me. There is too much that I like and there is too much that I hate. I am good at many things, but it doesn’t matter. I can be placed in a group of people and relate to almost everybody, but I won’t consider myself similar to them. Hell, most times I won’t even consider taking them in as friends. But despite me not wanting new friends, I love to be social and I love meeting new people.

There is so much that I would like to do with my life, but in having so many goals I feel like I am being pulled by horses in several different directions! The more I think about this question, deeper I feel I dig myself in this cave of nonentity.

Like I said two paragraphs up, it has felt like an eternity trying to answer this question. Between this paragraph and the one right above it, I took twenty real minutes to start writing again. But within that time, I have concocted an idea. I intend on trying to find some sort of answer to this big question. As the blogs progress, I hope that I come closer to an answer. Every week I will try to experience something new in hopes of finding my true self. It can be anything from trying yoga to joining a new religion or getting a tattoo or something… all in hopes of finding who I really am.

Now that I think about it, this could make for a good blog because it will be sort of an adventure in which I could share my stories with you, the reader, and at the same time report my reaction to whatever scenario I am in.

Perhaps by next week I will have set up a schedule of things for me to try alongside my first story. I do hope that this does give me some sort of idea of who I am or at least who I am not. With that new found information, I will be that much closer to finding out who Richard Ortega really is.



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