Horcruxes Aren’t The Enemy


Well, if you haven’t already guessed it this post is about race/ethnicity and all the fun things that come along with it! But before I continue I’d like to point out that I’m not some extreme activist that considers myself mistreated in the world. I don’t join Hispanic leadership organizations, or multicultural events. For more insight on this, check out my post about Kate Hunt: Kate Hunt’s Deal and the Rest of the World.

Now that that’s clear, let’s move on. This post isn’t about the injustice in the world, it’s about the shit that people do that pisses me off. Practically my entire life, I’ve always been asked the question, “What are you?” I generally respond with, “Human,” only to receive blank stares in return. So there’s no confusion, I will explain. I am 100% Dominican. Both my parents were born in the Dominican Republic, and moved here to the U.S. when they were young, attending school here for a big part of their childhood. My parents both met in NYC, not the Dominican Republic. As for me, I was born in Boston, MA.

But most people don’t ever guess that, not that they are to blame. The comment that I get all the time, and hate the most is: “You’re black right?” Or, “Wait, you’re not black?” Or, “Oh, everyone thinks you’re black.” Or (when speaking to someone else about me), “Oh, you mean that black kid?” So that’s been my life for the past 22 years, and at this point I’ve gotten so used to it, I usually just laugh along and ignore it; but there are times where behind my smile lies a rage big enough to rip someone’s throat out.

I know what you’re thinking so let me stop you right there and explain. I am well aware that being Hispanic is not a race, and that Hispanic individuals are generally made up of multiple races (most commonly white, black, and Native American); but let’s get something clear. When someone asks me if I’m black, what they’re really asking is if I’m African American…which I’m not. It’s not like by saying, “You’re black right?” they are actually saying, “I know you’re a Hispanic male, with a mix of multiple races that may or may not include black.” The thing is that it’s actually pretty obvious that I am a Hispanic male (and if my appearance isn’t a giveaway, my last name sure as hell is), but if you’ve lived in a predominately white neighborhood you’re entire life in which everyone’s skin is the same shade as you then I suppose I can see why everyone with a darker skin tone may seem black. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with being African American, it’s just not what I am. In fact, I’ve gotten many other confusions too such as Puerto Rican, Mexican, or Brazilian; but African American is generally the most common one.

What I think just pisses me off the most about this is that everyone seems to think it’s some kind of joke. Everyone always laughs at my expense. And I’ll hear things like, “You’re friends with a black guy?” Or, “Oh, I didn’t know you had a black friend.” Even if I was black, WHY THE FUCK DOES IT MATTER? Why do you find it so hilarious that you’re friends with a black a guy, or a Hispanic guy, or pretty much someone that doesn’t look like you? I’ve never brought a friend home, and had my parents say, “Oh, your friend is white!”…or Asian, or black, or Jewish. Why is it that society has to brand me so? If I tell you I’m Dominican, does that really tell you who I am? No. So, why can’t I just be me…why do I have to be the ‘black’ friend?

Oh, but it gets worse. I grew up living in a city my whole life, and with cities always comes a plethora of stupid, ignorant, uneducated, and ghetto people. There is nothing I hate more in this world than stupid, ignorant, uneducated, and ghetto people. So when I left from Philly to State College to go to school 4 years ago, I told myself that one day I would no longer have to surround myself with those people. But everyone once in a while I’ll encounter those type of people again who also happen to be either black or Hispanic, and what I get when I meet and talk to them is, “Boy you ain’t Hispanic, you white. You white as they come.” FOR FUCKS SAKE PEOPLE, CAN I EVER WIN…SERIOUSLY. As if it was bad enough I have white people calling me black because of the way I look, but now I have ignorant black and Hispanic people calling me white because of the way I talk, because of the way I act, because I’m educated, because of what I like. It’s like I’m stuck in this sort of limbo that is my life, in which there really is no hope for me anymore. Are there any good people left in the world, because it seems like I have yet to meet them.

The sad part is that even after reading this people just won’t understand. They’ll look at me as some over dramatic ethnic fuck who just wants to bitch about the injustices of the world. No, I just want to not think anymore that every time I meet a new person they’re giggling in their head because they just made a black friend, or judging me because I act too white. Because every time you laugh, or every time you judge it rips another piece of my soul. One day there will be nothing left, and I’ll come back and haunt you like Voldemort; only this time you’ll have ripped it so many times, you’ll never be able to find all the horcruxes.

Sorry to disappoint, but this is me and I’m not going anywhere.


Not Ramblin’ Man, But Ranting Man


I was in a particularly cheerful mood yesterday; but like all good things, it came to an end rather quickly later that evening. The reason? Who knows. But that’s the way the cookie crumbles (I actually have no idea if I used that right :/)

So yesterday I came to the realization that I’m a miserable fuck. Yes, I said it, a MISERABLE FUCK. I mean, all I do is complain about my life on Twitter, WordPress, and to my friends. Probably my co-workers too, who knows. But that’s all anyone really sees, is just how miserable I am ALL THE TIME. The simple things in life piss me off, like when I fuck up my coffee in the morning, or when I have 1846352 close-call accidents on the road because people are bad drivers, or when I make 468521 incorrect measurements at work and have to do them all over again, or when the supermarket decides to no longer sell grape tomatoes (seriously, who does that?).

Now that we’ve got that clear, let’s set a couple things straight. First and foremost, no I am not a miserable person all of the time. I don’t fucking walk into work every morning and flip everyone I come in contact with. I don’t actually throw things against a wall whenever I get a chance. I’m not that lonely fuck that sits in the corner at parties hating his life.

In fact, I’m actually a generally happy person (surprising, I know!). I try to make the best of awkward situations when I’m put in them. I try to be as productive as I can and get along rather nicely with most of my co-workers. I’m a hilarious guy, and in the right situations I can turn a dull moment into a fun one.

That is my facade. And if you deny that you have a facade, you’re lying to yourself. Because no one is 100% happy all the time. Me…I embrace my miserable side more because it’s what keeps me going. And I use things such WordPress and Twitter as my outlets. When you have that moment where all you want to do is rage at a situation, instead of seeming like a miserable fuck in front of everyone, I’ll post something on here or post something on there. So you the reader (LOL, what reader), only really every gets to see the miserable part of me because that’s what thing was intended to do (as well as my Twitter); to serve as a means of letting out my frustrations with the world, since half the time my life is just one big joke.

If you’re a friend that also gets to see my miserable side of me, you should consider that a compliment; meaning that I consider you a good enough friend to help me through the simple struggles of everyday life. I don’t need you to tell me how miserable I am, because I am well fucking aware! And I’ll say this only once to all of you: If you can’t deal with it then get the fuck out. Because I’ll continue to be the miserable fuck I want to be on my outlets, and continue to be the happy individual I am everywhere else.

Now take the amount of times I said the word ‘fuck’ in this post, and multiply it by the speed of light in a vacuum and that’s how much I’ve been raging the past 24 hours.


It’s Harder Than You Think Telling Dreams From One Another


This past weekend I went back to State College for a few days, just to relive the glory days with a few friends. Boy was that worth it. It was hands down the best weekend I’ve had all summer. So I guess you can say I was pretty happy when I came to CT Sunday night. In fact, I had every intention to get home today from work and write a post to tell you all how things are finally starting to get better for me here. Then today happened…

I haven’t been on here much over the past couple of weeks because work has finally kept me a little busier than when I started. Things weren’t actually too bad. I would have my deeds at work, then come home and relax. But as I started to get busier and busier, I began noticing how much more bored I got. I think the bad thing about it is that before I had a reason to be bored, because I didn’t have anything to do but stare at a computer screen; but now I just find myself bored of the work that I’m actually given to do. It’s sad really, and I don’t know why; but everything just seems so uninteresting now. Part of me thinks that it is because I had such a shitty first couple of weeks, that it’s just left such a bad taste in my mouth with this internship and I’m beyond the ability to find comfort in anything anymore. Who knows; but one thing that I’m absolutely sure about is that I can’t wait for this summer to be over. It’s the longest summer of my life, and I’m slowly counting down the days.

So today started out with a lack of coffee due to my stomach being really sensitive to aches the past couple of days. I have a really horrible stomach, and this happens every so often. It’s pretty much when my stomach feels like saying, “Oh, you wanted to have a good day today? LAWL JOKES!” Anyways, I’m at work at 6:30 am with no coffee, and cranky as hell. To make a long story short, the rest of my day was pretty much a plethora of really awkward, sad, and confusing situations that just made me dislike being there even more. The orange I ate for lunch ended up squirting in both of my eyes, and I spilled water on my crotch that made me look like I pissed my pants in front of all my coworkers…twice. It seems like most things that happen to me are generally my own stupid fault, but that is one of the unfortunate burdens of being me, I suppose. It’s at that point where things no longer amaze me, and quite often I find myself saying, “Why am I not surprised…”

In addition to that, ever since I got back from State College Sunday night, I’ve been having these weird dreams, without going into too much unnecessary information. Dreams that seem to tell me that I’m meant to do something. That ka has planned this out for me, and that I should act. But I can’t seem to bring myself to do so. Honestly, I think I’m just being stupid; but eventually I’ll have to figure things out.

To make matters worse, I’ve been dealing with some roommate issues lately as well. Today during my nap I had a dream that he moved out of our apartment and left me paying the full rent by myself; essentially screwing me over. It has got me thinking if I put trust in the wrong person. With my life, I wouldn’t even be surprised, hah.

So on that note, I leave you with this:

The 3 Weeks Rule and the Fate of a Jelly Spotter


June 3rd is a big day. It marks 3 weeks since I’ve made the big move up here. It’s also the day my roommate finally moves in. I’ll probably end up pulling one of these:

But in all seriousness, I have this theory called ‘the three weeks rule’. Pretty much, the end of the third week in a new situation defines how the rest of the time in that situation will be. I know some of you may think of this as silly, but it’s worked for me time and time again. So here we are at the end of the third week, and I can’t really say that much has changed. I’m still the same miserable mess I was when I moved here 3 weeks ago. This state still sucks, this community is still a ratchet wasteland, and work is still another mess entirely. I feel so cut off from everyone here, like I’m in an entirely different world. I want so desperately for things to change, but I feel like every time I find a sliver of hope, it slips away.

I find myself recently thinking about the past. Thinking about the people I want to be with. Thinking about where my future life is going. Everything seems so unclear now. And as I dive further into my past, I start realizing all the mistakes I’ve made. The things that I could have done differently. I guess my life hasn’t been spot on to what I wish it was. Do you ever just want to go back and change how you lived your life? I know I’m still young, and I have my whole life ahead of me; but how many mistakes can you make before you’re lost forever? How many wrong paths can you take before you lose your way back? How many people can you hurt and push away before you have no one left? I guess I’ve never admitted this to anyone before, but I don’t really like who I am. I have this idea in my head of who I want to be – or I guess, wish I could be. But I can’t just change things about myself that have been a part of me for as long as I can remember. Who was it that said the rabbit hole leads to Wonderland, because all I’ve found is an empty abyss. All decisions come with a price; and there will be a time when those ghosts will come back to haunt me. The question is, will I be able to face them? I guess if I really think about it, I don’t have a choice.

Tomorrow starts my post 3 week period. Here’s to hoping that my theory is wrong; because let’s be honest, life really isn’t what you make it. I hope my roommate doesn’t think I’m weird. I’ll have to put on a different facade tomorrow, and hope that he doesn’t find this blog, hah.

Goofy Goobers, and Things of Such Nature


If you asked me how I felt about my internship a month ago, I would have given you the most exciting response you have ever seen. I’ve gotten an opportunity that many engineers in my field would KILL for! Okay, maybe I’m over exaggerating; but I sure am a lucky piece of shit to be here right now, and I know that. Yet, I can’t help but to feel miserable in this situation. Does that make selfish? I sure do feel selfish. For once in my life things were going well, and now I’m sitting here feeling like I should be regretting the decision to come here in the first place. I’m not sure what’s wrong with me, but Connecticut hasn’t been quite the experience that I was hoping for.

Graduation was really a big hit on me. Although I’ll be returning to Penn State in the Fall for graduate school, it just doesn’t seem like it’s going to be the same now that all of my friends will be gone. A lot of things happened during senior week – some that will always remain a mystery to this blog – that made me realize how much I’m going to miss the friends I came to know the past four years. I guess that made me somewhat emotional; and having to drive up to Connecticut and move myself into my new apartment hasn’t really helped with that.

The apartment I’m subletting for the summer isn’t really what I had expected it to be. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still nice; but it’s a bit smaller than I had anticipated. The building itself used to be some sort of old factory, with brick walls and exposed wooden ceilings. I’m completely serious when I tell you that my ceiling light in my living room is hanging from a joist that supports the floor above me. The leasing company offers free access to a pool with green water, and a gym that’s barely the size of my bedroom. One of bedrooms doesn’t have a light fixture, and when I asked about it I was told that it is not uncommon for apartment bedrooms not to have light fixtures. I practically laughed in her face when she said that. This apartment complex doesn’t have recycling options either, which to me is just sad.



There is absolutely nothing to do in this town. My friends tasked me with going out and finding things for them to do when they visit me at some point this summer. Unfortunately they are going to be rather disappointed. I live in a part that considers itself the “downtown” of the area, although it’s far from it. This “downtown” runs for only about a few blocks, and consists mostly of individually owned antique shops. There are a total of two bars in this area. I went to grab a drink by myself just to get a feel of the atmosphere here, and noticed that one of the bars closes at about 7 PM so that the owners and their friends can play pool uninterrupted. The second bar was more of a restaurant than a bar, and was filled with way too many 50+ year olds. Not that I have anything against the older population, but coming from a college town the past four years, this is a HUGE change for me. Instead of living next door to other people my age and in my situation, I live next to families. In fact, as I’m sitting here writing this post I can hear the children running back and in forth in the hallway just outside of my apartment door.

Work is just another world entirely. It certainly hasn’t lived up to what I thought it would be coming up here. I know it’s only been two weeks, but I just can’t stand the fact that all I do at work is stare at my computer screen! I undergo four hours of training classes every morning, take a lunch break, then sit there at my computer for four hours and do absolutely nothing. I thought this was supposed to be exciting…invigorating…innovative. God, I’ve never felt so useless in my entire life. At this point, I don’t care what they give me to do, just as long as I’m doing something besides sitting there. The worst part is that I can’t even browse certain sites at work because they block them; and I avoid bringing a book to read or other things to do for the fear of being unprofessional. I can’t say I get along with other interns at the moment. It seems all they want to do is talk about their research they did in college; which I could really care less about. I want to walk into a work environment where the men wear shirts and ties instead of jeans and tucked in polos, and the woman wear skirts and high heels…where we go to happy hour after work for a beer. I want to take international business trips, and feel like I’m a part of something. Maybe it’s just too early for me to tell, but perhaps I wasn’t meant for this profession? No turning back now though, considering I slaved the past four years to get through an intense engineering curriculum.

One of my friends said to me, “Your life is like normal people after college. All alone and blogging.” Is this really life? Everything just seems to be happening so fast. This isn’t the life I had anticipated after graduation. I’m just not happy here right now. Things are changing and I can’t control it. I don’t even know who I am anymore, what I’m supposed to be doing, what my future holds, and what I really want. I’m hoping things will change in the near future, but I guess only time will tell.

Well, that rant lasted longer than I originally wanted it to. Not every post on this blog will be like this one; but if you’re still with me this is something I feel you had to go through alongside me – kind of like Lady Gaga’s Born This Way album – because within these lines lie the essence and inspiration of what is yet to come.

I’m a pretty amateur blogger, so I don’t even know if I’m doing this right. I guess for now I’ll just sit here and be a goofy goober until I can think of what my next post will be.