Lovely day

Work went by hella fast today! I spent the first half of my day doing my actual job (It's kinda boring since all I do is scan but I make it as fun as possible by amusing myself and others) and the second half I spent helping in the Photo Lab.

After the first half of work, "the crew" and I decided to go out for lunch like we always do and ended up at McAllister's. The people there are always so friendly. Not only do they come to your table with your food but will periodically walk by to see if anyone needs their drink topped off which I think is awesome. I get better service there than I do at most sit-down restaurants and I don't even have to leave a tip! I had a nummylicious Caesar Salad with a tall sweet tea. S.A. had this meat loaf sammich which looked really tasty and I think I will have on my next visit while J.K. had a French Dip. Everything I have had from there is always delicious and their sweet tea is some of the best I have had. Their cookies are kinda "bleh" but the rest of the menu makes up for it.

So we get back from lunch and spend a nice half hour goofing off which is always fun. We finally decide to get back to work when I am asked if I can cover the Photo Lab for a half hour while J.B. takes a lunch and I said "why the f not!". I saw it as an opportunity to go back to the photo lab and help people in need since most don't know how to use the kiosks there. I enjoy figuring stuff out as I go and that is what happens every time i help someone at those kiosks since I was never trained on how to use them. It's simple enough to use them but a lot of our clientèle don't seem to get it. It got so busy back there that before I knew it, it was time for me to go home! I love days like that.

I started heading home and I remembered that my mom had sent me some quesadillas (EL Salvadorian quesadillas are completely different from the Mexican ones. For El Salvador it's a cake instead of a tortilla folded over cheese and whatever other ingredients they add in there) but she sent them to the address that I used to live in before (the package would have gotten to me because of mail forwarding but she forgot to put my name on the package for some silly reason) so I had to go pick them up there. It was a little nostalgic seeing that place again and i wish I could have moved there again but I can't afford a one bedroom for $600/mo which is what rent would be there.

I got home and had a nice chunk of one of the quesadillas and now nothing can put a frown on this face. I love those things. I think this day will be complete if I took a nap which I think I will go do right now.

The good, the bad, and the Facebook

I have been contemplating getting a Facebook account for quite (thanks for noticing lady K.P. :-p) some time now and every single time, I've opted against it. I have a few friends that have wanted me to get one but I always tell them no because as it was mentioned on a comment to one of my posts "it goes against every fiber in my being". Why? because I don't care for social networks sites much mainly due to the fact that I think of them as a popularity contest. To me, it seems that most of the people on sites like mypsace and facebook use them mainly to compile a huge list of "friends" and these friends compose of people you have hardly ever spoken to. Sure, there's an off chance that you might make good friends with someone you didn't care for a few years ago but I don't see that happening often. Mind you, I am comparing Facebook to myspace but since they are both social networks, i figured they are essentially the same thing with Facebook having the slight upper hand by requiring membership to see someones page. It also repulses me when people thank you for adding them to your friends list *shudders*.

Having a Facebook account would trigger a ripple effect that I don't know I'll be ready for. I know that as soon as I add the people I want to add, people on their friends list will notice and might want to add me and so on and so forth and I will accept cuz I don't want to be a douche monkey and tell them "I know you but I don't really care to talk to you, sorry".

There's a nice handful of people from my past that I don't speak to now and wouldnt mind speaking to again if they were to have a Facebook account. I guess I can make that my selling point for getting an account, eh?

In closing: Facebook is bad because people use it as a popularity contest (my opinion)by making their friends list as huge as possible with people they hardly ever talk to, it makes it so damn easy to stalk someone, and you might get people wanting to add you but you wont want to add them back. Good things about it are that it would make it supah dupah easy to keep in touch with friends and it will make it easy for old friends that you haven't spoken to to reach you without it being too stalker-ish.

Technical Difficulties

I apologize for some of the posts looking funky. I tried copying and pasting from word and the HTML tag thingiemabobber was telling me crazy things and it put a voodoo spell on me for being a n00b. I am going to mess around with the setting of my page a little more but before I leave to do that, I am going to tell you something that will shock you. Ready? I will be getting a *gasp* Facebook account within the next month or so if I don't chicken out.

Introduction part 5

Coincidently enough, the civil war in Salvador ended the year that we came to the states. I thought it was such a weird coincidence that I joke about the country wanting me to GTFO since the civil war started at around the time I was born and ended when I left.

My brother and I are now in the U.S. of A. The culture shock then was something incredible. All the tall buildings and fleets of cars in the freeway were jaw-dropping. Everything was done so differently here. You hardly saw anyone out on the streets; everyone always took cars everywhere. It took a good year for me to get over the culture shock.

We lived with dad for our first 2 years in the states I had never really spent much time with dad. He came to visit in El Salvador every year and it was fun spending time with him but I didn’t know what life was going to be like with him. It didn’t turn out to be bad at all.

He is still with the woman that broke my parents up. She is not that bad a person either. I didn’t like her that much at first because she wasn’t my mom and because she tried to get me to call her mom. She has 4 kids, 2 younglings (girls) and 2 olderlings (boy and a girl). We all got along well with one tiny glitch in the form of the youngest kid and my half sister. She enjoyed getting my brother and I into trouble and she always succeeded. She could make life hell but we still coasted through it.

Fast forward 2 years and now we are living with mom. She lives in Los Angeles while he lived in a town that was about an hour away from Oakland so the visitation thing was crazy at times. My brother and I flew to see dad every time we had vacation from school. I can’t say I’ve ever been scared of flying either.

So now we are living with mom and all is fine and dandy and then one of my moms’ bosses mom fell ill and we had to move to Indiana. This was back in 1997 and I have been living here ever since. This was another point of culture shock for me since we moved to Williamsport. I was used to seeing everyone only care about themselves in California and to come to a town where everyone waves as they drove by was a little creepy. I wanted to go back to California for the longest time. I was scared by how kind people seemed. The culture shock went away after a year and then I started to like the town and its inhabitants even though most of them probably wanted to burn me on a cross.

From here on, most of you reading this know my story so I will keep it as short as possible and if anyone asks, I could always go into more detail on the subject of their choosing.

Let’s see…I graduated from SHS attended Ivy Tech afterwards for about 2 years and then I dropped out because I didn’t really know what I wanted to do. The fear of real world and being an adult scared the living daylights out of me. I started working Retail in 2001 and have been there since. I kind of saw it as me wasting 7 years of my life for a time but I have grown a lot as a person there and a lot of the friends I have made from there, I would not trade for anything in the world. That place has helped me make me who I am today and I like me. I am finally back in school and I can’t wait to be done with it so I can go out there and shake my groove thing and make momma proud. We all have our little hiccups on the road of life and mine just happened to be 7 years long. It was a needed hiccup which made me realize what is important in life so I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. And now we are caught up to the present.

Believe it or not, this is short compared to all the thoughts and memories that started flooding my brain when I started writing this. I apologize for all the grammatical and punctuation errors you may have encountered while reading this incoherent mess. Hope you enjoyed getting to know me ^_^*.

Introduction part 4

Grand Father was a pretty cool guy. He owned a barbershop. He was awesome at his craft and did this weird thing with his tongue every time he was cutting hair. I don’t have many memories of gramps. I just know that my grandmother saved him pretty much. He used to be an alcoholic and smoked like a chimney. I don’t remember being told what she said/did to him to put him on the right track. My grandfather stayed sober and smoke-free (mostly, I caught him smoking once or twice) for 30+ years until his death.

Something I am very proud of is that my grandparents were dancing royalty in our town. They would always win any and every dancing competition they entered. Mind you, this was in the days when dancing was classy and people didn’t call “rubbing up against your partners crotch and dropping down to simulate oral sex” as dancing. Heh, grandma tried to teach me how to dance back then but I always refused. She was able to get me to dance with her for a week but I stopped after that because I didn’t want to be seen as a girly man.

Uncle was never around. He was off in the “big city” chasing his dreams and having women chase him. He was/is a total charmer and player. He introduced us to so many of his girlfriends and I could hardly keep track of any of them since it seemed he didn’t really like to keep the same one for long. I am not saying my uncle is not a good looking man but some of the women he brought home were drop dead gorgeous and seemed like they were way out of his league. Goes to show how confidence is something women are REALLY attracted to. Long story short with uncle, his charm and player ways finally caught up to him and he is now living in the states with a woman that is very controlling and knows of his player ways.

This brings me to mother dearest. She is the best mother a son like me could ask for. That woman has done no wrong in my eyes and will never do any wrong in my eyes. She sacrificed so much for my brother and I and for that, I will be eternally grateful. There aren’t words that can express how much she means to me even though I don’t call her as often as I should. She is always in my thoughts though and I will make sure to make her proud.

Mother dearest left my brother and I alone in El Salvador when I was 10-ish for a “job interview” which in reality meant that she was coming back to the states to settle and get a living situation ready since dad was working on getting me to the states and keeping me there without just a permit. My brother was never a problem since he was born in San Francisco.

Fast forward to when I am 12 and I find out that dad is bringing my brother and I to the states and also find out why mom had been “interviewing” for the past 2 years.

Introduction part 3

As some of you may know, I am left handed and being left-handed when you are Catholic in a Spanish speaking country is a big no no since left-handedness is associated with the devil(don’t ask me, this is just what I was told). The nuns spent all of first grade trying their hardest to get me to write with my right hand. They tried so hard that they forgot to teach me anything BUT how to try to write with my right hand so I had to repeat first grade. Funny thing is that mom taught me everything I needed to know during summer vacation. I breezed through first grade my second time around which shouldn’t have happened had they taught me what I needed to learn instead of trying to make me a right-hander in the first place. After first grade, they gave up on trying to get me to write with my right hand but they had me stay after school to practice writing because my cursive looked like chicken scratch to them. Let’s just say that all that extra time practicing my writing didn’t pay off and I think some first graders now have better writing that I do. *sniff*

Another awesome thing about Catholic school back in El Salvador is that going to Church on Sunday was/is mandatory. It’s not that I didn’t or did like going to church, it was just boring to me at that age. Church became so boring to a select few of us catholic kids that we brought our bikes and played in the park right outside the church while everyone was at mass. Once we saw people coming out of the church, we would rush in so that when attendance was taken, we would not get in trouble. We had it down to a science. Good times were had back then.

Now that the school portion is out of the way, let’s talk about the familia. I lived with Mom, bro, grandma, grandpa, and uncle. Nice happy family and we all got along great…with the exception of my brother and I. We mainly fought when mom or grandma were around. I think we were just trying to establish who would back who up and who liked who better. Since my brother was the baby, he would always win with them. I think I started most of the fights mainly because I enjoyed pushing my brother’s buttons back then. I think it was jealousy at work.

My brother was a little angel in my grandmothers’ eyes. She would always believe him and he would always get me in trouble with her. The only times the both of us got in trouble is when she saw things from beginning to end. This one time, she decided she wanted to put an end to our fighting once and for all and held a public punishment for the both of us. She poured oil and salt on both our backs and had us lick each others backs. I had to go first of course and I took ten licks before she told me to stop and tell my brother to start. My brother barely put his tongue on my back before he started puking. Grandma told him to stop and that he didn’t have to lick my back anymore. I didn’t care much but it was a little humiliating to be punished in front of so many people for being a naughty boy. My brother and I didn’t fight much after that point.

An interesting fact about my grandparents (mothers side) that I didn’t learn until I was 17 is that they weren’t my biological grandparents. They were a great aunt/uncle that took my mom and uncle in because my real grandmother started treating them horribly after my grandfather had died. I was shocked when I heard this especially after I remembered that a weird woman went by the school my brother and I were in - claiming to be our grandmother. We just dismissed her as being crazy. Last thing I heard from mom, the biological grandmother is now diseased.

Introduction part 2

Fast Forward some years and mom decides to take is back to our home town to live with other grandma. These are the years of my youth that I remember well. Again though, I did stuff normal kids did but only in a different environment. How different you ask?

- The country is still at civil war

- It’s a third world country

- Military dudes were always walking around with their rifles which should have scared me but didn’t since it that was normal back then

- Poverty was/is horrible there

- Our town had a curfew that no one could be out on the streets after 9:00PM or you would be either arrested or caught in the cross fire while the guerilla and military were gunning each other down

- We didn’t have a consistent supply of water and electricity (because the guerilla tried sabotaging stuff) so we would go months without one or the other

- You would have to worry about gunfire outside of your home

- Earthquakes at least 3 times a year

- Having friends shot and killed

- Being afraid that if you were old enough and male, that you would get recruited by either side against your will

- etc.

My grandmother on my mom’s side is hilarious. She would tell all the neighborhood kids elaborate stories she had made up or had hear when she was younger. She did this when it was dark outside and we didn’t have “novelas” (soap operas for you whiteys) to watch due to the lack of electricity. I remember it all being really cool and mystical. She is a great story teller.

She would tell my brother and I that if we ever swallowed seeds from the fruits we ate, that we were going to have trees growing out of our stomachs. I ones swallowed a watermelon seed and I went around town asking people how to get it out because my grandmother told me that if I swallowed a seed, that a tree would grow out of my belly…people just laughed at me. She ones got me good when I didn’t bring good grades home and told me that since I got bad grades, the lord would take my sight if I watched TV or played Videogames before my grades came back up. That was the worse time of my life. I feared going to friends home because they might have a TV on or something. Needless to say, I spend a lone month or two before I finally got my grades back up and was able to watch tv and play games without my sight being taken from me.

Speaking of school, when I was in El Salvador, I went to a Catholic school. I was taught by nuns - mean ones at that. They would break Meter sticks on kids for misbehaving or not turning in their homework. I am glad to say that I never got a meter stick broken on me during my years at that Catholic school.

Introduction part. 1

Hello everyone! I finally got the motivation to start blogging and telling my story from a point of view that many people don’t get to experience. In case you are wondering why I chose to go by Diosthocles (props to lady K.P. for helping me make up my mind), it is because just about everyone I introduce myself to tends to screw up the pronunciation of my name.

My name is Diogenes. I accept the pronunciations of Dye-ah-jeh-knees or Dee-ah-jeh-knees. I should mention that I hardly ever use my full name and go by the shortened version of Dio which I pronounced Dee-o. Looks hard to pronounce but not once I tell you how, right? Wrong!

I know, I live in a place where there’s a lot of ignorant people but it still cracks me up that they get it wrong even after I have corrected them a few times.

Name aside, I shall now introduce you to myself - from my humble beginnings to now. This might take a little while so bear with me. Know that I am a very open person and that I will only leave out certain key info for privacy issues.

I am originally from a small town in El Salvador. I was born in 1980 which just happened to be the year when El Salvador decided to go on a civil war. Dad left Mom and I shortly after I was born due to the Civil War. I was told he was smuggled out of our town so he could make it out of there safely. Dad then came to the states and started working and trying to get mom and I out of our little town and on a plane to the states. Fast Forward 2 years or so and my father was able to bring us to the states. My brother was born about 9 moths later in some Hospital in San Fran (my parents must have been really happy to see each other…gross) and that is when the shit started hitting the fan.

We were a nice happy family for a little while and then mom found out that dad was cheating on her with a friend that mom had made. If that wasn’t bad enough, the lady my dad cheated on mom with also had kids and was married. From what I have been told, minor altercations were had and my mom said “fuck y’all, bitches” (maybe not quiet like that) and took my brother and I back to El Salvador.

We stayed with Grandma (fathers’ side and not same town as home town) for 2 years. I don’t remember much about those days. I recall just being a kid and being a little mischievous and stuff. I do know that some super cute pictures of me were taken while I lived there. What can I say? I was a damn cute little one and I was even cuter in pictures.