In mormon country

In mormon country

Its funny how many eyes stare at me because of the color of my skin.
If I was white, I wouldn't have this issue.

And why do they stare at me? Don't they know that I am unredeemable-the curse of cain thing will do that to you.

Currently stuck in st. George ... I'll write more when the snow clears in cedar.

Peace!
--------------------------
Ramon Avendano
via BlueBerry

Since my last blog ...

1. courtesy VEGAS.com, I got three free nights at Golden Nugget in downtown

2. stayed one night at the GN with maryann and my mom (she was our chaperone)

3. flew to El Paso, TX and back in a 24-hour period for a Quinceniera.

4. while in El Paso, my mom, maryann and her sister (emily) enjoyed a girls night out at the GN [emily is now hooked on nickel slots courtesy of my mom].

5. came back from El Paso and went straight to the GN.

6. started my two week vacation (I am now on my 4th day).

7. my sister and 5 nieces and nephews came into town for a visit.

8. I have been to the mall only once, but stayed there for 5 hours ... blah!

9. went to Fantastic indoor flee market (my sister's idea).

10. went christmas shopping at Best Buy and frys (I should have bought Napoleon Dynomite at Frys when I had the chance).

11. saw a movie -- the incredibles -- much better than I expected. [side note: why do they make cartoon women look hot?].

12. rented the movie Collateral four days ago but just watched it last night.

13. I've had some necessary but good, healing time in prayer, reading, confession and learning to hold on to truth.

In honor of DR -- One of my favorites

There's somethin' happenin' here.
What it is ain't exactly clear.
There's a man with a gun over there
A-tellin' me I've got to beware.

I think it's time we stop.
Children, what's that sound?
Everybody look what's goin' down.

There's battle lines bein' drawn.
Nobody's right if everybody's wrong.
Young people speakin' their minds
A-gettin' so much resistance from behind.

I think it's time we stop.
Hey, what's that sound?
Everybody look what's goin' down.

What a field day for the heat.
A thousand people in the street
Singin' songs and a-carryin' signs
Mostly sayin' hooray for our side.

It's time we stop.
Hey, what's that sound?
Everybody look what's goin' down.

Paranoia strikes deep.
Into your life it will creep.
It starts when you're always afraid.
Step out of line, the men come and take you away.

You better stop.
Hey, what's that sound?
Everybody look what's goin'..
You better stop.
Hey, what's that sound?
Everybody look what's goin'..
You better stop.
Now, what's that sound?
Everybody look what's goin'..
You better stop.
Children, what's that sound?
Everybody look what's goin

Upon further review

An ode to the Relyea's family member

You are round
You are brown

You snort
You fart
You smell

You breath heavy
You have bad breathe

You are a dominatrix
You are sensitive to the touch

You have no one to blame but yourself

You have comsumed too many nibbles and bits

You fat chihuhua ... it is all your fault

Lay off them damn treats!

"Tina, you fat lard... you haven't done anything all day."

Movements

I've been having movements lately. Pushing forward and doing my best to leave certain things behind.

I'm planing to keep pressing forward in faith that it is the right thing to do.

More is to come ...

That day

The day my father died I took my car for its smog test.

Not a usual thing to do, eh? I mean, doesn't it seem odd that the day my father dies, I go out and get my car smogged?

That day has been seared into my brain. My father's death was burdening and liberating, but no less painful.

I'm thankful I smogged my car that day, it spoke of my freedom.

I'm sorrowful that I smogged my car that day, it cost my father his life.

My friend, Greg went with me to smog my car that day.

I don't remember all of our concersation, but I remember being with him.
I remember feeling both of our awkwardness.
I remember feeling his love.
I remember feeling his compassion.
I remember feeling his pain for me.
I remember feeling his friendship.

I speak to all of you who read this. Please, identify those people in your life who are in need. Those people who are in greater need than you are today. Give those people the freedom to do what they are called to do.

Liberate those people who need to get their cars smogged.
Liberate those people who need to walk their dogs.
Liberate those people who need to make a meal.
Liberate those people who need to do what it is they need to do.

Greg, thank you.

Love, Ramon

Its been a while

I have so much to say.

Right now I am listening to Boston (More than a feeling) on luanch cast.

I need to Apologize to my freind Debbie. She emailed me last week and I haven't emailed her back. Debbie, I'm sorry.

It has not been my intention to igonore my friends or my blog, but work has been bruttal. There was a two week period where my boss was out (his wife has his baby). While he was at home acclamating to Daddy life, we (kelly 'my co-worker and friend' and me) were holding down the fort. We worked 10, 11, 12, 13 hour days. Lots of fun, lots of headaches. Overall, it was good and very hard.

Tonight, we are still at work. Its another late night. That sucks.

* Went to the doctors two weeks ago. I had been having these weird pains in my chest, stomach, side and my back (on the left side). I thought of all the possibilities of what it could have been: heart attack, cancer, fungus, whatever else came to mind.

The doc believes it is my gall bladder. I'm still waiting to have my ultra sound. Doc's office and insurance suck.

* This past weekend was hard...it was my 10 year high school reunion. Maryann and I enjoyed oursleves. I'm very sad that I won't see these people for a long time. Believe it or not, I really miss these people and quazi community I had with them. I pray for them. I miss them. I am sad.

* in 4 days it will be my father's 4 month anniversary of being dead/alive. On his 3 month anniversary, I bought 2 cigars, and two bottles of water. I sat with my dad at his gravesite and smoked the cigars and shared my bottles of water with him. I smoked both cigars and talked with my dad. I miss him. I feel all the more sad when I remember him in his illness. Thinking of him in his illness leaves me feeling empty. The emptiness hurts. When I think of my father being in heaven, I don't feel as sad.

When my father was sick, he used to lay on the couch. He couldn't do anything else. Would it have killed me to not have gone to work any one of those days? I miss him. I cry.

It is true that I did alot for him and for my mother and for myself. But in all that, it wasn't enough. Gosh, I wan't to spend more time with him. It's so not fair.

I need to go sit with him again and talk and smoke. Maybe we both need a drink. Well, at least I know I do for sure. I really doubt he does.

Darren

I went out of town this Labor Day weekend. And while I was gone, Darren visited with my mother.

He didn't ask me if it was okay, he didn't announce it to me, he just went and hung with her. He was her friend. And brining nibbles (his over-weight, extremely large Chihuahua) helped spark some conversation, I'm sure :-)

Thanks, Darren.

Love,

Ramon

The American Attitude Within Us

What I am going to say will piss some people off. Some people will be offended, others will be hurt. I am not writing to piss people off, nor am I wanting to offend -- but ultimately and unfortunately -- I will cause hurt.

My purpose is to express my anger and to let my community know how I feel. But foremost, to shed light on the last year of my life, and my school of thought(s).

Here we go:

My mother and I were talking this morning about my father. Its always an interesting subject when we talk about him. Conversation about him are usually filled with sighs of relief, laughter, acknowledgement of pain and a sense of honorable duty (aka love).

During the last 6 months of my father's earthly life, my mother and I were bombarded with people's opinions on what to do with him. A prevalent attitude went something like this: "you can't keep going like this...you need to consider hospice." Others would say "we're here for you", but then they would never show up. Some stood by our side and served us with sadness and joy in their hearts (just as we are all called to do).

The issue I most want to address today is the prevailing American Attitude Within Us on hospice. I've come to learn that most people see hospice as a first resort when dealing with a terminal condition. At the outset, I want people to know that I am not against hospice. I understand the wonderful acts of mercy that they show and for that I appreciate hospice.

However, I do have anger, but my anger is not toward hospice. Rather, it is toward the American Attitude Within Us about hospice. The attitude that sees hospice as the first and only option. The attitude that CHOOSES not consider other available options. Admittedly, these other options come at a great sacrifice to those who choose them.

When my mom and I speak of my father and people's attitudes toward him and his care takers --namely my mother and I -- all in the guise of "consider your own sanity", I become very angry. I come to the point of having no other words on my venomous tongue than "Fuck that....what a fucking selfish attitude....that's a bunch of shit!"

Those words are the expression of my anger. I apologize for them and at the same time, make no apologies for them.

I don't understand why the American attitude is so bent on only seeing the option of hospice as being the only option. I believe that American's DO realize that there are other options out there. Options such as taking on the burdening task of being the care taker; or pleading with their community for help in a variety of ways. But these "other" options are mere fleeting thoughts, disipitating into the recesses of their minds. So, the only option available to them is hospice.

For those who see hospice as the first and only available option, my soul hurts for you. It hurts because those typically are the people who CHOOSE to not leave their well padded, well cushioned lives.

Those not wanting to leave their well padded, well cushioned life are the ones I primarily address these words to. These people share a similar ideology as those who on numerous occasions challenged us to consider hospice.

The challenge set before us always came packaged so nice and neat. The package had a pretty ribbon bow on top, and glittery wrapping paper hiding the ugliness of the package that lay inside. The package always centered around the idea of "considering Felix's condition and considering our own sanity."

Many of you wonder why that was such a bad thing to advise or why do you (Ramon) take such offense at that suggestion?

Very simply put, my father was not dead yet. There was fight in his eyes. His soul spoke to us through his eyes, through his grunts and through his complete being that he was still very much alive. He was not dead yet. He was still alive.

Had we wanted to abandoned my father, the quickest and surest thing that would have killed him, would have been to place him in hospice. And when people, who all had good intention, came around offering their pretty shiny present, they did nothing more than frustrate us and complicate the issue.

Offering us their pretty package of advice, unbeknownst to them, is similar to David offering Uriah a place to lay his head while his men fought on the battle field. Like Uriah, we too declined the offer of laying our head. Had we laid our head for one moment, we would have abandoned my father in spirit and ultimately would have killed him.

I implore you to not mistake my words as a straight and complete comparison between David's sinister act to those people who offered us their shiny, pretty package. On the contrary, these people were most likely good hearted in their attempts to "alleviate" our pain. But had we followed the terms to alleviate our own pain, we would have done nothing more than heap coals on my father's head. To alleviate our pain would have resulted in causing my father's death.

Yes, it its true that my father is dead momentarily, and his death was an inevitable end. Just like my father, we will all have our end and make the transition, finally seeing the full Kingdom that we only partially see now.

So, since my father is dead, some may wonder what the difference is...he is dead. What's the big deal on hospice. Whether he was in hospice or not, he was still going to die.

The deal on hospice for us is "abandonment". How selfish of us it would have been to have abandoned my father in the name of "our own sanity." My father was unable to abandon his call, so why should have we?

I am sure I have confused some of you readers; others I have offended. Many of you are friends, some are acquaintances and others are distant family. If I have confused you, I apologize for that. I have hurt you, I too apologize for that.

One thing I ask, please do not leave this reading without any recourse. Please feel free to post your thoughts and comments.

With full confidence and love,

Ramon

Etta James

"At last" I have found time to reinsert the blog links to my friend's blogs. I apologize for their temporary deletion. When I changed blog templates, all custom template changed were deleted.

I have been fortunate to hang out with many of these days. I eagerly await to hang out with many more of you. I think a lot about you guys and gals. I can say that emotions does run through me that cause joy and tears of joy to manifest themselves within me.

I really, really appreciate all of you. I wish I could see you all more often. I wish I could spend more intimate time with you all more often.

This weekend

This weekend was a good and hard weekend. I spent much of my time with people at Neil T. Anderson's conference: Freedom in Christ (Counseling Discipleship).

I had some great interaction with Chris, Debbie and Neil. What a blessing and an honor to be with all three.

I was so encourage by Debbie. It was so nice to have someone identify and join me in mutual emotions on various issues. She also served us well by leading us into singing to Father. I love you, Debbie.

I was so encourage by Chris. We listened intently on what Neil was saying. We laughed, but we didn't cry :-) Chris and I had lunch together, that was fun. I love you, Chris.

I was so encouraged by Neil as well. Father blessed me with a desire of my heart to meet Neil. The entire weekend, I believe, was totally a God thing. Everything happened that needed to happened or so at least it seemed. I love you too, Neil.

Long Days

Its 3:02 a.m. and I am still at work. I will be here till 4 a.m. and then back at 5:45 a.m.. Why go home? Exactly!

Tomorrow morning is going to suck even worse. Get up at 2 a.m. and test. Fun schedule. But its not that bad. I work with fun people.

The only unfortuante part is that my mom is at home all alone. Since my dad died, she doesn't like to be at home alone.

I have been sitting in this chair for 18 hours, periodically getting up mind you. My butt hurts. You think the extra cushion I have [that's a euphamism for I'm fat] would help out, but on the contrary, my butt almost feels rash. I think I may know how my father must have felt being confined in bed for many, many months. My poor dad used to get lots of rashes on his touche and his back. I love him, miss him and feel sorry for him. I have pitty for him

I miss you appa.

Love,

Ramon

Spiffers is gone

Sometime ago I imagined my father in heaven minding his own business when all of the sudden spiffers came along side my father. In my thoughts, I envisioned my father scooping up the doggy into his arms and holding him tight. I see the dog happy, with his mouth open and his tongue partially hanging out. The dog is happy. My father is happy.

In honor of spiffer ... an ode I give:

You came to us unwanted, you had no where to live
Your previous owners abandoned you, we took you in

From day one you took ownership of the house, peeing was your game
The corners of the carpet were no longer the same

You pranced and strutted around, strutting your youthful appearance
Jinglin', jinglin' from both the collar in the front and your manhood in the back

You were an aggressive teen, one who loved the ladies and disliked the men
The day came when you bit your owner in the face and so that became your demise

A few days latter you encountered your new self

A jinglin', jinglin' was now merely from the front, your manhood became a memory, a story of disgrace

You have departed from our presence, hopefully to soon be seen again
Your death was not natural, we submitted your forcefully into the bitter end

We dug a hole in that back yard deep enough to keep you from becoming food
we stood around your grave thinking of you

We search for a box but none could be found
we settle for a plastic bin which keeps you in the ground

We said a prayer of thankfulness and hope
that one day soon we should soon hear you again

But until that day, we will for now just think of you, our dear ol' sweet, crotchety friend

Life in the past month

So much has happened...that seems to be an understatement.

It's 7:40 p.m., it's a Friday and I am at work. This has been typical...the scenario has been the same over the last week and will only become a permanent facect for a while.

My Father died 38 days ago. I long for him. In my head, I vividly remember seeing him on his death bed. He looked peaceful -- full of life and completely devoid of life. I remember patting him on the check with my hand in hopes of waking him up. "Dad, dad, dad, wake up" I passed to him. His check absorbed the patting of my hand. His head moved slightly. "He gone, Ramon, he's gone" my mother said. I miss him.

What I get and what I don't get: my father is heaven...and I believe that. He's happy, but we hurt. We're supposed to be happy because he is in heaven, but we are supposed to be sad because he is not here. These are things that I get and don't get.

I identify with the woman who cried at Jesus' feet...why did my brother have to go...but I understand he will be resurrected. Jesus responds, "he will be resurrected." And so it was, Lazarus was resurrected.

During my father's funeral I intimately wished that God would raise my dad from the dead. The events ran through my mind: God could raise my father from the dead. My father would sit up in his casket. People all around would gasp. People would cry. We all would cry. I would cry. Utter amazement would over come us all. Some how news crews would get wind of the mighty resurrection and pounce onto scence at the funeral. Local anchormen and woman would interview my family and me. But, for my father's safety, we would prohibit interviews with my father. 3 days after my father had been resurrected, we would be on Larry King live. He would ask us, "why do you not allow people to interview your father, the resurrected one?" We/I would respond, it is best for him that way. A day later, the tabloids, in huge letters would print: "Resurrected man dies." And the circus would all be over.

On another note: I now have a girlfriend...what a weird but delightful thing.

Dear Family and Friends:

I write to inform you of my father's passing. On June 15, 2004, at 4 a.m.,
with my mother at his side, he took his last breath.

Funeral arrangements are:

The Viewing
June 21, 2004 (Monday)
Family hours: Noon - 1 p.m.
General hours: 1 p.m. - 7 p.m.

The Funeral (Tuesday)
June 22, 2004
Service: 1 p.m.
Grave-side service: 2:30 p.m.

Both the viewing and the funeral will be held at Bunkers Mortuary, 925 Las
Vegas Blvd. N. (across the street from Cashman field). In lieu of flowers,
my family would appreciate donations to off-set funeral costs.

For individuals needing a place to stay, my place of employment (VEGAS.com)
has been kind enough to provide people with great rates for Sunday, Monday
and Tuesday. The hotel is called Emerald Quarter Suites (4777 Cameron Dr.)
Please call 888-719-4040 and tell the travel service agent that you are with
Felix Avendano's funeral. The discount rate is $29.95 per night per room.

Phone calls and visits are welcomed. Phone calls can be made directly to my
cell at 580-6919. Visits are welcomed at my parent's home, 6222 Foothill
Blvd., Las Vegas, NV 89118. However, with that said, please call first :-)

We thank you all for you care, affection, thoughts and prayers.

With Love,

Ramon (on behalf of the Avendano Family)

Roommate wanted immediately -- can you help out a brutha'

We have an availability at my rental home. The roommates who currently live
there are looking for a roommate to fill the vacant room.

Specs on the room we are renting:

* Room size: 10 ft. X 11
* Close proximity to the hall bathroom
* Wall color of the room is a light gray (incoming person can paint it if
they'd like)
* Nice size closet


Some info about the house:

* 1650 sq. ft. 3 bedrooms, 2 bath.
* 2 living rooms
* 2 car garage
* Front yard
* Backyard has a Huge pool and decent size grass area
* Approximately 2 miles from UNLV
* The home address is 3077 Aldon Ave., Las Vegas, NV 89121


There are a few things we're looking for in a roommate:

* Preferably a guy, but a girl roommate may be considered.
* Has a legal source of income
* Should be able to get along with other people
* Pet's may be welcomed -- all depends on the pet

Rent:

* $275 + utilities (we may be able to work with the person on the rent cost
if need be)


Please call Ramon at 580-6919 or the house at 433-9952 if interested. If you
ain't interested but know someone, please tell them about this availability.

Thanks!

Ramon

FYI: I own the home and rent it out my friends, so I don't actually live
there.

Ineffective: Where's the local NAACP chapter, black?

I was watching a VH1 program on the band OUTKAST. After some airtime past, the program cut away to commercials.

Suddenly, a "black" guy appears on my screen. He's decked out in an "urban" ensemble - baggy white t-shirt, baggy blue jeans, a pair of name brand sneakers, a turned-sideways hat and next to his pearly whites he dawned a gold tooth.

Him being "black" and wearing his "urban" ensemble bothered me greatly...

...appearntly, VH1's advertising department found it okay for a Bails bond company to hype and glamourize their "product" via this "black" guy and his "urban-ness".

As this "black" guy touted the services of this bail bond company, I thought "how ineffective, how stupid and how sad." But the really cool thing that soothed my soul and made things better was the closing line ... "Se habla espanol".

Here's to companies that make money off stereo types and diversity!

Sounds. Memories.

I started listening to Sigur Ros again -- Agaetis Byrjun. The song after the intro is called Svefn g englar.

As I listened to this song today while at work it conjured up the idea of sirens (yes, like TI sirens -- without all the sexual crap). The next thought that came was me standing at the top of a huge cliff in Mexico. Looking down toward the ocean, I saw rocks, water and sea lions.

The memory was of a family trip I took with my mom and dad a long time ago.

Both the memory and the song are beautifully sad. It reminds me of my father because he was there on the trip, he took us there. How I miss the way my father was. How I will miss him when he is no longer in this world. I miss him already. I miss him and I love him. With all his faults he was and is and will always be a good man.

I cry for him. I cry for me.

See Tommy

I saw Tommy Peterson Today. Seeing him made my day. It was good to see you, man.

Thank you, Father.

Ramon

Perfect English

There came a time in my life where I began to resent my parents for not speaking "perfect english". Along with that, I realized that the real problem layed with me. My lack of pactience was the true culprit.

The Palmers

I'm indebted to the Palmer's. What Father provided them with (close knit community, love, suffering) he too has provided for us. I'm thankful, Mark never seemed to hold back the reality of their situation.

Community

Last week Father brought together our community at my parent's home. We first met up at the Stoddards and then headed over to my parents for time of loving each other and praying for one another.

Indebted

There are SO MANY PEOPLE who need to be thanked individually and as a whole. My family and I are indebted to all of our brothers and sisters who continue to stand with us, and bear through this time of pain and transition. You all deserve to mentioned by name, but I'm sure many of you rather me keep your names silent. May you all be honored for your love. May His Kingdom come.

Instead of mentioning your names, I will mention your beautiful deeds (in no particular order):

Monday night Dinners

Wednesday night Dinners

Prayers and Afirmation

Home retrofitting

Being showered with spontaneous groceries

Assitance in filling out medicaid application

Picking up and dropping off prescriptions

Hanging out with my Dad

Offers of money

Helping my mom take my dad to doctors appoinments

Running errands

Offering a place to stay for visiting family to stay in

Mouring with my family

Rejoicing with my family

The list goes on ... I know I am forgetting somethings.

Happy

I'm filled with tears because there's help. I'm happy.

The state of an offering

Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane poured out his heart to Father.

Paul in Philippians writes that he himself is being poured out as a fragrant offering.

My dad has entered his Garden of Gethsemane. He is being poured out like a fragrant offering.

5:30 in the morn'

I was supposed to be at work at 4:30 a.m., but at 4:23 my boss calls and says "the network guys are delayed, so just come in about 5 am."

Since I had a few minutes to spare I talked to my parents for a little and then sat in the recliner with a cup of coffee, closed my eyes and meditated for a while. Re-read some of Paul's stuff. I really appreciate his "no confidence in the flesh" memorandum. And furthermore, I appreciate the depth that he delves into in regards to "wanting to know Christ and the POWER of his resurrection." But he doesn't stop there. He continues with wanting, hoping, desiring to "share with Christ in his suffering" to the point of becoming like Christ in his death. Paul has the idea that all of what he wants from Christ in not vain, but rather, there is a major purpose. He sees all of this to his benefit, providing him with the ability to "attain to the resurrection from the dead." That's some really cool and powerful stuff.

Co-workers

My co-worker Jason just peeked his head out of his cube and says "Erik reports that you farted yesterday." I replied with "you missed the show, man." Wow! What a show it was. For most guys and a few girls, there is just something really funny about farts. Especially the ones that clear house!

Yesterday, I cleared house.

As I sat in my cube, the arby's lunch I had was -- let's just say -- it was having a gaseous affect on me. So, discreetly and not thinking much about it, I farted. A few seconds later I smell the most hideous smell. The smell was funky!

I wasn't sure what to do...I mean, I was a little embarrassed. So, my bright idea was if I walk away, the fart will follow and hopefully not bother my co-workers. I was wrong. After I came back to my cube, and a few minutes had passed, my boss (Erik) says in a inquisitive manner, "hey, um...Ramon, did you uhm....do something?" Looking at him with a raised eyebrow, I examined his face and realized I had been caught. The look on his face was priceless.

No longer able to contain myself, I burst out in laughter. But not just any old laughter. I'm talking about the gut wrenching laughter that leaves you deliriously giggly.

My poor boss. Ah...who am I kidding, it was funny!

After my boss was no longer able to take my stench anymore, he picks up a magazine and fanned the air in hopes to shew the ravenous attack. He then playfully, but slightly seriously yells "take that stuff over the developers." Still unable to contain my giggles, I walk over to the developers cube. Their first question for me was "why are you laughing?" Sharing my story, they laughed with me.

In the words of Doug Citizen, "Ah life......."

:-)

Lights Out

I sit in a dark corner. Classical music soothes my head. Blah...blah...blah.

Its Saturday and I'm at work. The lights are off because we have a developer who likes to work in the dark. He comes over to me asking "hey Ramon, is it okay if I turned the lights off?" With out missing a beat I chimed back at him "sure, why not, I leaving in a while anyways." How accomadating of me.

It is freaky but kinda nice to work in the dark. On another note....

I'm having dinner with this wonderful man tonight, his wife is coming too ;-) Actually, I'm having dinner with my buds, Erin and Darren. Maryann(e) (sp?) may come too. We are eating at the NEW Mediterranean cafe. I hear the food is the same good stuff, but not to expect to much out of the ambiance.

Met with Chris last night. That was a good time. 2 conclusions from last night. 1. I'm pretty sure I was mourning for Jesus. 2. I am terribly, utterly inept at being patient with people and having patience for myself.

As I shared with Chris it struck me. The patience he has for me I have not for myself or others.

I cried. He listened.

Sadness

I didn't know what to expect other than the hyped reports of blood and gore.

My reactions planed from one end of the sphere to the other end. I cried, I had fear, I was angry, I sat in despair, I accused; not what I expected to feel.

This morning I awoke up with sadness. The type of sadness that churns in you as you mourn the death of a person.

When I walked into work this morning, I was told by our administrator that Mike O'Callaghan died this morning of heart attack while he was at church.

I didn't know Mr. O'Callaghan personally, but I know that many people are in pain due to his departure.

My sadness this morning was for Jesus and continues on for Jesus and Mr. O'Callaghan too.

Dreams

I had a dream a couple of weeks ago. I dreamt that my friend Paul W. is moving. The dream was somber and passionate. I need to call him.

I have a dream that one day I will own many restaurants and give to the kingdom and live in the barrio or hood amongst the poor.

I want to give to the kingdom both financially and through my soul.

Ramon

I Feel like an F-ing IDIOT

Argh....

I feel like an idiot because I chewed out one of my dad's nurses. I allowed other things to affect me in a way that prompted me to treat her poorly. I should have indeed been bold with her, but not belligerent nor over the top. Dang it!

How do I make it up to her? How do I apologize? She's due an apology.

Contemplation and self-serving shameless Plug

Today is my birthday. I am 28. Well, actually, at 10:43 a.m. I will be 28.

28 is a number. I don't say that as in "please don't think I am old." Rather, 28 the number doesn't properly capture the previous years lived. The trials, the struggles, the attempts for purity, the cynicism, the torture, the unwanted feelings, the life lived, all reside behind a number.

Today is a good day....well, at least for me it is. Its not good because of the presents or cards. No...... I believe today is good because it is my birthday. I have been given the potential to live another day. I could have died last night and never made it to have seen my 28 birthday. Today is a good day.

I have alot more to say, but maybe I will wait for another day.

Do You Love your Father

I saw Big Fish this weekend.

I watched the movie with gladness and sadness in my heart. The movie, I declare, was made specially for my father and me...and the countless other father's who battle cancer and their sons.

How true did the movie ring with me.

I treat my father so bad sometimes. Typically I find that when I treat him bad is for two reasons: a) I hate the ravenous disease that eats away at him b) our roles are reversed now and I hate that.

I thought this past week was a moment of accepting my role as father/son.
I thought this past week was a moment of accepting his circumstances.

I don't think I was wrong in thinking those things. I think they remain true. The only difference is I no longer have the emotional butterflies that go along with such awareness.

I don't beat my father....but I beat him with my words.

I want to be a good son who truly cares for his father.
I want to look in my father's eyes and know that he knows that I care for him.
I want my father to look into my eyes and know that he is cared for.

Father, how can I make it up to you?
How can I bring meaning to you life.
How can I make it easy for you to call me your son.
How can I take your pain away.
How can I honor you.

"I like the movie...but it was some kind of sad--sad because he dies..." -- Felix Avendano

An ode to the Relyea's family member

You are round
You are brown

You snort
You fart
You smell

You breath heavy
You have bad breathe

You are a dominatrix
You are sensitive to the touch

You have been diagnosed with a condition
Your plumpness is not your fault

Take pride you overweight Chihuahua. Take pride.

El Fin

With a sigh of relief, I can now proclaim: "We are done".

The new apex site is up!

Major thanks goes to:

Jim Sullivan
Gregg Stokes
Kurtis Kopf

and Greg Hubbard for seeing this to its completion!

But that's who he is now

The glare
The stare
The infantilel excitement
The curiosity of whose at the door

To leap out of bed
To investigate
To no longer procrastinate

Life is different now

Your youth is a memory

For us

We recall the days of dancing
The days of excitement
The days of Joventud ---

Youthfulness is no longer manifested physically

Your stare expresses

Joy and Pain

Your time of becoming an old man came too soon.

Mine
Mis heridas No las puedo comparar Cada uno tiene suyo Pero son bien diferentes Son separados por una gran distancia El Gran Canyon no es Nada En todo su espacio No queda nuestras dolencias	My wounds I can't compare we each have them But each are are different Seperated by a great distance The Grand Canyon is nothing Even with all of its space Our hurts and pains are too enormous to fit in it.

Damn. It just ain't fair.

But...yes, yes, I know... life ain't fair.

Fairness is not what I hope for.

REDEMPTION