Here I Blog: The Return of the Blog – Fuel

Prologue

There are some people who might know my old blog on MySpace (Mr. Fattz’ Blog of the Week). When I was doing that, it was a combination of my random thought and what my past week had consisted of. This blog is going to be a little different. For starters, I won’t be doing one every week. I’m not in high school or a freshman in college anymore. I definitely do not have time to make sure I write a blog every week on the same day. I was barely able to do it then. I will, however, try to blog relatively often. I’ll be blogging whenever want to or feel like I need to. Much like my blog of yesteryear, this blog will consist of my thoughts or feelings on just about any and every subject matter. I’ll be writing about life, love, pain, music, religion, politics, poetry, philosophy, movies, and whatever else I want to share with the world. I am open, I am honest, and not am afraid to be so. These blogs will be the same. If any of you know me personally and have me as a friend on Facebook, I’ll be posting links and statuses to let you know whenever a new blog is up. If not, just follow me and look for it! There were some people I know who wanted me to continue blogging and have asked me about blogging more than once since I last posted an entry to my old blog. Well, after many years and many maybe-maybe-not’s, I’m back. Without further ado, I welcome you to Here I Blog: The Return of the Blog – Fuel…


For the majority of my life, I’ve hated myself. Whether it was because of my looks, my weight, my personality, my lack of luck with women, my hair, my lack of natural talent – you name it, I probably used it as an excuse to hate myself. I know that, unfortunately, I am not the only person who has felt this way. There are probably thousands of people, men and women, who do or have felt exactly the same way. In the world that we live in, with everything at our fingertips on our phones and tablets, we can look up anything and anyone and compare ourselves. You can feel indifferent about yourself on Monday and after seeing how people respond to someone else who has something that you don’t, you can hate yourself by Tuesday. That’s all it takes sometimes. “Everyone’s complimenting his hair. No one is complimenting my hair. Why not? What’s wrong with my hair? It’s clearly not as good as his. His hair is better than mine. He’s better than I am.” I know this sort of thing happens because I’ve done it, because other people I know have done it. We use other people to devalue ourselves. We can spend the rest of our lives trying to be better than the next person based on nothing else than other people’s personal opinions. Something that we tend to forget about opinions are that they are not facts. They aren’t definitely true. They are subjective. But we’re human and we’re emotional so we turn it into our fact. It’s poison and can lead to something as severe as self-harm and suicide.

This is a fight I’ve been fighting for close to 24 years. Over the last two years, I’ve been fighting back harder than ever. I would be lying if I said dating a woman who I think is far more attractive than me who regularly compliments me doesn’t help a little bit. But that can only help so much. The real weapon has to come from within. There are two women who have really helped to provide me with that weapon in such a significant way: my sister and my girlfriend.

As I mentioned before, I think my girlfriend is far more attractive than I am. I know for a fact that many people happen to agree with me. Despite that, she’s always reassured me that I’m not as bad as I think I am. She regularly challenges me to talk about things I do like about myself and never lets me really complain about something I don’t.

While I know that not everyone can have someone as helpful and supportive in their life like I have had with my girlfriend but what my sister provided me with is something I can provide to anyone who reads this. She provided me with some advice that had a profound effect on me and approach to life. One night, on a drive to Brooklyn from Long Island, we talked about a lot of stuff and being ourselves came up. It had been 10 years since she won her battle with cancer (thyroid). She said to me that when that happened, she realized that there were more important things in life than what other people think of you. That realization, that what someone thinks of me is nothing compared to dealing with something like cancer, has essentially changed my life.

Why the hell did I care so much?

Because I was afraid to not be liked. Her response: “Why do you care? What does it matter?”

She was right. I have no reason. It doesn’t matter.

Since that conversation, whenever something minor upsets me, I just think “there are more important things in life” and, for the most part, I find myself centered again. Clearly, this doesn’t work for anything, because some things are important. But there are so many things that we let take over our lives that really have no reason to.

Since that conversation, I look inward at what I don’t like about myself and why. If I don’t like it, I work to fix it. End of story. I was morbidly obese. I weighed 325 pounds. Fuck it. I fixed it. I hit the gym and changed my lifestyle. It’s been a year and now I’m fitting into sizes I haven’t fit into since I was in my early teens. I’m not done yet but it’s because I’ve decided that I’m not done. Today, I was running home from the gym to get extra cardio in and my knees were starting to stiffen up. I was running out of gas. Fuck that. I said “come on, fat boy. Push it you fat fuck!” let out a yell and sprinted until I couldn’t run anymore. My point?

I no longer let people’s opinions or my failure fuel my self-hatred. I let my former self-hatred fuel my success.


Epilogue

I haven’t been able to come up with a name for my blog that I’m happy with so I’m definitely open to suggestions.

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Dream Deferred (16-16)

“Dream Deferred”

 

Wrap up the cables, pack the tuner,

zip up the bag, and close the door

to the only avenue that ever made sense to me.

Six years ago, I found my place. I found

my savior in the form of six strings and a stage.

I preached your church, drank your tri-tone blood,

ate your scalefull body, practiced your gospel daily.

The path to escaping this life of

poverty and pain was never clearer,

my direction was never straighter,

my life was never more mine,

until one day. I had a decision to make.

I was given a choice. I was given no choice.

Follow the door I opened for myself,

follow a dream, follow my path, or

slam it

shut?

Open a new door, charge in blindly,

and hope for the best?

Six strings; one for every year that my life made sense,

clipped and discarded, for you.

Insomnia (15-15)

“Insomnia”

 

The sheep are overlapping each other,

I have counted to negative one thousand,

The pillow is cool, the sheets are warm,

I ran for a mile, ate all of the right foods,

I listened to the ocean tapes and quiet music,

I have seen the day change, and now the sun rise

for four days now.

In between sheep, my thoughts seep through,

my fears come alive, your face clouds my mind,

your name rings throughout.

In between sheep, I smile.

My hopes come alive, your face clouds my mind,

your name rings throughout.

In between sheep, I cry.

I think of where we went wrong,

my fears come alive, your face clouds my mind,

your name rings throughout.

The sheep are overlapping each other,

I have counted to negative one thousand,

the pillow is cool, the sheets are warm,

I ran for a mile, ate all of the right foods,

I listened to the ocean tapes and quiet music,

I have seen the day change, and now the sun rise

for four days now.

Treasure Pain (14-14)

“Treasure Pain”

 

The map is not paper,

the directions are not in ink.

The screen holds the coordinates

and my brain is left to think

of how to decipher the code

embedded in the lines

that lay in front of me

as I look for the crimes,

its victims, and its perps,

but my eyes are not tools

suited for this mystery.

I could make a fool’s

guess but without the key,

buried inside a fragile heart,

destined for hurt, booby-trapped

from finish to start,

I will never know for sure.

So the question remains:

is me knowing the answer

worth my lover’s pain?

Secrets, Secrets, Lies (13-13)

“Secrets, Secrets, Lies”

 

Secrets, secrets, lies

Secrets, secrets, lies

What are you hiding behind that sweet disguise?

Secrets, secrets, lies

Secrets, secrets, lies

Who is that sneaking out from behind your warm dark eyes?

Secrets, secrets, lies

Secrets, secrets, lies

That’s all I ever get.

 

Secrets, secrets, lies

Secrets, secrets, lies

Sister, brother, girlfriend, mother

Secrets, secrets, lies

Secrets, secrets, lies

Lie more to yourself than you do each other

Secrets, secrets, lies

Secrets, secrets, lies

One day you will regret

 

Secrets, secrets, lies

Secrets, secrets, lies

I’ll take a stand and be honest to no end

Secrets, secrets, lies

Secrets, secrets, lies

I won’t play your games and I won’t pretend

Secrets, secrets, lies

Secrets, secrets, lies

You won’t bury me yet.

Lovercall (12-12)

“Lovercall”

 

The scratch of the skin, the claws on my back,

the sweat on my hands; she savor me, as I

savor her, her touch, her tease, her taste.

I press my lips to hers, sharing my love for her

goddess body that she has blessed me with.

I drink her bliss and moans

as my tongue reintroduces her to God.

Any confidence stripped in a mirror

is suddenly regained with her clench and a scream,

a reminder of my name, a call to her euphoria,

a call from my love. My

Lovercall.

Second to None (11-11)

“Second to None”

 

One of many,

I stand in this line waiting

for you to make your decision,

your selection. The direction you choose

must be clear.

You call my name, I take step forward, you

stop me.

You call the name of another.

You weigh your options and struggle to choose,

announce them as your preference,

expect me to be there if they fail.

You weigh your options and struggle to choose,

but the decision was already made for you.

I step back, back into the line.

I will not be your second choice.

I am no one’s second choice.

I am second to no one.

I am second to none.

Decisions, Decisions (10-10)

“Decisions, Decisions”

 

“He who hesitates is lost,” so they say,

so I jump to make my decisions and declare

who I am before anyone else can play

the cards I was dealt for me, whether just or unfair.

 

If I think too much, I’ll lose what I want

but if I don’t think at all, I may choose wrong

and that’s not something to approach nonchalant,

but it’s something I knew all along.

 

But they also say that life is a journey

and no matter how much you try to advance,

your happiness can end up in a morgue, on a gurney;

just another victim of circumstance.

For the Love of the Game (9-9)

“For the Love of the Game”

 

The feel of the polyurethane under my feet

As I glide along the sealed concrete,

Is oh so bittersweet.

The wind through your body is bliss

but the pain in the boot is something I wouldn’t miss.

The plastic on the fiberglass reinforced wood

sends waves and vibrations all the way up to my hands.

With every cracking sound, my heart skips a beat

and a jolt goes through my spine

as I push force through Sher-Wood or Christian,

sending my efforts to the back of nylon netting.

Gasping for air, I fill my lungs with love

and pain. Tomorrow will brings sores and bruises

and a smile. Until the next game.

Fucked-Up Art Project (8-8)

“Fucked-Up Art Project”

 

From my sleeve, I hand you this

red, beating, pumping,

scotch-taped and super-glued

hollow muscle.

You accept it,

and hold it for the time being,

only to return it with

another piece of tape,

and more dried glue.

This is becoming all-too-common practice.

Too many times now,

I have handed you my heart

and you throw it back.

One day, I’ll drop it,

Let it break,

and won’t bother to pick it up.