Triks's Blog

2 Comments

2 Comments

If you are a Tinkerbell fanatic, don't fuckin' talk to me. Tinkerbell may have had a great ass, but she was nothing but a dirty fucking cuntrag who needed to die. She hated Wendy unrightfully. It wasn't Wendy's fault that Peter Pan liked Wendy and not Tinkerbell. Tinkerbell should have been mad at Peter if she was going to be mad at anyone. But nooooo, Peter Pan could do no wrong in Tinkerbell's eyes (just like a girl to think that way). So Tinkerbell turns her back on everyone almost gets everyone (Wendy, John, Michael, the Lost Boys, even Peter fucking Pan!) killed. What a fucking bitch! And now people like her? Because she was curvy and had an attitude? What the fuck is up with that I ask you!? FUCK HER! FUCK TINKERBELL IN THE ASS! I don't clap for her, but i pray she gets the clap.

Alright then.....Just needed to get some anger out.....Phew

Sorry Tink!

 -Cheers

 Triks

2 Comments

Hello Bloggers!

Today is the day that I stop writting blogs for a little while. I haven't been feeling it. I can't seem to put things down in writting....Not to be cocky but I believe that I am an okay writter, journalist, whatever. I have a lot on my mind, wierd things have been happening that I cannot explain. Can this be an evil energy? Huh, well it makes perfect sense..think about it...I am under a lot of stress, I am sick, problems here and there...aren't they attracted by negativity? Maybe its just a trick that my mind is playing on me or I just need a vacation to get my mind of it. Talking about vacations....I have been feeling a bit adventurous so this is where I am going.......ready?

AHORA VOY A PERU!

-Hasta luego

Triks

12 Comments

Recently family and coworkers brought to my attention that I have been emotionally comatose for the past three years. This is not a metaphor; my body has stopped producing adequate amounts of the chemicals responsible for making me feel. I'm a 22-year-old man. I used to run 20 miles a week, I skated five days a week, I used to manage a big retail store while running my own transportation business and I went to school full time (before I graduated). I have been living like this for about 2 and a half years, making sure that every night before I went to bed there was not a drop of energy left to wring from my body.

The farther from the world I get, the more ok I have become with being detached from it. There is a version of me at the end of a very dark pool; the world looks far away and blurry. Had no one suggested that I go see a doctor I would have kept on swimming toward the bottom not thinking that anything was seriously wrong.

Average testosterone levels in men sit somewhere between 1200 nanograms per deciliter (DPM) (25 year old N.F.L. linebacker, Tommy Lee, that personal trainer at your gym who wont stop calling about your free consultation), to 250 DPM (A 75-year-old man). My doctor recently informed me that I'm at about 122.

In our society Testosterone is often viewed as the guy at the party who shows up late only wanting to fight you and sleep with the girl you have been flirting with all night, Testosterone seems to make things get ugly. We tend to accredit it with such brilliant innovations as professional wrestling, lifted pick up trucks and war. We often fail to recognize that Testosterone is also in some way responsible for all human life. With out it, it would be impossible to procreate, maintain much of an attention span or feel any kind of excitement.

I am a physically capable person, or at least I'd like to think so. So much so that my body has broken the tap off of my intellectual and emotional keg. Every moment I may have had to reflect on the absence of substance in my life, was filled with pushups or algebra. I read the news compulsively, collecting facts and statistics that may affect other people emotionally. I study them, watch their reactions and try to copy them.

Boring, anxious, compulsive thoughts filled up most of my waking life. For example, I could think about what I am going to eat for lunch from the time stop eating lunch the day before until the time I prepare the lunch for the current day. I could worry about this meal until my life was completely contingent upon its execution; everything about it becomes a cause of worry and hopelessness. Strangely I didn't think about lunch while I was eating and I usually always had the same thing.

Dead, empty and hallow, I sound like a Nine Inch Nails song or a character in a Bret Easton Ellis novel. I could go months without thinking about sex; months without having it. . I was like a goldfish in a 22 year-olds body. I was suffocated with a fear of incompetence at all times. There was a running stream of horrifying negativity plaguing every moment of my life.

About 18 days ago I breached the surface. My doctor prescribed me to hormone replacement therapy (HRT). Now every morning I lather myself in chemicals, walk around my apartment shirtless for a half hour until they dry and then go experience life as the rest of the world does; as I haven't for the past few years.

When in mid resuscitation, the human mouth bites violently at the air, as though the body is in such desperate need for oxygen that the atmosphere itself becomes edible. Picture the gold fish you took home from a fair, before you dropped it in the tank letting it snap back and forth in the foreign air like a baseball card in bicycle spokes. Picture Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction with a stiletto sized syringe dangling out of her chest. Remember the feeling of your first belly flop. The surface of the water sucker punching you, sending you ripping violently through the water. Do you  remember what the air tasted like?

The first thing I noticed was the absence of fear, not any of any specific thing or person, but an overwhelming calm replaced the constant stream of terror.

Now it gets kind of strange, it has become incredibly difficult to motivate myself to do anything that I don't absolutely want to do. Moreover I am realizing that I have spent the majority of these past few years avoiding anything that brought me pleasure because the absence of pleasure was the closest thing to feeling that I was capable of. Think of the relief you felt when you finally ripped that first breath of air into your lungs, you would have never known that pleasure with out the horrifying experience of nearly drowning. My logic was to keep drowning myself until eventually I remembered the feeling of relief at the bottom of the pool (remember my brain was functioning like an mechanical wheelchair in a NASCAR race.).

0 Comments

Hello fellow bloggers!

I have a question that has been kinda sorta bugging me. For those of you who read my blogs know that I have Bone Cancer. I have gone to treatment twice, and it is not looking good for me. I get cold sweat, shivers, pain, whatever.

Now, my question is........

I want to be a father.....I am only 22 years of age....college grad, starting Med school in the Fall (IDK if that is going to happen now) and I own a transportaion business. I think I am doing pretty good right now.

Should my girlfriend and I have a baby?

I don't know if I should or not.....this is why, I don't want to leave my girlfriend and our baby left behind. There is a possiblility that I might survive and there is a bigger chance I won't.

What do you guys think?

Even if we really want to have one, should we?

Please help me out....let me know what you guys think.

-Cheers

Mark G. 

11 Comments

People in our lives come and go. It's the flow of growing, of changing, of being a part of something. Give in to it but don’t neglect the self. Realize that no matter, you have to be there for you. The world is finicky. Be your own best friend, your own lover, your own support. Others inspire, change, give, take, and offer many great additions to life. I am in love with interaction. I am in love with relationships; the play, the commingling of personalities, of emotions. We fertilize each other with attributes desperately needed to soar. It is beautiful. But don't become reliant. Others offer stimulation but you must possess your core. Hold your own hand and be Alone. Then and only then can we take what is for us and thrive. And give effortlessly what is abundant.

2 Comments

There is no "good" part of Texas. There are good people in Texas, good things from Texas and important history that took place because of Texas. However I have found litle to justify the injustices done in the name procuring Texas for the sake of Texas. Most of if looks like the surface of the moon and is about as culturally advanced as a kidney stone.

I spent an unreasonable chunck of my early teen years in a tour van in Texas and I discovered a hunger inbedded in the belly of the most overweight state in America. Texas must be seen alone, by it's self and by yourself, to be understood. When I was moving to Los Angeles a Doe hit me about 150 miles outside of Dallas. I experienced what I like to call the "Human in the Deer lights" phenomenon. Being Surthern Californian by blood you are conditioned to expect certain things will happen (being cut-off, swerving to avoid children, transients, and hipsters on bikes...ect.). The Deer in the surface of the moon,  in the absence of everything but the hiccupping of the median line reflecting against my yellow headlights, absolutly is one of the most terrifyingly beautiful things this world can offer. I swerved hard left into an empty lane of the opposing traffic and she continued her diliberate steady pace directly into the right side of my van. At this point my sympathetic nervous system broke he top off my body's fight or flight gage, folding my blood with adrenaline and sugar dilating my pupils and redirecting all my blood flow to the muscle groups reserved usually for pushups . You really haven't lived until something has killed itself agaisnt you.

The van was nearly totaled and barely made it the next ten miles to Cisco to find out that it was the first weekend of hunting season, I had landed the first kill. I tagged her on Saturday night which meant that I would be stuck wherever I was until Monday afternoon; people only do two things on a Sunday in Cisco, Texas. Morning mass and evening mass. Thus, Texas hit me much like a Deer on the surface of the moon, warm, awkward and horrifying. I ended up staying four days until what was (and still is) left of my van was salvaged into a terminator of shear botched backyard brilliance.

Texas forces you to slow down; since 1976 it has executed 405 people and currently has 393 inmates awaiting execution . When you drive east into El Paso from New Mexico along the U.S boarder and look to the right, you can see the dirt floored huts of Juarez from the Wal-Mart parking lot across the boarder. There is no parking at the Alamo. It raises up from the golf of Mexico to Guadalupe peek 8,479 feet. Currently over 25% of Texas is obese; the state itself takes up 7.4% of the country. There are ranches in Texas bigger than the state of Rhode Island. And ofcourse lets not forget, the first word ever spoken on the moon was "Houston". Texas is a big roadblock, a speed bump made up of people who lost their momentum or will to drive half way through. Object in motion tend to stay in motion; objects at rest tend to stay at rest. I opened the door to my second story pastel and stucco-landed hotel room in Cisco and sat across the room on the bed. A room that had probably never had anyone willingly complelled to spend more than one night in. A room, in a hotel, in a town where the first Hilton was built in 1919. A town Paris Hilton has never heard of. I looked out across the homes of some 3, 851 residence. And it stuck me like a human in the Deer lights; there is something quite dead here. However, what I've been able to figure out is weather Texas killing itsleft against America or if it's the other way around.

3 Comments