Man, under-destruction?

 When I was a kid, I was scared to death of the cellar. Of course, by Eritrean standards, the cellar was just a room where we kept a whole lotta junk, sorta like an above-ground basement or ground-floor attic. Due to my imagination being the way it was at the time (and still is sometimes), I would visualize all sorts of creepy crawlies that inhabited that part of the house, doing whatever it was they did when they weren't busy tormenting me with their antics. It had even gotten to a point where I would swear hearing actual conversations coming from there, until I realized it was just big brother messing with my head, as only he could. But, the experience had left me unsettled. It was only years later, after an admittedly  minuscule  amount of maturity had set in, I realized that at the time, I was just afraid of the dark. While this is something that we all outgrow and even learn how to embrace, the sad fact is, to this day, I can't honestly say that I'm entirely comfortabl

 Before I dive into this, I have a question for those who might know me well, or well enough outside the parameters of this blog. Do I remind you guys of J.D. from Scrubs? Do I bear some resemblance to Zach Braff's character on the hit T.V. show, be it physically, emotionally, psychologically or otherwise? .....anyone? Right, moving right along....  I damn near cried when I saw the series finale. After 8 seasons, the show ended. Personally, I think they did good, leave on a high note and all that. One of the scenes that still breaks my heart is when J.D. and Carla (Zach Braff and Judy Reyes respectively) were saying their on-screen good-byes. The original scene used was edited. In the scene, it showed Carla saying to J.D. "I'm gonna miss you, Bambi" (a well-known pet name that she had for J.D.). But, before the final "cut", J.D. whispered back to her, in her native Spanish, " yo también " (me too). And it was true.  I only bring this up now becau

 I'm going to try something different. With this post, instead of some long, winding beginning that will serve as an eventual on-ramp to my main topic, I'll just jump right in, thereby getting straight to the point, without having to get into a detailed, seemingly random and initially pointless ramble on whatever inanity of life that's taken my fancy at the moment, while trying to incorporate it into my current theme........wait, I just did that. DAMN.  Oh well. Let's try again. Monday was my birthday. I turned 29. Some have pointed out that it is one year shy of the big 3-0. Some have even mentioned that it would officially make me either a young man or an old kid. Some, thought I won't mention who, have even gone so far as to imply that I'm......growing up (perish the thought).....or at the very least, growing old. By the way, to the person who e-mailed me that lovely forward of how I'll look when I hit 60, ha ha, I'm very amused.  I suppose one migh

 I cried during my first day of kindergarten (I don't know why I'm leading with this, but let's run with it). I was inconsolable. I couldn't be stopped. I couldn't be comforted. In fact, according to some, I showed impressive lung capacity with my wailing. Some of the teachers had even wondered if I might eventually earn a living with my loud voice and surprising "breath" when I grew up. Anyways, towards the end of my first day, I was so anxious to get home, to be away from these strangers that I had spent the day with, these other children, hoping to just retreat into the solitude of my own home. So anxious in fact, I had no idea that I would repeat all of that all over again the next day, and for quite a few more after that.  I guess I opened with that because it was a new beginning for me. Admittedly, I could have handled it better, but hey, I could have handled it worse. In fact, several others did, but let's not put their business out there like

 I'm quite baffled by the concept of "game", as I've mentioned in previous entries. I say this because I can't seem to comprehensively postulate a probable theory as to why it works in some cases and not in others. But, I guess everybody's got their moments.   Case in point, my big brother. Now, when in his presence, I'm constantly treated to a spectacle of erratic behavior and slap-in-the-face comments. While he is a brilliant, direct individual that I admire, without getting into specifics, his "game" resembles mating rituals of exotic apes in far off lands that we only become aware of by watching some random show on National Geographic. And yet, he's been laid. I can't fully explain why that surprises me, but like many other things, I guess its like a joke, you just had to be there to get it.  But, it does raise an interesting point. When in the presence of a lady or in the pursuit of getting one's attention, my brother, like a

 They say that parents are the bones upon which children sharpen their teeth. I first heard that when I was 5. Of course, my overwhelming imagination, combined with my timid nature, had me imaging myself in a feral state, gnawing on my parents, struggling to sate my appetite upon their "bones". This led to quite a few nightmares during my pre-school years. Some days, I'm surprised I managed to survive this long without major therapy........I might have told y'all a bit too much about me just now.  Oddly enough, this little flight-of-fancy began not from the idea of disturbing cannibalism nor even from Halloween, but rather from a personal message I found on FaceBook (Thank you, Mr. Zuckerberg). A friend of mine, who recently spent some time with my family, told me how he had so much fun with my parents (lucky bastard). But, it was a passing comment that got me. "Your dad's got GAME!!!!". I didn't want to even imagine what he was talking about or how