FML...

Exactly what have I done...to warrant getting kicked while I'm down. Bad news on top of hopeless fantasies. The moon that you'll never grab out of the sky...the stars that twinkle tears from distant galaxies. Whats interesting is the girl that I care for the most...I've talked to the least in the last few years...and yet I know her the best. You ever sat down and really think about connections that you've made in the past and how they've sort of drifted apart...The few things that I've come to love about my past...and they're crumbling beneath me. I look for things to hold on to, faith that things will work out...but I just bask in hurt. I feel like bugs bunny on the train tracks. I see myself in the shit but obviously Ima be ok...everything will work out...BANG!...train ran me the fuck over...Doctor...am I gonna live? Well...ur pretty messed up...looks like a girl was driving that train...FML!

Just Second Best...

Ever felt that you were someone's number two? It sucks...it's not the best feeling in the world...and admittedly I put myself in that position a lot in order to keep myself at a distance from running into "relationships" that I'd rather just keep at a "hooking up" level. At the same time though...there are the select few, that I wish I wasn't second best, that I want to put them at the top of my list. I want to be loved and to love someone. When you get shoved to the side...for someone else...it's an awful feeling. In the end I do want the people that I truly care about to just be happy, no matter what that means, but sometimes, I just wish that one of them was happy with me. =(

HER

Have you ever met someone that you felt so close to. Someone that just filled the hole in that empty space? This post is different than others because...my mind is different than normal right now. She is beautiful, she is amazing, she is smart, and she is perfect. What more can someone ask for? I really can't right much about HER right now bcause i am going to sleep and staying awake is harder than actually writing. I miss her with every inch of me...and i didnt get to talk 2 her tonight. She completes the night for me and when i dont talk 2 her its like space without the stars, infinitely empty. I hope people find those that they should be with and hold on to them. There are few reasons that people shouldnt be together and if they are not one of them, dont fuck up. Go after the person you care about and make them happy. It's the best feeling in the world to make the person you care about the most smile when their situation doesnt allow them to on their own. I really can't stay awake anymore but i will leave you with this. Care for those you can, love who you must, and speak to who you want. Life can pass by quick, but the question is....will you let it?

Memories oh memories!

I just feel like writing now, but talking to someone recently, makes me a tad bit inspired. I'm sure I've said this in other posts (if not then your hearing it now), real friends are hard to come by. Sometimes people lose touch and it does happen. You want to know the best way to tell what kind of friends you are after a time apart...start talking to them again, and is there any sense of distance? Can you talk to them like you never left? I've known two people like that in  my life so far. I don't exactly like to "keep in touch" per say but I'll say "hi" every now and again...drop you a facebook comment...even a text or two. There are some people though who leave such an impact on you that you want to talk to them as much as possible.

I'll share a tad bit about who I'm talking about without saying any names. In 7th grade I met this girl at the end of the school year. I don't remember much about why I was in her class room, seeing as how it was a 6th grade class, but I do remember her. She had hair up to her shoulders, geeky glasses, and navy sweat pants with a blue polo. At first all I saw was her ass...frankly because she was turned away from me...taking down work from the wall as the year came to a close. Obviously that was kind of the point where I looked at her for the rest of the package. She turned around and I was fairly surprised. I go through a series of criteria for girls that are really worth my time and effort.

1: Confidence: the way you carry yourself is important...if you look like you don't mean shit...there's not much I can say.

2: Smile: You could be a Maxim cover model...but if your smile makes me throw-up a little...you are no longer attractive.

3: Humor: I like laughing, I like smiling, so the girl has to have a sense of humor...obviously.

I met this girl and all these things were met. She walked like nothing mattered (a little tomboy walk :-P), she had a great smile and she was witty with a great sense of humor. Jackpot.

We hung out some of my senior year of junior high...but I'm not sure why I never asked her out. I look back on it now and it's probably because I was a puss back then but regardless...it never happened. She was one of the good one's though. In high school we talked every now and again, but she had a boyfriend and after a time, we grew further apart. I thought about her sometimes and missed the conversations we used to have. I really didn't have any balls back then though because she lived, literally, two blocks from me...and I think I only saw her like...once or twice outside. We took the train in the morning on the way to our respective high schools once in a while. I went out of my way to take the local train which made me late sometimes...but I didn't care...I liked spending time with her.

Then she moved away...wtf. She went from being 20 seconds from me to 20 minutes. Now 20 minutes may not seem like an issue but it was in NJ. It's kind of a bitch to get over there...that and my mother didn't want me going to NJ (told you I was kind of a puss). I wanted to visit her but I never did.

Then I went off to college. Now we were really far away from each other, but by these time...we barely talked anymore. We had our cordial conversations every so often, but we were drifting further apart. I always wanted to be her friend. I wanted to be there when she needed someone for whatever reason but distance didn't help matters. She got into another relationship and I was happy for her. I got into a relationship myself and things were going great for the both of us...but that's when we really lost touch.

Recently, after months of her being gone from the internet world...and NEVER texting me back, she magically appeared on AIM. We started talking again...and it was like no time had passed at all. We joke, we talk about our lives, and I'd like to believe we both genuinely like talking to each other. I've known her since I was 12 years old, and we're still great friends to this day. I can tell her anything and I know that I have fun with her. I consider her one of my best friends.

To the man that has everything...and nothing

I've been very fortunate throughout my life. I've met some wonderful people, had a caring family, made great friends in the past and some have become best friends in the present, and have succeeded where many have failed. I have a car, a "job", some materialistic things, a good head on my shoulders, and a demeanor that I  am proud to have grown into. All my life, the luck that I had makes me the person I am today, and for that I am grateful.

Girlfriends were something of a touchy subject with me. The idea of a girlfriend presents itself with a wide array of positives but like anything, an abundance of negatives as well. The one thing I miss about a relationship is the connection. I miss being able to talk to someone I love and feel complete and utter comfort. I like to mess around with girls but I started thinking: Do I have all this sex to fill a void where love should be present? I realize, there is no way to fill that void with sex, it merely numbs it. It's the Vicodin to my condition.

At this point...I wouldn't mind a relationship...but I won't seek one out. I refuse to force myself to "date" and there for soil what a relationship, to me, is. I like the "love at first sight" kinda thing. When I saw her, Cupid's arrow pierced my body and went into hers, connecting us, and making an inevitable bond. Bond's can break, this is true, but I don't like to rush into these things. Relationships are not to be played with, in my opinion. If I'm going into a relationship, I have to believe it has potential to go somewhere, otherwise it's just another fix. I'm all "fixed" out...

I don't know when I will find a girl that I can have that connection with, but when I do, I know that I'll no longer feel the pain left by the gaping hole in my chest.

Get Well Soon George...

I stare at my computer sometimes wanting to write...other times I stare wondering what to do...other times...I'm compelled to write. Today...I'm compelled to write. I sleep for hours on end because there's nothing else to do. Without my car, George, I'm practically immobile. I refuse to take the train because then I get the excessive worrying from my mother. Yea yea I know it's because she cares, but it doesn't make enjoying a night that much easier when every couple of minutes I get "When are you coming home?", "Where are you?", "It's getting late.", "Are you taking the train?", "I don't want you taking the train, it's too dangerous." "I can't sleep until your home and I have work in the morning."

Really? That would annoy anybody after a while. I love my mother but sometimes the nagging isn't healthy...and that's why I've been hibernating...to avoid ALL of that. No George, no freedom, no fun.

George and I have seen some good times in the last year. He's like a middle aged man...still in working order but you know it's not gonna get any better. Thanks to George though, I've seen Coney Island many times now, I've been to this huge ass mall in NJ, I've taken a road trip to Steel Town (Pittsburgh), and driving to Buffalo. I love that car and because of me, his leg is broken and he's got some bruises.

I'm sorry for losing control of you George, I never meant to hurt you. Ima fix you up and ur gonna be good as new...hopefully.

We sometimes take things for granted, like I took my car for granted, but now I got a taste of what life is like when you fuck up...when you break something that you never appreciated, like you should have, in the first place. I'm going to take better care of George and no more irresponsible or risky decisions in that car. He's gonna take care of me, like I will take care of him. Get well soon George, everyone misses you.

Waking Up at 1am

I've exhausted myself by doing nothing. My father and I picked up his car from Connecticut today. That drive is draining. An hour and a half each way...and we went just to come straight back. It's time for me to go back to Buffalo. I love being home sometimes...seeing my friends (Desmond, Yasmin, Crystal, Steph, Chery, etc.) but at the same time...I hate being bitched at every day...getting told I'm selfish everyday, getting treated like I'm irresponsible because I got into a car accident, like I'm not the one who went through it...like I haven't beaten up myself enough already.

Women wonder why men can sit and ignore the things around them, things that are said, things that are done...No one can stand being nagged at, bitched at, or blamed ALL THE TIME. Eventually most of us grow a switch which we just turn on and tune out. Women do this too if they've gone through enough blame and bitching but it happens to men more than women. So next time your boyfriend seems like he's tuning you out (or your girlfriend) take a step back...find out why he/she is being a rude bastard and fix it like a couple should. Don't be a nagger either...no one likes that shit.

Reading over what I just wrote, that's a hell of a thought for just waking up. Sometimes free-writes can help...their not the organized "story" writing that I usually like to do but it helps to write down the way I'm feeling. I can reflect a lot better and it helps me to get over whatever I'm pissed off about. If your reading this...just remember that you don't have to take writing classes to write...you just need a story and some determination. Sigh...now I'm not tired...shit.

What Do You Want From Me?

What Do You Want From Me?

I don’t know what you want from me

You don’t want me to fail but you never help me succeed

You want me to be happy but you always make me livid

You want me to join you but you always leave me behind

I don’t know what you want from me

You want me to “be myself” but seem ashamed of me

You want me to be supportive but exclude me from your life

You want me to tell you that your beautiful but your heart makes you hideous

I know what you want from me

You want me to tell you that I love you but I can’t.


-Omar Artola

The Mound: A Pitcher’s Revelation

The Mound: A Pitcher’s Revelation

        There are many things in life that make people feel powerful: money, cars, women, etc. But to those select few, the pitching mound is the key to all power. A pitching mound is, relatively, the same everywhere you go. They’re used for the same purpose and give you that same sense of power. To understand this power, you must understand baseball and its intricacies. Baseball is a game dealing with, generally, 5 main points: reflex, skill, determination, discipline, and respect. When you’re up on that mound, another point hits you: responsibility. I have been friends with the mound since 1995 and many people don’t understand what comes with the total control of the baseball, but I do.

       The mound is not for the faint of heart. Once you’re up there, you are responsible for the tempo and the outcome for most of the game. Let me take you through the heart of a pitcher.

       Before the game starts, you warm up. You hold the baseball by its seams, wind up, and throw the ball with all your might. Now many people think pitcher’s wait for the ball to be called by the umpire to find out if it’s a strike or a ball, but the truth is the second the ball leaves your hand, you know whether it’s a good ball or it’s not. There’s not really a scientific reason for it, but you just get that warm feeling of perfection or the cold shivers of a ball that’s about to be obliterated by the batter (in that case all you do is pray it’s not a home run). While your warming up this is what you think about; it’s the pregame jitters. Warming up is not only to loosen your arm, but also it gives you a chance to mentally prepare yourself for the competition ahead.

       The moment you hear, “PLAY BALL!” shouting out the umpire’s mouth, it’s no longer a game but a fight. You walk up to the mound while the others jog to their positions. You walk because you need time to connect with the one thing that will help you win this 9 inning fight; the pitching mound. Once you reach the hump shaped dirt, you have to mold it to your comfortability. With the spikes, on the bottom of your cleats, you scrape away a spot for your foot and slip into the hole; this will give you your pitching power. With one foot on the hole and one foot on the white rubber strip, you’ve partnered up with the mound and are now ready to fight. As the game begins you see the batter walk up with his weapon of choice; a baseball bat. 2lbs of solid wood specifically made to humiliate you and make you look unskilled.

       The batter steps up, sets his stand, and challenges you with a solid glare. You return the glare, wind up, push off the mound, and throw. You’ve felt the push, you’ve felt the release of the ball, and everything seems perfect; you see the ball fly right to the catcher’s mitt. “STRIKE ONE!” yells the umpire. You tell yourself, “Two more”, and set up again. You may hear some noises in your head, “Can you do two more? Are you good enough? He’s going to hit it…” Take a deep breath, shake it off, and reset. You wind up, push off the mound, and throw. You’ve felt the push, you’ve felt the release of the ball, and, this time, you know you’ve messed up. The ball curves inside towards the batter. If it hits him, you just gave away a base, if you miss him it’s a ball. All in all, you have to be wishing for the ball. The ball zooms towards the plate and barely misses the batter. The umpire bellows, “BALL!” Now you’re a little worried about what’s going to happen next. You wind up, push off the mound, and throw. You’ve felt the push, you’ve felt the release of the ball, and it feels good. It zooms toward the catcher’s mitt, but there’s something wrong; the batter has decided that this is a good ball to swing at and he does. The bat makes solid contact with the ball. “Damn” you think, you just messed up. You remember that you’re not alone though. The ball bolts on the ground toward the second baseman; he picks catches it and throws it to the first baseman. “OUT!” roars the first base umpire. You’re saved and you still have a lot of work to do so you and the mound should get to it.

       Disrespecting the mound will always get you in trouble. I know this first hand. After I entered high school, I gave up baseball. I believed that I was wasting my time with it and that I could be doing other things. I tried other sports: volleyball, soccer, basketball, football, and many more. None of these sports filled the hole that was left from leaving baseball. My junior year of high school, I realized this and tried to go back. I stepped up on that mound, did the usual, but there was something wrong. I didn’t feel the power I usually felt; I felt weak and alone. My pitches kept getting returned, ten-fold, by the batter, and for the first time I couldn’t pitch.

       I’d lost my lifelong friend. When I abandoned the mound, it had abandoned me. It’s something that I wish I could change in my life but I can’t. The mound is helping those who’ve never abandoned it while I live my life with the thought that the days I used to be great are over, forever.

Does This Sound Relaxing to You?

One Fine Winter Evening in the Poconos

She Knocks
The Sun inches closer and closer to his departure
Green grass covered by a sheath of ice
She enters
Naked towers of wood cover what little Sun is left
Darkness engulfs everything
She smiles
Twilight gone, there is only space
The diamonds of the universe twinkle in the onyx sky
She gazes
The winter air fights with my steaming cup of hot chocolate
Body chilled to the touch, time to go inside
She walks

Fireplace snickers at my moth eaten robe
She sits
Body thawing out
She teases
I am warm in the cold
She kisses
It is summer in the winter
I am happy

The Power of Persuasion

My Superpower

       Many people say that a mind is a terrible thing to waste. In my case, my mouth is a terrible thing to waste. It all started many years ago when my mouth began to form different shapes and sound words. The mouth is one of the greatest conduits for expressing feelings and opinions. It is also a tool for manipulation.

       Over the years I have developed a skill to, most of the time, get people to do what I want. My mouth is not nervous when it is working. It does not stumble, does not freeze up, and does not falter. I have always spoken as a person who is more mature that my age would suggest. My eloquent speech always made an impression on people, interviews were a synch, and motivational speaking made more of an impact to my target audience.

       If one wonders when I truly realized that my mouth was a gift, it would have to be in December. My mother is a teacher in NYC. She teaches 7th graders, who, because they live in NYC, believe they need to be in gangs, do drugs, drink alcohol, and have sex before their even teenagers. My mother is worried about these kids and asked me to come in and shock them a little bit as I would identify a bit better than “the teacher”.  My main goal was to make sure these kids knew that I grew up in NYC and did none of what they’re doing now. Of course I was told that their families weren’t conducive to success. My main point at that time was, “It’s an excuse. I don’t want you to ‘fail’ at life and then blame everyone else but the person you really should be blaming: yourself. There have been people throughout history who have been successful and have done historic things and didn’t have the most ideal living situations. Don’t cripple yourself by making excuses on why you can’t do something, but make them into reasons why you have to be successful and do what you never thought you can do.”

       I spent about one hour talking to them and I could see them taking in what I was telling them. I’m not expecting them to instantly change their life but I do hope that it reduces the dangerous chances they take at such a young age in such a dangerous city.

       My mouth is my favorite part because it gives benefits to more people than just me. I hope my mouth continues to stay strong, intelligent, and willing to help others just like Tony Robbins, just maybe not as big.

The Hidden Darkness: Death of a Superhero

The Death of a Superhero

       “Life is something that many take for granted.” That saying is something people don’t pay attention to. Many times you need some kind of push in order to realize life isn’t guaranteed. I know this because I have one brother when I should have two. On May 13, 2002 my eldest brother, Yanny, committed suicide in NYC, where I grew up. It was the worst day of my life.

July, 2000
       Yanny was my superhero. Superheros are primarily fictional characters that you just hear stories about. It felt the same way with my brother. He was my half brother, on my father’s side, and didn’t live in the United States. When I was younger, however, I heard stories about him and saw pictures of him. When I was 10 years old my family, finally, decided to take a vacation to Nicaragua, my father’s home country. In Nicaragua I met all the cousins, the grandparents, and the aunts and uncles. With all these people I now knew, I still wasn’t happy that I had not met my brother. Four days after I arrived in Nicaragua I finally met him. It wasn’t the most traditional meeting nor was it emotional, but it was funny. It was very early in the morning when I was awoken to a calm voice saying “levantate ”. As I opened my eyes, a blurry figure appeared before me. My vision cleared and I saw the person I had waited to see my whole life; I saw Yanny. He had a smile on his face. He had a smooth, long, face with very light skin. He was 6’4’’, just like Superman but he wasn’t as muscular. His body silhouetted with the ceiling light and gave him an angelistic glow. When I saw him I didn’t say “Hi”, I didn’t cry and hug him, I just fell back asleep on his lap. As I drifted asleep I dreamt; I dreamt about growing up with Yanny, him coming to my baseball games, defending me when I got in trouble. When I awoke, I realized that they were fake memories, things I had wished happened while I was growing up but never happened. Now that we were a complete family, however, I was going to make those fake memories to real ones; I was determined to fill the hole in my life.

       The two week vacation in Nicaragua was up and we were getting packed to leave. I was very upset because that meant saying goodbye to my brother. I didn’t want to leave him now that I knew him. I pleaded with my mother to stay in Nicaragua but she didn’t budge. I couldn’t understand why we were just going to leave him. My mother then said words that made me very happy, “Yanny is coming to live with us.” “Victory!”, I thought. I ran around, laughed, and went to tell my brother Ahmed the good news. That night we all celebrated and I couldn’t wait to go back home.

       Yanny spent two years in the United States before he died. We had become very close in that short amount of time. He only stayed at our house for a couple of months after arriving. He was 22 years old and didn’t want a curfew, or rules set by my parents. He went to live with my uncle to be free from rules and that’s where the problems began. While with my uncle, Yanny started to drink. Every day he would drink until he fell asleep. When he was with me though, he wouldn’t drink. That’s how I knew that he cared about me. There were those little things that showed me that I was his brother and an important part of his life. He began to change though. His face was no longer happy, smooth, and that glow had faded. He became dark, kept to himself, and never talked to anyone about his true feelings.  I was only 12 at the time; I was mature for my age but in retrospect I couldn’t have expected a 22 year-old man to think a 12 year old boy could understand what he was going through. This was the beginning of the superhero’s downfall.


May 11, 2002
       After September 11, 2001, NYC was shaken and rattled. Everyone was on their toes about terrorism and bombs. Yanny came over for dinner. I was very excited, as always, to see my brother.  My mother sent me on an errand to the store to buy some groceries. I asked Yanny to come with me. As we left my apartment and waited for the elevator I asked him, “How are you doing?”

“Not too good”, he answered.

“Well what’s wrong?” The words that came next will haunt me till the day I die, or get Alzheimer’s.

“I’m thinking about killing myself.”

       As a 12 year-old this answer was something that I didn’t take seriously and laughed at. We both laughed, actually, and went to buy the groceries.

       In every comic book, in every movie, the superhero always needs help. Sometimes it’s from another superhero; other times by someone without powers, the last person you’d expect to be of any use. There was my chance to save the superhero and I blew it. Some would say that it was too much for a twelve year old to handle. Is that really the point though? He told me what he was going to do and I shrugged it off. All my life I look up to those who save lives, but when it was my turn to step to the plate, I chickened out.

May 13, 2002
    This is the dreadful day that I will always remember, step by step, word for word, action for action. I arrived from school at about 4:30 along with my father, who had just gotten off from work. As my father was changing into more comfortable clothing, the phone rang. I ran to pick it up. “Hello?” My uncle responded in a hysterical voice.
   
“OMAR!? YANNY’S DEAD!”
   
My heart stopped and I calmly responded, “No he’s not, I saw him two days ago.”

“YES YES! YANNY KILLED HIMSELF! HE’S DEAD!”
   
       I dropped to the floor and began to cry. Gasping for air, I crawled to my father as he screamed, “WHAT’S WRONG?”  He took the phone and I passed out. That is about two minutes of that day that I don’t remember. When my father shook me awake he said, “Get ready we’re going to Tio Miguel’s. Call your mother.”
   
       I got up and called my mother, almost choking for air as I did it. “Mommy, ‘gasp’ Yanny ‘gasp’ killed ‘gasp’ himself ‘gasp’. Dad ‘gasp’ and ‘gasp’ I ‘gasp’ are ‘gasp’ going ‘gasp’ to ‘gasp’ Tio ‘gasp’ Miguel’s.”
   
       My dad and I left soon after that. The sky was crying for its loss. The rain poured on my head as the thunder angrily roared in the heavens. My superhero was gone and the sky knew. When the first raindrop hit my face, as I left home, that’s when I knew it was real. I cried along with the sky until I reached the car. I wasn’t alone with my feelings and that calmed me down a bit. The sky followed me all the way to my brother’s house. My father got out of the car and told me to lock the door and stay in the car. I nodded emotionless, because I knew the sky would be with me. Minutes, that seemed like seconds went by.  My father returned, opened my door and sobbed in my arms. It was the first and only time I saw my father cry. “He’s dead. I can’t believe it. My baby is dead.” I could do nothing but take what should have been my father’s role and gave him a shoulder to cry on.
   
       When my brother, Ahmed and mother arrived, we all went inside the house. Yanny’s body was inside a room, and the police would not let us enter. When the police were done with their investigation, they carried out Yanny’s body in a black bag. I could see the shape of his limp body dangle from the bottom of the bag. I never thought I would see my brother dragged off to the morgue. In fact, there were many things I thought I’d never see. I never thought I’d see my mother in pain, and my father and my brother cry for the first time. Superheros don’t do that; they make people happy, they strive to help others and that’s what I thought my brother was. You see, the death of the superhero didn’t come about because he wasn’t living, but because he cause so much pain to the people, I thought, he loved and cared for the most. The hardest thing to do out of all this was to realize he wasn’t the superhero I thought he was and he wasn’t the man I thought he was, it was all just fake.
   
       I took both deaths pretty hard and to this day I’m not entirely over it. He fades from my memory a little each day. There is one thing I realized from this whole experience. I will be a superhero one day. I will love my family, I will raise my children and I will live until life says my job as a superhero is over. I will never quit and selfishly escape my duties as a superhero. I will never be like my brother.

Cape and Cowl (Why Batman?)

Cape and Cowl

      When I grew up watching cartoons Saturday morning cartoons were TV show with action, entertainment, and morals. Saturday morning cartoons, now, are about pure violence and no concern for good and evil, right and wrong, selfless and selfish. Cartoons like “Space Ghost”, “Birdman”, “Justice Friends”, and “Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers” all were entertaining and always ended the show reinforcing things like: “Crime doesn’t pay”, “Family, friendship, and teamwork are the most important things”, “Justice always prevails”, and “Never kill”. This is what, to me, made cartoons worth watching; cartoons are one of the top places that kids, today, learn their morals.

       Cartoons today are all butchered. The animation doesn’t carry with it the ambiance of the show (or maybe it’s just not interesting). They have no depth of character or emotion to them. Over the years I have seen good cartoons come and go as the terrible ones have taken their place. There was one cartoon that has stood the test of time, and to this day remains as one of the best cartoons of all time: “Batman the Animated Series”.
      
       Batman was a revolutionary cartoon. It was the first cartoon to be featured as “mini movies”. It was a show that had something for everyone. If you were a kid, you had that role model to look up to, the hero to admire, and if you were an adult, you had that emotional story of Bruce Wayne and Batman to follow.
Not everyone watched Batman growing up or thought they were too old by the time this show came on so I am just going to give a little bit of background about him. He was born Bruce Wayne to parents Dr. Thomas and Martha Wayne. Bruce was 10 years old when his parents were killed, in an alley on the way home from the movie theater, while getting mugged by a small time crook named Joe Chill. After watching both his parents get shot, he lived with the thought that he should have been able to do something and at 10 years old he stopped being a kid and took on the weight of world on his shoulders. He inherited his father’s billions of dollars and this paved the way for him to study martial arts, create the Bat cave, and create all of his gadgets (i.e. Batmoblie, Batwing, Batcycle, etc.). It took him many years to believe he was ready to steadily go out into the night and stop the injustices that took place in Gotham City. Using his fear of bats he had idea that he would embody the symbol of his fear, "Criminals are a superstitious and cowardly lot so my disguise must be able to strike terror into their hearts. I must be a creature of the night, black, terrible...” He used his dark persona to blend into the night, to allow the innocent to walk their streets, live in their homes safely and without fear, to be a guardian angel to the innocent and a nightmare to the wicked.

       The story of Batman goes far beyond the typical hero story of loved ones dying and vowing to stop the injustices of the world. Batman’s story is darker. He cannot move on from his parents’ death. Watching the show you can hear the difference in the voice between Batman and Bruce Wayne; Batman’s voice is deep and dark, where as Bruce Wayne’s voice is soft and calm. Many believed, myself included, that his mysterioso voice was his actual voice where as his softer voice was his voice he used as a cover up. In many episodes you can see Bruce without the cape and cowl on and still talking in that dark voice when around Robin or his butler and long time family friend Alfred Pennyworth. In an episode entitled, “Forgotten”, Bruce Wayne lost his memory after getting hit on the head by a member of the mafia, while undercover as a street criminal, he awoke realizing that he had been taken off the street to, forcefully, work in the coal mines. When he first awoke, he spoke with his softer voice. I believe that him being in a state of amnesia, allows his true self to appear and therefore his softer voice is actually his normal voice. The voice you hear from Batman most of the time is not even his real voice. It is the voice that reflects his demons and the pain that he uses to fight. This is the complexity of Batman.

       One of my favorite episodes (they’re all my favorite) is entitled, “Beware the Grey Ghost”. It was an episode paying homage to the first person to play Batman, Adam West. This episode was about a show that Batman grew up watching entitled “The Grey Ghost”. A crazed Grey Ghost fan decides to play the role of the “Mad Bomber”, a villain on the show. Batman recognizes the RC car bombs, which were used to blow up buildings around Gotham, from the Grey Ghost show. Simon Trent, Adam West’s character, was the actor from the old television show the Grey Ghost. He ends up putting on the Grey Ghost suit one more time, in a more serious setting this time, and helping Bruce Wayne to take down the Mad Bomber. To see the Grey Ghost, knowing it was played by the original Batman, right next to the new Batman, seemed like a passing of the torch; it seemed like the right thing to do.

       I could ramble on and on about Batman, but I’ll spare the trees of the world. When I’m 30 years old I’ll talk about him just like I was 11 years old again. Batman is a timeless classic that will evolve and, hopefully get better (unless they butcher it like it is now in “Batman: Brave and the Bold”). Batman is not a man, he is not a god, he is a symbol. Anyone can fight crime, but not everyone can strike fear into criminals and relief into the innocent at the same time. Somewhere along the years, it became uncool to like superheroes and watch cartoons, unless you were six, but I think this is the best place to put all the things kids need to learn, because it’s where they look the most. Emulating Batman doesn’t have to be fighting, it can and should be about what he stands for. So moms and dads, let your kids watch superheroes; let them expand their imagination into a world far beyond our own; let them want to rectify the maladies of the world, it will only make them a better person. Those of you who read this to laugh at the “losers” who watch superheroes just remember that this is a relatively long paper. Something must have kept you reading. Give it a chance and understand what it brings to people’s lives. Watch Batman, watch Superman, and really pay attention to the subtle undertone and the personal stories of the characters and then tell me it’s not only interesting but somewhat beneficial. Don’t let cartoons consume your life though, but allow them to glaze the imagination and make an impact in your life because everyone needs a hero.

You think you had problems?

Oedipus in a Nutshell

Life is a funny thing
Your mother brings you into the world
A voice tells her you will kill the king
She takes you away almost to the clouds
She leaves you
The blackberries protect and surround you until a man finds you
You make him happy

You grow up
Dislike the king
Kill him
Fall in love

You make love to your wife and find out she's your mother
In disgust you walk to the cliff
Take a needle and stab your eyes; damn.

Another poem from my collection...

HE
He’s all around us, dark and hidden.
He reaps the end of those unfortunates.
He rests in the dark abyss
He reaches with his bony hands peeking from his sleeves
He grasps his sharp scythe as a Sheppard would his staff.
He glides inches from the ground, millimeters from our souls
He is cold and unwanted; the sun sets in my body
He has overstayed his welcome, but have I?
He decides whether to severe my thread of life
He decides when it is my time; will I accept it?
He spreads his frigid poison, when he chooses me, ready or not.

-Omar Artola

Things That Keep Me Sane...

I write...it's what I do. Sometimes full stories, sometimes short poems, sometimes an inspirational quote or two...but I need to write. This is a sample of some of the things that I write:

 Will It Happen

We had been friends for less than a week
She had silky tan skin
Eyes that stare with a captivating glow
A touch as soft as satin sheets
To see a beauty, to kiss warm lips, to hold a soft body, to feel what she feels, all at the same time is majestic
I don’t want to fall for her
She still has my jacket like a high school fling
It’s starting to get cold; I wish I could get it back
We joke about being as cute as little puppies
She’s a deliciously delicate dancer
I didn’t plan to feel this way, in fact I planned against this very thing, and I don’t think I can do it again
She leaves the smell of lilies wherever she goes, and walks around making the color purple look that much better
Those eyes that petrify me, stops me in my tracks, like a deer in headlights
Can I really be capable of falling for someone, I can’t, not again
This is the girl I think of, she’s the girl I want but I wonder…will it happen?

Something New...

I've never written a blog before...mainly because I'm too lazy but another reason is most of my work is precious to me. Most of it reveals things hidden beneath the party boy exterior, the good son, the loyal brother, the funny friend, and the "responsible" young adult. I've carried with me feelings...deep dark feelings that my true self has been able to restrain. More and more I feel him bubbling to the top like a volcano pushing that last plate apart and erupt. I keep him in like a wrangler keeps in a wild bull.

Recently I've realized that he's been there for years, but nothing has really set it off until these last couple months. Losing friends, losing family, realizing your family has been lost, crashing your car, more people dying...it's not fun and for the first time...i felt like something really...hurt me. In these last 4 months I've cried more than I can remember. I never cry...but idk...something is happening to me. I'm changing...

When I told someone this, they asked me, "Did you change for the better?" I said, without hesitation, "No." The dreams that have come back into my life scare me...the pain that I feel subconsciously, scares me...the only thing that helps is connection. It makes me happy to make others happy...because alone...i think about what's going on in my life. I saw a TV show recently, Dexter, which put what I feel very poetically, a Dark Passenger (although if you watch the show...mine isn't the same AT ALL). Basically there's something cooking inside me and he has to stay contained.

Those of you that know me, know that I love super heroes. They bring a sense of peace, hope, and truth to my life. I try and hold certain parts of my life to those standards...and I am proud of it. Many of you also know that Batman is my favorite character without a doubt. I won't go into why but there is something that I just thought about...Batman started off his "heroics" as Bruce Wayne and an alter-ego of "The Batman"...but as his life progressed...that changed; he became his alter-ego. He was no longer pretending to be "Batman" but now he forgot how to be Bruce Wayne. How the fuck do you forget to be yourself? That thought scares me to know end. I don't know why I'm changing or how far the change will go, but it's new to me and I don't like it. Hell of a first post huh?