The Perks of Being a Cuban.

My hair is far too short. It used to be long, on my face, unruly, and perfect. Now, its short; it makes my head look so long. I look teribble, and it's all because of Danny, the hair guy. He was, I think, too busy singing the disco music on the radio to listen to what i had told him. "I DO NOT WANT IT SHORT!!!! It must still be long, just clean it up on the sides and the front to make me presentable enough so the family will stp telling me how much they hate it." I am sick and tired of listening to old know-nothing family members tell me how "ugly" I looked. But now they have their wish, and I'm stuck with a hair cut fit for any castmember on "The L Word".

It happened again today. I should start wearing a sign. I should carry around a book of white Hispanic people, maybe then, the steryotype of the dark-skinned greasy haired Latino will be broken. It pisses me off.

Its sort of hard to top myself after such a perfectly written post HAHA. I just feel like blogging today, with nothing significant to say. It's just nice to sit and just write.
Well, Spring Break has finally arrived. For those reader (yes reader) who think I'm gonna "party it up MTV style in sunny Mexico" I'm not.... surprising I know. I'm physically drained, mentally, just blah. This break will be spent relaxing, and trying to wake up in time to catch Ellen, or at least catch I Love Lucy. I love that show haha, I think it's a sort of way to keep a part of my childhood innocence, as I vivdly remember rolling on my grandmother's linoleum floor at the age of 4, in hysterics over Lucy's latest shenanigan. It was also one of my first exposures to the beauty of the Cuban culture, through Ricky's music, thick accent, and severely Cuban sayings muttered under his breath. Many of the things he mumbled were forbidden in English on TV back then... some of them are still barely allowed today. It's so funny how the censors never really took notice of what he was saying.
It's really hard to write well listening to my Launchcast ... In the time it was taken me to write this, it has playd Jlo's Get Right, and I had to stop writiting, because as much as I love that song hahaha, (Guilty Pleasure, ahhh JLO!!!) theres no way an intelligent thought could come through while listening to such a mind numbingly stupidly written song. Now, Rainbow-brite , as you can see, he is the most hideous creature to walk this crazy planet we call Earth, is IMing me. Making it all the more difficulyt to write intelligently, as I have used all of my brain power figuring out a wa yto get him to stop talking to me. "Yeah I'm downloading music Dan... SHH!!!" Or the very fun "Why are you still talking, STOP LOVING ANDY you crazy crazy fool!" I think Im gonna buy dan that book "He's Just Not That Into You!!!!" Dan when you read this..... don't yell at me, or I'll block you.... You wouldn't want that now would you?

Today, I walked downstairs, in my ripped jeans and my snarky urban outfitters Tee and my dad tried to describe or label my "look".... t'was weird, he's a nerd. He began to associate my clothes with my personality... Do people on the street do this? I know I have, just to pass the time. If I have enough time in Hoboken and don't have to run from the train to the bus, I make the short walk, or run, into a 5-6 minute stroll. Analyzing the busy, rushing, older people eager to get home and crawl into bed, not before complaining to their families about the uselessness of their jobs over a hot cardboard box of chicken chow mein. I have no idea who they are, what their names are, or whether or not their lives are screwed up... junkies, prostitutes by night... whatever. But I've noticed that often, people stare at me as well, usually when I'm minding my own business rolling my eyes at the parked bus while the passengers freeze their nipples off. Could they be analyzing me the same way I've done to others. Could they be pinpointing me perfectly, or just giving me a title based on their perception of long haired teenagers. My dad called me a beatnik, and a hipster. No clue what either of those mean. He also said, that to be a beatnik, I must grow a beard.

I looked up beatnik: a person who rejects the mores of established society (as by dressing and behaving unconventionally) and indulges in exotic philosophizing and self-expression Hmm!!! Its not a bad term at all, it's artsy, it's original. But wouldn't the constant search for noncomformacy just result in being labeled a beatnik anyway? In the efforts of being original and not being pigeonholed by society, society has created a new word to label the once unlabelable. This term was created in 1958, no clue about the historical importance of the year, but I'm sure it's significant to someone who knows their modern social history. I of course also looked up hipster: a person who is unusually aware of and interested in new and unconventional patterns (as in jazz or the use of stimulants). Stimulants... drugs? Awesome, my poppa thinks I'm a junkie? He obviously doesn't know the meaning of the word hipster. He's a smart person...... Is there a fancy term for a bitterly, bitingly, sarcastic boy who wears earthtones and listen to just about any type of music? EXCEPT hiphop:)
Both of these definitions have one thing in common, they both describe people in search of unconventionality. Noncomformacy is hard to come by these days, as nearly everyone has conformed to the mundanity of society somehow. Maybe through the millions of Ipods seen in one day, or even in the thousands of people who race home from work every night to catch their favorite guilty pleasures on FOX, ABC, or any other channel offering a night of cheezy reality tv or sinfully good Dramedy. No one is unconventional, no matter how unique they may perceive themselves to be.

Itseems as though whenever I get to that one point of sheer bliss, there's always that person, or that event that brings me back to reality. Just when I think life couldn't get any better, I'm right, and theres the thing that makes me realize over and over again that my life does in fact, suck major ass :D

God BLESS!!!
Robert

Why can't I just sit down once in a while and just READ. I buy books that interest me, interest me very much. These books have gotten great reviews, and their first chapters are incredible. When people ask me what I'm reading, I tell them all 3 titles, it may sound impressive, but the truth is I'm on Chapter 2 in all 3 of them. Chapter 1s were GOOD, maybe I'll do the rest during Easter Break.... HA right

I've decided to put these 3 aside, interesting as they may be, and to start Catcher in the Rye again. It's my favorite book, and is one of the few books I read entirely for school, the others are The Perks of Being a Wallflower, the Good People of New York, Gatsby, and the Crucible. Catcher is amazingly written, funny, emotional, and has had a lasting impression on me. I won't give away the end, although the one person that reads me consistently has read it aswell, but the end of this book was as perfect asthe rest. This is usually not the case with the books I read.... Good People of NY had a teribble ending even though the rest of it was wonderful. Perks, also has a great ending, it reminds me a lot of Catcher. Perks is very often reffered to as a modernized, more extreme (obviously authors get away with much more now than when Catcher was written) version of Catcher. I cant wait to read it again, and will definately enjoy every moment. Ahh the pimp chapter!

JUG, short for Justice Under God is my school's fancy way of saying... detention! It is a useless period of 40 minutes where you sit up straight ( or as straight as possible) in quiet. While some students may see it as a teribble inconvenience, I find it to be a great way to start my day. I recieved 5 JUGs for forgetting to bring back a form. And in JUG, I have started to write a book in my head. The problem is, i keep forgetting everything I write about in my head and start over every day. I believe one title of one of my short stories in my head was "Pale Waspy English Teacher with the Bright Scarves!" I wish I knew how that one went, as I remember it was quite hot, and illegal in most countries. The original preface was about my wanting to write a book since I was 7, wanting to be the youngest author ever to be published. I'm sure however, that somewhere there is already a 7 yr-old published author. Not because he or she were a gifted child, a prodigy... but I'm sure the book sold well based on the cute-factor and the oh so easy marketing strategy. By the age of 12 the book I wanted to write had a basic plotline, a woman goes to ride the subway, she meets a Hobo... fall sin love with him... he dies of an STD and she spends the rest of her life living on the subway where he used to live. It makes a good SNL skit and was not going to be a serious love story by any means, but I think it would be too uninteresting to write about. Now, I am rather plotless, There is of course a love triangle between a student and 2 very different teachers however, both of which teach Spanish.

Wow, I was on Emmaus. There has been so much buildup to the weekend, and now that it's over I can't help but think, "Is there ANYTHING left in my Prep career to look forward to?" I mean... Emmaus... It's Emmaus. That's a huge deal in most Prep student's lives. I kind of took it for granted when I got there. I don't like to talk about myself on an emotional level. And apparently lots of people on Emmaus do... And I thought that was incredible. I honestly didn't think there was anything worth sharing on my part.... My life isn't that bad to need to vent so openly about it. I think at home, while my relationship with my family could be stronger, it's not that bad. The weekend as a whole was tremendous, moving, powerful, and surprisingly, not that centered on faith. Which gave us all a chance to get closer on a personal level and not on one based on religion, which can sometimes be a fake, sugarcoated kind of connection. Often you hear in Church, "brothers and sisters..." And you take it as kind of an obligatory, "Jesus said we're brothers, so it must be true." But this weekend, we formed bonds, and brotherhoods, essentially, that honestly cannot be taught through religion. My small group consisted of some of the most interesting, amazing, and inspirational people that I will ever have the privilege of knowing. The conversations we've had as a small group or as individuals during downtime hiking up to "Mount Emmaus" or at dinner etc were some of the most meaningful and awesome conversations I'll ever had. I entered Emmaus reluctantly, scared, and very unsure as to whether or not it was a good idea to go. The members of my small group alone proved it to be one of the best decisions I've ever made.

Several times throughout the course of one week, I sit in front of my television, and mindlessly watch the addictive Fox programming. Twice a week, American Idol owns me, as well as the rest of the house. We all watch and sadly make picks as to who our favorites are. As of right now, I don't like anyone, and I'm usually good at picking. Picked Fantasia from the moment she auditioned originally with "Proud Mary." The O.C. is my latest Fox obsession. It fits every single "good tv" cliche very nicely into on hour each week. You've got your Ross/Rachel type romance. Your rebellious drunk lesbian. Your big eyebrowed almost-gonna-cheat-on-his-wife-with-the-exgirlfriend-he-thought-was-dead lawyer. And you've got the bad seed from the bad town. It's a great show, and I always feel both exhilarated and embarrassed every Thursday once it's over
The only reason I'm writing all of this is to avoid a VERY boring religion assignment. What does it mean to be Catholic? What kind of Catholic? The ME kind? That's the kind that doesn't go to church, doesn't share his religious side, prays once in a while, but his religion doesn't consume him. Or do you mean to God Squad type Catholics? The type the sing songs about Jesus on long car rides? The kind that when you ask "how are you" they say "I'm blessed, and how are you fellow brother in Christ"? That type? This is a very vague question and could be responded to very sarcastically or very introspectively.

I don't want to go back to school. I haven't been there much, and it's not like I'm doing phenomenally well in any of my classes. There are only a few things worth going to school over, Chemistry is not one of them. Ugh that damn class just scares me to death. I just dont GET it, and I dont think I ever will. I wish I knw how to study :(

Well, it's 18 degrees outside, about 30something in the house. I have pieces of ice.... growing in places. I bought a new blanket, it's a weird materials that feels even softer than cashmere. Of course my sense of touch is compromised as I cannot feel my fingertips. My room is one of if not the warmest room in the house, because I've had my door closed since yesterday. My dad told me today that the new unit won't be available until March 1. At that point, I yelled at him enough to convince him to yell at the Heat dude as severely as I had just yelled at my dad. We went to houlihans and target to escape the bitter cold of our house. I'm wearing my cashmere sweater along with a bunch of other tshirts just to keep warm. I'm getting even more pale, is that possible, yet my nose is red, I look adorable :-P We're going on a search tomorrow around the house. It's so cold in here that everyone in the house is now on the lookout for one of my nipples, as it has fallen off due to the freezingness :)

I'm going to crawl under my tshirt sheets, comforter, and maybemightaswellbecashmere blanket and try to keep warm. Wish me luck!

Well, it's official. My life sucks! :) Our heater has broken, and my bedroom is about 40something degrees. My sister has bronchitis, and strep throat, and this sudden rush of freezing in the house is not going to make her any better. The OC I snow on, that makes me feel better, I will envy them even more than I usually do though, as I am sure their huge house with the pool and stuff is a at a comfortable temperature. I think I just saw my own breath, isn't that special? Hopefully, ideally really, it will be fixed tomorrow. Doubtful, I think. How often do one of those technicians has an entire heating system ready to replace the broken one in the back of their huge truck WHICH could in fact hold the heating unit, but no that would be convenient, then the ingenious heat dude would not be able to charge for multiple visits, along with the installation fee and of course all the other fees he may encounter along the way... I'm so excited to see how much this will cost my parents... I can assure that I will never go on vacation again... Thanks heating unit, you suck.

There's something strangely peaceful about the sound of rain against my window. I don't like to be in the rain itself because it is uncomfortable, but looking at it, and hearing it against my window at night is very soothing. The sound also helps me go to sleep... that's weird I know, but I'm really not the most normal of people anyway

Today was a very interesting day. It was a regular, plain day in school. Nothing special happened. I finally was able to do my English presentation and that huge weight has been lifted, since I did fear that all of my observations of the poem were wrong. My Spanish teacher is one of a kind, I think. I hope. If there's more than one of her, the world is sure to implode. On Monday, she was looking through an exercise book. Not really exercises, more like different ways to stretch your body on/around a huge bouncy ball. Not for nothing, but I am willing to sell my soul in order to see her attempt these exercises, as I'm sure I will pee myself should the opportunity arise. Today, she was just as insane, and yelled a lot more.... fun. After that I went to my English teacher to see what homework I was missing since I was out of school for 4 days. :) And after speaking to her for 15/20 mins :) I went home and that is where this blog begins.
I will refer to whoever reads this as "dear readers" as that is what i saw someone else on blogspot do once and found it both hilarious and sarcastic. Both qualities I am told I posses.

I wasn't sure exactly why I decided to start this blog. I guess it was the sort of secret longing for originality? ha ha! I wasn't sure what to call this blog either. I was thinking "Robert is Dreaming of English Teachers." Too obvious a parody, yes?

I'm very exaughsted and conflicted. Conflicted because while these sick days were not enjoyable they were relaxing as I felt like doing nothing more but sleep, and collapsed into bed several times throughout the course of each day. I also, however, want to go back to school, not because i miss it, but because I need to. NEED TO. When I think of all the work I'm missing i get very nervous, feraring that I may never catch up. An image of me , asleep, at my desk, my face burried in my chemistry book, while drool ruins page 211. I've kind of missed the people as well, aww! haha