My blogging was initiated as a tool to let my daughters understand who their father was, and I find it might be more of who'd I like to believe I am. I tried to be as genuine as I could be. Genuine doesn't always get received. Some folks want honesty but only convenient honesty, fitting honesty, not brutal honesty. I say fuck it, soldiers died, are dying, and will die so that I can express myself, among other dignified rights. When I write I feel arrogant at times, embarrassed others, and mostly human and alive. I am experiencing the same existential dilemma that all mankind and possibly all living beings have trusted, who am I, what am I here to do, how will I be remembered, and where do I belong. I patiently contribute and paradoxically watch my identity being built and altered through my writing.
There will be consequences and misinterpretations because of my expressions, but I owe it to myself to be genuine. As I continue to capture my identity, perceptions, and delusions in my blogging, primarily for my daughters, I have to accept that patience is pouring its lessons on me. I cannot keep up with all the things patience is trying to teach me. I realize each day that being a good man is only as valid as the people I surround myself with perceive me to be. The messages and signals I send do not always share the same meaning to those reading, listening, or observing. I see how my audience plays a significant role in how I am perceived. I am beginning to understand patiently how their experiences, mostly unknown to me, taints, paints, fills in, manipulates, twists, biases, discolors, facilitates, clarifies, stimulates, and enhances my message being sent. Despite the feedback I receive from being me, I feel courageous enough to share myself genuinely.
Now there is a companion quality, that I have ignored, it's graceful, polished, and sexy, I call it class. The sooner I can get a grip on patience the better I can get busy being classy. I think my prayer for the coming year is to share in the fruitfulness of class.
A humble and yet inattentive student of patience,
Ron
Through Him, with Him, and in Him!
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There is a part of the Chicano culture that is ruthless. Even the slightest social struggle creates opportunity for deviance. My family wa... -
Part 2 The darker aspects of my culture are simply expressions of communal pain. Without diving into excuses or reasons for class structure... -
Part 3 Where did the ability to self abuse originate? If I take a critical look at the people in my barrios that perpetrated on the home...