BioWriMo Year Eight: Playing and Imagining

I turned seven at the end of 1997.

I remember this birthday somewhat clearly and it’s the first one I can remember. For some reason it was at McDonald’s because I was a stupid kid and stupid kids like cheap fast food. There was a big plastic throne where they sat the kid and it had a number wheel thing that could be adjusted to show their age.

My brother kept turning the number back to six and I would cry and turn it back because he’s a big troll and he kept telling me that whatever the throne said became true and I was a very cry-y kid.

I don’t know why, but I always thought of this as a turning point of a year in my life. Yes, I was awkward and naïve. But I also had some friends, my cousins and neighbors and some church people. Really, the year was probably no different than the previous, but for some reason I always think of things happening when I was “like seven”.

In 1998 Pokémon became a thing and my brother and I got into it via some of the kids on the other side of the wash. We got a few cards and pretended to know how to play. I mean eventually we got substantial amounts of the cards with our allowances and actually learned to play, but for a while we just did what we could with what we had.

We also played with Legos and Star Wars toys a lot. Aaron and I played together a lot, yes, but a lot of the time I liked to play alone with my toys. Like I’d give them personalities and have them interact. Beast Wars figures would play with Beanie Babies and I’d build whole communities that were poorly imagined, but imagined nonetheless. There was a big timeline on the wall (because homeschool) and I'd put them in at various points. I guess this could be called the real start of my creativity. Maybe that’s why it was an important year to me.

Aaron got Pokémon Red and I was jealous and a tag-along kid and so I remember the rest of that story but it happened when I was eight so you guys will have to wait for that.

BioWriMo Year Seven: the Neighborhood

Then I turned six. Around this time I moved to a different neighborhood. We lived on Beaumont Avenue. It’s the first house I can remember more than one room of.

Two stories, loft beds (those were SO COOL), in a real neighborhood with real neighbor kids but also near some undeveloped desert ripe for exploration. There was a neighborhood pool, fake trees in the front and as far as I knew, nice neighbors. I guess we were pretty financially stable at the time but it’s not like I had any knowledge of how things were. ’96 and ’97 were good Clinton economic years so maybe that has to do with it.

I remember us being connected to another neighborhood via a “wash”. Basically, Arizona is in the middle of the Sonoran Desert, meaning that when it does rain it rains a LOT. Our street was covered in flat pavement, flat roofs (it’s a Southwestern thing) and generally not absorbent stuff. The wash was a grated alley that let water (and small children) through but stopped cars from easily navigating between neighborhoods.

My brother had some friends on the other side of the wash and I, being a little brother, had to come along. There was a guy whose name was Leo or Lawrence or something and another guy whose name started with a D or S or something. Bad memory, eh? I remember the latter kid was Mormon. For those of you who aren’t from the United States, specifically the Mid- and Southwest, Mormonism is a sect of Christianity that is just different enough for us to consider separate. So it was odd now, knowing someone who didn’t believe or at least follow along with the same religion as us. It showed a bit, I think, that we were sheltered. We had grown up with an NES and a Sega Genesis and L--- had an Nintendo 64. We (or at least I if not Aaron) had never heard of or taken part in anything relating to politics and I very specifically remember hearing a joke about the Lewinsky scandal, although that must have been later, I guess.

I also remember playing with my cousins out in the desert. It wasn’t a far walk to one of their houses and we’d often go there and to Walgreens to play and hang out. So that was cool.

Years are hard and I have a lot to do today, so that’s all until I turn seven.

BioWriMo Year Six: Homeschool

I turned five in 1995. I was probably still in therapy around this time. I was probably still getting the finer points of reading at this time. Like I’ve stated, my memory is foggy.

I suppose that I officially started being homeschooled at this time, but with my brother in my house and all I had practically started already much earlier. So our mom would teach us out of books, drill us with sheets of math problems and (probably not for a few years after this) use software to teach us.

There were a lot of benefits to homeschooling. If Mom was sick or busy we would basically not do the school thing. We had school in the summer but there were field days scattered throughout when we vacationed or went to museums and stuff. Daily school wasn’t bad when we could finish by early in the day by finishing our allotted work.

I remember thinking I could draw. By which I mean I did bad stick figures. It was awful and nothing compared to Aaron’s burgeoning skill. I got way better eventually, trust me.

I remember thinking I could write. The only thing that sticks in my head from this age is some godawful stream-of-consciousness deal about a parrot. I hope I have improved since.

Something I haven’t touched on was religion. My family has always been very religious. I’m pretty sure we went to the same church the whole time we lived in Tucson. It was a Baptist church in a tent. They eventually built a real building there and I remember playing in the rocks around it. The church owned a lot of property around there and I’d often (usually with my brother) go back into the area around and explore. I’ve always loved walking in nature. I remember once getting a piece of jumping cactus stuck in my sandal and it sucked so bad and hurt forfreakingEVER.

Yeah, sandals. See, I didn’t actually learn to tie my shoes for a LONG time. I always had shoes with velcro or sandals because I think I was taught to tie shoes and then forgot and I never wanted anyone to know that. A lot of things in my development were like that but this is the best example for this age.

Anyway I think anything else I could talk about right now happened when I was six, which is a story for another day.

BioWriMo Year Five: Therapy

I turned four in 1994. At this age, I finally slept through the night! But not yet. We’ll get to that.

By now my parents realized that I had some problems with regular activities. Sleeping was obvious but there were also weird things with my speech patterns and interactions with people. I was very sensitive, crying at the drop of a hat and generally acting unlike someone my age. In some ways I was very mature, now able to read independently, but I was incredibly bad socially and sensitively.

So I started therapy. I don’t remember how long I was there or what exactly I did or the name of the therapist. I didn’t even know why I was there and I didn’t find out for years, so I’ll keep it thematic and not tell you people yet. All I know is that there were a lot of really cool toys and it was fun.

Anyway, I learned to block things out, so I got a lot less sensitive to things, if only selectively. I started sleeping through the night, even if I kept odd patterns like going to bed and waking up extremely early for no real reason.

I remember competing with my brother a lot around this age even though I couldn’t compare to a six-year-old. We’re both quite artistic and by this time we both drew and doodled a lot. I’m sure I’ll get into that more once I’m actually at schooling age.

Anyway, therapy was basically the highlight of my fifth year on the planet and I barely remember it, so I guess that’s all for today.

BioWriMo Year Four: Learning

I turned three in 1993. It was a year when I really started to develop differently from most kids.

When my brother was of schooling age my mom decided to homeschool. There a lot of views on homeschooling but in this case, with us both being young and kind of weird, it was a good thing. Aaron is of course very stoic, he likes to question everything he’s told and he learns kinesthetically, some traits that do not gel well in public schools. Mom could handle it. I wouldn’t have done well in public school either as a kid but I’ll get to that later.

The important thing is that my mom would teach Aaron and even though I was a toddler who could barely make himself understood I sat in. My mom read to us, Little House on the Prairie and Where the Red Fern Grows and some Bible stories. Then she taught Aaron to read. It was a slow process and she had to use some alternate teaching methods but he learned it and so did I.

I learned to read by sitting in on those lessons. At the age of three. Probably some crossover into the next year of my life but still. Eventually I could read better than my brother by the time I started being taught to write. I feel like this is one of the biggest accomplishments of my life and one of the reasons I’m the person I am today.

By the time I turned four I could read but I couldn’t talk very clearly. I played by myself a lot even though I had a brother relatively close to my age. But I still never slept through the night.

BioWriMo Year Three: Still Not Very Good at Being a Person

I turned two in 1992 and let me tell you, it was probably not very exciting. I literally remember nothing. That’s good because I am busy today and I should be writing my novel instead of this.

I started to speak but the only people who could understand me were members of my own family. How can I put this? I was mumbly. My maternal grandfather mumbles, my brother mumbles, sometimes my mom mumbles so of course I mumbled. I also had weird speech idiosyncrasies. I’d hop from one subject to another without warning and generally leave people confused. Logic was hard. I thought that if I got a reward for something once I’d get it every time. I might be mixing years here. Like I said, I was very small at the time.

I still didn’t sleep through the night. Of course.

BioWriMo Year Two: Still A Baby

I turned one in 1991. That year was pretty much the same as the previous, in my memory. That is to say that I don’t remember anything more from my second year alive than from my first.

Okay, maybe not. The earliest memory I can conjure up is me, crawling in some house that we lived in but I don’t remember, trying to chase the cat. I guess that was probably around when I was one.

We had a cat, by the way. His name was Hadji because my dad liked Johnny Quest as a kid. Hadji was an incredibly intelligent cat. Hadji was an outside cat year round because Arizona is almost never cold. There were coyotes and cacti and all sorts of dangerous stuff in the environment but Hadji never got hurt. There’s a story my father likes to tell where Hadji started getting fat out of the blue. It turns out that he’d been sneaking to a neighbor’s house where the old woman was feeding this “poor pregnant stray”.

Cats are weird.

Anyway, when I was one I suppose my parents started noticing how different I was from my brother. Aaron is and always has been incredibly stoic. He didn’t always behave but when he was bad he never gave it away. Aaron is a cool kid and an important character in my life up to now, so I guess you’ll read more about him.

I was entirely different. Even as I was nearing two years old I still never slept through the night. I was even fussier and more sensitive than any baby you could imagine. I don’t know much about my speech patterns at that age but either way that’s a story for the next year.

It strikes me that, as a baby, years weren't a big deal. Birthdays were things I didn't understand because I was a baby. When I turned two at the end of this blog post period thing I didn't get that I was now twice as old as the last time we'd done this. It's kind of arbitrary, really.

Oh well. It's convenient for this BioWriMo thing.

BioWriMo: Year One

If you don't know what this is, watch this video.

----


My name is Jonathan Daniel Garcia. I was born on November 21, 1990 in a hospital in Tucson, Arizona to Fernando and Gina Garcia.
My brother Aaron was two. He couldn’t say my name correctly so he called me Jonfin or as my dad likes to say, Dolphin.
I was a baby so I don’t remember it. I was apparently very fussy. Even more than most babies. More on that later.
If I would have been a girl my name would have been Mikayla or some spelling thereof after a friend of my mother’s. As it is I was just given biblical names.
Much of my first year was spent eating, pooping and learning basic motor skills. Less time was spent sleeping than my parents would have liked. More on that later.
That’s all I really know. I was a baby. Sue me.

On Being a Male Feminist: What Feminism Means for Men

I am a male feminist.

I know it can be stupid to complain that one is part of what is considered normal or on top of society, but the fact is that gender roles hurt every part of society. I like to describe it as women being bound in a sphere and men being stuck on a pedestal. Leaving our roles, even a little bit, will end up with us being derided and even hated.

I feel like I am in a prison of privilege. Like I constantly have to hold up this ideal of a strong, emotionless man. I can’t cry. I can’t not know what to do. And of course, I can’t complain that I’m stuck in this role I never chose because my role happens to be considered better by society than any alternative.

I have had a somewhat strained relationship with my father at times. In part this is because of our differing political views, but much of that stems from his expectations of gender. I self-identify as a mostly straight cisgender male, but I acknowledge that most of my actual personality is more feminine than masculine.

But back to my dad. He often gripes that men in today’s society have to be touchy and sensitive bleeding hearts and that there’s no place for the “man’s man” who is overly tough and a strong and competent leader who lets no emotion impede his progress. When I hear that kind of talk, a little part of me breaks inside. Because every time I am told I must be some independent übermensch because I happened to be born with a dick.

So yes, I’m a feminist because life sucks for women and the lgbt community. I’m a feminist because aspects of my race and body image let me see what it’s like to feel marginalized and othered. I'm a feminist because I enjoy studying sociology and seeing how much we are effected by things outside of our control. I’m a feminist because I believe in equality and fairness.

But I think it’s important to note that feminism has something to offer men. We need feminism because the abolition of gender roles would free men to take whatever path we choose just as it would with women or any other gender.

Cactus Hug

You know what the saddest part of this is?

The kind of cacti you see on television are actually extremely rare. Saguaro cacti only grow in the Sonoran Desert which is mostly located in Arizona. Most of the time the arms develop at somewhat random angles, but for about half of the life of the cactus, it has no arms at all. It takes up to 75 years before a Saguaro even starts to grow an arm.

This cactus has been waiting for a hug longer than you have been alive and probably longer than you will live. And that's terrible.

(Also sorry about the lack of bloggings. Many topics are just better/easier in video form.)

I Need a Job

Alright then.
I don't have a job. This is a problem. I'll be paying rent next school year. Real rent, honest, $350-per-month, Broadway pay-or-you're-homeless rent. Even if I were to manage a job during the school year, there is no way I'd be paid enough or work enough hours to keep up a cash flow that justifies my lack of job.
I need a job.
It's not like I don't want a job. I desperately want and need a job because otherwise I do not know what I will do. I just haven't gotten a job and it's incredibly difficult to get a job when nobody is hiring and giving jobs.
One month of summer has passed and there are three to go. June has started, junebugs are singing, May has died and gone. Our time is running out.
I have a few options for income. If my channel ever gets partnered, that will bring in a few dollars, but nothing even comparing to a real job and definitely not enough to make ends meet. I could try selling t-shirts or something, but I doubt I have enough of a "market" to make it worth the effort. It's not like I have thousands of adoring fans and people screaming "I would like to buy something with something you said or did on it, my good sir."
The last option is to move to a big city, become homeless and play my ukulele on the street for change. The sad part is that this is the smartest option. I really hope it doesn't come to that. Does anyone know of good money-making opportunities online or in the Michiana area?
Until then, I guess I'd better devote myself to the job hunt. And writing. Nothing like being a poor writer.
Ooh! Also, here are some things I drew today because why not?

Writing

If I've said it once I've said it several times. I need to write more. I am writing more, but that's beside the point. Today I thought I'd talk about what exactly I'm talking about when I say "writing". Basically, I have six different writing projects over the summer.

The first should be obvious. You're looking at it. See this? This is a blog post. I wrote it. Well, I'm writing it, but from your perspective I wrote it. Blogging is probably the easiest writing to keep up because if I didn't then those who read this would get cross with me. I've got a twofold motivation for blogging that's the same as my reason for making videos obligatory plug. I like to do it and apparently other people like to see it. That's important. Nobody wants to do something when there isn't a clear indication of its worth.

My next project is also my newest. It's my first serious attempt at writing professionally. See, Ryan North, the linguistic genius behind the webcomic Dinosaur Comics, is asking once again for submissions for the next Machine of Death book. I will be writing a short story for this. People, make sure I do this.

The next part is somewhat secret but it involves collaborative script-writing and I need to get that whole deal started as well. Keep an eye out on the YouTubes.

The fourth project is also somewhat secretive. I'm basically novelizing a friend's unwritten memoirs. I expect this to take some time. Also that friend needs to bring it up more often and ze knows who ze is.

Penultimately, as I've mentioned a bit on Twitter, I'm going to participate in JulNoWriMo this year. The only timed writing project I've ever done was the 24 Hour Comic and I've never written a full novel, so this should be challenging. I'm hoping I win. Seeing as I already have a vague premise (superpowered private school adventure romance) and quite a few ideas, I'm hoping this goes well.

The last writing project is not a project per say. I want to continue any writing "for fun" stuff I already have and any vague ideas that pop in my head- Songwriting, Flashes (more on that later) and anything else that strikes my fancy.

So what about you, Minutaur Bloggy People Read Havers? What kind of crazy business are you getting into this summer?

Transitions, Paper Towns and the Meaning of Life

Blog posts, eh? Those are always nice, I suppose. I should probably write some more of those.

My life is, as it seems to always be, in a state of transition. There are many projects on the horizon: Internet Prom this Saturday, JulNoWriMo (more on that later) and secret series #MB, to name a few. In addition, everything I am personally involved in right now- volunteering at my old high school to get hours for the College of Ed; going through the application and interview process for jobs; even trying to become a YouTube Partner (here's the obligatory plug) is just another step toward the future.

It's like the excellent John Green novel, Paper Towns. If you haven't read it, I won't spoil it, but it's an excellent book and I highly recommend it for anyone. There's a link to get it at the bottom of the post but whatever you do makes no difference to me and I digress. One of the themes of the book is that everything is just preparation for the future. Even when no ideal end is in sight, no point where we think we've the perfect life, we live to survive so that, in the end, we can say our lives had any meaning in the first place.

It makes me think about what I said in this video. Life doesn't really have a singular purpose. That's why the question of the meaning of life often has vague answers like "other people" or "love" or some appeal to theology. Looking at the grand perspective, the majority of our lives will be about "nothing" in the figurative sense. I'm not trying to preach nihilism here. Just because life doesn't have a specific point does not mean life is pointless, worthless or otherwise not worth living. It's just that, like a lot of things, life is not simple enough to be summed up in easy terms.

To kind of try and bring the whole post into a tidy summary, I'd like to use that overused Lennon quote-"Life is what happens when you are busy making other plans." So these transitional periods are much more real than some imagined future. After all, as is said in another John Green book, to imagine the future is a type of nostalgia. It's not life. You're not waiting to "get a life" because you've already got one and this is it.

I'm not sure what my point is. Maybe it's that preparation is essentially no different than execution. Maybe I just wanted to get all existential today. Either way, I hope it made some sense.

Take Two

This has been an unexpected ordeal.
Through a series of unfortunate events involving glitchy Blogger servers and a squatting troll, I have had to get an entirely new blog. This one, in case you didn't notice, in which case I'm sure you'll catch on to the whole blogging thing eventually. Don't worry about it.
My first blog post was deleted and my old blog was replaced with mean-spirited, almost nonsensical douchebaggery. Here are some of the things you may have missed from my lost post:

• My name is Jon Garcia. Hi. Let's be friends.
• My main Internetular outlet is The Minute Vlog on YouTube, from which you can find my other online interactions I'm sure.
• I'm a vegetarian. No, I won't rub it in your face. No, I don't count calling meat "dead things" as rubbing it in your face.
• I'm a feminist. Yes, I am a male, as my name seems to indicate, but feminism is about more than just cis women. More on that later.
• More and more I'm becoming an activist. Anti-racism, anti-ableist, progressive government and all-around kyriarchy-is-bad, that's me.
• I have the invisible disabilities of Major Depression, Sensory Integration Disorder and high functioning autism. More on that later too, probably. Feel free to ask about it.
• I'm a college student. English major and history minor, both for education and yes I realize the irony of this fragmented explanatory sentence.

Hello again. Nice bullets, eh? In light of recent events, I should also point out that despite the nationalities of some of my ancestors, despite my ethnicity and what I call my grandparents and my last name, I do not speak Spanish. English, obviously. A little French even. But no Spanish.
Now that that's through I think I'm done for now. Oy vei.