One day I remember getting to play goalie.. for some reason there was knowone else and they let the little boy who hung around the hockey rink live his dream for an hour.. and I remember the way it felt when I didn't know where the puck was after a shot.. and the excitment of perhaps the puck was beneath me in the layer of pads..see I loved playing goalie.. all I ever wanted to be was a goalie.. but we were poor and there were no kids leagues in Bella Coola a small logging town on the coast of BC... but at 10 after my parents decided to get a dicoure and after living in a chicken coop and seeing my dad kiss another woman and seeing my mom naked with another man.... we moved to Edmonton and I was going to get that dream.. I was going to be a goalie... but somehow that dream got lost as the pads to be a goalie cost too much but I still could be a forward.. or a defense..children are more resiliant than you can imagine..
and there we were my dad and I in a hockey equipment store.. I was 10 or 11.. and as young boys are we are stubborn.. I wanted the bigger gloves.. my dad.. said I had to get the smaller ones.. we did not agree and we left the store and with that any chance I had of being a hockey player died.. I once read in my sisters diary that her dad killed her dreams.. upon that day the man who went to court to reduce his child support payments for $50 a month to $25 destroyed the greatest dream any boy growing up in Edmonton ever could have.. to be wayne gretzky....All I wanted to do as a child was play hockey... dads are suppose to make their kids dreams come true.. but to my dad I was worth $25 a month.. people wonder why I have no self esteem.. why I still cry myself to sleep at 32 years old.. why I just can never figure life out.. well how do you deal with the reality that you are worth so little...and perhaps if what happened next had not happened.. as I said children are resiliant creatures.. I was content to play with my little brother....in our basement appartment suite..
Every 4th saturday at 1 am WWF at the time would have this big wrestling show.. and we would stay up and watch it.. in fact we would stay up every saturday in hopes that the "saturday night live" meant wrestling and when it came on we wer Hulk Hogan and Andre the giant.. for children these were our heros larger than life...and sometimes we would even push all the furniture to the side.. and we would make goals and with a tennis ball and too small hockey sticks we were our hockey heros.. for a child there is never more joy than being able to let your imagination carry you like wings making this small little corner of the world a grand hockey rink with crowds roaing...
That was the last good memory I had as a child.. for a year or so later I was spendig the night at my best friends house.. jame james.. and we had made a fort out of blankets.. and he had his little brother there.. and he said to me that he wanted to get naked with me and rub our penises together.. I didn't want to.. but he told me it was normal.. and then he kissed his brother.. I wanted him to like me so I did....it happened twice.. no pentitration.. just 2 boys... one wanting the other to like him..
Its funny looking back.. how at 5 in an out house an older boy asked me to do the same thing.. at 7 in the back of a cab....with a different older friend.. and now at 13 teen... why at 13 did such an event effect me when before there is nothing.. no pain.. because at 13 I had become aware.. I knew of god.. and I think it was the fat that physcially it felt good that scared me the most even though at that age a tight pair of blue jeans feels good.. at that age yu are just realizing what a penis is... and maybe if my mother hadn't sunk in my head that homosexuality was wrrong.. that gay people were going to helll.. I would of been able to simply forget about it as I had done at 5 and 7... but such is not the world of religon.. where you are going to hell if you are gay.. and so from that moment on I lived in terror.. I prayed every cchance I ould for god to forgive me.. I would say over and over again I am not gay.. I am not gay.. I couldn't sleep because I would talk in my sleep.. I was terrified people would find out.. I could not get close to anyone..I could not have any guy friends.. I would just stand alone next to this cement wall and throw a ball back and forth.. it was my only joy in life for the rest of the time I lived in fear...
My sister.. my older sister who I do not talk to once was spying on me.. and I was afraid she heard me speak to god.. and I look back and maybe that is why we never speek.. because maybe she knew my greatest secret...
It is strange how that one event changed my life.. how I had no friends after that.. how I longed for friends.. about a year later I moved in with my mom.. there were all 4 kids.. and my mom in this little town house.. my borth and eye shared a room and my two sisters and my mom shared another.. my dad was more interested in finding a wife than being a father... we were poor.. someday we did not have food.. somedays I was beaten.. I don't blame my mother.. she cannot even admit to it.. I just wanted to not be so fucked up inside.. I made a friend at school... Mike was his name but he did not want to be my friend for long because maybe I walked funny.. maybe I wasn't cool.. I had no friends.. I remember collecting bottles and ordring SI.com so I could get Michael Jordan come fly with me.. and I remember calling up the proxy friends I had when I got the CD at lunch and asking if I could come over and watch it... I remember them saying no...I was the kid who just tried to find a group of people to hang around with so I would be alone in the play ground.. I was the guy nobody wanted around...
I remember the family firends getting a nintendo and all I wanted to do was come over and play Mike Tysons punch out.. with the family friends boys.. my age.. but they did not like me.. they liked my older sister and so every couple of days I would ask to spend the night and they would say no.. my heart was crushed..
At school winning a lunch with teacher was a nightmare because they always asked what does your mom do and we were poor.. we were on welfare.. and I had to lie..
That was my life.. but my mom even though at times she had beat me.. she had choked me, through her own madness at having her dreams stolen.. her heart broken with the help of my grand mother.. managed to afford the $1000 it took for me to play hockey one year.. and it was the best year of my life.. I got to go to NAIT in the summer and put on skates.. and learn to play hockey.. it was the most amazing time.. and then they had tryouts to see what level we belonged in. and me feelling joy for the first time in my life.. feelling free on that hockey rink tried harder than everyone else.. and likely got put into to high.. I was 15 and it was my first itme playing hockey.. I wasn't very good.. the first shift this big kid drove middle and scored on our goalie.. but I didn't care I was living the dream.. and the kids from my school who happened to be at the same rink as me would make fun of me.. they said I played the minimum amount of shifts a kid has to play.. meaning I was the worst player on my team.. but I did not care..
There was the blizzard of 88 where we had 2-3 feet of snow.. roads were snowed in.. school was cancelled and I made my mom shovel out the car..and drive to the rink... just on the off chance..to this day I still regret never having scored a goal.. If I could have one wish it would be to know that feeling to see the puck in the net...
I only got to play one year.. we were poor.. and the dream was to play hockey and have your dad spend time with you at the rink.. to play with you..
I could go on.. and someday I will tell you the tale how my childhood of pain decended into a life of darkness.. of broken relationships and pain.. how after too many one night stands I realized I was not gay... but I will stop here......because today I read the quiet words of a young lady.. a girl I told to follower her dreams..
She goes by vgirl.. she I am looking for an anime artist.. and she happened to say I draw anime in a facebook anime fanpage.. she shared her work with me.. and it did show promise but what I needed had to be done in photoshop.. I told her how she could take what others would have said is a hobby and make something of herself.. I told her of lynda.com which is a good place to learn how to use professional art software.. I told her of the different websites online like posterous which would allow her to article her journey.... but what I did not tell that young lady was of the cruelness of life.. how online just as in real life there are those who will rip your dreams, your most precious creativity from you.. who get a rush out of making you feel bad.. the trolls of the internet.. the scum.. the people that if I ever have my way will pay. the people who say whole heartly troll me not her.. because these were her words..
http://vgirl.posterous.com/whats-been-happening
"I recently put up a topic on a forum to sell my work. I instantly got
hated for it. "Why would people pay for that, couldn't they just copy
and paste it", "Your drawing is way out of proportion", "It makes me
want to throw up", "You're just another anime artist wannabe". It got
taken down but it still haunts me. It has gotten to me so much that I
can't sleep at night and the more I think about, the more I want to
overdose on medication or cut myself. "
I want to say big words like I will find those trolls who said such cruel things.... but what does that matter.. we are a cruel people.. we always seek to make those who seek to be more feel as if they cannot succeed.. and often in life we fail.. we fail over and over again... I do not know what to say to her.. I have cut myself.. I have taken 20 gravel and prayed I would not wake up.. I have longed for a gun...I am 32 years old living in my mothers basement suite.. a shatter man broken...
I have one friend in the whole world and even she barely believes in me beause the chasm inside me. the need to feel love is too great even for her.... my sister so not care for me.. my little brother who I might have saved from 10 years of meth lives in another provincce.. broken from a father.. a life.. a million variables....all he wanted to do was be an artist.. did my dad steal that from him..
And yet I still dream.. I dream of walking in malta with the girl I love who does not love me.. who is my friend and hearing her read me the bible.. even though it hurts me so much when the words of god are wrapped in her voice.. I hear them and feel as if there is hope for me... but my doubt creeps in because I am certain she will say I am not worth the hassle..
I have failed so much in my life.. I have failed as a son.. I have failed as a man..I have failed as a student...my mother mortgaged her house so I could build this application.. so I might find some sort of happines because I am stuck in a job I hate with a boss who thinks it is his duty to tell me I will fail at anything I try.. who without asking comes into my office and assumes I have failed at this webstuff...
Still even though I cannot find the courage to dream for me.. to really dram.. I can find the courage to dream for my friend roxanne.. so that she might find the strength to write.. to sing.. I have found the strength to love god for giving her such gifts.. such support.. I can find the strength to help my mom find her way back to write a childrens book...and this girl here..I will keep trying to help her find her way.. and anyone else who needs a dream I will give it to them.. anyone else who needs someone to believe in them.. they shall have me...
and then maybe.. when this life comes to an end there will be some purpose to me.. because when it comes to me.. I am just the boy looking at his life wondering why god made him....
Posted via email from Gebalove
