[Blog Entry] ¿What are you doing with my name..?

Ok so this is where it all begins… from nothing.

This is my grandfather Manuel on my mother side, who many people, even outside of family referred to him “Papa Manuelito”

I have always had this idea that I might be able to leave behind a few words of knowledge or wisdom for others. Help others learn from mistakes I had made, so that they may lead better lives. I have finally resigned myself to the fact that I probably won’t get around to writing the story of my life. When you combine that scenario with the fact that I am also unlikely to father any children any time soon, it seems logical (to me at least) that I could chronicle my life from the beginning in the hope that perhaps one person out there will read this and make better life decisions because of it.

I expect a lot of people will be incredibly upset by some of the things I will write. I should probably mention in advance that there are two sides in every story and this is just mine. As such what ever I am writing is likely to be affected by bias, prejudice, favoritism, predisposition, and finally whatever mood I am in at the time of writing.

My first memory is of my being, is being present at my grandfather’s funeral. It’s hard to explain because he died way before I was born, but I remember all the arrangements that were made, who made them, the flowers, everything. I remember his burial. I was with my family as my parents were going to the funeral and I looked out the window and saw Boston Store which was located at Valley West Mall. I remember the youthful faces of some of my cousins who babysat my older sister who was still small at the time. I just remember really not wanting to be there, everything was so chaotic. Looking back it may only have been the passing of a family member, but being present when I should have not been around, and I wanting to know what was going on… It was utter confusion.

As I grew a little older, I saw a picture of my grandfather smiling with my grandmother.  From that point I could no longer tell whether I was remembering an event or the photo. The mental picture I have of the event is the same image as the photograph, almost as if I was going through an out of body experience. Interestingly enough, that is how I have lead the rest of my life, as if I were watching someone else, watching myself making decisions and being cold to all the events.

Several years ago, around the summer of 2010, my grandfather came to me in a dream and I was smiling happy to see him, but he was upset with me. He said to me in an upset manner in spanish, “¿Gabriel, que estas haciendo con mi nombre de Sandoval?” (Gabriel, what are you doing with my name of Sandoval?) My smile turned in to a thoughtful frown. I had made my grandfather Manuel disappointed in me.

A couch potato, an activist, a teacher or friend to many, as someone who I never gives myself any credit that I really deserve. I am my own witness to my every deed as my grandfather is. I am a private but silent Judge and Juror observing and waiting until the very end to hand out my own sentence.

My name is Gabriel Ramiro Sandoval Cruz, many people refer to me as Cruzzer, and to the best of my knowledge this is a true story in my life.