The Mood of a Warrior

Writing an essay on a book or story I have read, this is definitely a tough topic to write about, considering the fact I've never bee too much of a reader.

Not that I don't like reading, I just never really find that book that catches my interest enough to finish it. Although, when I was younger, I did read a couple of "Goosebumps" books, and every now and then, in school, we would read some stories together, but that doesn't really count. During my junior year I started reading Harry Potter, but I kind of gave up on him and his friends half way through the book.

Then one day I picked up a book called "Hot Zone." It was about the origin of the Ebola virus and how once you where infected you start to bleed through literally every opening in your body. But once again, for some odd unexplainable reason, I closed the book. And never opened it again.

But then, I met a very interesting character, someone that stood out a bit. There was something about this person that would always leave me pondering. Once I began to really know him, I realized we agreed on some of the same aspects of life. We had a tendency to wonder why some things were the way they where. Some might call this meaningless teenage metaphysics, others might not, regardless, one day he told me there was this book that I had to read. It was a book by an author named Carlos Castaneda who spends months of his life living, "learning" and recording the ways of a shaman/sorcerer. Supposedly Castaneda started talking to this shaman, because he wanted to research the hallucingogen pryote, and it turns out he had a lot more to learn.

This book definitely caught my interest from the beginning, because it is supposedly a true story, and this shaman supposedly has special powers, and as you go on in the book you learn as well as Castaneda was supposedly learning. The shaman talks about things like controlling your dreams, how there are plaves on earth that have more energy than others and then he starts making cars dissapear and stuff, and that's when things started going from interesting to complete and udder nonsence. This book, I did finish and when I finished it, I wasn't to satisifed. But anyway it was the first book that really caught my attention, and sent me on a path, "The Journey to Ixtlan, The Mood of a Warrior."

My Momma..

"Men are what their mothers made them." Ralph Waldo Emerson

If there is one person on this planet that I owe everything too, it most definitely will have to be my momma. From the moment she brought me into this god forsaken world she’s been going out of her way to do everything she can for me, and I will forever be in debt to her.
My mothers name is Anita and she was born in Cuba, when she was 2yrs old she moved to Spain where she grew up with her mother and step dad. After growing up in Spain she moved to the states where she met my daddy-O at age 16, by age 17 she was already working with him. After we were born (me and my two siblings) my momma stopped working and became an ordinary housewife, leaving all the work to the big guy.
Once my momma and “fasha” got divorced my mommy put her boots on and started working. She had picked up some skills from my daddy from all the years they had worked together in the jewelry business during her early life. And with those few skills she picked up, she hustled her way up to the way my siblings and I live today, all by her self.
My mommy has always given me everything I need, even though most of the time I don’t deserve shit, actually I don’t think I deserve anything, because I’m just a lazy 17 yr old who doesn’t even do that good in school and only likes to party, and barley even shows his appreciation, but regardless she still busts her ass in everyway possible for me, and like I said at the beginning of this little essay I will forever be in debt to my momma!