The Return of Gabriel Anderson: Part Three**

**(Duckies, first off sorry for the tardiness. Blogging on an iPad is a troublesome thing. I finised this post last night but when I saved it and tried to edit it from the beginning it wasn't allowing me to scroll down the text box; instead the entire screen would just move, frozen. It was ridiculous. Anyway, here's the post.)

Hi sexy.
Today was such a fabulous day. My work day went by incredibly fast. Coordinating my birthday for nearly the entire day could be the cause.
For all those who were invited to my 23rd birthday party, stay close to your phones. Something very important is going to happen on August 12th @1PM. I repeat, ON AUGUST 12th, 2011 @ 1PM a surprise will be sent to those who confirmed their RSVP. (Step 1 was purely FaceBook, so I could get a rough estimate. Step 2 is contacting me via phone, telling me you have this day in your calendar. And everyone should wear helmets because I'm gonna blow ya minds!
Corny? BLEH.

Oh, duckies whenever I come across something that I dislike, in any situation, I say "BLEH!"
I'm blogging from my iPad and I don't feel like doing the crazy process of much uploading and editing pictures. So this will just be (mainly) text-heavy.

You've been forewarned.

I'm currently house-sitting & dog-sitting in West Harlem for one my fabulous soulmates: Courtney.
I was drinking Merlot and watching Tosh.O in my undies not too long ago.
Courtney's off visiting the rest of her sassy clan out of town.
OMGaGa! The funniest thing happened today.
I was at work and I was leaving the office to go to lunch. Immediately after I open the door my eyes go straight to the floor. There was money right across from the door, next to the lockers in the hallway. I checked the hallway and no one was coming.
By the time I locked the door, a fabulous Asian doctor is in front of the lockers, about two inches right of the discarded dollar bills.
She was facing the lockers and didn't seem to notice the money. With her back to me I though of the quickest solution. I walked a little to the left of her and dropped my wallet, not too far away from the money. And my reactio of speech was, "Oh-My-G0d. This is crazy," which got the doctor's attention.
She looked at me smiling, replying, "I could keep it."
And I just laughed and walked away with...four dollars.
Yaaaaay!

That doesn't happen.
Enough of my day, let's get to Part Three of "The Return of Gabriel Anderson."

My body felt so weak. I could hardly keep my balance or speak. My entire being was being drained. I was slowly feeling myself fading. My life source was depleting. I couldn't feel my feet. My legs felt like they were vibrating because of how much I was trembling. I was incredibly hot and freezing at the same time. It was a struggle to stay conscious. I couldn't really move my arms and my thoughts were slow. But a voice in my head told me to get help.
Then I realized the presence of the entity that made me do things was gone. I was so happy that I nearly fell to the floor.
I could finally relax...but I knew I couldn't do that.
Within the past three hours, I had taken six pills for a hyperactive disorder and drank an entire bottle of red wine. Plus I was dehydrated from dancing in the hot sun, in the backyard.
Relaxing would mean the end.
The next thing I remember was walking to my room and right before I closed the door my grandma came into our house.
She looked at me and knew I wasn't well. Her first words were "Something told me to come upstairs."
I said "I think I need to go to the hospital," before closing my door to take off my clothes.
I needed to be naked. I needed nothing constricting me. But I left my underwear on because I knew my grandma would come in.
I laid on the bed and stopped trying to control my body.
I was slipping away and right before I blacked out I reached out to God.
"Please, take me."
I woke up a few minutes later to knock of my door. I felt wet. I looked down and I noticed that one side of my boxer briefs were a different color and my mattress pad felt drenched. I told my grandma she could come in, but my voice came out strangled. It sounded like i said "Chum een." When she walked in I placed my hand on the wet spot on the mattress pad, and lifted my hand to sniff it.
It didn't have smell. I pissed out water.
She looked at me, and her eyes held such disgust and worry.
"Ganriel, oh my God, we need to get you to the hospital. Do you need help getting dressed?"
I shook my head.
She left the room, grabbing one of the house phones from my shelf behind the door, to call a cab.
It took me about ten minutes to put on a pair of briefs, jeans, a Bloomingdales t-shirt, and Bloomingdales sneakers.
I was dying. I wasn't going out like bum. I wanted a fabulous picture for my obituary.

The cab company got us a cab in three minutes. We got in the cab and I couldn't seem to focus on any thoughts. So I grabbed my grandma's hand and reached out to God again.
"God, I'm sorry. I need you now. Please keep me."
Suddenly, I felt overcome with a sense of serenity and I was clear-headed. I was now able to focus but I had to concentrate to keep awake.
To keep myself busy I read whatever words I saw in the cab: it's stickers, the license information, cab passenger rights, and other sings...aloud. And then I told my grandma what was flowing through my system.

Whem we got to the hospital, my grandma sped into the Emergency Room. I dragged behind her and when I got through the doors, she pointed to me and said' "this is him."
Two nurses in blue scrubs rushed me through several sets of double doors to a large space.
In the middle of the large space was a circular medical counter with about fifteen nurses and doctors, who were manning computers, medical supplies, and phones. Surrounding the circular counter was an outer circle of a lot of people in hospital gowns. They were on stretchers and hooked to IVs. Each person had a section blocked off with curtais, to give the illusion of privacy. But only the sides were divided, leaving the front of the curtained "rooms" open and easy to observe from the circular medical counter.

The baby blue nurses led me to an open curtained "room" and left me to a different nurse, one dressed  in red, who handed me a blue hospital gown, green floor-ribbed socks, and a blue bag to put my clothes in.
I closed my curtain so I could change. My grandma was in there with me, while I got naked.
I'm not comfortable with being naked in front of family members but nakedness was the lesser evil today. I needed to survive.
After changing I laid on the stretcher and a blue nurse began talking to me. She gave me a breathing test, an ECG (Echocardiogram: Basically a sonogram that's used for your heart.), and then they hooked me up to an IV.
A very pretty nurse in blue came to give me a tetnus booster. Did I mention I scraped a quarter of the front skin off of my right big toe, while walking around barefoot in the neighborhood?
It looked disgusting and it hurt like shit.
I couldn't help but talk to the pretty nurse.

My absolute weakness is...a gorgeous woman. I would do close to anything for one. (Example: My soulmate Nora. This girl is so beautiful. Her irises are like whirlwind of the richest blues, cenetered around the most shapely pupils. Her rosy skin, sprinkled with freckales. Her beautiful, free, and lively hair. And that smile. It's such a delight to have this amazing person in my life. She's genuine. She's #1.)

Sorry. I'm a writer. Sometimes I have to stop and paint pictures with my words.
Back to the story.
So I started talking to the nurse."

"How bad is it?" I asked.
"It's not bad but it could get infected fast."
"Okay, do it."
She passed me a clear Liter mesauring cup, filled with cold water and crushed ice, which is my absolute favortie. Crushed ice makes the world go 'round.
She prepared the needle and to keep my mind off what she was doing, I sparked a convrsation. But I was feeling so relaxed. Too relaxed.
I don't know what they put in that IV, but I was "So Happy I Could (Have) Die(d)."

"What's your name?" I asked her.
"Val."
"Nice to meet you Val. Thanks for taking care of me."
She stopped preparing the shot and looked at me. She smiled and it grew into something glorious. I was happy that I made her happy.
"Val, you're really pretty."
Her smile beamed at me, while her cheeks grew pink.
"Thank you...she looked at my chart...Antoine."
"It's tru-"
She gave me the shot.

Suddenly my heart started racing and I couldn't catch my breath. I poured the ice cold water on my head to shock my body into being calm. It backfired. I started shaking as if I was a part of an individual earthquake. I knew this was the end.
I looked up to the lights, and notcied one hallogen bulb wasn't on. I looked into and I could see my reflection.
Tears started streaming down my face and I made my peace with God.

"Just take me. I'm ready."
Then words--that weren't my own--replied to my reflection, coming out of my mouth:

"I have you my child."

Then it went black.

The Return of Gabriel Anderson: Part Two

Evening duckies.
I hope you all had a fabulous Monday. I know I did. The day went by pretty fast and I couldn't wait to get home so I could share this next post with you. But I must hurry. The Season 2 Premiere of "The A-List: New York" comes on tonight at 10pm.

But my other favorite show, MTV's "Teen Wolf," comes on at the exact same time.
Luckily for me though, "Teen Wolf" replays the same new episoode at 11pm. Plus the season is almost over...which saddens me.

Am I the only one that thinks Derek is the sexiest thing ever created next to sushi in bed, after sex?

Anywho, "Teen Wolf" comes on Mondays @ 10pm (EST) on Mondays and "The A-List: New York" comes on Mondays as well, @ 10pm (EST) on Logo. (Check your cable provider for channels and listings.)

Time to get down to business. Here's part two of my TRUE story.

My two best friends that were staying over weren't really awake or paying me any attention, at the time, so I decided to go outside to make my dreams come true. The warrior angel inside my mind told me that in order for me to "fly the nest" (aka metaphor for moving out the house and gaining true independence) I had to give up all my worldly possessions.

(Duckies, I want you to know something. I love all my stuff. My Mom calls me a closet hoarder. I agree with her to a certain degree but I hoard things that hold sentimental value to me. For example, one thing I hoard is  birthday cards & Christmas cards that people give me. BUT only if they have a thoughtful personal message in them and/or a cute picture.)

Since the angel told me I had to get rid of my worldly possessions to achieve my goals, I decided to take a walk around my neighborhood. But when I went outside I took a few things with me to leave on stairs to my house, so people walking by could take them. I remember taking my "trophy" that everyone got at my high school prom. But I don't remember what else I left outside.

Oh and did I mention I took a walk around my neighborhood, without any footwear?

I mean Jesus did it, why couldn't I? I didn't realize at the time that Jesus didn't have to worry about stepping in dog shit, broken glass, or other nasty things that we litter the streets with today. (Scratch that, dogs were alive so maybe he did have to worry about dog shit. My bad Jesus.)

Oh, and it gets better. 

Before I left my house, I knew that whatever was influencing me was a warrior entity. So guess what I did? I painted my face with my Mom's yellow-glittered eye shadow. I know, what you're thinking. Gabriel, you are a fucking lunatic. But before you throw stones, ask yourself this. Who the fuck wears yellow-glittered eye shadow?

After I painted my face--I circled my eyes with it and put some on & above my cheeks--I headed out for my barefoot stroll around my neighborhood. Luckily it was about 7am so almost everyone on my street was either still sleeping or already left for work.

With my "war paint" on I felt so fierce and unconquerable. 

In actuality I was told later that I looked like a clown that just swam about 20 laps in the Dead Sea.

You thought that was it? Oh no, that was only the beginning. 

In addition to me being barefoot and looking like a bootleg crackhead, I was looking directly into the Sun and singing to it, with the help of my iPod. Yes, I was looking directly into the Sun. Do you know what happens to your eyes when you look directly into the Sun? You can damage your optics and possibly go blind.

I remember singing "Your Love Is My Drug," "I Hate This Part," "Halo," and "Blah Blah Blah."

So I walked around my neighborhood barefoot and guess where I ended up? A few streets away in the park by my house, swinging on the kid swings...still singing to the Sun!

(Disclaimer: I love swings. If it were okay for adults to be on swings in parks (who don't have children) I'd be on a swing everyday. I love them, especially when I'm under any kind of influence. I just love the feel of the wind in my {imaginary long} hair. I wasn't on the swings because of my mental breakdown. I was on the swing because I looooooove them.)

Anywho, on my way back to my house I saw my mother and she gave me a look that clearly said, "What the fuck are you doing and who are you? You are not Antoine." I walked passed her, still singing aloud and she just kept walking to the train, to get to work.

I also ran into Antoinette and she came up to me and tried talking to me. But the warrior angel inside me didn't want to be interrupted, for worship is a sacred thing. So as Antoinette tried to talk to me my bare feet kept moving and my throat kept singing.

Antoinette took the hint and kept walking to the train, to get to school.

On my walk back home I discovered that the "gifts" (the worldly possessions I left on my front stairs) were still there. I felt defeated.

After seeing this the angel told me that my sacrifice wasn't worthy for what I was demanding: fame, fortune, and happiness. I needed to perform something bigger, something more specific, and something I was great at doing. I thought dancing in my backyard would suffice but the angel told me it wasn't enough. So I grabbed a bottle of Sweet Bitch Bitch wine from the basement fridge and headed to the backyard to perform the ritual.

I took the Bible with me and things that represented the specific achievements I wanted out of life. I took the prom "trophy" (fame), my small remote control Bumblebee from "Transformers" car (a sexy car), my Yoga mat (health), glasses (insight), my wallet (wealth) and my student loan papers (debt-free) with me to the backyard. Well, that's what I remember bringing outside.

The ritual went like this: grab whatever "achievement" I wanted to have & hold it while reciting a random verse from the Bible. Next, take a swig of Sweet Bitch. Then, pick a song on my iPod that I knew the choreography to and dance until the song was over. Repeat until every "achievement" was blessed.

It wasn't until I went upstairs to my house that I realized there was something terribly wrong with me. I approached my best friends, who were finally awake, and told them I was getting closer to God.  They knew that I wasn't that religious and knew something was peculiar about my behavior.

I mean, I was wearing yellow-glittered eye shadow. I was breathing like I just did a marathon in under an hour and my speech was slurred. And I was told later that my eyes looked pitch black.

From what I can remember they tried to help me but they weren't really helping me.

They just kept telling me to relax and center myself. They didn't seek help from anyone in the house or decide I needed professional help. 

Duckies, I love the two best friends that stayed over and witnessed me going crazy...but if they were in my position I would have gotten them help immediately.  Regardless of their attempt at helping me, I tried to listen to them. I even laid on the floor and tried to push this entity out of me...but I wasn't stable or strong enough to beat it.

I finished an entire bottle of red wine, took six pills of ADD medication and I was "possessed" by something so strong that I couldn't think straight.

The real Gabriel, my true self, was pushed back and this entity had taken over completely. I knew exactly what was happening but it was as if I was watching a show. Every sense was enhanced but I couldn't filter anything.

Something else was inside me and things got worse when I tried to stand up.

I nearly fell to the ground and my head felt like I barely survived a stampede.

And I knew what was happening. This "angel" wasn't trying to get me to sacrifice my worldly possessions to reach them.

It was trying to kill me and by the time I realized it, I was already dying.

TO BE CONTINUED!

("The Return of Gabriel Anderson: Part Three will be posted tomorrow night! Stay tuned duckies.)

The Return of Gabriel Anderson: Part One

Well, hello my beautiful duckies.

I know, it's been toooooo long since my last post. I apologize for the hiatus but so much kept me from blogging...and you have every right to know exactly what happened. Here's what you missed.

I graduated from University of Hartford, on May 16, 2010: majoring in English, with an emphasis in Creative Writing.

I was hospitalized for an entire month and (wrongfully) diagnosed with a (fcuking sad excuse for a) mental illness.

I've recovered from my "mental illness."

I am now working with a temp agency, that finds me jobs that pay $16/hr. (I work Mon-Fri, 9am to 5pm. I've been employed with them since March 2011 and I've only been "unemployed" for only two weeks.)

And I now have a (Black Card) Gym Membership with Planet Fitness.

Yes, it is a lot to take in. But I shall elaborate on each update...except for graduation. I mean, I did my four years at UHA. I did naughty things: almost got in trouble with Public Safety for some illegal things, played with boys between classes, struggled through my Capstone class (which was the biggest pain in my ass...and I've had quite a few pains in that area), and graduated with Magna Cum Laude Honors.

Now, to the heavy stuff. I think you all need to know why I was gone for so long. My family doesn't like talking about this but I don't care. This really happened to me and it's my story to tell.

Everything I'm about to share are true facts. There may be a few jokes here and there. But humor helps me heal.

During my last semester of school, I became severely depressed. It got so bad that I actually contemplating ending it all. I know, crazy right?! Since I was younger I've always been put under a never-ending wave of pressure to achieve something greater than everyone else in my family. Before May 16th, 2010 I was the only one in my immediate family to complete a 4-year college.

I was militantly trained.

**

**(This is an actual picture of my 2 year-old self.)

I was taught how to read by the time I was 2. Yes, I've been able to read since I was 2. As most kids were given cookies and treats, I was given the same and a plethora of new words to master. My favorite word when I was 5 was "astonished." I was such a snobby kid. I was always dapper, dressed in tennis sweaters, polo shirts, and other pretentious garments.

To determine the worth of other kids, when I was 5, I would go up to them and say...

I was a dick.

Anywho, during my last semester in college the pressure got the best of me. I was juggling my college radio show--"Gabriel and Friends"--by myself (developing topics, inviting guest DJs, finding new music, etc.), I was the go-to building manager in the morning for my school's Student Union for most of the week, I was a registered party planner on campus, I had 18 credits to fulfill (4 of them being a class I had to take again because I failed it the previous semester), and my Capstone class was fucking ridiculous...

If I can remember clearly for this one class we had to read 5 books and give a 4-page minimum report on each of the books; develop three lesson plans and teach them to an actual high school class; attend ALL the readings that were hosted by the University, on campus; coordinate and participate in at least two events of April's "Day of Poetry"; create a theme for our portfolio; research authors' work that matched the prevalent theme that we had to create for our portfolio, (using at least 3 books outside of class); write a 15-page introduction about the authors' work, in relation to our theme and work; (the finale) create a polished portfolio, with a minimum of 30 pages, in addition to the 15-page introduction.

Mind you, that was just one class. And this class happened to be scheduled 7:30pm - 10pm on Thursdays...and our professor never let us out early.

Okay, I'm sorry. I often get sidetracked when talking about sass. This is the Sass Corner.

Back to the story.

As said before I was always pressured to become something great. The pressure got the best of me and I cracked. I was so worried about getting a job right after school and moving out that I actually thought I had the ability to do so. I believed that I had everything I needed to begin life as a liberated college grad. I was... delusional.

Toward the end of my last semester in school, my friend Shelby and I were planning on birthing a PR Firm. We were called Innovative Relations. We even ordered business cards and everything. (Oh and FedEx, sorry I never came to pick them up...or pay for them.)

We rushed into this business and we even got some attention from some very promising clients. I got so whisked away in the idea of living the life before I had the funds. This is where everything turned to shit.

I built an entourage of three of my close friends, appointing them different positions to help me fulfill my dream. Not only did I recruit them, I pretty much treated them like unworthy subordinates.

I didn't realize I was treating them like shit until it was too late. And by too late I mean overdosing on my friend's ADD medication. Yup, it got that crazy. I'm not gonna lie, I did use prescription drugs, mainly Adderall, while I was in college. I used them to stay awake to complete papers or last-minute projects. But that's when you take one pill at a time.

I took six pills...at once.

I was up for a a total of four days straight. And in those four days I did some ridiculously crazy things. I growled at people when I was angry. I thought I was in a magical land where I could perform spells. I believed that my mother sold my soul to the devil. I also thought that my grandfather was a vampire. (That I still think is true.)

During those days it was as if I had awaken a dark, shadow personality that dwelt within me. He was too sassy for words, bossy, and a straight-up dick! (I don't know if I mentioned this to you before, but I do have a demon inside of me. His name is Baklahdah.)

Around midnight of the fourth day, after watching "Sherlock Holmes" I came up with a brilliant idea that in order to make it big I had to make a sacrifice to God, but through a ritual that required a blood sacrifice. But I didn't know how to do it exactly.

A few hours later my stepdad was getting ready for work. And I told him that I needed some guidance. Being the devout Christian that he is, he told me that I should read the Bible.

Duckies, the worst thing you can say an emotionally-unstable person, who has been awake for more than 80 hours, is read the Bible.

Have any of you duckies ever read the Bible? Excuse me, but that shit is fcuked up. It's full of judgement, magical stories, and punishment. NEVER read it without a guide.

(Side note: Does anyone else think it's weird that J.C. had his disciples--and current C'tians--symbolically drink his blood and digest parts of his body? I'm sorry, why am I doing this? Your blood has magic? Oh, you must be a vampire or a demon. Think about it.)

Anyway, I started reading the Bible and I began crying. I skipped around to random parts and read about the destruction of the world, the devil's reign on the Earth, punishment for sins, leviathans in the deep, and Hell. I immediately ran to my bedroom window and ripped out my screen. I started shouting scriptures from my window because I thought the world should know that we were all doomed.

After about 20 minutes of recite-shouting religious scriptures from the Bible and weeping, I knew that no one was listening. I did the only thing I felt was right. I prayed for God to help me.

Remember how I told you I had awaken a dormant, shadow personality inside of me? Well after I prayed, I felt empowered and invincible. It was as if I was another person. I believed that I had come into contact with an actual angel. I believed that a warrior angel commandeered my body.

The angel told me that I needed to make a sacrifice unto the Lord. Before I knew it I had swallowed about six pills of my friend's ADD medication. (Duckies, at the time I thought I only took two. I later found out that I had consumed close to eight pills that day.)

Since I was up all day, I made a cocktail which symbolized the blood sacrifice needed to commence the ritual.

I mixed fresh strawberries, lemonade, and spiked it with vodka. I made about half a gallon of the "blood." Two of my best friends were sleeping over my house and but both were sleeping (in different rooms) even through my weeping and chanting. I blacked-out for most of the ritual but I do remember going back and forth, Bible in hand, reading random scriptures and taking the offering of blood (the cocktail) and telling my two best friends to drink it.

I could tell by their faces when I woke them to drink that they felt something was wrong, but didn't say anything. But I wasn't in control of my own body so I couldn't ask them to help me.

I was all alone, possessed by a fallen angel.

TO BE CONTINUED...

("The Return of Gabriel Anderson: Part Two" will be posted at midnight/12am of July 26, 2011)