By Gianna Campos
My father. A messy man, if we can even call him a man. I’ve said this countless times but he’s famous for being in and out of my life whenever he sees fit. When he’s in, he’s in. When he’s out, he’s out. Currently he’s out. But that’s all I ever speak on-- him being out.
This story has been difficult for me to write. Probably one of the hardest ones I’ve written on him. This is because for once I’m choosing to write about him in a positive aspect. Throughout all his wrongdoings there’s been one good thing he’s done for me. He’s inspired my biggest dream. To become a writer.
This messy man is probably the biggest conspiracy theorist I know, he always has been.
Growing up, when he was in, he would talk to me about a range of topics. Religion was the topic we touched the most. My faith in God has always been strong and a big part of that was because of him. He broke things down in a way that made sense, a way that never bored me.
Then he was out. And there went my source.
It’s not that the rest of my family isn’t religious, it’s just that no one seemed to talk to me the way he would. Our conversations always felt special; they flowed so easily.
That was one of the things I always appreciated about him. He always made it so easy to talk to him and growing up, that was what I needed. My mom has always had a hard time expressing herself so when I was younger she was never able to talk to me the way he could.
My mom has told me many times “he could break it down to you in a way that I didn’t know how to.” I think she’s always been thankful that at the very least he was able to teach me about something as important as religion.
Then he would be back in.
As I got older, the conversations became deeper. They still always tied into religion but this is where the “conspiracy theories” came in.
The theories always sound absurd whenever I bring them up to people, which is sort of funny because they never seemed out of the ordinary to me. A little unbelievable but not so far out that I couldn’t believe them. A couple of simple ones would be mind control and weather control. They’re pretty commonly talked about and seem to now be getting a lot more recognition. Though there will always be skeptics.
I assume I never questioned the theories because my father tied them in with religion and I never questioned anything about God so the same energy went to the theories as well.
The way I see (certain) conspiracy theories are as hidden truths, the secrets that America hides. My father “exposed” me to these truths and I want to do the same for the world. I want to give the world the truth.
Now, this is where my mother’s concern comes in.
My mom and I actually can both recall the first moment that I realized that this is what I wanted to do with my writing, sophomore year:
Me: “I remember the first year I had Tinoco I wrote a letter to Richard Spencer (well known racist/neo-nazi) and I had the option to mail the letter. What were your thoughts?”
My mom: “Oh great.. You’re definitely strong minded and you have a good head on your shoulders but, like I said, choose your battles.. You just gotta be smart. A lot of this is dealing with politics and politics is.. I just don’t want you in that. It makes me uncomfortable.”
Regardless, my mother still supports my dream. Whenever I read her any of my papers she always tears up and tells me how much she loves to hear my writing.
My mom: “The first time you read me something you wrote down on paper, well you made me tear up. You touched my heart, I don’t know I just love to hear your writing.”
Sometimes I wish I could hear my father say the same words.
My father. Such a messy man. I find it quite ironic how the “man” who has barely been present in my life has inspired my biggest dream. His conspiracy theorist ways completely rubbed off on me and have truly manifested into something great. Aside from wanting to expose the theories we discussed, I want to simply speak out on the topics that people shy away from. I want to challenge people like Richard Spencer and voice the opinions that others cannot. Really, I just want to be a badass journalist that will one day, hopefully, spark the minds of the youth.
And to my father, my messy man, I wish I could say I’m sorry that we can’t share the one good thing you’ve given me together, but I’m not.
Me: “How do you feel about the fact that he can’t even see it?” (His influence on my writing).
My mom: “I feel sad for him.. He doesn’t even know. He’s missed out. It’s his loss.”
My father. A messy man, if we can even call him a man. I’ve said this countless times but he’s famous for being in and out of my life whenever he sees fit. When he’s in, he’s in. When he’s out, he’s out. Currently he’s out. But that’s all I ever speak on-- him being out.
This story has been difficult for me to write. Probably one of the hardest ones I’ve written on him. This is because for once I’m choosing to write about him in a positive aspect. Throughout all his wrongdoings there’s been one good thing he’s done for me. He’s inspired my biggest dream. To become a writer.
This messy man is probably the biggest conspiracy theorist I know, he always has been.
Growing up, when he was in, he would talk to me about a range of topics. Religion was the topic we touched the most. My faith in God has always been strong and a big part of that was because of him. He broke things down in a way that made sense, a way that never bored me.
Then he was out. And there went my source.
It’s not that the rest of my family isn’t religious, it’s just that no one seemed to talk to me the way he would. Our conversations always felt special; they flowed so easily.
That was one of the things I always appreciated about him. He always made it so easy to talk to him and growing up, that was what I needed. My mom has always had a hard time expressing herself so when I was younger she was never able to talk to me the way he could.
My mom has told me many times “he could break it down to you in a way that I didn’t know how to.” I think she’s always been thankful that at the very least he was able to teach me about something as important as religion.
Then he would be back in.
As I got older, the conversations became deeper. They still always tied into religion but this is where the “conspiracy theories” came in.
The theories always sound absurd whenever I bring them up to people, which is sort of funny because they never seemed out of the ordinary to me. A little unbelievable but not so far out that I couldn’t believe them. A couple of simple ones would be mind control and weather control. They’re pretty commonly talked about and seem to now be getting a lot more recognition. Though there will always be skeptics.
I assume I never questioned the theories because my father tied them in with religion and I never questioned anything about God so the same energy went to the theories as well.
The way I see (certain) conspiracy theories are as hidden truths, the secrets that America hides. My father “exposed” me to these truths and I want to do the same for the world. I want to give the world the truth.
Now, this is where my mother’s concern comes in.
My mom and I actually can both recall the first moment that I realized that this is what I wanted to do with my writing, sophomore year:
Me: “I remember the first year I had Tinoco I wrote a letter to Richard Spencer (well known racist/neo-nazi) and I had the option to mail the letter. What were your thoughts?”
My mom: “Oh great.. You’re definitely strong minded and you have a good head on your shoulders but, like I said, choose your battles.. You just gotta be smart. A lot of this is dealing with politics and politics is.. I just don’t want you in that. It makes me uncomfortable.”
Regardless, my mother still supports my dream. Whenever I read her any of my papers she always tears up and tells me how much she loves to hear my writing.
My mom: “The first time you read me something you wrote down on paper, well you made me tear up. You touched my heart, I don’t know I just love to hear your writing.”
Sometimes I wish I could hear my father say the same words.
My father. Such a messy man. I find it quite ironic how the “man” who has barely been present in my life has inspired my biggest dream. His conspiracy theorist ways completely rubbed off on me and have truly manifested into something great. Aside from wanting to expose the theories we discussed, I want to simply speak out on the topics that people shy away from. I want to challenge people like Richard Spencer and voice the opinions that others cannot. Really, I just want to be a badass journalist that will one day, hopefully, spark the minds of the youth.
And to my father, my messy man, I wish I could say I’m sorry that we can’t share the one good thing you’ve given me together, but I’m not.
Me: “How do you feel about the fact that he can’t even see it?” (His influence on my writing).
My mom: “I feel sad for him.. He doesn’t even know. He’s missed out. It’s his loss.”