reassurement

[For you readers: I apologize for the metaphors... they're there to hide what's going on behind this mask. But hey, if you see through the breathing holes, then I applaud  you. Just know I come from a good heart that tries. However, there are some ideas that one can take nuggets from. I dont know... ]

It helps to know that you’re not the only one that is in a certain mess… a certain situation.
Ironically, it doesn’t give you the logical sense. The fact that someone else is in the same mess as you are doesn’t enforce the belief that what you’re doing is good due to the whole bandwagon “everyone else is doing it” appeal.
Rather, it gives a sense that you aren’t an alien. You aren’t a bad representative because you perform a wrongful deed. I know that even though the planets do things without shame doesn’t make my parallel actions right, nor does it disqualify me as a star.
Even though we all sin, it still helps to know that a friend is with you, struggling with the same problems.
It helps.

ph fallout

electric sun keeps shining wrapping daughters in the chrome…
the vultures make their money, thats where my body fell
oh, Lord save me from myself…

Well, this week has been an awkward one. Quite reminiscent to the cedar fires, though my Aunt didn’t stay over, and my family wasn’t as threatened as last time.
When you see Mount Miguel, which is 5-10 miles away from you, light up like a candle right before you hit the hay, it makes it hard to sleep. My neighbor took some pictures of our city burning while I was dozing off.

(http://s104.photobucket.com/albums/m176/Lover-of-Lake-Powell/Harris_Fire_Oct-2007/)

I’m glad for what I have… I still have a house to live in, the memories within it, items both priceless and worthless, and most importantly, I still have my family. It’s hard to imagine those who were directly affected by the flames, though. My Dad’s co-worker/friend’s house was burned and I’m surprised and glad in how shes coping with the loss. Grateful for what she still has.

However, what surprises me more is the response of those unaffected. For example, I signed online Tuesday to grab all the phone numbers that I have in case my house was jeopardized by the fire (yes, I was even willing to resort to the using the phone). One of the first pages I hit [probably off of AIM today or something] is about Brittney Spears. My gosh. I understand that she’s going through a hard time with multiple events, but who doesn’t? If Spears was a random Jane, people would think many of her situations are normal.
Right now, there are people who are losing their houses. Some have just rebuilt their house from the loss of the Cedar Fire, and find out that it’s burned down again by either the Witch Creek, Harris, or some other California Wildfire. It’s interesting even though disaster may strike, moments after, the electric sun will keep on shining. Is Elliot right? Are we truly mere hallow men; our parched voices merely speaking of frivolous chaff? Sorry, but Spears has her own life, I have mine. The public has their own life.

Another thing I found odd was the politics behind the fire. It’s sad how people will keep on trying to attack the opposing side whenever they can. “How come response to California Wildfires was faster than to Katrina?” Is it because President Bush is racist? Or is it because the governor actually asked for help? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not 100% pro-Bush person… nor am I anti. Qualified is my stance, and right now, we need help. I thought we are supposed to be unified in helping one another. Isn’t that what Benjamin Franklin strove for? Why not the same now? There’s time to blame after the flames… but right now, California doesn’t need the political hindrance.

I don’t know. These fires have lead my eyes to where the people wander. Some are blinded by the neon lights, others are taking every advantage they can to incline on the endless ladder, and others are actually helping. Others are actually reaching out when disaster strikes (or wants to). We aren’t savages anymore like our primitive ancestors were. We don’t belong to Anglo-Saxon history. Why should Cain’s blood run in our veins? Why can’t we be more like Abel?

“Faith in a fire shines the brightest.” Yeah, I can definitely agree with that.
I just wish more people had faith, including myself.

october ash

The 21st of October brings forth another ring of fire in San Diego.
While the sky isn’t bleeding and the air down in PH isn’t as bad compared to the cedar fires, 07 flames sure have had their support. Santa Ana winds [wow... we go from Saint Anne--Virgin Mary's mother--, to Santa Ana, to the Santa Ana mountains, to this mean dry wind flow], dry brush, global warming, and all that fun stuff.

I dont know… I found it kind of wrong for the people in charge of the music during lunch to be playing “Ring of Fire,” “Light My Fire,” “Is it Getting Hot in Here?” and other songs with the context of burning. People who know me know that I’m not the kind of person to go strict PC [politically correct] on everyone… but c’mon. That is inconsiderate to those who are directly effected by the fire. It’s a joke to everyone else because they aren’t being harmed. The sky is falling and everyone’s laughing. Travis, Chris, and the Iroz’s may call me a party pooper, but if that means being considerate of others feelings, then I’m fine with the names. Maybe this fire to them is a way of sifting the genetic pool of those who chose their houses “inconsiderately.” Maybe I’m taking this to another level haha.

The fire kind of shows me how fast things can dissipate. How some freak disaster–whether be natural or man-made–can come and easily destroy everything you had created and built.
What do we really have? Under all the papers, what do we really own?
The only thing that truly matters is family, friends, and God. Everything else will pass. All that we achieve, all that we make, all that we build, all that we plan… does it not go into the dust and memories of those you pass it onto? Whether it be fire or death, sooner or later, we will be stripped of all we try so hard to build.
I’m not saying that we shouldn’t mourn for what we lose. I’m more saying that we have such a limited time on this earth. Why not make the best of it? Once you’ve given your last breath, will you be thinking about the work that wasn’t completed or the memories not made with family? Will your job be your last thought or those who matter?
All things must pass… it’s only our kindness that won’t be left behind.

cell phone portraits

What’s up with these pictures of me?
They’re always… weird shots.

First there’s the picture of me with Jesse at Kathryn’s house with our pants down–thanks to Travis’ most perverted rule concerning pool [if you scratch, you pull your pants down and keep it there until the next turn]. That one was off of Anthony’s phone and posted on myspace for the longest time.
Now, today, Andrea takes a picture of me with my shirt off doing the haka.
Apparently there were some very awkward conversations were exchanged concerning those pics as well (refer to Ryan and Charise haha).
Weird stuff happens at SCPA… or more like the kids at SCPA do weird stuff.

Anyways, today was my first unofficial day at PAPIA. It was pretty fun… I’m still pretty bruised on my legs and red on the chest. I know all the movements and words for the haka… I just now need to refine it. I just worry that I may be jeopardizing my choral voice by shouting at the top of my lungs while adding that extra scratch for effect. Maybe the latter isn’t really needed. Oh well…

Otherwise, today was a pretty chill day… as are most even days.

Alaskan winter

Life.
What can you stuff in that one word? Yeah, dictionaries tell us what the definition is, but what is it?
A mere journey? Experiences for us to live and view and at the end, it’s over?
A test? Something to show our worth?
I’d like to stay away from the former. It shows no purpose and from my experiences, little truth. Then again, my life lately has been without purpose.

Today I was pretty emo in econ. Heck, I was a freakin current today… up and down, but even currents have their causes and purposes. While the moon does bring forth tides, it does provide light to those who have none. I just wonder what the light is in my situation.
I definitely sense that new unwanted gravity. Not sure why it’s there or what good it will bring forth to my life. Maybe I just need to wait for the sun to rise. Gosh… it feels like Alaska at winter.

I wont deny; there are things to look forward to now. I think my senior ex will be fun (though slightly unoriginal [scratch slightly]). But it seems all meaningless in the end. Aggregate demand. Yeah, I understand it. But why? What does it tell me as a person? I can probably use it in some argument against Lorenzo and his economical views of society, but what do I gain by learning how to live in Rome? Rome isn’t my home, yet I study the laws made by that nation as if I am to turn my green card to a citizenship certificate.
I guess life seems meaningless when the ones you care about dont reciprocate in the same fashion… or even close. Where, in statistical terms, if Im the regression line, my friend is a residual point thats far from the line. Maybe those two nouns should switch. Im the residual point, they’re the regression line. They know I exist… but just barely. The connection we once had… poof. Is there a point when a friendship is too far from being saved? Must some friendships end? Must the fire die?
What do I do? I should do more, but I dont know how to even start to rebuild. Regenerate.

I found this poem by Anne Sexton called “45 Mercy Street.” Peter Gabriel wrote a very nice song around that piece. The poem is quite contemplative and portrays a sense we all know: being lost.

In my dream,
drilling into the marrow
of my entire bone,
my real dream,
I’m walking up and down Beacon Hill
searching for a street sign –
namely MERCY STREET.
Not there.

I try the Back Bay.
Not there.
Not there.
And yet I know the number.
45 Mercy Street.
I know the stained-glass window
of the foyer,
the three flights of the house
with its parquet floors.
I know the furniture and
mother, grandmother, great-grandmother,
the servants.
I know the cupboard of Spode
the boat of ice, solid silver,
where the butter sits in neat squares
like strange giant’s teeth
on the big mahogany table.
I know it well.
Not there.

Where did you go?
45 Mercy Street,
with great-grandmother
kneeling in her whale-bone corset
and praying gently but fiercely
to the wash basin,
at five A.M.
at noon
dozing in her wiggy rocker,
grandfather taking a nap in the pantry,
grandmother pushing the bell for the downstairs maid,
and Nana rocking Mother with an oversized flower
on her forehead to cover the curl
of when she was good and when she was…
And where she was begat
and in a generation
the third she will beget,
me,
with the stranger’s seed blooming
into the flower called Horrid.

I walk in a yellow dress
and a white pocketbook stuffed with cigarettes,
enough pills, my wallet, my keys,
and being twenty-eight, or is it forty-five?
I walk. I walk.
I hold matches at street signs
for it is dark,
as dark as the leathery dead
and I have lost my green Ford,
my house in the suburbs,
two little kids
sucked up like pollen by the bee in me
and a husband
who has wiped off his eyes
in order not to see my inside out
and I am walking and looking
and this is no dream
just my oily life
where the people are alibis
and the street is unfindable for an
entire lifetime.

Pull the shades down –
I don’t care!
Bolt the door, mercy,
erase the number,
rip down the street sign,
what can it matter,
what can it matter to this cheapskate
who wants to own the past
that went out on a dead ship
and left me only with paper?

Not there.

I open my pocketbook,
as women do,
and fish swim back and forth
between the dollars and the lipstick.
I pick them out,
one by one
and throw them at the street signs,
and shoot my pocketbook
into the Charles River.
Next I pull the dream off
and slam into the cement wall
of the clumsy calendar
I live in,
my life,
and its hauled up
notebooks.

Actually, maybe “lost” is the wrong word, but I think you get the sense. I do feel like 16 Mercy Street has been moved–if 45 is based on her age. I won’t allow mercy to bolt the door nor will I close my shades, but it gets tiresome to find the right address. I swear they’ve moved that sign.
(here is Peter Gabriel’s version of the song)

Well, this isn’t how an undercover superhero should act. hahah I’m shocked that I got that standout… people said they voted for me for athletic or best to bring home to mom and dad (which, too is shocking in itself). I just wonder what part of the title “undercover superhero” fits me? The former or the latter? Well, if it’s the latter, I should be more up. How can I fight crime when I cut up my elbow hahah.

There is always some hope to hold onto.
One just needs to search.
[Oh--man, this changes the persona of the blog --happy birthday James and Tracy! I hope its as amazing of a year as it should be!]

soul nourishment

Music can feed the soul to satiation. However, satiation only depends on what you feed on.
I guess with my iPod broke, my food choices have been limited to how I feel, as opposed to what I need. Songs of contemplation only brought out my emotions as opposed to facing them.
However, today, while I was cleaning the house for Josh–man, my cleaning system is pretty bad… all event-based as opposed to consistent–I decided to play Sanctus Real’s new album, The Face of Love. It definitely was not my first choice, but I’m glad I listened to it anyways.
Lately, I’ve been hit with a lot of blows. The uncertainty of paying off two tours (around 1700 bucks), discovery of someone having a boyfriend, the burden of obligations that I shouldn’t have committed to, expectations, certain classes’ work and concepts, finding the right time to talk to certain persons… the weight adds on. I feel like Christian in John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s progress during the first few stages of his life (man, can that book be more creative with their character’s names?). I guess listening to Søren’s Song didn’t help my emotions from being resolved.

However, today, while cleaning the hallway, Sanctus Real’s words hit me pretty strongly. Matt Hammitt’s words usually don’t speak to me as well as Jon Foreman’s lyrics, but today, there wasn’t a song–well besides Eloquent, maybe–that wasn’t relevant to me. I may not know where to go now, but I have the general idea. While many paths may be going north, at least my compass can help me omit the other forks in the road. Pain sucks big time… but wading in it is even more shameful. And if some of my pain is caused by the inhibition of the possible shame our actions might bring forth, then how is wading in the past be any better?

I may miss the past and wish the present was as kind–not just the workload but also the connections–but in order for our wish to be granted, God can’t do all the work. The road ahead is difficult… but oh, the possibilities. We don’t have to live memories.

I remember back in 9th grade, when Kelsey and I used to talk about how wishy-washy we were–though the conversations usually pointed to her for the majority. I think the tides have turned, and the fingers point at me now. I’m bound to go into the dreams of shrinking stage, but like our market economy, recession is always followed by recovery. Unlike our market economy, recovery doesn’t need to recede. I have no clue what I’m babbling about anymore, so I think I’ll stop haha. All I know is that trying to fly again is better than staying grounded.

dreams of shrinking; desires of growth

Today was quite a workout… not really metaphorically or literally… eh. haha

During period 3 we took our class took the big “08″ picture both with and without signs–and of course the OG picture. Yesterday (or maybe even earlier), Chris Dao came up with the idea of taking a picture of himself and print a poster of it so when people ask “where are you Chris in the big 08?” he’d just point at the poster. It was a funny idea… and then Travis decided that we all do it… one big picture. I feel bad for Brian… we kicked him out of the picture and placed me in haha. And apparently, my head was the biggest problem of the poster .
Anyways, when Travis came today with the huge banner, I was amazed. The poster actually came out pretty amazingly chop sui express–no… that doesn’t work. It gave me something to look forward to during econ.

Today went smoothly, like the past few days… but… I just don’t feel full. Unsatisfied. It has nothing to do with my diet, but more with who I am.
During lunch, I wasn’t really part of any group at all. I was, at first, just listening to conversations by Chris, Emily, Travis, Victor, and Kathryn, but then I just went into my own world. I didn’t really feel at home with anyone. I just don’t feel… man, my dictionary stinks right now. I guess I feel displacent. The odd thing is that life isn’t going bad right now. I don’t have that much work, I’m finally somewhat recognized in Choral by Haus and other peeps, I’m making friends with some cool kids… but… I just dont feel satisfied. I dont really feel like I belong with anyone… yet I strive so hard to be with the friends I care about.
But honestly… Econ table, I’m one of the few kids who don’t talk. Might as well just keep Chris Iroz there. Stats, I’m the “outlier.” It’s an inside joke, but I do feel that way as well… Colleen, Hanna, and Alex Nizzoli are closely knitted while me and Anthony just aren’t fully dipped in the group. Well… we leave our marks as well. L7… I may be part of Travis’ subgroup, but the four of them definitely have a more similar mindset than I do. I mean… eugenics for the greater good versus Mr. morality.

Maybe I don’t try hard enough. Maybe I don’t put myself into conversations that others create. Maybe I try so hard to impress that I fear of moving. Maybe I should stop using anaphoras. Or possibly, I just don’t belong. I know the third one is true fosho. I hate making mistakes. I dislike failure. I fear being wrong. I grr at anaphoras. But mistakes is what brings forth progress. That’s why my friendship is falling through with one amazing friend. I can’t wish the past was here… something has to change.

There is beauty in this world… I should focus on that, but I can’t put aside these feelings.
They’ve been haunting me for too long… but I can’t tell how to get home.
I just fear that in the end, my actions I put on this earth wont matter.
The actions, the friendships, everything I’ve done would be for nothing.
I fear to move away from these monstrosities as well.

I’ve found that hole in the wall, Kierkegaard. How do I step out? Stupid walls..

come back and haunt me, follow me home
give me a motive, swallow me whole
they said ive lost it, what could i know
when i’m but a mockery, i’m so alone

sooner or later you’ll find out there’s a whole in the wall
sooner or later you’ll find out that you’ll dream to be that small

today is ours condemned to be free
free to keep breathing, free to believe
i’d like to find you down on my knees
oh God i believe, please help me believe

i gave it all away and i lost who i am
i threw it all away with everything to gain and im taking a leap
with dreams of shrinking

give me a motive…

modern-day currency

Yesterday I was in the locker room after a mediocre workout of Martial Arts.
As I was getting dressed into my normal clothes when this kid next to me starts to pervert the song “If You’re Happy and you Know It” song. Apparently, one must clap if you’re horny and you know it.
Man. How can one take a sunday-school song and turn it into something of sexual context. It wasn’t even funny.

That’s basically how society is. So many topics in today’s world are centered around the one subject of sex.
It sells. Advertisements using sex appeal is nothing new. Comedians having sexual innuendos is almost a given. Music having lyrics concerning the subject has been accepted. It’s everywhere. It’s industry, and I’m one of its’ buyers.

I mean, I laugh at Travis, Chris, and Victor’s jokes and comments. I mean, it’s funny. There’s a reason why it sells. Usually when an item is hot on the market (pun not intended), theres usually a reason why it is. For some, it makes them feel good. Makes them laugh. But… what do you have after it’s all done?
“Addictive bittersweet; clap your hands to the hopeless nicotine.”
At least, when I’d tossed my coins of sin, I never felt accomplished or like I gained anything [for clarification, I'm a virgin. I don't mean that]. What do I gain in the end of it all?
I’m not attacking sex itself. I’m not saying that pleasure is bad. I’m more just struck by how the whole thing has been abused and overused. It’s even gone into the realms of other topics. The connotation of love means eros. Agape and philia have been stowed under the covers. Lust and love are two different sisters. Sex is easy and quick… love [the other connotations] takes time to develop.

The Industry gets old, yet it still sells.
It’s too bad purity is seen pedantic and isn’t bought as much.
Maybe it’s just scared of dying alone…

163

Even though I don’t talk much about sports in my blogs, I think it’s appropriate to mention that it has been a great year to follow the Padres through their season.

Our offense finally improved with the additions of Bradley, Harriston, and Kouzmanoff. Bud Black widened our opportunities by allowing the youth to actually play. It was a fun year.
Even though last nights game didn’t turn out the way we all wanted it (we referring to those who actually favored the Padres >.>), Bradley chose a bad time to get mad at the ump–though it was justifiable–Cameron was out for the week, and we only had 11 games rest. Terrible schedule planning. Thanks Bud Selig… very little relation to none. -.- And to blame Hoffman, he hasn’t blown that many saves. 7 is an average for any great reliever. Saito has had 6, Valverde (whom I wince for putting him under these other great relievers) has had 7. Cordero 7… Hoffman falls under that standard deviation. He just chose a bad time to be streaky on the negative aspect, but it’s not like we were playing the Reds, Mets, or any other team outside our division. Every year, since 96–the year Colorado was added to the franchise–, Colorado has been playing the Padres for 90 games… Hoffman’s secret touch is being well known.
And to say we’ve lost our touch seeing that we won two division titles in the previous years is mere ignorance. Competition was hot this year, unlike the prior years. Colorado actually had a good bullpen to face. We were over 500.

Anyways… it was a fun season. I was bummed, but it’s all good. As for the Chargers… ehh… lets just say even before he was fired, I was okay with having an amazing season without a good post-season.
I don’t agree with Travis’ idea with the “San Diegan curse”… we’re a fairly new team. We can get there… Red Sox broke theirs… White Sox broke theirs and no one talked about it (much). I just hope–and I doubt–that it will take us that long to break ours.

In the meantime… Arizona can go lose. Playing their minor leaguers is cheap, and is possibly the reason why we faced Colorado. I tip my hats to the Rockies… fun game. LA and AZ >.> you fail. Go Yanks! [I'm expecting hate replies for saying that]
Otherwise, I’m looking forward to March 2008 [or is it April? hehe]