more than mere memory

There is comfort in routine.  Uncertainty can many times be frightening, depending on the conext.  Thus, routine ensures the idea that things will go as planned.  There are definintely proponents to this idea, but I’m glad that something tugged me away from it today.

After taking eating lunch outside, routine asked me to go and work on my piano skills — seeing how rusty they are.  However, I looked at the ocean that we Lomalites sometimes take for granted and I paused and decided to extend my break a little more.  I walked down the stairs, past the golden gym, and stood on top of the fitness building, looking aimlessly around. 

There was ease in those moments.

I began remembering how things used to be.  I looked down on the field and remembered seeing Jackie picking up balls as her favorite golf class was ending.  I looked over at the benches and remembered cheering on Evan during one of his games.  I remembered how I was running around the gate at night after coming back from the library so I could play fugitive and I tripped and skinned my knee. 

So many memories.

I tried to remember how I felt when I first came to Loma.  A new boy who had nothing to lose by raising his hand in class.  No more conceptions of who I was/what box I should be placed in — at least not yet.  A new boy sitting in his room because he didn’t know how to approach his new hall mates.  A new boy who spent the whole semester trying to find who the heck that girl was that reached out to him during NSO.

So many memories.

It made me wonder:  why do we reminisce?  What gives us the urge to make us remember pivotal memories, be them good or bad (though usually the case of the former)?  Many people say it’s a mere yearn for what was good in our lives.  However, the realism in us tries to push it away.  “We live in the now” our side cries out.  “The past is the past.  Those good feelings are over.  It’s time to move on.” 
Yes. 
We can’t live in the past.  But something inside is trying to tell us something.

Is it a mere defense mechanism, a homeostatic response to make us feel good?  I think that’s closer to the point, but I would definitely reword it.  I don’t see it as a mere chemical reaction.  It can’t be.

Maybe we reminisce because something inside of us is trying to say that there is still hope.  There is still good.
Many times in our lives, we get caught up in the monotony of routine. 

On, off.  Back and forth.  Tick tock.  Days pass by.  Pay day.  Buy food.  Do the dishes.  Pay the bills.  Loans.  Expenses.  Debt.  Suicide bombing.  Genocide.  War threat.  Friend dies by gang violence. 

After a while, all we see are the negative attributes of life.  After all, it’s always sorrow that hits the headlines.  Heavy stories make for heavy purchases.  Negative stories come in bulk.
Nevertheless, the positive events still exist.  But they come in small progressions.  Does that mean they are outweighed by the negative stories?  Not at all!  But good is not as easy to see as bad.  It takes a bit of looking to see what truly is good.

But when do we have time to look?  When do we give ourselves time to stop what we’re doing and see the good in things?  With such schedules and routines that we give ourselves — and many times rightfully so — when do we have time to see the good in this world?

So goodness reaches to us at even closer level.
Our memories.

When we reminisce, it isn’t so we can feel good about the past and try to remember the glory days.  No.  Not at all.  The realism in us is right to say that the past is the past.  It isn’t about reliving our old experiences. 

It’s about hope. 
Hope that new memories can form.  
Hope that there still is good in this world. 
Hope that despite our barricades, our snares, our issues in society… despite all the problems that arise around us and within us… there is evidence; there is proof; there is hope that the good we experienced in our lifetime is not over.

stories of the ocean

I’d love to learn how to surf.  In fact, I find it odd that I don’t know how to surf.
I go to a campus that was rated second best college for surfing.  Many of my friends last year taught themselves how to surf — my roommate included.  One of my heroes loves surfing.  This list could go on.

I find that surfing can teach one a lot of things.  A surfer is faced to deal with water in all its conditions.  Water is calm.  Water is ferocious.  Water is movable.  Water moves others.  Water can not be broken.  Water breaks others.

The ocean is a force to be reckoned with, yet there is no equation that fully controls its powers.  Of course, there are patterns one can learn, but the ocean can never fully be controlled.  Surfers know this.  Maybe that’s why their lives are different.

While life may not adjust in a cup the way water does, but the ocean has many parallels with life.  Life fluctuates and changes in a manner of seconds.  One can never control the way life throws us joy and pain.

Yet we try.

We try so hard to make our lives fit in a perfect box.  We try to so hard to make our plans fit in a perfect timeline without any room for error.  But things happen.  Life throws waves at us.  Life’s current pulls us a different direction than the one we are heading for. 

Things just don’t go the way we want them to, sometimes.  Today, was one of those days.  I was asked to perform a couple pieces with my Dad and Josh and rehearsing just didn’t go the way I wanted it.  It was so last minute that we ran out of time.  Here, I had to play three songs with Josh and my Dad:  two that were half-baked and the last wasn’t even touched.  I’ve played these pieces before, but through different mediums.  I always used a bass rather than an acoustic, so that meant I needed to change things.  But I was out of time.  The show had to go on.

On the ride to the event, I was royally pissed at the way things were working out.  These songs were not ready to be performed and all of us knew it.  Then I actually thought about one of the songs.  “We Ride”  by Fiction Family.  It’s a song about surfing.  It’s a song about living.  Heck, it’s a song about my situation.

Life throws harsh blows.  This isn’t one of them, but it was definitley a wave that knocked me off my board.  But what am I going to do?  Do I stay on the beach and never touch the ocean again?  Or do I get my board and roll with the waves that hit me?  Waves will come in life, but that’s no excuse to cop out.  We can’t control these waves.  We can’t put up boundaries to prevent the sea’s blows.   We can go home and seperate ourselves from the ocean.  We can decide to let the ocean swallow us whole.  Or we can ride.  Ride the wave.  Ride the problems of life and have fun.

Yes.  I would love to learn how to surf.  I’m sure the ocean has many more stories that I’d be eager to learn.

PI09

Right now I am writing indepth stories of my trips of the Philippines.
However, it’s being saved on the proper date that the actual trip took place.

Click here to read each entry

Prologue [hundreds.]
Day One
Day Two
Day Three
Day Four
Day Five
Day Six
Day Seven
Day Eight
Day Nine
Epilogue

xeromorph

In 10th grade, my English teacher Mr. Jerry Urick had us to create a list of adjectives to describe us.  The trick was, we were only allowed to use twenty-six adjectives, one for each letter in the alphabet.  For example, you take “A.”  Your adjective could be “advanced,” then you write a sentence or two defending why you find yourself advanced.  Then you take “B.”  Your adjective could be “buff,” then you defend your argument with a sentence or two.  You do the same for each letter.  Silly but interesting exercise—it was a part of a big portfolio about ourselves.

By the time people reached “X,” Mr. Urick said many people choose “X-Ray” and say they’re transparent or something on the lines.  He understood that there aren’t many “X” adjectives in the english language—especially no a posteriori “x” adjectives—so it was okay if we weren’t creative for this letter.  However, I was determined to be against the grain and find something that worked.

I came across the word “xeromorphic.”  I’m sure all of you have heard of this word and use it in everday language, but for those who don’t, our lovely dictionary states:  “of or pertaining to structural adaptations of xerophytes that help them store water and withstand drought.”  To go deeper, xerophyte is a plant that adapts under hot conditions.

So there it was.  My answer.  Adaptable.  At times I wish I was more adaptable, and at times I wish I was less.  Right now is the time I wish I was less; less changing to my environment.  I landed back in America from my trip to the Philippines last Friday, and I feel like I’m already going back into the regular system.

But I don’t want it.

I don’t want to go back to the normal ways without retaining what I saw and felt over in the Philippines.  While I was only in the Philippines for nine days, I can definitely say I’ve gained a new appreciation for Filipinos.  I’ve been the Philippines twice before and I’ve heard many stories about my Dad and Mom’s experiences in the Islands, but it’s different walking where they walked and seeing the Philippines through more mautre eyes.

My days over in the Philippines were amazing.  Beautiful scenery, great family, lovely roaches… wait.  Scratch the last part.  Other than that one roach, the whole trip was amazing. 
Before leaving, I wasn’t all that stoked to leave America.  I knew it would be an experience, but I was a bit depressed that I wasn’t able to take summer school (yeah, I’m normal) and get ahead of my classes.

I’m glad my initial disappointed mindset didn’t stay with me throughout the trip.  I’m glad I went.   First of all, for family.  I don’t get to see my Lolo and Lola a lot.  Although I didn’t interact with them as much as I should have, it was great to see them in their own environment.  Also my cousins.  I usually just hang with them for a quarter of a day for some special event then head back to San Diego.  But after living with them for nine days, my love for them defintely grew.  Especially with Hayley, the youngest.  Usually, she’s either clung to her sister or watching TV.  However, since she was out of her regular environment, I was able to interact with her more.

Second, for culture—or rather, awareness.  There is a lot of history in the Philippines that I don’t think many of the Americanized Filipinos know about—but I’ll leave the details for another blog.  There is also a Filipino culture, but it’s buried underneath Spanish and American influence.  Where did my cousins want to go to?  Malls.  Ehh… that’s western and material.  Sure.  Philippines is known for having the biggest mall in Asia—second in the world.  But that isn’t culture.  So this trip definitely brought awareness to what’s in the Philippines and whats lacking in awareness.

Third, for lifestyle.  I think I may have the “xeromorphic” trait from the Filipinos.  These people are very adaptable—maybe a reason to the buried culture.  Through a western eye, people might see many of them as poor and pity them.  But from the Filipino standpoint, despite their economic state, they are still happy.  Their happiness isn’t particularly in things like many Westerners.  There’s a song by Freddie Aguilar, a famous Filipino musician, called “Buhay Nga Naman Ng Tao.”  I don’t know exactly what the song’s about, sadly, since I do not read or speak tagalog.  But from what I’ve been told, it’s the idea that life is hard, but life is good.  Adaptable, and I enjoy that.

Pictures are already up:
Day Two [Walkabout]
Day Three [Open Doors -- Mall of Asia]
Day Four [UP Manila]
Day Five [The Anniversary]
Day Seven [The Plantation]
Day Eight [Cebu]
Day Nine [Bohol]
Day Ten [Recede]
Epilogue [Return]
As of right now, these are just my pictures.  My Dad’s and my Brother’s pics will be up soon.

I will also have blog entries for an indepth summary of my trip in the Philippines.