“Destiny is no matter of chance. It is a matter of choice: It is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved.”               

-William Jennings Bryan (Three time presidential candidate and Secretary of State under President Woodrow Wilson)

I come home late from another party, and I see my mom waiting at the door.  She is happy that I came home safely and the fact that my grandmother also came home, from the airport, safely and is now fast asleep.  In addition, my mom showed pictures that my grandmother finally got her hands on from the home country.  It was pictures of my parents when they were young.  I saw a baby pic of my mom, and somehting in me was shaking. 

My mom was smiling as she marveled at how she once looked.  I looked at her intently, and I could see what she was thinking.  The younger version was wearing a little dress while she glared with a big eyes into the camera.  She had a frown on, but that’s due to the harsh light cameras used to have back in the 80’s.  But my mom was thinking “Is my life fulfilled?”, “Did I do what I wanted to do?”.  I could do nothing but smile.  The smile on her face reminded me of the way I looked everytime I saw a baby pic of me.  I wanted to make sure that my life was getting somewhere so I can look back at smile at how far I have come.  Her dreams, her goals, her life, her future, her strength were showing all over that baby picture.  In that picture, I saw something more.

I saw her life in us.  I saw her ambition in us.  I can’t fail her now.  I used to mess up my life, but everytime I see my parents smile, I try to keep that in my heart to work through the obstacles.  I work for that smile.  I need to see her happy for us.  I need her to smile for our past so she knows she is a good mother.  She is entitled to that much.

     

“Honest labor bears a lovely face”-Thomas Dekker (an Elizabethan dramatist and pamphleteer)

I was taking the subway in the late night, when I saw the subway construction workers pouring into the car.  At first, my headphones distracted me from their presence.  But as the music paused in between songs, I glanced at them all.  A weary bunch.  I looked down, so I can pay my sacrifice, of two ears, to my malfunctioning ipod.  But this time, another pause allowed me to have a longer look at them.  A look that made me ignore the cries, beats, and cacophonious screams of rock & roll that no longer had an effect on me. 

They were all tired, and they all slouched against the hard seats.  Some were sleeping, some were quiet, and some were looking up at the train schedule.  They wore dirty orange vests, and they carried multiple heavy flashlights tied all around their arms.  They slung camel hump-sized backpacks that could break any college student’s inexperienced back.  Some had rough beards, while others had crooked teeth, and many others had dark circles under their eyes.  Their bellies looked like they were going to flow from their belts, but were kindly restrained from their eagerness to go to a home, a family and kids.  I saw fatigue; I saw laughter; I saw an honest smile; I saw faithful meditation.   I watched the endurance of Man on this subway. I looked at myself, and was ashamed that I am not strong like them.  I wasn’t worried at the physical aspect, but more concerned about the mental strength to counter such a hazardous occupation.

I admired their courage.  Their courage to wear their helmet, and go forth into the darkness of metal worms screeching madly in tunnels.  I admired their dedication.  Wedding rings were bounded onto their fingers, making me see the appreciation of their hard work.  The appreciation of a family to come back to.  We, day-light dwellers, forget these type of people.  The type that comes home late, not due to partying but to the stressful nature of the mad subway. The type that complains, but pushes through without a grunt.  The type that will leave this car to go back to their beds, praying for a good night.  

My stop came.  I wished I had some big apple pie to share with these workers.  Apple pie is the best way to go for hungry people.  My music vindictively came back to control it’s inherent territory.  My ears were back to the music, but my mind was back on those good workers.  

 

“The manner in which one endures what must be endured is more important than the thing that must be endured. “
-Dean Gooderham Acheson(US Secretary of State under President Harry S. Truman)

Another day where I miss writing these blogs about my life.  The long gap resulted from a “relationship” that I had with this girl that I used to know when I was a teenager.  I met her on the subway and we reminisced about the world that we once knew.  Then days ended with us getting to like each other.  I would go into specifics of our so called affection but I prefer this story to be forgotten as soon as it is written.  It’s a venting process.

Summer love is something I take nonchalantly, and I didn’t mind taking it slow especially when this girl(let’s call her Mak) had an abusive relationship where she realized she didn’t want to talk to guys anymore.  But when she met, she just didn’t know if she could hold on to that creed.  We couldn’t be called a couple, because she needed some freedom.  She didn’t like public displays of affection, and she can be quite mercurial especially when things didn’t go her way.  I could tolerate thisbecause I wanted to see where this relationship went. 

But when the fall semester began, I sat down with her and respectfully told her that I understood that she is scared to start another relationship when the wounds of her previous one haven’t healed.  But I also warned her that I needed something solid to hold on, because I take my classes seriously; I don’t want to waste time in a bond where it is not needed.  I was happy that I had the gall to tell her the Lo-Down of how I feel. I gave her a week to think about it, but I never reminded her about it.

Four days later, I wanted to ask her if she wanted to go watch a movie, and then BAM!!! She decided to tell me what she thought of this relationship.  She told me I was a nice guy.  She told me any girl would be dead lucky to have me.  She told me her schedule is going to be crazy once her classes started.  She wanted us to be REALLY GOOD friends.  SHE SAID THIS ALL OVER  THE PHONE!!!!!!

I felt really insulted.  The respect I gave her when I took the time, face to face, to tell her how I feel is now down the drain compared to the indecency she gave me.  I wanted to yell at her on the spot, but I realize she didn’t want to give me the time.  So after she said all that, I told her I have to take the subway home.  This isn’t my frustration, but my last grief moment.

I thrust that arrow from my heart, and I keep walking.  There is not a moment where time keeps rolling on.  I must keep rolling on.  There is no tear for someone who doesn’t take time to see you for important things like that. I know it wasn’t a serious relationship, but as a person, I felt insulted that I wasn’t thought of more seriously. Oh well, time to go my way.  Phew, I am hanging up this blog.

“What we learn with pleasure we never forget” – Alfred Mercier

Usually buying  books at Barnes & Noble never is exciting. Holding my books and waiting on the long line was another part of this lovely process.. I scan all the cashiers thumping away all the books into green plastic bags, while the customers silently wait for their wallets and purses to vomit cash.  Suddenly I froze.  Thump. I have seen those eyes before.  Those deep black eyes that lead to another dimension where the old saying “window to the soul” may ring true.  Thump.

She was beautiful.  I stared for the minute second at one of the cashiers, but then I quickly glanced down at the tiled floor.  That second seemed forever, and I didn’t want to get caught.  I felt this way before.  Thump. A long time ago, I was young and naive.  Gorgeous black hair, deep black eyes, smooth skin, and a warm smile on her face.  My heart would always feel.  I never stopped smiling whenever I saw here, whenever I got close to her.  Thump. All those promises. Thump. I could never get enough of her. Thump. I was madly in love with her.  I told her that. Thump. She was everything to me.  Thump. I would do the most romantic thing everytime. Thump.I wrote love letters. Thump. I gave her flower. Thump. And went out to dinners. Thump.  I always wanted to listen to her. Thump. She Thump was Thump Beautiful Thump. Then she was gone.  I looked up from the tiles.  The cashier was gone too.  I was calm again.

A smile streaked across my face.  A stoic cashier voraciously took and scanned my books, but I didn’t mind the haste.  The smile didn’t want to fade.  i as happy for those memories.  I was happy that I was capable of  such kindness.  It sounds cheesy but I wouldn’t mind waiting for another girl that made me feel like that.

The stone-faced cashier looked up from ordering up my purchase.  I handed her my cash, and my books were handed to me.  A smile flashed on her face.  I smiled back.  “Thank you for shopping at Barnes & Noble”.

You don’t seem to realize that a poor person who is unhappy is in a better position than a rich person who is unhappy. Because the poor person has hope. He thinks money would help.
-Jean Kerr

I sincerely believe in hope.  It is something that wakes me up and hopefully puts me to sleep when I have seen the future become my past.  But now, I realize amidst all this hope is my will.  My will to live must be there in order for hope to ever live.  My ex is officially dating my closest friend, and that’s all I want to say about that.  I have moved on, not talked to her or my friend, and I have not made any contact with them whatsoever.  I don’t know if I am keeping it inside but all I know is that it has nothing to do with me since we broke up a year ago.

Now as I type this blog (which has been a while), and I wonder how long this pain has to go through me.  All day, I have to keep check of who I am so I can become stronger.  I want to thank that angel up there who decided to give me a second chance.  A second chance from all the troubles that I put myself through last year.  A second chance from all the tears that I sacrificed, the grades I dropped, the shame I became .  That Angel saved me, and I don’t know if metaphoric language is what I need to say, but I have to get back what I used to be.

I used to be such a focused person with people who depended on me, and I used to care about my future.  All that has to be reinstalled my life.  All that has to be returned to whence it came from.    It’s so painful to go through all this enduring all the loneliness, and trying to make a name for myself.  I am trying to make a rock band, leading the critcal role in a play, and I need to get myself back in shape, and yet.. I feel insatiable, like there’s a being in me who yearns more than just a normal life.  It wants the world to hear it’s pain, to hear it’s sacrificed tears, to hear it’s dropped grades, to hear it’s shame.  The hope of being heard again.

A smile is the light in your window that tells others that there is a caring, sharing person inside.
-Denis Waitley (key note lecturer, respected author, and productivity consultant)

It’s been a while since I wrote anything on the blog, but a good thing to start off with is the fact that I had a date with the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.  I don’t know what I felt on that date, but I couldn’t stop smiling.  Every second I kept seeing her face, I wanted to tell her “thank you” because I know I wanted to feel better with her, and she exceeded my expectations.

She had to babysit her cousin, and she brought him with her on the date.  When she did that, I realized she wanted to spend time with me, even if it meant bringing her cousin with me.  We explored the mall, and we did crazy things like stick a sign on the 12 year old cousin saying “I am single”. 

This blog is sincerely dedicated to this one girl, who really made this day so tearfully happy.  It’s been so long since I felt anything in me that was this close to crying. She’s cute, she’s funny, and she’s amazing at just “being there” for me.  She asks me questions, and she gives me answers, and honestly I just want to keep talking to her.  This blog is for me to remember, that one day even when she may have a boyfriend, that she is a great person.  She didn’t do nothing wrong except take the time out of her life to talk and chill with a person like me who she just sees once or twice a week. 

The subway ride home was so bone shaking, not due to the cold but to the fact that my entire body felt like it was opened.  Like someone realized that this person really was for me.  Again, this blog was for this girl.  And nothing else.

With a tale forsooth he cometh unto you, with a tale which holdeth children from play, and old men from the chimney corner.                                   

-Sir Philip Sidney (an English poet, courtier and soldier)

Recently, I was rumbling through my storage cabinets to find some extra binders I could use for school.  What started out as a clean up became a happy event in which the memories of my “teenage”-hood swept up to me.  In my binders, I found notes and stories and drawings that somehow entranced me to pick up a pen and paper.  Back then, I really loved writing anything fictional, separating me from the cruel world of high school

This story is about a galaxy far away where the aliens are against the humans and their allies.  But there is the fabled alien soldier, the Executioner, who must solve the mystery of the “Green” terror that the leader, the Oracle, keeps prophesysing about.

Chapter: Retaliation

The hall fell quite as the soft thuds of Executioner faded into the darkness.  The place was lit full of faintly luminated lights from above.  He walked with such grandness that the other Hostiles around him feared him as a statue.

A throne sat on the farthest side of the hallway.  it glowed a faintish blue and on it sat a decrepit gray beast.  it had a bulbous head but it’s body was a twig.  Fortunately, few could see through the black coat.  Executioner stood in front of Oracle.

“Oracle, my liege.  What may I do for you?” Executioner’s face was that of a scorpion but without the pincers.  He wore his fainted white shirt and pants and a plasma rifle at his holster.

Suddenly, as if he felt what he said, he sat straight up and opened.  In his eyes, there were no irises but veins reaching unknown circles.  “I have called upon you on this day because trouble is brewing!”

“I see it.  Green… green.  This has no context in our world.  But it has been irritating my visions.  I can feel screams and I can hear blood.  Something is happening.  Truly terrible.”

“Executioner, you have been my long time friend.  Countless battles and none lost.  You fight for no fame but for the good of our land.  And those sinful Humans have feared you.  You are the most powerful we have.” Suddenly, Oracle sat back in his decrepit postion, slouching against his luminous throne.  He turned away from the sight of Executioner.

“But this.  This Green monstrosity.  It is far greater than vision has ever burdened me” .  He started panting as if he was dying.  Then he tunred towards Executioner with a face of urgency and despair “You must find this! Take the Shadow! It must be that foolish Alliance that is responsible for this! Go!”

And with that, the hall started whispering and soft thuds of Executioner became giant stomps of haste.  His bear-like hands pressed hard against the center of the door, and it slid open.  Executioner left.

Back on his throne, the feeble monkey sat there, his hand groping his forehead.  Everyone left, and there he was-alone.  He suddenly sat up, and tired to smell something indescribable.  He opened his mouth to its fullest and muttered something . “Green.”

This story was inspired  by the video game “Halo”  where the Covenant aliens faced the technologically inferior humans.  This story was not so full depth but I like it’s uniqueness of trying to create a new environment.

COMMENT IF YOU CAN.. I LOVE CRITIQUES

I cannot tell how the truth may be; I say the tale as ’twas said to me.
-Sir Walter Scott ( a Scottish historical novelist and poet)

Recently, I was rumbling through my storage cabinets to find some extra binders I could use for school.  What started out as a clean up became a happy event in which the memories of my “teenage”-hood swept up to me.  In my binders, I found notes and stories and drawings that somehow entranced me to pick up a pen and paper.  Back then, I really loved writing anything fictional, separating me from the cruel world of high school

This story is about a man named Frank who has an uninvited guest sitting in his chair waiting for his arrival.  Unfortunately, I had no title for this unfinished story, but the least I could name it now is “The Fury”.  Unbeknownst to Frank, the guest knows a powerful secret that the world must never discover.  Here is one of my stories from my teenage life in high school.

Prologue

The hands started jittering the glass, while Frank looked at who he was listening to.  In his room, this man seemed to be overpowered by the darkness that surrounded him.  His lips quivered when words were echoed from it.

A feeble man.  Nothing. What does he want? Nothing…

But Frank was awed at the eloquence and might of what the speaker spoke.  He understood, but barely could comprehend it’s gravity.  The black shaded glasses the speaker wore were the only remnants of his past, but none he would utter, in a world he thought was forsaken.

A blind man.  Nothing.

Suddenly, the blind mand sat up straight in his chair.  Frank canceled his scrutiny of him and asked him what was the matter.  The blind man’s hands clenched up.  His nose started sniffling.  His head slowly moved side to side.  It’s as if he felt the darkness actually surround him.  Then he returned back to his frail position.

A crazy man. Nothing.

Daro, he was called, but Frank didn’t care.  The only thing Frank needed an answer was how he got into his house when the door was locked.  He has seen him around, and that’s why he didn’t kick Daro out.  And the other fact was that he was blind.

“Do you know why I came to you” asked Daro.

Frank sat in silence.  Daro knew.  “You have something that I have not seen in  many years.  I feel it everytime you walk past me… quickly.  My hands start shaking and teeth start shivering.”

Frank suddenly felt uncomfortable.  His agitation started blistering.  Sweat started groping his forehead.  daro must leave.  what doe he know about me? Frank thougth.  Unbeknownst to Frank, Daro knoew much that would make Earth tremble to bear this burden.

“I have never felt anything like it.  But when I try to feel the source, it was only transient.  What power!”

A crazy man. Nothing.

“That car crash was no accident”

Frank’s eyes gave a full glar.  His teeth grinded.  His eyes wouldn’t darke blink lest it gave himself a weaness.  He stood up and looked at Daro.  But that couldn’t pierce the blackness of the black glasses.

Frank finally muttered something. “Leave”.

As you can see this story has a quick pace to it, which I didn’t know my teenagerish past would have.  I remember that my inspiration to write this story was to create a hero that didn’t know his power, and didn’t want to know because he was still grieving over the loss of his wife and child to a car crash.  This blind man, Daro, realized that he could somehow “feel” his presence and he was scared of it’s aura.  It’s supposed to be the story of the human spirit and it’s power that springs from tragedy. 

COMMENT FOR TIPS OR ADVICE. I WOULD LOVE CRITIQUE

 

Heav’n has no rage, like love to hatred turn’d. Hell a fury, like a woman scorn’d. 

-Congreve

Guys, here is a word of advice about how to NOT talk to a girl.  Recently, I was talking to this girl who I was dating, and I was trying to talk about a serious topic (which fortunately I forgot).  And she having ” i really don’t care about that so i’ll insult you as being way too sensitive” attitude, starts telling that I worry too much.  And of course I (hopefully) laugh along with her, until I realized that I do way too much of it since I first met her in the library.  I realized this woman was very dominating, and she never really liked having a direct conversation.  She would either just talk about something else or gladly call me a joke.  All in all, I really took it as the last straw and told her what I think of her (a lot of expletives mixed with the words “you don’t take anything seriously” and “you are wayy too defensive, girl.. DAMN!!! I am not going to kill you!”

Now guys listen to me, even with all these things that I just said, this woman is a decent person but I was certainly under a lot of stress before I was talking to her; I realized I was out of line after I hung up the phone cancelling our dates and any other hangout mentioned.  A week passes by, and I really felt like clearing the air with her.  I texted her if she wanted to hang out because I may have sincerely missed her (I just didn’t want to lose someone as a friend).  She rejected my offer, and I said it was cool

I went to the library to study only to see her there gazing blindly into her laptop.  Unlike most guys, I was stupid enough to go say hi to her because I just wanted to get rid of the huge elephant, monkey, bulldozer and probably yeti in the room.  But all she could do after was just keep glazing and waiting for yours truly to disappear.  I tried making a conversation but she just wouldn’t budge.  Even if she’s a good person, it’s not helpful to make yourself look obviously strained at being quiet.  So I just left, realizing that she will never open up.  I went to another table and texted her “Hi” & “Bye” when I saw her leave.  Then an hour or so later, I got the text message saying  that she has no desire to be my friend. 

Take a lesson from me, if you have anything bad to say about a girl, JUST SHUT UP!!! and wait after a month of dating.  The problem was double sided.  I am not a patient and there in lies part of the problem.  Oh well, either way…if i still see her I am going to say HI and BYE over and over and over.. maybe not.. who knows?

Those who seek for much are left in want of much. Happy is he to whom God has given, with sparing hand, as much as is enough.                                          

-Horace ( a Roman poet)

The essence of satisfaction

Recently, I met a person who really gave me a run for my money.. she had that quality to bring out the best in me.  I met her on the line to the cashier to pay my bill, and it was such a big line because everyone was paying their tuition at the last minute.  Yours truly really was starting to get really bored from waiting on this line and seeing all these pretty girls just wait like me, and never got the chance to talk to. Oh well, trouble is the life we live.

But then, I heard a girl, behind me, talking to somebody about if this was the line to only print their tuition bill.  And I told her that the line she was on, was to print her bill AND pay it as well.  I told her the line next to her was the one that she needed to get on.  But she gave me a cautious look saying that there was a sign posted on the window stating that “Windows 1-4 print bills”.  What many people don’t know about my school is that it’s a very f**ked up school, and it’s just a saying.  Nothing to get serious about.. even the most simple things will take them forever to act on.  I promised her that that’s the place, because unknownst to everyone, I accidentally printed out from that booth when I realized I should’ve been on the line that I am on in order to pay my tuition.  They never took down that sign. Alas the true trouble we live in.

I even waited for her to get to the booth to print her bill, because if I was wrong, I rather be there and get the full blame from her if she shouts.  She steps up to the booth, and mutters if she could print out her bill. She almost glances at me, only to hear the teller ask her for her social security number.  BINGO!!!  And I won the game.  I asked her how it felt to trust a total stranger, and she just gave me a smile.

But what was really.. enjoying… was the fact that we were talking outside the financial office and I started appreciating her company.  It wasn’t because she was moderately pretty ( I have no sense in taste or in judgemnent of beauty.. trust me), but it was the fact that I was amazingly witty and somewhat entertaining.  She was new to the school, and she wanted to know how to get to the subway.  I even forgot the street to the subway , and I have been coming to the school for three years.  I realized I didn’t want to give an innocent person the wrong directions, so I offered my help if she didn’t mind me going to the library to get a textbook. And Ofcourse, she agreed.

I got to know her, and she got to know me in those minutes.  And honestly, I couldn’t even imagine that I had this kind of personality in me when I was talking to this person.  She was funny, and she always asked me questions, from major to arranged marriage (even I had a weird way with that question.. but I shrugged it off).  In those moments, I had an epiphany, or maybe a strange realization.  I am hilarious…I don’t know the words to explain it, but it’s that feeling when you know you don’t have to look behind your back for confirmation.  She gave me that security.  Or maybe I gave it to myself. I don’t know which one came first.

The way we just talked the whole way to the subway gave me a feeling that I never felt for a long time.  This comfort made me smile so much I thought I was going to keep talking without her even being there.  This is a homage to that person wherever you are for making me a happier person in that moment.  I will take what I learned from you, and forever use to fulfill my life.  I tried to get in touch via facebook but I guess I couldn’t find her.  I am just happy that I was so satisfied with this experience.  And I will not let it go in vain.