Habiliments - what are you wearing?

Habiliments: clothes characteristic of a particular occupation or profession. For example, the habiliments of a doctor, or a construction worker, or tennis player, or a teacher – except on casual Fridays. The habiliments would be switched into those of the common folk. But then what profession would the common folk have to have distinct habiliments? They would have the habiliments of life because life would be their occupation.

Yes, everyone’s main occupation is life. We have to work it and weave our way through it. Every once in a while or maybe all the time (for some or all), the weaving is done by divine substitution instead of our own handy work. They say you are what you eat, I say you live what you decide. Come to think of it, life is but a series of decisions, essentially. Once we let someone else take the wheel and make the decisions for us, we are not living our own lives, but theirs instead.

This is the perfect case with Dorian Gray in The Picture of Dorian Gray. The witty Lord Henry is too influential for Dorian Gray, to the point where his paradoxes seem simultaneously foolish and true (that is, if you can find the truth in them). I won’t give out what happens. All I can say is that it’s a good read should you decide to read it when or if you have a chance.

Take-home message: live your own life and individualize it with your decisions . . . or clothes.

We'll miss you, Michael Jackson

Michael Jackson died. There, I said the unbelievable, shocking truth. As many of you know by now, he died from a heart attack in Los Angeles, California. As my Mom was lying recumbent and sleeping on the sofa with the TV turned on in the den I was playing the guitar in my room during the commercials during King of Queens. I thought maybe King of Queens would be on but when I checked all I saw at the bottom of the screen were the words “Breaking News: Michael Jackson died, aged 50” and the face of a lady reporter repeating those words. I was shocked out of my mind. My Mom was sleeping and when I woke her up, she got up in time to hear the lady reporter repeat what she just said. She couldn’t believe it at all. She got the telephone and started dialing as fast as she could. Watching her, I remembered about my cell phone and who I wanted to contact. I texted the bad news to Ate Sherry, Kuya and Steph, waiting for a quick response. And a response I got. For the rest of the day, Michael Jackson rightly took the spotlight once more on TV.

I pay my truest respect to Michael Jackson and my heart goes out to his family, friends and fans. I feel I don’t know him enough to give you a stuffed obituary about him. And I don’t want to tell you what I looked up on wikipedia because anyone can do that. Instead, I’ll tell you my thoughts on him after watching an interview of him in the recent past. In the interview he was reacting to the name “Wako Jacko,” that ignorant people made up. He said how calling him that name was mean and that it hurt his feelings. I could definitely understand that. Any name-calling would turn off the light in anyone. The simple message Michael was getting at was that everyone has feelings and hurting those feelings – by any means – is just wrong. He seemed to me, to be a man who only innocent and natural thoughts, no matter what other people thought about him. To me, it seemed like people, particularly tabloid makers and paparazzi, just want to dirty everything for their selfish entertainment at the expense of the person they’re pursuing or prey on, rather. And I really hate that. In the interview, Michael was standing up to those kinds of people, saying that there should be a boundary, a line that the paparazzi and tabloid makers shouldn’t cross. That line was to protect the “star” and the star’s privacy. Some would say that it was inevitable that there would still be those kinds of mean people and that Michael should be prepared to fend them off. But Michael, having simple and innocent reactions and thoughts believes in a little something called world peace and that people should be kind and not invade or people’s privacy or hurt their feelings. Michael was a good man and his contributions in this world show nothing but love – love for people, music and the world.

Look Oliver, Ate Sherry's home!

Ate Sherry’s back home from Paris (it’s been a rather long week)!! While she and Ate Jay were off having the much-deserved time of their lives with beautiful sculptures and paintings, museums and crepes, I was at home, patiently waiting Ate Sherry’s return while taking care of Curious Oliver. Did Ollie and I grow closer? You bet! I learned how to manipulate her into going back in her cage and she showed me how crazy fast she can run around Ate Sherry’s room; how crazy fast she can twitch her nose and how crazy fast she can jump in the air and while still in the air, shift her body horizontally at a 60-75 degree angle at bird’s eye view, land, thump, then continue running at lightning speed. Not to mention, she has an awesome set of breaks too! I also saw a glimpse of her stretching/yawning pose, which looks like someone sleeping with his or her rump in the air, snoring with a wide opened and eyes squinting due to a nightmare. That or someone having constipation while sleeping. Can that happen? They'd be dreaming of constipation? I don’t know?! If only I can experiment . . .

Anyway, the take home message is Ate Sherry, because she’s home now.

The Purchases in Life

Have you ever bought something, or had someone buy you something, and then when you got, you felt like you shouldn’t have because you don’t think that it was worth it? With many of the things I own, that’s how I feel. At first I feel like I’ll never get used to it, but somehow, ever so subtly, it grows on me and then I find I can’t live without it. It doesn’t even have to be an actual something you or someone bought.

But I’ll tell you what, I can’t wait ‘til it grows the heck out on me.

Good-intentioned Rebel

As I waited for Steph to come out of her photo shoot in Gilly Hicks and as I was watching workers coming out of the Smith Haven Mall (in which Gilly Hicks operates), I started think about the kinds of people who work in stores like Gilly Hicks. I started think of it in a dirty light – one that’s surrounded by infectious, annoying flies and yellow-speckled, old mold from who knows where. Partially because they took away my Tiger from me for a much longer time than they said they would, in the photo shoot. In that nasty, naughty thought mentality, came the accurate insults against the Gilly Hicks and preppy, fake store workers of the world, or at least on Long Island. I felt an intense, almost stereotypical hatred of them as I thought that I can beat any of those workers in any physical competition – all of them, because they are all the same because they all work there. But not Steph. Steph is different because she grew up with me. No, Steph is a different breed in disguise. Are all these feelings a type of ethnocentrism or anti-socialism or egotism? Possibly. But that’s how I feel, and as Jason Mraz says, “feelings are no accident.” But I know in all honesty that people who work in these kinds of stores are probably nice people who just like clothes or needed a job and took one there. That or they got recruited, like Steph.

Switching subjects now. My goal for disciplining myself has turned into a war against my uglier self. I said I’d write in you as a whole new and better person the next time you see me. Truth is, I tried and I really did. No, that’s a lie. I allow myself three lies per day. I try to make them small. Don’t worry, I know when it’s appropriate and not appropriate to lie, don’t get me wrong. Why? Why do I let myself lie three times a day? Simply put, lying keeps my life fresh. And sometimes lies reveal things about myself – just like the one I just told previously, which by the way is the third one for today, so I have to keep clean until tomorrow. I didn’t really try to discipline myself but I like to say I did. But that’s cheating. Cheating! It tastes so good sometimes! But I am stronger than that. it's a mind over body kind of thing. But then it's life and how I want to live it. This is final, it's a compromise, a balance if you will, against evil and good, but the good is overarching because I'm the boss. It may not make sense to you but it makes all the sense to me. Try to interpret it your way. I'll see my end result when I come face to face with the man upstairs, at the end of this complicated yet worthwhile road.

In all purposes, I see myself as a good-intentioned rebel.

Summer Laziness is out to kill ya

You want to know something sad? I tell myself never to indulge too much and I still do. I don’t even bother to listen to myself sometimes. I don’t know. I’m weak that way. I was thinking this the other night, or morning rather, as I laid in bed after an hour of constant motion, delightful mind-wandering time. I knew for sure what time it was. I didn’t need to look at my watch to check. The brightening sky told me. I laid there and told myself to not do this again – staying up late and waking up late – because there are so many more things to do in the morning than at night. I really started off this summer on the wrong foot – the one that doesn’t know how to balance right nor when it’s time to place itself down firmly.

I say that I want to be an English teacher, but I’m not really motivated. I’m motivated by the superficial stuff about being a teacher – the paid vacations. Sure I like English (it's my favorite subject) and writing, but sometimes I’m just too damn lazy to do or participate in any of those things. Sometimes I just want to listen to music and watch anything funny and worthwhile. Sometimes I just want to play the guitar. To play songs that I already know so I don’t have to look up new chords. The piano! I used to love making new songs, and in the beginning, when I first got the new one (the $200 one) I was so excited, that songs just came to me rolling off the tips of my arms and down to my fingers. Now, I find that making songs on the piano is so difficult. I told myself that this summer was going to be the summer of song-making because I just took a music class. Now, I’m too lazy to even look back at my easy music text book, which was more of practice booklet anyway.

I’m telling you all this because, as a friend in whom I know I can confide, I want to be totally honest and open. “Openness is a boundless sky with a single bird left to fly. Nice and natural. Like how it should be.” – me. Now you know I’m weak for indulgence. I let it push me and slap me in the face. Last summer, I was so determined. I ran every day. This summer, I didn’t even begin running. Well, I did, but I was easy on myself. Also, consider my vocabulary out the window. The word of the day calendar isn’t helping, or rather I’m not letting it help me. I read the words every morning as I eat breakfast, but then I don’t use it during the day.

The bottom line is that I need to get my act together. But where do I get the motivation from? Even as I’m writing this, I know that I won’t get myself out of this whole.

. . . Not with this attitude! This is making me feel down in the dumps! I don’t like it. So, I’m gonna stand up against it. I’m going to do something about all this. I’m my own governor of my own city of a body and make everything work and happen.

And by the way, the motivation is from myself:
“I have found myself in the house of temptation – that of rebellious hebetude. What is stronger than I that can pull myself out of this devilish household and out into the streets of free control and discipline? Myself and no one nor nothing else! And I will succeed, yes?! And I will succeed, yes?! And I will succeed – YES!” – me.

“The Battle has won with all these things that I’ve done.” – The Killers.

The next time you hear from me, I'll be a better person, I promise.

Farewell Speakers

I used to have this set of speakers. They were old, but boy did they get the job done. The sound came out of both speakers – sometimes. And the sound, oh man, the sound wasn’t the best in the world; it was a bit staticky during the high notes of any musician that laid there voice through them. But I didn’t mind any of these set backs. I was just happy that I could play music through them. They were two speakers attached to each other through a forking wire that lead to a rather big nub that would attach to my ipod shuffle rightly named, Tiny Onion or Tiny for short.

From that little piece of technology traveled electrical musical messages. Out they came, blaring sometimes, through both or one of the speakers and into the air that filled my comfort space – like majestic colors on plain but peaceful, bedroomy canvas.

And then one day, the speakers, the magic makers or comfort fillers, disappeared into the secrets of the home. That is to say, they got lost somewhere in the house. No use in pointing the finger at anyone for loosing it, for we all lost it by not knowing where it went nor how, when and why it went from knowledge’s face.

All I can say is that, that day was a most sad and music-less day for me. I did have a stereo. But I was already used to the radio with all its modern features – its optional bass, repeat, radio, cd and cassette player feats can only amaze me so much. I missed the dysfunctional speaker and the anticipation of static high notes.

Months have passed and I still don’t know where those speakers are. But I have accepted this loss, however trivial this may seem to some.

Literary Movie Review: A walk through Revolutionary Road

I sadly say that I did not read the book, chiefly because I never knew there was such a book. But now that I know about it, I’d like to get my hands on it. It seems interesting and the fact that it has a historic ambiance – that being the 1950s era – draws me closer to it. I like learning about the history of the United States, including the cultural context of it.

First off – the title. The title, in addition to meaning the actual road that the author, Richard Yates is connected with, symbolizes the marriage of Frank and April Wheeler. The word revolutionary derives from the term revolution as well as revolt. Therefore, in this sense, the Wheeler’s marriage may be seen as a form of revolt against the comformities of life in the 1950s, despite their outward camouflage with other suburban people in their neighborhood. The Wheeler’s feel special and somewhat above and therefore singled out from other suburban folks – and the other neighbors feel this as well and confront it with friendly acceptance such as that given by the Cambells. It is depicted palpably in the film: Mrs. Helen-Givings makes sure the audience knows how special the Wheelers are by always complementing them and saying explicitly how they stand out from the rest of the neighbors, as one of the best couples. However, under this seemingly bright cloud lies a thunderstorm. The Wheeler’s outward appearance belies their hidden and exacerbating problems – that of trying to live out the life they always wanted instead of the life given in to conformity. However, this disguise does not last long, as the deterioration of their marriage becomes too strong for either of them to handle.

A major theme in this novel - or for me, this film, - is the feeling of being trapped and conflicted. Frank wants to continue with his mundane job because it provides for the family, but he still wants to figure out what he wants to do with his life and turn that into a worthwhile reality. All the while, he is loosing all sense of identity. April obviously feels like there is more to life than just providing for the family and living and therefore, submitting to society’s expectations and comformities. She feels as though life is there to be lived and loved and yet, doing that is surprisingly difficult for the both of them. According to her, courage is needed to live the life you have always wanted. Frank, I would say is the weaker of the two. He is less chance-taking but still, being internally conflicted provides him with a second half that shouts for him to jump on board with April.

All these conflicts scratch every wall and every corner of their marriage until it bleeds to death. No pun intended if one sees this as April’s attempted and failed unfortunate abortion.

Life, slow down a bit, will ya?

It feels as though June is just flying by. It’s already almost half way over.

Anyway, I just finished watching Revolutionary Road. As many of you may know, it was nominated a plethora of times in the Oscars – unfortunately I must say close but no cigar, although Kate Winslet did get the award for best actress, I think. I don’t have time right now to write my opinion about it. I want to go running tomorrow morning and still be out of the house by 11 am; that means I gotta wake up earlier than usual – that is if it doesn’t rain in the morning. Actually, I did run once in the rain, or down pour rather. But that will be another story for another time.

Time, it’s coming and going so fast! I wish life was a stop watch so we can stop and start whenver (except on the toilet). That or I’d like life to have the slow motion effect they have on TV and movies sometimes. Wouldn’t it be cool if we could control the pace at which our life moves? That’d be awesome. If only (fist in the air).

The reason I’m going to leave the house by 11 is because Mommy is going to the doctors to have her knee checked. She wants surgery done on it because the pain in her knee worsened after the healing mass. We agreed that the intensified pain was a calling from God and Jesus to tell her to have surgery. Maria is right. God works his way in different means and gradually sometimes. He never doesn’t help. So thanks again from me and Mommy down here!

1:36 am.

A Powerful Healing

I don’t think I told you about the healing mass I attended last Sunday. Father Fernando Suarez came to the lady of Shrine (I think that’s what it’s called) to lead the mass. He’s known for healing people, through spiritual means. It’s interesting. He acquires huge crowds who all want and more importantly, need, to be healed of any ailments they may have, be it physical, mental, emotional, spiritual. Anything that needs fixing, he’s the man to see. His powerful touch releases the holy spirit into the person he touches and that person usually falls to the floor, unconscious. I forgot what that’s called but it’s supposed to really peaceful. My parents both have already attended a healing mass once in their life and this was my first. I was so nervous; I didn’t know if it would work on me or not. I was told that I was supposed close my eyes and have what needs to be healed, in my mind. Then Father Fernando would touch or let God’s grace fall upon me. Some people would fall because of this powerful touch and some wouldn’t. Did I mention how I was so nervous? My dad fell unconscious and my mom just fell and cried. That’s why there were catchers there – to catch those who fall unconscious. My dad was one of them. At first I was a little scared seeing all these people fall to the floor. I got used to it by the time I saw the 20th person fall (that was probably a whole row of people). These other kids younger than I were talking to an assisting priest and said that they were scared (I can’t blame them). He told them in an encouraging tone to be relaxed and very open to God. By the time Father Fernando put his hand over me, I quickly remembered to think of what needed to be healed in my life and I closed my eyes. I tried to be open, I really did. As it turned out, I was one of the few who didn’t fall. I felt like nothing happened. But – oh how there’s a but! – Maria, a lady whom I, my mom, Tita Lenny (member of the Santo Nino prayer group), Tita Virgie (another member of the same group) befriended while we sat together, trying to sell Trail mix, apples and water (unfortunately unsuccessfully though) near the parking lot to those attending the healing mass, told me (after I asked her if she felt like she was healed) that God works in different ways for different people. To her, the touch of God’s grace and the Holy Spirit in her is not as powerful as in other people, but God still finds a way to heal her. She told me that that may be the case with me – a most gradual case, that is.

So what did I want to be healed? Well, as soon as the assistant priest said that we have to think of something specific that needed healing, I knew I was in trouble. I did not have any physical problems at all, I felt. In fact, I told my mom that I felt perfectly fine. I regretted saying that out loud to her instead of in a whisper because then I thought I may have jinxed myself. However, I did have a desire, a very personal desire that I wish not to indulge. Other than that, the only thing that came to my mind was my family. So I wished for the health of my family.

And how is it going so far? It worked! At least partially, so far! Kuya joined a boxing gym to get back in shape and my mom is considering knee surgery. She had knee pains for about four years running now. As for my dad, well he’s playing tennis more to get fit and Ate Sherry’s running has increased (although that may be due to her more free time). I did not find an opportunity yet for my personal desire to get fixed, but I can wait. Thank you God, Jesus, Mary and Father Fernando, I highly appreciate it!

What’s cool about this is that I didn’t even tell my family about what I had in mind during the healing service.

Salespeople of the world

I like to say that I’m different, and I think that most other people say that about themselves too. Being different means being unique in this sense. All my siblings have worked in department stores as their first jobs: Sears, Guess, New York and Company, American Eagle, and Gilly Hicks. I’m not a clothes person, to say the least. In fact I don’t really like shopping for clothes, unless I need them, in which case I would consider my time shopping to be a quest. Needless to say, I would not like my first job to be at a department (clothes) store, though I can see why others would like working there. You may like retail and clothes and style and the whole atmosphere there, as well as any discounts to cool clothes. Totally understandable. I’m just saying, that ain’t my thang. I’d want my first job to be in a place that is of interest to me. And that place would be the planetarium.

I’ve had an interest in astronomy ever since I was introduced to the solar system in the third grade. When I was 9 I taped glow-in-the-dark stars and comets on the ceiling of my room and I read the children’s version of Encyclopedia Britannica for the solar system about a hundred times when I was 10. More recently, I took an Intro to Astronomy course as well as a Life in the Universe course in Stony Brook with not too shabby grades. Not to mention, I also want an astronomy poster in my room (Ate Sherry was supposed to get it for my kris kringle present this Christmas but she never did); I need to get rid of some obsolete posters I still have dusting around on the walls of my room. Astronomy has always been somewhat near me through the years.

Therefore, the planetarium is the perfect place for me. I could either be a show presenter, box office person or other that I don’t know yet. I still have not built up the courage to call them – after four days already. Don’t you shame on me! This is my first job, I’m allowed to be nervous at first. I will remedy my courage problem by going to the planetarium in person and asking about their hiring status. I hope I get a job; I do have a fairly confident background in astronomy and I like to believe I’m friendly. Either that or I’m broken.

Speaking of getting jobs, whether that’d be a new one or a first one, the whole ambience of job searching gets me thinking of how we as social human beings, are. Today I told Kuya about my wanting to work in the planetarium and he suggested that I make a resume (I totally forgot about those self-advertisements). The idea of resumes and interviews reminds me of how we have a habit of trying to sell ourselves. Our skills I mean. This is all for the effort of making money – money that will be used for our personal reasons. I’m not saying that that’s a bad thing. It’s a healthful system because it shows yourself and your employer (if you get employed) all the good things about yourself (if you’re not lying), or at least the pertinent skills you carry around. But still, I’m saying, once a salesperson, always a salesperson – and we are all salespeople, proud or desperate.

Lake Placid vacation

Back to my trip to Lake Placid. We arrived at our hotel, Wildwood Inn at around 4:30 pm. Just a little side note, Wildwood Inn is a comfy hotel with an indoor heated pool and spa, as well as a backyard view of Lake Placid and complementary canoes to canoe there. This hotel may not have been the flashy kind like common ones such as the Mariott, but it’s homey. They provided hot chocolate, tea, cider and coffee as well as apples, granola bars and muffins. Sufficient for a brisk morning breakfast. Back to vacation. As soon as we got into our hotel room, I turned on the television and searched immediately for ESPN2. I knew Serena would be playing against Kuznetsova and I had to watch if my lioness of a tennis player was aiming at victory. But no, Kuznetsova was beating her. Needless to say, I was worried and distressed. Despite Serena’s loss, I was proud of her for making it this far in the French Open. She hadn’t gone this far since she won it back in 2002. So, still good job Serna! After I watched the match, I was too dishearted to swim in the pool. So was Steph. Instead, we went around the Olympic village, looking for a place to eat dinner. We found that the whole place was cold and pretty much empty. We were wondering if it was just because it was late already or if it’s always empty. The restaurant owners of the restaurant we went to (which was a chinese one – it was the only one still open) said that there aren’t many people there in that time of year because it’s not even summer yet. Touche. We had better luck on Thursday.

The weather on Thursday was much better. It was warmer and sunnier. Thank goodness! This was the day we did many activities. We started out early, eating what the hotel offered (which I mentioned earlier) for breakfast. The first activity was the unbelievable, indelible private plane ride. For 25 bucks, we got a 20 minute tour of the mountains surrounding Lake Placid, as well as other lakes, in the air. The seats were close together of course but that made it all the more comfy – at least to me. I don’t know about people who are claustrophobic. We had these headphones that also served as a communication device. Sort of like a walkie talkie head phone. We could hear each other talk and prevent the loud, annoying sound of the plane from getting into our heads too much, simultaneously. I have to admit, the turbulent moments of the rides were pretty exciting, as opposed to scary. I had no doubt in my mind that we would crash and fall. I guess it was because my excitement blocked my knowledge of known fears. Honestly, I totally forgot about falling and any crash landings. That only made the ride more fascinating. It was just my parents, Steph and I and the pilot in the plane between the sylvan mountain tops and innocuous clouds. Sigh and a reverie. Next, we went on a chair lift to the ski jump that Olympic athletes used. The chair lift was steeper than I thought! I sat with Steph while Daddy sat with Mommy. Let me rephrase that: while Daddy attempted to sit with Mommy. Unfortunately, the first attempt was unsuccessful because Mommy had a hard time getting on the chair while it was moving. I looked behind to see how my parents were doing and sadly I found Daddy on the one behind us and Mommy on the one behind him. Mommy had a hot orange string tied to her chair. I’ll you do the math as to what that means. I sort of felt bad for other people on the lift because they stopped the whole chair life system to get Mommy on. It was all in good fun though. When we reached the top, we were looking down at a steep hill full of grass. But to get to the very top, we had to take an elevator ride, a quite interesting one I would say. The man in charge of the elevator had told us that the reason we were seeing so many bikers – the motorcycle ones – was because they have a convention this time round. No wonder! I must have seen like hundreds of them total in just this one mini vacation. Anyway, after the chair lift, we went to subway for lunch and ate it near the gazebo at the edge of the lake in the back of our hotel. That was followed by the inevitable canoe ride that was awaiting us in front of the gazebo. As humans, we are mechanisms made to improve. With that said, we learned our lesson from a previous vacation, in which we brought a camcorder on the canoe. My parents had it and they tipped over. We got a kicker out of that one. Unfortunately, my dad’s wallet didn’t find it funny. We had to buy a new one. So this time, we didn’t bring it with us. We just brought our cheaper cameras and took pictures of each other. Canoeing is awesome. It’s so peaceful and simple. And the lake was placid, hence the name. We had the mountains in the background also. I loved it. We did not tip over! We next had to buy souvenirs for our folks back home. Shopping in the Olympic village was so fun – what with the various stores, my two top favorites of which were Fortunes of Times and Imagination Station – who could not enjoy it. Oh yeah, Steph was interviewed for the NBC broadcast to be aired on Saturday at 7pm, so tune it and share her moment! She just talked about Lake Placid as a vacation resort. An hour or so of shopping got us hungry, so we got our grub on at this Howard Johnson restaurant right next to our hotel. The food entailed various kinds of steaks, soups (clam chowder!) as well as baked bread, mashed potato and yogurt that you can customize with granola bits and raisins. Yummy for my tummy! Back at the hotel, we hit the pool pretty hard. We did quite a few laps, but not in a row. We swam for about an hour then took quick showers before we hit the hay.

Friday morning was even better than Thursday morning. And if you know me, you know that me likes the warm weather. Alexandria Bay and Thousand Island were on the agenda that day and you can say that we put on check mark for both of them. They kind of reminded me of the Olympic village actually because there were so many shops. The thousand Island were cute looking in the water. I counted two thousand and three of them though. Just kidding . . . or am I? We treated ourselves to a ferry ride to visit Boldt Castle. It’s more of a magnificent mansion than a castle, a mansion made of stone that is. The main history of it is that this hotel entrepreneur was able to become so rich that he made a castle for him and his family and it has since become a tourist attraction. With the sights of the day well received and finished, we had dinner and entertainment. As we were heading back to the hotel, we saw on the side of the road, a diner place that served food outside on picnic tables. It was awesome and so country like. We had live entertainment in the form of a band playing old blues songs as well as Beatles songs. We had ribs with tasty BBQ sauce, juicy, sweet corn and coldslaw. We got home and were pretty much too tired to do anything, other than lie down, close our eyes and fall asleep. At least, that’s how I felt.

Saturday morning. With the knowledge that we would be going home that evening, we knew we had to make the best out of that day. We decided to drive to the summit of White Face Mountain, elevation: ~4,800 feet. We parked our car in the parking area and then had to climb up to the real summit. Mommy stayed in the car, the right decision for her condition, because what we had to climb was harder than I thought there’d be. The steps to the summit were boulders with a railing. Yeah, there were some steps, but only in the really steep and rocky areas. The summit though was amazing. I felt so small compared to the panoramic view I got from up there. We saw tree tops on mountain tops and rivers crossing rivers. It was breath-taking, both figuratively and literally (it was mad windy and cold!).

We got home in Commack at around 8 pm and we had dinner. Then Daddy surprised me with a little tennis at a lighted tennis court. My mini vacation was complete.

I feel like I want to write more, but I don’t have much to write right now. I just know that I think for my blog, I’m going to condense my vacation, or should I? I already have it done here. This is becoming a burden! Why do I do this to myself?! What the heck!! This is not the turn I wanted to take. I got to sleep now before I kill myself through writing again. By killing I mean making something fun and relaxing turn into a burden, an unwanted onus on my back.

1:53 am

Itching to blog

6/8/09

“In Buddhism, they say attachment to anything only leads to suffering. So when we laugh, it's our way of saying, 'I'm unattached to that.' You're tickled by it, it makes your lobes do something on their own. So humor is very important to me. I always take that to the stage first. It originally appeared (in the stage patter) between the songs. Then as the shows got a little longer and my experience in music developed, I found it was just as effective to put the humor into the songs.” – Jason Mraz

“I've had 6-7 roommates since I've lived here. I never charge rent; the only thing you have to do is contribute creatively. Right now, we have a few a really good organic chef and a crazy clown rapper. I'd like to be remembered for my generosity, in hopes that it inspired other people to be generous. What good is anything, if you're not going to share? What are you going to do with it?” – Jason Mraz

I feel like I want to write about so many things, but I can’t write them all at the same time. For example, I want to respond to what Jason said in the two passages I have pasted here, but I also want to continue writing about my summer mini-vacation (not to mention what Daddy told me about – unity in families and the relationship between parents and children). What should I do first? I think I definitely want to do what I feel like doing, and that is responding to what Jason said.

Pertaining to quote #1: I know they say that attachment to anything only leads to suffering, but then the next question is, is that attachment worth it in the end? I think of attachment as in being close to your family. If being close to your family will only lead to suffering (as in when they die), does that mean that you should alienate yourself from your family so as to avoid suffering? I don’t think so. There are some things worth suffering. Your job is to choose which are worth it and which are not. Obviously, for me, material things are not worth it, and for others that is probably the case too. Being close to my family and having a united family is worth the suffering in the end when we leave each other. Laughing is a way of saying I’m unattached to that. Let’s see. How can I make sense of that? I don’t see how that is, but to me, laughter is a medicine, as Jason says. It’s a remedy. Just like chorus class. How so? My friend Jen and I had chorus class at the end of the day – 9th period. We’d tell each other how we had had a rough day and then we go to chorus class to just escape it all – and it was easy. There’s music, learning and laughter. What else do you need? We’d walk in with a bad attitude, acquired frustratingly from a teacher of an earlier class and leave the chorus room in all smiles and a tune on our tongue.

Pertaining to quote #2: How would I like to be remembered? Jason wants to be remembered for generosity. Well, seeing as I want to be a teacher, generosity fits in that category like a glove. I’d be generous by sharing knowledge, a very powerful tool to have handy. But what else would I like to be remembered as? I guess I’d like to be remembered for my creativity in expressions and ability to teach others important values. In a way I guess, I’d like to be remembered for trying my best at contributing to humanity (I explained humanity earlier, in one of my other journal entries). I want to do this through music and literature and possibly film and of course through teaching directly in schools. How would I fit tennis into this? I guess through tennis, I can inspire people to play sports and be active – good for the body, mind and soul, which is the gist of people and the human condition, which is what humanity is. In essence, this can be achieved through generosity, which Jason wants to be remembered for. So, my answer is his answer, but in a different light. I gots to share what I got, and I gots plenty! So now I ask myself this question: who am I writing this for? How am I sharing my writing? I’m not although I invite people to read it. But who would actually go on my laptop, and open this document to read what I have to share? I’ve got a 0.1% chance. Steph and Ate Sherry can read it and possibly Kuya. But no one else. Take-home message: I’m itching to write a blog on the internet.

So I guess these two passages have blown up my mind and revealed some revealing revelations. I’m thankful that I’ve copied and pasted them here – thankful for the instinctive need to post them here and for the ultimate gratifying and eye-opening end result. Perhaps this journal will be printed out some day, and published. Who knows? I don’t, fo sho.

Lake Placid, tennis, then Lake Placid

6/6/09
Lake Placid was awesome, my hair was not – but who cares! The whole mini vacation was great, but I don’t have time right now to do it justice in description. Catch you later, where the real fun will begin, I promise.
12:13 am, good night!

6/7/09
Hey there. I just finished watching Federer win the French Open for the first time. He had been trying to win it for some time now, but Nadal was always there to stop him. This time though, the man who beat Nadal earlier, faced him on that finals court. “De ja vu or Soderling who?” said one commentator, appropriately. That’s right. Robin Soderling of Sweden somehow beat Nadal in the first week of the French Open. Then again, Nadal had an off-day that day. But how do you explain Soderling’s continued success in the Open? Perhaps it was the up surged energy and self-belief he gained at the electrifying shock of beating Nadal, which then drove him forward into the second week and ultimately into the final. Yes, perhaps. Still, Federer proved to be no match for Soderling at the championship match. As Soderling puts it, Federer gave him, “a lesson on how to play tennis,” today. And it wasn’t Federer’s seemingly incapable (at least against Federer) opponent alone that helped Federer win the trophy. Federer showed inherent prowess on the clay court that shouted he was destined to win it some time along the line. That and destiny allowed him to finally kiss the trophy.

I know I said I’d talk about Lake Placid today, or tonight rather, but I thought I’d have more time than I do right now and I still want to do it justice. I probably will have to write an outline of all the things we did – that’s how fun it was. Or maybe I can write it today. “Call today . . . call now.” (Sears commercial)

We started our Wednesday morning pretty early. I believe we left the house at around 7:30 am or earlier, actually. It felt surreal because of the whole atmosphere of the morning. First of all, I hadn’t woken up that early since school ended back in mid May. Secondly, it was kind of chilly and Ate Sherry was awake to see us leave. She was fun too, just her being there. Her presence made everything friendlier. I don’t know. I wrote her a note, asking her to feed Gibralter. It went a little something like this:
Dear Ate Sherry,
Good morning! Can you do me a favor? Can you or someone feed Gibralter a pinch of fishie food on Thursday, Friday and Saturday? I already fed him/her today, Wednesday. Thanks, I highly appreciate it!
Love, Bern
I’LL MISS YOU!!
She read it and laughed as she ate leftover dumplings for breakfast. I wanted some, but I was too sleepy to ask. Speaking of sleepy, when I instinctively retreated into my usual back seat of the mini van, I dozed right off - I was down and out. Like I said, I didn’t usually wake up that early for the past couple of weeks before that day. So from about 8 to 10:45 in the morning I was lying recumbent in the back seat dreaming the miles away. I woke up to the sound of bugles being crunched in Steph’s mouth as she was working on Ate Sherry’s friendship bracelet. I was still sleepy though. The sun was beautiful as we crossed a bride – I don’t remember which one – over tranquil water. I forced my eyes to stay open so I wouldn’t miss it, but as soon as we hit solid land and the sun was flashing in and out of passing trees, I closed my eyes and let Steph’s crunch lead me into another dream.

I honestly can’t remember right now, on the top of my head, what happened on the first day there, besides an eerie barren town that’s hard to forget. So I will have to garner some information tomorrow and relay that info imaginatively to you, tomorrow night.

With that said, good night! 1:02 am

Lake Placid on my mind

6/2/09
Groin rashes suck!! I believe I’ve developed a groin rash when I was my playing tennis and running in humid weather. That or because my inner thighs, particularly the gorin, kept rubbing against each other. It hurts! It stings whenever I put on or take off my underwear. But it doesn’t really sting when I walk. It does sting, however when I go up the stairs. I think it’s only a small rash due to friction, though. But still, it hurts because it’s so close to my . . . right at the junction!

Anyway, setting that aside, tonight is the night right before our mini vacation. That’s right. Steph and I, Mommy and Daddy are going to go to Lake Placid for the next three days – Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday (going home on Saturday). It is the perfect place for the adventure-minded, harboring and showcasing natural scenery in which activities wait to be experienced. We will have the chance to go on a canoe and go hiking. When or if we have over indulged in the beautiful view nature has provided for us, we can take a break from it by swimming in the heated indoor pool and spa. “This is the life,” as Ate Sherry would say in a funny accent.
So, I’m excited for that and you know what else I’m excited for? The two movies that we have just watched. Yes, we will bring them with us on vacation so we can watch them there. Speaking of the movies, if I am correct, I’ve yet to review Changeling. Shall I?

Changeling was a most intriguing movie, with a simple plot: a mother looses her son and the Los Angeles police, claiming to have found him, give her a different boy who is not her son – they only aim at making their police department look trustful and successful in the eyes of the public. The mother meanwhile just wants the police to do it job and find her son, instead of wasting time trying to convince her that the fake boy is her son. I felt that Angelina Jolie had wonderful acting prowess in most of the scenes. Speaking with a literary tone now, I was just about furious with how women back then were treated, as depicted by the film. Men everywhere in the film, particularly the doctor at the “psycho ward,” and Jones, the main chief of the LAPD, were treating women as if they were weak and as if their only true job in life is being a mother or being motherly in general. If women deviated from that “norm,” they were punished. I hated that. And as for thinking women were weak, they thought they could easily persuade, convince them of beliefs they want the women to believe, not necessarily the true story that ought to be believed. Again, I hated that. I’d hate to live in that time period in that place. Good thing times have changed, because I think if I were placed in that era in LA, I’d have anger management problems. Shifting gears a bit, I think that the fact that this film was based on a true story, makes the film scarier and even more real. The realer anything is, the scarier it is. For real. As I said to Kuya on gmail, the movie reminded me sort of, of my forensics days when I had to study the profiles of some serial killers. When I was taking forensics and we were doing the unit on serial killers, I had a hard time studying because I was too scared. Did you ever have a hard time studying because you were scared of the subject to be studied? I never thought I’d have encounter that problem. Good thing, like most other things I study, I forget them after the test or at least after the summer vacation following it. David Cook would agree with me (I’m referencing this morning when he said that on MTV).

Well, I have to go to sleep now. The next time I’ll be able to talk to you is after vacation. I’ll tell you all about it. Right now, I gots to sleep because we’re going to wake up and leave the house extra early.
Good night and I’ll see you on Saturday!!

tennis and two movies

6/1/09

June has finally come around! My morning run was, at first a breeze. As I hit almost midway, I started to not believe that I did this almost everyday of the summer last summer. I don’t know. I just wasn’t used to it yet. Plus, I couldn’t use handy dandy Tiny because it had low battery and I didn’t want to use it up; I knew I had to save some for the road to Lake Placid. The whole day was spent watching the French Open. Unfortunately, Nadal lost against Soderling, Roddick lost against Monfils and Federer made it out alive, against Tommy Haas. Serena is getting better as the Open is moving closer to its finals. Jankovic also got out by . . . by, I don’t remember. Also, Djokovic got out by someone too. So many upsets!! Who knows who’ll win the Open. Hopefully Federer! Anyway, the reason why I’ve been remiss in my watching tennis and why I had to catch up today, was because I recently spent my tennis watching time, watching two awesome movies, instead.

The first one was Taken, directed by Pierre Morel and starring Liam Neeson. First off, love it! Here’s my take on it. The movie got me thinking about the real world that everyone says youngsters transition into when they become adults. Just now, I started thinking about Holden from Catcher in the Rye and why I easily relate to him, his thoughts and the actions done because of his thoughts. Like Holden, I am a supporter of innocence and the preservation of that innocence. I also support the idea of fearing the adult world. In fact, the novel holds a very real manifestation that does in fact take place, even in Taken, and that is prostitution. It’s such an ugly, dirty act that is so self-debasing. I HATE IT. How could anyone resort to that or do that willingly?! But then, also in the movie is the pure prseveration of innocence. The virgin daughter who never (fortunately) got around to being violated and the smooth, quick thinking and skilled father whose well-thought out actions got him to his goal. Such counterparts, juxtaposed in the same movie created the tangible fight between good and bad. And by the end of the movie, the clear winner was the reuniting of father and daughter. The good always wins! Of course, this was not a KO in the first round. I’d think it took all 12 rounds to arrive at that relieving apex. And it was worth it. Man, I love the father’s cleverness. Awe man, Ate Jay and Ate Sherry are supposed to go to Paris! I hope they don’t go through the same experiences as the two girls in the movie did! I know they won’t though; they’re smart.

The second movie, Changeling coincidentally marinates in a very similar theme to Taken: the reuniting of parent and child. However, I will save this review for tomorrow night.

With that said, good night! 2:15 am.

Gutar Hero and then some

5/30/09

Guitar Hero rocks!! Too bad the drums weren’t working 100%, though. Still had a blast! YEAH!

2:50 am -ish.

5/31/09

So, yeah, I had a blast last night in Ate Jay T’s house, playing Guitar Hero. I never thought I’d like it, but I did and still do. I couldn’t write about it last night, obviously because it was too late. Speaking of Ate Jay T; I heard throughn the implicit grape vine that she prefers or is used to her name being Jay not Jay T. But I’ll still use the T for old time sake. We arrived in Tito Al’s house for his birthday party (50^th) at around 6:20pm, about one hour late. I was expecting a pool party with Jarien and Kelsie screaming and running around or playing in the pool and Tita Leah talking away with Tita Sol laughing in a high pitch voice. Instead I found myself greeting unfamiliar, yet welcoming faces – both young and old. I didn’t mind that. It’s not my party anyhow. I just knew that we needed to kick it up a notch. Steph and I stayed together sitting on plastic chairs, eating Filipino spaghetti, cantaloupe juice, mango, lumpia and puto. The cake was good, as usual – ice cream cake! Tita Lanette kept pressuring me and Steph to finish the cake before it melts, but we were too full. We were chit chatting away in the setting sun’s direction until the sun decided to go to bed for the day and it got too cold to sit still without fidgeting for warmth. I asked Jaila to sit next to me so we can catch up on what we’ve been doing when the perfect question suddenly popped into her head: Wanna play Guitar Hero? That was the start of an awesome night.

I was nervous at first because I wanted to do the drums. But we soon found out that one of the main parts of the drums wasn’t working. I felt so bad! If I was in their shoes, I would feel a little bit embarrassed and let down that that failed on me at the most inopportune time! But eventually, we brushed that away and continued to play – I mostly on the guitar at easy level and Jaila singing. If only she could reach them high notes! I don’t mind. It’s kind of cute, actually because she’s not ashamed; she just “sang” the whole night through. That’s what I like about her. Steph didn’t participate much and I think it was because she was just disinterested or tired or too shy. I gave it a try and soon enough Jaila and I had gigs and were making money. Not much, of course. The funner parts were when Ate Jay (I’m loosing the T) joined us as her break from studying. At one point, she wanted to sing and do the guitar at the same time, so I held the microphone for her. I offered to kneel over her shoulder to see if holding the microphone there was easier for her. But it wasn’t. We got through the song after a couple of tries. Then Jaila had to take a shower, so Ate Jay kept playing the guitar while I sang to Sweet Home Alabama. I sang average, I would say, but we kept having to do the song over and over again because Ate Jay kept failing. I didn’t mind that at all. I felt like I was liking the experience of bonding with her, and I was! I don’t talk to her much so it’s nice to catch up – even if that means singing a song 12 times in a row (about, probably more, but it’s all worth it in the end).

We got home at around 2:30 in the morning, but I was still in Guitar Hero mode – which included my passionate desire to impress other people, particularly the one I have a thing for. I was still pumped and ready to rock the night away, in more ways other than Guitar Hero. But I had to sleep and so I did that at around 3:45 in the morning. Part of the interim between 2:30 and 3:45 was spent trying to get Oliver (Ate Sherry's pet bunny) to go in her cage again (Steph had let her out). For the lengthy rest of that interim, well let’s just say I laid in bed for a while before I got around to sleeping . . .

2:45 am

Blogging #2

I know I said I'd start posting up my journal entries, but I should let you in on some identification information. Here are some important people in my life, in relation to me:

Immediate family:
Steph (aka Tiger, Tep or Stephanie (rare)) - younger sister and best friend
Ate Sherry (the ate, pronounced ah-teh, in Tagalog, a dialect of filipino language, means older sister or cousin or close friend, who's a girl) - older sister
Kuya (aka Kuya Eric) - older brother (the kuya in Tagalog means older brother or cousin or close friend (who's a guy)
Daddy and Mommy - my parents, obviously

Some cousins:
Andrew - same age as I am and also attends Stony Brook Universiy with me and my sisters.
Ate Jay T - cousin on my mom's side (same age as my older sister (22)
Jeremi - Ate Jay T's younger brother (about 13 years old)
Jaila - Ate Jay T's younger sister (about 10 years old)
Ate Marisol and Ate Marilou - the first lives in Queens and has three young children, Jarien and Kelsie and Kaeden. The second lives in California with two young ones herself - I don't remember write now, but maybe down the line, I'll write about them
Ate Ila, Kuya Ryan and Kuya Paul - cousins on my mom's side

Some aunts (Tita) and uncles (Tito):
Tita Leah - mom of Ate Marisol and Ate Marilou
Tito Monte and Tita Edna - parents of Andrew
Tito Den and Tita Tessie - parents of Ate Ila, Kuya Ryan and Kuya Paul
Tito James and Tita Lanette - parents of Ate Jay T, Jeremi and Jaila
Tito Albert and Tita Celia - the second is the older sister of my dad
Tita Sol - younger sister of my mom
Tito Al - uncle of Ate Jay T

I can't think of anyone else right now. So, I hope this helps!

Blogging

I've never written a blog on the internet before. This is the first! I've written in a journal on word document on my laptop, but then an important question came to mind: Who am I writing for? I know I'm writing for myself, but I wanted to share it with others. Therefore, I knew a journal - which would lock out other people - was not the way to go. That's where blogging came in. I wish I could catch everyone up with what I have been writing in my journal, which is not too personal. I guess I can copy and paste them here. There are some journal entries that I love, I'll post them here. How about I'll start with an entry I wrote, not too long ago. Yeah, I'll do that. Hopefully you can catch up pretty quickly if you're interested. I'll post my journal entries, up to the one I wrote for today. That means it'll look like I blogged like four or five times today, but it'll be because of the journal entries.

Other than technical business, setting up this blog and what not, all I have to say is that I'm excited that I have started this and I hope that this will either be an escape from the hectic life, a life lesson or just a much needed good time.

Catch you all later!