exposed randomly

i was riding the subway today and saw a toddler in a stroller. she had to have been about three years old. she was adorable, holding a bag of knock-off doritos in her left hand and a small, pink care-bear barely hanging our of her right hand. she offered me her chips. i offered her my carrying case. and for a moment, we just exhanged gestures until we both laughed about it. and then that was that.

a few minutes later though, out of no where, she started laughing. and i mean, really laughing. she was flinging her arms in the air and bouncing up and down in her seat. it was out of no where. it was random. she was bursting with this sudden joy that was directed at no one and nothing. it was much different that the laughter she just displayed with me, laughter that was actually a response to something. no, this was something of an explosion of glee. and it didn't stop until she and her mother left the train a minute later. i envied it.

i envied it because i had seen it before. with my baby nephew, with the kids at church, and even now and then with my students. it's like a hidden source of bliss that is tapped at will, or exposed randomly. one that seemingly deteriorates with time, and is never fully realized until it's gone, and you see it again in the face of a child on a subway years later.

but where does it go?

so often now, we try to create and manipulate our sources of bliss and happiness. and out of such attempts, we manage to find ourselves in the mist of chaos and insanity, confusion and doubt, regret and fear. and sometimes, even pleasure.

just be like like that of a child.

we create Mardi Gras and Freaknics and ignorant Billy Ocean Beach Birthday parties. we overexaggerate New Years and Halloween and any other day of mild significance. we get credit cards, catalogs, shopping networks, and keep the receipts. we decieve boyfriends, objectivify girlfriends, and take advantage of those closest to us. we dwell in substance abuse, illegal drugs, alcohol, and sex. we find an addiction and take security in it as it provides us with the strength we need to call ourselves weak.

and yes, i say "we".

we want the thrill. we want the excitement. we want the intimacy. we want the escape. but most of all, we want the happiness. we want the happiness back. where it used to be. back where it can sprout up randomly throughout the day and be with us at night. we want our bliss back. our joy. if only because it's not where it used to be, if only it's not where it should be. if only we want it because it's not with us. we long for it. and we tend search it out, not in the places that we would probably look, but rather in the places that are most accesible to us.

i can only assume that that internal bliss is out there. or maybe still in me. the only evidence that i have of it is the smile of a child, for no apparent reason. smiling because they don't feel like frowning. i dunno, maybe we just forget. or lack the motivation. or maybe we just haven't thought about it, allowing the notion of being happy to take the back seat to the concept being successful - fooling ourselves to believe that they are one in the same. but thats another blog.

for now, i will leave, and be open to the emotion that comes up in myself, rather than searching for it elsewhere. besides, where else could it possibly be, but in me?

drunken memo

(i started writing this right after the party last weekend, and then fell asleep at the laptop).

so right now, right this second, i'm typing on my computer with my bedroom door open to make sure that some sort of date rape doesn't take place in our apartment.

and granted, that might be a stretch. but not as much of a strectch as one may think.

let me start from the beginning.

my roommates and i planned for a party this weekend and needed an excuse to throw it. so we looked on wikipedia and found out whose birthday it was. so we found out that billy ocean's birthday was on the 20th and...

you know what, fuck this! no really, fuck it. let me say what i need to say. hosting parties is not what one may think it is. it is not the thing to just damn do. at all. this shit is hard. HARD. and i was throwing it with two other guys. and we promoted it to the point that it was a real good turnout. we had the lighting down-packed. we had the great playlists, and happened to score a dj coming through the party that just happened to have his own mix cd. the food was fine. the drinks were great. i mean, we had a pool! we had a fucking pool! a little baby kiddie pool with nothing but ice and water in it to hold all the drinks and liquor. we even had a palm tree. and four speakers to create the surround sound. and we got all that in one day.

after preparing for it though, i didn't think i would have to maintain it. it got to the point whre i had to literally throw people out, like i was a bouncer or some shit. people were making out...on my bed! my roommate's 20 gig ipod got stolen! and some pervert was feeling up a couple as they were making out on the rooftop!! i don't even know how that happened!!! people were trying to walk in off the streets. strangers were trying to get in because they claimed to live in the building. some did. some didn't. i didn't care. the entire night was geare

(and thats about where i stopped, i'll continue right now, a week from the party, able to look back on it in 20/20 hindsight...)

i was a little upset then, and i was trying to look out for some of the people spending the night, as there were some prowlers we had to seperate from the lambs (another story). but it's all good now. people are forgiven. i understand how parties get, and it's not like they were screwing on my bed, they just got caught up in the moment - they apologized, it's in the past. we started a relief fund for my roommate's ipod. we actually have about $120 now and growing. leave a comment if you would like to contribute. we identified the pervert, now named "the sketchy guy" - we just stay away from him at all cost. and we made peace with a few of the cats walking in off the street, let a few of them into the party and see them all the time now.

things don't always end up good. but sometimes they do pan out. the next morning, we counted our blessings and cleaned up. many people thanked us for a great party via emails and phone calls and said they look forward to the next (whenever the hell that is). so all and all, my roommates and i have a story to tell. another experience in our growing history as friends.

so, happy birthday Billy Ocean, and may you have many, many more.

have a nice day.

estar

she's an angel...i don't care if you can't see her wings...

i was asked a few months ago if i liked the new pharell single. and i do. i had to listen to it 13 times, but i really, really, like it.

DING DONG!

ok, a real blog will be here later. i've been busy. i've learned his week that progress is a slow, difficult process, like falling in love. failure is quick and easy, like a middle-age hooker with one eye. and so i shouldn't be discouraged when change doesn' happen overnight. i shouldn't be frustrated when my efforts don't pay off the next day. the best i can do is what i can. to take my losses as they come, as long as i meet them with some success. and at the end of the day, that's all that really matters, what you did, not what you didn't do. and if you didn't do anything because you were too bummed out about what you did wrong - then thats all you have, what you didn't do and what you did wrong.

and who wants to sleep on that??

long story short, effort takes practice, just like everything else. perfection is relative. and progress is long journey that has to be made by foot. you can take the subway to failure.

sigh. even when i say that i'm not going to leave a "for real" blog, one skeets out anyway. oh well. see you later.



blogs to come:
"they think i'm gay"
"it hurts so good - my asian massage experence"
"the billy ocean beach birthday party '06"

mimi

on my way to my grandmother's funeral this week, i sat on an airplane with things on my heart to say. my hope was to have the opportunity to speak at the wake, or at the recession or something. but it was too much to organize in my head. so i wrote it.

when i landed, i walked in the door, greeted everyone, and found my dad preparing the program for the funeral. i asked for a moment of his time and then handed him what i had written, and after reading it, it placed me on the funeral program right then and there. being much more than i expected, i took the assignment and delivered the following words:

When we were younger, my brother, my sister and I would spend a lot of time at Mimi and Papa’s house. After some time, Mimi and Papa’s house became a refuge for us. It was a place where I could I could be glued to the TV, Love could play with her pink doll house, and where…where Frank could burn things.

And every Saturday – each and every Saturday – Mimi would take it upon herself to make cheese eggs, jelly toast, and Oscar Myer bacon. Now, at that time in my life, I could sleep a Saturday on until noon – 1’oclock, and so you would think that all of this food would be gone by time I woke up. But…even after Papa had eaten, Love and Frank had eaten, guests and family had come over to the house, and they had eaten; even after all of that – I would walk upstairs and find a plate on the stove, under a paper towel, where Mimi had saved my food.

And that became a thing after a while. Sometimes Papa ate cereal and Frank and Love fixed something else – but I would always wake up and find that one plate on the stove under a paper towel. Cheese eggs, jelly toast, and Oscar Myer bacon. I tried to refuse it once and she almost started crying. “You mean, you don’t want it baby?” And so I HAD to eat. Even when she got a little older and it started coming out burnt – “no Mimi, no, no, I’ll eat it…” And so I ate that burnt bacon and that crunchy toast. That was our moment...

I bring this story up – because my grandmother was a woman of overwhelming dedication and meticulous routine. She was a woman of procedure and order. A woman that took pride in everything she did, in the most humble manner possible. She was the type of woman you could say “always” for. She would always smell good. She would always pinch you for acting up in church. She would always show respect to others. She would always stand by her husband. She would always support her family. She would always wear high heel shoes that were bad for her feet. She would always have candy in her little church pouch. And at 1’oclock pm, she would always have the television on Days of Our Lives – “like sand through the hour glass, so are the days, of our lives!”

So, you have to forgive me, if you don’t see me mourning. For over the past few years I saw a woman that was driven by commitment and dedication, whither into little girl bound by the limitations time inevitably brings. You have to forgive me, if you don’t see me sad. For recently, I have seen the essence of beauty fade behind the curtains of tired eyes. You’ll have to forgive me today for my lack of grief, my shortage of sympathy, my absence of bitterness, my void of sorrow, my deficiency of confusion, my scarcity of anger, my deprivation of frustration – Forgive Me – But last week my grandmother was struggling to breath and this week she’s with God!!

And she never missed a beat. Never lost her spirit.

She is no longer limited. No longer told what she can’t do, what she can’t eat, where she can’t go, how she can’t live. No longer is she bound to the restrictions of this world, but free in another!

Free from hurt! Free from pain! Free from the suffering! Free from being lovesick! Free to smile when her children smile and cry when her children cry - all her children! Now she can shine when the sun shines and bring warmth to each of our hearts.

Bound no more, she can stand by her husband. She can support her family. How can I be upset when I know that she’s with me now more than she ever was before; with us now when before she couldn’t be. How can I be sad, when I know she’s free.
Cheese eggs, jelly toast, and Oscar Myer bacon, is the only meal I know how to cook.

I thank God for the time she was here. And in death, giving her everything she ever wanted in life. She’s at peace.

Thank you to all of you that have shown your support over the past week. And thanks to Corey, Nikita, Jimmy, and Franklin that even suggested that I put this tribute on the blog. She is indeed, at peace.

courage and boxing

today, as i was leaving church, i had the urge for chicken and waffles. and on such a nice day, i figured there was absolutely no problem in walking from 125th st. to 116th st. so thats what i did...only to be faced with a life-altering decision two blocks later.

on august 10th 2005, i wrote my third blog on this site, "author's note". in it, i tell a former professor of mine about my recent life changes, and the changes wsh to come over the coming months. and on a sidenote here, of those changes i wanted to happen later, none of them have. yet, the good note is that, of the changes that i have wanted to have happen over the coming months, none of them have changed. they have remained very present and feasible goals over the last few months and at the very least, i have made progress two of the four. the four goals were to join a boxing class, learn the guitar, coach a youth sports team, and learn how to write grants. the last two are still on the drawing board. i did enough research on the youth team to know that it's not going to happen anytime soon (although i do help out with the school's boy's basketball team when i can). and the grant writing just hasn't been touched at all. but i have done extesive research on the boxing and the guitar. i have found the gym that offer boxing classes and have priced them accordingly, and i was about to buy a guitar last week, but opted to learn more about what i need as a beginner first. so, really, it's not that my goals haven't been met, they are just still in progress. after today though, one is definately in progress more than the other.

walking down the street from church today, i had only gone s far as 123rd street when i saw a man running towards me about a block away. behind him, a little woman, maybe in her 40's, was trying to catch up with him, screaming, "my phone! my phone! that's my phone!! someone stop him!" and as i was walking, it dawned on me that i could very easily get in this man's way. trip him up or something. confront him about her phone and make him give it back. but by the time i realized that, he was running right past me. but then, i noticed that he wasn't really running that fast. either he was just out of shape, or had been running for a while. my guess is the latter. i mean, this was a pretty big guy. tall, relatively muscular. but in noticing his speed, i knew i could catch him. i knew i could run behind him, jump on his back, bring him down, and hopefully have enough people there to help subdue him.

so i turned around.

i headed for him. and around this time, i'm thinking to myself all of the possiblethings that could go wrong. what if no one helps? what if this guy tries to fight me first? what if this is a personal issue that i know nothing about? this could be his girlfriend. or some type of petty domestc dispute. or the matrix, in which he had to steal the cell phone in order to call in to the operator to escape agents. it could be anything. and then i thought...shit, if i had been in that boxing class for a while, i wouldn't need anyone elses help.

you see, from the boxing class, i expect to learn how to take a punch, how to bring a signficant punch, and how to put some more muscle and meat on my skinny body. without any of this knowledge, i'd just be throwing random, half-powerful punches. and with no rage or anger behind it, i might as well be tapping him on the shoulder.

as i got to the end of the block, close enough to see where a quick dart could land me on his back, i asked myself, "is this ladies phone worth my inevitable ass-whipping?"

now that i think about it, even if i had been in that boxing class all this time, would i have put t to use in this situation. hell, had i been a boxer for years, was her cell phone worth his ass-whipping? and my very possible jail time for assult (provided that it was some quirky lovers quarrel).

after i made my walk to the chicken and waffles place (a meal i never got - another story though), i thought about my decisoin to walk away. this time, i don't have too much regret. but what of next time? when a woman is getting raped in an alley i walk past. or when a guy tries to prove something in the next club i'm in. and not to say that a boxing class is the "end all, be all" of the situation, but it's the effort that will count in the end. it just may be the motivatin i need to stick with a workout plan.

for right now though, i'm just glad to see that i am not just creating 5-minute goals up here, which i have a tendency to do. over the years i've claimed to pursue photography, film, stand-up comedy, fire-fighting, street-hustling, condom-selling, private stripper party organizing, halmart card writing, yoga, cooking, foot modeling, dj-ing, traveling the world, and ferret breeding. and sadly, some of those had more progress made than others. i won't disclose which ones.

as for the lady, she wasn't hurt and hopefully she had insurance for her phone.

as for me, i should be boxing and playing the guitar by the end of spring. hold me to it.

as for society, we should all make more of an effort to eliminate the social constraints of the day, through unity, balance, and love. buy only from authorized dealers and stay off the phone in central harlem.

saturday morning

so maybe i'm stupid.

it's saturday afternoon, and i haven't done a damn thing other than ensure my continued funnel trip into an eternal state of confusion and disarray. around 11am, i woke up with plans to go to work and be productive. around 1pm, still laying in the bed, surfing the internet and watching tv, i subconsciously decided to be extra productive at work on monday and to spend my now doing some things around the house. it was then i decided that i'll go do my laundry, get a haircut, shop for some new furniture and organize my room. didn't happen. it's now 4pm and my feet are cold from walking around on the hardwood floor. i haven't shaven. i haven't showered. i've simply existed for the last 5 hours on what seems to be, from looking out the window, a nice day outside.

my roommate is singing something in german next door. he seems to be in a good mood.

i suppose i could be in a good mood had i done something productive, or if i do something producitve. like buy groceries, or write lesson plans. on second thought, i'm not in a bad mood. i'm just, in limbo. and i suppose i've been in limbo for the last few weeks now that i think about it. no overwhelmingly happy or sad or angry or content. i've just been "emotionally hangin". i've had no motivation to do anything producitve or counter-productive. and in a sense, some would say that doing nothing is counter productive , especially if being productive is something relatively time-sensitive. i don't have the motivation to support either argument.

and so i sit. and think. which i suppose could be something healthy for me to be doing. so often i'm just going, going, going, going. and when i'm not going, i'm tired, wanting to sleep, or stressing about where i should be going. i dunno. i wouldn't have the motivation to write this blog if it wasn't sitting at my fingertips.

often, on here, i want to talk about momo. a while ago we decided to bring an end to our relationship and try to save our friendship. and everytime i bring myself to write about it, i don't. i come up with something else to write about, or some other topic to explore (like the one with the news headlines about 4 blogs back). and i have chosen not to do so, because of the respect for her and our relationship as friends, because of the fragile nature that these types of situations tend to develope, and because of the expression i was never able to appropriately communicate. but people need to commmunicate. and the hardest type of thing to communicate is that which holds significance in ones life. more astuondingly, the most interesting thing for people to appercieve is that which is significant to another, if not themselves. i tried to devalue the situation between momo and myself in order to turn away from the apparent reality that i had lost her, as mutual of an agreement as it was. i tried to stomach it, as i tend to do so many things of significance, and act as though i was not affected. as though i was the same. not that i ignored my feelings, or was uncognizant of the situation. but, i diluted the fact that i am now alone.

and hindsight, this is the first time i've been alone in a long time. i know it, she knows it, and a number of other people know it and unianimously agree, that i should be for a while. for the sole reason being that i haven't been alone. so much of what i've done over the last few years, has been for the sake and purpose of someone else. places i've been. things that i've seen. movies, plays, music, gifts, books, food, trips, clothes, experiences, time, energy, money, faith, ideas, and that which cannot be captured by word, picture, or sound. that which can only be felt. only be lived. only be glimpsed by soul. i've only done it for others. so that i could share it with those. that, which i have wanted for myself, i have wanted to have with those. with Her.

and now there is no Her. that which has almost always been my motivation is not there. for the Her that has been my reason for doing so much of what i have ever done, there is nothing. no one to take into consideration. no one to take into mind. no one to consider. and it's new. i'm hesistant and apprehensive to embark on it, and even somewhat afraid. i write about this now because i am beginning to realize the reality of it. it started over holiday break and has continued now that i am back in my new home - i do not feel the desire to fill the void. at first i thought it was because i had the flu. but no, i don't want anyone right now. it's as much a choice as it is a circumstance. and that's a hard pill to swallow. no poetics, no linguistic backflips or cartwheels. as naked and basic as i can speak to myself, i am alone.

and now it's 4:50pm and my feet are still cold.
have a nice day.

man on the side

"i feel in love, with a dream that i built of you, playing the part of the queen..." - john mayer

i'm listening to this song now, for the 20th time, and i realize that moving on is something i have trouble with. i mean, i don't have any problems growing, nor do i have a problem with change. but it seems as though that, however much i grow, however much things change, i hang on to the things that do, or once did, mean so much to me. especially people.

and that becomes increasingly difficult when it seems as though the very thing you can't let go of, has been able to let go of you.

i build up these images and expectations of people, and situations, and work toward them, not expecting them to have their own agendas. and by that, i mean that i work towards things that i think are stationary, when they aren't. my family, my friends, my signficant other, at ay point and time in my life, they are all moving along life just as i am. and i can't hold on to them as is, because they aren't "as is". they aren't stationary or immobile. they aren't waiting for me to call, or to return, or to knock on the door. they just aren't. and somewhere in the back of my head, i thought they would be. but the truth of the matter is that just as i grow, and just as i change...so do they.

and what of those that expect me to be there always? through their change and growth. how can i stay there for them if they have moved on without me? how can i stay on the plate as i side dish when i was once the entree?

so often, we place a selfish light on being the entree in someones life. but is that so wrong? is it careless and self-centered to want to be someone's everything just as they are everything to you? if we put 100% into our job, is it wrong to want to leave fulfilled at the end of the day, with a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction? if we put 100% into a trade or skill, is it wrong to expect to one day be great?

at the end of the day, what do we want?
consistency? love? acknowledgement? warmth?

for some, it's freedom. the chance to move on without their past. the chance to grow beyond the parameter of previous limitations. the opportunity to experience life beyond the plate, beyond the entree, to move on. in hindsight, it's remarkable how long we can hold on to people and not even know it. and it's even more remarkable when we finally realize that we want to let go, and don't know how. in either case, there is solace in the fact that at some point, one day, it'll have to end. right?

"i feel in love, with a dream that i built of you, playing the part of the queen...taking my own advice, i'm giving up tonight, good luck to you and the king..." - same person, same song.