EDM

is good grinding music, if you catch my drift.

NOTE TO SELF: Stop looking for it. It will find you.

♥

worn souls

You probably can't read the print on these books, but this is a picture of a book-spinner (for lack of a better term) that I saw in the souvenir shop @ SFMOMA. Each one of these books is a city guide for many of the world's most magnificent hot spots - Delhi, Tokyo, Chicago, Madrid, Vegas, Palma, Milan, Buenos Aires, Valencia, Beijing, and everywhere in between. Oh, how I would love to have the opportunity to travel the world one day, taking in the sights, enjoying a cup of coffee as the locals pass by or trying out the nightlife, waking up the next morning in a hotel suite overlooking the scenes of everyday life in a world unknown to me. Sometimes, I'd just like to get away, and be by myself; not literally, but more like "away from the people that I know". Who knows what kind of interesting characters I'll meet on my travels? The wonders that I will see...and of course, no trip would be complete without sampling the finest delicacies the city has to offer. Food is life, am I right?


It's the little things that I happen to run into that keep me motivated.

You see, the problem with me is that I keep my head in the past. Too often I am gazing back upon one incident or another, recalling all of the memories and emotions that these situations once held, and often times wracking my brain in an attempt to figure out how to recreate these moments of wonder. One of these days, I will have to wake up and realize that no matter what ingenious plan I come up with or how much I tell myself it can happen, nothing is ever going to bring back these opportunities that I let slip by. I can, however, go out there and put myself in a position to embrace new challenges and create even more chances for whatever it is that I desire most at the time, whether it be love, lust, or just a chance to stand on top of the world - I can build on these past experiences, basically. The more you do something, the better you become at it. Right?


Hey look, it's about to be a brand-new day.

"Lights get low, and that's when I have my brightest ideas."

How'd a pile of kush become a mountain of truth? How'd a bottle of wine become the fountain of youth? Just lie to my ears; tell me you feel the same, that's all I've been dyin' to hear.

Paradise.

Well, what a weekend it has been. Let's recap. I was in the middle of my daily elliptical run on Thursday (because Thursday night is the start of the weekend when you're a college student) when Randy texted me asking if I wanted to grab some Cluck's before the game. After finishing my routine and taking a hasty shower of about...four and a half minutes, I threw on my sole pair of jeans along with the nearest Packers shirt I could find and rushed out the door to pick him up. We headed to Costco since I was running low on gas, and then promptly took tenth street all the way downtown, where we circled third and fourth street a couple of times, on the prowl for a parking spot. I hate parking downtown, but oh well; it gave me a chance to practice parallel parking.

We were running late. I wanted to get our food and get back home before the game started, but unfortunately getting gas and finding parking took longer than expected. Luckily, they had the game on inside, and there were plenty of Packers fans, surprisingly. I felt right at home after hearing the uproar of cheers as Mr. Rodgers lasered in yet another perfect pass to Jennings in the endzone. I swear, though, I'm never going to the downtown Cluck's again. It's just too much of hassle to find and pay for parking, not to mention that it was much more cramped than I was expecting and they took forever to finish our order. Definitely going to be sticking to my beloved Cupertino location.

After our food came out, we sped home and ran indoors. My dad and his friends all had their eyes glued to their TV, and as I walked into the living room, I saw a piece of paper with a grid drawn on it along with an assortment of numbers and letters, and a couple of $20 bills on the table. It's unusual to see my parents gambling, but I guess they're loosening up and enjoying life a little more now that my mom is retired and our bills are becoming less of an issue. David arrived shortly after we got home, and that's pretty much what we did: watch football, pig out, and knock down a couple of beers. The good life, right?

Speaking of beer, I'm both pleasantly surprised as well as a little worried with how laid back my parents have become lately. Last month, I threw a going-away get-together for my friend Jess, who was leaving for San Diego. My parents didn't say anything about all the alcohol that we came up with. In fact, my dad even played some beer pong with us, and lately, he's been asking me if I want a beer or two. Sometimes I take him up on his offer, and other times I tell him no, and opt for a glass of water or some Arizona instead. While I like the fact that I can drink with my dad now, sometimes I worry that my parents aren't being hard enough on me. It's been a crazy couple of months; between all the going out, coming home in the middle of the night, partying, clubbing, drinking, and all of the other "young and stupid" things that I've been doing, such as planking on fountains, sometimes I feel as if I get off the hook with a lot of stuff, maybe even too much.

Then again, my parents are getting older, and so am I. Maybe they've finally realized that I'm not a child anymore, and that I can go out and have a good time while still being a responsible adult. And maybe these thoughts of "I have it easy" are really just reflective of me being too hard on myself. Come to think of it, I've been a stiff for pretty much all my life; I've never been the type to go out and do something crazy and reckless. I was always the goody-two-shoes, playing it safe, rather than sorry. Maybe now is the time to get myself out there and start living a bit...within my own limits, of course. As much as I may want my parents to crack down on me a little more, maybe its good that they're letting me roam free; after all, nobody truly knows my limits except for me. Nobody knows what I am and am not capable of except for me, and only after I've given it my all. It's just a part of growing up.

But all in all, its been a chill couple of weeks. I watched the game earlier with my dad and my uncle. We devoured a large pizza from Round Table and knocked down a few beers between the three of us. Other than football, my past couple of days have been filled with cars; I washed Anna's car for her yesterday as well as my dad's car, and then helped my dad wax and shine his car earlier tonight. There's no better sight to see than an exquisitely clean car that you yourself have personally worked on. Even if its not my own car, I just love working on a car and being able to look at the finished product and say to myself, "Wow, I did that...and its amazing."

To tell the truth, though, I didn't help my dad all that much; I only buffed out one layer of wax for him. In comparison, I gave his car the whole treatment the other year: wash, clean, clay-barred, waxed, shined, the works; I spent about 10 hours working on his car, back in 2009 - the day after Kababayan Fest, actually - working on it all by myself, in the blistering July heat, and while it was tiring, I was handsomely rewarded with a $50 bill and an ice-cold can of Budweiser. I don't know why I didn't help my dad out this year. I offered to help, but he refused, and I had to literally grab a towel from him and just start working on the car anyway in order for him to let me help out. I think he's at that point in his life where he wants to do these types of things by himself, for himself, just so that he knows that he's still got it in him. And part of me wants to let him do these things so that he can feel young again...yet still, another part of me cries, no, weeps softly at the thought of my dad growing older, getting ready for retirement, knowing that all he wants is to feel young again.

It's this duality that haunts me on a daily basis. I know my parents just want to feel young and "free" again; that's why they have these karaoke parties every night, complete with their own live band and all, and why they go to Santana Row to hang out on the weekends and go on spontaneous trips to the beach. Should I feel bad for leaving them, wanting to do my own thing? I'm young, too...and I have plans, big plans. Yet there's a sharp pain in my heart every time I have to tell my mom not to cook dinner because I'm going out tonight, or that I'll be home late tonight and that she shouldn't wait up for me. Honestly, I can't wait until Thanksgiving, because then we'll have the whole family together again. At least, I hope so; I don't even know if my brother is going to come home. He's in Japan right now. My parents don't know this. I didn't even know this, I had to find out via Facebook. At least he's having a good time, though.

I feel as if things are moving way too fast for my liking, and I'm just caught in the current, unable to escape it so I swim along with it, not knowing where it'll lead me. Is it time for something new already? I told myself that I was done with relationships after all that's happened recently. Honestly, who knows. Every relationship that I've ever been in felt like I was running a race, yet I didn't even know where the finish line was. I was just running for the thrill of it, hoping to see some glimmer of a finish up ahead. Now, I just want to slow it down. I want someone who will just lay there with me, not even doing anything if either of us don't feel like it. Just someone who'll be there. We can forget it all the next morning; for now, just be there. That's it.

How long have I been typing this post? I feel as if its been too long. Until the next time-

bringing your favorite flowers, sit up and talk for hours just to hear you laugh

I don't think this will ever get old.

Fuck, can I just have a normal relationship for once? Is that too much to ask?

sleepeasy.

Just a little something to take off the edge. It's been a rough weekend.

Almost two years now. It's funny how much has changed...and how some things never change.

Trust Issues.

Look at this monster you made; now I'm the one that has to kill it.

for the thrill of it

And not two minutes after clicking "publish post", my mind begins to scramble, frantically searching for something to counter my previous entry, a little something to balance out this young-and-fast lifestyle that I've been living; for as fun as its been, there are times when a man has to know his limits. There are problems that alcohol cannot wash away, cuts and scars that even the strongest herbs cannot heal. I may appear to be a little strung out on compliments; to that, I'd say that a little confidence never hurts. We party hard, there's no denying that; but what better way to acknowledge your accomplishments than by drinking to them? And I may hit the club every now and then - but rest assured, one night of fun only goes so far. This ride isn't over, but nor will it last forever. One day we'll be doing 95 in the coupe cruising down these empty streets, and the next day I'll be cruisin' solo, taking my sweet time, enjoying the scenic route as I cruise down memory late, waving goodbye to "Ms. Right Now"'s place in my rear-view mirror and taking the nearest exit for "Ms. Right"'s house. And I say "the nearest exit" because, well, I can't lie: I'm pretty impatient at times. But I've also learned that flooring it is never ever ever a good idea, and until I get there, its nothing but me, my car, the road, and these sweet, sweet dreams.




Baby, I'm not tired of the chase. I just need someone who'll chase back.

southern comfort

It's only been three months since this new way of living has crept into my world, but it feels as if its been much longer than that. I cannot even begin to sort out all of the foreign luxuries and features that come with this state of being and somehow paste them together into anything that even remotely resembles a rational thought, because that's just how crazy this whole ride has been. Sleeping at the crack of dawn. Sneaking out in the middle of the night, cracking the door open ever-so-slowly as to not make it creak. Late-night runs to fast food establishments that would otherwise never be visited if it weren't for the fact that they're open until the wee hours of the morning. Long-awaited trips to the beach, the sunset streaking across the sky, the horizon and the windshield of our car becoming one with each other. Spontaneous outings, literally planned an hour or two before taking place, just packing up the bags and throwing them into the car, our blood pumping as we seek adventure and companionship. Good food, better drinks, the best sex that we never had. Laying down on a tiled garage floor, intoxicated to all hell and back, drowning these sorrows away with drinks that both poison and remedy our souls. Yet deep down, we know it has to end. My eyes speak to me and tell me so each time I look at myself in the mirror. Wouldn't it be nice if we could just forget the other side of things? And to think, I could have had it all.



But this ride isn't over, yet.