"The first thing you have to do is plant your seed... Find good structure in your life and be surrounded by those who only bring out the good in you. When you realize that you have those kind of people in your life, things will just sort of fall into place. The seed will start to grow and your life will just start to blossom into something so beautiful."
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Language.
It's been quite some time.
Have you ever wondered where you'll end up in the future? A year from now, two years, ten? Do you ever feel as if there's someone or something up there watching your every move? And although you might not know it yet, you'll be okay. They watch you with eager eyes as you slip and fall and struggle to get up. "Why don't they help me?", you ask. Perhaps some mistakes are yours and yours alone to make.
To be quite honest, I would never have guessed that I would be writing here again, but somehow, a strange turn of events has made me realize that maybe its about time things came full-circle.
She texted me out of the blue. "Are you on campus?". The last person I would expect to talk to me after that drunken debacle of intoxication and lust that occurred several months ago. But, playing the role of the curious cat as always, I decided to meet her anyway. From there, it all came in stride - the mutual give-and-take, the unspoken agreements that we made not to keep in contact lest we needed something from one another, the seething disdain that was underlying our every action. Neither of us was worth each other's time, it was decided. We were just out to get all that we could get our hands on, while making sure nothing of ours was taken in the process. And it worked.
My friends hated her. All of them. She was a slut, a tramp, a hoe, a hoochie, a whore, whatever; just about every name in the book was thrown at her. I won't lie: I was the first to throw many of those names. Yet despite the joking around, something about me never committed to the things I had said. I just didn't feel it in my bones. And as the entire group fell deeper and deeper into this idea that she was a vile, hopeless girl undeserving of love or warmth, I simply couldn't. I fell into something else altogether.
There were things that she told me that made me think. She told me, one Wednesday afternoon, as we were returning from a routine pickup, that I had changed. That I used to be such a sweet boy when we had first met, some eight or so months ago, before the drugs and the events and the people and lifestyle that came along with it. She told me that something was different about me, but she didn't know what, exactly. Just something about the way that I carry myself and the company I keep, how I act and talk when I'm around others. And at first, it annoyed me, no, it infuriated me. I sat there quietly in the driver's seat, nodding, uttering, "yeah", but all I could think at the time was, "How could you say all of these things about me? How could you tell me that I've changed when you barely knew me in the first place?". When it was all said and done, I coldly unlocked the door and watched her leave.
But over the next couple of days, I thought about what she had said, and what I had found when I began to take a closer look at everything was...oh my god, she's right. I am different. Perhaps not a different person altogether, but still different. Colder. I was the same person deep down inside, just a little lost.
I thanked her for it. For someone with a reputation as soiled as hers to have to audacity and gall to call me out on my own character was a breath of fresh air, an unexpected slap in the face that opened my eyes to the world outside of my bubble. And from there, we kept in touch. What really got to me was how she appreciated the little things. We would talk, and she told me that she liked that I remembered things that she had told me many months before, in the tender stages of our friendship - little things such as where she used to work, or how she would give her little brother rides to and from school, or her notorious habit of sparking up as she was driving to school, how she always promised me she would quit smoking after she finishes her pack, yet show up a week later with a brand new one. She told me it was sweet of me to remember the little details, and that she liked how I would walk her to class every day and sit around and chat with her, keep her company despite having my own things to attend to. She had even asked me how come I'm not an English major since I (apparently) write very well, and when I asked her how she knew I had a way with words, she at first attempted to be coy and play it off, but in the end admitted to having read my blog, despite me never directly informing her of its existence. I thought that was nice.
We continued talking and hanging out. Just catching up, for old times sake. One thing lead to another, and that to another, and that to yet another, and by the end of a few weeks, it was the same old routine, all over again. Only this time, the feelings involved were different. There was no...adoration, no lingering desires for emotional closure, no puppy-eyed "don't leave me" faces. It was a mutual agreement, unspoken but known to both of us, that whatever pleasures we enjoyed together were strictly of the flesh. And I was fine with that. Still am. I don't miss her, nor long after her heart. In fact, I may be able to safely say that my emotions lie comfortably elsewhere. It was...nice. A change of scenery, that's for sure. Am I "easy" for it? Maybe, only if you think I am. That's up to you.
What this journey has really taught me (other than the fact that I've still got it) is the true worth of a human being. Despite all the names we called her, all the mistakes and bad decisions that she's made, her constant thirst that is seemingly unquenchable, deep down inside, she's still a human being with a heart and emotions and her own struggles. I honestly believe there's good and bad in everyone. That's why I could never hate anyone. I always try to see them for what they're worth and I believe that everyone deserves to love and to be loved in return, despite any bad decisions they may have made in the past. Sometimes we get so caught up with what is right and wrong that we forget that we are all only human.
And even more astounding to me was what she had said. About how I was sweet, and that I'm a good person, and that I have a heart and that I'm not like the rest, that sometimes I just get a little lost and lose my way. It made me realize...if even someone like her, out of all people, with her flaws and mistakes and all, could appreciate me for the person that I am, the person that so many have discarded and passed up on before...then maybe I'm not a lost cause, after all. Maybe I'm not a hopeless romantic, and one day I'm going to find someone who loves me for who I am.
Maybe. Just maybe...
Food for thought, isn't it?
Goodnight.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Mush
That's all that I've been lately, physically and mentally. Hence the lack of any updates for the past five months or so. Here's a random picture of me drinking a smoothie, just to prove that I am still alive and to remind everyone what I look like (hah).
If, somehow, you had presented to me six months ago the person that I am today, I would be in complete and total disbelief. I mean, I understand that people change over time, but a transformation so drastic typically doesn't occur over such a short period of time, let alone so fluidly and without resistance. Yet here I am, plowing through 2012 with such fervor that I even scare myself at times. I've never known myself to be a spontaneous-almost-reckless "go-getter" type of person, but given the circumstances that I've been in lately, I suppose its easy to see how I've become such a being.
So much has changed, so much. I'm not quite sure where to begin, and I certainly don't possess neither the time nor the capability to cover all the bases in one blog post, but there's a few things that really seem to stick out. Like the fact that I shave a lot more often, for instance. No more whiskers. My weight has also fluctuated, dipping as low as 121 lbs, but it now sits at a healthy 136.5 lbs, with a good chunk of the added weight being muscle. Yes, I finally acquired a gym membership and have been hitting the weights four, maybe five times a week. I've done loads to my car, something that I'll dedicate an entire entry to one day, but let's just say that I've discovered slammed life to be a lot more interesting than I thought it would be. I went to my first rave the other week, and have many more planned in the near future. We'll talk about that later, as well. Work has been typical, steady, consistent; 30-hour workweeks become tiresome at times, but the raise and perks that I was recently blessed with help keep things interesting. And school, the most dreaded necessity of all for many people, has done nothing but remind me that I've absolutely no clue as to what path I want to dedicate myself to. At the very least, however, my mind is brimming with ideas as to what I aspire to do. And I've finished that dreaded IGETC. Finally.
And of course, let's not forget the beautiful people in my life. To be honest, a tiny, no a very minute part of me misses the social aspect of high school - the fact that you would see the same faces in class every day, or around campus, or at the local Target after school, and you would just know that they're there. Not at all like "the real world", where faces become blurs and everyone moves from one point to the next, carrying about their own business. Nonetheless, this only strengthens the bond that I have with those that I make an active effort to spend time with, and those that reciprocate the thought. I've never been one to have dozens upon dozens of friends ready and willing to go out with me whenever I please, never was one of the "popular" kids...but that's alright. Those that I do have, I hold very dear to me. My parents and my family, first and foremost. My coworkers, many of whom have become some of my closest friends beyond the workplace. My NorCal Celica family, because we spend more time just hanging out and being silly with each other than we do actually talking about car stuff. All of the various friends who enjoy my company enough to send me a text every now and then, asking if I'd like to grab a bite to eat or hang out at a park somewhere. And my best friend, someone who I've been close to for a number of years now, but only very recently started to see that out of everybody that I know, she's one of the select few who truly accepts me for who I am. I love you all.
What a wild ride it's been so far, 2012. I'm not going to lie: I've probably spent as much time being sad, depressed, bitter, upset, and abso-fucking-lutely stupid as I've spent being truly happy so far this year, but in retrospect, I've also lived up to my expectations, perhaps even exceeded them. I told myself I would take more risks. I've definitely done so; just ask my heart, my body, and my wallet. I said that I would spend more time with my loved ones; I still kiss my mom goodnight, every single night, and I've never been in better company whenever I go out with my friends. I wanted to be a bit more open with my thoughts and feelings, let people in on what I'm feeling; maybe I could use some work on this, but overall, not bad! And I promised that this year would be my year; well, I'm having a blast, and the year ain't even close to over.
Let's see what else you've got in store for me, 2012. I'm ready.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
The Fighter From The Streets.
Alesso...you are amazing.
I apologize. I haven't been in much of a writing mood for the past couple of months despite my vow that I would keep up with this blog more often than I did last year. Some things, you think they won't affect you that much or prevent you from the simple joys of blogging or photography or playing a musical instrument, but in the end, they just end up getting in the way - things like school, work, distress in relationships...you know, "the usual". But in fact, lately I haven't even been feeling much of anything, if at all. You can only get cut so deep and so many times before the wound begins to swell, and soon enough you're taking the hits without really feeling it at all.
I wake up. Roll over, hit the snooze button, maybe once, maybe twice, maybe five times before finally getting up. I check the notifications on my phone; its my turn for a couple of games, perhaps a new notification or a "like" or two on one of my posts. If I'm lucky, a text from someone who feels the need to share something on their mind or is wondering what I'm doing later on in the day, but nothing monumental. I hop out of bed and slip into my torn monkey slippers, walking drearily down the hallway and into the bathroom, hoping that a hot shower will get me up-and-going and eager for the day ahead of me. It never works, yet I keep telling myself that it will. The rest of my day is simply not worth going into detail over.
"Have you talked to her lately?", she asked as we drove home, me in the passenger seat, for once. An unexpected question to be sure, but not a surprising one, if that makes any sense at all. I hesitate for a moment - after all, it has been over a month and, for the most part, I've kept quiet about the whole thing, hoping that it'd pass me by sooner or later - before telling her that it's been on and off; brief conversations here and there, maybe a couple of humorous pictures sent, but nothing like what it used to be. "It's whatever". I can't believe I really said that. Is it really "whatever"? Maybe, maybe not. "There's not much I can do about it now, though". Maybe that's the truth, or so I tell myself until the dreadful, nagging voice in the back of my mind whispers, "You know, if you really cared about your friendship..."
People have always had a way of telling me that things will be okay. My more religious friends will tell me that God has a plan, and that whatever challenges He puts me through will only benefit me and strengthen me as a person. I'm not quite sure if I completely buy into that. Others tell me to keep my chin up, reminding me that I've been through adversity before and have gotten through the tough times just fine. There's no denying that much, but at times I ask myself, "What have I learned from all of those past experiences?". My mind is sluggish to come up with a coherent, rational answer to that question.
Sometimes I wake up, and I want to do nothing yet everything all at once. I look up at the clouds, see the sun break over the crest of the hills overlooking the city, birds flying in formation across the backdrop of endless sky. How dearly I want to meet someone with no premeditated intentions or motives and just be. And the roads, oh, all of the roads I'd travel upon, just drive on until I reach the Pacific and catch a glimpse of the sun on the horizon.
There is a definite sense of adventure that I have clearly been lacking in my life. Sure, the money is good and the spontaneous trip to Vegas was nice, but caviar and fine wine is no replacement for the uplifting "double-shot of adrenaline" rush that only a few things in life can produce.
Getting only five hours of sleep and then taking on a full day of school and work, however, is not one of those things. May my mind be at ease and my soul at peace for the time being, until I can put the pieces back together.
I apologize. I haven't been in much of a writing mood for the past couple of months despite my vow that I would keep up with this blog more often than I did last year. Some things, you think they won't affect you that much or prevent you from the simple joys of blogging or photography or playing a musical instrument, but in the end, they just end up getting in the way - things like school, work, distress in relationships...you know, "the usual". But in fact, lately I haven't even been feeling much of anything, if at all. You can only get cut so deep and so many times before the wound begins to swell, and soon enough you're taking the hits without really feeling it at all.
I wake up. Roll over, hit the snooze button, maybe once, maybe twice, maybe five times before finally getting up. I check the notifications on my phone; its my turn for a couple of games, perhaps a new notification or a "like" or two on one of my posts. If I'm lucky, a text from someone who feels the need to share something on their mind or is wondering what I'm doing later on in the day, but nothing monumental. I hop out of bed and slip into my torn monkey slippers, walking drearily down the hallway and into the bathroom, hoping that a hot shower will get me up-and-going and eager for the day ahead of me. It never works, yet I keep telling myself that it will. The rest of my day is simply not worth going into detail over.
"Have you talked to her lately?", she asked as we drove home, me in the passenger seat, for once. An unexpected question to be sure, but not a surprising one, if that makes any sense at all. I hesitate for a moment - after all, it has been over a month and, for the most part, I've kept quiet about the whole thing, hoping that it'd pass me by sooner or later - before telling her that it's been on and off; brief conversations here and there, maybe a couple of humorous pictures sent, but nothing like what it used to be. "It's whatever". I can't believe I really said that. Is it really "whatever"? Maybe, maybe not. "There's not much I can do about it now, though". Maybe that's the truth, or so I tell myself until the dreadful, nagging voice in the back of my mind whispers, "You know, if you really cared about your friendship..."
People have always had a way of telling me that things will be okay. My more religious friends will tell me that God has a plan, and that whatever challenges He puts me through will only benefit me and strengthen me as a person. I'm not quite sure if I completely buy into that. Others tell me to keep my chin up, reminding me that I've been through adversity before and have gotten through the tough times just fine. There's no denying that much, but at times I ask myself, "What have I learned from all of those past experiences?". My mind is sluggish to come up with a coherent, rational answer to that question.
Sometimes I wake up, and I want to do nothing yet everything all at once. I look up at the clouds, see the sun break over the crest of the hills overlooking the city, birds flying in formation across the backdrop of endless sky. How dearly I want to meet someone with no premeditated intentions or motives and just be. And the roads, oh, all of the roads I'd travel upon, just drive on until I reach the Pacific and catch a glimpse of the sun on the horizon.
There is a definite sense of adventure that I have clearly been lacking in my life. Sure, the money is good and the spontaneous trip to Vegas was nice, but caviar and fine wine is no replacement for the uplifting "double-shot of adrenaline" rush that only a few things in life can produce.
Getting only five hours of sleep and then taking on a full day of school and work, however, is not one of those things. May my mind be at ease and my soul at peace for the time being, until I can put the pieces back together.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Practice.
It's been an intense month. I promised myself I would blog more this year, but so far I haven't been doing such a swell job. But, here I am, 21 minutes past the hour, in the one place where I can truly put it down.
Time and love are both fleeting, and lately I haven't had much of either. Already we're a month into winter quarter, and I've little to show for the body of work which I've managed to produce thus far. My most recent endeavor of the heart, which was completely unexpected and perhaps a little more risky than I'm used to, has left me between a rock and a hard place. I've also discovered that my cousin is soon to be married, with a newborn child on the way; it seems like just yesterday that we were barely tall enough to ride the roller coasters, waking up early every summer morning just to play video games. Where has it all gone?
I suppose you can say that all of this has me somewhat bent out of shape. The crushing agony of a one-night-stand, shots of clear liquor, bad tan lines, bonfires on the beach, trips to the city, and mostly, the spontaneity of it all; all of these things, both wondrous and humbling, have come rushing back to me in the past week or so. They remind me that I am only human. That I can feel, that I can cry, that I can be on top of the world one night and hit rock-bottom the next. In a way, it's a good sensation.
I've been sitting here for the past half hour or so, watching Youtube videos of songs from a not-too-distant past. I struggled mightily to fight the tears, yet they still filled my eyes. They reminded me of how far I've come from past adversity, and also reminded me of how much more I have to go until I finally get "there". Who knows if I'll ever reach it? But that's the beauty of human nature, is it not? There is no "end", no true destination; there is always room for improvement, never a dull moment. This is life's way of keeping you on your toes. I feel like I've become a pretty good dancer over the years, if you catch my drift.
In retrospect, I sometimes wonder whether or not it was worth it, every risk I ever took. What if I had never let her into my bed, much less my heart? What if I had worked harder to keep in touch with some of the people I've lost? What if I had never told one of my closest friends of three-plus years the way I feel about her? But then I think to myself: if I had never taken these chances, I would never have learned from these experiences, and I wouldn't be the man that I am today. At times, I admit, it gets frustrating to do a little introspection only to find that despite the risks I've taken, I'm still lonely at the end of the day, but all of that is assuaged when I remind myself that it's the journey, not the destination, that makes it all worthwhile.
I've since adopted a motto: "If you're unhappy with your life, you're either not taking enough risks or taking too many." So far, so true. While I can't say that I'm completely happy with the way things have turned out thus far, neither can I say that I'm unhappy. I believe that I've found a balanced medium, and while I won't stay content forever, at the very least I'll have a solid footing on which to further continue my journey. Let's see where this takes me; I hope I brought the right shoes.
Time, work your magic.
Time and love are both fleeting, and lately I haven't had much of either. Already we're a month into winter quarter, and I've little to show for the body of work which I've managed to produce thus far. My most recent endeavor of the heart, which was completely unexpected and perhaps a little more risky than I'm used to, has left me between a rock and a hard place. I've also discovered that my cousin is soon to be married, with a newborn child on the way; it seems like just yesterday that we were barely tall enough to ride the roller coasters, waking up early every summer morning just to play video games. Where has it all gone?
I suppose you can say that all of this has me somewhat bent out of shape. The crushing agony of a one-night-stand, shots of clear liquor, bad tan lines, bonfires on the beach, trips to the city, and mostly, the spontaneity of it all; all of these things, both wondrous and humbling, have come rushing back to me in the past week or so. They remind me that I am only human. That I can feel, that I can cry, that I can be on top of the world one night and hit rock-bottom the next. In a way, it's a good sensation.
I've been sitting here for the past half hour or so, watching Youtube videos of songs from a not-too-distant past. I struggled mightily to fight the tears, yet they still filled my eyes. They reminded me of how far I've come from past adversity, and also reminded me of how much more I have to go until I finally get "there". Who knows if I'll ever reach it? But that's the beauty of human nature, is it not? There is no "end", no true destination; there is always room for improvement, never a dull moment. This is life's way of keeping you on your toes. I feel like I've become a pretty good dancer over the years, if you catch my drift.
In retrospect, I sometimes wonder whether or not it was worth it, every risk I ever took. What if I had never let her into my bed, much less my heart? What if I had worked harder to keep in touch with some of the people I've lost? What if I had never told one of my closest friends of three-plus years the way I feel about her? But then I think to myself: if I had never taken these chances, I would never have learned from these experiences, and I wouldn't be the man that I am today. At times, I admit, it gets frustrating to do a little introspection only to find that despite the risks I've taken, I'm still lonely at the end of the day, but all of that is assuaged when I remind myself that it's the journey, not the destination, that makes it all worthwhile.
I've since adopted a motto: "If you're unhappy with your life, you're either not taking enough risks or taking too many." So far, so true. While I can't say that I'm completely happy with the way things have turned out thus far, neither can I say that I'm unhappy. I believe that I've found a balanced medium, and while I won't stay content forever, at the very least I'll have a solid footing on which to further continue my journey. Let's see where this takes me; I hope I brought the right shoes.
Time, work your magic.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
By Chance,
Call it luck, coincidence, or whatever else you want to, but something deep inside is telling me that it's real, and it's worth a shot.
You'll never know unless you try, right?
You'll never know unless you try, right?
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Can't be wrong.
Sitting here. On my bed. It's 4:41 A.M., and once again, I find myself wondering, "Why the hell am I still awake?!". So much for becoming a morning person. I guess I'll start with a recap of recent events, something that I haven't done for awhile, at least not chronologically and in great detail. I honestly don't even know where to start, so I guess we'll begin with today...well, technically "yesterday" now that it's past midnight.
I woke up sometime around 1 P.M. today after getting some much-needed sleep following an arduous first week of winter quarter and working closing shifts right after my classes. Having three weeks off for Christmas break and being able to come into work each and every day feeling bubbly and refreshed was a nice change of pace, but I've really forgotten what its like to pull a 12+ hour day until this weekend. Luckily for me, work hasn't been all that bad lately; this week has been a rather slow week due to the weather getting a little bit colder, so I was able to smoothly ease myself back into the groove of working. I expect it to be getting much busier in a week or two once it warms up.
Anyway, I didn't even roll out of bed until nearly 2 P.M. My parents were gone once again, so I reheated some leftover pastries and enjoyed them on the couch, still in my PJs, stretching and yawning as I munched on them while watching NFL Network. About half an hour later I brushed my teeth - and this is unusual for me, because unlike western culture, Asians (or at least Vietnamese people) brush their teeth first, and then they eat breakfast. For the past month or so I've been breaking the mold and eating breakfast prior to brushing, and I have to admit that it just plain makes sense. Why would you brush your teeth first if they're only going to get dirty again?! Not to mention that everything tastes gross with the aftertaste of toothpaste still in your mouth...
After brushing up, my parents came home, and asked if I wanted to go to Santana Row for dinner before I go to work later that night, and of course, I can never refuse dinner with my parents. I spent about an hour playing Battlefield 3, going 25-6 as I sat in an M1 Abrams for most of the round, earning 2 Combat Efficiency ribbons and a total score of somewhere close to 20,000 points for the round. I then showered and left to get gas, and then met up with my parents after that. We decided to eat at Left Bank, a restaurant that I pass by every day but never really had a chance to try. Despite working on The Row, I always feel underdressed and out-of-placed whenever I'm there, but nonetheless, we had quite a satisfying dinner, if I may say so myself. Worth the high price that comes with dining at an upscale, trendy restaurant? Probably not, but it was nice.
Work was typical, if not a little slow. I'm gradually recognizing more and more of the regulars that come in. I love the look on a customer's face when I greet them with familiarity, especially if it's my first time doing so to them; they always give me a stifled smile and a look as if to say, "Oops, I know that I come here way too often, this is my guilty pleasure, but it's just so good!". Despite it being a somewhat underwhelming day as far as our sales went, the big-ballers definitely showed up tonight: our tip jar was overflowing, and I received two $5 personal tips, which has never happened to me before tonight. Of course, for the sake of fairness, I put the bills back into the tip jar. But still, it was a nice gesture.
After work, I gave my coworker and friend Bernie a ride home since he didn't have one, and since he lives in Milpitas and I hadn't been there for awhile, I decided to go for a brief, yet relaxing cruise around town after dropping him off. There's something about this city that captivates me...but only at night. Something about driving down Main St., past the library, looking at the rows of bright white lamps on either side, the sleek navy-blue and orange street signs at the intersections (which are much neater than the boring green ones that we have), the tranquility and calmness of it all...I just don't get that feeling anywhere else. I don't think there's a place in San Jose that I can go to and drive, and feel as relaxed as I do driving around Milpitas. That, and the 680 at night.
And here I am, five hours later, still awake, listening to acoustics as my eyes begin to close, a melody and a heart full of hope to lull me to sleep, anticipation for what tomorrow may bring. I would stay awake, but I kind of like sleeping. It's only in my dreams that this has already come true, and nothing feels sweeter than that single moment in which you first regain consciousness after a deep slumber and you're awake, but at the same time incapable of making the distinction between dreams and reality. In that moment, these sheets have never felt warmer. In that moment, you are mine.
Until then, I'll stay dreaming.
I woke up sometime around 1 P.M. today after getting some much-needed sleep following an arduous first week of winter quarter and working closing shifts right after my classes. Having three weeks off for Christmas break and being able to come into work each and every day feeling bubbly and refreshed was a nice change of pace, but I've really forgotten what its like to pull a 12+ hour day until this weekend. Luckily for me, work hasn't been all that bad lately; this week has been a rather slow week due to the weather getting a little bit colder, so I was able to smoothly ease myself back into the groove of working. I expect it to be getting much busier in a week or two once it warms up.
Anyway, I didn't even roll out of bed until nearly 2 P.M. My parents were gone once again, so I reheated some leftover pastries and enjoyed them on the couch, still in my PJs, stretching and yawning as I munched on them while watching NFL Network. About half an hour later I brushed my teeth - and this is unusual for me, because unlike western culture, Asians (or at least Vietnamese people) brush their teeth first, and then they eat breakfast. For the past month or so I've been breaking the mold and eating breakfast prior to brushing, and I have to admit that it just plain makes sense. Why would you brush your teeth first if they're only going to get dirty again?! Not to mention that everything tastes gross with the aftertaste of toothpaste still in your mouth...
After brushing up, my parents came home, and asked if I wanted to go to Santana Row for dinner before I go to work later that night, and of course, I can never refuse dinner with my parents. I spent about an hour playing Battlefield 3, going 25-6 as I sat in an M1 Abrams for most of the round, earning 2 Combat Efficiency ribbons and a total score of somewhere close to 20,000 points for the round. I then showered and left to get gas, and then met up with my parents after that. We decided to eat at Left Bank, a restaurant that I pass by every day but never really had a chance to try. Despite working on The Row, I always feel underdressed and out-of-placed whenever I'm there, but nonetheless, we had quite a satisfying dinner, if I may say so myself. Worth the high price that comes with dining at an upscale, trendy restaurant? Probably not, but it was nice.
Work was typical, if not a little slow. I'm gradually recognizing more and more of the regulars that come in. I love the look on a customer's face when I greet them with familiarity, especially if it's my first time doing so to them; they always give me a stifled smile and a look as if to say, "Oops, I know that I come here way too often, this is my guilty pleasure, but it's just so good!". Despite it being a somewhat underwhelming day as far as our sales went, the big-ballers definitely showed up tonight: our tip jar was overflowing, and I received two $5 personal tips, which has never happened to me before tonight. Of course, for the sake of fairness, I put the bills back into the tip jar. But still, it was a nice gesture.
After work, I gave my coworker and friend Bernie a ride home since he didn't have one, and since he lives in Milpitas and I hadn't been there for awhile, I decided to go for a brief, yet relaxing cruise around town after dropping him off. There's something about this city that captivates me...but only at night. Something about driving down Main St., past the library, looking at the rows of bright white lamps on either side, the sleek navy-blue and orange street signs at the intersections (which are much neater than the boring green ones that we have), the tranquility and calmness of it all...I just don't get that feeling anywhere else. I don't think there's a place in San Jose that I can go to and drive, and feel as relaxed as I do driving around Milpitas. That, and the 680 at night.
And here I am, five hours later, still awake, listening to acoustics as my eyes begin to close, a melody and a heart full of hope to lull me to sleep, anticipation for what tomorrow may bring. I would stay awake, but I kind of like sleeping. It's only in my dreams that this has already come true, and nothing feels sweeter than that single moment in which you first regain consciousness after a deep slumber and you're awake, but at the same time incapable of making the distinction between dreams and reality. In that moment, these sheets have never felt warmer. In that moment, you are mine.
Until then, I'll stay dreaming.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Slight Work.
Finally got around to installing a couple of things for my baby.
With the help of my buddy Vikram, my HIDs were successfully installed a few days before the new year. I'm really pleased with the color as well as the light output, and I'm definitely glad that I went with 5000K rather than 6000K. About a week later, I finally got around to installing the intake, and after a few hours and an extra set of helping hands from my dad, the car was up-and-running and sounding meaner than ever, with a low, deep growl emitting every time I open up the throttle. Not to mention that it looks kinda nice, too; my mom walked by the garage as my dad and I were working on the car, pointed to the intake, and asked, "What is that? It looks pretty."
I've got a whole lot of plans for her in the future, but for now, I'm rather content with the work I've put in ever since I picked her up nearly a year and a half ago. Yet for some reason, despite all the time I've invested in her lately (I spent nearly two hours washing her last week and was late to picking up my friend), I haven't felt the desire or urge to drive fast anymore. I went up to the hills a few nights ago after work; my parents had once again gone to a party, and it seemed as if everyone was having fun doing their own thing. I just wanted a little "me" time, and normally, this would have involved double-clutching, rev-matching, kicking her into a lower gear and letting her roar as I rip through the corners and curves. That night, though, I just couldn't get into it.
I don't know what's going on. Why put all this time and effort into something if you fail to benefit from it? But maybe there's more to it. And I know I said that 2012 would be "my" year, and as much as I'm trying not to be a debbie downer, something has been different lately. I'll be fine; just give me a few moments to get used to all of these changes.
-Off to class
With the help of my buddy Vikram, my HIDs were successfully installed a few days before the new year. I'm really pleased with the color as well as the light output, and I'm definitely glad that I went with 5000K rather than 6000K. About a week later, I finally got around to installing the intake, and after a few hours and an extra set of helping hands from my dad, the car was up-and-running and sounding meaner than ever, with a low, deep growl emitting every time I open up the throttle. Not to mention that it looks kinda nice, too; my mom walked by the garage as my dad and I were working on the car, pointed to the intake, and asked, "What is that? It looks pretty."
I've got a whole lot of plans for her in the future, but for now, I'm rather content with the work I've put in ever since I picked her up nearly a year and a half ago. Yet for some reason, despite all the time I've invested in her lately (I spent nearly two hours washing her last week and was late to picking up my friend), I haven't felt the desire or urge to drive fast anymore. I went up to the hills a few nights ago after work; my parents had once again gone to a party, and it seemed as if everyone was having fun doing their own thing. I just wanted a little "me" time, and normally, this would have involved double-clutching, rev-matching, kicking her into a lower gear and letting her roar as I rip through the corners and curves. That night, though, I just couldn't get into it.
I don't know what's going on. Why put all this time and effort into something if you fail to benefit from it? But maybe there's more to it. And I know I said that 2012 would be "my" year, and as much as I'm trying not to be a debbie downer, something has been different lately. I'll be fine; just give me a few moments to get used to all of these changes.
-Off to class
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Rise.
I'm a week late. But better late than never, right?
4:12 A.M. Not an unfamiliar time of the day for me by any means, but the circumstances in which I'm surrounded have certainly been strange as of late. I feel as if I've missed out on so much lately: friends I haven't seen for months, my future passing before my eyes, the spirit of the holidays nowhere to be found. Ironically, I didn't feel festive at all until after Christmas had passed, and even that was fleeting; by New Years Eve, I was my old self again, circa 2010, and I had spent the passing of yet another year entrapped in my room, sitting in front of a computer screen, wondering what the hell I'm doing with my life.
I was never one to make New Years resolutions. I was never able to keep them, at least not for more than a month or so. This year is a little different. I've made several so far. One involves spending more time with my family; I'm literally out for 12+ hours a day, from the moment I leave my house at 9:50 A.M. for class every morning until I walk through my front door, oftentimes around midnight or perhaps even later, dead tired from work, only to find that my mother had fallen asleep watching TV on the couch, waiting for me to come home. It kills me a little inside, every single time.
I've also taken it upon myself to take more risks. While it may sound cliché, just think about it: how many moments have passed you by, how many opportunities have you missed in the past? Perhaps it was that one person who caught your eye, but whom you never worked up the nerve to say "hi" to. Was it time lost with your loved ones, moments that they will hold forever but you will never know, all because you were too "busy" to spend time with them? Or maybe its that thing, you know, that one thing that you told yourself you'd do someday, but never got around to. That road trip you never went on, the hike that you never took, or even the little things. For instance, I made a vow to "train" myself to become a morning person by going to bed and waking up earlier, and so far, so good; I woke up at 11 A.M. yesterday morning, which is impressive, considering that I normally don't get out of bed until 3 P.M. on days that I don't have class. (Of course, the fact that my restless self is still awake at this very moment just ruined any and all of the progress that I've made.)
Last, but not least, I want to be more open - about myself, my opinions, my emotions, everything. What's ironic is that I used to be an incredibly open person, to the point where I would feel left-out and was even ostracized because I had the tendency to speak my mind in all but the most dire of circumstances. I suppose nobody really wants to know how I feel, 24/7. Since those days, I've bottled up most of the thoughts and feelings that have coursed throughout my body and soul, and nobody really knows much of what's up with me anymore.
These are all things that are going to change, in due time.
Like I said, I've never been one to make resolutions for New Years. This year, though, there's something different. A change in the air. It's electric. I feel as if I've made more progress in the past month than I did over the 11 months of the year that came before that, and it's great. And as much as it scares me to think of what the future might bring, I simply cannot wait to tackle this year head-on and see what is has to offer me, savoring every last moment, good or bad. 2012 will be a breakout year for me. That, I promise to you, and to myself.
That's all for now. I'm going hiking later today. Pz.
4:12 A.M. Not an unfamiliar time of the day for me by any means, but the circumstances in which I'm surrounded have certainly been strange as of late. I feel as if I've missed out on so much lately: friends I haven't seen for months, my future passing before my eyes, the spirit of the holidays nowhere to be found. Ironically, I didn't feel festive at all until after Christmas had passed, and even that was fleeting; by New Years Eve, I was my old self again, circa 2010, and I had spent the passing of yet another year entrapped in my room, sitting in front of a computer screen, wondering what the hell I'm doing with my life.
I was never one to make New Years resolutions. I was never able to keep them, at least not for more than a month or so. This year is a little different. I've made several so far. One involves spending more time with my family; I'm literally out for 12+ hours a day, from the moment I leave my house at 9:50 A.M. for class every morning until I walk through my front door, oftentimes around midnight or perhaps even later, dead tired from work, only to find that my mother had fallen asleep watching TV on the couch, waiting for me to come home. It kills me a little inside, every single time.
I've also taken it upon myself to take more risks. While it may sound cliché, just think about it: how many moments have passed you by, how many opportunities have you missed in the past? Perhaps it was that one person who caught your eye, but whom you never worked up the nerve to say "hi" to. Was it time lost with your loved ones, moments that they will hold forever but you will never know, all because you were too "busy" to spend time with them? Or maybe its that thing, you know, that one thing that you told yourself you'd do someday, but never got around to. That road trip you never went on, the hike that you never took, or even the little things. For instance, I made a vow to "train" myself to become a morning person by going to bed and waking up earlier, and so far, so good; I woke up at 11 A.M. yesterday morning, which is impressive, considering that I normally don't get out of bed until 3 P.M. on days that I don't have class. (Of course, the fact that my restless self is still awake at this very moment just ruined any and all of the progress that I've made.)
Last, but not least, I want to be more open - about myself, my opinions, my emotions, everything. What's ironic is that I used to be an incredibly open person, to the point where I would feel left-out and was even ostracized because I had the tendency to speak my mind in all but the most dire of circumstances. I suppose nobody really wants to know how I feel, 24/7. Since those days, I've bottled up most of the thoughts and feelings that have coursed throughout my body and soul, and nobody really knows much of what's up with me anymore.
These are all things that are going to change, in due time.
Like I said, I've never been one to make resolutions for New Years. This year, though, there's something different. A change in the air. It's electric. I feel as if I've made more progress in the past month than I did over the 11 months of the year that came before that, and it's great. And as much as it scares me to think of what the future might bring, I simply cannot wait to tackle this year head-on and see what is has to offer me, savoring every last moment, good or bad. 2012 will be a breakout year for me. That, I promise to you, and to myself.
That's all for now. I'm going hiking later today. Pz.
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