One Last Push

Can You Go Home Again?

2012-02-28T19:08:00.002-08:00

When I first heard the phrase “You can't go home again,” Iwas quite confused about what that meant, as I did not hear any of the contextthat phrase came from-and didn't until many years later; after doing someresearch, though, I discovered that it started to hit home in more ways than Iever considered possible. The more I became a proper adult, the more I grewdistant from much of what I held dear as a youth, and that became crystal clearwhen I went for a trip to the place I once called home and browsed some of thelit I enjoyed back then. I can't quite put my finger on why, but as I workedthrough them, I found the themes of insecurity and worry about the perceptionsheld by others just didn't grab me like they used to, and in fact were quiteoff putting, perhaps because I could no longer connect to them and could onlysee the quality of the storytelling.

It really made me wonder how much farther I've got to go tobecome the man I know I can be.

I know I'll have a proper job, my own place and all thatjazz and I know I can handle the responsibilities that comes with, but oncethat comes to be, then what? One of the things I've working on is becoming moresocial and able to hold short form, light chats with people I've met for thethe first time-skills I, admittedly, am not that great at yet-, but fromeverything I've seen from my friends traveling the path towards adulthood, itseems like they have even less energy and time to be social and chatty. Thetime thing will come with proper scheduling skills and discipline, but theenergy thing is something I'm quite worried about, especially since being aslazy as I have with the energy I have(among other bad habits) has caused me togain 40+ pounds after I stopped playing Dance Dance Revolution seriously.

What can I do to manage my energy between my 9-to-5, my lifeoutside work and my personal time?

The last thing I want to happen is to develop a wakeup-breakfast-work-lunch-work-home-dinner-sleep only mentality because I don't have the fuel to do anything elseafterward. Yes, building a box is key to living regular and building towardssomething more fulfilling, but when you cannot or will not let yourself thinkoutside that box after it's built, then stagnation is bound to take place andproduce a sense of resentment at the very box you built, but need to maintainin order to maintain an acceptable level of discomfort. I've seen it happentime and again, and in most cases the person was never able to break it and dosomething with all they've built for themselves, leaving behind the feeling ofwhat could've been, had they found the courage to go beyond their own bounds.

As much as I despise not knowing if I'll make it from onemoment to the next, I despise not growing even more.

This is why I always keep mementos of times long past in mylife, so I can remember where I've been and what I took away from them. SurelyI'll have to shed a few when it comes time to build the flow of my ownplace-don't wanna have to have to navigate a maze of crap just to get ready forthe day, after all-, but as long as that wisdom and experience guides my steps,I'm sure I'll get to where I want to in life, even if it isn't in the way Iexpect. “Those that fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it,” assome like to say, and I know my history has taught me well about what to do andwhat not to, such as showing kindness towards others regardless of who they areand what they've done and not to tell a women that they smell pretty frombehind them. They won't always be easy to accept, but I know they'll help me onmy way to being the person I want to be, and if they do that for me, then Imore than welcome the trials those lessons come with.

Perhaps I can no longer go home again, but that only means Ihave the chance to take what I've learned and build myself a new one.

Reaching Higher

2012-02-06T18:18:00.000-08:00

When it comes to how we grow, one of the most importantfactors isn't what happens on the way, but how we react to it and let it shapeus as people; this is especially true when it comes to hardships and othertimes which change our situation dramatically, with the the most obvious choicebeing whether we adapt to it or rise to the level where we make it adapt to us.For most of my life, I've chose the latter, learning to live without theinternet and computer when circumstances took those away and learning to livewithout my bike when it was taken from me in the dead of night, never toreturn. I can safely say each of these decisions have made me a much strongerperson in the end and gave me much of the tools vital to becoming a properadult and assessing what's truly important in this world, but as much I enjoywhat I've fortunate enough to receive from these choices, the time has come inmy life where I want something more than just the ability to survive and makeit to the next day on a shoestring.

I don't wanna just survive anymore, I wanna thrive and enjoythings to their utmost, restrictions be damned.

I realize this more each time I get chucked off my scooterby some random rock or bump in the road, each time an external circumstancedeprives me of something I planned well in advance, but eludes me by theslimmest of margins, each time I fire up my trusty work comp and can't doeverything possible to research and develop my creative works, because I can'tafford the means to them yet, and each time it drips a little rage into myperception and makes me wonder what I can do to counteract this condition. How Ican generate income and build myself up to the point where I can attain thefreedom of choices I desire to expand my horizons and see things I never couldbefore?

What can I do to make things suck that much less?

I know well it starts with altering my current habits andbuilding better ones so I can move and improve as naturally as I breathe, aprocess sure to be full of much sweat, blood and tears given to make each areality. That said, I also know the more I commit to these choices, the morethey can work within me to lay a better foundation and build a better box forme to to think outside of, something I've admittedly lacked for a lot of my developmentuntil fairly recently. I used to fear this commitment and did what was neededto put it off, but after experiencing how much sticking to my studies hasallowed me to grow and gain the perspective I have now, the fear has began toweaken and I've become more willing to give myself to the grind and humilityneeded to make connections, build up resources and overcome the internalobstacles which convince to stay where I am and live life in moderatediscomfort.

As important as it is to be happy as you are and with whereyou are, so is it to recognize where you can improve and do what's needed tomake them reality.

For me, this means making and printing resumes, turning upjob offers and networking my backside off so that the one connection I may needcan come to me in my greatest hour of need and show me what I've searching for.I've already taken the baby steps towards these goals, now it's time for thebig, scary leaps to reach the other side. Without them, I'll never be reunitedwith my beloved bike, explore and develop the way I know I can with the neededresources and realize the future I've desired for myself all this time...atleast not at the rate I would like to happen.*laughs* I mean, hell, if Igot this far with what little I had back then, why can't I go even further? Ifanything, putting in the work and building myself up will help me better graspthat as pressing as my issues may seem now, they are nothing more than pebblesskipped across the pond, only to sink and become a part of the watery whole.

Just as retrospective lets us see that the things we thoughtwere life and death in our younger days were really just little things viewedunder the huge magnifying glass of our old perception.

Band of One

2012-01-31T17:28:00.000-08:00

Writing is something I have a deeply rooted relationship, and whenever I see exceptional pieces, I want to share them with those around and give them they attention they deserve. This is how I feel about a short story a friend wrote for me a while back, and having finally found in in my personal archives, would like to give them a much wider audience. To get you up to speed, this is the primer which spurred its creation(the title of which is this post's):

When construction began on the grounds on an long forgotten peoples, a terrible presence had been awakened. Those who were trained in the ancient ways set out to put this new found foe back to rest, banding together to travel across their world and gather the needed components. As the crew felled each component's guardian they, too, were felled. Some by greed, while others sacrificed themselves to make their victories possible, including their leader and the one person she felt herself grow closer to. One long year later she stands at the door to the beast's lair, component on her person and sword and shield in hand. With the hopes of her comrades laid upon her she steps inside, ready to give anything and everything she has to restoring this world and the lives of those affected.

I should warn you that the contents are not for kids and have strong Lovecraft-ian influences, so if that sort of violence, blood and gore isn't your thing, turn back now.

Still here? Good. Here it is, in it's natural state. Enjoy!

When construction began on the grounds on an long forgotten peoples, a terrible presence had been awakened. Those who were trained in the ancient ways set out to put this new found foe back to rest, banding together to travel across their world to gather the needed components. As the crew felled each component's guardian they, too, were felled. Some by greed, while others sacrificed themselves to make their victories possible, including their leader and the one person she felt herself grow closer to. One long year later she stands at the door to the beast's lair, component on her person and sword and shield in hand. With the hopes of her comrades laid upon her she steps inside, ready to give anything and everything she has to restoring this world and the lives of those affected.

I never thought I’d return to this place alive. But perhaps that’s the way of all things coming full circle. As I am the last survivor, so I should come to die where I once left unscathed. I can still see the foundations of the buildings and the rusted hulks of construction equipment sticking up out of the black mud. I can still remember the screams and garbled voices from the television as the reporters kept trying to tell us that it was just an earthquake and to just duck and cower in our hallways and door frames. Of course, who could have guessed what sort of heinous creature we had awoken with our greed and desire for expansion?

The children disappeared first. At first, people thought that it was due to irresponsible parents leaving their young to run amok in the aftermath of the destruction, but soon, there wasn’t anyone under the age of 15 left in the city. Even though we hid in shelters and only came out at night, it still found us. It took our young, our old, and our guardians, and left us alone together. If that seems like a misnomer, you might begin to understand better if you only knew the darkness that so easily takes root in the heart of Man.

I grasp the sword and shield in my hands. I only wish that I had a rifle or a handgun, but even if I did, I probably couldn’t use them very well at all. My breasts are bruised and tired, especially with this hard metal armor attached to the front and back of me. I took it off the body of Mark, my childhood friend who has always had my back, as he lay bleeding out from a hole in his femoral artery. It was his last wish that I take his armor and use it up against the last opponent. As I am the last adversary, so is this one my last fight.

The so-called “Component” doesn’t seem all that magical in the light of day. In reality, it seems all too small as I start to remember what awaits me inside. An impossible being bellowing with the sound of dying stars and eternity was a faded memory in my subconscious, but I shivered with the memory of flailing alien arms and tentacles the size of houses and the unearthly noise that made the world seem to go gray with pain. In light of what I face, how can this small pebble sized item help at all? It felt far too much like Dumbo’s feather and me being the fool who believed that it would count up against the Unspeakable Thing.

I remember the cryptic words from the Sage of New Utah as he rolled his 10 sided dice and spoke of visions of the future in his glass eyes, and know that it is all too possible that I’ve been tricked or fooled by someone who has probably gone mad from the sheer destruction of all that we knew to be in our modern world. But still, I press on. All of our hard work would mean nothing if I stopped now, and bitterly in my heart of hearts, I’m ruing the fact that the others have died while I still live on. I look down at my hands and remember how they looked when I was forced to strangle Marie to death when she tried to tie me up and sell me to slavers in exchange for a jug of clean water, something that has been so rare since the Awakening.

I pushed against the debris in the area I had mapped out with instructions from the Sage on a small greasy Post-it. The rocks gave way and started rolling in, revealing a perfectly circular entrance. As I touched the inside, it felt cool and solid like marble, and as I looked closer, I realized that the entire area was made of melted bone. The top half of a skull stared at me with sightless eyes. The bones were small, and I knew what had happened to the children. Something, and I knew just what something it was, had gobbled them up like a nightmare beast from a fairytale and used their bones to redecorate.

I walked along, feeling my shoes tapping along disturbingly as I made my way deeper inside. And suddenly, a faint echo came from the yawning beyond, and I could hear the vibration drawing towards me like a giant wave of sound. Stupidly, I tripped on an outstretched skeletal hand, landing hard on my side and feeling pain shoot from my brain to my toes. My flashlight fell to the floor, the batteries spinning out of it and cloaking everything in an inky darkness that seemed beyond black. I groped along the floor trying to find it, and felt myself starting to slip, sliding in the darkness at breakneck speeds. I was thankful for the plate mail, as it worked a bit like a sled and I figured I’d be somewhat all right if I kept my head up and my feet down. Suddenly, something hit my leg, sending me spinning round, and at that point, I must have hit my head because when I came to, I was lying still in the dark with a shooting pain in the side of my head. The atmosphere had changed, though, and I felt that the walls were breathing. A musky heat that I had never smelled before filled the air and I heaved with the alien feeling, retching evilly onto the floor. As I wiped my face, I suddenly noticed a faint glow around me. I felt inside of my pocket and the glow lit up the inside of my plate mail like a Chinese Lantern. It was the Component. I held it out and it lit up the corridor, dancing off of the walls. As it glowed, I could feel it pulling against me like a living thing. I looked around me and noticed that the walls had turned to dirt, only the dirt was warm, firmly packed as though a thing of great size and temperature had bored through the Earth itself. I shuddered, drawing onward.

As I moved along, the light began to flicker a little, and I noticed that the evil stench was growing more repugnant at every turn. I wrapped my long hair around my mouth and nose, holding back the gag that was starting in my throat. I could see something ahead, a coil of dark tree roots…no…. they were legs. Legs and…impossibly, more legs stretching and curling with a slow torpor of a well-fed abomination.

I crept forward, holding the Component tightly between my fingers, dampening the light.

But the light would not be stilled. It started to sing. And the unearthly roar that followed couldn’t keep it from shining out above it all, in a brilliant crystal voice. The tentacled arms started to move ferociously, wildly swinging in anger…or was it…pain?

One of the smaller tentacles touched the light, and as I saw them clearer, I realized that there were thousands of eyes, horrible eyes filled with intelligence, baleful hate, and an infinity that stretched across universes. I could feel it inside my mind and I realized that my ears had started to bleed, the drops of blood hitting the ground in staccato. It bellowed again, reaching slowly towards me, and I realized that it had taken on a strange color. Where it had been dark and vile brown before, its body was slowly turning pale, washed out and freezing in solid winter white as the Component showered it with brilliant light and sound.

It pulled back as it felt itself being changed from horrible skin and meat and bone into pure white stone. The ripping of flesh and sinew and bone was so loud as it tried to pull away from the light and flee. But it had already been infected and the song grew louder as the Component moved out of my hands and floated after the fleeing creature. I stepped around frozen tentacles in menacing half-flail, and continued on, sword raised.

I passed larger and larger stone tentacles, with blood and flesh steaming with heat, ripped off at the ends. The creature was losing limbs and fast, but still the Component traveled onward. Within a few minutes, the winding tunnels opened up to a giant cavernous pit, the likes of which could only be imagined within the nightmares of the damned. The body of the monstrosity filled the cavern to the point where it almost could be considered cramped, and as the Component flew upwards to illuminate the walls, I could see thousands of tunneled holes leading in, mine being one near the floor of the expanse. The tentacles pulled in and moved together like one limb, attempting to crush or cover the Component’s glow, but still it glowed brighter, the light creating a winged flare emanating from four points out of the center. The wings became larger and cast long shadows over the hideous expanse of the beast, the likes of which could only be described in the most unspeakable language from the pits of Hell itself. The tentacles moved aside to reveal a giant spined expanse shaped like a battering ram that opened impossibly long into a gaping mouth with at least five rows of razor sharp twisted fangs. A huge and unblinking eye sat in the middle of the mouth, buffered on all sides with teeth that glinted evilly in the light, and I could finally understand the screams that had only echoed before:

“Gan-‘nash-vlad, gafu-ndis garaksao S’knar’d!” The creature tried in vain to speak out against the light.

The singing in my head felt like words, softly caressing me with a question…

Who speaks against the unspeakable? Who will drive in the light to the darkest evil’s night?

And at that moment, I knew what had to be done.

I raised my sword, calling to the Component,

“It is I, who speaks to conquer the unconquerable, and I do it now!”

The light answered my challenge and bathed my sword in light. Markings of some sort wrote themselves up the tip of the blade through the hilt in hot magical scrawl. Many-segmented feathered wings of light grew out of the sides of the sword, covered in inscriptions as ancient as the creature I faced.

Screaming with all of my strength, I dove into the creature’s mouth, knowing that it would only take seconds for the teeth to close on my body, and I didn’t care. I only existed to shove the blinding heat of my sword into the creature’s eye and through its brain. I could feel my death coming, smelled my body ready for the pain it would bring me, and I pressed onward, pushing my body until I could feel the blood flowing freely from my eyes, ears, and nose. I could feel the creature screaming as I burrowed the sword into it’s eye and through its skull and knew that I had finally sealed its fate for good.

As I felt the teeth digging into my flesh, I could only smile and know it would all soon be over.

*
“Hey, wake up!”

The first thing I noticed was the absence of pain. And the second thing I noticed was the light. I was floating high above the world and I could see the stars twinkling with a brightness that I had never seen before. I blinked, shielding my eyes and saw the hands of my companions beckoning me to join them.

“Don’t worry about it. You did it and you did it right,” Mark ruffled my hair the way he always did, and kissed my cheek to let me know it’d be all ok.

“I’ve got a few people I’d like to introduce you to,” he said.

“But what…what about the creature?” I asked.

“You were able to seal Yoghshoggothl away, and that’s what matters. The world will now be safe for this eternity.”

I smiled, “I knew you wouldn’t leave me behind.”

He grinned in return, “After all, what are friends for?”

End

Story by Shauna M. Soldate

Breeding Better Habits

2012-01-24T19:27:00.000-08:00

One of things we don't often give thought to is how our habits shape the things we choose, whether they breed success or failure. I, for example, have become quite a night owl, and anything involving involving early morning rising is something I need to steel myself into, however slow and painful the process may be. Even when I was earning a fairly regular paycheck, I felt like I lacked the needed back-spine to build proper habits and hone the whole of my being into something better than I can imagine it to be, but for years I could never put a finger to what. As close shaves came at me more often I did everything in my power to rise above it and ensure I wasn't on the losing side of the struggle once it was all said and done. No matter how early I had to rise or how much work I had to put it, I was going to make the cut.

Little did I realize that by priming myself merely to make the cut, I set up to eventually miss it by a country mile once my luck ran out.

Why is this the case? I recently heard someone say that their father instilled in them that if they were on time, they were already late, a sentiment that didn't make much sense until I looked back at all the times I busted my hump to get some place in time, with that effort sometimes resulting in less than desirable repercussions. I can still remember the time I forced myself to stay awake through the night in order to make an early morning meeting, which resulted in me quickly phasing in and out of sleep whenever my mind wasn't being stimulated, something that surely did not reflect well on me as a potential leader of the new breed.

Just as I screwed myself, however, I know I hold the power to change all that and make something positive out of what I can do.

If I so chose, I could be more well dressed, more well spoken and well on my way to turning in the needed paperwork to get done what I need to get done, but in order to do that, I first had to take the chaos in my thoughts and sort it out, so that all of my energy had a place to go and is put right to work for me, not against me. As I teach to others about learning Japanese, one cannot grow outside the box if they have no box to think outside of, and it's high time I started building my box, even if I do suck at it. Not everyone starts with top shelf skills at something, and if they let that hold them back from even giving the effort, they can never take that first step.

I am the same, and must throw caution to the wind so I can take more first steps when they matter most.

Had I not done so in my youth, I would surely be much less of the man I am today and much less able to give what I can to the world around me, whether it's insight into the culture and language of Japan, the finer points of English or any other wisdom my travels may give me. I have seen both the mountaintop and lowest valleys of where my choices can take me, and realize more with each passing day how far I can go if I just take the chance and risk failure or success. With seeking employ and figuring out ways to generate income, especially, is this vital for me to learn and let become part of my daily thought process.

No one became well off by waiting for the riches to come to them, even for trust fund babies and those with great inheritances in front of them.

I'm already making strides towards this end, and must continue on, because in the end, when it comes to whether I'm on time for something or not, I want to be able to arrive early and well prepared so I can relax, see this world with a clearer conception and help others reach a similar plateau, if not greater.

The World Beyond The Screen

2011-12-31T22:19:00.001-08:00

Often, around New Years time, many become prisoners of the moment and make resolutions their will can't maintain, myself included. In fact, I didn't find the clarity to even make a resolution until I grew more secure in who I was and what I wanted, something my travels have given to me, little by little. This year, with everything I've gone through and all the growing I've been blessed with, I'm certain I've find one I'll commit to long after the moment is over and the normal world stares me in the face.

If there's anything crucial I've discovered as I explored the world around me, it's that despite how easy technology has made it to keep in touch with others, the ability to convey our thoughts to the people we meet everyday is still vital to becoming more connected to our world and creating the desire to contribute positivity however we choose to do it. The fact that my in person skills still need much sharpening has shown me the resolution I want to keep with me as a new year begins and I grow older and more aware of what I want to leave behind: to refine my handling of small talk and become more deft at face-to-face communication.

As it is for many out there, there've been people who've made my life suck, sometimes to the point of emotional breakdown (e.g a fetus-position-on-the-floor, make-it-stop kind of breakdown), and in those times, I wanted nothing more than remove myself from them and never see their face again. Technology has made it easier than ever to do just that and tune out the people who would bring us to this point of mental stress, but the truth is that no amount of advancement will completely eliminate that from our lives; in fact, because we've tuned it out so often, many have grown less able to deal with the daily stress of the day, which means it has much more power to shake us down to our foundation when it starts to pile on.

When I started to interact with the world outside my computer screen, it was like relearning how to talk, more so because I had much less time to mull over my response to someone separated by 3 feet of air, compared to a few miles of fiber-optics. As I see things like smartphones, video conferencing and social networking become more common place, I can notice this effect growing more and more prevalent as people isolate themselves from the world of purely physical interaction, finding more of their voice, sense of friendship and power coming from using technology to communicate.

As a writer, it fascinates me to witness the very way we connect to other change so dramatically, but it concerns me how people are losing touch with the base skills we use to forge relationships and become connected with those we care for. Even before my hands touched a keyboard, I knew that communication is only complete when we can see the person in front of us, their every tendency, tick and odor there for us to take in and analyze as needed. Phones, chatting and so on were only meant to be supplements to face-to-face interaction, but the greater dependency on these things to keep us in touch as our lives grow 'busier' is making them the main method and face-to-face, the supplement.

In time, the abilities to read someone's body movements, separate genuine criticism from harmful language, keep things in perspective and build our self esteem through contributing to the world around us falls and falls fast, as it did for me when I made the net my main method. As contradictory as it may be to use a blog to say this, people have to balance themselves out and make the world beyond the screen a bigger part of their day to day routine; the more we do that, the more we can appreciate what technology does for us and use it to its maximum potential.

I certainly won't say the process is easy, but all the experiences and knowledge my time away from the net gave me have let me know it's a worth while effort. Awkward communication is better than no communication at all, isn't it? Beats going through life with the desires of your heart falling silent, leaving you to wonder 'what if?' as you think about all you could've done, had it been given a voice

The Unforgiving Minute

2011-12-26T06:31:00.001-08:00

Recently, in one of my lazy days roaming the net, I came upon this question: Why are adults so lonely when they're so social as kids? This became far pertinent given that all the new tech meant to help us keep in touch isn't doing much to help the cause, even as it becomes more integrated into our daily life.

This isn't to say it's a whole new problem each of us struggle to grasp; I mean I was an awkward loner way before my first time on the net, and the only thing it did was connect me to other awkward loners. It certainly has done much to change the way people define a friend, a lover and a relationship, but really, the thing it made easier for people to do was the same thing they did when they grew up and got into their established 9 to 5's: keep perceived threats from laying a finger on the us that lies behind the mask made of carefully construed words, stories and grooming.

Even before color and sound, people knew the power of lighting, make up and training to transform a plain Jane into the next big image for people to adore, revere and throw their money at, like a Jane Fonda, Clark Gable or Beyonce. With the phone, folks had to work hard, if they wanted to keep the content of their words and the tone of their voice from revealing the hidden truth, the computer making that process even easier, since it's a lot tougher to read too deep into words on a screen without your mind leading you down twisty roads and dead ends. Naturally, this breeds questions like 'Why would people want to hide who they really are?' in the back of the mind, those thoughts growing stronger when a deception is uncovered and the desire to avoid the hurt increases.

Before, people simply learned to suck it up and hide their intent behind small, vaguely worded statements-or what my Damage Estimation teacher calls 'weasel words'; nowadays, the relative space and anonymity the net allows leads people to unleash how they feel in the heat of the moment without fear of repercussions, since few are knowledgeable enough to trace the origin of someone's statement (which is very possible, as is them using that info to impersonate you and get stuff from the people you've worked with). That, paired with cultural considerations reinforcing the behavior-like the lone maverick mindset valued in the States and the distaste for flow disruption linked to Japan-make it highly desirable to tune out the outside world and condense the nonsense. This keeps folks from getting too close and having a clean look at the real us, whether they want to help or hurt it.

To ensure people never have the time to get close, we do different things to look busy and show them we can't engage them in a meaningful way (See the guy who answers a call when someone says “Hi, how are you doing?' to them). All the while this creates the 'I don't wanna be alone, but I don't wanna risk being hurt again' cycle within us, which takes us on a long, winding road to the same spot we were at when we took our first step. Ultimately, we need to be a friend in order to find any, and that means opening ourselves to the chance of getting hurt and taking on what I call the unforgiving minute-or however long the moment of action lasts. For those who've dipped into the poet's realm, they'll know the phrase from Rudyard Kipling's If, and for me, the line that comes from is best viewed like so.

“If you can fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds of speaking without pretense,
Yours is the Earth and all that's in it”

In this case, the unforgiving minute is when we get to know someone in order to better understand them, a moment which easily veers towards false personae being brought out to leave a positive impression and maintain it, should we ever meet them again. It is a scary thing to chance that kind of hurt with anyone, but is the alternative of never connecting to those we speak with worth avoiding all the potential hurt? For those who bear deep emotional scars, the answer is often an emphatic yes, but having walked that path for many years-on top of feeling its ups and downs-I'd like to pose this question: is avoiding the unforgiving minute worth abandoning the chance to know life's riches? For me, the answer has been and is sure to stay: What're you, nuts? No! Life's too short for that crap

My question to you: how would you fill The Unforgiving Minute?

Could It Have Been an Echo

2011-12-08T20:22:00.001-08:00

I saw this recently and thought a lot about what the person behind the original poem was trying to say. After a bit of work and editing, I created my own translation. Here it is, along with the original poem in it's original language, for those curious

こだまでしょうか[Kodama deshou ka]
(Could It Have Been an Echo?)

「遊ぼう」っていうと ['Asobou' tte iu to]
「遊ぼう」っていう。['Asobou' tte iu]
(If you say 'Let's play'
I say 'Let's Play')

「ばか」っていうと ['Baka' tte iu to]
「ばか」っていう。['Baka' tte iu]
(If you say 'You're dumb'
I say 'You're Dumb')

「もう遊ばない」っていうと ['Mou asobanai' tte iu to]
「遊ばない」っていう。 ['Asobanai' tte iu]
(If you say 'I'm not playing no more'
I say 'I'm not playing')

そうして、あとで [Soushite, Ato de]
さみしくなって、 [Samishikunatte,]
(And then, after that
I get all lonely)

「ごめんね」っていうと ['Gomen ne' tte iu to]
「ごめんね」っていう。['Gomen ne' tte iu]
(Then, if I say 'I'm sorry'
you say 'I'm sorry')

こだまでしょうか、[Kodama deshou ka]
いいえ、だれでも。[Iie, daredemo]
(Could it have been an echo?
Nuh-uh, it was all of us)
-Misuzu Kaneko

*language note: 　さみしく[samishiku] is likely the author's intended mispronunciation of さびしい[sabishii], the word for being lonely

Cruising on the River

2011-11-08T18:44:00.001-08:00

When I hear stories of people who own their own car and livein their own home before they even turn 20, I feel as if I should be movingmuch more rapidly with my growth than I am-especially when I still don't havethose things at the age of 24. That said, I always try to keep in mind thatlife and all it's wonders only happens once and many of the experiences we wishto forgo in order to become something more are experiences we can't really getback. Think about all the pros who skipped their last years of college play toenter their sport's top ranks and the experiences they gave up and can neverhave again, left only to wonder what if as they deal with the cold, criticaland contract-litigating world of being a pro; would you give up the money inthose first pro years just to go back and live those last days of college anddiscovering who you really are?

It wasn't long after I graduated high school that I startedto think about all the dances I skipped out, all the school functions I neverwent to because I thought them foolish, the graduation ceremony I skipped outon because I didn't think it worth my time. Those continue to haunt me andremind me to appreciate where I am in my stage of adulthood, which is surelypart of why I've been going so slow in becoming a proper man.

Despite that, the years have let me see that my decision wasthe correct one, as the experiences my path has allowed me let me become a farbetter person than if I jumped head first into the world of college and thereality that waits beyond it (to be perfectly honest, I sucked pretty hardcorein high school and I if I went to college straight away, I know I would'vestuck in that mindset for a long time). The clubs I've been apart of let me seehow important it is to be connected in both the on and offline worlds, and mypersonal development has shown me how much I need to be the change I wish tosee, especially in the professional capacity, or in other words, building thebox I need to think outside of.

As I face the world of student loans and other forms of debtI'll spend my life repaying, I feel much more ready to jump into it and take iton than ever before, a thing I never would've conceived when I set foot outsideBellflower High School as a student for the last time. I'm grateful for allthat's happened to me, for all of it has given me the tools and the mindset Ineed to be a proper man for both myself, those close to me and the generationthat will come after I pass on.

Don't get the wrong idea, I definitely should've had a job,car and all that by now, but a crucial aspect of who I want to be is livingwith minimal regret, the way beloved did when she went drifting on thosemountain roads. I can safely that I'm doing just that and know that if my timewere to come right now, I would be happy with who I've become and what I'veleft behind. Should I be fortunate enough to live a number of years beyond thiswriting, I seek to keep building on this and enjoy my life as it is while Icontinue to build towards the lofty vision held in my mind's eye-which includesmaking $2K a week on average at whatever I do.

It's interesting to live a time like this, when the worldseems to be on the edge of change and the standards of living are shifting asrapidly and unpredictably as the tides-especially concerning how the gov'tlends a hand to those it governs-and illustrates what having clear eyes can dofor navigating unclear times. I wonder how those who rushed into the world ofadults feels about their decision and dealing with things that even well offpeople barely manage in their 30s and 40s.

Though I know I'll face many of the same troubles, I feel asif my time has laid a solid foundation for the path I must travel to reach mygoals and given me the passion and memories I need to make my way through thehardships and toil I must confront. I certainly won't be thinking too hardabout what could've been, had I just held off a bit and built myself up beforeentering the next phase of my life.

Weening Myself Off the Safety Net

2011-10-31T17:14:00.000-07:00

Recently, I've had 3 instances that caused to question howreliant I was on external circumstances to guide me where I want to go. The 1^stcame when I used my phone to help me find an out of the way PC repair place,only to find that it lead to a spot blocks before the actual location, whichlead to a ½ hour of searching to determine where it was. The 2^nd washeading to take the last bus home, but finding that the service's website saidthere were no more coming; after a few minutes of the bus not coming at theappropriate time, I was getting ready to ride my scooter 4 miles home when itfinally came in. The 3^rd came during a chat with one of myclassmates, where I learned that at the age of 18, he left home with only hisbike and a bag of clothes and built himself up to point where he, with a helpof some roommates, got a job, a car& a decent sized house they collectively pay $2K on a month by the age of20.

Aside from feeling like I was going a bit too slow, I beganto examine how much I put it on things I couldn't really control to get what Iwanted, especially over the course of my life when I felt limited in how Icould rise up in the world. It was thanks to some friends that I got toexperience life changing events, events that I would've surely given up on ifthey didn't talk me into it. For example, if my artist friend didn't convinceme to give Americorps a try, I would've convinced myself I wasn't cut out to bea tutor at that level(and before that, I almost did).

On the romantic side of life, I've always prided myself ontaking risks and doing things I never would've done otherwise, like riding 8miles over a hill, inches away from traffic and through narrow, craggysidewalks to reach the murky green waters of Long Beach. On the practical side,however, I always thought I didn't have the right stuff to do whatever job wasat hand and couldn't summon the courage to even try in most cases.

I know it's because of this my life isn't as rich andfulfilling as it could be (which is saying a lot, considering how much lifeI've lived and how much I gained over the years), and that if I could overcomeit, so much was waiting out here for me. As I see it, a big step towards thatis doing what my classmate did at the age of 18 and move forward regardless ofif I have the means then and there to lead the kind of life I desire.

Personally, I hate to fail at anything, and this goes doublefor when it involves people relying on me to get things done, so I'm alwaysweary of anything that sends me into situations far beyond what I thought I could do-as I've done so before andfell just short of getting it finished. Perhaps when I accept failure as another part of life, I'll be able todeal with it quickly and let it strengthen me for the road ahead, so I may helpothers do the same.

Learning to Rise by Letting Myself Fall

2011-10-11T21:28:00.001-07:00

When life gets hard and the people around you only seem to make it harder, it's easy to let hatred seep in and steer you towards negativity-I should know, I've let it happen on multiple occasions, including when I couldn't do class work for a month because I waited for my sister to get the computer screen she promised me, which she never did. I can't even count how many times people have let me down by making a promise, then forgetting about it, nor have I forgot how much it pissed me off, but in all honesty, for all the stuff I can make happen on my own, I really should be mad at myself-and I am. For years I blamed the crap I went through on other or people and felt like life was out of my control, specifically when it went to crap, like when I rolled my ankle and was never taken to the hospital, instead dipping it in ice water and hoping it healed properly.

The bitterness from all that colored my perception in drastic ways and made me hesitant to ever fully take on the great unknown. I didn't think my heart could take that kind crushing disappointment and failure, so I never let myself be open to that even being a possibility. However, as I work towards being a proper adult, I'm finding that to grow greatly, one must accept falling well short as one of many things there to help them grow how they wish. More and more I'm seeing that when I let this become part of my life, I'll unearth the thing I've been on the edge of for a long, long time.

I say edge because I've been a lazy, structureless slacker for quite some time, getting an intense amount of knowledge and growth in short bursts, and never with the will and stubbornness needed to set up and stick to a certain schedule. Despite all that, I've become knowledgeable in a bunch of different fields, the years bringing my focus to writing, English and the Japanese language. When I began teaching the language, I was how I imagine many beginning students are: an insufferable prick.

As I learned more about the language and the culture that powers it, I discovered that not only did it give me a place to direct my energy, but it, along with writing, became my savior-the thing that lifted me up when I fell deep into the emotional darkness. Because of that, I worked to use my skills to help others gain the knowledge I struggled and scratched for all these years in as relate-able a way as I can manage.

Now, I’ve reached the point where in order to take the next big step, I'll need to find the guts to form a routine and stick to it so I can learn to evolve from it, the box from which to think out of, so to speak. Will I become a another brick in the wall? At this point, with all the crap I've managed to get over, I'd just be happy living a fairly regular life that fulfills me where I need to be, with any success I hit on as result being a nice bonus. If I fail, so what? As long as I'm still kicking, I still have a chance to make something positive and leave something wonderful behind when my time comes.

Really, that's been at the heart of a lot of stuff I do, even something as small as giving someone a quarter so they can pay their bus fare. Yes, there's a ton of messed up stuff going on under our noses each day, but I don't like just moaning and groaning about it, I want to see some solutions, however flawed they may be. This is the standard I've held both myself and others to over the years, 'cause to me, there's plenty of hot air going around and not enough stuff to put that air to work, which I want to correct however possible.

Even now, where I've become significantly saltier about how the world works, I've never believed in solely spreading around negativity and sought to live a life of balance, both emotionally and financially. If one only lets themselves see what goes wrong, they can never see what goes right, a way of life I wish no one would willingly subject themselves to.

Behind the Pen: A Peek into my Younger Days

2011-10-10T17:39:00.000-07:00

What were you like when you were young(er)?

In my elementary days I was quite a bookworm(and given I was tutored by Hooked on Phonics at a young age, that much should be expected), voraciously reading any and everything I could get my mitts on-a trait still strong within me to this day. I also had quite the acting bug, and did a few school plays, including one where I played a dim footballer not only for my school, but also for one who's own couldn't make it that night.

It was around the end of 6th grade that I entered what I like to call The Smartass phase of my personal growth. I was so irritating in my general 'Did you know (x)?' behavior and did very little to endear myself to my school's society, even getting into a few fights here and there(that didn't last very long, mind you, one only going to one punch before I wept *laughs*). As it is with many boys of that age, I was also very awkward around females and found myself incapable of speech around those I found strongly appealing, including when I was threading my way through a crowd during the school festival and emerged on the other side hands first, those same hands landing on the warm and firm backside of a female classmate-one I was very attracted to then, and thankfully had the where-with-all not to squeeze *laughs*

One thing I'll always remember about my time then, though, would definitely be how dependent and needy I was on others to get what I wanted and needed, growing quite volatile when those I turned to flaked and did not fulfill what I expected of them. That neediness made me quite unfit for many kinds of meaningful relationships, and in fact ended two of them when things went south(one I ended when the girl wanted a 3 way with her male companion, and the other she ended when she no could longer financially maintain it).

Had my most recent beloved not perished doing what she loved, that neediness would've placed great strain on her, as well, as it did when she was out of contact for months at a time and left me wondering what had happened to her and if she still thought me worth the effort-one incident I remember her telling me being her encounter with a fellow drifter who wanted her to give it up and be one with him instead, who she turned down and left on the roadside.

Her passion and burning intensity for her craft instilled a lot of new feelings within me, spurring me to become stronger and more strong on my own so that I, in a day that would never come, would meet her and show her the kind of man she deserved to have as her beloved. I've grown greatly since her passing and was able to realize that if I wanted to be a lover who would fortify the one my next beloved instead of weakening, I had to be strong and capable by my own hand with my own motivation.

I certainly can't say the process has been easy, as almost every woman I've held interest in- and even those I don't!- either had a beloved of their own or had their own issues and concerns to work out. I would love to say I've left all those flaws in the dust, but they're still a part of who I am today, a fact I've come to accept more and more with the passage of time as I grow into a proper man. Still a bit of a smartass, still a bookworm, still a bit more reliant on others for what I need than I should be, but those traits let me realize I'm still human and still have room to grow and improve, both for my sake and the sake of those I care for. I know I'll gain employ and know I'll make the future I desire regardless of obstacles, and I'm without doubt when someone is there beside me, we will make each other a better individual and a strong unit. I would only hope she can endure some of my more unusual traits and fancies, though *laughs*

A Different Approach

2011-04-05T19:37:00.000-07:00

Becoming a proper adult is one of the most difficult things for those from both affluent and penny-pinching households, with the utmost humbling step being admission of our limitations. After all, who likes to admit they’re been in error with their approach, especially when they’re been doing it that way with considerable success? The human ego at once shields us from the sense of despair they create and prevent us from ever learning from them, in some instances to the detriment of both them and those around them. If and when that time comes, the courage must be summoned to face up to their shortcomings, so they may begin discovering the way out of this mire. For me, that time has been long coming, and I’ve become ever cognizant that despite the things, friends and experiences my methods have garnered me over the years, they are not yet the habits of someone worthy of being regarded as a man, and should I seek to walk the many rows a man must walk before they can call him a man, my habits must be taken up to the next level.

I freely admit to being a spoiled slacker in many aspects of life, confident that my way would let me create the kind of life I desire. Although I’m still building funds to move out on my own, my methods have lead me to many wonderful people and created experiences shaping me down to my core, including my time as a tutor for AmeriCorps. With those successes, however, have come failures and shortcomings which still burn in me to this day, reminders of how much I dropped the ball and allowed sure shots to slip through my grasp. Yes, incidents like failing tests, alienating myself from those I call friend and losing things vital to my way of life have taught me much the value of good habits and being more understanding towards others and the world around me, but I’m certain that I have what it takes to build grand and continued success, in both tangible terms and in terms of emotional growth. In order to tap into that, however, my priorities must be rearranged so that things building towards a better tomorrow become reality and the constructive habits I have now can go from being acts I enact in order to slip through to being as natural as breathing.

Of course, to become a proper adult, one must be able to define what a proper adult is, since they aren’t all people who snub their nose at cartoons and riding on the swings(as most tend to associate with adulthood). In my estimation, a proper adult is sure of who they are, knows the path they walk and go beyond what needs to be done for both themselves and those they serve, along with the obvious financial stability, circle of supportive friends willing to challenge them and ability to understand the wants and needs of others with minimal need to ask. I would be a fool if think I could ever make this world function as I see fit, even if I had all the world’s wealth and power in my grasp. No, to reach places otherwise unreachable, I must be able to understand and work within the flow of what’s around me, both by my hand and with the aid of those willing to travel beside me. To me, life will always like a river-sometimes gentle and others violent-and I know few who’ve made the most of their journey along it by trying to work against its current.

Video Game Plot Development

2011-03-27T01:42:00.000-07:00

This is one of my old opinion pieces that I recently came upon, and thought it interesting enough to bring back to this blog. Please read and, if you feel the need to do so, comment.
I believe different mediums have different ways of telling stories, and with games, it should feel like your affecting how the story flows and goes; you shouldn't have to be placed on a set path that the writer has set up for a story. 'cause no matter how twisty it may be, no matter how realistic the dialogue may be, and no matter how complex and wrinkled the plot is, if you don't affect how it goes or how it progresses, its not gonna be a good game plot.

I think developers and writers are barely getting a grasp on how the video game medium can truly make a story that much more emotional and that much more personal of a gaming experience. Say you're about to go into a big boss battle, and the first things the boss does...is infect your best friend in the party with a vicious poison that destroys him/her from the inside out, and then he/she/it starts to run off to become even stronger and acquire more forces and more power.

Do you try and treat your friends wounds and let the boss run off to become stronger than he already is, or do try and encourage your friend to stand and fight alongside you as you stop the boss in his tracks, hopefully killing him in time to get your friend the treatment (s)he need after the fight?

And say someone in your party told you before hand told you that (s)he saw someone that looks very similar to your best friend supplying the boss with info on your teams strengths and weaknesses, and that (s)he plans to betray you at the very near end of the battle, siding with the boss and using the very skills you taught him against you.

Do you trust in the informer and let him/her die right then and there? Or do you try and save him/her, hoping that the informer got the wrong person in their sights? And you have about, oh say, 30 seconds and falling before the boss gets away to make up your mind and 30 minutes before the poison courses through him/her and kills him/her, and the nearest medical center is about 2 minutes away from your 20-30 minute long boss fight.(The more effective you more, the quicker you can get your friend to the center, obviously. And remember, this is all in real time.)

Yeah, very tough and very complex choice you have to make, and that's the kind of choice you should have in a video game plot. One that affects where the story goes, one that dramatically impacts how your character develop externally and internally, and one that you make, not the games writer. Or perhaps I'm wrong...

Eternally Left Undone

2011-03-08T17:44:00.000-08:00

When it comes to debilitating fear, few things generate more of it than death, one of them being speaking in public. Like speaking in public, death strips us down to our truth, bares it for all to see and leaves us uncertain of what will happen after the fact. Its inevitability only compounds the fear to the point of making avoiding it as long as we can highly desirable. Having lost someone close and seen its face far too often to count, the matter is never too far from my thoughts, never easy to face, no matter how I grow and mature. Naturally, the ‘I don’t wanna die!’ factor is present in this, but part of it comes from the fear of leaving things important to me forever undone, a fear I dread more than anything I could conceive.

Even the healthiest and most well protected of us can be ended at any moment, leaving our creations and our legacy to those who will come after we depart. Perhaps I’m a fool for think these things at my age, but the thought of passing on without offering my experiences and knowledge to this world is all encompassing, leading me to lead a life of minimal regrets. Much of that is tied to my desire to bring clarity into the lives of others and making sure I communicate well and honestly, and to do that, I must make peace with not only death, but also the chance that I may not accomplish all I set out to before my time comes. As someone more studied than I once said, “When you die, your inbox will still be full”. I’m sure the more this dawns on me, the more I free myself to create things that endure the ages.

It’s true I won’t know what I’ll leave behind until I’m gone, but I would like my funeral to be filled with those I come across and helped bring clarity and understanding. Even if I could only do that for one person during my lifetime, I’d be able to leave this world in peace, knowing that one person was able to see the light enshrouded by darkness. Without this, we are prone to having the fear of death cripple us from leading a full life, a fate worse than death, itself. When I’m drawing into me my final breath, I don’t ever want my final words to be “I blew it”; I want to tell those beside me in my final hours that I gave my life to doing what I loved and did things I would be glad to have them pass on to the next generation. After all, it’s when we can live in peace with things left undone that we free ourselves to do the most our minds and bodies will allow.

Plain to See

2011-02-22T16:24:00.000-08:00

They say honesty is the best policy, and that maxim is what I’ve adhered to in dealing with the world around me. Part of that honesty, however, involves maintaining secrets entrusted to me by many I’ve come across, which has led to me honing the skills, layering and storytelling ability demanded of crafting a believable lie. Crucial to that are minimizing the tells which reveal the lie for what it is and risk assessment of both sticking to the lie and coming clean when the pressure’s on, since the ‘lesser’ evil is the more desirable evil in the long run. With enough practice, it’s possible to have the truth hidden in plain sight, even if it stares them in the eye as they pass it by each day. Lately, though, I’ve pondered in depth if that kind of skill is what I want to let define my success and my growth as a human being, given how corrosive it is to the bonds we all share.

I will freely admit guilt to much dishonesty towards family and friends, much of which, as of this writing, I plan to take with me into my final days. This is mostly to minimize needless chaos, but part of me feels as if I lack the skill to concisely express the truth of my heart with voice alone. This is surely due to lack of practice and the fact that I haven’t deemed myself worthy of the truth, the whole truth or nothing but the truth. I’m truly fortunate to have friends willing to show this to me, and I know because of my actions I must do all I can to earn that right and keep earning it, even if it’s as trying to build and easy to level as a house of cards. I can think of few things weaker and easier to undo than a relationship based on mistrusts and lies, and that’s what I never want to subject those I care for to.

Although I’m an open book about much of my life, I always keep in mind the risks people take when they make themselves vulnerable, as well as the implied trust that kind of act involves. Only when there’s an atmosphere free of deceit can people feel safe opening the locks to their life’s classified files for others to scrutinize. I know that whether I seek to be a great psychologist or a great friend, this is what I must create when I speak with others, and that starts with demonstrating a lack of ulterior motives. How can anyone feel comfortable enough to share their most sensitive info if they think those they speak to will expose or blackmail them, if not worse? Those feelings are why I refuse to let deception and falsehoods become the core of my interactions, for those who live by fooling others are always left to wonder just who’s playing them for a fool.

Facing the Inevitable

2011-02-16T12:27:00.000-08:00

At the turn of the new millennium, people were worried that the computer systems couldn’t handle the change in years and simultaneously crash, sending the world into chaos. In 2012, it’s feared the sun will emit EMPs (Electro-Magnetic Pulses, if you need a refresher)across the globe that knock out all electricity, sending the world into chaos, along with bringing the end of civilization as we know it. At the root of all this is the fear of being plunged into a situation we have little control of, a fear of being lead to death. No matter what form it may take, something is reminding us about the impending end of our lives, forcing the core of our character to surface for all to see. While we cannot control the fact we will die, we can control how we react to it and let it dictate the path our lives take, as well as who it affects.

Fear of these sorts of things has fueled an endless amount of bad decisions in people’s lives, all in order to stave off the fear of the Grim Reaper’s cold grip, and its ability to take all we love and care for away from us. To live a full life with minimal to no regrets, this is the kind of fear we must shed, for this is the kind of fear which will eternally cripple us from reaching higher and taking the risks needed to make it reality. I’ve traveled countless miles, broken both arms and lost someone close to my heart on the path to shedding such emotions, and all of it has helped strengthen my ability to walk forward and view this world for what it is. Though I’m not where I wish to be just yet, I’m more than happy with my life, and know that all that I do will be what I leave behind for those that come after me. Every day I seek to leave behind something wonderful, giving them the courage to push ahead in the face of uncertainty and live a life they would be proud of, regardless of what may come to pass.

Conspiracy theories run the gamut of logic and moral pushing ideas threaded by circumstantial evidence, but all of them link back to the idea that we are in control of nothing in our lives and that our every move and thought is planned ahead for us. Ever since my life changed, I’ve learned to view this concept as complete and utter garbage that no one should condemn themselves to. Even if one of these turns out to be true, that doesn’t stop the individual from picking themselves up and rising against the string being pulled, using their own strength to create their own destiny. In my eyes, nothing is viler than allowing your life to be diluted by events that may or may not come to pass, the beauty and wonder that life presents to you flying by all the while. When my time comes, it’s my desire to enjoy it from my back porch, finishing off my best work yet while falling into slumber in a reclining office chair.

A Single Step

2011-02-12T00:39:00.000-08:00

Part of being human is making mistakes, whether it’s stumbling as we learn how to walk or mixing up crucial dates and missing them altogether. That’s all a part of growing up, and anytime it happens, the stuff we’re made of is exposed for everyone to see, even that creepy guy in the corner no one talks to. After the fact, we always think about what we would’ve done differently if we had a little more sense or mentally whip ourselves for whatever it was we did. Until someone knows enough to bend the fabric of time to their will, we can’t undo the past, we can only learn from it and do what we can to make amends. Doing so involves developing the capacity to forgive, more specifically the capacity to forgive ourselves and allow ourselves to move forward.

My own life has been rife with errors in judgment, many of which I’ve found difficult to forgive myself for, like the day I allowed myself to miss a key test during my first semester at community college in order to help my mother’s friend. I know the best thing to do is seek the positive and laugh it off, but part of knows I should’ve been more firm, more aware and more certain of my aim. For countless years I placed the blame on my shoulders and did what I thought was needed to ensure it never repeated, even when it did. As much as I believe in making your own luck and taking hold of your own life, I’ve grown more cognizant of that which I cannot change, that which I must confront and demonstrate forgiveness. Naturally, something this important won’t come easy, but this act will surely shed some of the weight I bear so I can move further ahead to becoming a proper man.

As life has continued to show me, when you cannot or will not demonstrate forgiveness, it becomes a greater challenge to progress, as if you’re sticking your feet in detergent boxes and pouring more and more concrete in them as you walk. Yes, some things are hard to give that kind of leniency, more so when it removes something irreplaceable, but is carrying that kind of ire towards it worth rending ourselves unable to grow? To me, even with much of what I’ve poured my heart and soul into being ripped away, I don’t ever want the answer to be yes, nor should it be for anyone else. Harboring grudges only corrodes us from within and blinds us to the truth of a person’s being, only letting us see the person they were then, in their time of darkness. The humility and willing to understand others forgiveness demands is the rock that shatters the glass holding this image, falling away to reveal a path meant for us to walk; a path towards joy and inner peace, our joy and inner peace.

Behind the Pen: First Crush

2011-02-02T18:35:00.000-08:00

Part of being a writer, in my view, is being able to take your life experiences and those of the people pass theirs on to you and craft them into prose, ideally the kind you'd want to see in the magazines and headlines. To keep a personal record of some of the events that shaped my skills, I'll post any responses to questions I receive which I consider to be something people would like to see about who I am, and perhaps help others realize that, although their experiences are unique, there are others out there who've went through something similar and are willing to lend their hand to you in aid. To begin, here's my response to this question:

Who was your first crush and what was it like?

My first general crush was, as I've told friends in my past, Hikaru Utada. When I first saw her on the cover of Sakura Drops they used in EGM(http://ow.ly/3G74N) . To this day it captivates me and seeing it always rekindles those feelings I know have a 1/1,000,000 chance of being fulfilled(given that I have who connections to her whatsoever & that we live oceans apart, coupled with the fact it was-and still is mere infatuation, as it is with many girls that capture my attention *laughs*)

As for those I've met in the real world, there was one female I ran into at a book store a while, back when I still wore those farmer-style overalls as part of my everyday wardrobe. I was secretly trailing her around the store while I was thinking of something to say to her so I could introduce myself. Finally, with all the courage my budding heart could muster, I approached her and said "You smell pretty", quickly walking off in the other direction afterwords.

I've had practice since then talking to pretty women-although not without some struggle to put my thoughts together in a way that don't sound like I'm reaching for straws trying to find some way to relate to the person in front of me*laughs* The practice had helped me calm my nerves considerably and have made friends with several intelligent and lovely young females like yourself(mostly online, though, but hey, baby steps), all whom have helped me expand my world view and grow considerably as a human being, as well as in other aspects.

I am grateful each day that they would consider me intelligent and trustworthy enough to communicate with me in such a fashion, a reminder that I must also do what I can to provide them with the same so that when I have the means to approach someone I'm interested in, I do it as someone who wishes to know more about who they are as well as someone who could use a shoulder to cry one when the time comes.

Through the Open Window: A Manifesto for Approaching Language Study with an Open Mind

2011-01-27T15:40:00.000-08:00

(This is a cleaned up version of a Manifesto I wrote for one of my English classes, the previous which got me a 98/100 from my very tough grading teacher, hopefully a sign of the paper's overall polish. Though it may rub you the wrong way at some points, please enjoy it and let it reveal my take on language study)

The language were raised with is shaped by grammar, colored by vocabulary & powered by culture, a word strongly tied to the stuffy and snooze-inducing aspects of our world-for example, the guy who turns his nose at those not into musicals or fine wines.

However, as culture can be manifested by a tea ceremony, so can it manifest through Causal Fridays & riding the bike trail to Border's with your friends every Saturday, all 3 a way of doing things cultivated through shared values & beliefs. When grammar, vocabulary & culture work in sync, our thoughts gain life & let us interact with the world how we want to, even if we've never seen it before.

You may be wondering how this relates to learning a language, and to that I say this: In understanding this you not only uncover the key to learning a language, but the key to learning it as your language.

Doing so a whole lot more than just stringing words together to try and sound like you know which way is up, and anyone who's told you otherwise cannot communicate. At all.

To fully learn a language means identifying and dealing with key obstacles impeding our understanding of communication, no matter what those obstacles may be. Among them, the first and most disabling block we encounter is how we perceive ourselves.

The desire to meet a requirement or immerse ourselves in a culture unlike our own drives us to take up a foreign language, and those consuming that culture have no clue about either their bloodline hails from or the one they grew up with. This leads to a constant state of emotional flux the more they absorb about their chosen language

If this is our reason for learning, your perceptions will endlessly stunt your growth. You will not fully grasp the knowledge you seek until you have roots to grow from, a lens to bring this world into focus. To study foreign cultures without knowing your own is like trying to whip up Sushi when you don't know a single way to make rice or trying to fix your car after spending 0 time studying how it works; you can't do it without having a foundation to work from.

Laying roots in your own culture lets you define your own cultural identity instead of allowing a given culture to shape you as it sees fit. Yes, it's true molds were made to be broken, but it's impossible to the mold when you have no mold to break out of.

Ask yourself who you are & find your roots; seek out & study the history of your race, your lineage & your hometown; asses the direction your life is going & decide if that direction is the right direction.

Know yourself, and the world will open all it's doors to you.

The opening of these doors reveals all those waiting behind them, each with greater complexity than any literature would dare to put on the page. Think of the the Valley Girl versed well in the art of the sitar, the philosopher who religiously watches Money Night RAW and the Conservative taking a staunch pro stance for Gay Marriage & Abortion

If not that, think about if someone showed you the phrase 'Namaste' and expected you to grasp when, where and how to say it in that instant, without any further study. To do so is absurd, and seeing the intricacies of a culture's people will be beyond us until we stop relying on 2nd hand info and dive into it ourselves.

Then, after we do that and are firm in who we are, we must zero in on how we view those speaking the language we study and learn the events that crafted their modern society.

The spread of language is driven by both rapid globalization and the subsequent spread of foreign arts, media & entertainment to planetary nook and cranny, from Princess Mononoke to Capoeira, from Vodka to Lasagna, from the Mona Lisa to Keyboard Cat; consequently, this process also leads to new ways of marginalizing the people of those countries, some of which is enforced through the classes teaching their chosen language.

When an American English teacher tells their international students 'Americans are the fat, ignorant gunslingers your parent imagine them to be' that will be the image firm in the students' minds during their interactions with Americans, blinding them to how the person actually is. The same goes for media that reinforces those ugly stereotypes, such as gangster movies did to the public perception of Italians & Italian Americans.

Around these perceptions, new cliques and social circles are established, crafting their own rules & regulations based on their skewed views of the culture they so adore, such as skater groups who view surfer-style attire and terms like 'radical' to be the sole truth of skating, ignorant of it's evolution and reach across cultures. That said, it's not impossible to see the world beyond its media portrayal, but that can only happen if we choose to look behind the mask of their culture & dig deeper. Just below the surface is where we see the struggles the people face between embracing modern ways and upholding tradition, as Spain faces with bullfighting & the younger generation wishing to save the bulls.

If you wish to see all the richness & diversity it has to offer you, delve into its past & be aware of the news shaping it's present, then discuss it with those of the country. Let them impart their cultural understanding so you can better define your own. Search within these complexities, and you'll an abundance of ways to break the ice.

Study the culture thoroughly & let the people's views enrich your own, even if you disagree with your discoveries.

Soon, after at least a basic understanding of their culture is accomplished, the final, most intimidating obstacle of all to break through presents itself: the fear of falling on our face.

We rely on it to keep us from making life risking decisions-like crossing an old rope bridge suspended high above the rapids- but it's that same fear stopping us from doing something as simple as saying 'Hi' to a stranger.

Remember, though, that all the friends we have now started out as strangers.

Besides, it's almost a given you'll make some blunders in speaking the language, presenting yourself to native speakers & knowing the inner workings and day-to-day aspects of the culture, no matter if you learn from 1 book or 100. Nobody is above that, and that is how we come to better gasp our place within it, as well as what it means to more fully take part in it.

A pianist could never appreciate what good sessions sound like if they never hit a few sour notes, a chef could never appreciate what good meals are meant to look like if they never burned anything and a bike rider would never appreciate the kind of pain good balance saves them from if they never fell, nor would either ever see improvement to their capabilities.

You can save yourself from the pain of a fall, but in doing so you also lose the chance to learn the lesson that fall has to teach you about picking yourself up when no one else can or will.

A language learn should take away from their lessons, in addition to a wider vocabulary or greater understanding the the people who speak that language, the desire to communicate & understand our fellow man. Doing that means looking withing ourselves and deciding if what we want to say is what we want to show the people we meet each day.

The more we share ourselves with other, the more others will share themselves with us, forming bonds that grow across months, years or even generations. Their development is vital to our view of the world, and bettering that means we should nurture it and let it grow. To be able to speak another language entails giving up our preconceptions and seeing those we speak with for who they are: people with their own thoughts and feelings on the world they live in, thought and feelings they wish to share with others seeking to better understand it.

Knowledge of self enable knowledge of others; knowledge of others enables knowledge of the world they live in; knowledge of the world they live in enables our ability to communicate at a level far beyond any phrasebook or classroom, regardless if that language is Spanish, Japanese or Swahili.

When you seek to understand, the lines of communication will flood towards you, bringing information far more valuable than how to say 'Hello' or 'Where's the bathroom?', information those close to you would share after a date, after a proposal, after a child is born.

Deft Honesty

2010-12-15T14:06:00.000-08:00

As kids, we're told that honesty is the best policy and that lying does no one any good. However, because they don't want to scare us off, they often don't tell the while tale behind these maxims, in this instance, that honesty can place an enormous strain on relationships and that the blow up from being caught in a lie can lead to losing everything you've worked so hard to achieve. I know these realities well, having incorporated sincerity into my daily interactions and doing less than sincere deeds in my past. There is much for me to learn about being more deft in my honesty and how I state my intent, and I'm equally certain that my approach will create the kind of life I seek. This is doubtless because few things destabilize a relationship's foundation more than deceit masking true intent.

When people close to me became wolves in sheep's clothing, I became much more hesitant to place my faith in other; to this day I'm weary of accepting aid from other, the possibility of them using the act as a tool of manipulation never far from my thought. That kind of mistrust is all encompassing, leaking into all aspects of how we approach people for the first time, and is a feeling I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy. For this reason, I always seek to let those I see as friends in on what I intend to do, no matter how off putting it may turn out to be. My lack of wording skill has alienated me from a few friends, that I won't deny, but even with that, my choice of lifestyle has given me a life with little regret. White lies can help to create harmony and encouragement, but what use is creating that kind of environment when the truth can bring it down as easily as a house of cards?

I recognize the dangers inherent in the truth, especially those which have cost people their livelihoods, if not their lives. That said, I can't really see the value of trying to cover it up, since it only adds to the impact of the truth when it finally comes out. Exceptions to this surely exist, but to me, no matter how painful or devisive it is, those you have even a modicum of respect for deserve to know the truth about what you seek; to think it's better for them never to know is to insult and devalue them as human beings. If there's anything I'll learn more about being honest, it's that a little bit of sugar helps the medicine go down. Perhaps this is the key to reducing the possibility of involuntarily isolation

Crossed Wires

2010-12-08T16:38:00.000-08:00

I read a children's book on a girl coming to America from China and her troubles learning English(which even one an award, back in the eighties). While the book itself felt greatly patronizing, it did get me thinking about what it's like to leave your old life behind to live in a new country, which I wrote of before, if I remember correctly(I'll post it up as soon as I can find it in my physical archives), but never from the view from someone who's living with the fact in the country. Those thoughts inspired this poem, which I eventually hope to turn into either a children's book or a comic of some sort. At any rate, give it a read and let me know what you think.

On the first day of 1st grade,
My teacher called on me
I could answer her perfectly
'Cause answers were all I knew

When that metal hawk left Japan
A carryon carried my life
But one thing just wouldn't fit
That one thing was Chie

She spoke in ways I understood,
sharing her tales and cookies
She spurred me on and made me strong,
Like no one else ever could

In fact no one else ever did
Try and put things in my reach
Even other kids with their colorful words
the kind schools never dare teach

In this school I was the zebra
Among a pack of giraffes
It was as if I had no mouth
Until Ms. Duvall gave me one

She tutored me when school was done
And showed me utmost care
With her, my English became my pallate
To paint energy in motion

She had me saying hi, hey and hello
To all I met in Torrance
She helped me grow more and more
My joy with her grew more and more

In time I only had one thing left
And that was try to make friend
But practicing English with my peers
Unlocked the shackles restraining my fears

"You sound like a FOB!
Your mom taking our jobs?
Me love you long time
Just go with your own kind"

Shattered-my desire for friends
Silenced-my passion for English
Scrapped-my love of school time
Sullied-my faith in others

The stir of words went up in smoke
Adrift above the recess ground
I watched from atop the Jungle Gym
A world now oceans apart

And so, for, the hands of time
Lead me to who I once was
But was I walked, I found a note,
It's tongue of the home I left behind

"I know you're angry, I know you're hurt
But silence isn't the answer
How can they know what's in your heart
If you won't let anyone hear it?"

At first, it left me quite perplexed
Who could know the tongue of my home?
But then it hit me who studied it
And that was Ms. Duvall

The day after I read that note
It stayed within my jean's pocket
It's message lit something deep inside
Which I felt as I sat down for lunch

Beside me was a girl in plaid
Who stirred her chocolate pudding
I lifted my eyes and flashed a smile
Extending to her, my hand

Since then, we've grown to be BFFs
Sharing life's many grand spendors
Should Ms. Duvall Ever come across this
Thanks for everything, Linda

A Letter to the Boy I Was in 10th Grade

2010-11-22T15:55:00.000-08:00

A while ago I picked up the book What I Know Now: Letter to My Younger Self, and was intrigued by the concept of writing a letter to the person you were before you gained all you have about this world and what it contains. It fermented for many moons until, after looking forward at the path I will travel to becoming more of a man, something within me said the time was right to start crafting it. I know my path is not like those who've come before me or those who will come after, but it is my ambition to see my thoughts reach those who may need to hear it, even if I never realize it has reach them. This in mind, here is a relay to the ignorant, irritating little wuss I was back in the 10th grade, when my view of Japan was through the lens of Japanese animation and I had little grasp on just who I was and who I wanted to become.

Short version: the next 20 years of your life will be filled with awkwardness and suck, and it will change you down to the bone. Long version: So you discovered the net and made a few friends, have you? Good on ya, kid, but don't forget about the world away from the keyboard and monitor, because as you'll soon discover, it's some pretty damn amazing stuff. Sunsets on the shoreline, endless amounts people out there with endless stories to share, and of course the mountains of wisdom you'll come across are practically begging you to go and meet 'em. Remember this, though, you'll pick up a ton more if you open your eyes, your mind your heart and yourself to the world around you. Sound scary? It is scary, and it'll pul at you like you were Stretch Armstrong. So why do it? 'Cause life's gonna do that to you regardless, so you might as well take it head on and enjoy the ride.

Don't get me wrong, it's gonna be rough, what with drunken family arguements, losing your girl to a car accident, having your own kin say you can't do anything right, and all that other crap. At times it might even feel like it's too much to bear and you just wanna end it all(and you'll try to. Twice.), but in the end you won't do it 'cause you don't got the guts. That, my friend, is an excellent thing, 'cause the experience'll help you see how much life you still got left to go. Like what, you ask? Like biking 10 miles to try the best ice cream you'll ever have or crusing 'round LA with your best friend while you yuck it up and yell 'We're poor and we don't care!' out the window as the car enteres Rodeo Drive. Believe me, you've got the right stuff to get where you want and do what you want, but don't forget: someone is out there who wants to see you rise up; someone out there is willing to help you up when you get knocked down; someone out there is affected by what you've got to sat and what you'll do. Who are they? when you meet 'em, you'll know, but you gotta get out there and meet 'em first, before anything can happen.

It's great to keep a level head about things, and it'll get you through some tough times, but don't let it convince you to never even try doing something. If you give up on something 'cause it looks hard, they only thing you do is guarantee you'll fail at it. As long as you have the will, you'll find a way, if not make one yourself to reach your end goals, no matter what you think you may lack(and believe me, there'll be much you'll lack as you grow up). To help you rememer what you can do as well as reach beyond your comfort zone, be sure to surround yourself with supportive people who'll challenge you in how you approach life and won't be afraid to call you out when you fall into negative habits. You can do some incredible stuff on your own, but if you have a good team backing you up, you can go places beyond anything your imagination would dare muster.

The Theory Behind Cultural Identity

2010-11-18T19:56:00.000-08:00

This is the introductory speech I gave with my group concerning Cultural Identity, so the listener would have a good idea of what it is and how much is encompassed in it. I would hope I didn't choke too hard when I presented it to the class-on an unrelated note, I learned how to use PowerPoint by the seat of my pants as we scrambled to get everything polished up for the persentation. This is something that, as a student of both the Japanese and English language, I would want to pass on to my students. Anyways, here it is, in all it's glory, and if you have anything you wanna say, comment away.

Cultural Identity is the way we define ourselves as people, whether it's by our race, our religion, our interests or anything else, and has its roots in many countries. It doesn’t really care whether our society emphasizes putting ourselves, our families or our community first. All the struggle and strife that follows finding where we belong out among the family, friends and media pulling at us like they were Stretch Armstrong is summed up by one question: Who are you? This should be an easy thing to answer, but therein lies the rub: How in the world do you answer to that? Of course we are our name, but what lies behind it, in support? The country you were born into? The family who reared you using their own ways of life? Another kind of living you seek to be a part of?

It’s natural for someone to want to get in where they fit in; all of us have been doing it since we were in diapers. As the world becomes more connected to and aware of itself, the collective yearning to uncover our lineage increases. This desire continues to fuel both journeys of self-discovery and businesses dedicated to researching family bloodlines, like Ancestry.com, because few feelings are worse than that of traveling life’s back roads and highways without any sort of roadmap or guide, the very things having an identity to call our own gives us.

When we’re young, older folks call our search for this ideal ‘Just a silly little phase, mainly due to the ‘making mountains out of molehills’ mentality we have in those days, like when our friend is busy and can't give us a ride to a concert, we construe it as the end of all civilization. However, when we get older and start to solidify our 9-5, something starts to feel out of place, especially for those who never felt they had a heritage or lineage to either uphold or defy. Even the trailblazers and pioneers had people to look to for guidance when they need it, and those relatives, ancestors and mentors, among others, are the people who give us the tools to chisel the slab of our memories and life into something we want. That is part of Cultural Identity’s core: the contrast between the ideal and the reality.

Want It All Back

2010-11-09T20:15:00.000-08:00

There comes a time in everyone's life where it feels like all the forces in this world are working against you and you alone, and mine came on the day my bike was stolen. On that day, someone targeted my precious vehicle to be taken, leaving the other, unlocked bike untouched as the family slept and forcing me to use the 4 wheeled scooter I left behind in my youth. Pushing myself on the rocky terrains as the gales buffeted my every move caused all the frustrations I've held for all this time to unite as one white hot flash of rage. After a toss of my scooter and copious cursing, this is what I shouted to the heavens(more or less): Take my bike, take my computer, take my hands, I refuse to relent! In that moment I realized what it means to sacrifice and struggle to bring a dream into reality.

I am quite fortunate to have many dilligent, hard working people in my inner circle, and they remind me of the advantages I have that I'm not using to their utmost, such as being able to bypass many trials and tribulations simply by being born a citizen. Perhaps it was this relative ease that's made it hard to look past all I don't have or can't do and recognize the things within my reach, however minimal they may be, in my view. Whenever the situation shifted, I always sought out ways to adapt to it and rarely how to change it, mainly because I didn't even think I had the means to change it in a meaningful manner, even when I did. It's often the case that we don't feel an urge to change the way things are until a certain catalyst enters our lives, and I'm no different. When I discovered creative writing for the first time, I knew then and there I want it to be a part of my life; when my beloved perished doing the mountain road drifting she so loved, it inspired me to take chances in living the kind of life I desire, even if that means taking the ultimate chance; all through the day I lost my bike, I became familiar with this idiom: the more willing you are to let go of things you see as key to you now, the more you free yourself to change your world and make a better atmopshere for the things and people you cherish.

I learned this well the first time I was unable to use my PC, incidentally putting many of those I saw as close friends beyond my reach. Losing that revealed what losing my bike brought to light: I relied on both to ease my burden and make me comfortably umb to circumstances, with the loss of both triggering a drastic change in outlook. In yelling those words into the cutting night air, it dawned on me that regardless of reactions to events, time nor life cease their progree, and if you choose to do nothing, they'll leave you behind just the same. If there's anything this time has done for me, it's thrown a a barrel of fuel on the fire of my desire to take hold of the life I seek I know this may mean giving up a few of the things I love, but if it means crafting a better place for them to live and thrive, so be it.

Blind Date

2010-09-27T12:59:00.000-07:00

This is a short I wrote way back when, around the time I entered a dark place in my love, in terms of romantic involvement. Since I felt the message I wanted to send in those days got lost due to my own emotional quagmire and distinctly stilted views on women seeking men in those days, I took the editing knife to it to let the emotional impact better shine forth. This actually came to be one of those emotionally charged editing sessions where I had to face some of the darkness I thought I left behind for good, and in the end, I was better for facing up to it. I would hope this reflects in the final product, and is something you can appreciate. Without further delay, here is a moment in time from the life of people seeking love and somebody real

Steam fogged up the bathroom mirror as a young girl emerged from her shower, water dripping from her strawberry mane. Wrapping an earth brown towel around her slender, olive skinned self, she heard flamenco chords coming from her cell. She snatched the slim blue clamshell from beside the sink and flipped it open, answering, “Hello, Marisa speaking. Like, who's calling?” The phone rested near her ear as the words “It's your blind date. I assume you're still putting on your face?”came from her speaker.

“Among other things.” With a giggle, she let her towel fall as she slipped on her lucky lacy undies,“So when are you swingin' by?”

“I'd say 10 minutes, but I wanna know what's a good time for you.”

“Aww, how considerate.” She poured herself into her low rise jeans “Well I have a friend over right now, so how's 7 sound?”

“Sounds great. See you then, Nijiiro Girl.” She closed the phone and threw on her tan baby tee, stepping out into the hallway. Sliding her cell in her back pocket, she glanced at her wispy haired friend on the living room couch “Guess who just called, Trisha?”

“That one dude you met on GaySpace?” Trisha retorted, her ocean blue eyes fixated on the screen,

“T'chea, like that anime forum you go to, is any better.” Pausing the game, Trisha glared at Marisa the way bears glare at those threatening their cubs. “I'm sorry, I didn't know you were still getting over your breakup...”

“It's fine, don't worry about it.” Marisa sat beside her, as she said, “But you seemed to be way close to each other. And he sounded like such a great guy, too...”

“He is, and he's still someone close to my heart, but...but right now I'm just so conflicted...” Slapping her back, Marisa handed her a glass an apple juice “Don't be so down, Trish! From what you've told me, even being a friend to that guy is one of the best things a girl can ask for. I mean sure, he's sounds a bit clingy and all that, but he's still way better than those other macho douchebags.”

“Yeah, definitely. And I'm glad he's my friend. I guess I just need time to think things over.” Trisha offered her the second controller, and Marisa let out a laugh “Well you sure do have a weird way of coming to terms.”

“Better than goin' through 5 boxes of ice cream, isn't it?” Nodding in agreement, Marisa took the controller and began the hour long button mashing session. Both of them became absorbed in the virtual beatdowns and girl chat, when Marisa suddenly felt a vibration in her backpocket. With a quick and prompt confirmation chat, she returned the phone to its resting place, and slipped on her sneakers, saying, “Alright Trish, I'm heading out, so I'll see ya later. And hey.” She let her hand fall on Trisha's shoulder, as she looked into her eyes, “You know I'm always here if you need someone to talk to.” With a tender smile, she responded, “I know, Mari, but you shouldn't keep your guy waiting. I'm pretty sure he wants to see you, too.” Marisa nodded, and went towards the front door, where a cherry red Acura RSX awaited her outside. As she walked towards the passenger door, it suddenly opened to her, revealing a shaggy haired boy dressed in casual blues.

“My you look stunning. Your profile pics don't do you justice, Marisa.” Hearing his words, her face slightly flushed as she got in and buckled up. “I could say the same for you, umm...”

“Bobby.” He offered his hand, as he said, “It's nice to finally meet, after talking for so many months.”

“Indeed it is.” As they firmly shook, her eyes caught a picnic basket in the rear view mirror, and she immediately said, “Dude, you actually have one of those old school baskets.” Starting up the ignition, his other hand grasped the steering wheel, as he said, “Well we'll need something to eat, while we're in the park, right?” They then sped off, towards a park somewhere within Orange County.

***

After a brief while driving around, they set down and set up under the big oak, of a local park, getting to know each other over bowls of homemade spaghetti and garlic bread. Seeing his date virtually inhale her portions, Bobby let out a chuckle. “Is it safe to assume you're enjoying the meal?” She put her fork down, nodding as she chugged some Cherry ice tea.

“Yeah, dude. Did you make this yourself?” He slurped a few sauce coated strands, then said, “Yes ma'am. My dad's an awesome cook, and he passed down a lot of what he knows. I hope my cooking, among other things, reflect that.”

“They do, trust me. Good reminder of what a real man is” Taking a sip of his drink, he glanced over at her, and asked, “And how would you define ‘a real man’?”

“One that isn’t a macho meathead, like all the ones that seen drawn to me as if they’re flies and I’m honey” Hearing traces of anger in her voice, he said, “Well why do you think ‘macho meathead’ are the only people you attract? Certainly other kinds of men are drawn to you, right?” She stopped for a second, and looked down at the blue checkerboard rug. Bobby took a sip of his drink, then asked, “C’mon, Marisa, you can’t really think that about yourself.”

“And why shouldn’t I? Who wants a girl that can’t play sports, cook or fix cars? All I can do is play guitar, and none of the musician guys I know have the guts to even come up and say ‘hi.’” With a fierce gaze, he said, “Permission to scream some sense into you?”She quickly look up and replied, “Permission denied, dude. Why the heck would you need to do that, anyways?”

“’Cause anyone you meet should be able to see you're kind, funny, kind, funny and a very talented musician. Any guy would be lucky to be with you, even the macho meatheads who couldn’t recognize a great mate if they came up and smacked them in the face”

“If that's the case, then why did all those guys break up with me?”

"Well, have you ever mistreated or mistrusted them? Were you overly dependent on them, for support and comfort? Did you ever neglect their needs?” Staring flatly at him, she answered, “You know the answer is no, Bobby.”

“Then, in my eyes, it can only be because they're scared; scared to commit; scared to return affection; scared of what they may lose.”

“What do you mean ‘scared’? What’s scary about being in love?”

“Lots of guys my age think being with someone long term means giving up the chance to have fun and enjoy life the way they want to, that’s why they do something stupid when they realize all they can do now is browse the menu, not to mention when you truly love someone, in time, everything about yourself gets revealed to them, even the stuff you keep under lock and key. Trust me, letting yourself be completely open to be examined, questioned and hurt is a scary, scary, scary thing to do”

“You know what? You're...you're...”A few tears streamed down her face, as she said, “You're absolutely right. You always have been...” He put his arms around her, her tears soaking his shirt as he said, “It's alright, Marisa, these things happen. I know men took a lot from you, and done a lot to you. I’ve had a lot of the same crap done to me, too.”

“Yeah, you've told me how people used you in the past...”

“Then you know how tough it’s made it for me to trust others, too?” She looked up at him and nodded, asking, “Is that why you're still friends with that one girl?” He let her slip from his embrace, ruefully saying, “Yeah. We went through a lot together, and quite honestly, I've had feelings for her I don't think I'll ever have with anyone else.”

“You sure about that, Bobby?” Feeling her hand touching his, he shot her an inquisitive glance, as he said, “For now, yes, but we'll see what time brings about.” Looking around, at the empty cups, plates and bottles, he chuckled, and said, “And seeing as our dinner is firmly in our bellies, I think it's time for our next activity.”

“Well I haven't been to that one arcade at The Block for a while. Wanna go there?”

“Sure thing, Marisa. Let's clean up here, and head out.” A half hour later, they arrived at the arcade, and had a ball, facing against, and playing with each other on the various standups. But while Bobby pulled the trigger, boxed a few rounds and shot some free throws, he failed to notice the glint in Marisa's darkly jade eyes; the gentle smile that crossed her face; the warmth she gave off when his hand held hers as they walked around. On the drive to her house, she reclined in her seat, as she thought, “Oh man, that was probably the best date I've been on in a while. Not only did he make an awesome dinner, but we actually had a ton of fun together. And I actually got to see what he’s about in person, instead of on a computer screen. I wonder...is there anything he wants from me?”

***

Approaching her driveway, they parked under a street lamp, and Bobby escorted her to the front door. As he bowed and said good night, Marisa smiled and stepped forward, asking, “Wanna come in?” Hearing this, Bobby rose up and scratched his head, as he said, “Umm...sure...” As he stepped inside, he took notice of Marisa's come hither stare, the words, “Wait here, there’s something I wanna tell you.” coming from her lips.

“Well, what would we need to talk about?”

“Oh, you'll see...” She disappeared into the hall, leaving Bobby further confused, as he sat on the couch, & thought, “Man, ever since dinner, she's been acting weird. Then again, I haven't been around many girls recently, so this may just be normal behavior…oh, who am I kidding? Even my exes weren't this affectionate, when we first went out. Maybe there's something personal she wants to tell me?” At that moment, she called out, “Alright, I'm ready. Come on in, Bobby.” his ears hanging on to each heated breath. With little clue of what the atmosphere was telling him, he made his way towards her beckoning hand, and into her moonlit bedroom. On her bed, he saw, a plethora of animal plushies, and next to it, was a fully stocked computer space. However, its owner was nowhere in his sights until he heard the door slam shut behind him, and Marisa's voice let the words, “I've waited a long time for someone like you.” hang in the air. His breath grew more and more bated, with each moment “Whatever do you mean, Marisa?” She slipped out of her jeans, and flung them onto the bed, “C'mon now, you really think finding a kind, caring and understanding chef is easy?” His body began to shake, watching her tee fly beside his head, and onto the corner of the neatly made bed, “Well, you'll never know what you'll find, if you dig under the surface...”

“Well I don't need to dig. I've got all I need right here.” He could feel her arms wrapping around his waist, mere millimeters of cloth separating their flesh. Summoning every ounce of self control he had, he asked, “Why...why are you doing this?”

“Well, because I want to show how much all you've done means to me, Bobby-boy.” Upon hearing this, his shakes ceased, and he closed his eyes and let out a cleansing breath, saying, “I see. So is this how you feel my kindness is best repaid?” Planting a small kiss on his cheek, she moved her mouth closer to his ear, and whispered, “You've given me what I wanted for a long time, so now I'm gonna give you what you've always wanted...” His hand clenched into a fist as he felt her undoing his belt buckle, tight as a spring on the verge of bursting forth. “So do you honestly think I want something that's hot, heavy and meaningless?” Marisa came to an immediate halt, Bobby walking towards the bed and sitting on the edge. He patted the spot beside him, “C’mere, Marisa. There’s a lot I gotta tell you.” Marisa, with eyes fixed wide and mouth slightly agape, did as she was told and looked at the floor, “First of all, you know my stance on sex. To me, it's the ultimate act of love and trust, not some bargaining chip or negotiation tactic. Also I didn’t bring any rubbers, so it would’ve ended very badly. That said, when I do want it, both of us gotta cherish and desire each other on every possible level. Don’t get me wrong, I AM a man, and all that, but this isn’t the way I want it to go down. Right now, I see you as a friend, not a friend with benefits.”

“Well, I do, too but I kinda thought you wanted someone to be with, after what happened with that girl...”

“Mari, one of the first things I learned after my break up is that for a relationship to be strong and live long, everyone involved’s gotta be strong on their own, first. Things go south in a hurry, if they’re not, which with me and her, it did. When they are, though, the time they share together becomes that much better and worthwhile” Marisa then felt the gentle touch of his hand on her back, as he said, “Besides, my kindness doesn't need to be repaid. Kindness that demands repayment isn’t kindness, it’s manipulation” With a smile, she glanced at him and replied, “I know, Bobby. I guess I just don't know what to do with real nice guys. Guess I’m too used to those assholes that pretend to be nice ‘til they get in the door, so to speak.”

“Well, not treating everyone like they only seek your goodies, is a good place to start. If sex driven assholes are all you think you’ll find in Orange County, that’s all you’ll find in Napa Valley and San Fran, too. The words they say and the stuff they do isn’t a foolproof way to find someone great, but it sure beats comparing them to expectations you’ll never think they’ll reach. Also, can’t expect to uproot mister right, right away, man; that tends to produce some bad harvesting. The people who make your life rich and rewarding tend to be the last people you expect, and that is an awesome thing.”

“You know…I think you're on to something there. Maybe I'll get lucky and snag a guy like you down the line. I'm kinda curious, though...” Bobby tilted his head and scratched at his crown, as she asked, “What exactly, did this girl do, to open your eyes to all this stuff? I heard this is the kinda crap you don’t really get too great ‘til you’re old and gray”

“Well, if you really wanna know, she opened my eyes to both extraordinary wonders and everyday wonders. She awakened my will and inner strength, and let me know how real deal love feels. You know, all that mushy stuff.”

“I've read my fare share of romance novels, so I catch your drift. Would you happen to have a pic of her on you?”

“I do, but the only one I can show you is a bit old. Hope you don't mind...” Pulling out his cell, a shot of a girl with sun kissed skin, and wispy, two toned hair soon appeared on the screen. As soon as Marisa saw the spark in the girl’s ocean blue eyes, it dawned on her just who this girl was. She smiled to herself, and said, “She's a pretty girl, and she was lucky to have you.”

“I could say the same about the guys you were with, and will be with, in the future. Who know, maybe if you keep your eyes, ears and heart open to the people around you, Mr., or maybe even Ms. Right might gut up and say ‘Sup?’ Well I have class in the morning, so I think I'll head on home.” Putting his cell in his jeans, he waved at her as he went out the door, and said, “Hope to see you again soon, Marisa.” She returned his parting gesture, then called Trisha, leaving her this message: “Trisha, don't ask how I know, but your friend is the wisest, gentlest and most caring man I've ever met. He was the first person to show me where I need to start to find someone awesome, and where I need to start now…is with me.”

One Last Push

2010-09-13T14:46:00.000-07:00

There are few feelings more infurating than giving it all you have and still falling short of your goals, a feeling I've stared square in the face more tha once. It never gets any easier to deal with the inferiority and dejection failure brings, no matter hard much you learn or how much you grow. You're left with no other choice, but to stand before all the things that've dragged you to this point and either let them pass or let them ruin you. Each encounter has taken me to the razor edge of my limits, and each time I've taken a vital piece of wisdom with me into my daily life. That wisdom gave me the strength to keep moving and push myself past my own threshold.

Have you ever heard someone say "You're pretty good, but you still need a little somethin', somethin'"? That little somethin' somethin' has been an ideal sought after for millenia, and to achieve this, each of the multitude who've pursued this have had to face aspects of themselves they've suppressed all their lives. For me this meant owning up to my habits and the fact that they aren't the kind that'll make my dreams reality. My lackadasical methodology has shown me many of life's wonders over the years, but the time when even my most hardcore preparations left me missing the mark by miles are forever seared onto my consciousness, reminders of my failure and my fuel to take me higher. It is the joy of victory and agony of defeat that paints our mental images, and these emotions are what spur me to examine and re-examine myself so I can discover where I need to make one last push towards my goals.

When we reach the peak of one mountain, a higher one always awaits in the distance, daring us to scale it, and it's in this endless cycle that personal growth is enabled from womb to tomb. In some cases the process goes on long after that, when things they create get invovled, such as skateboarding and the guitar. It can grow tiring after a while, but no other way of life can hold a candle to what I chose. I love who I am and what I've become, and know much more is waiting for me for see and uncover. Whatever it may end up being, there's no doubt the journey to it will give me the tools I need to forge my own truth and craft something that serves others long after my time comes.

Loss and Appreciation

2010-07-28T19:18:00.001-07:00

One of life’s greatest ironies is that we can never completely realize the value something or someone has until it’s taken from us, only to be observed from a distance. This is something never lost on me, having lost everything from treasured media to loved ones over the course of my life, as well as witnessing others lose those precious things. Through my losses I’ve come to see it’s not the things themselves that build the value we link to it, but the experiences we build with them, the experiences that stay with us in times of prosperity and poverty. These are the things which guide us in our decisions and help us realize what truly has meaning in a world throwing everything at us at once, the same things I’ve come to appreciate the more I grow into my skin. With these experiences, our daily interactions become that much richer and rewarding, letting us see just how much more is there for us, if we build upon our past and let it lay a path to our future.

In my life this is meant traveling to the beach on my trusty bike, focusing my talents into something more tangible and doing something I haven’t done since elementary: being more social. From learning more about a foreign language and its culture I’ve honed the importance of speaking with others not only to build language and vocabulary skills, but also to listen to others and let their view of life enrich and enhance my own. The more conversations I’ve had, the more I see the meaning of making connections with the people around me, revealing new windows through which I can observe and learn from new ways of life. In addition, it’s let me continue to refine one of the core principles I hold about making more personal connections, that if I wish to be someone capable enough of being in such relationships, I must be as strong and capable as I would expect that person to be, if not much more so. Had I not made the mistakes in doing these things or lost what I have in my younger days, I highly doubt any of this would’ve stayed with me, or that I’d be who I choose to be now, the same person I intend to keep improving and perfecting through a willing spirit and an open mind.

In loss, a deeper understanding is gained of not only the things our experiences have passed onto us, but also what it means to sacrifice things close to our hearts to make our dreams reality. I see this not only in my own life, but also in the world around me, such as one Yuko Kawaguchi, who gave up her very citizenship to pursue her desire of Olympic gold(in case you’re wondering, she’s now known as Yuko Kavaguti). I know now whatever I must give up to press forward in my adventures, the experiences I gained with them will forever stay with me, letting me recognize where I came from and just how far beyond my limits I can go. Perhaps this will entail questioning and changing some of my core principles, but if that means I can live more of the kind of life I want, so be it. Even if I fail at something life has thrown at me before, that can only mean I gain the experience that moment has given me and become that much more capable of building the life I long envisioned.

A Seat at the Dinner Table

2010-04-07T19:55:00.001-07:00

It’s said one of the most rapidly fading traditions from the Nuclear Family days of America is the act of sitting around the family table and collectively enjoying a meal, shooting the breeze about their day. It’s in these moments the fabric of the family is laid bare, as well as how each person regards themselves within the family unit, and in turn within society. With my own family, I can remember few times we’ve ever sat down together for such a thing, and none of those times have I ever felt I belonged, causing me to reevaluate what it means to be part of something, as well as the concept of unity. In any group I’m a part of, I am strongly against leaving anyone out of the equation or leading them to conclude they have no use, which is a large part of what continues to spur me on in my journey to be a better leader and team member. In my studies and experiences around these fields there are two key questions I feel build on what makes a team grow and prosper: what does each person ask of their team, and what do they ask of themselves?

As a matter of principle I set the bar high for both myself and those I choose to work with, leading to as much disappointment as amazement at the things accomplished, which is to say quite a lot. Though they’ve brought great things to me over the years, these standards have also weeded out many I’ve met in my life, including several very interesting people I’ve come upon, but didn’t bother to get contact info from due to differing mindsets. The question of just how easily I could give up my standards and let myself become more like the people I’ve grown apart from, drifting along life’s shores is a constant presence in my life, especially in times of crises when such a choice is right within my grasp. The desire to belong is a force with illogical influence over us, growing more so as global society becomes more connected, but even with that close enough to smell at some points, but even with all I’ve sacrificed to live up to my principles, it’s not possible for me to fathom letting them go. It would be utterly hypocritical for me to scrutinize the world I live in and those I work with so harshly for setting such base level standards that they still fail to live up to, and live as if having standards is worth as much as dirt.

I still have a ways to go to reach the kind of heights I wish to reach, but even if it keeps me away from a good chunk of humanity, the vast amount of improvement just reaching for it has given me hardens my commitment to this lifestyle. The few moments of ‘This is incredible’ I’ve gotten from those I work with have become worth much more than any amount of ‘Oh, that’s neat’ I might get if I ask anything less of them. This may create much struggle for me and those I work with, but I know that struggle will make us better and allow us to appreciate the time and effort we put into a project once it’s done. If anything, the journey having high standards creates is the thing sticking with us for much longer than the end product, especially when the process begins over again and we proceed enriched by our travels. Who knows, maybe someday I might to share some of my tales from the road around the dinner table with the people I grow close to, hopefully serving some tasty BBQ.

Stepping Back from the Brink

2010-03-08T18:49:00.000-08:00

Regardless of any advancement mankind makes in raising the standard of living, one thing always present in day to day lives is stress, whether it’s emotional or situational. It’s a constant dance to ensure it doesn’t overtake us and influence our decisions, but even the best dancers slip up now and then, and that’s when the true test of a person’s grit begins. Do they rise up and push on, or let their issues drag them deeper into the dark spiral, eventually taking them down to the absolute end of everything they knew, more commonly known as throwing your life away as if it was line paper smudged with grease stains. I faced this decision more than a few times in my life, one involving a knife and another involving a bridge, and each time I couldn’t muster the mindset that ending my life would benefit those close to me somehow, and couldn’t do it. Because of that, I was able to contemplate just what kind of meaning my life had, and where I drew that worth from.

In my compulsory school days, I achieved much academically as well as underwent life changing incidents, yet even when I told them in plain English, nobody I knew seemed to notice, chipping away at where I saw myself within society. As time passed I looked to wherever I could to find some emotional validation, particularly the internet, and it was only when I was cut off from those sources did I face my reality and see the side of me I longed tried to escape. It took much inner soul searching and much deeper wounds inflicted by those close to me, but in time I came to see if no one else could or would make me feel I had meaning in this world, I had to give it to myself and make it myself. At times I still wonder what worth I have to the world and what I can do to better my station, but when a complete stranger tells me my 3 best traits are being knowledgeable, outgoing and confident, I’m reminded of how far I’ve come in improving how I take life on, as well as how much farther I have to go to rise higher. I know whenever I hold a straight edge razor in my hand the only prevalent thought is “I wonder if this can still cut out coupons cleanly?”

Those I’ve befriended over the years have done much to give me a shoulder to cry on and let me see my issues from a more objective perspective, and for that I’m grateful, but even back then I knew they couldn’t always be there when I needed them, and that I had to build my own strength if I expected to survive the kind of life I wish to lead. Seeing others with that same fire to find a way to make their desires reality, while occasionally leading me to those I hold philosophical agreements with, renews my own fire and reminds me of why I choose to live on and push ahead, regardless of what they come to pass. Every day I ponder the meaning of weeding out the weak and the strong, and every day I’m reminded of what that means to me: that those who are strong will do whatever it needed to live a life full of worthwhile acts and words, and that those who are weak will freely let the world rob them of every chance available to them to excel, if it means they can live on autopilot and let the reins slip completely from their grip. I admit I still do a bit of whining about the disadvantages I currently face, but I know well how capable I am of creating the kinds of resources I need to climb up, as well as what it means to sacrifice comfort for something better in this world, something worth committing to paper. It’s with this realization I’m able to see what the next step in growth is: assuming the risks my path entails and learn to ride life’s ebb and flow.

Boys and Girls

2010-02-25T19:21:00.000-08:00

A brief poem based on a section of the Feminist's Manifesto my English teacher had us reinterpet. If you lik it, drop me a line

Men basing their lives on defending the women

& women who base their lives on finding a good man

Embody the spirit of neither

Define yourself by who you are,

Not what you lack.

Be not what you lust after.

Do you latch onto their wallet,

Latch onto their organ,

Or choose to latch onto neither?

Both are locked in battle

Each holding the same key advantage and disadvantage:

Desire for one another

G.U.E.C.

2010-02-22T18:22:00.000-08:00

This is a descriptive short I whipped up for my English class, and I have to say I'm quite proud of it. Down the line, I'm even considering making some logos and sketches to help better realize it. I did get a bit carried away during the writing process, though, so it runs a bit longer than many of my other works. If you wanna see the tale of a boy and his affront to scientific logic, take a look after the jump. As always, feel free to leave any thoughts you may have on it

G.U.E.C

I can’t believe how much I’ve traveled over the past few weeks, and without spending a dime on plane tickets or lodging. As I’m writing this entry, I’m lookin’ at trinkets I have from Sweden, Spain, South Korea, and who knows how many other places sitting on my dashboard, and it’s all thanks to something I got from the Research and Development team I’ve been helping out over the years. You see, by trade I’m a Public Relations specialist, and one of the first job offers I got was helping this transportation technology development team market their still-in-progress tech at the time to potential buyers. When I saw the specs for their product, which they told me was small enough to fit in jeans pockets, but able to expand enough to get people around, I knew I had a big order ahead of me in trying to make this something investors won’t look at and say, “You’re an absolute nut and we want you removed from the premises”. Doing this has got me booted from more than a few meetings, but it was more than worth it when their lead developer approached me after work, still decked out in his lab coat and goggles, and said, “Thanks for all the help. With your PR wizardry, we finally got a call back from potential investors, ready to put our blood, sweat and tears to good use. As a token of our appreciation, I’ll give you this G-10 Shaw prototype.” After which he presented me a spiffy metal briefcase he was lugging around. “Whenever you wanna give our tech a spin for yourself, open it and follow the stuff we included. Just remember that this was made for you and only you” That night I decided to celebrate their (and by association my) success with some of my work buddies, going so club crazy that the next morning, I felt like a semi smacked me across the face. It was that morning I saw just what I was pushing all these years, and how much it would change the life I knew.

At around 10:00 AM I woke up, bundled under my silky cotton blanket and smacking the alarm clock. After a few minutes of shaking off the sleepies I rolled out of bed, tripping on the suitcase set beside it. I reached for the handle and dragged it in front of me, popping it open to reveal this handwritten letter from the team:

“This suitcase contains all the time and effort we poured in to make this happen, yours included. You knew about the legalities of buying, selling and talking about it when you first joined, so the only thing I’ll say is use common sense and don’t try anything stupid with it, especially since it’s only assigned to work for the person it recognizes as its owner, in this case you. The unit will guide you through the how’s and why’s of using it, so just turn on the included laptop, watch the magic and have some fun

~The G.U.E.C Team

P.S. Be sure you have some good clothes on when you activate it

I pulled the magazine size, cobalt blue laptop from the suitcase, and was struck by the pebble-like design of the casing, as well as its pebble-like weight in my hands. I flipped it open to have a peek at the keyboard, and almost immediately it powered on and, in a distinct Cockney accent, spouted off this during the boot up:

“Unit G-10 Shaw initiating one-time auto sequence. Confirming subject identity…confirmed. Teleporting subject and briefcase to assigned location. Hope you don’t mind the woods, sir.”

I looked up from the screen and noticed the azure skies where the roof used to be, as well as the endless stretch of pine trees all around me as I asked myself, “OK, what the hell just happened?”

“You have been teleported to a secure location in order to minimize unwanted attention while I show you how to use the G-10 Shaw.” was its answer to my rhetorical question. “I mean, there is that whole one-guy-in-the-woods-with-a-camera bit, but better one than one hundred, right?”

“Right. So, what’re you made of, exactly?”

“I’m nothing more than chips and transistors, altered in the lab to enable all the functions of that capsule.” I grabbed the cobalt blue, pill shaped capsule it referred to from the briefcase as it continued, “That capsule, however, is a different beast. The nanotechnology in there took years of research, trial and error in the lab to make, and is so complex merely studying it rendered one of the technicians unconscious for 2 days. On the plus side, that same scientist was able to solve Algebra problems by merely looking at ‘em when he woke up.” I put the capsule next to my ear and gave it a shake to guess at the contents. “Hmm, swishy”

“Indeed. Also forgive my rudeness and allow me to introduce myself. I am the G-10 Shaw, part of the General Unrestricted Exploration Capsule, or G.U.E.C. line of products the team’s research is powering. If you want, you can also call me Cherri, my original codename taken from the lead programmer’s little angel.”

“Pleased to meet such an advanced A.I. With a British accent, apparently.”

“Three words: Monty Python binge. Then again, if my programmers had been watching more illicit entertainment by the time they gave me a voice, I’d probably sound more sexed up than I do now. Speaking of programming, since this is your first time having a go with me, would you like me to show you how this all works? Since that’s the whole reason you’re here, and all.”

“Sure. Not like there’s much else to do out here.”

“Right. Now would you fancy seeing the travel or housing capabilities first?”

“You mean this can be more than 1 thing?”

“Just choose.” Picking myself up, I set the laptop and briefcase on a nearby stump as I answered, “Housing, then. I could use a good change of clothes right now.”

“Very well. Double click the house icon, press the clicker on top of the capsule to activate the timer and give it a good toss. Preferably on a good space of ground not near a cliff.” I did as Cherri suggested, and in a few seconds an Acme grade puff of smoke appeared before me, slowly dissipating to reveal a pearl white, sizably square structure with sliding windows on either side. “Reminds me of what I stayed in during college, when Ramen was what’s for dinner.”

“Hush, you. If you don’t like it, you can always use the editor program to change it later. Besides, it’s the inside that counts, or did your mum not teach you that?”

“She taught me how to salvage a burnt piece of steak, does that count?”

“Hmm, perhaps so. Now c’mon, let’s have a look inside, at the real meat of this set-up.” Doing so, I swung the oak door open to reveal a room that made a Ritz Carlton look worse than a Motel 8, at least from a guy’s perspective. Cherri started the tour by pointing to the right, as she said, “If you look right, you’ll see a queen sized bed covered with a zebra patterned blanket, with space age pillows on top and the silvery comforter right under.” Slipping my hand under the blanket to feel its buttery smoothness for myself, it continued, “I assure you it has quite a high thread count, and is like sleeping on a cloud.”

“I notice the headboard and bed posts have a wavy curve to ‘em and look very dark. Is that redwood?”

“Correct. Your favorite kind, if my data isn’t mistaken”

“It isn’t. I assume the night stand next to it is made of the same stuff?”

“That’s a sharp eye, but c’mon, you know what happens when you assume.”

“I do, just sayin’.” Just a bit above the headboard, a rainbow flag hanging there catches my gaze and I ask, “Is that the team’s way of insinuating something about me?”

“Oh heavens no, merely a placeholder they used to test the color range. Nothin’ wrong with if you do bat for the other team, of course.”

“Of course.” I made my way towards a jet black bar set on the opposite corner of the room while Cherri continued her tour spiel. “Now if you’ll care to look, you’ll find a place to mix drinks to your heart’s desire, complete with mixing cups, martini glasses and the like. I know you don’t like the hard stuff, so your bar’s stocked with Bacardi, Smirnoff and all those other pansy drinks girls like.”

“Will I be restocking my own stuff and supplying my own mixing skills?”

“Quite. There are programs and videos I can install to help you not look foolish while you do it, but that’s another matter for another time, and I need you dry for the tour.”

“But of course.” I then saw a pair of door knobs in the wall and asked, “Where do those go?”

“For now they lead to a mere closet, but once you fire up the editor you can change the room to your whims, and this to something beyond a closet with one pair of jeans and a T-shirt” Feeling out of place in my plaid PJs, I opened it up and saw the shirt had the message “I can has Cheezburger?” printed on it in a comical font. “I see your programmers were very sharp dressers, Cherri.”

“Yes. Quite sharp, and as always, you can add your own gear later on. Now then, look to your left and tell me what you see.” I did as instructed, and saw a Dance Dance Revolution cabinet and stand up arcade cabinet sitting side by side, telling her, “I’m seeing where most of my money went during high school. What arcade game does the stand up cab have?”

“Any kind you can find and install, with both a track ball and joystick set up for maximum versatility. For legal reasons I can’t point you to where to get the games, but I suspect you already have a fair clue as to where you can.”

“Indeed I do. I’m sure that computer station over there has nothing to do with how to acquire them.” I turned my gaze over to the other corner of the room, where a simple computer work station with a large, red office chair and combo scanner and printer on the desk beside the screen were stationed.

“Indeed not. However the bookshelf next to the work station has much literature that can educate you on many subjects, from the mystery of the opposite sex to the mystery of changing the timer on a VCR.”

“Who uses a VCR anymore?”

“Well they have to watch those sex tapes on something, correct? Anyways, if you step outside, I can start the travel half of the tour. Once you’re out, just double click the plane icon and watch the magic” I did as she said and saw the same cloud of smoke from before, this time revealing a mobile home, it’s shape and size reminiscent of the great killer whale, if a killer whale had windows running along its side.

“This is amazing, Cherri. For some reason I wanna watch Free Willy again.”

“Well if you want to, you can watch it in the flying mobile contraption. Now c’mon, we have a tour to get through so you can start using its perpetual energy and fuel to see the world’s biggest ball of yarn.” I entered through the rear door and quickly took note of the 2 bunk beds on either side as Cherri said, “As you can see, the travel part was meant to be more of a social experience, so we decided to give you some extra beds for your friends to sleep in, if you want to bring some along. If not, well then now you have extra space for your purchases, and what not.”

“Hmm, well that’s all well and good, but what about if nature calls? I won’t have to use a bag, will I?”

“Oh heavens no! In fact just up ahead is a loo the team built to take care of your different bodily functions and odors. Hopefully they didn’t leave any of their own behind after testing it out.” Seeing as it took up one part of the vehicle’s right side, I swung around on the left to get at the entrance on the other side. After swinging the door open, I flipped the light switch and took a peek at the facilities. “Hmm, pretty clean and white for something guys used. I can still see through the clear shower doors, Toilet on my right doesn’t seem to be emitting any man stench, and the sink in front of me doesn’t have any stray hairs or any of that. Think I’ll change that soon enough.”

“Yes, quite. On a related note, located directly behind you is the entertainment center of this contraption.” I turned to the left to see what it meant, and at once I beheld the marvelously large flat screen TV stationed on the wall, as well as the black cabinet directly below it holding so many modern game systems and media centers I nearly wept with joy. “Are…are those-”

“Yes they are. The media center and each of the consoles is equipped is high grade wireless internet, so if you wanna stream something from Netflix or watch someone get their twig ‘n’ berries smashed on the big screen, you can.”

“There’s so much beauty in the world…”

“Oi! Pull it together, man, we have a tour to finish! Speaking of, to the left of the big screen is a bookcase dedicated to holding any physical media you wanna keep on hand, be it DVDs, magazines, ill gotten goods or what have you.”

“Which the computer station on my left has nothing to do with?”

“But of course. And to the right of that is a black sofa made to feel soft and inviting to the touch. Give it a sit if you wanna see for yourself.” I planted myself on there and ran my hands over the supple fabric. “Mmm…like the gentle caress of a mother holding her child. I can see many hours spent here with my feet up on the little coffee table in front of me and reading some good lit.”

“Precisely. What’s more, both the computer and the media center can be accessed directly from the laptop. Just head to the appropriate subfolders and let it rip.” No time was wasted in putzing around in all the songs left in the laptop by the team, and since it was there, I decided to play something in Cherri’s personal collection. “Is that Time Warp? I see you have a good appreciation of British theatre”

“As well as men brave enough to dress like women. Also feeling a bit hungry. Anything to munch on, on board?”

“Indeed there is; right in the next room, if you would be so kind.” Proceeding through the hallway, I stepped into what seemed a lot like my home kitchen as Cherri said, “On the right hand side, you’ll find all the basic bits you’ll need for food consumption and clean up, including a dish washer, kitchen sink, fridge and all the drawers you could want to stock your tools of the trade. Obviously the sharp, pointy things are kept in those drawers, and the drawers are sealed air tight when no one is touching them. I’m sure you wouldn’t want your cutlery flying about while steering this thing.”

“I do prefer to stay puncture free during my travels, yes.” My gaze turned towards the sleek, metallic looking stove beside me, and I asked, “Now how about this thing over on my left?”

“Oh c’mon, even men should know what that does and how to use it. However I will say that this laptop can function with it in many ways, from setting temperature to step by step instructions, even letting you know if your food’s cooked a bit too much and is starting to char.”

“Nifty. Does it work with the fridge, too?”

“Oh yes, in fact, once you set it with your fridge at home, you can transport food from it to this fridge, if it’s there during the operation and there’s room for it in this fridge. The boys in the lab set up a test fridge, so you can try it out. Go on, start up the fridge program and give it a whirl.” Doing so, I opened the fridge and found a turkey club sandwich with a small note on the plate from one of the team members:

“Hope you like a bit of 1000 Islands with your sandwich”

~Shelly, Graphic Designer for the G.U.E.C Team

Taking a bite, I gave it a good chewing over, then came to this assessment, “Hmm, the lettuce has a nice crunch to it, and the 1000 Islands gives it the right amount of zing. Kid does good work.”

“I’m sure she’s sneezing at such an excellent compliment. Now then, shall I show you the brains of this operation?”

“Please do.” As I made my way through the corridor, I expected such an advanced piece of machinery as this to have gauges out the wazoo on the dashboard. What I saw, however, was a steering wheel covered with black leather, one speedometer on the left side of that and a single screen on the right. With a scratch of my crown, I asked Cherri, “So, uh, how does this thing work?”

“Well, to activate the systems, just double click the wheel icon on the laptop, and watch it work.” With that double click, the thing sprang to life as the screen powered up and a panel popped out beside it, revealing a set of keys and a clicker. “I assume those are to get this thing mobile?”

“Correct. Just set your location and I’ll get a path ready to go for you. Before that, though, I have a bit of a query.”

“Fire away, Cherri.”

“Well, according to my database, this was what you requested the very first day you worked for the G.U.E.C team several years ago. Why hasn’t that changed over all the time you spent getting the good word out about this project?” I sat myself in the plush pilot’s seat and set the laptop in the compartment space, telling her, “Simple. I want to travel this world and see all there is to it, but have never been able to. In college it was because I couldn’t afford plane tickets or make time between classes, and when I grew up it was because of how packed my schedule always was. The only times I ever did travel it was for business, and I couldn’t visit or do squat outside all the meetings I had to attend so I could seal the deal. In my personal life I want to see as much of this world as I can and understand how different people from different cultures and customs can connect, regardless of any barriers impeding that. To me, traversing this world means traversing the concept of human understanding, as well as finding out how much it means to be human, to be alive, to communicate with everything and everyone around me beyond the external, and peering at the internal of what composes each and every one of us.”

“Oh my, that’s…certainly something I didn’t think I’d hear from you.”

“What, we’re you expecting me to tell you my take on The Aristocrats?”

“Hmm, perhaps so. Anyways, whenever you’re ready, set your desired coordinates, strap yourself in and you’ll be ready for takeoff.” I followed what she said, and used the keys to fire up the ignition; mere moments later I felt a body shaking rumble as it lifted up in the air. I didn’t know how it was doing it at the time, and neither did I really care. In that instant I felt free to go anyplace I desired, and that I did from that day on. When my job permits, I soar among the clouds to see places my friends tell me about first hand, taking in as much of the atmosphere as I can. As a matter of fact I can still feel the heat from the chili I tried while in Texas last weekend. Perhaps I’ll head to the fridge and get a cool glass of milk (I hear it helps cool off your mouth after you have a spicy dish).

Open Ears

2010-02-18T18:21:00.001-08:00

Often we grow up hearing others give us their advice on how things should be done, whether or not we need it at the time. Though laced with good intent, being spoken at in such a manner carves a divide between those involved, growing greater as it continues on. In time, the distance can grow enough to weaken and ultimately destroy any relationships involved, regardless of how many years they have between them. On the other side of the coin, years of damage can be swiftly repaired when this ends, and understanding begins. From my travels I’ve both witnessed and experienced the impact someone feels when they feel they are understood for who they are, not who the person perceives them to be.

I freely admit I’m guilty of going on at length about something with those I wish to help or hold a modicum of respect for. Despite that, I’ve given countless people my ear over the years, and the kinds of things I hear people reveal to me never cease to amaze. Likewise, whenever I speak of more personal things with someone I trust, I can always feel an amazing weight lifting from my shoulders, as well as gaining a greater insight into what my next step should be. Not only do these things fuel my desire to keep my ears (and subsequently my heart) open to others, but also seeing the kind of deep, long lasting hurt having heartfelt words fall on deaf ears can inflict on a person. I can think of nothing more disheartening and painful than the isolation of going unheard can bring, no matter the speaker’s intent.

One key thing I take away whenever I meet someone is the importance of open, honest communication. Of course there are always social norms and other things about the person to keep in mind, but in my view speaking with others without any agenda or unseen intent produces the kind of conversation that deepens the bond two people share and lets both parties know one matters to the other. Whether it’s psychiatrist to patient or friend to friend, it’s this level of trust that dictates how each regards the other and how the relationship blossoms, something long forgotten yet utterly important in this age of instant connections. One sentence rooted in allowing the other person’s view to be considered and dealt with on a level that dignifies them holds much more significance than a 2 hour speech full of helpful information, but treats the listener no better than we’d regard simpletons. Silver tongues can get you far and wide, especially now where it can be seen in global capacities, but even those hold the foundation that those being spoken to are granted that base level of respect, understanding and consideration.

Aftermath

2010-02-04T17:32:00.000-08:00

One of the great inevitabilities in life is that no matter how much patience and wisdom you’ve gained over the years, there will be a time when your kettle reaches maximum pressure, and the steam will have nowhere to go but out. After the fact comes the aftermath of what we must do to better ourselves, for both us and those close to us. No matter how many worthless things we pummel or shatter to release the pressure, the core issue will still remain, and will still eat away at us until substantial action is taken. These raw, uncontrollable feelings can and will lead us places we’ve never even conceived going, and it’s on us to find a way that will lead us back to where we wish to go. If a way isn’t available, we must look within ourselves to hone our talents, skills and emotions to create one, with whatever materials are at hand. These lessons are what I’ve unearthed throughout the years, and to this day I’m discovering how deep they run, and how potent they are in cutting through the muck to locate the truth of who we are.

One fact life often teaches us is under pressure, all of us are mere children who must be receptive to any form of function capable of resolving our issues. I am no different, and many times have I been put in situations where I became utterly lost, with only the knowledge honed in my research, interactions and explorations to guide me. In such tight spots, fear and confusion are the naturally emergent emotions, pushing all our logic and experiences aside and pointing us to mere instinct as a base for our decision. To push any of these aside in favor of another is like trying to peddle a tricycle that’s missing a wheel: if it does go anywhere, it won’t be doing it very well or for very long. As our mind works with our body to maintain a constant, fluid motion, all aspects of our being must work in harmony with each other to either find or make the path we desire to lead us to our destination, wherever that may be. It is that which enables us to rise from our falls, learn from our falls and become better people so such things rarely repeat.

We can never undo what’s already been done, and anyone who says otherwise is preying on your emotions to push their wares on you. That said, we are given the means to try and make amends for what has come to pass, even if that process is slower and more of an ordeal than we expected it to be. If you still have breath in your body, you have what it takes to shift yourself to the place you want to be, and only when you allow it, can that cease to be. For this to become our reality we must hone it not just from some dime a dozen self help book or from people who haven’t even walked a half a step in our shoes, but from within ourselves. See the child working to make things right, be the child working to make things right.

A Certain Age

2010-01-28T17:48:00.001-08:00

After a certain age, one of the questions pivotal to our decisions is ‘What have I done with myself?’ This is something I’ve asked more of myself ever since I graduated high school and began my journey of discovering what it means to be an adult. In my travels I’ve witnessed a rainbow of ways one can define such a concept, many of them leading back to the idea that growing up means giving up everything composing your childhood and accepting the routine that comes with bearing your own weight, along with the weight of those who choose to walk beside you. I freely admit these sorts of things give me a bit of the shivers, but I’ve preparing myself for my journey and looking into what it takes to sustain oneself in the outside world of rent, taxes and bills. In my view, all these things are a mere hill of beans compared to the mountain that is personal freedom to see the world for yourself, with your own two hands.

Individuality v. group mentality has always played a part in how a country’s culture develops, as well as fuelling whether independence or family life is pushed as the ideal; this has also played a part in what paths I travel the older I get and the more important it is to become my ideal. While not fully satisfied with my current station, in the years after my graduation I’ve experienced many things removing the cape over life’s mysteries and witnessed firsthand what kind of commitment growing up entails. In that time I’ve come to know one fact very well: nothing is ever an ideal situation, and the only to turn one to your advantage is to make it so, with whatever is at hand. There are still many major issues for me to confront, on both a personal and professional level, but with everything I’ve learned in my brief time on this planet I’m doubtless I’ll come out on top after all is said and done. Though my ideal might end up being far from my ultimate reality, I will do all in my power to ensure that reality goes north of them, rather than south.

One of the most demoralizing things to do as a person is compare yourself to someone else, and because there will always be someone out there better than you, this will undoubtedly end badly. I have learned that the only bar all of us must surpass is the one we set for ourselves, and if we feel we’re not approaching it, we should identify and resolve what prevents us from this. Much more is still out there for me to achieve, and I will not relent in my pursuit of them until I draw my last breath, which, should my health and dietary habits improve, will be a time a few decades off. Home is where the heart is, and in time I will make that home one I can feel comfortable developing myself in, and perhaps entering the second stage of my life, when children and other affairs enter the picture. Of course, all that will come later, and the important thing is what I can do now, with what I have now, and those I hold close to my heart now.

Windfall

2010-01-21T17:10:00.000-08:00

This is a short I wrote up around the holidays to keep myself in thought about the holiday spirit, and is also tied to a larger project I'm working on with an artist of mine. Read and enjoy, and if you like, drop me a comment.

The slender, ponytailed young waitress brisked through the busy diner, balancing a tray piled with her table’s order. Soon after reaching the customers she said, “Here you go, meals fit for royalty.” as she placed it in front of them. One of her customers, a woman with boyish brown hair and sun kissed skin, asked, “And what kind of royalty orders Bacon Cheeseburgers, Fries and Chocolate Shakes?”

“Why, the kind that knows how to live it up, of course!” A laugh was shared, and a young girl wearing fiery pigtails glanced at the waitress with her emerald eyes and said, “Thank you for the meal.” to her.

“And thank you for coming. Enjoy!”Just as swiftly, the waitress rushed towards the kitchen to continue her shift. The moment she left, the woman slapped her hands together and proclaimed “Alright, let’s dig in!” With a giggle, the girl pulled up the sleeves of her pink turtleneck. Grabbing the burger with a dual grip, she said, “Hope this doesn’t get too messy”

“But the mess is half the fun, Ms. Jones, especially with this kind of food.”

“I guess. I just don’t wanna do things the wrong way, you know, Chisa?” With a gulp, Chisa pointed a fry at her and told her, “If you can’t let yourself do something wrong, you’ll never let yourself do anything.” The girl nodded as she swallowed her bite. Taking a sip of her shake, she took a small, blank envelope from her jean’s pocket, Chisa’s hazel eyes immediately locking onto it. “I’m guessing that has something to do with what you wanna do right?”

“Yeah, it does.” Tapping it on the table, she let out a sigh and fixed her gaze at Chisa’s half-eaten burger, commenting, “Has anyone ever told you ‘you eat like a jackrabbit’?”

“Hmm, don’t remember hearing I eat like one. Also don’t get any funny ideas.”

“Too late.” She said with a smile, munching a French Fry. Chisa rubbed her temple, grunting in irritation before saying, “Anyways, you already heard what I had to say; it’s on you to decide where it goes.” The girl’s eyes contemplated the bulge of the envelope, recalling when she first got it that morning in the park.

***

She held the envelope in her red gloved hand, the winter air rending her breaths like smoker’s puffs. In the rubber caress of the swings, she asked, “So, what is this exactly, Chisa?” Taking her hands out of her plaid jacket’s pocket, Chisa scratched her head and answered, “Not really positive. Lenny just gave it to me, said his spiel and told me to hand it over to you. I remember hearing something about charity.”

“Uncle Lenny must want me to give this away, then.” The girl fell silent, hopping off and sauntering towards the jungle gym. Quickly following, Chisa asked “Is it safe to assume you wanna keep it?”

“Kind of. It’s more about who I should give it to.” She pocketed the envelope and climbed up the ladder, making her way to the suspension bridge as she continued, “I’m assuming Uncle Lenny wants me to give this to a stranger, but I’m not sure who’d deserve to get it.” Chisa, gazing beside her into the morning mist, stated, “Firstly, the fact I still fit on this thing makes me feel incredibly small. Secondly, the way I see it, if kindness had to be earned, this world would have nothing but Grinches and Scrooges, the exact people who need that kindness most.”

“The ones who need it most, are people like them?”

“Yes. Hard to swallow, I know, so lemme put it this way.” Chisa looked over at her and asked, “Remember when you were super sick with the flu?”

“I do. You and Ai took care of me each and every day I was under the weather. Just knowing you cared that much for me gave me so many wonderful feelings.”

“Now, if kindness could do that for you, imagine what it could do for someone working their fingers to the bone, day in and day out, just to get by.” Chisa put her hand on the girl’s shoulder as she said, “Listen, Lenny, Ai and I all agree you’re a good egg and know you’re capable of making the best decision. You have the power to bring light into someone’s life, please don’t ever forget that.”

“I won’t.” The girl gazed up at her and flashed a gentle smile as she said, “Thank you, Chisa.”

“Don’t mention it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna revisit my inner child on the swings. Wanna join?”

“In a little while.” Her attention returned to the envelope in her pocket, considering her next move.

***

Chisa cleaned off her plate, unleashing a long, voluminous belch. “Oh, c’mon, Chisa, that was very-” The girl was cut off by her own series of brief burps. “Very what, Miss Jones?” Looking down at her empty plate, the girl mumbled, “Nothing.”

“Alrighty. So you ready to go?”

“Yeah, just lemme do one last thing…” Jessica whipped out her pen from her jean’s pocket, scribbling on the front of the envelope before flipping it over. Turning to Chisa, she got a silent nod of approval, and they were off. “I hope you like Para Para, Miss Jones.”

“Yay, Para Para!” No sooner after they left did their server, now draped in a black fur coat, as well as a cream colored bag slung over her shoulder, come to snap up her tip. Waving to the cooks in the kitchen, she told them, “Alright, heading off, guys!”

“Have fun and take it easy, Jenni.” As she headed towards her cobalt Toyota Camry, she caught a glimpse of the message on the front of the envelope before stashing it, noticing it read, “Thank you!!” Starting her car up, she thought, “Now that’s just cute. Wonder what’s inside?”

***

A sped up Amen Beat came from her bag, and she snatched up her clamshell cell. Cutting the ignition, she slipped her bag on as she flipped her phone open and pressed it to her ear, asking, “Hey, honey, how are you tonight?” Emerging from her car, she hip bumped the door closed.

“What? Can’t believe you’re working late again.”

She fumbled with her keychain to dig up what would open the front gate door.

“You can’t be the only person willing to work those kinds of hours, can you?”

Her black leather slip-ons echoed against the concrete walkway as she made her way towards her apartment.

“I know, I know, you want me to have extra spending cash, but sometimes I wanna come home from work and talk shop with you in person instead of on our cells.”

She swung the front door open, slipping out of her footwear as she stepped on the plush white carpet inside.

“Alright, I’ll let you get back to your work. See you soon.” Setting them down in a squared off area of neatly placed shoes, Jenni began slipping out of her coat and purse as she closed her cell. She hung them on the packed coat tree behind her, and the envelope falling from her bag caught her eye. Scooping it out of the air, she stroked her chin and, with a chuckle, said, “You know, this might make a dent in my mood.” Her feet cried agony as she eased her way towards the dining room table, her thumb lifting the envelope flap. Inside, she saw the flap had “Please read this 1st” scrawled on it, and removed the letter it held. Sinking into her seat, she softly recited the message to herself.

No matter how bad things get, please don’t forget about the people bringing light into your life. They’d give the world to see you see you smile, like you’d do for them. And much like you, they often do it and get nothing in return, not that they’d ever ask for much. We all have at least some appreciation of these kinda people, but unless they know this somehow, they’ll never get what they mean to our lives. I ask that you keep this in mind as you receive this token of my gratitude for what you do.

She peeked in the envelope, then up at the slow cooker in the middle of the table. Reaching over and flipping the lid open, she saw a fresh batch of Beef Stew awaiting her arrival. With startled breaths, she thought to herself, “Is this the recipe I taught him when we first met? Can’t believe he actually remembered…” She made her way to the cupboard to grab a ladle, bowl and spoon, speed dialing her beloved and immediately getting his machine. Gathering her implements, she left this on it as she served herself:

Hey, it’s me, Jenni. Just wanted to tell you something you haven’t heard much from me lately: Thank you. For everything. I know you’ve been working yourself silly these past few weeks, and that I’ve been riding you pretty hard for it. Though I do wish you were home more often, I realize you’re working those crazy hours for our sake. For my sake. I don’t say it much, but I do appreciate all you do for me, especially when you whip up my favorite dish out of the blue, like you did tonight. You mean more to me than you’ll ever know, and I’ll do something special for you, just so you can see how serious I am. Hope to see you when you get off of the workhorse.

Closing her cell, she sat at the table and ladled herself a piping hot serving of stew. Savoring each tender morsel of meat and the richness of the Roux, she thought to herself, “Like a rave in my mouth. Definitely gonna give it to him something fierce.”

Bit by Bit

2009-12-06T22:10:00.000-08:00

Who do we want to be? What is our reason for doing what we do? Where, exactly, is our ideal place? These are questions I believe to be vital in the development of human beings on their way to developing themselves and shaping the kind of world they want to live in, as well as live the kind of life they feel would be worth recording. More often than not, these are questions that remain unspoken in our desire to attain all we need to live the way we desire, whether it's clothing, jewelery or other such things. Once all of that is stripped away, the core of who we are is all that remains, raising the question of what, exactly, is residing in that core.

Time and again, have I seen the kinds of hollow existences it has created in those around me, friend and foe alike. It has inspired me to continue looking inwards for the answers I sought. If there's anything I've gained in my journeys, it's that whatever those answers may be, they never stay solid like concrete, but rather shapeless like water, taking whatever shape is needed to contain what we need to see.Those unwilling to relinquish what binds them will begin discovering how little they know of where to go on to next, much like the man who tries to take water with only his hands, only to find it slipping through his fingers. Only when we're willing to relinquish the life we know now can the life we deeply desire be made clearer and more detailed, coming closer and closer to our grasp.

The life beyond being able to eat, sleep and sustain existence is a foggy, frightening place for anyone to even think about, much less step into and seriously explore. It is this life, however, that makes us complete human beings and enables us to push forward during the hardest times, knowing we have an aim we must achieve, lest we disappoint ourselves. Often times it takes something drastic to shake out of our comfort coma and see ourselves for who are, and what the next step must be, but it is this experience that can shape the very course of our lives for something even the mind's eye cannot envision. Fears not the questions, nor the answers they summon, for they help to chip away at the slab of our lives and shape something of great majesty and beauty. Once we give ourselves these tools, we are freed to sculpt ourselves into whatever fashion best fulfills us and how we choose to live.

Controlling the Flow

2009-11-28T23:49:00.000-08:00

"I don't like your rules, so I'mma make my own!" is the statement many of us harbor when confronted with situations that don't mesh with the beliefs we hold dear, whether it's business or personal matters. We often either rebel against these things by not performing them, or go along with them and hope that the flow caries us towards what our heart desires. As those who travel either path know, that often leads us even further away from what we want than where we began and hones thoughts of doing the opposing option, repeating the process and increasing the distance. From what I've learned, the way to make your hopes into something tangible is not going with the flow, but to have the flow go along with us. In doing so we add not only our energy towards achieving an end, but also the energy of the forces besides us, ready to push forward and make things happen. For that to take place, though, the initial reality must be accepted, that we cannot control every single detail within our life and must relinquish such things to time and nature.

There are many versions of the saying "Different strokes, different folks" but most of the time we do not see the message lying behind them all: Their work plan may not go with the way our's functions, nor would they want to change it, so it can. Because of that, countless moments of friction build up take place, and countless opportunities are lost to work as one and create a better world for all involved. The line between inner and outer control is a razor thin one we walk every single day, and to walk that means letting bit of tension flow away from us, in order to walk precisely, yet calmly towards the place we wish to be. In the world we live, this means putting all pettiness concerning opposing view points and approaches fall to where they belong: in a bottle that's thrown to the sea, to wash away with the tides. That process begins by speaking to the people we oppose and working out the best way the two worlds can function together and create something that benefits all involved.

The greatest leaders of our time are seen as people who made their belief known and imposed on a scale previously unseen or unheard of at that point in time, and in my view that's not particularly true. Rather, I think they took the desires of the people around them and channeled them into their own, thus letting people connect with them on a deeper level and adding fuel to grow their fire. That much, I believe, is the key to both enabling and continuing the creation of the kind of world we envision; common beliefs are what let so many different kinds of organizations grow onwards in influence, in power and in size , after all. Why not harness that same power, and the world and everything in it come rushing to you, instead of you pursuing it as the greyhounds pursue the mechanical rabbit they will never catch? There's a reason the most idiotic seeming bosses can control people clearly smarter, more skilled and overall better than them, and the moment you realize that reason, the path of a world full of amazement and fulfillment can take root and grow.

Taking the helm of a ship among the waves

2009-11-25T09:15:00.000-08:00

One of the most telling things about a person's future is how they conduct themselves when something goes awry and everything is pulling them in every other direction, thanks to no one being sure of what they plan was. It's under these situations adults are sifted from the children and brought to the forefront to help guide people back to the place they should be. This applies not only to personal matters, but professional and academic as well, and is something rarely taught by something other than life. It's often the case that life itself presents us these situations from out of the blue to test our mettle and have us show the world the stuff we're forged from, and whether or not it can withstand the kind of pressure present in everyday society. Recently, one of those moments came to me, in the form of my Japanese class.

Last week the entire class was discussing when we should take the big test, and all of us agreed to the following Thursday, teacher included. What absolute none of us realized, was that the next Thursday was Thanksgiving, and that school would not be in session that day. The next Tuesday the teacher came in and announced she made a mistake, and that we were to take the test that day, with the fact that none of us were expecting it to happen so soon. There was much uproar within the classroom about this fact, and some were so upset that they actually began to cry. Some people wanted to delay it to next week, but the teacher said she wanted to do it today, and guarantee that everyone would pass, but if everyone wanted it next week, they would get it without the pass guarantee. Given how much this whole mix up and subsequent actions has affected everybody, I decided that it should be the class choice of where we go next.

I, and one other held a vote on what we should do next, and by a overwhelming majority of 18-5 went with the initial option of doing it that day, under the condition every single person would be guaranteed a passing grade at the bare minimum, as she promised(unsurprisingly, the minority was the same few slackers who manage to consistently fail on the test and cannot see the beauty of having a GUARANTEED PASSING GRADE). I was so angered by the mix up that I decided I would get the results in writing and have the teacher sign it so no one could complain about the decision or debate it further when results come back. Since I had been drilling myself on getting the class homework done, the test came off as much easier than I had anticipated, and I ended up going home early, but for the rest of the class, I was glad to have given them the chance to decide their fate and choose the ultimately better option. It's this kind of take charge leadership I plan to take with me in my personal ventures, where my crew needs me to sheer the ship where it needs to be, wherever that may be.

Closing the Mouth & Opening the Ears to See the Heart

2009-11-08T15:22:00.000-08:00

At some point in time, all of us face a moment of critical peril, where everything we know and cherish is put up against the fire. Having both seen people in this state and visited this place many times, one thing is always clear: the thing most needed isn't advice or being told where to go next. but to know that someone is there to simply sit and listen. Though I've known this well for many years, it's something I still relearn in new ways each time I come across someone in their hour of need. Truly understanding someone does not mean reading through information they may have put up here and there, then using that as a base for your actions; that information is static and can quickly become irrelevant as a person goes through their day and discovers things that could very well change their life. On the contrary, the best way one can understand another is to let the person simply tell it to you as they see it, and then seeing their world through their eyes.

Whether it's between a Psychologist and their patient or a child speaking to their parent, the most essential element to aiding the emergence and growth of the person during these times is trust. With it there the person feels they can communicate more freely and entrust them with the core of what troubles them, where then there may be a chance to show them something better or help them better understand themselves. The opposite of this occurs when that's broken either by telling others about it without consent, or not listening to them and merely spouting off random bits of wisdom in an attempt to guide them through hard times, both of which erode the rapport built up and break down lines of communication. No one ever likes to be judged or be treated like a machine can be fixed by approaching the issue in a prescribed manner learned through books and training, and doing so only further alienates people from one another. What people value most are those who would give them the opportunity to speak without being interrupted or judged, then, through understanding and careful guidance, being granted the tools need so they can do it on their own, and craft their own path.

These things are never easy for others to learn, and I frequently encounter new subtleties and variations to these age old ways. With that said, even the attempt to do such things lets other people how much you regard them, and grants them a greater measure of worth as a human being, something many of us needs reminders of now and again. Books have been, and will continue to be written about how to help people and what they should do about their concerns, however even the best of those can only offer basic advice to others about their specific troubles and concerns. There will never be a one size fits all solution to every person's individual issue, but through listening we can come to better know the person and how to best help them approach the situation. Listen to the person and be curious about the person and their concerns; don't tell them 'I'm listening' show them. In that, the process of healing and understanding can truly take place and begin to blossom in the hearts and minds of those involved

Drawing Away from the Faceless Gaze

2009-10-30T22:47:00.000-07:00

Since the days of kings and queens, the most important thing to the development of society has never been goods or what buys it, but rather catching the gaze of the one possessing it. It has, and will continue to drive people to do things ranging from taking a blow to the groin to recreating masterpieces with Lego's, on top of what no man can currently imagine. Of course, as with many things it isn't just gaining their eyes that drives these acts, but rather what those involved receive from them: validation of their existence. With that validation comes the comfort that the lives of those involved have some sort of meaning, whether it's the ones doing it or those talking about it. Eventually, with the act done and time marching onwards, the question arises within us all: what other meaning can life possibly have?

Although the answer is almost always that we must create our own validation and our own reason, the path to discovering that answer is long and difficult for all involved, each one different from the ones who've walked it before, and those who have yet to come across it. My own path has involved many years of societal isolation and honing my own image, rather than the image those around wish of me. In uncovering my answer I've witnessed many others struggle with finding it, turning to various substances and activities to either help make it more lucid, or ease the pain seeking it ensues. Regardless of how it's done, it all reinforces one key aspect to why many never find it, or at least don't hold on to it for very long: all their strength and sense of balance is placed onto a crutch, and when it goes so does their balance. Even if that does take place, it tends to show those people how important it is to create their own center and keep it within, and not without.

This much I've learned many times in many ways, each one offering me something valuable towards the kind of person I desired to be. I've long ago decided to draw my worth from my acts and what I can offer to others, and have all but given up on the concept of letting other's views influence my sense of confidence. All of us have that very same choice available to us, no matter where we stand or how we choose to be. When we let go of pursuing the high the gaze of the faceless mass brings we free ourselves to discover our own center, where we create the meaning of life we desire and wish to let others share. From there we learn to create the goods that lay for path for the kind of life we've long only seen in our dreams, emotional or otherwise.

Ice Cream Cruise

2009-10-16T22:11:00.000-07:00

Sometimes if you want to make your dreams come true you have to be willing to put everything on the line for that goal, and for one particular aim, that is what I did on that night. There's an ice cream truck on Twitter called Cool Haus that I've always heard about on the news, but never got the chance to try since they mostly operate in LA. When I saw on their Twitter they were operating at a 'nearby' event I knew that would be one of my only chances so far to have a crack at it, so on a pure whim and with Google directions in hand I set off on my bike to find it. The 10+ miles of travel went mostly smooth except for one very sketchy aspect: the second to final stretch of traveling alongside a man made river that would lead me to the street where it awaited me.

The first incident involved getting off at the wrong exit point, which lead me to edge of another city and me to asking several people for directions, eventually leading to what would've taken me to my destination...had it not been blocked off by several objects, one being immovable without endangering traffic. The next lead me to the correct exit point, but that exit point was right next to freeway traffic, with the path I was supposed to bike being incredibly rocky; so rocky in fact, that by the time I realized traffic was close enough to squash my bike and had to plot an alternate route, it had worn out the bell crank of my bike.

After reaching the street that would lead me to the event and asking for a few more directions, I had finally arrived. With the ride leaving me extremely hungry, I opted to first procure something close to a proper dinner, which at the event involved a hot dog, small bag of chips and a can of soda. The cost of that simple meal? $5. Though the hot dog was good, I was still very miffed as I went to go order my Cool Haus ice cream. Since I knew I wouldn't be seeing this truck again for a good while I ordered the craziest ice cream they offered at the time: Earl Grey ice cream sandwiched between two chocolate chip cookies. The result made everything that happened from that day on worth my while, and after topping my meal off with a $2 pizza slice I rode home, extremely satisfied with both the food I ate and that I created the necessary courage to undertake such a perilous journey, enriching my ability to do the same with others I may have to take on my path to being independent.

A fork in the Road

2009-10-04T01:33:00.000-07:00

In this world exist many things that we, under little to no circumstances, can halt, change or take back. Drunk drivers take the lives of loved ones, something of ours is robbed from under our noses, we state things so vile and cruel they leave marks that cannot be erased on those who hear them. No matter what we do to make these right, they will always remain with us in one form or another. However,what we can do in such situations is control how we let them shape us. The kind of person we grow to be is always under our control, for us to either treasure or toss aside as we see fit.

In my life I've witnessed many things come to pass, each one revealing the question of how I choose to take it into me and change me. It never grows any easier to make these decisions, but they always show something I'll take with me to the end of the earth, or at least until another event confronts me about the path I've chosen. Whether I lose or gain something precious, I've always seen something there, offering me a piece of to take and shape how I wish, if I choose to take it as my own. I've determined that everything that takes place is a chance for me to create something I can learn from, and in turn pass it on to those I come across in my travels, who may turn out to need it more than I will ever come to understand. Regardless of what comes to be, I know without doubt this path will always be there, and it is the path I will travel until my time arrives.

This choice, among many others, is something I believe exists for all of us. Regardless of background, upbringing or anything else, all of us hold the power to at the least take steps towards creating our own future. Even if we fail at it, the things we gain from pursuing it can never be robbed from us, and neither can the kind personality we develop as a result. We can cry, laugh, get angry, or any number of things in accordance to how something turns out, but these actions are of our choosing and ours alone, saying otherwise gives control of how to grow to both the circumstances and who they involve. That control is key to traveling a road of many paths and many forks in those paths, and no matter where they lead, we always have the choice to begin anew, or build upon what our travels offer us

AberAsian (Losing Touch)

2009-09-19T21:25:00.000-07:00

One of my old OpEd pieces, in which I discuss what it means to stick to your roots and your cultural identity. Read and if you got something in say, drop me a line in the comments

First, an explanation of the term: it is coined, from the fact that most Asian teens are seen donning some form of the Abercrombie and Fitch apparel. And the fact they typically display the intellectual capacity of a stereotypical Valley kid(in other words, dumb as a rock.). From my vantage point, they're also served to display the rather upsetting lack of culture and connection most people have with their roots, in this modern society.

Everyone around the world seems more concerned with the problems of major celebrities, than with the troubles that face them everyday. A 22' rim seems to have higher value, than the history and customs of their mother/fatherland. Even something as basic as family togetherness is lost in the shuffle of things that are new and shiny. Everything must be fast and responsive, or it is not even acknowledged. Why walk, when you can ride a bike? Why ride a bike, when you can drive? Why drive, when you can have someone do it for you? Ease of use, convenience, and simplicity seem to be the mantra of this overtly complex world we live in everyday.

We can't do the things we did in our childhood, no matter how enjoyable and fun they may be. As we grow, society says we have to shed the things we've held onto then, and let newer, more mature things become us. Don't express, it's ultimately pointless. Don't stand out, then you'll have no friends or influence. Don't speak out, then everybody's gonna hate your guts. In this slow and painful transformation, we become what they consider to be upstanding, respectable, and someone that could have the car(s) they want, go to the places they want, and meet the people they want. All of it can be yours, if you choose to climb the ladder. Unlike many, though, I choose to leave the ladder, for the other attention starved fools to cling on to.

I wear clothes, if they are comfortable(unless my stylist chooses otherwise for me). I do things, because I like them. I'm who I am, because I chose to be it. If I do fall under category, it is coincidence, and never deliberate. I may or may not unique, but I am in no way trying to be anyone else. I am not you, you are not me. I can be the best me, I can possibly be. My roots are stained in despair and regret, but they make me who I am, and I choose to not sever them. They make me strong, and they will give me the strength and will to rise above and beyond. I am not, and never will be a part of the crowd, but choose to be it's observer, offering my words to those brave enough to seek me out. And with my skills, it is my hope to get others, to do the same.

Find your roots. Know your past, and find the will and capability to fully comprehend it. Do not choose to hide your true self behind a mask of vanity, and materialism. Our things do not, and should not make us their own. Rather, we make them into extensions of ourselves, and our own beings, if we find the strength not to fall under it's spell, and allure. Nothing can take away who are we, if we choose not to allow it. It is our decision, whether we want to fall into the crowd, or stand on the strength of our own two legs. Strength may come in numbers, but the group's chain is only as strong as it's weakest link.

The Mile High Club

2009-09-07T18:21:00.000-07:00

Another one of my older poems, back when I was in much less control of my hormones.*laughs* Red and enjoy, and if you have something to say, comment

"I've always wonder what it felt like to fly...
So i decided to join the club called 'Mile High'

It felt like I was floating, free...
No one else but my lover and me.

Our bodies entwined in a frantic dance...
Our souls searching for true romance.

But then, in a flash, his wife opened the door.
And for me, the mile high club was no more"

Broken arm, but not a broken spirit

2009-08-29T02:41:00.000-07:00

One of the very first serious pieces I wrote for any purpose, and where I began my journey into the self and becoming a better writer. Hopefully it serves me ell as I travel the path to bettering my skills and myself.

Something funny happened to me today; i was playing on the inflatable obstacle course the school had on for display, and the minute i entered the hole, i planted my hands frontward to catch myself...and busted my arm like a twig( i could tell that when i heard the *pop-pop-Crack* of my elbow against the plastic) It was one of the worst pains i ever felt in my life. AND YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE? The teacher that watched it all happen said "it was only a sprain." Even as i stumbled around like some drunken idiot from the lack of blood flowin' to my noggin. luckily for me, my friend happened to be nearby and took me to the nurse. I must've tried every number in the records before i finally got a hold of my bro, who immediately dropped me off at the house 'cause he had to go to work. As i lay in bed, staring up at the celing, i thought, 'what now? How am i supposed to write and draw if i can't even use my strong arm?(BTW, my right one was my strongest)' I had plenty of time to stew it over when i went to the hospital and got my arm checked out. for hours i waited and pondered, waited and pondered, waited and pondered about what i was gonna do.it was some time later i came to this conclusion, 'this is bullshit. i cant let some disability stop me from doing what i want to do. Black Sabbath's guitarist lost the tips of his fingers, and hes known as one of the greatest guitarists in all rock history. AC/DC's drummer lost his left arm, and he worked around it to be one of the best drummers in rock and roll history. Hell, Mary(names have beeen changed to protect the innocent) has epilepsy, and she makes one of the best colored webmangas out there. If they can work around their disabilities, then so can I." With the path I'm taking (writer, Japanese voice actor, whatever else i feel like), theres absolute NO ROOM for doubt and setbacks get the best of me. To all that read this, i will only tell you one thing: Don't let the circumstances let the best of you. Learnto take your depression and turn it into your fire to succeed. Learn to make your disabilities work for you. Learn to see the silver lining in every dark cloud. your life will be richer for it, i know mine is. And to mary...thank you for being my constant inspiration and strong role model i never had... (p.s. i wrote all this with one arm, if you couldn't tell that already.)

The Call

2009-08-20T00:53:00.000-07:00

This is a short I was preparing for quite a while before I felt comfortable enough to put it up with my other works. In this one the subjects being observed are involved in what happens when the delicate social balance all of us maintain happens to stray out of balance, which of course can lead to dire consquences. As always, read and if you have something to say, comment.

Melanie returned home from cheering the high school football team to victory that night, her wavy brown hair stuck to her face as she reached the front porch. Her hot pink sneakers lightly treaded the oaken steps, her cell phone vibrating in her stonewashed denim jeans. Grabbing the slim lavender phone from her back pocket she flipped it open and answered, “Hello, this is Melly, who’s calling?”

“Someone you should not have messed with.” Pulling up her keys by the small, metallic pink chain they hung on she jiggled the door as she said, “Ugh, what are you, some nerd my boyfriend beat up?” The warped, raspy voice responded, “You could say that. Turn on your living room lights, Melly.” Flipping on her ceiling lamp she saw a varsity jacket clad boy with a flowing blond mane. His broad figure was propped up on the black leather couch. As she approached him she began seeing bits of red around his neck and a gash growing greater and greater across his throat. Her mouth went agape, eyes fixed open as the voice said, “So did you see it, Melly? The lifeless eyes, the pale face, the cut I gladly carved into your boytoy’s neck?” With her hands trembling she held the phone in front of her and yelled, “Just who the hell are you, you freak?”

“Who I am isn’t important. What is important is what I’ve left waiting for you in your room.” Melanie made a mad dash up the stairs to her room, bursting in to see her raven haired best friend face down on her lace trimmed bed, a butcher’s knife pierced through the nurse’s uniform she wore. Her body violently shook as she recoiled, holding the phone close to her ear as the voice said, “Well? Did you manage to find surprise #2?” Soft sobs escaped her as she made her way towards the swinging front door and said, “Why are you doing this to me? What could I have possible done to deserve this? And why now, of all nights?”

“The answer is quite simple, my dear Melly. Your best friend betrayed my trust, your boyfriend broke my heart and you’re the one that stabbed me in the back and twisted the dagger. As for your brother, well…his breathless body will lay on your lawn to remind you of your actions.” At that moment she saw her Frankenstein-clad brother crumpled over, face down in a pile of leaves. Then, as if on cue, the voice said, “But before you call the police listen to what I have to say. You can report me to the cops and give me a chance to manipulate the system and let myself out, or you can grab a knife, come to the park and try and stop me yourself. The choice is yours, so what’ll it be, Melly?” Without hesitation she dropped the phone and ran for the chef’s knife lying on the kitchen table. Keys to her Porsche Boxster in hand she hopped into the car and sped off as she screamed, “I’ll get you, you son of a bitch!” Moments later her little brother staggered to his feet, holding his stomach and saying, “Man, I didn’t know they fed you so much at costume parties…”

***

The roar of the Boxster’s engines echoed through the night air, Melanie pulling up to the swinging gates of the park entrance. With knife in hand Melanie hopped out and yelled, “I’m here to get you, you freak!” She prowled around the park’s forest, her eyes seeking anything remotely human to stab. After an eternity of searching she found an illuminated silhouette at the other end of the park. Without fail she dashed toward it as she said, “I hope you’re ready for me, ‘cause here it comes!” With sprinter grade speed she held the knife high and prepared to put everything into killing the twisted monster she saw in front of her. Just as she felt close enough to run it through she felt several heavy people tackle her to the ground. With polished black hush puppies staring her in the face she looked up to see a crew cut officer say, “Melanie Lane, you’re under arrest for the attempted murder of Kiri Aobayashi” As the officer read her rights she heard a soft, demure voice say, “I always knew you didn’t like me, but I never would’ve guessed you hated me this much…” To the right of the officer she saw a coquettish, pig tailed young girl dressed in a Catholic school girl’s uniform and grew furious, struggling and squirming as she screamed, “What the fuck did you expect? You killed my best friend, boyfriend and brother!”

“Killed? Me? That can’t possibly be right. They were with me the whole night at a costume dinner party. I’ll even call them right now, if you want.” At that moment Kiri pulled out her modest black cell phone, with Melanie letting out psychotic bellows as she dialed. A moment later Kiri said, “Hello, Chelsea? You sound a bit sleepy, maybe you should rest a bit more. Yes the makeup and such was very elaborate, but it did surprise everyone, didn’t it? Well my ride’s coming soon so I’ll catch you later.” As Kiri hung up she saw the police cars pull away with Melanie huddled in the back of one of them. A wicked grin crossed her face as she walked away from the scene and said, “See you around, Melly.”

Unscripted Connections

2009-07-29T21:06:00.000-07:00

To help keep the flow going while I finish up a few shorts and articles for various places here's an anticle I wrote for an old online publication a while back. Read and enjoy(note the article was originally made for a site I still frequent on occassion).

Scripts can dictate many things. In games, they dictate the games responses, and how much damage that blow to the skull actually does to a person. Online, they guide us to the places we want to go, and format things to the way the pagemaster wants. In various MMOs they dictate what kind of clothes we wear, how our responses look, and how the site itself looks. However, the one thing a script can't dictate, are the kinds of connections we make, to the people we meet here. All across the Internet, people have bonded with those they may have never even considered, offline. Gaia is certainly not an exception. General Discussion, Extended Discussion, Anime/Manga/Comics, all of them are merely gathering places for people to chat amongst themselves, and seek out people they could consider friends, and in some cases, something more. While it is true there are many deceivers out there, the anonymity the Internet provides have allowed people to become more open and honest, than they may even initially realize. And with the facelessness, can also come the courage to reach out for help, in ways real life circumstances may stifle.

If you want proof of this, take a look at any place within Gaia. In General Discussion, they are bonded by the chances they are given to bond, and share their lives with the people they come to know and love. Some even speculate it's much like hanging out with your friends in high school(if hanging out with your friends meant having someone randomly show you a mentally scarring picture, of course). Within the Extended Discussion, is a place for any and all people to express their views, and to perhaps seek enlightenment from people who live a different way of life. In the Art Shops & Requests, you can find fellow artists, and find ways to improve your own art, or find new ways to draw and render your pieces, and perhaps purchase some of their art, for yourself. But within these forums, and all others, lie a common theme: Allowing yourself to speak to new people, and letting yourself connect to the people that wish to know you better.

Offline, people face hardships and challenges on a daily basis. Home lives, where the parents constantly bicker and fight. Working jobs that take much more, than they give. Inner demons we battle everyday we wake up. With places like Gaia, we can turn to people we couldn't normally find, and come to them for advice and perhaps a shoulder to cry on, in their greatest time of need. And from this, can emerge the people we come to call the things we cherish most, as seen in this statement from Blissful Oblivion. "There are people I would gladly die for, who I've met online. x) Some are real life friends, some are correspondents from around the world who share things in common. Some are even role models that I may look up too. Surely one may lie and totally be a faker, but I believe them to some extent XD (If I wanted to I can write a long book on the ones I'm really close to , on these sorta sites x) )" It's common knowledge the reason anything online, that thrives and prospers, is because of the community that place builds, and Gaia is certainly not an exception. In time, people we come to see here as strangers, we may come to see as friends. Friends as confidants. Confidants, as the people we cherish, more than anything in this world. And with the strength and courage these people provide us with, we may be able to discover the strength within ourselves to make these online bonds something more. Something we're to see face to face. Something we can hear and feel. Something we can call our own, and have nothing rob us, of the unscripted connection we all share.

Explorations of a Simple Complexity

2009-07-15T23:53:00.000-07:00

This one is an essay I've been refining for an English class for the past couple weeks(thus why I haven't been here awhile). The first topic she gave us was telling her who we are and why we are the way we are. and I gladly obliged. Read and enjoy, and as always let me know what you think in the comments.

Ever since I learned how to read, the curiosity floodgates have been thrown open, my thoughts flowing towards unseen terrain. That same curiosity led me to take writing in high school, and the craft has become an extension of my being from then on, giving the voice within a medium to express itself. Around that time Japan and Japanese culture also sparked my interest, slowly growing into the centerpiece of many of my works, including the novel and web-comic I’ve been working on for quite a while. Writing more about the country I began to find greater curiosity in the human condition, in both the psychological and philosophical aspects. One of the concepts of this that continues to fascinate me is the Bystander Effect; in which if someone is in need of aid we’re much more likely to do it if alone than from among a crowd of people. Including that, my craft has taken me down many roads over the years and continues to reveal places untouched, even among the places I’ve already been. If anything one of the running themes in my life is questioning; from why the sky is blue to what my place in the universe is I’ve been looking for endless amounts of things to satisfy my curiosity. In seeking them I’ve unlocked the gates of my mind, discovered maps to places even my mind has yet to tread and made the chance to go and see them first hand.

As is common among young lads my concept of both life and the self was as clear as mud, with writing revealing the gleam under the dirt. I remember well how much my early works revealed my tenuous grasp on complex issues like racism and relationships; in particular the novel I started then was rife with soap opera level drama and sexuality. Even so, there was more I wanted to see in both who I was and what I could create, which kept me filling page after essay after short story over the years. Starting my novel actually sparked my interest in the various subcultures I’ve started writing about and has propelled me to clock in hours upon hours of research paired with hours and hours of drafting and editing, including the volumes of material I’ve collected about Los Angeles and UCLA for an ongoing project I’m still developing. When times were most dire and my curiosity blazed brightest writing connected me to the voice deep inside, the answers I sought flowing through my pen and onto the page. Various family and personal crisis have greatly fueled this, especially when my sole connection to the people I felt closest with was severed and my only implement of expression available to me for many months was writing. In times like these my works served to not only slake my inner thirst, but also act as a road map for whenever I felt lost. This proved true when I fell into confusion about moving from my former residence of 9 years and an old short story of mine instilled the knowledge I sought to move forward. Moving forward has helped introduce me to many things, people and places, the most interesting of which coming to be about a place far to the east.

As I grew older I could feel the next stage of my life coming and knew I needed to do something great so I could prepare to make that jump. One of the things often recommended to help complete a youngster’s transition from that stage of their life to the next is acclimating themselves to a entirely foreign culture and language, eventually working up to traveling to the country itself and learning its way of life, thereby creating a new perspective of ourselves and greater appreciation for both their culture and ours. Some choose France while others may go for Italy, but the country that caught my eye was Japan. Everything from the food to their outlandish styles of entertainment highly captivated me and motivated me to delve into what the country itself had in store. When I first got into it I only knew about the geeky aspects, like the animation, games and so on, putting a rather warped view on how I perceived the country as a whole to be. Once I got into the more traditional aspects of it, as well as some of the more underground scenes my eyes popped open to a whole new world of possibilities, from the slower paced hard work style of living out in the fields to the delicate balance of loyalty and power within the country’s crime syndicates, some even active right here in the United States. When I found out about these wildly different ways of life I knew without a doubt I had to go in head first and dig up as much information and knowledge as I could. With time and deep study of each kind of culture present in Japan something began taking shape in the depths of my thoughts, some unstated connection shared between people of all countries, races and professions. That shape became infinitely more defined when I decided to get on my bike and make my way towards the Japanese Cultural Festival they have each year in Long Beach. After enjoying a bowl of Chili Rice while watching an Ondo dance and hearing the earth shaking thumps of the Taiko Drum performances later that night I came home with a much clearer understanding of what it means to study and appreciate another culture. What I came to understand that night is that there are no racial or cultural prerequisites to studying a culture unlike your own besides passion and an honest desire to understand what you’re looking into. The understanding I gained in that time told me no matter what barriers different cultures have between them, all of them deal with the same issues all people face, in understanding that basic shared humanity do those barriers weaken and crumble, revealing the richness waiting to be experienced and answer the questions we may still hold about it.

The greater challenge, of course, comes from understanding the values we share on top of the preconceptions we may carry with us about those of certain races, classes and professions. I’m sure there aren’t many who hold rap musicians or jocks in very high regard, and I was among them when I began studying the deeper aspects of these basic humanities. Coming from the same format of school many in this nation hail from, I came to see the different classifications people put on themselves and others, as well as the friction that arises from two opposing factions clashing with one another, seeking to discover what common ground each of us share. One particularly vivid show of this friction was the constant tension between some of the black and Hispanic males at my old high school, sometimes growing so great fights broke out in the blink of an eye. As both a writer and an aspiring teacher one thing I want to help do is spread the knowledge needed to quell such fierce flames, and I know to help others overcome these perceptions I must first do so within myself. Each day I learn more about the things that link us to each other and each day I discover even more to this that I have yet to understand. Knowing this drives me to open my mind even further than before, to be more accepting of those around me, even if their beliefs are the polar opposite of my own. I continue to seek out this knowledge to dissolve whatever preconceptions I may hold and free myself to take in the wisdom that flows all around me, so that not only I can gain from it, but others I come across, as well.

Often it’s said that curiosity killed the cat, but seeing that death comes regardless of consequences that saying isn’t something I ascribe particularly close to, nor would I recommend it to others as a way of living. When a mind is closed off to discovery and questioning, a severely limited amount of personal growth is often the case, and thusly people never find out what could be waiting to be found or shown to the world. That kind of life is something I’ve witnessed far too often, in both the media and my personal comings and goings. I highly encourage people to get out there and seek out their desired answers, especially now that more tools than ever are available to do so. I admit I’ve made my fair share of wrong answers in my life, but that is to be expected when seeking out answers. From doing it incorrectly, it is discover how to do it correctly, if not invent something entirely new from this supposed mistake, such as with the invention of Corn Flakes and the discovery of Penicillin. This, among many other things, keeps me wondering about the world at hand and where I can obtain the knowledge I seek, as well as what must be done to obtain it. Above all, there is one key question that stays with me from the moment I wake to the moment I lay to rest: What will I find out about the world and the people around me today?

Gym Rat

2009-07-01T18:44:00.000-07:00

This is a a short inspired by a prompt I got from another place I often go to. Hopefully it reaches the people who are trying to shape themselves into who they want to be.

"I must be dreamin or...
We're on to somethin'

I must be dreamin' for...
I don't fall in-"

The palm of her hand smacked down on the snooze button of her musical alarm clock. Her auburn eyes leered at the turquoise digital numbers as they glowed "5:30 AM". Crawling out from under her plaid blue sheets she grasped around the nightstand until she felt the cool wooden handle of her fine tooth comb and dragged herself out of bed. She lurched towards the body length mirror propped on the opposite end of her cozily decorated room. As she combed her rich brown hair into its familiar feathered form, her free hand reached for the side of her abs, seeing how much of herself she could grab. She only managed to fill her fingertips, yet as she looked up from her hand, she saw the image burned into her memory when she first began this routine 2 months ago.

She slouched on the couch with her mom and brother, laughing at the sitcom they loved so dearly as she saw a severely obese man run on a treadmill. Her candy bar rolling around on her tongue, she was fixated on the way his blubber swirled around like the ocean waves. Her family laughed and laughed, but she soon noticed her own family was not in much better shape than the man on the TV, and as it soon came to be in her own mind, neither was she. At that moment she began to scrutinize what was left of her candy bar, handing it off to her brother before heading outside for a bike ride. That evening she rode all the way to the edge of town and back, all the while swearing to herself she'd do what was needed to avoid becoming such a hideous monstrosity.

She slinked into her powder blue gym sweats and butterfly emblazoned tanktop, all the while noshing on the granola bars she kept in her gym bag. With all components on hand she power walked to the door and loaded her bag and bottle in her adult tricycle's basket. Her earphones on and music pumping she began her journey anew, peddling hard all 3.5 miles to the local gym before doing her pre-exercise warm up stretches, then doing 3 sets of 25 pushups, 3 sets of 35 crunches, 2 sets of 25 chin ups(switching grips with each set)3 sets of 20 leg curls with the machine set at 140 pounds, and 3 sets of 20 bench presses at nearly twice her body weight, plus many more varied in and out of her routine everyday. Her body tired and slick with sweat, she takes a few laps in the gym swimming lanes before finally relaxing in the hot tub and showering off, dressing up and returning home to prepare for school later in the day. As she rides home she passes by a portly gentleman eating a big, juicy burger, showing her the one thing she's wanted to do since she began this: the ability to smile.

Drawing The Line

2009-06-24T18:28:00.000-07:00

One of the most interesting things I've seen is the blurring between what's portrayed over eletronic wires and what's lived away from it. In the past work and home were separate worlds we entered and left as needed, rarely intersecting. These days even the most mundane of our thoughts can be instantly cast out to the world for anyone willing to see. With what comes the possibility of bring forever perpetuated, forever reaping whatever they may bring. Now more than ever the need to develop a face we want the world to see has been made crystal clear, especially with how far reaching our actions can be.

In my wanderings I've witnessed the shocking extent one's electronic life rooted into their reality, to the point where they would feel invalid without it. I know this well for I've also went through this process for many years, my very stability hinging on the words of another. Now I'm rediscovering the way I wish to shape who I am, to both myself and the world. While they'll still be quite intertwined one will not control the other, my first priority is bettering myself and my world. One becomes their best when their strength is allowed to bloom not from without, but from within.

Balancing openness and restraint is a key part of establishing identity, one I'm still coming to grips with. With each passing day I uncover the boundaries between the two worlds and what it means to walk the lines between them. Learning the walk the line is to learn the ebb and flow, better knowing when to drift like a stream and torrent like a waterfall. Through that we shape a more distinctive figure, one we know we're proud to have others follow and one we're more than glad to upkeep. After all who we portray is how others will know us to be, and we do want others to know our best, do we not?

Patiently Waiting

2009-06-17T14:29:00.000-07:00

This was my first(and so far only) commissioned work for a client I ran into long ago. If you're interested in commissioning a short story from me, let me know. This also might interest you if you're into Boy's Love kind of stories.

The crimson sun sank into the tree-lined horizon, and night had set into the quiet, cozy park. Street lamps switched on to light the paved walkway, and one shined down onto a bench, where a brown, denim jeans-clad boy sat, a gray hooded sweater covering his slim frame, and pale face. The boy peeked out from under it and moved his black-blond wisps of hair aside, his auburn eyes seeking something in the darkness, as he thought, “Where is he? He said he would come hours ago…” Clutching onto a piece of scribbled paper, he held it close to his chest, thinking to himself, “He even put it in writing, and gave it to me.” He looked down at the paper crumpling in his hands, and whispered, “He wouldn’t break his promise, would he?” He then thought back to earlier that afternoon, when he was sitting at the front gates of his school…

The bell had rung, and students seemed to flood out of the gates, making their way around the strange looking boy on the steps. Someone had yelled out, “Hey, don’t be so sad, there, Emo Boy!” And the boy immediately grew incensed, rising to his feet to raise his voice (and possibly his fist) at them, when somebody hugged him from behind. The boy was stunned still, and into a blushing fit, until he looked back to see a boy in black jeans and a Misfits t-shirt smile back at him, his short, naturally styled black hair framing his delicate looking features, as he said, “I told ya I’d be here, Jacey, poo.” Jacey looked down at his feet, as he said, “Yeah, I know, Chris, you just caught me off guard, is all…” Chris released the hug and shot him a curious glace, saying, “So you told me you had something you wanted to talk to me about?” Jacey hesitantly turned to him, and said, “Yes…I feel like we’ve become more distant since we got together. I mean, when we were still friends, you seemed so much closer, than you are now. Now you’re suddenly busy with your friends, and traveling to all these different places, when I want to go be with you. Is…is there something you’re not telling me?” The smile vanished from Chris’ face when he heard that, and after a moment, he replied, “Well, there are a lot of things I want to tell you, but I don’t think this is the right time, or the right place.” He then reached inside his backpack, and pulled out notebook paper, black folder and a lead pen, scribbling on the paper as he said, “Tell you what. How about we meet here, at this time?” Jacey took the paper Chris offered him and softly repeated what was written on the paper. “Our special place, at around 6 PM…” A weak smile crossed Jacey’s face, as he looked up at him, and said, “Sure, honey, that sounds…” The loud, piercing honk of a black van that pulled up in front of the school interrupted him, and Chris began walking towards the open passenger side door, as he said, “Sorry, Jacey, gotta go practice with my friends now. Just wait for me there, ok?” He lovingly looked at him from inside the van, as he said, “I promise to be there, no matter what.” The door then slammed shut, and Jacey followed the leaving van, proclaiming to him, “I’ll wait as long as I need to, Chris!” Jacey watched, as the van disappeared into the distance, then he folded the paper and put it in his sweater pocket, a stronger smile on his face, as he began walking home…

Jacey glanced at his wristwatch, letting out a heavy sigh and thinking to himself, “It’s already 8, and he still hasn’t come. I’m starting to wonder if he’s even coming, at all.” Looking down at the ground, his body quivered, and shook, as he thought, “It feels like he’s been avoiding me for a long time now, like he’s keeping me away. Why does he want to stay so far from me? Why doesn’t he want me getting too close to him? And why can’t I shake this feeling of resentment I have towards him?” At that moment, a darkly dressed boy fell and landed face first, in front of Jacey. The boy immediately picked himself up, and as Jacey looked at his wispy black hair, and earth brown jacket, and began to recognize it him as Chris. Jacey’s eye almost instantly lit up, and he wrapped his arm around Chris, screaming out, “Oh my goodness, you’re finally here, Chris! I am so glad to see you right now!” Caught off of his guard, Chris awkwardly returned the hug, as he said, “Err, yeah, I’m glad to see you, too, Jacey…” Hearing the hesitancy in his voice Jacey released the hug, giving him a curious glace and asking, “What’s wrong, Chrissy?”

“Well, I already know what you’re gonna ask, so this is kind of hard for me…”

“So you don’t have an answer for me?” Chris took a deep breath, then said, “Well I’ve been thinking about it ever since you asked me at school, and I want to tell you that I’ve been hurt a lot in a the past. By a lot of people I thought I felt safe with, and trusted in. And it hasn’t stopped hurting me for a long time, so, in the end, I guess…I guess I’m afraid of going through that again…”

“You really think I would do that sort of thing to you?”

“I don’t know, and that’s what bothering me. I honestly do love you, and care about you; I…I just have a hard time trusting you. I have a hard time trusting anybody, these days. I…I…” Jacey gave him a soft kiss on the lips, then pulled back, saying to him, “It’s alright, Chrissy, I can understand what you’re going through. I know these things take time, and patience. I just want you to let me help in opening up. I want you to be able to trust in me, and let you know I would never hurt you that way.” Jacey held him closely, and said, “I’ll love you, no matter what, Chrissy.” He looked deep into Chris’ eyes, and asked, “Do you feel the same way about me?” Chris smiled back at him, as he said, “You know I do, Jacey.” They then let themselves drift into a long, passionate kiss, that seemed to last an eternity. After a while, they released it, and Chris asked him, “So what do you want to do now, Jacey?”

“Let’s go somewhere where we can be alone. That is, if that’s ok with you…”

“Of course, Jacey.” He then released the hug, and held his hand, lead him down the walkway, as he said, “Now lets go.” They then strolled down the walkway, and towards somewhere deep within the park, somewhere where they could be seen by no one but themselves. Somewhere where they could be free to do what they wished. Somewhere they could love each other, without restraint.

Housewife's Diary

2009-06-10T15:04:00.000-07:00

Something culled from the more sexually repressed side of my writing past. WARNING: strongly sexist. Those offended by stereotypical portrayals of females are not likely to enjoy this character's actions

Yumika Iwamura, Thursday, April 15, 2007 @2:00 AM

Tonight was an interesting and super frantic experience. My husband and I were tongue wrestling on the couch, our passionate moment reached it point of no return as he looked at me with his sapphire blue eyes and said, “Honey, can I ask you something?” Being putty in his arms, of course I said, “Yes, anything…” He smiled gently at me as he asked, “Could you take care of a few things around the house for me? The boss wants to take me out with his bowling buddies bowling tonight. Thanks” Then he got up and walked off.

This time, a few things meant that I had to iron my blouse for tomorrow’s board meeting, cook some premade lasagna for dinner, do the laundry, and pick up the kids from the baby sitter, all within the span of a couple hours. (That’s when I had to go pick up the kids) Man that was frantic, and apparently a good exercise, seeing that I had to keep on the move around the house to manage all four. Yeah, it's a lot of work, but that's what a good wife does right? I know what the family and my husband go through every day, and I know that I can help show them some tender love and care, and ease the stress and tension in their lives. To prevent any unneeded fall out due to me losing something important I stuck my car keys in my back jeans pocket and slung on my tote bag before I did anything, just to have that extra bit of insurance, you know?

Anyways, seeing that everything was going along smoothly, I decided to head out for a moment to get some air. What happens not a moment later? The door shuts behind me. I calmly walk over to open it, and I find out its locked. As I turned and jiggled the knob, several things came to my mind. First, I had mixed up the whites and the coloreds in the laundry loads; second, the lasagna was STILL cooking; and third, the iron was still on and right on top of my blouse.

So I did what any normal person in this situation would do, I panicked and ran around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to find the keys. I looked under the doormat, in the bushes beside the doorway, underneath different rocks in the front yard, and all logical locations of where extra keys should be, and they weren’t in ANY of them.

As I searched around the front and back yards, throwing things here and there and looking for a way inside, I began to think to myself, “Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap, oh crap, oh crap, this is bad. I can’t find those damn things anywhere!” And as I over turned a table I thought, “Hey! Maybe they’re in my tote bag! It’s the only place they can be, right?”

So I rifle through it and pull up 5 cases of makeup, a comb, some pills, a cell phone, some baby pictures and a business pen from UPS, but no keys! Then I go to the front yard to search again, and I find out the car is gone!

Of course, I should have realized it was gone when my husband was gone, but being hurried tends to lower the rationing functions of the brain, as I’m sure many of you know. So I sit down on the front steps of the house, trying to think of what to do next, when I see smoke wafting out of the kitchen window on my right.

Naturally, when someone sees smoke, they think fire, and when they think fire, they think they have to save what they can, like pictures of our honeymoon and the kids performing and such, so I pick up a rock and get ready to heave it at the window and get inside, which is about the time my husband shows up around the corner in our minivan.

As soon as he gets out of the car, I march towards him; angry as all get out that he left me to do all this crap, and then, outta nowhere he hugs me and says “Thank you for working so hard, Yumika. I know it was a lot and I sure you had a hell of a time doing it all”I felt his warmth and I felt the affection he had for me in that hug, so I naturally melted into his arms and hug him back. Then I feel him cup my buns in his hands, so I naturally blush and smile at him, glad that he’s still as passionate as the day we first met.

Then he pulls something out in front of my eyes and laughs, saying; “You forgot you had your keys in your back pocket again, didn’t you?” He then walks in the house and takes care of everything I had going, and comes out moments later, saying to me, “You sure are a mad woman.” I giggled at him and asked, “So should we eat at home, tonight?”

“Nah, let go pick up the kids and go to Shakey’s.” I got in the passenger side seat of the car, and and watched him pull out of the drive way as he asks, “So what do you wanna order tonight?”

“A couple large pizzas, some Mojo, and a big bucket of chicken, ‘cause you know how much I love my legs and thighs.” He stops the car for a second and looks at me as he says, “Those do tend to be the juiciest parts to nibble on” Both of us grinned like idiots as we drove towards my sisters to pick up the kids.

An Essay for the Dreamers

2009-06-02T15:21:00.000-07:00

This is an short form essay from a time long past in my life. Even though I'm much different now from the person who origially penned this somehow it still feels relevant to me, and I hope you feel the same after reading.

You know, I've been looking at the world for the longest time, and I've noticed a lot of similarities among those things that we do that are considered 'professions.' Toys, newbs, rookies, it’s all the same. You start at the bottom, and you build your way to the top of the ladder. *in case you’re wondering, these are the beginning ranks for Graffiti artists, computer players, and any athlete*

But when you get to the top, when you have the respect you seek, when all you desire is within your grasp, then what? Where do you go from there? What do you do once it’s done? And more importantly, what have you done to get there?

Did you decide to go through the blood, sweat, and tears it takes to get to the top, or did you build your dreams upon the shattered remains of those you have destroyed? Did you use all you have met or your own gain and status, or did you aid them in achieving their own? Did you do what you had to do to make it, or did you do what you wanted to do?

When it's all said and done; when you've accounted for every action you've taken and every decision you've made; when you've considered each and every consequence you’ve experienced, will you look back and say, 'If I had to, I'd go back and do it all again'?

These are choices you must weigh when you decide to pursue a career in any field. When you decide that you're willing to give your energy, you're talent, you're very life to following and building on. And when you're willing to dedicate your time to learning the various subtleties and nuances to the path you have chosen.

It is said that people these days will go through an average of 8 careers before they can decide on the one that suits them best, and that is because they have not been able to see that lies ahead of them and what will lay behind them after the fact. When you head out of high school, when you graduate from college, or even if you're coming home from your 9 to 5 job, at some point, you'll come home and ask yourself these questions, sometimes once, sometimes one hundred times over in your mind.

But what are the answers? What will come when you ask yourself these questions? Will you be content with the answers you obtain? Only you can determine that for yourself. And if you are not satisfied, you have a lifetime it change it, and you have a lifetime to journey for the answers you desire. But in the end, I think the one thing we all want is to be able to look back at everything, then say, "Yeah, I'd gladly do it all again..."

Confessions of a Writing Nerd

2009-05-27T19:35:00.000-07:00

Another one from the wayback machine, this one inspired by something that happened to me long ago. In many ways this still reflects on me today, but I know that I've grown much since then and would approach with much more confidence. It'd probably still be a bit of a trial trying to sort out the thoughts, though *laughs*

Karen Jones, Saturday, 19, 2005 @6:00 PM

I remember back in the day when it was paralyzing for me to even talk to another member of the opposite sex. Always stuttering and always stammering and always looking down when I finally worked up the nerve to talk to them. And my first time was probably the time that'll stick out the most, mainly because it was also the most awkward time I ever had talking to a boy.

I remember browsing through my local Border's when I saw some cute guy walk in front of me. I saw the Zelda shirt he was sporting, and knew I had to make him mine. Of course, having brown, shoulder length hair, thick framed glasses, a librarian mode of dress, and being huddled in the corner reading magazines doesn't do much for getting someone's attention, so I followed him as he scanned different sections of the store, trying to think of something I could say to him.

As I trailed him, I noticed that he had a feint, particularly sweet smell about him, one that tickled my nostrils every-time it came to me and put me into something of a trance, so I nodded, knowing that that's what I would tell him about. That is, when I stopped ducking behind stuff when he looked back in my direction.

He came to a stop at the newsstand, and I knew I had to make my move, no matter how my body shuddered when I thought about it. So I moved towards him, my body shivering and my face flushing.

The closer I got, the sweeter his scent became, and the sweeter it became, the more my heart raced, and the more my heart raced, the hotter I became under my white turtleneck sweater.

As I gradually made my way towards him, I saw his broad shoulders, his long, raven black hair that reached down to his heart shaped booty, which only made my legs quiver even more underneath my long, navy colored skirt.

When I came close enough to actually feel his body heat, I said, as steadily as I could muster, "You smell pretty." I saw him lower his magazine and turn his head to look at me. I recoiled a bit, thinking that I had angered him in some way, but then, I saw him smile at me and say, "You haven't talked to a boy before, have you?" I looked down, as I said,"Err. . .no. . . how could you tell?"

He cupped my chin in his hand and held my head up as he said, "I used to be the same way, although when I did it, the girl gave me a cock-eyed look and walked away slowly." I let out a belly laugh and ended up rolling on the floor with laughter. He kneeled down next to me and said, "I see that my embarrassment brings you joy." I kept laughing as I sat up and started chatting with him. The longer I talked to him, the more it amazed me that this handsome devil was once in my shoes.

After that day, we became close friends, sharing stories, helping each other when we needed it, and eventually, becoming boyfriend and girlfriend. In fact, he's taking me out dinner in a few minutes. Gotta get ready and make myself look fancy, and all that. Peace and love, ya'll

-Karen

Journey Into Darkness

2009-05-20T16:02:00.000-07:00

The coming short story was actually inspired by this song, and is paced to follow it's structure. Listening to this while reading the story should help bring the whole experience full circle, so be sure to give it a try. Hope you enjoy, and if there's anything you wanna say about it, hit me up in the comments.

Among the cherry blossom filled forest walked a man dressed in a black Yukata, chrysanthemums and lilies blooming everywhere. He sneered at the pink and white flower petals that drifted and fell around him.

As he came to the grassy clearing he looked up to the cloudy blue skies, watching solders clad in red, purple and blue Haori wield twin short swords, wearing solemn expressions on their faces. One look at their colorful clothes and he was taken back to when they were fighting each other, near his village.

He remembered the white lights that flashed in the dark night skies. He remembered the smell of the flames that leveled his home. He remembered the screams of his family as they were slaughtered in the crossfire. He then unsheathed his katana; his blade turning darker the more he drew it.

As the soldiers closed in on him he took a mighty swing, decimating them and the landscape, the fauna and flora draining of its color as he fought. Even though he was outnumbered, even though they seemed stronger and even though his chances at winning were slim, he lacked the desire to care and only wanted to destroy all that they had created. And the soldiers knew he was capable of doing so, which is why he had to be done away with now.

They came down on him from all sides, swinging their blades with both utmost precision and utter desperation. As they felt him give way he let out an explosive field of dark energy, sending them flying into the air. Like a violent storm he annihilated his assailants, dissecting them like knives cutting through paper. The solders then tried to come down on him from above but he quickly leapt at the one in front of him, impaling him and leaping off his corpse to slash through the others, grabbing his last opponent from behind and planting him into the ground with a spiral driver. The other solders soon fell at his hands and tried, in vein, to evade him.

With their ranks rapidly thinning he began turning his rage on the landscape, destroying the trees, the lakes, and the mountains with his blade and the energy it tossed around.

From her mountain perch a goddess dressed in a snow white Kimono threw back her flaming red hair, her jungle green eyes watching the pain in his eyes and the anger in his movements as he destroyed all that she had made. She couldn’t stand to see him in such pain and flew down to where he was. As he was about to stab his blade into the earth and divide it in two the goddess made a thunderous landing in front of him, knocking him on his behind. He looked up at her, to see her hair sway from both the winds and her own overflowing aura, her hand open and extended to him. While his eyes were widened from shock and surprise, they quickly narrowed, and he slapped her hand away.

The goddess took a step back then felt his blade cut across her cheek. Seeing that he didn’t want to make peace she quickly formed a blade of leaves and flowers to block his blows and combat him. Making her way forward she began matching his power, his speed and his fury, as their fighting grew more and more furious with each passing moment. They then rose into the air and continued to duel but he took a brief window of opportunity and parried her swipe to his right, extending his right palm, and firing a volley of shadow balls point blank at her face. They exploded upon impact, but seemed to impact nothing but the air in front of him. Quickly she appeared behind him and clubbed him into the ground below.

He instinctively rolled back to his feet and into battle, but a shower of icicles soon greeted his waiting blade and he ran with all the speed his legs could summon. Looking to his right, he saw the now angry goddess coming at him with her blade at the ready. The attacks kept coming and coming, their swiftness and strength pushing him further and further back. When one of her attacks missed he saw his chance and planted his palm right into her gut, sending an explosion of dark energy into her body, launching her backwards, burning through her defenses and her Kimono. As she recoiled she quickly placed her hand on her stomach, only to see it had been bleeding black. She then cast her clothing aside and wrapped her aching body in the leaves of the forest as she flew towards him; now knowing only one would leave that place.

She wondered why he was planting his blade into the grass until saw the ground around him turn black, the grass turning into black vines covered in thorn. She had managed to avoid several of his thrusts with the vines but soon realized it to be a ploy when the vines wrapped around her feet, gluing her to the spot. He then ran with his blade, and fired several large bursts at her, while the vines withdrew, and cut into her legs.

She gritted her teeth and blocked every blast, letting him come close enough to parry his attack and launch him upwards with a vicious uppercut. As he flew helplessly upwards she followed and with a charged shot of her own blasted him back to the ground. He rolled backwards and regained his compose, quickly running towards her while bobbing and weaving everything she threw out. He managed to knock away her final blast, and come close enough to run her through. He could almost feel the warmness of her blood on the cold blade he held high. High enough for her to land the decisive blow, and put an end to his destruction.

The life left his eyes, and his blade fell into the ground, its darkness fading away as blood fell away from him. Her own blade then broke apart, and gathered around him, her eye closed and her head bowed as she folded her hands in prayer. Flowers and grass grew around his lifeless body, almost as if it was her way of wishing the same peace and settlement for her fallen opponent…

The Breakup and Breakdown of Yuki

2009-05-13T14:33:00.000-07:00

From the demons of my past I draw out this short story. I often think about what happens when others are made the base of how a person functions, more specifically when that bases happens to crumble under their feet and leaves them to freefall. Writing this helped me realize what could come about if I didn't resolve my inner tumoils or expressed them before they turned into action and I would hope it does the same for anyone that reads it. I can only hope no one comes to the conclusion that the young woman in this piece came to on that night. Read and enjoy, and as always, lemme know your thoughts in the comments.

Night had fallen as she sat on the park bench, the street lamps shining on her rosy pink, yet sorrowful face. Tears flowed from her hazel eyes as she looked at the picture of her and a slick haired gentleman dressed in a T shirt and blue jeans grasped in her left hand. After a few halted breaths she glanced over at the pink cell phone in her right, and on the monochrome screen, read: "It's over between us" On the bottom right corner of that screen his name leered back at her and she wept even louder than before, her short, wispy black hair now sticking to her face. How could he do this to me? She thought. I thought we were happy together; holding hands, kissing cheeks, making love...it all seemed so perfect...where did I go wrong? She wiped her tears on the sleeve of her cotton, yellow blouse as she dialed up her friend, Asami. I can always depend on her to be there for me when I need her, Always. That thought raced through her mind as it rung and rung, her free hand crushing the photograph. After what felt like forever, Asami picked up and said, "Hello, who is this?" Her voice shook horribly as she responded to Asami's question. "H-hey Asami. It's me, Yuki."

" Good grief, you sound horrible, Yuki, what happened?"

"He...he broke up with me." Asami fell silent for a moment, then said, "I'm sorry to hear that, Yuki. You gonna be alright?"

"N-no...not right now. I...I need someone to hold me. I need someone I can talk to about this. I need someone to help me pick up the pieces..." Yuki heard Asami's voice falter as she said, "Gee, I'd like to help you, but I'm a little busy right now..." With a desperate plea Yuki said, "Please, Asami, I really need a shoulder to cry on right now..."

"Well I don't think now would be a good time, Yuki..."

"Why? Why wouldn't it be a good time to come to you?"

"Well I have someone over at the house right now, and-" A deep, yet familiar voice in the background interrupted her by saying, "Yo Asami, c'mon! I got the game all set up for ya!" Yuki immediately recognized that voice as belonging to her now ex-boyfriend, and was about to ask who that was when Asami said, "Sorry, gotta go. See ya later, k!" Yuki heard a click, then dead silence. She looked at the bright, glittery pink cell phone in her hands, and thought, You know I think this was the first thing she ever gave me when we became friends. I remember her telling me how used her own savings to buy it so we could keep in touch and stay the best of friends. She let it fall to the stone walkway and swiftly stomped on it, hearing the now satisfying crunching of electronics and circuitry being ground underneath her sky blue sneakers. She then ripped the picture in her other hand to pieces, tossing it to the winds as she rose to her feet. Tears no longer flowed as she pulled out her switchblade from indigo jeans' back pocket. She glared at it with a focused intent. Maybe I'll get to put this thing to good use after all... A twisted grin crossed her face as she walked into the inky blackness of the night, her destination now set in stone...

The Book of Memories

2009-05-06T09:58:00.000-07:00

Summer be coming like a rocket, where we show off the results of our gym time on the beaches, without shirts or sometimes even pants, so it feels quite timely for me to put this up. This piece actually won me a writing contest a while back, and editing it made me a bit misty eyed about both the past and the future, but in a good way. See if it conjures up some of feelings in you, about the things you leave behind.

Summer, the time where I'm supposed to be happy and full of joy, and yet I'm not. My family is gonna move to San Francisco ‘cause of a job my dad got, that means I'll have to leave all my friends here in Japan behind for good. As me, my parents, and my 3 sisters pile into the van I look to the front door and see my memories start recalling themselves. Watching my littlest sister run to the van with her short brown hair and wide, hazel eyes I saw the little girl in her navy colored school uniform from all those years ago, a grin from ear to ear and perky as the day she began middle school. Wearing an ocean colored tube top and white cut offs my sister glanced over at me, asking, "Aren't you exited, Makoto?" I glared at her with my own now world-weary eyes and said, "About what? Leaving all my friends behind and moving to a country where about 10 percent of the population speaks my language?"

"Aww, you're no fun." I saw her pout as she sat next to me. Sensing it would be a long drive; I rooted around the back and pulled out an old leather scrapbook brimming with photos. As I opened that book of memories, a picture of me and my friend, Hiroko, appeared, and we were posed in front of a DDR machine.

I remember that it was my first time in many weeks after my breakup with my then boyfriend Hiroyuki that I stepped outside the house and went somewhere, trying to forget all the pain he inflicted on me when he left. Before we went into the Game Center she sat me down on the bench out front and said, "Makoto, there are more important things in life than a guy.”

“How can that be possible? I gave him my heart and did everything I could to help him be better, ‘cause he said he wanted to be. Then he went and ran off with some random slut to go join a fucking gang. He lied right to my face to get what he wanted, just like the rest of those men.”

“Just because one man broke your heart, doesn't mean all of them will. Someday you'll meet a nice guy that'll treat you right, but until then don't beat yourself up! He chose his path, and now you can choose yours." A small smile appeared on my face as she said that, tears streaming down my face as she lead me by the hand into the arcade, where I made a total ass of myself on the machines, especially DDR and that Para Para Paradise machine. Ahh, those we're the days.

I looked up to the car window and saw that we were in the middle of a traffic jam, and remembered that I was about to leave her behind, too. I sighed as I flipped the pages, searching for something to get my mind off my misery. Finding nothing, I placed it in my lap and stared at the endless array of skyscrapers outside the window. A few moments later I heard my sister say, "You look cute in that bikini." Upon hearing the word "Bikini" I snatched it from her and looked to see a picture of my white, two-piece clad self with my equally well-dressed friends at the beach, the rocky rise of land behind us serving as our backdrop.

After the pic was taken I took Takashi, the tall, dark, and handsome boy on my right, for an aside. The day before, I found out that his woman was cheating on him with Hiroyuki, and he was devastated. He tried to hide it behind that charming smile of his, but one look into his half closed eyes told me all I needed to know. Trying my best not to stare at his highly developed pecs, I looked straight ahead and told him, "Takashin, I heard what happened and I'm sorry for what she did to you."

"Why are you apologizing?" Struggling to form something coherent I rubbed at the back of my neck and answered "Err...well...she cheated on you, and... Well...there's other fish in the sea...and all that..." I could remember feeling my face flush as I uttered those words. He then started to giggle, prompting me to ask "What? What's so funny?"

"You know, you look cute when you blush, Makoto." I felt the blushing spread even further, stomping the sands and saying, "I'm 17, dammit! I'm not supposed to be cute!"

"Then what are you supposed to be?”

"Well I...uhh..." He just kept on giggling as I tried to think of something to say, everybody now looking at my rapidly reddening body. I finally managed to get out, "Sexy, I guess..." I remember someone from the back of me shouting, "Look everyone, it's Sexy Girl Makoto!" He then smiled as he said, "I agree, you are quite sexy. "

"Oh stop, Takashi..."

"You know what? I like you. You're kind, cute, and apparently very sexy." He then smiled and walked up to me as asked, "Wanna go on a date sometime?"

"Uhh..sure..." Everyone jumped and cheered when I said that, and Takashi just came up and hugged me, kissing my cheek as he let go. We've been going out ever since that day, and he's made me one of the happiest girls in Japan. And now I'm about to leave that behind, as well.

As I looked up from the book we had arrived at Narita Airport and the sun started to set, almost as if the gods themselves are telling me that my greatest memories are also sinking into the horizon. Before the rest of my family and I took our bags to the luggage check in I put the album in my carry on, so I could at least not worry about my most precious possession getting lost in the shuffle. We dragged our way through the mob of people that apparently has the same plans as us, my dad got into an argument with the clerk about ticket prices and finally got to the check in counter; putting the fate of our stuff in the airline’s hand, thinking that when I see them again I won't be able to see my friends or Takashi ever again. That thought came even more of a reality when we entered our gate and the plane took off, Japan becoming nothing more than a spec underneath us. As that began to dawn on me, tears began to fill my eyes, running down my cheek. I looked at the clouds passing us by from my window and thought, “This is it. I'm leaving behind everyone I've ever loved...” I then opened the scrapbook to the last page, where one picture was displayed front and center: Me and Takashi; holding hands in a park, sitting on the bench.

It was taken the night before I left, and he told me this: “Makoto Kisaragi, I want you to know that this will not be the last time we meet.” I looked at him, tears filling my eyes, and asked, "Why? Why do you say that? I'm going to America; do you know how far that is? And do you know how far away I'll be from you? Do you know how much it'll hurt for me to be without you?" I buried my head into his chest as I uttered those words, and he held me in his gentle embrace as he said, "It's alright, Makoto, I'm here."

"But that's the thing, you won't be here. You'll be gone, gone from my life, gone from my touch, gone from...from me..." I then looked up at him, and he smiled and said, "I knew you we're gonna say that. I thought the exact same thing a few days back. Then I talked to your little sister about it, and she told me something that changed how I saw you moving, and gave me much hope."

"What did she tell you?"

"I can't say."

"But why?"

"’Cause if I told you now, you wouldn't understand." He ran a hand through my hair as he said; "I think it's best if your sister told you. She'll know when the time is right. Until then I'll leave you with these words: I, along with everyone you else you meet in your life, is like the wind." Then he kissed me on the lips and walked off. I was left there a slightly, scratch that, very confused and still heartbroken girl.

I think I woke my sister with my sobbing, because I heard her wake up and ask, "Hey sis, what's up?" I turned to her and said, "Nothing" Although the river of tears kind of gave me away. She then said, "Yeah, sure, nothing." She looked at the open scrapbook in my hand and said, "Can I see that for a second?" I handed it over to her, and she began looking through it, stopping at what seemed like random pages for a moment, but when I looked closer, were the exact same pages I had flipped to that day. She then looked up at me and said, "You miss your friends, don't you, sis?" A small gasp emerged from me as I looked at her, then nodded. She then giggled and said, "Oh sis, why would you miss them?"

"Because we're moving away from them, and I'll never be able to be with them again."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well...we're moving to a different country, and-"

"You can't send them snail mail, E-mails or IMs?"

"Well...I could, but it's not the same." She then made a small laugh and held up the scrapbook, saying, "Sis, what is this?"

"My scrapbook."

"And what does it hold?"

"Pictures of-"

"Wrong. They're not just pictures, they're memories of what you and the people in these pictures did together. This scrapbook holds all the joy and happiness captured on each picture. I mean, that is why you like them so much, right?" Shocked to hear such wisdom emerge from her tiny body, I said with bated breath, "Uhh....yeah..." She then turned it to the last page and said, "And if all these pictures we're gone, would that mean the memories they each hold would be gone, too?"

"Well, I-" She giggled, then said, "Oh sis, I always thought the older one was supposed to know all this." She closed it as she said, "Of course the answer is no, and your feelings about your friends should be the same. I mean, just because you can't see the wind doesn't mean it’s not there, right?" I saw a gentle smile cross her face as she said, "Your feelings about your friends are no different. Yeah, they're in a different country and all that, but as long as you keep what they've done for you in your heart, and I'm pretty sure you do, they'll never truly leave you. Much like the winds, they'll be with you wherever you go. And besides, they wouldn't want you to be sad, would they?" To that, I could only say, "Err....well I guess not..."

"Of course they don't, they want you to be happy, to enjoy living in a new country. So live it up! Make new friends, create new memories, and take new pictures for that scrapbook. After all, what use is moving to somewhere new if we can't enjoy all it has to offer us?" I then started to smile, then said, "You know what? You've absolutely right, Momoko. I've gotta stop all this damn moping and start being happy. America is a very big and very fun place."

"That's the spirit, sis. And besides, a lot of guys over there love Japanese girls and culture, so maybe you could teach them a thing or two." I giggled and said, "Yeah." I then remembered what Takashi said to me the night before,

I think it's best if your sister told you. She'll know when the time is right.

Then I looked at her and ruffled her hair as I said, "You're a lot wiser than you look, lil' sis." She then shot a small smirk at me as she said, "Well they say some of the best things come in small packages, big sis." She looked at the scrapbook and said, "I wonder what kind of new memories this thing'll hold?" I gently took it from her grasp as I said, "That much is uncertain, but…if they're as good as or better than the old ones, then I think I'll enjoy my time in America..."

Pixelated Anger

2009-04-29T13:18:00.000-07:00

This piece is another trip in the Wayback machine, when my outlook was a lot less positive and a lot less world wise. Thus you may note more than a hint of darkness when you read it. Or not. Give it a read and see if you agree

Sachiko Mihama, November 12, 2005@10:00 PM

I...I still can't believe what happened to me tonight. Everything I worked so hard to attain; every single piece of rare goods in my inventory is all gone. And why? Because I put my faith in a lover. And the worst part of it is, that he’s gonna do it again, to a very dear friend of mine. Guess that'll show me better, eh? If you're wondering HOW that is possible, let me take you back to the beginning, to after school on the front steps, 3 months ago...

I had just found out from my then boyfriend of 12 months that he didn't feel a connection in our relationship, and decided to break up with me. Naturally, knowing his kind, helpful, and overall gentle nature, and knowing I'll never get to experience that again, I was devastated. I sat on the front steps of my school and bawled my eyes out for everyone to see...including Fred. He walked up behind me and asked, "What’s wrong?" Of course I said, "Nothing..." And he sat down next to me and started to talk to me, and boy did he have a way with words. By the time 2 hours had passed, he made me laugh, he made me feel good, and he helped me begin to move on from the heartache...and I began to fall for him.

I'll never forget his face; those soft and gentle blue eyes; his spiky blond hair; and those slim framed glasses that seemed to enhance his gaze, which I now know was going nowhere near my face. I'll never forget how much he did for me, taking me out on the town, to movies, to concerts, and to places I've never been before. I'll never forget how much I gave him, either. In those days, I was putty in his hands, and I would have done anything he asked of me, and I did, giving him money (both in game and real world) items, and probably my most precious possession a month after I knew him. I'll give you a hint, it meant a lot more than that sword I lost, and it CAN'T be bought back in the Marketplace. Although back then, I could’ve cared less.

Back then; I thought I was giving myself to someone who wouldn’t do me wrong; who wouldn’t treat me like garbage; who would see me as a person to be loved and held, not an object to be used and thrown away. But then, that night I lost my innocence, when we seemed one with each other, and our bodies pulsed with pleasure, I called out his name, and he called out my username. (That would be Fujiko-sama, for those that are wondering) It was then I knew that things were about to go downhill.

After that night, he rarely returned my calls, he didn’t talk to me in school, and he didn’t even look in my direction. But I knew he was also busy with school, and that he was in a lot of advanced computer classes, so I waited; and waited, and waited, and I would remain someplace for hours at a time, if I knew he was going to come, which he never did.

It was like this for 2 weeks, then, I got a PM in one of my mules from my main account that said, “I never loved you, and the only reason I even talked to you was because I saw your picture in your profile. And thanks for your password, your items’ll fetch a ton in the marketplace. :D And please, don’t talk to me again, ok? Kthxbai

-Fred”

I checked my main account, and sure enough, it’s as bare as the day I started. Then, I walked over to my bed, laid face down into a pillow and cried until I could cry no more, which leads up to now, where tears are still flowing down my face.

As I write this, I wipe my tears on my sleeve and try to keep them from hitting the bat in my lap, (courtesy of one of my guy friends on the Baseball team) and smearing the papers that contain Fred’s whereabouts at this time of night. (Also courtesy of a friend of mine) Tonight, I felt great and long lasting pain. Tonight, I felt the betrayal of someone I thought I could put my trust in. Tonight, I’m gonna make sure that he doesn’t do it again, and that my friend will never feel the pain I feel. I just hope this baywood bat don’t turn into redwood…

Just Another Day in The Ghetto

2009-04-23T23:42:00.000-07:00

One of my very early works of poetry writing(that isn't completely craptastic). Read and enjoy, and if you have any criticism, please leave it in the comments.

Another ray of sunshine pours.
Another pigeon coos it song.
Another car engine roars and purrs
While another game of hopscotch is played.
Just another day in the ghetto.

Another ice cream truck pulls into the lane
and draws another group of kids from their homes.
'Pop The Weasel' begins once again
While another child leaves with a smile
and the truck moves on to next street over.
Just another day in the ghetto.

Another drug deal goes down in the alley
While another girl sells herself for money and food.
Another passerby is robbed in the dark,while
Another youth is slain in the streets;
And yet another family is left to grieve
Just another day in the ghetto.