Drive

Groggily I slip into into my icy cold shirt and steely shoes. My sweater's zipper comes zooming up with electric speed. I glance over the clock. Ten minutes late. 7am Traffic. Ugh. I settle into my front seat and the engine spurts to life. Another day of driving. Sigh.

I remember a time when music didn't mean too much to me. I could function without the melodies coming out of the stereo. The songs from my childhood were heartbreaking, glum, and bitter. I hated music.

Sitting in the car, my face was always towards the window, my mom would turn the volume dial to the highest possible auditory level. The music would dig relentlessly like a drill, deeper each time, to the center of my soul. The windows would shake and sigh as a sound waves would hit their shiny surface. The glass looked back with a glum reflection. The vibrations moved through my body and the glass without fail. I would shudder as the music lyrics seeped through the speakers. Only my eyes could escape the music.

On a bright early morning, as I drive past endless morning cars, my radio lies crooked. After an attempt to take the radio out, some strangers decidedly either failed to completely take out the box or they found the box of no use. My car is devoid of musical sound now. Many years later, music no longer makes my windows shudder. So not having a stereo makes me restless. It has been about a month now and the box face stays empty. My mind is full of thoughts now and imagination. My drives no longer consist of singing my favorite songs in the privacy of my own car, rather they give my mind time to think and imagine.

I drive past huge concrete legs that cross over my car. Suddenly, they grow hair and I race against then before they get me. Rows of palm trees line the sides of the highway, like soldiers standing incredibly erect, only swaying with the strongest of winds. Never breaking, only bending. Row after row, they all have the same expression. I drive alone along the highway, a termite among the hundreds. The face expression the same of every passing vehicle. Eyes ahead. Hands on wheel. Tuned out of what calamity lies ahead.

Then I arrive at my destination. I open my door, and I become myself again. Birds chirp and the sun's rays seep into my skin. The sun welcomes me once more to life. The traffic is gone. Now the stampede of students heads my way. Another day of school :)

Ernesto Con y "En Hora de la Tarde"

After visiting the Chinese Historical Society of Southern California, I came across a really - extremely - neat book. A book of poems. Ernesto Con, a Costa Rican Chinese, wrote some poems I was extremely happy to read. His verse is full of melancholy and nostalgia. Of course, he has poems full of joy too. I want to keep his book, but unfortunately I'll have to give it back. Among the many, "En Hora de la Tarde," is my favorite. It clearly reflects my current sentiments. Ahhhh, poets - and one who writes in Spanish too!?!?! That's rare. I love words. Especially Spanish ones. So a Spanish speaking/writing poet is an awesome combination. But, I can still dream right?

Sometimes I feel like I am missing out on my own culture. I rarely speak Spanish now - or rather I don't know many fluent Spanish speakers. The friends I do know, usually prefer English over Spanish. Admittedly, sometimes I choose to speak English instead. It's a habit. I rarely see my ama, who is the main person I speak my native tongue with at home. So, my goal is to listen to lots of Spanish songs. They are the best after all :] But most importantly, I must read.

I'll go back in my mom's cassette collection and break open my childhood memories. The dust might be caked on several of these memories. Some not so pleasant, but that's what I remember. It was a completely different life. My Spanish life. It's almost another vida, not my own.


^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"En horas de la tarde
Cuando empiezo a escribir,
me llega de las calles
una ansia de vivir.

Otras veces yo siento
una afán de llorar,
son lamentos que el viento
recoge en mi pesar.

Yo no se lo que busco
en este eterno andar;
vagando por el mundo
en pos de mi avatar

Mi espiritó gitano
me arrastra sin piedad
a través de pantanos;
de esta gris soledad"

New Beginnings

Spring is nearing, and the past two quarters have been the best and worst. I need to focus. Maybe I'll take some early morning runs with my Sammy.

He LOVES to run.

Here's for a new beginning.

Rayando el Sol

I’d forgotten how the sun’s shimmering silhouette can bring me joy. It casts a scintillating shadow over my day. If only the walls of the library had little crevices so the warmth could come in, I would stay in the library indefinitely. Well, maybe just a little bit longer. Too many times, I can be a downer when I am at home, so earlier when I sat on a sunny chair at school, I didn’t want to leave. I felt like jumping, running for joy. Basking in the sun was a perfect. I felt happy. My life is what I make it, I often forget, so I should stop thinking of what could have been, but focus on what can be and what I do have. Ergh sorry didn’t meant to make this cliché/sappy but you know what I mean, right? I’ve wasted so much time regretting what I didn’t do, it makes me a little sad. Today, the sun reminded me of how beautiful life is, if we only take the time to view the beauty around us and the people that surround us.

Of course, sitting in the sun while Death Cab plays in the background is just that much better. Listening to their lyrics makes me reminisce of previous years, how I faced the struggles of life with a stern face and steady grip. Their lyrics can be somber at times, but they have an inexplicable ability brighten my day. It is a weird paradox; Death Cab does not talk about death, really, at all. Instead, they reveal to me life’s beautiful struggles. It’s like lying in the middle of a meadow cloud gazing, and noticing that the clouds race against one another. I didn’t notice that ever happened (that the clouds moved so fast). I never took the time to pause and enjoy them, until I went to study abroad. Weird. I know.

So before you go into a frenzy, take some time to lie in meadow, bask in the sun, and notice the clouds. It truly is beautiful.

Epic Fail

Why am I my biggest enemy sometimes?

Bus Stops

(⌒▽⌒)

I'm sitting here and in times of loneliness, I think I would go to bus stops. In my high school years I would ride the bus from Ontario to Montclair, to Upland, and even to Pomona. When I was feeling down, I always managed to find interesting people, who just like me, were trying to get to their next destination. The difference: they had a much more optimistic outlook on life. I always remember particular people, like the homeless man from Arizona - who was half Indian - a grandmother from my hometown, and a girl from Pomona. They're (correction. I meant 'their.'This is what happens when I write at midnight or later) names are a blur, but their faces and their words stay with me.

Sometimes, strangers can encourage me more than they will ever know. It's weird how at times they can see through you as one is simply walking along the street or waiting for a bus - albeit it doesn't happen all the time. Their words of encouragement always managed to give me hope on a gloomy day. When i used to walk home from school I would always change my route, but I was always bound to run into a friendly smile. I think I like strangers, at least most of them, mostly due to their willingness to help or give out advice or a genuine smile without wanting anything in return. Without asking for help, there are a select few who just know - you know? - that you need encouragement sometimes or just someone to listen to you. They don't contemplate whether you deserve it, whether they know you, whether their beliefs align with yours, they just offer what they have.

I think one of these days I will ride the bus again, or the metrolink, and perhaps I can offer a stranger in need what I many times received, even if it's just a friendly smile.

Chocolate Chip Mint Cookies. Is there more to say? Lent has begun, and even though I don't really consider myself a Catholic, I've decided to give up chocolate chip cookies (cookies in general too) for Lent. I do it more to see how much willpower I can muster up when I am confronted by sweets. This summer I was in pastry heaven (!), but with that a couple pounds came with me too (okay more like several).So here's to the last cookie, until April 3rd.