so my gsi for mcb 61 is this guy named ben. he was a bachelor of science in chemistry, and now he's a graduate student in the molecular and cell biology department here at cal, studying brain, mind and behavior. first day of discussion, and ben is trying to introduce himself to us. he gave us all cute little index cards to put our names and email addresses on them so that he can peruse and pick on us all later. why am i bothering to describe him to you, you ask?
because, for what he's worth, ben can't teach for crap. if there ever were an antithesis for a great teacher, it would be ben. not that i'm taking away his credibility for teaching, i mean, he is a gsi, and he's getting paid for it. it's just that he's not very good at it. one of his favorite lines seems to be "don't pay attention to me/ what i'm doing/ what i'm writing on the board" or "if you have black lightning lecture notes, then you already know what i'm going to talk about." he's crazy. "you can leave anytime after 9/30, basically." it's kinda very sad when your professor is more interesting than your gsi. but then again, noli said that presti's fucking high every time he starts a lecture, so that would explain as to why we're having so much fun.
my spanish gsi is another character. adam is teaching us about critical analysis of literary texts in spanish -- and yeah, he's from new jersey. he can try for a while to get volunteers, but it'll probably be the same seven people who talk in class: the three native speakers, and the four kids who got 5's on the AP test still eager to test out their spanish abilities. it's fun to watch people say "like" and "you know" in spanish fodder. it's fantastic. and adam pushes for office hours, since he holds them at caffe milano on bancroft, next to jamba juice, so he in turn advertises jamba juice for us to go to caffe milano. ah, the logic of these twentysomethings.
as for my portuguese gsis, cesar and valeria, i think i really like how they teach the classes. it doesn't hurt that they're native portuguese speakers, and it doesn't hurt that they have these cute big brazilian accents whenever they speak in english. you can just imagine them walking down a street together, chitchatting in portuguese, or attending the english language program here at the extension building trying their hands out in english. you really should hear them speak english, though. it's kinda cute and kinda annoying at the same time.
i wonder then: what if i end up becoming a gsi? i wouldn't mind; i'll probably like it. and then there's the publishing of stuff and the doctorate and the intensive research. and then the assistant professorship, and then the tenure, and then the settling. yeah. so like, when i'm forty, maybe.
good thing i don't have to worry about graduate school for at least four more years.
migblog
1.31.2003
avocado
heroes unsung
amid the sea of tastes.
many of them are women.
unappreciated,
overworked,
overlooked,
underestimated.
but who does that now, you ask?
when green and yellow
could never come together
at once they did.
and they do
and it is good.
different tastes,
new experiences.
you haven't.
get ready, but don't
brace yourself.
it will be subtle. you'll smile.
things will stay the same --
pretty
much.
taste it.
it's here.
heroes unsung
amid the sea of tastes.
many of them are women.
unappreciated,
overworked,
overlooked,
underestimated.
but who does that now, you ask?
when green and yellow
could never come together
at once they did.
and they do
and it is good.
different tastes,
new experiences.
you haven't.
get ready, but don't
brace yourself.
it will be subtle. you'll smile.
things will stay the same --
pretty
much.
taste it.
it's here.
1.24.2003
kiwi
look deep.
what do you see?
nothing, you say.
outside.
what do you see?
ugly, you say.
now notice
how everyone sees
a different type of you.
outside
see the ugliest face
or the most stunning profile.
inside
a heart of gold
and a mind so bright.
when will you
see your own light?
shine so bright.
hide what you must.
keep it inside.
outside, you are different.
you know not
what you don't see.
you
are
what you're
not.
look deep.
what do you see?
nothing, you say.
outside.
what do you see?
ugly, you say.
now notice
how everyone sees
a different type of you.
outside
see the ugliest face
or the most stunning profile.
inside
a heart of gold
and a mind so bright.
when will you
see your own light?
shine so bright.
hide what you must.
keep it inside.
outside, you are different.
you know not
what you don't see.
you
are
what you're
not.
as for the first week of the new semester, it's turning out to be so awesome, it's unbelievable. no hassles, no snags with my schedule, no hang-ups, no crappy GSIs or crappy classes. i'm enjoying each and every minute of being a true blue cal student. it's great.
my spanish professor is the coolest professor ever. he talks all weird and has a cuban accent, i think, and he has this low, guttural voice that makes you just listen to whatever it is that he's saying. it's fun, he's the head of my spanish seminar, and when we talked about ian fleming and james bond he just went off for five minutes about how james bond "always got the living shit kicked out of him in every fucking novel" and how hollywood overdramatized and glamorized everything.
my portuguese GSIs, cesar and valeria, are both from brazil. they speak decent english, but it's so cute how they talk with their brazilian accents and try to teach a class of about nineteen or twenty people how to say "hello my name is and this is how you spell it thank you" in all of five minutes. it's refreshing learning something new everyday, something practical. like, people in brazil and portugal would never be able to get by without this language.
professor presti, my MCB lecturer, is awesome. we watched 2001: a space odyssey to open our first lecture, and during the second lecture he brought in a brain and showed everyone the lovely dregs of alcohol dripping from the cerebral cortex. it was fantastilicious.
and of course, our dear band director bob is heading the wind ensemble for china. it's cool that we're doing it, really, i mean visualizing a cal band trip is insane, but i think bob will be a huge help and a nice big factor in all of this. bob's cool. bob's... BOB.
little by little you appreciate things more and more. roommates grow on you, berkeley grows on you, being alive grows on you. you take things for granted, and then you realize that it's not really that hegemonic at all. it's nice to get scared and feel insecure every once in a while. it keeps you on your toes.
and now it's time to smile.
my spanish professor is the coolest professor ever. he talks all weird and has a cuban accent, i think, and he has this low, guttural voice that makes you just listen to whatever it is that he's saying. it's fun, he's the head of my spanish seminar, and when we talked about ian fleming and james bond he just went off for five minutes about how james bond "always got the living shit kicked out of him in every fucking novel" and how hollywood overdramatized and glamorized everything.
my portuguese GSIs, cesar and valeria, are both from brazil. they speak decent english, but it's so cute how they talk with their brazilian accents and try to teach a class of about nineteen or twenty people how to say "hello my name is and this is how you spell it thank you" in all of five minutes. it's refreshing learning something new everyday, something practical. like, people in brazil and portugal would never be able to get by without this language.
professor presti, my MCB lecturer, is awesome. we watched 2001: a space odyssey to open our first lecture, and during the second lecture he brought in a brain and showed everyone the lovely dregs of alcohol dripping from the cerebral cortex. it was fantastilicious.
and of course, our dear band director bob is heading the wind ensemble for china. it's cool that we're doing it, really, i mean visualizing a cal band trip is insane, but i think bob will be a huge help and a nice big factor in all of this. bob's cool. bob's... BOB.
little by little you appreciate things more and more. roommates grow on you, berkeley grows on you, being alive grows on you. you take things for granted, and then you realize that it's not really that hegemonic at all. it's nice to get scared and feel insecure every once in a while. it keeps you on your toes.
and now it's time to smile.
1.20.2003
grape
stick together, girls. it'll do
much better when you
stick it out in the long run.
when the day is finally done
and the new sun starts to rise,
that's when you'll surely realize
how to figure out this sordid little
life of ours. in the middle,
that's where we'll be. stuck.
wondering when our luck
will run out. if even that.
picked off our place in the drop of a hat.
one by one, we fall apart
quickly. they aim straight for our hearts,
straight for our guts.
no ifs, ands, or buts
because we are better than this
life they've given us.
no menial housejob will
do. you can do whatever it takes, still,
it takes time.
but once it's reached, it's so ever sublime.
stick together, girls, it's nice --
no one's telling you otherwise.
stick together, girls. it'll do
much better when you
stick it out in the long run.
when the day is finally done
and the new sun starts to rise,
that's when you'll surely realize
how to figure out this sordid little
life of ours. in the middle,
that's where we'll be. stuck.
wondering when our luck
will run out. if even that.
picked off our place in the drop of a hat.
one by one, we fall apart
quickly. they aim straight for our hearts,
straight for our guts.
no ifs, ands, or buts
because we are better than this
life they've given us.
no menial housejob will
do. you can do whatever it takes, still,
it takes time.
but once it's reached, it's so ever sublime.
stick together, girls, it's nice --
no one's telling you otherwise.
so. yeah. i kinda totally just left everyone out of the loop by not saying that i was going to be at tahoe from the 16th to the 19th. i actually just got back close to an hour ago, and holy crap, my legs are sore, my back is killing me, and my half-popped left knee keeps popping. it's beautiful.
skiing at tahoe (we skied at kirkwood and sierra-at-tahoe) was fantastic -- the views were breathtaking (both figuratively and literally), but man, can skiing be any more masochistic? first, you have to wear about three full layers of clothes, and undoubtedly at some point later in the day it'll get too hot to ski in all three layers. next, you strap yourself in these hard-shell uber-plastic boots that choke your foot and therefore cut off its circulation. and then, you get on the skis themselves, and grab on these poles -- basically, you're putting yourself on these two pieces of heavy-duty plastic so that you can glide on snow and go straight downhill. fast. (yeah, to a lot of people it's that whole "wind in your hair" shit, but man, low oxygen levels at 8,800 feet plus a heart problem do not mix.)
i had the time of my life, it was so much fun after i learned how to. (thanks to angela and jacob for the help, you guys, i owe you one!)
and now i'm back in berkeley, trying my hardest to keep my lower body from falling apart.
i'll post grape after this, so stay tuned. i did write it on the 17th, though. just the matter of not getting to a computer in the middle of ski country. ooh, ooh, and did you know that it was my first time ever touching snow ever during the weekend? i had so much fun at that sno-park. i was like a little kid running around in a toy store. and then tumbling with two other people, and then sliding down the hill with four other people -- it was fantastic.
and i had "work it" by missy elliot stuck in my head the entire time. (angela feels my pain.)
i will see you all sometime soon. school!
by the way, happy mlk jr. day.
skiing at tahoe (we skied at kirkwood and sierra-at-tahoe) was fantastic -- the views were breathtaking (both figuratively and literally), but man, can skiing be any more masochistic? first, you have to wear about three full layers of clothes, and undoubtedly at some point later in the day it'll get too hot to ski in all three layers. next, you strap yourself in these hard-shell uber-plastic boots that choke your foot and therefore cut off its circulation. and then, you get on the skis themselves, and grab on these poles -- basically, you're putting yourself on these two pieces of heavy-duty plastic so that you can glide on snow and go straight downhill. fast. (yeah, to a lot of people it's that whole "wind in your hair" shit, but man, low oxygen levels at 8,800 feet plus a heart problem do not mix.)
i had the time of my life, it was so much fun after i learned how to. (thanks to angela and jacob for the help, you guys, i owe you one!)
and now i'm back in berkeley, trying my hardest to keep my lower body from falling apart.
i'll post grape after this, so stay tuned. i did write it on the 17th, though. just the matter of not getting to a computer in the middle of ski country. ooh, ooh, and did you know that it was my first time ever touching snow ever during the weekend? i had so much fun at that sno-park. i was like a little kid running around in a toy store. and then tumbling with two other people, and then sliding down the hill with four other people -- it was fantastic.
and i had "work it" by missy elliot stuck in my head the entire time. (angela feels my pain.)
i will see you all sometime soon. school!
by the way, happy mlk jr. day.
1.16.2003
i am so fucking mad right now, you don't want to fucking mess with me.
i want to bite something until my gums bleed, i want to wring something until my palms burn, i want to close my eyes and squeeze my eyelids shut until my skin rips on itself, i want to pound my head against this wooden beam above my head until my ears ring, i want to scream until my vocal cords die, i want to kick something until my toes fall off my foot, i want to drive something through something, i want splinters at the back of my neck, i want to snap the necks of innocent little fucking bunnies.
i want to listen to music so loud until my ears can't hear anything anymore.
i know this'll pass; i'll probably have forgotten whatever i'm mad about right now by this time tomorrow. but the goddamned principle of the thing... it's just so stupid. you think you're living on your own until the leash on your neck gets fucking pulled too tight, and it becomes a noose. yeah. so much for cutting the proverbial umbilical cord -- as much as i try to, the scissors are defective. there's nothing anyone can do until the doctor comes along and snips it himself. with surgical fucking scissors that can cut through anything. even deep, deep shit.
if it gets too quiet, i'm going to cry.
it's weird. i feel frustrated and angry and helpless and dejected and capitulatory and depressed. someone give me zoloft and a martini, i deserve it.
by the way, thanks to eddie and hiro and shereen and beth and angela and jacob for at least trying to make the rest of the day better. you guys are such rockstars. i love you all.
i want to bite something until my gums bleed, i want to wring something until my palms burn, i want to close my eyes and squeeze my eyelids shut until my skin rips on itself, i want to pound my head against this wooden beam above my head until my ears ring, i want to scream until my vocal cords die, i want to kick something until my toes fall off my foot, i want to drive something through something, i want splinters at the back of my neck, i want to snap the necks of innocent little fucking bunnies.
i want to listen to music so loud until my ears can't hear anything anymore.
i know this'll pass; i'll probably have forgotten whatever i'm mad about right now by this time tomorrow. but the goddamned principle of the thing... it's just so stupid. you think you're living on your own until the leash on your neck gets fucking pulled too tight, and it becomes a noose. yeah. so much for cutting the proverbial umbilical cord -- as much as i try to, the scissors are defective. there's nothing anyone can do until the doctor comes along and snips it himself. with surgical fucking scissors that can cut through anything. even deep, deep shit.
if it gets too quiet, i'm going to cry.
it's weird. i feel frustrated and angry and helpless and dejected and capitulatory and depressed. someone give me zoloft and a martini, i deserve it.
by the way, thanks to eddie and hiro and shereen and beth and angela and jacob for at least trying to make the rest of the day better. you guys are such rockstars. i love you all.
1.13.2003
i'm back at cal, woot woot. there's a total of about twelve or thirteen people here right now (who are staying for good, mind you!) so it's not as all as empty as it was like during the stanfurd game. there's been a lot of people apparently who live in the area who just go back home after some shb's. i'm back from like, anaheim. which was nice for a few days, and the last week, but never more of the same thing for more than three days.
the next semester starts. it's scary just thinking about it. i mean, new classes, new friends, new experiences -- to start things off we have this ski trip, and to cap things off we have that china trip. who knows what's going to happen in the in-between. there's the possibility of me falling in love again or finding another bestest best friend or having a doozy trying to keep my schedule balanced. (i mean, seventeen-nineteen units? can i really handle it?) i know i'm going to have the time of my life, though. i can feel it. it's when the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end whenever i pull up my schedule on bearfacts and i get kinda giddy in my chair. i can't help it. i'm starting to actually partake in what i want to partake in, whatever that mey end up being.
it's nice up here. the weather's perfect, not too cold, not hot at all. just like last time. the weather's the only thing constant that'll try to ground me for the onslaught of next semester. i start buying books tomorrow, and in about a week after that, i'll be in a classroom with thirteen other people learning the nuances of the portuguese language, and then a few hours later begin the textual analysis of spanish literary dialect. then a lecture on the brain, mind, and behavior, and that night, start practicing on the oboe and playing what we will ultimately perform in china. surreality sets in, and i love it.
please visit the ricebowljournals link on the sidebar, i'd really appreciate it. plus, feel free to leave comments on the entries themselves, sign the guestbook and the tagboard, and give me some suggestions as to what we can add to make wolfman's nickname humongously long so that we can someday publish it in a book entitled, the nickname of brian wolf: because my name is wolf. it'll be a bestseller, i promise.
co-comms in a few days. here's crossing my fingers and hoping for the best.
the next semester starts. it's scary just thinking about it. i mean, new classes, new friends, new experiences -- to start things off we have this ski trip, and to cap things off we have that china trip. who knows what's going to happen in the in-between. there's the possibility of me falling in love again or finding another bestest best friend or having a doozy trying to keep my schedule balanced. (i mean, seventeen-nineteen units? can i really handle it?) i know i'm going to have the time of my life, though. i can feel it. it's when the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end whenever i pull up my schedule on bearfacts and i get kinda giddy in my chair. i can't help it. i'm starting to actually partake in what i want to partake in, whatever that mey end up being.
it's nice up here. the weather's perfect, not too cold, not hot at all. just like last time. the weather's the only thing constant that'll try to ground me for the onslaught of next semester. i start buying books tomorrow, and in about a week after that, i'll be in a classroom with thirteen other people learning the nuances of the portuguese language, and then a few hours later begin the textual analysis of spanish literary dialect. then a lecture on the brain, mind, and behavior, and that night, start practicing on the oboe and playing what we will ultimately perform in china. surreality sets in, and i love it.
please visit the ricebowljournals link on the sidebar, i'd really appreciate it. plus, feel free to leave comments on the entries themselves, sign the guestbook and the tagboard, and give me some suggestions as to what we can add to make wolfman's nickname humongously long so that we can someday publish it in a book entitled, the nickname of brian wolf: because my name is wolf. it'll be a bestseller, i promise.
co-comms in a few days. here's crossing my fingers and hoping for the best.
1.10.2003
who ever said that mtv turned to bull crap? i never thought i'd be seriosuly debating myself (!) about whether or not this country should implement abstinence-only versus comprehensive sexual education programs. sexual health, something that i know concerns all of us, even though you don't want to admit it or if the subject's too touchy, but it's there and we have to. sexual health, from mtv. mtv. i thought i was going to be watching some kick-ass music video or some really stupid rerun of either trl or the music video awards from last year. and lo and behold, it actually struck a chord and made me wonder.
i'm a virgin myself. no big surprise there, eh, folks? considering i've only ever had one real relationship my entire life, it's nothing to me. but then i remember that i'm in a society where so many stigmas come along with so many different things. "you haven't had sex yet?" "i lost my virginity already. so?" "i'm waiting until marriage -- does that make me a prude?" "i've had sex. it wasn't what i expected, but i did it."
so let's talk about sex. (baby, let's talk about you and me, let's talk about all the good things and the bad things that may be...) this country needs to realize that abstinence-only programs may work in some areas, but not everywhere else. if you teach a child to say no from the beginning, it'll keep on with them for the rest of their lives. well, a lot of people don't seem to think so. if they're not given the facts, the options they have and the knowledge that comes along with having sex, they're just living this lie that kids will make the right choice and abstain. but we all know that's not going to happen. i mean, we have laws against murder, and the consequences of that will surely lead you to a different path in life. but that doesn't stop some people from committing the crime in the first place.
i'm not saying that sex is a crime; in fact, sex is a wonderful thing. some people just don't realize that teenagers, we are affected by this. we're going through that phase of 'everyone's doing it so why can't we', of making our own decisions while trying to stay in the realm of being a good child. we're expected to make our own decisions in life eventually, and these people who advocate abstinence-only programs i think are wearing these goggles that prevent them from realizing that. with or without the education at their hands, people are going to have sex, and knowing the difference between staying safe and having a good time against having a good time and getting sick, well, that's one more thing we need to be people who are aware of what's going on around them. no matter what you do, there's always that looming decision of sex and all that comes with it. better informed decisions, rather than people telling you not to do something -- that's what ends up being most helpful to the individual in the long run.
i'm spent.
i'm a virgin myself. no big surprise there, eh, folks? considering i've only ever had one real relationship my entire life, it's nothing to me. but then i remember that i'm in a society where so many stigmas come along with so many different things. "you haven't had sex yet?" "i lost my virginity already. so?" "i'm waiting until marriage -- does that make me a prude?" "i've had sex. it wasn't what i expected, but i did it."
so let's talk about sex. (baby, let's talk about you and me, let's talk about all the good things and the bad things that may be...) this country needs to realize that abstinence-only programs may work in some areas, but not everywhere else. if you teach a child to say no from the beginning, it'll keep on with them for the rest of their lives. well, a lot of people don't seem to think so. if they're not given the facts, the options they have and the knowledge that comes along with having sex, they're just living this lie that kids will make the right choice and abstain. but we all know that's not going to happen. i mean, we have laws against murder, and the consequences of that will surely lead you to a different path in life. but that doesn't stop some people from committing the crime in the first place.
i'm not saying that sex is a crime; in fact, sex is a wonderful thing. some people just don't realize that teenagers, we are affected by this. we're going through that phase of 'everyone's doing it so why can't we', of making our own decisions while trying to stay in the realm of being a good child. we're expected to make our own decisions in life eventually, and these people who advocate abstinence-only programs i think are wearing these goggles that prevent them from realizing that. with or without the education at their hands, people are going to have sex, and knowing the difference between staying safe and having a good time against having a good time and getting sick, well, that's one more thing we need to be people who are aware of what's going on around them. no matter what you do, there's always that looming decision of sex and all that comes with it. better informed decisions, rather than people telling you not to do something -- that's what ends up being most helpful to the individual in the long run.
i'm spent.
banana
the golden luster of her skin
reminds you of cool summer breezes,
and the song of the wind
lilts so as she pleases.
she is scared.
she has dared
to venture out and explore
the world around her. more
and more she sees things so clear.
but no one must know, no one must hear.
no one must know, no one must hear --
her exploits have driven most all to fear.
and so he found out at one junction in time.
what was she to do then?
she ran... until this serious crime
was committed: her end.
he beat her senseless.
she could not look him in the eye
nor scream
nor cry
nor fight back.
her skin bruised brown and black
aching, swollen, broken.
inside she felt like mush.
as if she had been worth nothing,
no seed to sow,
no life to live.
she could not take it anymore.
she ran towards him and fought back
and punched and yelled and kicked
harder than ever
and gave up.
a final blow to the face
split her skin open, wounding her precious
sweet truth.
there was mush.
and there was nothing to live for.
--[come, mistah nate-ah-man, tally me banana]--
the golden luster of her skin
reminds you of cool summer breezes,
and the song of the wind
lilts so as she pleases.
she is scared.
she has dared
to venture out and explore
the world around her. more
and more she sees things so clear.
but no one must know, no one must hear.
no one must know, no one must hear --
her exploits have driven most all to fear.
and so he found out at one junction in time.
what was she to do then?
she ran... until this serious crime
was committed: her end.
he beat her senseless.
she could not look him in the eye
nor scream
nor cry
nor fight back.
her skin bruised brown and black
aching, swollen, broken.
inside she felt like mush.
as if she had been worth nothing,
no seed to sow,
no life to live.
she could not take it anymore.
she ran towards him and fought back
and punched and yelled and kicked
harder than ever
and gave up.
a final blow to the face
split her skin open, wounding her precious
sweet truth.
there was mush.
and there was nothing to live for.
--[come, mistah nate-ah-man, tally me banana]--
1.06.2003
you'd think, being the "considerate" person i am, that i would remember what five days ago was. of course, to everyone else it was new year's day, but it's very significant for me because it was my father's birthday. and you know what? i feel horrible because i just realized right now that five days ago was his birthday. not even a phone call,nor a card, nor an email. he's in the philippines right now, and i can't really do much about any situation to make it seem any better. i feel so terrible. i haven't seen my dad in close to three years now -- last time i saw him i was there for my aunts' joint fiftieth birthday and twenty-fifth anniversary. and to think, i have a half-brother and a half-sister with him there, and that when i'm thirty years old my half-brother would be eighteen, and my half-sister would be twelve. it's crazy... and the fact that it was in the very corner of my mind and i did nothing about it, well, then, it just totally messes with my head.
i don't know about many of you, but having four parents feels a litle bit more than weird for me. especially when your dad and your stepmom and your half-siblings live in another country altogether. it used to be that i lived with my dad's side of the family, and now i'm practically living this next twelve years here with my mom. twelve years seems to go by so fast what with all this moving and meeting new people and experiencing new things -- which is never a bad thing, mind you -- but it can be very taxing for someone like me who had been trying for all eighteen years of my existence to quit living in the shadows of both my older brother and my younger cousin. it's like being the middle child all over again.
my older brother looks a lot like my mom. if you saw pictures you would think they were themselves siblings. and i guess that's a big reason why my brother identifies a lot more with my mom's side of the family than i do. he lived with my mom's side in the philippines, which meant that as i was living with my dad's side of the family (think grandparents and aunts and uncles), my brother was in a house five minutes away living an entirely different life. i came to identify my grandmother as my mother figure since my parents had divorced when i was around three years old and my mother had moved to the united states. i bonded a lot more with that side of the family, and i can't really blame anyone for anything that happened. it happened, that's why. and as much as i'd like to have seen it changed, it's not ever going to.
i, however, look a lot more like my dad. put my senior picture right next to my dad's old yearbook picture and you'd get almost the same thing. it's eerie, seeing that. theres this unspoken animosity between my brother and my dad's side of the family. i won't get into particulars just yet, but let's just say he felt betrayed because one of my cousins (on my dad's side) is an over-achieving freak. he came to see his cousins on our mom's side as his brothers and sisters. honestly, though, i thought it was much more of a living soap opera than anything. there was always too much drama and misunderstanding. and part of that is the reason why i hated my last year in the philippines, why i was so ready and eager to try out a new life. i wanted a clean slate because i could reinvent myself, find a new identity.
did you know i was supposed to be a second-year in college by now? i tested out of seventh grade but my mom was just a little hesitant because i had come from an extremely traditional and conservative culture of non-dating and authority figures all over the place. she was right in doing so, i appreciate it. i wasn't mature enough mentally nor socially to find myself in a junior high dance or an english class where the topic would be race relations. just the very idea of race relations was foreign to me. why did these people care so much about what color the other people's skin were? and then i'd remember that i wasn't raised in this country, that my dad's side of the family had instilled in me very grounding traditions about being proud of who you are and respecting other people.
i miss my dad. terribly. every time i receive an email or a phone call, i can't help getting teary-eyed. at times i feel as if i had abandoned him, just left him hanging without even a single goodbye. and then i remember that he helped me make this decision, that whatever happens happens, and that he'll stand behind mee every step of the way and help me up if i falter. for not having seen someone for about three years, he's had a huge impact on my life, a much larger one in his absence, and a more profound one when he was present. soon i hope he'll find opportunity to come knocking and thati would be able to see him much more often, even have him move here if the opportunity presented itself. but for now, things aren't looking so good. i just realized he'll have to send two kids through college when he's about sixty-five, and that i'll be half his age when one of my half-siblings starts going through puberty.
so in feeling like a horrible person, dad, if you ever even read this, or come across this webpage, what i'm saying is i'm sorry, i love you, and belated happy birthday. i wish you all the best of luck, that we'll see each other soon enough, and that may the new year ring in prosperity and happiness. i miss you so much. and in the future, when we see each other again, you'll see a spitting image of yourself and i can only hope i do you proud.
i miss and love you.
i don't know about many of you, but having four parents feels a litle bit more than weird for me. especially when your dad and your stepmom and your half-siblings live in another country altogether. it used to be that i lived with my dad's side of the family, and now i'm practically living this next twelve years here with my mom. twelve years seems to go by so fast what with all this moving and meeting new people and experiencing new things -- which is never a bad thing, mind you -- but it can be very taxing for someone like me who had been trying for all eighteen years of my existence to quit living in the shadows of both my older brother and my younger cousin. it's like being the middle child all over again.
my older brother looks a lot like my mom. if you saw pictures you would think they were themselves siblings. and i guess that's a big reason why my brother identifies a lot more with my mom's side of the family than i do. he lived with my mom's side in the philippines, which meant that as i was living with my dad's side of the family (think grandparents and aunts and uncles), my brother was in a house five minutes away living an entirely different life. i came to identify my grandmother as my mother figure since my parents had divorced when i was around three years old and my mother had moved to the united states. i bonded a lot more with that side of the family, and i can't really blame anyone for anything that happened. it happened, that's why. and as much as i'd like to have seen it changed, it's not ever going to.
i, however, look a lot more like my dad. put my senior picture right next to my dad's old yearbook picture and you'd get almost the same thing. it's eerie, seeing that. theres this unspoken animosity between my brother and my dad's side of the family. i won't get into particulars just yet, but let's just say he felt betrayed because one of my cousins (on my dad's side) is an over-achieving freak. he came to see his cousins on our mom's side as his brothers and sisters. honestly, though, i thought it was much more of a living soap opera than anything. there was always too much drama and misunderstanding. and part of that is the reason why i hated my last year in the philippines, why i was so ready and eager to try out a new life. i wanted a clean slate because i could reinvent myself, find a new identity.
did you know i was supposed to be a second-year in college by now? i tested out of seventh grade but my mom was just a little hesitant because i had come from an extremely traditional and conservative culture of non-dating and authority figures all over the place. she was right in doing so, i appreciate it. i wasn't mature enough mentally nor socially to find myself in a junior high dance or an english class where the topic would be race relations. just the very idea of race relations was foreign to me. why did these people care so much about what color the other people's skin were? and then i'd remember that i wasn't raised in this country, that my dad's side of the family had instilled in me very grounding traditions about being proud of who you are and respecting other people.
i miss my dad. terribly. every time i receive an email or a phone call, i can't help getting teary-eyed. at times i feel as if i had abandoned him, just left him hanging without even a single goodbye. and then i remember that he helped me make this decision, that whatever happens happens, and that he'll stand behind mee every step of the way and help me up if i falter. for not having seen someone for about three years, he's had a huge impact on my life, a much larger one in his absence, and a more profound one when he was present. soon i hope he'll find opportunity to come knocking and thati would be able to see him much more often, even have him move here if the opportunity presented itself. but for now, things aren't looking so good. i just realized he'll have to send two kids through college when he's about sixty-five, and that i'll be half his age when one of my half-siblings starts going through puberty.
so in feeling like a horrible person, dad, if you ever even read this, or come across this webpage, what i'm saying is i'm sorry, i love you, and belated happy birthday. i wish you all the best of luck, that we'll see each other soon enough, and that may the new year ring in prosperity and happiness. i miss you so much. and in the future, when we see each other again, you'll see a spitting image of yourself and i can only hope i do you proud.
i miss and love you.
1.04.2003
ever wish sometimes that your life would be so utterly different, fundamentally, to the very root of its core? as if your childhood had never transpired, as if your life had been lived by some other person... imagine the possibilities of changing something so uniquely yourself, what helped define you as yourself, and have it be taken away and replaced with something else. like, instead of having brown hair, you would be blond. or if your mother was born in mozambique instead of in america. something so seemingly useless a detail might prove ever so useful in changing someone's life.
one of my very first memories is looking up and seeing ceiling tile. you know, the kind of stuff you'd see when you looked up in the middle of biology because the lecture was not at all interesting and you tried to count how many of those little holes were on there. ceiling tile. beige ceiling tile, rectangular, and yes, with the same character holes as if they would never change through time. i was three. and the first memory of mine is being inside. not outside where the sun shone and the rain played, where the other normal children were. i loved to read childcraft encyclopedias and nursery rhyme books, like dr. seuss or the adventures of monkey, pig, and cat with the buddha. i remember my childhood as a picture book, full of the colors in my head that these pages would bring and the beige, the ever present beige that was in the background.
in all honesty, i hated going to school on thursdays. back in the ateneo the schedules were so fixed so that every student received a very liberal arts education in a small amount of time. music and art and home practicality were mandatory classes. but thursdays... thursdays meant physical education was on the schedule, and physical education meant strenuous activity.
i love soccer. the simplest rules, the simplest layout, the most complex strategies: who to pass to, who to defend against, where to hit the ball next. it was like a fast-paced game of chess, taking every ounce of concentration and perspiration out of your body. and knowing that i couldn't participate in anything as such because of this stupid heart condition i have made it that much harder to realize. it happened every time i liked a physical activity: i wouldn't be able to take the stress it would force upon my heart. soccer, rugby, or hell, even just plain running. i wanted to feel that "good burn" everyone else felt after they had done so. i wanted to sweat, i wanted to heave, and pant, and get dirty. but you know what? i had to write papers in order to get my grade for pe. every time i wanted to do something fun, even though i knew the other kids hated it, i secretly wanted to be in that group where they took being able to run for granted. even now, i still can't. sprinting makes me puke. literally.
and so living with a heart condition is not an easy thing at all. the first time i remember going outside was when i went to preschool out in the philippines in the jose abad santos memorial school (jasms). jasms had a playground and a sandbox. and the great thing was, it was outdoors. and outdoors meant that whenever i looked up, i saw blue instead of beige.
at the ateneo, i never got to do any sort of physical activity. i always had to sit out days when the other kids would play basketball or run around screaming "i want the ball this time" or "to the left, tommy, to the left!" up until 4th grade, i didn't run. i sat inside doing mindless dribble paperwork, like coloring pictures or writing up exercises or taking a written quiz in pe.
and then i moved to the united states, skipped over 5th and 6th grades, and began pe in middle school. there was the coyote run that took up at least four and a half minutes of everyone's time -- except mine, of course. to get a good grade in pe all i had to be was booksmart and verbose. i had to write papers upon papers to make it look as if i had been studying the processes of the human body my entire life.
without this heart problem, my first memory would have been the bluest summer sky and raindrops falling on my head, hearing giggling and chitchat in the background. the trees would sway the monsoon season's arrival, the air would smell ripe for precipitation, and the people were ready for the streets to flood yet one more time. the hammock out on the front area of the house would have to be taken inside, and all the clothes on the line would have to go under the carport's shelter. the sun would be up, and it would be a nice, cool day. the breezes would just come in, and the echo of the radio system announcing the approach of a tropical storm lingers in everyone's ears. outside, the sky is blue. and inside, no one is crying.
i wouldn't have to deal with so much people worrying about my health here. nor would undue stress make me almost keel over and cough up a lung. but it takes so much effort to be the person i am without having to act as if it doesn't hurt as much, or that my hands are always that cold or playing off the sensation of some twisted inner demon biting the inside of your left ribcage, gnawing and stabbing and pulling the entire time for fifteen minutes as i struggle to smile and comprehend the booming noise of people asking me if i'm doing all right or if i need a glass of water. i wouldn't have been on the floor of my dorm room cringing in pain, or on my bed crying, or in someone's car when something like a punch in the left gut all of a sudden knocks the wind out of me. i wouldn't have to worry about making so many people who don't deserve to see me like this have to go through an almost traumatizing experience like that.
the doctors apparently told my mother that i would have only a fifty percent chance of survival during my first week post-birth. my ventricular septal disorder was abnormally large for a baby of my size, and that if my parents wouldn't do anything over the course of that week, then i might die. my mother was a firm believer in the power of miracles and christ. she prayed for three days. i was out of the hospital the day after.
if only life were so simple as to say, i wish i had no more heart problem and it would disappear. that tears would never blur my vision, and that my smile would never turn into a frown. that i could run, and i would be able to run as long as i wanted, up and down and left and right to all corners of the earth. that pain would never hurt me, that pain would cease to exist. and that i would be a normal person, the person you met at school or at orientation or in band without anything wrong with him. if life were so simple.
i guess it's a good thing that life isn't simple. i wouldn't be scared of dying on a rollercoaster or flying on a plane. i wouldn't have fallen in love and back again. i wouldn't have met my friends, the most important people in my life who helped shape and mold me into who i am today. i wouldn't have seen such happiness blossom right before my very eyes, and feel the sting and agony of death. it tempts me, my problem. it makes me look at myself much more differently than had i not had this problem at all.
if i didn't have it with me, i would not have been the same person you know now. no wisecracking jokes, no sarcasm, no go bears attitude. i would have been the normal kid, the one everyone ignores because they're unique like everyone else. i wouldn't be the kid who took aspirin a lot, nor would i be the history buff in 7th grade, nor would i be the drum major in high school.
tomorrow promises to be blue. and i'll wake up knowing that i will still have this heart condition, no matter how much simpler i wish for life to be. but i have people to help me along the way, people who could make my life that much simpler just by simply being there.
so funny when you feel something like a heart attack annoying your left side for close to nine hours now. you begin to wonder about the most trivial things. and if things could change, how it would happen under your control.
if only life were so simple.
one of my very first memories is looking up and seeing ceiling tile. you know, the kind of stuff you'd see when you looked up in the middle of biology because the lecture was not at all interesting and you tried to count how many of those little holes were on there. ceiling tile. beige ceiling tile, rectangular, and yes, with the same character holes as if they would never change through time. i was three. and the first memory of mine is being inside. not outside where the sun shone and the rain played, where the other normal children were. i loved to read childcraft encyclopedias and nursery rhyme books, like dr. seuss or the adventures of monkey, pig, and cat with the buddha. i remember my childhood as a picture book, full of the colors in my head that these pages would bring and the beige, the ever present beige that was in the background.
in all honesty, i hated going to school on thursdays. back in the ateneo the schedules were so fixed so that every student received a very liberal arts education in a small amount of time. music and art and home practicality were mandatory classes. but thursdays... thursdays meant physical education was on the schedule, and physical education meant strenuous activity.
i love soccer. the simplest rules, the simplest layout, the most complex strategies: who to pass to, who to defend against, where to hit the ball next. it was like a fast-paced game of chess, taking every ounce of concentration and perspiration out of your body. and knowing that i couldn't participate in anything as such because of this stupid heart condition i have made it that much harder to realize. it happened every time i liked a physical activity: i wouldn't be able to take the stress it would force upon my heart. soccer, rugby, or hell, even just plain running. i wanted to feel that "good burn" everyone else felt after they had done so. i wanted to sweat, i wanted to heave, and pant, and get dirty. but you know what? i had to write papers in order to get my grade for pe. every time i wanted to do something fun, even though i knew the other kids hated it, i secretly wanted to be in that group where they took being able to run for granted. even now, i still can't. sprinting makes me puke. literally.
and so living with a heart condition is not an easy thing at all. the first time i remember going outside was when i went to preschool out in the philippines in the jose abad santos memorial school (jasms). jasms had a playground and a sandbox. and the great thing was, it was outdoors. and outdoors meant that whenever i looked up, i saw blue instead of beige.
at the ateneo, i never got to do any sort of physical activity. i always had to sit out days when the other kids would play basketball or run around screaming "i want the ball this time" or "to the left, tommy, to the left!" up until 4th grade, i didn't run. i sat inside doing mindless dribble paperwork, like coloring pictures or writing up exercises or taking a written quiz in pe.
and then i moved to the united states, skipped over 5th and 6th grades, and began pe in middle school. there was the coyote run that took up at least four and a half minutes of everyone's time -- except mine, of course. to get a good grade in pe all i had to be was booksmart and verbose. i had to write papers upon papers to make it look as if i had been studying the processes of the human body my entire life.
without this heart problem, my first memory would have been the bluest summer sky and raindrops falling on my head, hearing giggling and chitchat in the background. the trees would sway the monsoon season's arrival, the air would smell ripe for precipitation, and the people were ready for the streets to flood yet one more time. the hammock out on the front area of the house would have to be taken inside, and all the clothes on the line would have to go under the carport's shelter. the sun would be up, and it would be a nice, cool day. the breezes would just come in, and the echo of the radio system announcing the approach of a tropical storm lingers in everyone's ears. outside, the sky is blue. and inside, no one is crying.
i wouldn't have to deal with so much people worrying about my health here. nor would undue stress make me almost keel over and cough up a lung. but it takes so much effort to be the person i am without having to act as if it doesn't hurt as much, or that my hands are always that cold or playing off the sensation of some twisted inner demon biting the inside of your left ribcage, gnawing and stabbing and pulling the entire time for fifteen minutes as i struggle to smile and comprehend the booming noise of people asking me if i'm doing all right or if i need a glass of water. i wouldn't have been on the floor of my dorm room cringing in pain, or on my bed crying, or in someone's car when something like a punch in the left gut all of a sudden knocks the wind out of me. i wouldn't have to worry about making so many people who don't deserve to see me like this have to go through an almost traumatizing experience like that.
the doctors apparently told my mother that i would have only a fifty percent chance of survival during my first week post-birth. my ventricular septal disorder was abnormally large for a baby of my size, and that if my parents wouldn't do anything over the course of that week, then i might die. my mother was a firm believer in the power of miracles and christ. she prayed for three days. i was out of the hospital the day after.
if only life were so simple as to say, i wish i had no more heart problem and it would disappear. that tears would never blur my vision, and that my smile would never turn into a frown. that i could run, and i would be able to run as long as i wanted, up and down and left and right to all corners of the earth. that pain would never hurt me, that pain would cease to exist. and that i would be a normal person, the person you met at school or at orientation or in band without anything wrong with him. if life were so simple.
i guess it's a good thing that life isn't simple. i wouldn't be scared of dying on a rollercoaster or flying on a plane. i wouldn't have fallen in love and back again. i wouldn't have met my friends, the most important people in my life who helped shape and mold me into who i am today. i wouldn't have seen such happiness blossom right before my very eyes, and feel the sting and agony of death. it tempts me, my problem. it makes me look at myself much more differently than had i not had this problem at all.
if i didn't have it with me, i would not have been the same person you know now. no wisecracking jokes, no sarcasm, no go bears attitude. i would have been the normal kid, the one everyone ignores because they're unique like everyone else. i wouldn't be the kid who took aspirin a lot, nor would i be the history buff in 7th grade, nor would i be the drum major in high school.
tomorrow promises to be blue. and i'll wake up knowing that i will still have this heart condition, no matter how much simpler i wish for life to be. but i have people to help me along the way, people who could make my life that much simpler just by simply being there.
so funny when you feel something like a heart attack annoying your left side for close to nine hours now. you begin to wonder about the most trivial things. and if things could change, how it would happen under your control.
if only life were so simple.
1.03.2003
back in berkeley for a weekend. and for the stanfurd game, no less. how appropriate that my hair is red right now. at least i'm wearing a hat all day tomorrow to cover it up. let's just say it was a botched re-dye project. thanks mom, i owe you my bright red hair.
it is a very refreshing feeling being back up here at berkeley. just the atmosphere is different. there's a nice force out here that's not oppressive or intimidating or even condescending. it's such a nice feeling being back with a few people that i have been so used to seeing everyday. and then leaving on sunday to head back down to anaheim, well, let's just say i'm kinda racking up these frequent flyer miles, and i think i'm the only one considering three airlines went bankrupt all of these past two years.
i have an urge to just consume anything edible in sight. i've been hungry this past week and i don't know why. like three servings of cereal in one ginormous bowl with whole milk (yes, that whole milk). or four large scoops of rice and lots and lots of filipino food. (alan can vouch for the lumpia being extremely good and large.) i guess hunger pains are synonymous with boredom. it's all i practically did in between net surfing (so active!) and videogames. by the way, if you haven't done so already, go pick up a ps2. they're hella fun.
going to see catch me if you can later tonight. ought to be good, from what i've heard from many reliable sources.
and did you see that i was person of the week on beth's journal? i am very moved... proud, even.
back at cal... it feels so surreal, but it feels like home.
it is a very refreshing feeling being back up here at berkeley. just the atmosphere is different. there's a nice force out here that's not oppressive or intimidating or even condescending. it's such a nice feeling being back with a few people that i have been so used to seeing everyday. and then leaving on sunday to head back down to anaheim, well, let's just say i'm kinda racking up these frequent flyer miles, and i think i'm the only one considering three airlines went bankrupt all of these past two years.
i have an urge to just consume anything edible in sight. i've been hungry this past week and i don't know why. like three servings of cereal in one ginormous bowl with whole milk (yes, that whole milk). or four large scoops of rice and lots and lots of filipino food. (alan can vouch for the lumpia being extremely good and large.) i guess hunger pains are synonymous with boredom. it's all i practically did in between net surfing (so active!) and videogames. by the way, if you haven't done so already, go pick up a ps2. they're hella fun.
going to see catch me if you can later tonight. ought to be good, from what i've heard from many reliable sources.
and did you see that i was person of the week on beth's journal? i am very moved... proud, even.
back at cal... it feels so surreal, but it feels like home.
strawberry
the sunset in your eyes:
what a nice surprise.
the calming afternoon glow
is as soothing, so --
my heart smiles and warms.
what a beautiful charm.
your face, so naive, so innocent.
pleasant surprise for what spent
and that you deserve.
if only he had the nerve...
kindness does not fall far from the tree.
the challenge is in finding it, see.
staring you in the face, you're quite unaware
to find the spectacular things that are there.
like truth and the beauty, free it shall make you feel
and find peace in yourself, that love really is real.
love blossoms in the vine, so close to the heart:
a wonder how you didn't notice from the start.
unknown to your eyes he was holding your hand;
unknown to your heart he will surely understand.
of swift fortune and luck to have found two so true.
a kiss on the cheek, whisper 'i love you.'
a whirlwind romance of intricate detail
woven into and out of by friends in the hail.
to see you so happy, so sweet and in love
both smiling like strawberries in heaven above
we've yet to see frowns, and i hope we never do:
as long as the strawberries never turn blue.
sweet as the sweetest, taste me so fine.
make me feel so ever sublime.
--[nate likes his strawberries]--
the sunset in your eyes:
what a nice surprise.
the calming afternoon glow
is as soothing, so --
my heart smiles and warms.
what a beautiful charm.
your face, so naive, so innocent.
pleasant surprise for what spent
and that you deserve.
if only he had the nerve...
kindness does not fall far from the tree.
the challenge is in finding it, see.
staring you in the face, you're quite unaware
to find the spectacular things that are there.
like truth and the beauty, free it shall make you feel
and find peace in yourself, that love really is real.
love blossoms in the vine, so close to the heart:
a wonder how you didn't notice from the start.
unknown to your eyes he was holding your hand;
unknown to your heart he will surely understand.
of swift fortune and luck to have found two so true.
a kiss on the cheek, whisper 'i love you.'
a whirlwind romance of intricate detail
woven into and out of by friends in the hail.
to see you so happy, so sweet and in love
both smiling like strawberries in heaven above
we've yet to see frowns, and i hope we never do:
as long as the strawberries never turn blue.
sweet as the sweetest, taste me so fine.
make me feel so ever sublime.
--[nate likes his strawberries]--
you feel so small sometimes
miguel
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