WHO AM I?

I am a poet, artist, thinker, writer, playwright, filmmaker, HTML coder, brother, son, leader, friend who believes in changing the world.

I have a pipe dream of becoming a rock star; Just so I don't have to grow up.

i have been on medication everyday of my life since then, or so I believe.

- If you want to sound off on my comments, either email me sign the guestbook. Thank you.

- AND ALSO: Since I received a comment about me being bitter towards the world, I would like to reiterate that I am merely writing about snapshots of life and thought. I am a happy-go-lucky muther grubber. =)

I'll be the first to say it. Jill Scott is not one of those musical artists who you see on MTV and go, "TADOW". She has no eye-candy appeal like Miss Beyonce of Destiny's Child. But damn, she's defined sexiness in her song "A Long Walk" (Lyrics provided).

I first REALLY "heard" this song today in the car, while I was driving around for work. All I knew before today was the catchiness of the hook: "(Let's take) a long walk, around the park, after dark." She sounded like that badass Badu herself. Of course, upon listening longer I knew it wasn't Erykah, but it was the lady who Miss Badu replaced on The Roots love song, "You Got Me". So when I heard the words to the song, I melted.

I couldn't stand being in a relationship with a hollow female; one who I could not stay up at night and just TALK to about anything from love and life to the death penalty and could never pause without a word to say.

Plus, things like poetry and art are important to me. I couldn't see how I could imagine myself with anyone who couldn't appreciate me for my passion. I am just an ordinary guy, but still a person who could see the special things about me are truly unique.

I say Jill Scott defines sexiness in her song because I can't find any soulful or spiritual command on herself in any of the radio hits of Beyonce and those two other girls. Yeah, Independent Women is a cool song, but it's jiggyness and delivery sound like an example of 2001 Feminism where it's just not acceptable to be a non-Feminist. What I mean is that it doesn't sound sincere.. or to give benefit of the doubt.. it doesn't sound deep. Miss Scott comes DEEP.

- 5.02.01

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Jignasty Renditions, Gritty Propostions

.. and that's all.

I don't know what it is with pretty girls, but how come so many of them seem to have nothing in their heads but various combinations of matching make-up?
SEE, I love a physically beautiful female as the next heterosexual male would, but as far as trying to establish a meaningful relationship, I would have to pass.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not a fine ass guy or anything, and probably am not in the league of these beautiful people, but as I was saying in regards to Jill Scott's song, there is a certain vibe that is an unparalled level of sexiness. Most "pretty" girls just don't possess this sexiness.

Physically attractive people have it easy compared to those who are beautifully challenged. This is a similar relationship to rich and poor. Those who have can get without work, those who don't have to work hard to barely get anything. In this I mean those who can not use their physical attraction to round courters up must use their intellects and souls to land any interest. In the long run, this is more important as you develop yourself, while looking "fuckable" will only last you a two second glance at a club.

(BTW. I don't think all good looking people are like this. I am merely making an observation of the shallowness that comes from focusing on physical beauty versus soulful, spiritual, metaphysical enrichment. ONE LOVE.)

- 05.07.01

Yes.

I have taken it as a learning experience regarding my attachment issues. Sometimes we build things up to great expectations, but often are hit with roadblocks. And instead of dwelling on them, we should move on. Sometimes that means taking a step back to regroup.

I've cut my hair.

We all go through our moments. Thanks to those who gave a positive word.. sister, cousin, friends.

I get depressed when I'm bored. But now, I'm NOT bored. Check this out: THE KITCHEN. It's on open mic. I'll put up a review after it's done.

I've always went around saying that gifts and awards were excess baggage for me. But hey, who's gonna lie? I'm not: I love getting shit. Shut up. So do you.

So, I was sitting at dinner with my coworkers tonight and one of them mentioned something about not being appreciated by the opposite sex. On my drive home, I thought about it and really understood that one of the reasons I don't have a lady on my side is that no one seems to really appreciate me for whatever things I want appreciated.

FINE. I'm happy a girl may like me because I'm nice or whatever the reason. But I'm picky damnit. I am an aspiring visual and verbal artist. Can you give me some love? I am a financially struggling - surviving onle because i live at home non-profit counselor. Respect my dedication.

I'm super quirky. Love me for it. I'll love you back.

If I'm not currently involved by then, I've decided not to get married and just become a 40 year olf FONZ. (Arthur Fonzarelli - Happy Days, for the uncultured.)

So last week was "The Kitchen".. the almighty open mic of interest in the past few weeks. It turned out well becuase we raised some money for our camping trip at work. Personally, I needed more practice.

(John making excuses:) It was the first time I ever read in front of my homefriends and my coworkers. Everyone seems to know I write.. and have read.. but none of the aforementioned ever really witnessed it. Gotta say, I did real shitty. I was nervous. I was tired. I had no time to practice.

PRACTICE! I needed practice.

It was also the first time I read to any music. Thank you to ACID Hip Hop/Latin, Truc and Joey for providing the wonderful background.

on a more positive note, I was able to watch coworkers and friends perform, MC, and work hard and it made me so happy to be alive. Freals. I'm blessed with good company.

My friend Nikki was telling me one time how I always seem to come up with reasons to not court certain girls who I may have at least an inkling of interest in. I always seem to find faults or obstacles to rule out trying to talk to girls. Maybe I'm scared of rejection. Maybe not. It just happens.

Why is there always a reason?

I notice that I find the reasons to not like someone and rely on those rather than the reasons why I should try to gain her interest. Sometimes I rule out relationship possibilities because of whatever reasons. THere is always a reason NOT to.

BUT THEN AGAIN, there are also many reasons that I SHOULD.

Throughout college, as I have grown into my being, I have gained confidence in myself enough that I can try to create relationships with people, and rebuild if they do not work out. Yet, I still have the bad habit of building walls to potentially beautiful connections.

As I was waiting for my computer to reboot, I started doodling on this post it with a pencil. The first thing that popped up in my hand's brain was to write a girl's name. A specific girl.. anyway.. So I realized I just reverted back to my high school days of being totally googoo sprung over someone and having to just doodle random pieces with the name of the person of affection.

YIKES!

So, I suppose I can walk around with my head held high and say that, YES.. I have a crush. And, YES... I'm really diggin on someone.

It's so funny the things we trip over when we start crushing on someone. I was talking to my friend/coworker the other day and told her I wanted to play with my crush's hair. What the...?

And I know it's halfway psychological, but isn't it funny how we take every comment we share with our person of interest and find some meaning behind it.. and use it as a piece of our destiny together.

BUT before you go try guessing on who it is (for the folks who know me).. just STOP! =) I won't tell you anyway.

The super cheeseball in me is coming out full throttle. =\

For example, I was having a conversation with a friend once and I confidently said that I did not want a serious relationship because I did not want to settle down yet. I believed it. Damn straight. But a few seconds later, I analyzed my comment and quickly adjusted my insight and said, "I say that now, but if I meet that right girl, I know I'm gonna change my mind."

We say stuff like that all the time. People are always caught complaining about the people they have feelings for or whatnot.. or that girls suck.. or boys suck.. or that we don't want to settle down.. or that we don't want anything serious.. but in reality, what is meant is that girls or boys are still a top priority in our lives, but we just can't seem to click with the right one.

Two weekends ago, I spent two days camping out under the sun by Folsom Lake with some buddies. Within an hour or two of sitting in the foothills, a deer ran by with her child. It was really interesting to see the two deer just run through just barely 50 yards away from our campsite. Deer must be friendly... and a bit too comfortable with human interaction.

A week or so later, I walked into a group campsite and saw two deer just chillin by the campfire area. They saw us. They chilled. We walked closer. They chilled. We walked closer. They moved. Anti-climactic huh?

FINALLY, a day later, I was driving home on 680 and I saw two deer just chillin next to the freeway in the middle of the late afternoon. WHAT THE FUH..

If anyone knows what deer mean in mythology or symbolism or dreams, please hook me up with some sort of understanding.

My coworker and I were perusing through the mall and she pointed out Espirit. As were headed to that store, we passed by bebe, and since she had never shopped there, we slipped in for a few minutes. So, as we left and moved into Espirit, I took one of those double look deals and noticed my ex standing 40 feet right in front of me.

So, I turned around, uttered a nice vulgarity (OH SHIT) and told my coworker to leave. But right as I turned around, I heard someone yell out my FULL name. It wasn't my EX's voice. It turned out to be one of my high school buddies who I hadn't seen since our graduation 5 years ago.

She yelled out my name loud enough so that the whole store could see it. My ex wasn't that far away. I'm sure she heard it. She eventually walked out a few minutes later with some dood. Must've been her new boyfriend.

So, now I realize I was acting like a little boy, but I just didn't need that today. I'm already trippin over my current crush, but I was going through some internal soul searching.

My high school buddy is one of those few people that I actually wanted to see from high school. Funny how it ended up that I reunite with her the same time and place I have another run in with my EX. Life is such a double-edged sword.

"Dreamin of You" - Selena
This one gets the cake on super catchy. And as I was thinking earlier, somehow, this damn song reminds me of that summer cuz it was the first summer I ever had a girlfriend to share it with. Though, I spent more time with my best friend than her. So, this song also reminds me of my best friend at the time. Somehow, they were tightly intertwined and sadly I lost both of them within a year of each other. Well, at least I miss my EX-best friend.

"1st of tha month" - Bone Thugs
So this was the first hit for Bone after their first CD. Somehow, my suburban ass found someway to relate to the topic of food stamps and welfare checks... j/k. I've always been a fan of Bone Thugs despite my tenure as Mr. Hip Hop Purist Snob Biatch. Damn those fools got soul. Anyway... I remember rocking this song the morning I supposedly saw my EX-EX Girlfriend fly off to Guam never to be seen again. I remember it vividly. Kinda.

"Kiss from a Rose" - Seal
So, Ex-Mr. Tyra Banks rocked some shit with his ballad for the Batman movie. This song was just cool at the time, though I doubt I can listen to it anymore. Definite flashback to the Ex-Ex Flying to Guam situation.

"You are not Alone" - Michael Jackson
Another Ex-Ex going back to Guam Banger. I ate at IHOP for the first time the morning she flew to Guam. So, this song is interesting because my ex-ex's friends were my friends too.. well.. some of them. Anyway, the morning of her original flight, we thought we missed her before she flew off so the girls were all crying at the metal detector gates. The guys got to run around various terminals.. and we ended up joking about hijackings. Once us silly kids thought for a second, the girls called my Ex-Ex at her aunt's crib and she was still there. The attendant lady at the metal detector couldn't stop her self from laughing. It was the funniest shit. SO BACK TO THE DAMN SONG.. during the crying and melancholy mess, one of the friends said they were talking to her on the phone the night before and the song hit. So when the song played coming back from the airport, it just made everyone sadder.

Somehow, the ratings system for the motion picture industry has deemed that there is a difference between VIOLENCE and WESTERN VIOLENCE. If you have not yet noticed, most TV commercials for movies will show reasons for their given ratings. So, as I was sitting on my ass I saw that the new movie "American Outlaws" has a PG-13 rating. I suppose the insignificant "-13" results from their "Western Violence" disclaimer.

A gun is a gun is a gun is a bullet is a gun. Whether it's a gangbanger, mafia hitman, a white upperclass suburban boy, or a damn confederate cowboy pulling the trigger, the intent is there: death to another via a shot from a bullet from a gun. Violent entertainment should be measured on the same standards... school grades are even though the education is not equal all around. (But that's a whole different WEBSITE!)

Is there any logic that a movie full of guns and shooting can be considered far less "violently influential" than a damn RAP CD that cusses? Kids run around with plastic cowboy hats, plastic Indian feathers (whole 'nother website, once again), and plastic guns.. not plastic mics and miniature kangol hats. You mean to tell me that aggressive behavior like that of mimicking western shootouts isn't developmentally crippling?

Scapegoats don't grow up in the west, I guess. Only heroes.

The best song in the world is "Live Again". I found it last night and listened to it as I went to sleep. THANKS Truc for bringing that song to life.

But may I use your death,
Selfishly,
But respectfully.
Can I deal with my life
Introspectively?
You were less than a year younger
Than me.
But you lived much more completely,
Than me.
So now I see,
I shall not mourn.
I will celebrate.

Celebrate a life 
Viewed through the TV
And heard through CDs,
And admired through
My own pair of young eyes.
I saw then.  I still see.
I�ve forgotten how to live
To the highest degree.
How to use my education,
NAW.  Fuck my bachelor�s degree,
I�m talking about mental stimulation,
A self-indulgent dedication
To understand and express
Me.  Freely.

You soared through your vocal
Inflections,
Shined in positive vibes
Through your reflection.
And though I can admit,
I wasn�t your biggest fan,
And didn�t own all your songs,
I felt you.
I feel you so strong,
From an adolescent crush,
To my retrospective hush.

You are expression,
And I am the silent stroke of fear
And uncertainty
And indecisiveness,
Bonded together through a self neglecting
Sea of logic.

You were anointed as a princess
Of Arabic elegance,
Graced with harmony and beauty,
And sincerity, 
Inspiring through your name, eternally.

- 08/28/01

Watching Hurricane with Denzel Washington just hits me in the gut. The struggle of one man, though the cinema version may have not been historically accurate, still shines through. And I have the nerve to walk around sulking about my problems. How dare I.

"I didn't speak English. I spoke Hate."

If you haven't had the chance to watch "The Sandlot" go to Walmart and buy it. It's only $6.44 plus tax for the VHS. I doubt you need the DVD version of it.

If you love the passion of loving a sport for the game, you can not miss out. The youthful enthusiasm and the innocent love for the game by the characters in the movie is purely infectious. I itch to play baseball or softball everytime I watch the movie, and that's pretty often.

*|~|*

I bought World Series Baseball 2K2 for the Sega Dreamcast yesterday. I normally don't buy new video games, especially if they're above $20, but the fever is running high and I just needed to.

Oddly enough, the team I chose to be my franchise team is not the beloved Amazings (the New York Mets), but rather my long time arch nemesis team, the local boys, The San Francisco Giants.

Have I turned my back? I doubt it. I am a true blue Mets fan, but I love the Yay.

[BTW - after 4 games, bonds has 4 homers. I only have a 40 game season.]

~|*|~

I took a trip to Davis the other day and found myself playing a twilight game of homerun derby two nights in a row. We used a wiffle bat and make shift balls.

I don't know what's so exhilirating about such a childlike practice, or maybe it's just that much satisfying to just act like a kid and love it.

Dear ____________,

The other night, my friend asked me a simple question. This is my response.

I have struggled the past few weeks to decide whether or not to risk the rapport and friendship we have gradually built to express to you how highly I think of you. People have said that I should because I create excuses and refuse to express myself too often. Others have said I should not because of the likely uneasyness I would create and inevitable rejection I would have to endure.

I seem to have chosen the latter option. I don't believe it is fear, because I do not fear rejection. I welcome it. I am a big boy, I can handle it. Yet, the circumstances in which I find ourselves dictate my decision. Maybe I'm exhibiting extreme patience. Maybe I really am scared, and I just don't recognize it.

Nevertheless, I still find you as compelling as the moment I first noticed your physical beauty. Yes, I noticed. Who wouldn't? Who couldn't? Yet, physical attractiveness can only get you so far, and fortunately for myself and this world, you have a lot more to offer.

I have claimed in the past that I could not picture myself settling for a female who could not inspire me through inquisitive thought and a strong understanding of herself and the world. Frankly, I think I would find myself bored without the proper level of mental and spiritual stimulation. I imagined this figure of strength, and found it in an unlikely face.

I became attracted to a smile, a face, and the liveliness of your energy. I've become compelled to learn more of a person who cares to care and who seeks to better herself mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. You are the epitome of completion and balance.

It has become an undaunting task finding a potential girlfriend, let alone friends, who can pick my brain and succeed. You are not only a romantic endeavor but also a mental challenge with the ability to make me ask of the validity of my own beliefs. And you do this without once conceding to ignorance and I do this without getting offended.

I have not found many who I find I can learn from about living a better life and making myself a more complete person. And you were able to do this. No, not because of infantile attraction, but through the honesty and integrity of your existence. Yes, you have affected my life.

I appreciate you for the person you are, and the person I can see you want to be. I believe, you will attain your wisdom and understanding, and share it with the world. Could I ever be the recipient of such blessings? I doubt I will, if I do not say a word. But should I?

To answer my friend who asked me the question: Yes. She is worth it.

Always,

I suppose they are joyful spirits, rather than vengeful poltergeists because I have seen more deer in the past 2 months than I did during my previous 22 years and 6 months of existence.

You may also recall that I asked people for possible symbols or meanings deer may have in other cultures or in dreams. Since I did not receive any replies, I composed a definition for myself:

In such times of horror and hateful energy, it becomes almost impossible to find the positive things. Even without the terrifying events of last week, we still often find ourselves hungry for satisfaction and suffocated from monotony, among other problems. Yet, simple treasures surround us daily.

A deer is not the mystical symbol a unicorn is. They live just past our backyards in the few uninhabited patches of the hills. Yet, they are precious at every sight. Like every shooting star would be, in a night when you could see a million, each streaking flash across the sky is precious.

I am blessed with many small trinkets of treasure around me. As the same with you. Yet, at times like these when roughness overcomes our delicate emotions, we always forget...

... until we are graced with deer, a shooting star, or a hug from a friend.

Fundi Kiburi - This man was my TA for the first Sociology class I ever took. Sociology 3 was titled "Intro to Social Problems". We learned about educational inequalities, environmental issues, and various other typical political topics. Fundi was a middle aged African American man who claimed he was a former Black Panther and talked about his past endeavors in the civil rights movement. Naturally, I was impressed. Being that it was only my second quarter of college, everything had its eye-opening impact. This man taught me about various issues regarding captialism and our current socio-political schemes and always tended to rant. I was in the more liberal discussion section. Thank you Fundi Kiburi for welcoming me into the world of sociology.

Mr. Weber - My fourth grade teacher. I had moved from New York to California in the summer before fourth grade. Being placed in a new state, a new city, a new culture was obviously a difficult transition. Yet, I excelled in my class. I think I understood double digit multiplication faster than most of the other students (because my mom helped teach me.) Nevertheless, I naturally felt out of place, being a New Yorker in a California classroom. One time, at the library, Mr. Weber told me that he could hear a New Yorker accent in my speech. I felt so proud to be acknowledged for the city I loved unconditionally for the subsequent four years. Thank you Mr. Weber for supporting me.

Mrs. Webster - Although, during my latest visit at my high school, this lady had changed her name. My 5th - 8th grade English classes became very challenging. While I had prior success in writing compositions, I suddenly hit a roadblock in my writing development and I struggled greatly. Upon reaching 9th grade, I had slowly began to get more confident in my writing, but the support and encouragement Mrs. Webster gave me really impacted my overall academic success. At the end of the year, she chose me to be the editor of a mock newspaper we put together as a class. She trusted in my skills more than I did. This is life-altering. While in the previous four years I was told I was struggling, during the 9th grade year, I was told I was very good. Ever since then, I moved to Honors English and eventually fell in love with writing. Thank you Mrs. Webster, for awarding me Student of the Month and instilling in me the confidence only caring people coud and would do.

Yet, we often try to focus on the proactive response to not fear death or the afterlife, but just to worry on the quality of our lives at the present. I still agree and believe in this statement.

Though, we have a fear much greater and more crippling. We are afraid to live. We go through painstaking routines to avoid hardships and difficult situations. Take my love life for example, I always find reasons to not reveal my feelings. When we don't live, we don't succeed. When we don't live, we don't fail. When we don't live, we don't make the mistakes to learn from and try hard to never repeat.

We need our failures as much as we need our successes. Remember, the character of a person can be well behaved at good times, but is gravely tested at low points. A person who commits a hate crime at the peak of rage is not racist for the moment, he/she is RACIST.

So we must live. We must struggle to live and not be afraid to be who we are. If that means making mistakes, then we must do so, or else the integrity of our existence is rarely tested.

If you are a wife beating, child molesting, bigotry fueled, gun toting asshole, you can find undisputed salvation by waving an American flag at this time of desperate need.

True or False:

BACK TO PRESENT DAY. So, the A's won the game 5-1. With so much happening with the world in the past two weeks, being at the game gave more mental stimulation than any normal outing. With increased security, flags flying at half staff, and all the flags waving in the stands, the game was much more than a simple athletic competition. My eyes gazed at the sky at passing lights and the patrol of an Oakland PD helicopter. But there was joy, laughter and pride in the team and in a nation (hopefully for the people and not the symbol).

When my ex-girlgriend and I broke up, I cried on the phone call even though I knew we were gonna break up the whole week before. But even though I cried, it was relieving and in a way, really felt good.

Yet, on the 28th, the day after, I don't remember how I felt when I woke up, but by the middle of the day, I skipped the rest of my classes and ran off to the mall with my friends Gina and Kieu.

On the way back from the mall, we were listening to Lea Salonga and I just started balling uncontrollably. It was kinda embarrassing at the time, not because I cried, but because it was completely flowing madly with no hopes of any hesitation. I felt the pain the day of the aftermath. And continued to hurt every second further from the moment.

[today] - re: someone else

I am relieved. I am proud. I am happy that we are closer. I still hope, though I probably should not. I am sad, because I still have hope.

Life and spirituality. It such a simple concept, but I realize that our spirituality - our being within the dimensions of our soul - is our true path to the understanding of our physical being as humans. Everything is circular. you know, like yin and yang - balance. We have left brain and right brain working in a cycle to be ONE brain.

But yeah, the past few weeks have been beautiful. They've also been a bit extravagant as far as the spending goes, but nevertheless beautiful. Even a pseudo-heartbreak felt rather good (in a way.)

But I crossed the bridge I've always been to hesitant to cross - an if nothing else, I'm proud that I did. I think, though we all try to live, it's a constant struggle for us to take control of our own lives (because it takes a great effort), but when you start to actually grab the bull by the horns and actually LIVE, all you can do is smile with the good and smile with bad, move on, learn, and continue to live.

Thank you.

Do we really want an asshole to be driving next to us especially during rainy nights on bridges? Do we ever want our closest friends to hate on other people for the sake of hating? Etc. Etc. Etc. Rarely.

It's a bit ironic that one of the few times we desire the worst of people to come out is when we are trying to get over them. These people could be perfect in our eyes (or just in general) or they can even be hotbeds of negative characteristics but we still often find the sincerity of their hearts and souls because we love them.

Yet, because we care for these people so deeply, at times it hurts to love them. Break-ups, rejections, misunderstandings... when we are at a pivotal point in our relationship with these special people - we still care... still love... still yearn.

It is a great emotional task to get over special people because we do think so highly of them (or else we wouldn't have found them worth liking in the first place.) And though we can care for them and love them, sometimes convincing ourselves that they are evil and trying to either magnify their faults or project unfounded evils upon them settles our hearts and minds. You know, why should we like a person in that way if they, say, chew loudly when they eat? (hypothetical example)

Because all of us are connected somehow, I really feel that we have to force ourselves to learn from each other. And I do not mean learning algebra equations from our mathematically inclined friends, but rather analyxing our lives through others actions, and vice versa.

A lot of people like to consider the thought that we are only reflections of the people around us. To a high percentage, this is true. Through parents, family, friends, enemies, teachers, cops, and other interpersonal relationships we sculpt ourselves consciously (or subconsiciously) from what they do around us.

With this, most times we look at others and try to take the goodness that they give and hope that those things will eventually reflect on our own actions, thoughts and behaviors. I have friends who, no matter what they do, put smiles and laughter in my life. I try to do the same. Why not?

But then, there are those people who exibit the worst that we can think of in individuals. We can get mad. We can get irritated. We can get disgusted. Worst of all, we can judge... and we often do.

There is something about negative characteristics that we love to notice in others, but fail to discover in ourselves. (Not because they don't exist, but we're too scared to acknowledge their existence... at least some of us.) I think there's a term called "Projection" in psychology that explains how we can often put our negative thoughts into others to either avoid or deal with those negative traits within ourselves.

With the people around us, we can learn more than what good traits we could inherit. It seems that a lot of the times we quickly get frustrated with the shortcomings of other people occur because those are the negative characteristics we have in ourselves. Instead of dealing with them, we often project them as a defense mechanism.

The other day, Carolyn and I were talking about how it is difficult for a lot of people to write personally about themselves. They could be masters at essays and reseach projects, but at the instant when they are asked to compose a synopsis of their lives, they freeze.

Maybe some people are ashamed of who they are. Maybe sometimes people don't know. I think most people are just scared to face who they really are and maybe are just too scared to try to become better people.

I fear that I will not live my life enough for unfiltered passion and more for logic.

I fear that I will not find myself in a relationship with a woman who I think the world of, and vice versa.

I fear that the people of this world are meandering further and further apart.

I fear that I will never become the person I aspire to be.

I fear that the I will not be able to show the people I deeply care about how much I do truly love them.

I fear that I care more about most of my friends than they care about me.

I fear that I do not care enough for some of my friends, as they offer me the world.

I love how Kevin Smith breaks down human culture with his tongue-in-cheek stabs at irrelevant realities. Oh how I aspire...

So, I thought I had lost the art of a phone conversation. Or maybe I just lost the patience to partake in them. But luckily, in the past few months I've found myself in interesting and spiritually/emotionally, soulfully uplifting phone conversations which I can smile with pure sincerity afterwards.

The stars illuminated the dark night as symbols of upliftment. The millionth star was the millionth wrinkle in the brain. The billionth flash of light was the billionth cramp in the cheek from grinning.

The fisherman sat by the lake hoping to bring home just a small catch, enough to impress his lady friend in town. He held a notepad. He scribbled and doodled. In his head he wrote coherent prose, exposing all that he felt. But in the dead of night, he could not clearly see what he was writing. In the morning, he would review his notepad and see clarity in the chicken scratched etchings on the paper though no one else could.

Each night, the fisherman repeated his routine: casting out the line and doodling to his heart's content. In his brain he imagined endless conversations, but on the paper were unintelligible markings. After a while, his friends questioned why the fisherman owned multiple notebooks of such scribbling.

Maybe singlehood is the key to my artistic integrity. "Baby I want you, like the roses want the rain. Baby I need you, like the poet needs the pain." - In These Arms, Bon Jovi.

I am a young man and I want to live a full life while I have the time to do so. I find zero nobility in self indulgence when other lives are at stake. Artistry is at times, the most self indulgent craft to be a part of, but it's saving grace is that it is an inspiring tool for the world. "You would've been much more than a mouth to feed, to someone, I would've fed this information I read, for someone my life I would've had to lead." - Retrospect on Life, Common feat. Lauryn Hill

I was at the Milpitas Dave and Busters and saw Garrison Hearst and Jeremy Newberry chillin at the bar - less than 6 feet away from me and Dawn.

"Differences" - Ginuwine
Alrighty. So, I've never been a deadbeat player though I wish I could shed some of this niceness off me at times. Anyway, even though Ginuwine's talking about being a rehabilitated MAN (every woman's fantasy, right?) and I can not necessarily relate to the situation... if you got a LOVE JONES for any chick, this song hits the spot!

"A Woman's Worth" - Alicia Keys
Alrighty. I know I already put the words of this song on the webpage a few days ago, but I was listening to it in the car and just thinking. In my girlfriend's opinion, I am a real man. She sings: "A REAL MAN knows a woman's worth." Okay, but does that get me anywhere? Not really. (Girls don't REALLY want A NICE GUY, they want the asshole they got a thing for to BECOME the nice guy.)

The other day, I was glancing at job descriptions and noticed a perfect opportunity for my friend to get into something she had been talking about recently. I emailed it to her.

Yesterday, I received an email from my friend saying that she ran across a webpage that had an opportunity for me that she felt was perfect for me.

Fingertip Aggression. The next step in the supergaling.com family of webpages. You wanted feedback sessions, here you go! If you would like to be added, please sign the guestbook and I will add you. The link to the guestbook is near the top of the website.

Little did I know that she spent time at the mall yesterday putting it together, just so she could finish it by the time she left for her trip.

That was LAST NIGHT. Earlier today, I visited her and the others in her program at their office and tadaw.. she finished it already!!!! She's super dope!

You're negativity is my ammunition and though I do not shoot from guns I decorate your essence with spiritual violence. No, not as a terrorists, but as an aggressive pacifist believing in the honor of mind, soul, and heart not the shine of armor or vanity.

I've poured into your ears, the great mess of frustration. I will withhold. Instead, I sprinkle the sweat of hard work and rehabilitated tears. I care to cry.

I believe in myself and my people though you look with a condescending eye. You speak dishonesty, and we see through your skin. We are our strength.

So, the day has officially ended, and thus I am officially 23 and 1 day old. Another great multiple day celebration of life and it's vices, but hey, the fun is not over.

Thanks to everyone who remembered, called, and/or came out to the shindig in Davis. It is much appreciated. Thanks to the ladies at my old crib who were willing to host, yet another party.

BUT ENOUGH ABOUT THAT... I wanna jot down a list of the presents that I received, and though they were unnecessary, they are extremely appreciated.

[bling bling rag] - Arleene my buddy busted out the beddazler and hooked me up with a Bling Bling Do-rag and a bling bling cardboard necklace.

[rasta beenie-like beenie] I mentioned this before, but felt the need to bring it up a gain. I love it.

[crocheted scarf] - yet another instance where i requested extra time and effort to be taken on a gift and luckily i was blessed with such a dope response. (it also came with a home made card!)

Primo's Song
It hurts when we can't find the right person to engulf ourselves in, especially when the past hasn't been completely settled.

Cleansing
Ever question where disgruntled feelings arise? Ever question the sanctity of the beliefs you've grown up with?

Currently on the floor:
various CDs including Mystic, Usher, Outkast, Carl Cox, the Gorilaz and more, various VHS tapes including The Original Kings of Comedy, trash, books, my high school yearbooks, a whole mess of clothes, plus hella more.

I guess it's been long enough: one year and a half. I'm far enough removed and I've recovered, right? Kinda interesting that I claim to live a life with no regret - because I believe in learning from mistakes, yet, I do regret. And at times, it still eats at me. One and a half years ago, my term for MK Presidency ended.

For those who are not from Davis or are unfamiliar, Mga Kapatid (MK) is the largest and oldest Filipino American Student Organization at UC Davis. I was fortunate enough to serve various positions for the club, including the presidency. This is where the regret comes in: I was a piece of shit. By far, leaps and bounds, uncontested - in the five years I directly saw and was in the inside of the organization, I was the WORST President.

I always had a passion about making MK succeed. What I meant with succeed was to engage the students and utilize everyone's ideas and strengths to further make MK an organization BY and FOR the members. I tried. I failed. I tried too hard. I didn't back up my ideas with logical planning. I did not follow through. I failed harder than anyone else could have expected. I failed harder than I could ever had accepted.

The details of the year could make up a whole new webpage.. even a novel.. or a trilogy, but we don't need to go into those miniscule memories I have. Just know that I failed; I failed HARD. That is why I am remorseful.

As president, I left MK in a weakened state - structurally and emotionally. It was the antithesis of what I envisioned MK to become after I was done. That is my remorse. I had to witness the following year's MK Board suffer through housekeeping issues because I had left a mess. That is why I remorse.

At the time, I grew further and further away from most of the people who I considered my PEOPLES, my homies, my barkada, my family. Most of the people I was close to were the older MK members who introduced me to the game and the people in my year, the ones who were learning along side myself. So when I envisioned various changes and the board went along with it, I jumped at the chance to troubleshoot the problems I felt the organization was suffering from. They were noble ideas. They were of the best intentions. But I didn't plan well nor did I follow through when I did plan. I also never found the time to voice my concerns to the masses and give reason to the proposed changes. My fault.

So through this, the people who I had trusted as friends and collegues began to drift away. People started to talk shit. It's okay. I was president. I was a public figure in the realms of our small world. I was tinkering with the organization that many people dedicated their collegiate time to. I knew that I would find resistance and ridicule coming in. My belief was that when something would go well, the SPECIFIC members who planned it and worked on it would get credit. I wanted that. Yet, when the shit would hit the fan, I knew I would be the one targetted and remembered for it. I accepted that.

So it was irritating to have my homies talk shit behing my back. It was business, though. I accepted it. But somewhere along the business disagreements started to interfere with my personal relationships. FRIENDS - don't try to lie to yourself or to me.. you KNOW YOU TALKED SHIT about ME - not the MK President at the time, but ME - your supposed brother and friend. (It's okay, I'm over it.) At the time, I knew what was going on. I knew the condescending rhetoric and glances I was receiving (especially from those who I looked up to.) I deserved most of it. I wasn't doing a good job.

See, I was never really saddened at the time. I was upset and angry - in a defensive way. But now, as I think back, there was fucked up shit going on. At the lowest point I had ever felt in the four years I was a student at UC Davis, few of MY PEOPLES ever even got my back. No. There was just more shit talking. There was just more head shaking. But it's okay, I guess. I was MK PRESIDENT. I deserved the anguish I was feeling because I wasn't doing my job right. I didn't realize that when I became the PRESIDENT that I was a title, and no longer a person, let alone a friend.

When the meeting attendance was down, did I see my friends there? No. When all the disagreements and unacceptance of what was going on was occurring, did my PEOPLEs stop and ask me why the hell I was doing what I was doing? Some. Most didn't. I stopped talking to most of my peoples. I didn't want to withstand the looks. I didn't need that shit when I was dealing with it already.

I find it funny that though MK was supposedly so important, no one had time to deal with the "new" MK. Or at least, most did not want to go further than complaining about "unwarranted" changes and just wanted to compare the new with the old. There were 850 Filipino American identified students on the UC Davis campus. Each year I saw a maximum of 50 active members who worked throughout the year, not just for PCN. I thought I could try to change that. I fucked up. I didn't. I did worse. So the shit talking, I suppose is acceptable.

I sit here typing about things that happened over a year and a half ago. And NOW I am mad. NOW I am angry. It's FUCKING IRONIC that we ask each other how we are, but rarely do we actually care. It's even worse that I rarely even got a simple token gesture of friendship from MY PEOPLES. At least not from most of them. And I'm not looking for remorse and I was never looking for pity, but as friends, as homies, as barkada, as family you'd think that people would care, at least for ONE MUTHER FUCKIN second. But no. I realize that was too hard because I represented an MK that they did not want to be a part of. I represented such a horrific MK that I was not worthy of their friendship anymore.

It's okay now, though, you know. One and a half years. I still love MK. I still love my friends. I still feel like I fucked up, but you wouldn't know unless you asked me huh? See, I broke down one afternoon at the Silo. I wrote rage. It was actually on the MK newsgroup. I forgot what it was specifically about, but I'm sure I just heard the, at the time, latest mistake I had made. So I broke down. I didn't cry. But I broke down. Ever felt that for MK? I doubt it. Tell me you love MK more than I do. Tell me you EVER loved it the way I did. It was my FUCKING passion , damnit. I wouldn't be at my job now if it wasn't for all that I learned in MK - good and unfavorable. But I STILL broke down. And never did I ever publicly try to defend myself against the shit talking. I never felt the right to.

Ever seen the American President with Michael Douglas? Well, that was me. I sat there and I allowed all the negative reaction from what I was or wasn't doing and I just endured it. I didn't ever strike back against anyone did I? Did I ever participate in a game of gossip trade? Did I ever try to flex my passion and intentions against the anti-christ image I was given? NO!

And so I am angry. In hindsight, I am angry. I am angry because the people who I was supposed to rely on to be my homey unconditionally didn't know I existed at the time, only John the MK president. Thanks peoples. You're the best.

If you think this is about you... maybe it is.. maybe it isn't. I think we all have a grasp of how we felt towards a certain person during a time at a given place. If you're angry I wrote this... i don't need to hear it. If you feel guilty and want to apologize... I don't need to hear it. These are just my thoughts, and felt I finally needed to share.

P.S. Statement: John was drunk at Icebreaker. Reality: NO FUCKHEADS! It was my apartment and it was the first time many of those people would have seen me as president. I'm a bit more aware and professional than that.

P.P.S. Complaint: I did not incorporate the board members into discussion or decision making. Reality: If you felt this way, I apologize, but I'd like you to think back and count how many times I asked you all what you felt about what we were talking about and you replied with no sign of cognition.

- John. the FORMER MK PRESIDENT (if that's how you'd like to see me)

TITLED: if you don't hate me yet...

YOU WANT TO BREAK ME?

I'm gonna break.
I'm gonna break.
I'm gonna break.
No, it ain't cuz I'm weak.
it's cuz you're weak.
and you drain my strength,
when I have to hold you up.
I'm gonna break.
Myself.
you...
and you'll break..

thank you
for your thankless words,
no.  i don't want recognition.
I wanted change.
I wanted to dedicate my love,
and it went wasted.
you think it doesn't hurt?
this tears away,
every frickin day,
and you stil expect me to be strong?
you don't expect me to break?
is that what you WANT?

I try my best

and even when I don't,
I still try.
but nothing's good enough.

I tried to answer your call.
What you do?
EFF YOu!

this ain't about community,
it's all about YOU?
YOU!
YOU!
just one frickin letter
out of the alphabet!
That's it!
It's not all.
Not all the words!
Not even a sentence!
I try to write essays,
I try for books,
you just write one letter.
I or U.

I don't OWE you.

YOU WANT ME TO BREAK?
I don't pretend that I'm all that,
and you want me to break?

WHY?

Like it's so simple.
I have to please you.
answer to him.
bow down to her.
and all are saying,
I,
for them.

DO YOU SEE, WHAT YOU DO?
YOU DO want me to BREAK!@

Tear my heart in pieces.
WHY?
Do you hate me?
cuz real friends..
real people..
DON'T SHOW LOVE
the WAY you DO.
EFF YOU.

WHY DA FUCK do you WANT me TO BREAK?
I NEVER did SHIT to you!

and you hate me.

go ahead an break me.
ain't worth a dime to you anyway.
that's how it is.
EVERYDAY!
NO!!! I AIN'T WEAK!
EFF YOU.
I HATE YOU TOO.

All I wanted was to give.
and that's what I tried.
And all you've done is
TAKE.
Take from me.
more than I can give.
Like I'm infinite.
Like my life has no end.

I'M GONNA BREAK!
Do you want me to DIE?
Fine you Bastard,
I'LL DIE.
You'd still complain,
just so your world is prettier.
It still wouldn't be enough.

BUT WHEN I DIE,
let me ask you this:
who the hell's gonna be around
to take your ISH?

You don't kill me.
You just break me.
BREAK ME!
WITH NO MERCY!
I take all your crap,
and I try to change,
and you give me the same
simple rhetoric.
HATE ME you BASTARD.
HATE ME YOU BASTARD!!
H A T E  M E!
CUZ I HATE YOU TOO!
Eff you.

I ain't giving you no more.
I have nothing to give.
is that what you wanted?
to take all that I could stand on?
all that was life,
and you wanted to take it from me?
WELL THEN,
YOU'RE Done.
Cuz I'm done.

I have no more love.
all i have is hate.
You want me to break?
give me your hate.
let me break.
MAKE ME BREAK!
ALL I WANT IS YOUR HATE.

KILL ME YOU BASTARD!

Four years of my life,
I try to dedicate,
but all you do is hate.
and for a while,
I could take your ish!
I could take your ish!

But you expect me
to keep fighting,
when I go no where.

Youlike my distress, huh?
I BET YOU DO.

IF you cared, you wouldn't hate,
so bad.
If that's love,
DON'T SHOW ME YOUR HATE.
You don't have to.

WHAT?
EFF YOU.

You want me to break?
WHY?
EFF IT.
Don't TELL ME.
IT's too LATE.

BRAKE.

- MARCH 9, 2000

See, the whole butt slapping thing has always been made fun of. But hey, on the field, it's completely non-sexual. It's just interesting that off the field, most guys are so homophobic.

Anyway, beyond that... isn't there some Macho Rule that guys are not supposed to exhibit emotion.. whereas guys are expected to be stoic? Yet, on the field, everything comes out - tear, cries, spit.

Too bad most of us don't try that hard to be passionate when it deals with the ladies huh? Shows you girls where you are on the priority scale. =P

Before I had a chance to leave, I found myself in the school supply section where I ran into journals. A few years ago, I concocted the inspiration to buy a notebook and fill it with poetry and various other (hopefully) interesting tidbits.

I've been relying on.. uh.. BLOGGER recently just because it's so much easier to update and I don't think I've had much BRAIN SEX shit to write about other than my gripes about love and whatnot. Just to remind you, please visit: Fingertip Aggression, it's a community blog. If you wanna join, EMAIL ME.

So you've missed conversations, realizations, rejections, confirmations, and a hazy reflection about my New Year's Eve at Las Vegas. Go to the blog. You can get mad with me.. and maybe fall in love. Hahaha. J/K.

I got to thinking about the next time we'd have that. It will be 2112. I'll be dead by then. That's what hit in my head. Kinda made me sad for a split second.

I remember one time when I was kid when I threw up right in the kitchen in front of my parents and an aunt or uncle. They asked me why I threw up. I told them I was thinking about how it be if I was dead. I think it scared me.

So now, I can throw up for the same topic, but not the same reason. I doubt I am scared to be dead... actually, I'd be scared of being a soul in limbo. I wouldn't want to know that I was dead. If there is reincarnation... just throw me right back into the game. I don't want any downtime. I'm afraid of being alone. I'm also afraid of not being a part of it all.

Sometimes I doubt how effectively I live my life. At times I ask myself to be free and just live. Other times I ask for direction and painstakingly beat myself up for such focus. I doubt either is the RIGHT way. They are just deviations in the journey, I suppose. Still, I can't help but be concerned over wasted time.

I've been beating myself up of and on for the past few weeks because of love. And I guess the life lesson I can take away from it is that I CAN love someone else. I haven't loved anyone like that in a few years. But with that break, I forgot the pain that goes along with love. It's sadistic.

I try to tell myself I'm not gonna play anymore, but as Nikki says... I am a hopeless romantic. And as everyone else says... I can not be someone who I am not. I was born to love one at a time, not collect many to play. I was born to be dedicated. I was born to be... sprung/whooped/stupid-crazy.

Because of that, I am often lonely or unsatisfied. It hurts to love.. to care.. to yearn.. to hope. But that's all I got.. and even though I try to stop, I can't. And even though I'm a man and I'm not "supposed" to cry, I want to... I just can't. And that hurts even more.

But is it all worth it in this game of life? I think so. I think my role is to be passionate with my craft, with my girl, with my life, with my spirituality, with my earth, WITH MY EXISTENCE. I can't half ass things, but again, high expectations present the deepest falls. I guess I just have to pick myself up, dust myself off, and not throw up. I got better things to do than worry about the end.

Situation 1: Abercrombie and Fitch

Now, I consider myself opinionated and political at times, but I never participated in the brigade against Gap and Nike and capitalistic clothing companies. Why not? Because if I were to boycott those shiesty companies for their shiesty practices, I would have to do it with almost every other piece of clothing out there. I don't give in necessarily.. it's just a stupid psuedo-effective protest for picketers and not logical society warriors. BUT, I did personally dislike A&F because they have consumers and a workforce compiled of a wide variety of ethnicities, yet all their ads on their walls are full of upperclass white kids. They don't even make an attempt to tokenize. Anyway, I try to stay away from them... plus their prices suck. BUT, they had a sale the other day and I bought two boxers. Harmless enough I hope.

Situation 2: Silver and Black