Short piece of fiction I wrote. Hope you all like ittt
I stared out the window on a hushed, Friday evening and sitting atop a portion of the dark sky like a lonely child was a full moon. The supermoon was today and it's not coming back until August of next year. Its white, spherical shape, shining brightly from above, watching the majority of us all in our deep sleeps. The clock read 4 am. The hour where the early birds got up from bed and the insomniacs remained awake. Now was I an insomniac? No. I got my sleep no matter what. I've pulled a couple all-nighters but it wasn't pleasant and I didn't want to even think about doing them consecutively. Now can I sleep right now? Yeah. I just didn't feel like sleeping just yet. Instead, I thought about the girl from college.
'Promise me you'll be like the moon. To be close, even if you are far away.'
I never went out of my way to contact her since we had our conversation at the campus deli back in May and now I realized that I missed seeing her. Hell she wouldn't be awake on a 4am, but I figured why not. She did have those moments where she stayed up all night. I thought I would give it a shot. Better than nothing, I told myself.
I called her. Took about 10 rings before she picked up her phone.
"Mhm, hullo~?"
Impressive.
"Hellooo?"
"It's me."
"... Ah, Sean," she mumbled something in between, words that I could not decipher. Possibly grunts, I couldn't tell.
"Calling me in the hushed AM hours... What gives. Cat got your tongue?" she said.
"Sleeping?"
"... Hell yes. What gives!"
"I never thought you'd pick up."
"... It's gotten into a habit. A bad habit don't you think?"
"At least it means people can rely on you when it comes to phone calls."
"Plus someone calling me on... 4:32 am... there's gotta be some urgent reason."
"Look out the window."
"Why what is there?"
"You'll see."
"... Making me open my blinds and shit. You're lucky my bed is right next to my window."
I gave a little smile but, seeing that emotions were unreadable through phone, I gave up.
Through the receiver I heard her raising the blinds. She let out a long yawn.
"All I see is darkness. Typical view, nothing changed."
"No moon?"
"Ah, is that the reason why you called?"
"It's beautiful."
"I bet it is."
I imagined her looking at the skies trying to find it.
"Wish you were able to see it."
"Hmm... Well I do live some miles away from you," she said. "I can't always see the things you see."
"The moon this weekend is closer to the earth so it's mo--"
"Hence the name super moon, I know, Sean. I've heard all about it," she laughed.
"I thought you'd know."
"I know things," she said. "Sucks that I haven't seen it yet. I want to see how super this moon really is."
I tried taking it from my camera but the quality turned out blurry. Looked more like a white, fuzzy flying saucer floating in a dark background.
"Say, how about we stare at the full moon together again sometime?" I suggested.
"Sounds like a plan. But we aren't night owls," she snickered. "I'd like for us to meet up during the daytime as well. We deserve to get some daylight too."
"And try to find the moon camouflaged amidst the clouds?"
"You lunatic."
I laughed. "Girl got the jokes."
"I'll be here all weekend. Not."
I was staring at the moon. A cloud ran over it for a brief second.
She sighed. "Listen, I appreciate you calling me, but I feel like I need to get back and get some sleep. Call me tomorrow."
"Alright. Sorry for disturbing your sleep. Sweet dreams."
"Litto Seanie also better hit the sack soon."
"I'm a grown man."
She laughed, then hung up. Silence enveloping me.
I jumped into bed but sleep wouldn't consume me. I closed my eyes, only opening them a few minutes later. I looked at the moon and there it still was. Hoping to get some fresh air and a better view of the moon, I changed into some chino shorts and the first tee I could find, and headed outside. I went to the nearest Family Mart to get a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of water, and plopped myself down the bench in the local playground. I lit a cigarette with the lighter and just as I was breathing out the smoke, I realized that something was missing. I looked everywhere, even walked a few blocks but nothing. I scoured the skies but all that was visible were the scattered stars. Just like that, the moon disappeared.
The streets were deserted, the shutters in the stores were long shut, and the resident's windows were all dark. All that resumed as normal as ever was the Family Mart and the drug store across the street. LED lights beaming the stores along with the high-tech surveillance cameras, not even the most sneakiest of burglars could get away with stealing something there. Cigarette still in hand, I froze in the middle of the street, perplexed at the fact that the moon had absolutely, undoubtedly vanished.
I went back to my room only to catch my eyes on something full, bright, and spherical. It was there. Just the way I saw it before. I rubbed my eyes and looked at it with more focus. Yep, that was the moon. Nothing but the moon. Couldn't be anything else. How odd. It was in that same exact position from where I was standing outside. I don't live that very high up so the angle wasn't the deal. I remained in my room, both of my eyes fixated on the moon like a security guard keeping a look out for something suspicious. Perhaps a cloud was covering the moon while I was outside.
Time passed, the clock struck 5:15, but the moon had not changed except its position. It very subtlety sunk but it was not impossible at all to be able to see this outside.
I went back down and searched the skies. But no good. A blank sheet of darkness with stars here and there. I walked ten blocks but no moon. All the while I was the only one in the streets. Early morning joggers and dog walkers would occasionally pass by, but that was all. Perhaps my mind was playing tricks on me and all I needed was some sleep, but the thought would always linger. Just where was the moon? It's there when I'm home. But how is it that it's not up there in space when I'm here in the sidewalk, outside? A garbage truck pulled over to the intersection as the handler chucked the pile of black bags full of trash littered on the edge of the sidewalk in the loading hopper. Seconds later, it took off. Everyone seemed to go about their normal routine schedules. Only I was probably the one noticing the oddity of the moon's behavior.
Giving up, I headed back home. The skies slowly grew brighter as the break of dawn started to arrive. I figured that all I needed was some sleep. I wanted to call her, but I held it until the next day. Right then I thought of something:
The moon could speak a thousand words but we all decide to ignore it.
It's something we see most of the time, and in fact, we see it so frequently that its presence is oftentimes nothing special. We'd just realize its bright appearance and continue to go about doing our duties. But sometimes, things that are ignored need some moments to stand out. Where its bright, shiny, spherical appearance just won't do. It could play tricks with you. Disappear in certain cases. Even seem closer than they really are. It could speak a thousand words. But we all decide to ignore it.
tkd
1Q84 World. 5/2015
Monday, June 24, 2013
Friday, June 21, 2013
A night full of disappointments
Congrats for the second straight, Heat. Thanks for letting us all watch a riveting series. I really wanted the Spurs to win but things always don't go the way they seem. Spurs needed game 6 but Heat stayed alive.
Meanwhile, Kim and Kanye have finally thought of a name for their newborn daughter. North West........ REALLY NOW? Poor, poor child. Is this some kind of joke.
Congrats for the second straight, Heat. Thanks for letting us all watch a riveting series. I really wanted the Spurs to win but things always don't go the way they seem. Spurs needed game 6 but Heat stayed alive.
Meanwhile, Kim and Kanye have finally thought of a name for their newborn daughter. North West........ REALLY NOW? Poor, poor child. Is this some kind of joke.
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
An Afternoon at the Lawn
I grabbed a newspaper and flipped over the news, eyeing articles that caught my fancy. Nothing that captivating, nothing eye-opening. Kim and Kanye having their first baby a month early, Rowhani becoming Iran's next hope, Putin allegedly stealing the Super Bowl ring, standardized tests going digital. Genius of Taylor Swift tweeting to the couple, I'm really happy for you but Beyonce had one of the best labors of all time.
And she's right.
Why is Kim even famous? She has neither any skill nor talent. Becoming famous for a sex tape... One of the lamest ways to become a celebrity. I'd be simply embarrassed. And out comes the entire family. Hey let's make a reality show together so that people can keep up with our daily lives!!
Seriously now? I'm sure nobody really gives a damn. And nobody even should. There's nothing to look up to them for.
Kanye I can understand. He raps for a living. Released albums that were actually decent. Don't know about this 'Yeezus' though. Should we go for it and judge an album by its cover?
I folded the newspaper in half and threw it aside the couch. Another sunny day full of sunshine. I changed into a tank with shorts, headed outside and went to the park. In the park was a large lawn where most locals and tourists can relax and enjoy the summer sun. I chose a random spot and lay down on my back. Shades on, I closed my eyes and took in the vitamin D hitting various parts of my skin. Tanning.
As soon as I shut my eyes sleep enveloped me, as if my mind was telling me to. Sprawling on the lawn never felt so comfortable until now, for some odd reason. I went into deep sleep as the birds hidden snugly in the bushes and trees melodiously chirped in harmony.
I didn't mean to sleep in the middle of the lawn, but I woke up about two hours later, wiping off the drool I made on my face. A nice little nap. I looked around and saw people having picnics, tossing a frisbee around, and reading books. Nothing changed, nothing happened. The same girl in a bikini who was adjacent to me was still engrossed in her book and the couple at a distance were still cuddling with each other. The only thing that changed was the position of the sun.
A little while's later someone came over towards my direction and plopped down next to me. He was wearing aviator sunglasses, a shrunken tee that was way too small for his size, and some baggy shorts. Perhaps a high school freshman.
"Hi," he began. "I'm a volunteer for a summer camp and I'm wondering if you have the time to answer a few questions. It's for the counselor's reference and your answers will remain anonymous."
Before I thought it over for a while my mouth opened and I said sure.
He flipped open his notebook and reviewed the questions. A sheen of sweat layered across his forehead and beads of them running along the back of his neck. Seemed like he also forgot to apply his deodorant. All the while he would wipe himself off with the sleeve of his tee. Right then it reminded me of the line from Rush Hour,
"Wipe yourself off, man," I'd throw him a towel. "You're [sweating]."
But seeing that I didn't even have a towel with me, and seeing that it was only for my own satisfaction, I said something else.
"Say, you look like you just came out of a sauna."
He looked up in my direction, blank. Then awkwardly smiled, his eyes visible through his sunglasses.
"I'm just doing my job," he said. "Though I gotta agree with you this weather is a hot one."
"Got a handkerchief?"
"Nah."
"Feel like you need one?"
"I got my shirt. No worries."
"Been running around or something?"
"Nope. Just walked many miles around the park asking people. Never thought walking alone would make me sweat so much."
I looked at his white shirt more closely. A huge dark spot in the center. "Yeah you'd sweat all right," I said. "Get any good results?"
He pressed against the bridge of his shades. "A few. Most declined, said they'd prefer not to."
"Who do they think they are? Bartleby?"
"Hunh?"
"Nah, forget it." There was a brief lull. He seemed to forget that he needed to ask me some questions. "But I get you," I continued. "I've been in your position before, asking people in the middle of street for their attention, handing them flyers. And rejection is something we gotta face. It's an inevitable thing that happens. From Lebron James's blocks to attempting to ask the hottest girl in school to prom, rejection is everywhere. Nothing is perfect in the world."
He froze, seeming to take in my lame words of wisdom. "At least you have my attention."
"That, is true."
There was another pause. "Can I ask now?"
"My apologies for speaking too much. Took too much of your time."
"It's not a problem."
And thus he began.
"What's your favorite genre of music?"
"I like everything. But if had to say what genre I listen to most it has to be hip-hop/rap."
He stared at me for a couple of seconds, nodded, and jotted it down on his notebook.
He cleared his throat and resumed. "Have you attended a summer camp before, and if so, what were the activities you partook in?"
"Sports, arts and crafts, playing games."
The wind flipped the page on his notebook but he turned it back and used his left hand as the paperweight.
"What were some of the values you had when attending summer camp?"
"Making friends and having a good time and staying healthy."
"That's all," he said, shutting the notebook. "Just curious, what grade are you in?"
"2nd year college student. Yourself?"
"I'm on my way to high school."
Knew it. "Got a best subject?"
"Math."
"Top in your class?"
"Can't say I am."
"Just remember, man, it's not up to the teacher to teach you everything. You know those students who say, 'this teacher didn't teach me anything at all!' or 'All I learned from this class was...' yada yada?"
He nodded.
"Well it's their fault. They are misunderstanding the entire concept of education. You gotta teach stuff yourself too. Buy textbooks on your own, research things on the internet. Teachers can't go over entire subjects all in a matter of, what, nine months? Don't rely absolutely everything on your teacher. Give them a break. Make the effort to study things on your own for once. It's a useful thing to do when you go to college. In addition to the teacher teaching you the subject, you yourself should also be the teacher teaching things. It'll truly reinforce your knowledge. Get my drift?"
He thought about it for a while, sinking in what I said word after word. Then responded, "But having a good teacher really helps you define whether or not you like that subject. A good teacher is crucial."
I smiled and nodded. "Based on my understanding, teachers are there to introduce you to that subject material. But trust me no matter what school you go to they will try to spice up things and make the subject interesting. Since you are in high school the teachers aren't going to teach the most advanced concepts or the most difficult theories and ideas or whatever. I mean, that's what college is for. Quantum physics my ass. It's up to you to teach those additional things yourself. Don't get me wrong, teachers are there to help you and you should definitely consult them first, but I'm just saying that it also helps to study on your own."
He nodded. "So in other words, I should become a nerd."
"You're not a nerd unless you say you are."
"What if other people say I am?"
"You play a sport or something?"
"Soccer."
"Problem solved," I said. "Nerds are people who only and I mean only invest their time studying. If you're a versatile type of guy who not only is smart but is also athletic and is social, you aren't a nerd, and nobody would assume that you are one either."
"You seem like a smart guy."
"Nah, just a college student lolling in the park," I laughed.
Anyways, thanks for your time, and he put his notebook back in his knapsack, and, before he took off, noticed my opened book and asked me what I was reading.
"Stendhal."
Nodding, seeming disinterested, he took off.
I folded the newspaper in half and threw it aside the couch. Another sunny day full of sunshine. I changed into a tank with shorts, headed outside and went to the park. In the park was a large lawn where most locals and tourists can relax and enjoy the summer sun. I chose a random spot and lay down on my back. Shades on, I closed my eyes and took in the vitamin D hitting various parts of my skin. Tanning.
As soon as I shut my eyes sleep enveloped me, as if my mind was telling me to. Sprawling on the lawn never felt so comfortable until now, for some odd reason. I went into deep sleep as the birds hidden snugly in the bushes and trees melodiously chirped in harmony.
I didn't mean to sleep in the middle of the lawn, but I woke up about two hours later, wiping off the drool I made on my face. A nice little nap. I looked around and saw people having picnics, tossing a frisbee around, and reading books. Nothing changed, nothing happened. The same girl in a bikini who was adjacent to me was still engrossed in her book and the couple at a distance were still cuddling with each other. The only thing that changed was the position of the sun.
A little while's later someone came over towards my direction and plopped down next to me. He was wearing aviator sunglasses, a shrunken tee that was way too small for his size, and some baggy shorts. Perhaps a high school freshman.
"Hi," he began. "I'm a volunteer for a summer camp and I'm wondering if you have the time to answer a few questions. It's for the counselor's reference and your answers will remain anonymous."
Before I thought it over for a while my mouth opened and I said sure.
He flipped open his notebook and reviewed the questions. A sheen of sweat layered across his forehead and beads of them running along the back of his neck. Seemed like he also forgot to apply his deodorant. All the while he would wipe himself off with the sleeve of his tee. Right then it reminded me of the line from Rush Hour,
"Wipe yourself off, man," I'd throw him a towel. "You're [sweating]."
But seeing that I didn't even have a towel with me, and seeing that it was only for my own satisfaction, I said something else.
"Say, you look like you just came out of a sauna."
He looked up in my direction, blank. Then awkwardly smiled, his eyes visible through his sunglasses.
"I'm just doing my job," he said. "Though I gotta agree with you this weather is a hot one."
"Got a handkerchief?"
"Nah."
"Feel like you need one?"
"I got my shirt. No worries."
"Been running around or something?"
"Nope. Just walked many miles around the park asking people. Never thought walking alone would make me sweat so much."
I looked at his white shirt more closely. A huge dark spot in the center. "Yeah you'd sweat all right," I said. "Get any good results?"
He pressed against the bridge of his shades. "A few. Most declined, said they'd prefer not to."
"Who do they think they are? Bartleby?"
"Hunh?"
"Nah, forget it." There was a brief lull. He seemed to forget that he needed to ask me some questions. "But I get you," I continued. "I've been in your position before, asking people in the middle of street for their attention, handing them flyers. And rejection is something we gotta face. It's an inevitable thing that happens. From Lebron James's blocks to attempting to ask the hottest girl in school to prom, rejection is everywhere. Nothing is perfect in the world."
He froze, seeming to take in my lame words of wisdom. "At least you have my attention."
"That, is true."
There was another pause. "Can I ask now?"
"My apologies for speaking too much. Took too much of your time."
"It's not a problem."
And thus he began.
"What's your favorite genre of music?"
"I like everything. But if had to say what genre I listen to most it has to be hip-hop/rap."
He stared at me for a couple of seconds, nodded, and jotted it down on his notebook.
He cleared his throat and resumed. "Have you attended a summer camp before, and if so, what were the activities you partook in?"
"Sports, arts and crafts, playing games."
The wind flipped the page on his notebook but he turned it back and used his left hand as the paperweight.
"What were some of the values you had when attending summer camp?"
"Making friends and having a good time and staying healthy."
"That's all," he said, shutting the notebook. "Just curious, what grade are you in?"
"2nd year college student. Yourself?"
"I'm on my way to high school."
Knew it. "Got a best subject?"
"Math."
"Top in your class?"
"Can't say I am."
"Just remember, man, it's not up to the teacher to teach you everything. You know those students who say, 'this teacher didn't teach me anything at all!' or 'All I learned from this class was...' yada yada?"
He nodded.
"Well it's their fault. They are misunderstanding the entire concept of education. You gotta teach stuff yourself too. Buy textbooks on your own, research things on the internet. Teachers can't go over entire subjects all in a matter of, what, nine months? Don't rely absolutely everything on your teacher. Give them a break. Make the effort to study things on your own for once. It's a useful thing to do when you go to college. In addition to the teacher teaching you the subject, you yourself should also be the teacher teaching things. It'll truly reinforce your knowledge. Get my drift?"
He thought about it for a while, sinking in what I said word after word. Then responded, "But having a good teacher really helps you define whether or not you like that subject. A good teacher is crucial."
I smiled and nodded. "Based on my understanding, teachers are there to introduce you to that subject material. But trust me no matter what school you go to they will try to spice up things and make the subject interesting. Since you are in high school the teachers aren't going to teach the most advanced concepts or the most difficult theories and ideas or whatever. I mean, that's what college is for. Quantum physics my ass. It's up to you to teach those additional things yourself. Don't get me wrong, teachers are there to help you and you should definitely consult them first, but I'm just saying that it also helps to study on your own."
He nodded. "So in other words, I should become a nerd."
"You're not a nerd unless you say you are."
"What if other people say I am?"
"You play a sport or something?"
"Soccer."
"Problem solved," I said. "Nerds are people who only and I mean only invest their time studying. If you're a versatile type of guy who not only is smart but is also athletic and is social, you aren't a nerd, and nobody would assume that you are one either."
"You seem like a smart guy."
"Nah, just a college student lolling in the park," I laughed.
Anyways, thanks for your time, and he put his notebook back in his knapsack, and, before he took off, noticed my opened book and asked me what I was reading.
"Stendhal."
Nodding, seeming disinterested, he took off.
Sunday, June 16, 2013
From Monster's Inc to Monster's University-- Consideration Towards Our Generation
"Monster's Inc." hit the theaters in 2001. Fast forward to 2013. Most of the kids from 2001 who have watched "Monster's Inc" are now pretty much in college, or, at least in that age range. Out comes "Monster's University", the prequel to the "Monster's Inc." we know, and, at the same time, the sequel to our generation. A genius move here by Pixar.
In theaters this Friday. Can't wait.
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Do what you love and don't dwell on past regrets
Dream on, as they all say.
I was a leader for some organization, exactly what god only knows. I made a woman angry and she shortly sent all her infantrymen in suits to get a hold of me. I ran away as fast I could and found a hiding spot under a street. The spot was so small that I didn't even know how I got under there. One of my sidekicks suggested we go under and we did. We both crouched down, our knees pulled up to our chests, embryonic amid darkness. We hid there until her infantrymen gave up. One of them however, bent down and seemed to recognize us but he never did anything. He just stared at us, or maybe even the darkness. But we were still crouched.
Then I woke up.
It was a rainy day here. Not even a hint of the sun was visible in the sky. Just drips of raindrops and gray skies. As usual I had my breakfast and did my typical duties. Another monotonous day with rain on the side. Bleh. Paradise lost.
My cell rang. Just who could it be. It was from a girl that I barely knew and I'm sure she thought the same of me.
"Hi, uhh," there was a pause. "Where am I right now?"
My expression was a blank. For a second my mouth didn't cooperate with my reactions. It was its own separate part doing its own separate thing. What was this girl saying?
"I beg your pardon?"
"Where am I."
"Where are you...?"
"Yes, where am I?"
This girl wasn't your typical teenage girl. I met her in college and all the time she was a quiet one who only talked when she absolutely needed to. Often wore simple clothes, never wore dresses, and instead of guys, she was fond of kittens. We exchanged numbers only because we were in a group together and we needed some way to communicate with each other. Why on earth would she call me now... and why me?
"I... don't know..." I said.
"I need to know because I have a meeting in twenty minutes and I'm wondering where I am," she spoke each word very carefully and clearly, as if she was one of those automated announcers you'd hear in the subway.
"Is there a reason you're asking me about this?"
No answer.
I gave up. "Well are you even in America?"
"Yes."
"Isn't there a sign that tells you where you are? Pull out your phone and open up maps. Ask a passerby for god sakes."
"I'd rather not. I want you to tell me."
I was perplexed... nonplussed... All the words that literally described confused. We barely talked to each other during college and it was utterly random for her to call me on a rainy, gloomy day like this.
"How did you even schedule this meeting of yours? Can't one of the people you're having a meeting with help you out? Do you have their number?"
Silence.
"Describe what you see around you," I had to do it.
She took her time, probably observing her surroundings. "Cars, trees, roads..."
"Okay you need to be a little more specific than that. That could be anywhere."
She signed. Then another long pause. So long that what I had just said seemed like something I said days ago. "I see a huge electronic store in front of me and people walking with umbrellas."
Now I signed. At least she was somewhere close. I was this close to hanging up the phone until she blurted,
"Oh I figured it out."
The line cut. No goodbye, just an abrupt
KCHICK.
My cellphone was still against my ear. I heard nothing but silence. What the hell was that all about, I said to myself over and over. Such an odd way to start off a day. Where am I? Oh I figured it out!
KCHICK!
A waste of my time and her's.
More and more I've been thinking about cars. Since I was a child I have been a huge fan of them. Used to collect toy Tomica cars, die-cast cars, you name 'em. I still have a bucket full of them somewhere in my room. Now that I'm legal enough to drive I think about the real cars. Cars that I can actually fit in, ignite the engine, and drive. After watching Fast 6 I thought more about cars.
I pulled out the sequel, Tokyo Drift and watched it twice. An action packed movie. I became a fan of the Mazda RX7. No way I'd be able to get that Veilside kit.
The rain abated. I opened a window and out came the scent of wet air. Being alone was something I needed to stop investing in my personal, human capital. Each day would pass as if cars were outrunning me in an expressway. There I was walking in the narrow edge of the road, walking while the cars endlessly zoomed right past me. Most of my friends were spending time with their girlfriends and boyfriends, graduating, and enjoying their time at prom.
"What have you been doing for the past weeks?" My friend asked as we were sitting at a cafe. I called her up and luckily she had some time to squeeze me in somewhere for a quick lunch in her schedule. Her summer job was at a local hospital somewhere downtown.
"Not the greatest," I spoke. "Writing stories, reading, jogging, taking strolls, and working out at my local dojang."
"Sounds like a lame summer so far," she laughed.
"It's getting there," I didn't know what to say.
She took a sip of her chai latte and stared at the passing scenery outside. Gazing almost at something far beyond her view. She looked back in my direction seconds later. She was wearing tight jeans shorts, a white tank top with a loose, white cardigan. Her black, silky hair was tied into a bun.
"Forgive me for being so out of the blue here, but what's your motto," she said. "I'm just curious. Do you have one?"
"Do what you love and don't dwell on past regrets," I made it up just for this moment but that's basically how I lived by.
She repeated my motto and thought about it while running her index finger around the rim of her latte. It took me a while before I noticed that the ice in my coffee was melting and that I barely took a sip from it.
"I like that. Simple and true. It reminds me of working in the hospital," she said. "You know working here isn't all that straightforward and easy. It takes dedication, patience, and determination. You gotta be fearless. It's a place where we save lives! A place where births and deaths occur, a place where a lot of emotions are expressed. We're dealing with some serious business here. Just because I'm one of the many interns here doesn't mean that I don't feel like a doctor. Being here gives me the feeling that I'm responsible. Gotta handle tasks, gotta save lives, heal the wounded! Now of course I don't have the right to do that and all I basically do is handle databases and organize paperwork, but you get in that mindset, you know?"
I nodded, took slow sips of my ice-melted coffee and waited for her to continue.
"It's a demanding task to see injured patients run in and out from the hospital and see them in stretchers with Oxygen masks. Ambulance sirens coming from a distance, the smell of that linoleum flooring. But that's what a hospital is. And that's what I'm interested in. Saving lives, healing people, making them feel better more and more. That's why I'm interning here. Seeing what's it's like interests me. I'm doing what I love and not dwelling on past regrets."
"Did you have something else you wanted to do before studying pre-med?" I asked.
"I was pretty fond of philosophy. I had a liking for Nietzsche, Plato, and Aristotle. Even Benedict de Spinoza. My interest in their works grew rapidly over time. So much that I spent my time holed up in my room for days reading and studying their ideas. My parents were concerned that I was sick or that there was something wrong, but I told them I was fine. Just indulging in some philosophy. But by the end of junior year in high school I got interested in pre-med, not because all of my friends were thinking about it, but because I was personally interested. The very nature of healing the human body and learning all about it alone got me. I'm not those people who jump on the bandwagon and major in something just because it's the most versatile or because everyone else does it. Deep down there has got to be something else that you're passionate about. And that's the most important thing, I believe. Have you're own morals and study what you love, just like you mentioned, Sean. I turned down becoming a philosopher and decided to go doctor."
"That's a great way to go," I told her.
"I'm glad you concur with my decisions. I guess I'm going to have to steal your motto and make it mine as well," she smiled and then, seconds later, broke into a cheerful laugh.
"Get your own!" I teased.
"Oh please, it's a freaking motto. Besides I didn't have one. If I was forced to have one it would've been You Only Live Once," she raised both hands in the air and rolled her eyes.
We shared laughs.
She eventually scurried back to the hospital while I went back to aimlessly strolling around town. I had on some shorts, a striped shirt, and a pair of Vans. Your typical skateboarder look. Sunglasses on, I went to the electronic store to try to get my hands on the latest Animal Crossing game. Sold out, I headed back out and made a pit stop at a nearby fast food restaurant and bought some hot dogs. Pina Colada to wash it down. I sat down on a bench near the subway station munching away while blankly staring at the passersby coming back from work. A crowd of them would walk out from the station every second, the high heels from the women clicking against the asphalt. Somewhere there was jazz music playing as it echoed throughout the station plaza. Across from me there was a woman with her legs in a pretzel position intently listening to her music, and a guy in a power suit casually talking to someone on the phone with a leather filecase clutched in his arm. The rest were sitting like me, taking a rest in the evening rush hour. People who, seemed as if they didn't want to go home just yet. There I started to hum, out of nowhere, Kendrick's 'Cups'. It was on the radio and the melody must have gotten in my head.
I worked out at the dojang in the evening with some athletes. Partnered up with a third degree black belt as we alternated kicking drills and combinations on the pads. A good way to let out the stress, I figured all the time. Turning kicks, double kicks, narabams, double kick spinning hook, para chagi, back kicks, cut kicks, all of them. Trained until my dobak and shirt were drenched in sweat. Among us in the dojang were elite athletes, one of which was seeded.
I went home and took a long shower. Changed into some nice sleepwear and lay down on the sofa, my hands behind my head, gazing at the bare ceiling. Sometimes, that's the only thing I can do.
I was a leader for some organization, exactly what god only knows. I made a woman angry and she shortly sent all her infantrymen in suits to get a hold of me. I ran away as fast I could and found a hiding spot under a street. The spot was so small that I didn't even know how I got under there. One of my sidekicks suggested we go under and we did. We both crouched down, our knees pulled up to our chests, embryonic amid darkness. We hid there until her infantrymen gave up. One of them however, bent down and seemed to recognize us but he never did anything. He just stared at us, or maybe even the darkness. But we were still crouched.
Then I woke up.
It was a rainy day here. Not even a hint of the sun was visible in the sky. Just drips of raindrops and gray skies. As usual I had my breakfast and did my typical duties. Another monotonous day with rain on the side. Bleh. Paradise lost.
My cell rang. Just who could it be. It was from a girl that I barely knew and I'm sure she thought the same of me.
"Hi, uhh," there was a pause. "Where am I right now?"
My expression was a blank. For a second my mouth didn't cooperate with my reactions. It was its own separate part doing its own separate thing. What was this girl saying?
"I beg your pardon?"
"Where am I."
"Where are you...?"
"Yes, where am I?"
This girl wasn't your typical teenage girl. I met her in college and all the time she was a quiet one who only talked when she absolutely needed to. Often wore simple clothes, never wore dresses, and instead of guys, she was fond of kittens. We exchanged numbers only because we were in a group together and we needed some way to communicate with each other. Why on earth would she call me now... and why me?
"I... don't know..." I said.
"I need to know because I have a meeting in twenty minutes and I'm wondering where I am," she spoke each word very carefully and clearly, as if she was one of those automated announcers you'd hear in the subway.
"Is there a reason you're asking me about this?"
No answer.
I gave up. "Well are you even in America?"
"Yes."
"Isn't there a sign that tells you where you are? Pull out your phone and open up maps. Ask a passerby for god sakes."
"I'd rather not. I want you to tell me."
I was perplexed... nonplussed... All the words that literally described confused. We barely talked to each other during college and it was utterly random for her to call me on a rainy, gloomy day like this.
"How did you even schedule this meeting of yours? Can't one of the people you're having a meeting with help you out? Do you have their number?"
Silence.
"Describe what you see around you," I had to do it.
She took her time, probably observing her surroundings. "Cars, trees, roads..."
"Okay you need to be a little more specific than that. That could be anywhere."
She signed. Then another long pause. So long that what I had just said seemed like something I said days ago. "I see a huge electronic store in front of me and people walking with umbrellas."
Now I signed. At least she was somewhere close. I was this close to hanging up the phone until she blurted,
"Oh I figured it out."
The line cut. No goodbye, just an abrupt
KCHICK.
My cellphone was still against my ear. I heard nothing but silence. What the hell was that all about, I said to myself over and over. Such an odd way to start off a day. Where am I? Oh I figured it out!
KCHICK!
A waste of my time and her's.
More and more I've been thinking about cars. Since I was a child I have been a huge fan of them. Used to collect toy Tomica cars, die-cast cars, you name 'em. I still have a bucket full of them somewhere in my room. Now that I'm legal enough to drive I think about the real cars. Cars that I can actually fit in, ignite the engine, and drive. After watching Fast 6 I thought more about cars.
I pulled out the sequel, Tokyo Drift and watched it twice. An action packed movie. I became a fan of the Mazda RX7. No way I'd be able to get that Veilside kit.
The rain abated. I opened a window and out came the scent of wet air. Being alone was something I needed to stop investing in my personal, human capital. Each day would pass as if cars were outrunning me in an expressway. There I was walking in the narrow edge of the road, walking while the cars endlessly zoomed right past me. Most of my friends were spending time with their girlfriends and boyfriends, graduating, and enjoying their time at prom.
"What have you been doing for the past weeks?" My friend asked as we were sitting at a cafe. I called her up and luckily she had some time to squeeze me in somewhere for a quick lunch in her schedule. Her summer job was at a local hospital somewhere downtown.
"Not the greatest," I spoke. "Writing stories, reading, jogging, taking strolls, and working out at my local dojang."
"Sounds like a lame summer so far," she laughed.
"It's getting there," I didn't know what to say.
She took a sip of her chai latte and stared at the passing scenery outside. Gazing almost at something far beyond her view. She looked back in my direction seconds later. She was wearing tight jeans shorts, a white tank top with a loose, white cardigan. Her black, silky hair was tied into a bun.
"Forgive me for being so out of the blue here, but what's your motto," she said. "I'm just curious. Do you have one?"
"Do what you love and don't dwell on past regrets," I made it up just for this moment but that's basically how I lived by.
She repeated my motto and thought about it while running her index finger around the rim of her latte. It took me a while before I noticed that the ice in my coffee was melting and that I barely took a sip from it.
"I like that. Simple and true. It reminds me of working in the hospital," she said. "You know working here isn't all that straightforward and easy. It takes dedication, patience, and determination. You gotta be fearless. It's a place where we save lives! A place where births and deaths occur, a place where a lot of emotions are expressed. We're dealing with some serious business here. Just because I'm one of the many interns here doesn't mean that I don't feel like a doctor. Being here gives me the feeling that I'm responsible. Gotta handle tasks, gotta save lives, heal the wounded! Now of course I don't have the right to do that and all I basically do is handle databases and organize paperwork, but you get in that mindset, you know?"
I nodded, took slow sips of my ice-melted coffee and waited for her to continue.
"It's a demanding task to see injured patients run in and out from the hospital and see them in stretchers with Oxygen masks. Ambulance sirens coming from a distance, the smell of that linoleum flooring. But that's what a hospital is. And that's what I'm interested in. Saving lives, healing people, making them feel better more and more. That's why I'm interning here. Seeing what's it's like interests me. I'm doing what I love and not dwelling on past regrets."
"Did you have something else you wanted to do before studying pre-med?" I asked.
"I was pretty fond of philosophy. I had a liking for Nietzsche, Plato, and Aristotle. Even Benedict de Spinoza. My interest in their works grew rapidly over time. So much that I spent my time holed up in my room for days reading and studying their ideas. My parents were concerned that I was sick or that there was something wrong, but I told them I was fine. Just indulging in some philosophy. But by the end of junior year in high school I got interested in pre-med, not because all of my friends were thinking about it, but because I was personally interested. The very nature of healing the human body and learning all about it alone got me. I'm not those people who jump on the bandwagon and major in something just because it's the most versatile or because everyone else does it. Deep down there has got to be something else that you're passionate about. And that's the most important thing, I believe. Have you're own morals and study what you love, just like you mentioned, Sean. I turned down becoming a philosopher and decided to go doctor."
"That's a great way to go," I told her.
"I'm glad you concur with my decisions. I guess I'm going to have to steal your motto and make it mine as well," she smiled and then, seconds later, broke into a cheerful laugh.
"Get your own!" I teased.
"Oh please, it's a freaking motto. Besides I didn't have one. If I was forced to have one it would've been You Only Live Once," she raised both hands in the air and rolled her eyes.
We shared laughs.
She eventually scurried back to the hospital while I went back to aimlessly strolling around town. I had on some shorts, a striped shirt, and a pair of Vans. Your typical skateboarder look. Sunglasses on, I went to the electronic store to try to get my hands on the latest Animal Crossing game. Sold out, I headed back out and made a pit stop at a nearby fast food restaurant and bought some hot dogs. Pina Colada to wash it down. I sat down on a bench near the subway station munching away while blankly staring at the passersby coming back from work. A crowd of them would walk out from the station every second, the high heels from the women clicking against the asphalt. Somewhere there was jazz music playing as it echoed throughout the station plaza. Across from me there was a woman with her legs in a pretzel position intently listening to her music, and a guy in a power suit casually talking to someone on the phone with a leather filecase clutched in his arm. The rest were sitting like me, taking a rest in the evening rush hour. People who, seemed as if they didn't want to go home just yet. There I started to hum, out of nowhere, Kendrick's 'Cups'. It was on the radio and the melody must have gotten in my head.
I worked out at the dojang in the evening with some athletes. Partnered up with a third degree black belt as we alternated kicking drills and combinations on the pads. A good way to let out the stress, I figured all the time. Turning kicks, double kicks, narabams, double kick spinning hook, para chagi, back kicks, cut kicks, all of them. Trained until my dobak and shirt were drenched in sweat. Among us in the dojang were elite athletes, one of which was seeded.
I went home and took a long shower. Changed into some nice sleepwear and lay down on the sofa, my hands behind my head, gazing at the bare ceiling. Sometimes, that's the only thing I can do.
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
Summer is Nigh
June has arrived and the weather is getting hotter by the day. Fans just won't do. It's time that I break in the AC that I haven't turned on since last summer. Staying indoors when the sun reaches its zenith is the worst as the room will turn into a sauna as the heat goes through the windows and lingers. I feel a warm sensation. I slowly open my eyes as beads of sweat drip down my face and along my back. The first thing I notice was the fact that I was wrapped up in my quilt and sheets. Why, I had no idea. There's something about sleeping without covering the bottom half of my body. Exposing my legs in the middle of the night doesn't feel... natural. Guess I was too out of consciousness to catch that I was sweating. But anyways, I immediately shove my sheets and quilt aside and take a look at the clock. 1:15 on the dot. Realizing that both the AC and the fan were not on, I get up and turn their switches, take a swig of lukewarm water, and crack open a window to get some fresh air. Summer has come, hunh, I say, the back of my shirt pretty much drenched in sweat.
Waking up around the afternoon is not the greatest habit. Everything gets delayed, from breakfast to hygiene and I'd suddenly feel as if I've wasted so much time. A what-the-hell-am-doing feeling. I'd look out the window and see pedestrians and cars and take a look at my view: the buildings, the sky, the clouds. A hazy day. Just looking outside reminds me that there are countless things to do and so many things going on. And where am I? In my sweated shorts and bed shirt staring out my window in a room with sauna-like temperatures.
While eating a late breakfast, summer days from last year slowly starts to shoot back in my memory as if it was hidden, stored somewhere at first but then rose up and became the main thing to think about. Just like Madison Square Garden and its multiple sports platforms. The summer platform was underground in my consciousness, stored somewhere deep until it was finally time to rise and let the winter platform take a rest. Bringing out the shorts, the scent of sunscreen applied on the skin, tanning at the beach, the cry of cicadas, the thunderstorms at night, and the increasing number of mosquito bites on my body. That summer feeling where we travel and dress light, kick back with your friends and gulp down a can of beer as we enjoy that summer breeze and not care about a thing.
I change into a simple gray v-neck tee, a pair of beige shorts, and flip flops and head out for a little aimless stroll. It was the weekend thus the overall pace of everything was slightly slower than the weekdays. I put on my sunglasses and continue to walk around the neighborhood, having absolutely no idea where I was to go. Sharing the street was a dog owner doing his thing, a father with his son about to play catch at the park, two well dressed college girls endlessly having a conversation back and forth, and a man with a shaven head speed-walking in running attire. As the sun beams its energy full on, I start to sweat again. I head to the nearest Starbucks to get a frappuccino and sit down for a couple of minutes recovering from the intense heat. Much hotter than I expected, I think to myself. Norah Jones is playing as the background music while the sound of the coffee blender chimes in every now and then. Memories from last year suddenly revolve around my mind and would continue to roam as naturally as ever. That time, I invested in my human capital helping out for a congresswoman at a campaign office and met dozens of friends. Registering voters, canvassing, phone-banking, and taping posters. Engaging in a summer fling, hanging out until the wee hours of the morning and getting scolded by my mom. Those were the days.
After successfully helping out at the campaign office I've gotten several calls and emails from other campaign and assembly offices. One of which consisted of the same office workers and some old volunteers I knew.
'If you want to get a great summer experience, please consider helping ________ reach his candidacy!!' It read.
My friend and I were on the phone once.
"Are you going to work for this guy?" she said.
"I don't know," I said. "If I have time, and can actually get a reasonable position."
"Ohh, ok. Because I got a call from them and they wanted my help."
"They say that to almost everyone."
The sound of her fingernails were hitting against the receiver. "Well yeah."
"Anyway tell me if you are. It'd be nice to work with you again," I said.
"Alright."
Then she hung up.
The thing is, politics is not really my thing. Sure it's an interesting and engaging topic but did I want to become a potential politician? No, although I could manage it if someone were to force me to and there was nothing else in the world I could do. But that isn't the way to go in life and thus I figured that I'd stay away from the field as far as possible. Typically whenever I heard or read the word, 'politics' I'd always let that word sink away and vanish. It was the subject that I was least interested in, and something that I'd only give in whenever it was absolutely necessary. But then again I'd always think about a conversation I had with a friend:
"You know, Sean," he said. "You have this habit of yours."
With a slight nod, I let him continue.
"It's like, you don't let out your true powers unless you need to."
"Unless I need to?"
"Yeah," he said. "During cross country practice you'd always jog and seem like you gave the least amount of your effort but then a meet comes and you dash away from the start. I've never seen you run that fast before. Didn't know you had that in you."
"I guess I should've caught that before."
"Guess so," he remarked. "And can I tell you something about that?"
"Fire away."
"It might actually make you feel bad."
"That's okay."
"A plant can't grow and stay healthy without its owner feeding water everyday. It's all about that consistency. Every effort you make won't be a waste. You follow where I'm getting at?"
"I think so. That boredom is inevitable?"
"Bingo," he shouted. "No matter how boring something is, you gotta do it in order to gain some improvement and knowledge. And don't think it's useless. It works. Doing what you're doing only produces, although you might not think it, results in limited fashion. Run like you mean it during practice. You'd be able to run faster that you ever will during the meets."
He patted my shoulder, we did our handshake, and he skated off in the streets.
Yeah, that conversation. That boredom was inevitable. I knew that, but I already experienced what it was like working at a campaign office. I have tried and I have experienced what it was like in the field of politics. There was more for me to do out there in the world. I just knew it.
I needed some time to think and refresh myself. I head out of Starbucks and walk my way over to the movie theaters. What's wrong with a movie? I thought to myself. With nothing really much to do in this hour I decide to watch one by my lonesome. Something I didn't really do, but figured why not. I thought of Tom from the Glass Menagerie, endlessly watching movies by himself. What's wrong with that?
The Great Gatsby or Fast 6. I was to see one of them. Feeling for some action I go for Fast 6. The theater is close to deserted, the employees as if off-duty. I buy a medium bag of popcorn and a Coke for the beverage, head to a seat, and munch down the popcorn. Commercials currently were running on the screen as there were a decent number of people. An elderly couple, which kind of struck me as odd at first, a pair of teenagers, who, seemed like they were siblings, a man who seemed like a movie critic or some journalist, among others. Uninterested that much on the audience I blankly stare at the advertisements and await for the fast, action packed film to begin.
The movie ends, and I sit there, figuring out that it all made sense. Justin Lin did a great job connecting this movie to the sequel. I exit the theater and the first thing I notice is how slow the taxi cabs and other cars are going. That's when I thought to myself... that just like the when the audience were jumping, kicking, punching, and flicking their imaginary nunchakus after watching a Bruce Lee movie, watching Fast 6 made me want to drive past the speed limit and drift on every corner of the road. Hell that would be illegal but I just took some time to imagine. One of the lines that got me,
"They got a tank!"
It blasts out from an oversized truck and chases after the cars on an expressway. Nothing but pure entertainment and action. Thank god for fast cars!
They got a tank!
I went back home and read for a couple of hours. The afterglow of Fast 6 rushes back into my head every now and then. I shut the book, take a look outside as the sun was slowly sinking down the horizon. I go out for a light jog.
Black Adidas, pants, and a pair of Nike's. With my all-black attire and, once again, Daft Punk songs flowing in my ears, I run around the track outside. I pass some runners, and get passed by them. One of them I recognize from last year. Still keeping it up, now that's dedication. Halfway through the track I slow down. Where is my stamina, I ponder. I make a couple stops as I breathe heavily. Damn it.
I come home, take a shower, and eat dinner with my mom. In random moments I pretend I'm driving a manual transmission as I push the imaginary clutch, shift the imaginary stick shift, press on the imaginary axel, and grip on the imaginary steering wheel.
"How was the movie?" she says, laughing.
"It was awesome. I definitely recommend it."
She nods.
I pretend I'm drifting.
"Stop it," she says. "Eat your food."
Itadakimasu~~
I needed some time to think and refresh myself. I head out of Starbucks and walk my way over to the movie theaters. What's wrong with a movie? I thought to myself. With nothing really much to do in this hour I decide to watch one by my lonesome. Something I didn't really do, but figured why not. I thought of Tom from the Glass Menagerie, endlessly watching movies by himself. What's wrong with that?
The Great Gatsby or Fast 6. I was to see one of them. Feeling for some action I go for Fast 6. The theater is close to deserted, the employees as if off-duty. I buy a medium bag of popcorn and a Coke for the beverage, head to a seat, and munch down the popcorn. Commercials currently were running on the screen as there were a decent number of people. An elderly couple, which kind of struck me as odd at first, a pair of teenagers, who, seemed like they were siblings, a man who seemed like a movie critic or some journalist, among others. Uninterested that much on the audience I blankly stare at the advertisements and await for the fast, action packed film to begin.
The movie ends, and I sit there, figuring out that it all made sense. Justin Lin did a great job connecting this movie to the sequel. I exit the theater and the first thing I notice is how slow the taxi cabs and other cars are going. That's when I thought to myself... that just like the when the audience were jumping, kicking, punching, and flicking their imaginary nunchakus after watching a Bruce Lee movie, watching Fast 6 made me want to drive past the speed limit and drift on every corner of the road. Hell that would be illegal but I just took some time to imagine. One of the lines that got me,
"They got a tank!"
It blasts out from an oversized truck and chases after the cars on an expressway. Nothing but pure entertainment and action. Thank god for fast cars!
They got a tank!
I went back home and read for a couple of hours. The afterglow of Fast 6 rushes back into my head every now and then. I shut the book, take a look outside as the sun was slowly sinking down the horizon. I go out for a light jog.
Black Adidas, pants, and a pair of Nike's. With my all-black attire and, once again, Daft Punk songs flowing in my ears, I run around the track outside. I pass some runners, and get passed by them. One of them I recognize from last year. Still keeping it up, now that's dedication. Halfway through the track I slow down. Where is my stamina, I ponder. I make a couple stops as I breathe heavily. Damn it.
I come home, take a shower, and eat dinner with my mom. In random moments I pretend I'm driving a manual transmission as I push the imaginary clutch, shift the imaginary stick shift, press on the imaginary axel, and grip on the imaginary steering wheel.
"How was the movie?" she says, laughing.
"It was awesome. I definitely recommend it."
She nods.
I pretend I'm drifting.
"Stop it," she says. "Eat your food."
Itadakimasu~~
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