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~~