the feeling of spring

put away your tears and your sleepy eyes
put away the bullshit
big boys they dont cry out to their mamas
shell be back soon.
put away your dinner and have a snack
tie your little brother up in a sack now
were moving to the country and well get there soon
-five for fighting

confettis of happyness

for some odd reason this is the first time in my life that i write in a blog with the feeling of a diary. then again, much has happened recently, and it might merely be that i have no more room in my heart and soul to contain all this that i just e need to put them on something more permanent.
first things first, our three winnings on field day has won us more free membership at the gym! woohoo!
then theres the camaraderie between colleagues that i thought was a good boost of both self confidence and just general work harmony. got to know the people whom i dont normally associate with better.
also, the news that i would be moving up to manage ez cafe. that was actually the highlight of my week. and its still going strong. however, now, ill just confess that despite all my bubbly excitement of moving up, im quite nervous ab managing. i mean, i was an english major the only thing we managed were our writing files.... regardless, i have made my decision to face my fears and do the best i can. no half-assed effort allowed.

i wish the real world would just stop hassling me-matchbox20

hace mucho tiempo que he escrito en espanol. es poquito raro, pero al mismo tiempo, lo me hago sentir mejor.
no se si hare equivocaciones gramatical, o hare diccion mala. pero, tengo esperanza que puedo perfeccionar mi espanol.
pero ahora, cuando he decido escribir algo en espanol, no tengo nada que escribir...mis pensamientos no funccionan.
hay muchos pensamientos sobre un expansion de titulos: amigos, relaciones, el futuro, el proposito de la vida....mucho mas.
por el modo del escribiendo en espanol, las personas quien estan leyendolo pueden solamente adivinar que de que estoy escribiendo. un amigo me dijo una vez, que escribiendo mis pensamientos puede mejorar me alma, escritura terapia. si de acuerdo, pero, a veces, tengo materiales que ni siquiera mostrar aqui en una lengua que entienden. hay algunas razones, pero, la punta principal es que no pienso que pueden entender, o son indiferente de lo que pienso. los humanos son cruel como asi, sin sabiendo que son.

everything will be alright.

a sense of belonging

there is nothing to go back to, only forward. no history, no lingering moment, every sense is fleeting as the salty wind that blows through the rough bushes lining the coast.
of all the things i remember about the beach, its the salty taste in the air, in my hair, on my skin. the freshness that you can lick from the breeze that lightly grazes your tongue when you stick it out far enough. i tried to remember that, and all that is left is a fragmented image of what once was. i can never go back to it.
the people you know, you knew, you once met, as if you never knew them at all. all that is left are dreams that confuse you, making you doubt your sanity for one bit of a fraction. then you rememeber, that it really did happen. its just that time has erased them all, faded, blending into the litany of long lost dreams that you once dreamt of, over and over again, or playing in sequels, trapping you between that fine line of consiousness and subconsciousness.
water. rain. floods. flying. supernatural powers. is this what you escape into when your reality is giving you a bit of cruel twist? its mine. my mind goes back to where we used to live. that long road in Paradise, one long, straight road, leading into town. so when you are passing by in a car, you can see house after house. shacks, nice concrete houses, large, dark green yards. but somehow its ominous. the daylight is strange. off color, but you know its night time. youre taking the bus, full of people who used to surround you when you were back in that reality. black people, indian people, mullatos. its normal. youre just sharing a bus with them like how you used to. and any moment now, youre supposed to knock on whatever hard surface of the bus to let the conductor know that its your stop. however, you dont. you travel with them into town. the town is how it should be. nice two way smooth tarred roads by the docks. the inner town isnt too pretty. dirt roads, muddy roads, raw, concrete sidewalks, the post office where i used to receive so much snail mail that i have a boxfull of yellowed letters. passing by the post, i feel this familiar excitement. the anticipation of expecting a letter from a friend, pen pal, news of any kind, from any foreign land. im like a ghost, i dont see myself. i am the camera, roaming, floating in the air. yet ppl look into the camera and respond to me. i walk out of the post office. walk around town. town isnt much, you can explore it within ten minutes. what i like most is the carpark with the waterfront. just parking your car there, you are facing a wide expanse of deep blue. the breeze, blowing your way, chasing away the endless heat and drying the sweat on your skin. you can even jump down to the sand. however nobody does, in case the tide comes i guess. however it never comes full up as to flood the carpark. floods, water. theres always the dream of that. swimming with dolphins in a sparkling blue expanse of something. its a cross between the ocean and a pool. there is wildlife. there are sailboats, but it is also very safe, small lapping waves make your strokes swifter, carrying you, gliding you, through the silky cool water. the sun shining at just the right temperature. then theres another version, where the suns bright, waves are calm. then just when the suit is on, and feet are padding on the sand, towards the water, the waves start to rise. you dont get to swim at all. instead, the waves hit you. bigger and stronger each time. you have no where to run, you panick. but the water is exquisitely blue, and the day is cloudless. the waves keep pushing. you know you gotta get outta there. but its all wrong. the ocean should be calm. a nice day like this, the waves should not be flooding over, the tide should be at bay. but now. they keep coming, like an army, crashing around you, pulling you, yet pushing you back. the endless tug of war. yet, you are not drowning. you are still alive. why cant you escape? there is a sand wall. you are stuck between the sandwall and the waves. nowhere to run. you cannot climb up becasue somehow the sand is as smooth as silk, as fine as ever. youre clawing at the fine grains that just keep breaking apart. what to do. then you wake up.

I have been consumed by many things recently. Among these things, i feel as if i have a black hole inside of me sucking out all the energy i need to expell for positivity, which, is in dire need.

i dont know why, maybe i need more contact with people, or maybe i just need to grit my teeth and do what i need to do. the latter part has always been sort of a challenge. however, i know that i have never been the type to grit my teeth to the extent of extremism, and i am a strong believer of balance. thus, i think i just need to be in the company of someone who i can talk to. that, is pending.

Moving II

so now that i have really, seriously, done some de-junking of my room and other quarters of the apartment, i have realized that this feat isnt going to take the couple hours that i initially thought it would take. i am thankful that i ditched my procrastination and got to work.
i also realized that this is what i should be doing once every year. not moving (thought i woudnt mind it at all), but this whole downsizing thing. it feels good because in the end, you will be left with only the essentials, crystals of cherished memories, as well as most valuable possessions (subjective perspective, of course). actually it has always been like this for me. i always keep what friends give me. and because i didnt/dont have that many friends, the things they gave/give me are even more precious. i used to want to be part of a big group of people, but now i know that its just not me, and most likely never will be me. so i think am getting closer to being content with who i am.

where am i?

what am i doing? wheres this all leading?
somehow i have the feeling that life is at a stand still right now.
i want inspiration, motivation, emotion.
i am not a juggler. i cannot balance more than two things at the same time if i want them to be well up in the air.
what is the priority? how does one know for sure its a priority when one has no signs and is relying on a chewed out instinct?
i want inspiration, motivation, emotion.

little chili II

Characters: Big Dad, Subjugated Mom, Happy Girl, Pre-antiquated Son
Big Dad: always wears a back support belt over his dirty wife beater (ironic...read for more info), largely stocky, large rimmed glasses, never smiles, always looks as if hes on the verge of cussing out, although he seems to try really hard to control it, because he is constantly frowning, as if concentrating on something.
Subjugated Mom: Short hair like an out of style bob, constantly looks tired, seems to be afraid of Big Dad. Dirty shirt plus dirtier apron, her heart seems to be tired as well. the defeated way she wipes sweat off her forehead, they way she quietly conscends to Big Dad, the way she doesnt even look you straight in the eye when you order your food, even when you have a big smile on your face. When does she actually have time to be pretty? to be seen as a woman, to again feel like she's Spring's butterfly, to be free, to be appreciated, to be her own.
Happy Girl: i have no idea if she bears any relation to the owners, for all i know, she could be one of the many student workers from Feng Chia doing part time employment for 80~100 nt per hour. no matter what, rain or shine, crowded or not, tense or lax, she always has this subtle hint of a smile that makes you feel better about the two other sour faces (ok, forlorn). she is actually quite attentive too, and will take note if your meal is somewhat taking to long (even when what you ordered is worth 25 nt of a bowl of basic noodles. when i see her, i feel good, knowing that at least there is one person who kind of somehow light up the place a bit.
Pre-antiquated Son: like jason once put it, the son "has mannerisms of an old man." He is overly obese (can one be overly obese when obese already means overly overweight?) he puts his head on the restaurant tables with his knees on the chair, and sleeps...then gets up, wanders around the somewhat dirty floor, opening cupboards, closing cupboards, being bored, wearing his dirty school uniform, even after school hours.

quick update before closing shop.

ive wanted to write this down since about last week. however, its been on and off my mind for the longest while.

ever since i came to Feng Chia, as a student, my friends and i used to frequent this delicious and cheap eatery called "little chili."

i still occasion there when i crave for a small bowl of rich wonton noodles.

so i will start off with a little bit of history. (this might be a long entry...those who do not kow "little chili" might find it bo-ring :P)

in my school days, it was located on the side of one of the smaller sub-alleys of Ricebox street, way back, near the university's west side gate. a tiny shack of store surface with a low overhanging roof, a somewhat ok-kept outer kitchen where all the food is prepped, and our four main characters tolling daily to feed swamps of hungry college kids waiting in line. maybe because ive seen them and how they move about, how they respond to customers, and how they treat each other, because whenever i think of Ricebox street, i always think about them. their images float above the rest of the hundreds of tiny stalls or big timers that create just as flavorful taiwanese ambrosia. they are not particularly nice, courteous enough as most store owners go, neither is their behaviour repellent.

Moving!
As in cleaning up an entire house, scrubbing floors and throwing away boxes of junk, worrying about how to get cumbersome furniture to another destination, and at the same time feeling happy about the whole thing, has slowly taken toll on me. Makes me think of the times when we were moving from house to house in the Caribbean. I would always wonder what my new room would be like in our new home, and how different the yard would be. More coconut trees? Pink bouganvillias instead of orange? and hopefully an electronic gate instead of a manual one(never happened...)?
Anyways, I look forward to moving.
My mom, on the other hand, took it like some goddamn tragedy...I guess since its mainly her fault, so she feels super guilty about it. But both my dad and I think its our familys best decision since 2003 (now THATS a goddamn tragedy). So, better late than never, right?

Everyone needs to learn how to get along with others. This is what I overheard from a conversation between my colleagues. When I heard this, I wasnt straining to hear who this was about. All that was echoing through my mind was this first sentence.
So, even when you work with someone you dont like, it could actually be quite easy to go through your daily tasks without letting the other person make you put on a *fuck off* sign across your face.
I have been encouraged that it isnt so bad, because you can actually learn how to deal with this type of person, in case you meet more along the way. Besides, I have recently found that my attitude has turned into somewhat little increments of pre-emptive strikes that I simply do not like myself. So, time for a change of strategy. This is going to be fun.