Harmless Flirtations

Band Aid.

You plug up the holes in me.

Though you're not the reason

my wounds

were healed

so

when you were

ripped off my

tender skin

I didn't start to bleed again.

but it hurt
more than a little.

I don't know what to call this

I want to create.
I want to say something.
Something honest.
Something real.

But there is nothing in my head right now
That is worth talking about
My current problems are pretty generic
And they bore me.

Oh, this is frustrating.

Conversations that shift into autopilot...

Okay, so I've only had one thing to eat today, and it's like 5:30, and I think what I ate was in fact, gummy worms (the breakfast/lunch/dinner of champions/early gummy birds). And I'm tired. The things that come out of my mouth at this point may or may not make any sense. If you are a fan of the English language, you have been warned.

I got asked another question I get asked a lot today. I think I got asked it 4 or 5 times today. I think we all get asked this question a lot. I suddenly realized that no matter how many times I've been asked this question, I've never really answered it. Or at least I rarely answer it.

"How are you?"

It's become synonomous with "hello", and with "what did you do today", but really, really, what this phrase means is "what is happening in your life, and how are you dealing with that emotionally?"

Hell of a greeting.

If someone says "how are you" to me, I say "I'm fine", or "I'm great" (for those for whom "fine" isn't good enough) and then we move on. Questions are so unnessisary when they go unanswered. "How are you" may be one of the most useless phrases in the english language. I used to think I didn't really answer this question when it got asked me because I didn't want to engage with people, or I just wanted to be mysterious. I don't want to be mysterious though. Mysterious people are lonely, even when they're surrounded by people. I do want to engage with people too. So what is it?

Here's the thing. I just tried to ask myself that question. Gave me enough time to completely think it out. You know what I came up with?

"I'm fine."

I do not answer this question because I do not know the answer. My life is point A's to point B's, with no room to stop and think in between. "Are we there yet?" is the only thing I can ever think to say. "Are we there yet", and "I'm fine." I think I somehow expect that I'll get this amazing chance somewhere inbetween my two points to breathe. Or maybe to find out how I am. Or who I am. Or what exactly I was running towards. I don't know. That's really the point, isn't it? I don't know.

But when? When am I going to have that moment to stop and breathe? If I just wait for it, it may never get here. So here I am, wondering how I am, and time is running out as I am running to...

...what?

So that's how I am.


How are you?













P.S. I'm working at the AV desk right now. Why are all the students in Asian cinema Asian? Doesn't anyone want to learn about someone else? Or are we all just learning more about things we already know? "Higher" education.

Gold and Silver Found on Broken Ground

Hello Everyone (aka the three people that read these silly ramblings of mine). I thought I would talk about something on everyone's mind these days, especially during this current season of Spring. I am speaking, of course, of love. Now, a few of you (including some complete strangers I met recently) have made comments in my direction about my apparent "pessimism" or "negative attitude," or even "sarcasm"*shock* (I'm NEVER sarcastic) on the subject of love and relationships. I wish to clarify the aforementioned discrepencies by allowing all of y'all to hear my perspective on love and relationships, and maybe even why I never talk about being a husband or a father in the future. Hope this helps.

Last week, one of my workmates asked me the question I've been asked far too many times by far too many people (including Erika's mom) regarding my lip ring. "Does it feel weird when you kiss someone with that thing?" I told her what I tell everyone who asks that question. That I've actually never kissed a girl before. Now that felt weird. It's true, though. Never had a girlfreind, never kissed a girl, never even told a girl that I liked her. Some people say I'm an idiot. Some say a coward. While I'm probably a little of both, what I'm really trying to be is patient. I'm idealistic and hopelessly romantic. This is all code for "I've seen too many movies." This is a problem with many of the things in my life. Too many movies. I believe that love is difficult. If it's right, if it's worth going after, it's difficult. And it's a miracle. Every time. I like to hear people's stories. I always ask my freinds who are dating how they ended up together. Never a dull moment. Wow. That's all I have to say. These stories make me happy, and everyone loves telling them. The ways that people find each other, I'm in awe of how creative, ironic, and sometimes even funny this thing called love is. This thing that reminds me of God. God is love, you know. Not only did he invent it, but He embodies it. God is love. You may understand now, my hesitation. Love is not just something to fall into when you're bored, or need something to do with your friday night. It is holy and sacred, and a picture of the one who gave everything to save us from ourselves. Some of you may think from the way I speak about relationships that I'm not really that interested in the idea of love or realtionships, or even that I'm not ready for one. While I can't really make a comment about readyness (how could anyone be ready for what I just described?) Let me make it clear that Imost definetely am interested in the possibility of falling in love and building a relationship with someone. It's been on my mind since childhood. It is a dream that I have to wake up from every morning to face the reality of needing patience for what I do not have, and grattitude for what I do. I think probably the only thing I've ever wanted for more than a few brief moments in my life is to love someone who loves me. To assign my name to hers and live the rest of my life trying to prove to her that she is valuable. To love her as christ loved the church. That's what it really is, in the end. Love between people is a metaphor for God loving us. It has value because he has assigned it value. And it is because of that value that love is a miracle every time. We aren't entitled to it, you know. It's a miracle, a beautiful miracle and a gift. Everyone who has even a little ounce of it is fortunate and THERE IS NOTHING WRONG with you if you don't have it. Because not everyone gets it. That is what makes it such a beautiful miracle when it happens. It's rare. I just ate with a good freind, who told me about someone special in his life, about that beautiful miracle just starting to bloom. I knew who it was even before he said anything. It still made me smile. When it's right, it makes everyone happy. I want that. Nothing less. I want that beautiful miracle and nothing less than that will satisfy me, because love is my picture of who God is. Isn't that worth waiting for? Wouldn't something less than that be devastating, to the point that it would be better to remain as you are, even until the end of your life, than to settle? I think so. That is why I am waiting. Not because I'm bitter, socially inpet, an idiot, or a coward, but because it's worth it. It's worth the risk of never having it. This reminds me of a guy named Seth Roberts. I don't actually know Seth, but he was the lead singer of 3 bands that I like. The first was called Watashi Wa (which, by the way, means "I am" in Japanese) and he started it when he was 14. He was part of a band called "Eager Seas" after Watashi Wa broke up for, like, a year, and then he formed a band called Lakes a few years ago, which he is in today. He got married in between those last two band changes, and the first track on his band's new EP is called "Indian Lover." I swear, in the last two days this song has risen from the bottom of my musical archive to the top two most listened to songs on my ipod (see facebook profile for further details). In an interview once, Seth explained that the song was about his wife, and how she was his best freind since Watashi Wa, and it took him nearly forever to realize that he was in love with her. He talked about how much her love had shaped the person he became, and made his life endurable. I can't help but think that this is what I'm looking for someday. A love that shapes me. This is the love that I am talking about. Here are the lyrics...

INDIAN LOVER
When my baby came around
She was just like gold and silver found
on broken ground
And I was frozen in a stare
She said "boy, life ain't living
if you don't breathe the air."
So I said
Don't don't don't don't
don't you go anywhere
when you're down and broken
I'll love you there

Now all your life
There's gonna be love
in all your pain
and when that broken ground
gets in your way
there's gonna be love
to help you stand
and when the world lets you down
to just more broken ground
there's gonna be love

It goes on, and actually listening to the song is better, but you get the idea. I want to be in love, but I want it to be real. I don't see any point in wasting my time worrying about it, or flirting with girls just for practice, or dating out of boredom, or any of that other stupid stuff that my lonely heart tells me to do. What's the point, really, when there's something better out there?







P.S. I drank a blueberry iced tea today. There was a smiling sun on the bottle that told me to have a bluetiful day. Why thank you, mr. Sun. I think I'll do just that.

ENFP

Apparently I'm not the same person I was a year ago. I believe that fully, I mean, I know that I've changed a lot in the last year, but my changes have been officially confirmed by a Mr Myers and a Mr Briggs. I have a new personality! I took the Myers/Briggs personality profile yesterday (bored @ work). I had taken it before a few times. The first time it told me I was hyper sensitive. I got mad. The second time was last year right before LAUP. I knew I was hypersensitive this time. I didn't let it bug me. Yesterday, I noticed that my answers to some of the questions were slightly different, but I didn't think it would effect too much. Come to find out, I was wrong. I'm a different person than I was a year ago. I have a new personality. I didn't think I would care that much, but I was looking at the description of my new personality, and I couldn't help but think. I like this guy. He seems kind of interesting. And familiar. How amazing is this God of mine, that he could even change my personality? I can't take credit for any of this. My entire life is a ring of concentric circles. I think I'm growing up, and maybe I am, but like a circle, I'm running against the same ground over and over again. I am a circle. God is a line. A direction. A purpose. He is taking me with him, as I spin around in futility, succeding only in making myself sick. He is patient, and understanding, but he is also a line, and he will take us all with him eventually. I am ready to stop making myself dizzy and see what you have for me, and what you would have me do for you. I am grateful for everything you've done. Lead me on, into that bright future, and I will look ahead. I will follow.

Occurance

Last week, one of my co-workers told me that I "back my shit up." It occured to me that this is similar to not being a hypocrite, which is one of my life goals. This is very good news.

It also occured to me that my co-ordinator at my internship calls me "Sweetie." I've been responding to this without thinking. I don't really care that she does it, but it does strike me as strange.

Something else occured to me last Friday, as I was sitting on the streets of Skid Row, waiting for someone I knew to show up, so I could hear the word of God, and care for the homeless. It's a little bit of a different occurance:

Thoughts On Skid Row On The Evening Of 03.07.08 (A Friday)

The word of God is read on the streets.
The streets are alive.
Alive smells like waste
like urine
like old feet
and we have all been walking.
Here is where we stand still.
Here is where we have no place
to walk to.
This is the corner where I sit.
It belongs to me
because it belongs to you.
I have tied your name to my feet
and carry you with me always.
I wish to become you
in all the ways that I can,
standing at the corner
of your street.
Your enemies have become
my enemies
and your people
cannot afford shoes.
So I walk for them.
I will walk to this corner
But no further.
Here the soles of my feet
have found rest.
I will find shoes for those
who are willing to walk
and rest for those who cannot.
On your corner.
On your street.
With nothing but your words
as shoes for my feet.
Clothe me in blessing
and I will do my best
to be naked
by the end of the day.
Your corner.
Your street.
Your words.
My feet.
I will walk no further.

Jimmy and my Camera

So, yesterday I brought my camera to my internship, because I wanted to take pictures of this "Sherman Oaks" place. This place that has me completely for two days of my week. I guess I really wanted to know if there was anything beautiful there, because the place kind of bores me. It's been about six weeks now, and I'm still not exactly in love with Sherman Oaks like I'm in love with Monterey, or Long Beach, or Fullerton, or even Salinas. You have to see something beautiful in some way before you fall in love. So that's what I was doing. Camera in hand, walking the streets of Sherman Oaks, trying to fall in love. I didn't even get to take my pictures yet before I met Jimmy. I wasn't really listening when he asked me what time it was. I had my headphones on. I miss a lot of important things becasue I have my headphones on. I told him what time it was, and he asked me to make sure that it was the time right now. At least I think that's what he said. I could only understand about 60% of what he said. There was something wrong with his speech, to the point that his speaking was almost unintelligible muttering. From what I understood, though, Jimmy wanted to be sure that the time was exact to that moment. Why? I have no idea. Maybe he just wanted the conversation to last a little longer. He found a way to make it last a little longer. Jimmy introduced himself and asked if I played football. I said I didn't. He asked why not. He said that I could make lots of money. He asked me what I was doing in Sherman Oaks. I told him about my internship. He asked me if it payed a lot of money. I said it didn't pay any money. He said I should go into the Air Force, because his friend in the Air Force got to travel around the world, and sleep and eat for free, with $1,000 a month. "not bad, not bad," he said. He kept talking about money a lot, so I thought he needed money. I didn't have any. I thought he asked me for money, and so I told him I didn't have any. "No, I don't need money," he said. I played football. Are you married?" I had to laugh. I guess there are a good number of people married by my age, but I still see myself as a barely recovering teenager. "No, I'm not married," I said. Jimmy said I should go into the Air Force, because his friend in the Air Force got to travel around the world, and sleep and eat for free, with $1,000 a month. "Not bad, not bad." Jimmy told me to be careful when I get married, because if I pick a woman who only cares about money, that she would divorce me, and lock me out of my house, and take my car. I told him that I'd be careful if I got married. "Not if! When! When!" Jimmy made a hand motion like cradeling a baby. "And you'll have lots of these," he said as he rocked his empy arms back and forth. He introduced himself again, and asked me if I played football. I said no. He said that I should, because I could make lots of money. Or I could join the Air Force. Jimmy and I talked for about half an hour, and I think we pretty much talked about just the Air Force, marriage, and football. I mostly listened, because I have absolutely zero information about either. Jimmy also told me to make lots of money, and buy a house. He showed me the football injury on his hand. He made me touch it. Jimmy tried to end our conversation several times, shaking my hand and saying goodbye, but he kept thinking of more things to say about the Air Force, marriage, or football. Finally, he had to go because he said he was hungry. "remember what I said to you," he called after me.
"I'll remember," I said.
"What did I say?"
I repeated what I could remember. He nodded, and walked off. I got started on my pictures at long last. I couldn't stop thinking about Jimmy. I had only taken about two pictures when I realized something. The only reason I ever fell in love with a place was because of the people that are there. There's nothing special about the city of Fullerton, except that three years ago I met this crazy guy named Tim Hsieh passing out free bottles of water my first week at a new school. The journey he invited me on, and the people I've met. Those are the beautiful things. Salinas is actually kind of a dumpy town, to be honest. But the picture I have in my head when I think of Salinas is of my mother, and my sisters, and maybe, maybe my brother too. Yeah him too. Even my Dad and my uncle. And his stupid dog that he sings too when he's drunk (my uncle, not my Dad). And Long Beach? Long beach is flooded with memories of little children laughing and playing, and making penguins out of olives and hard boiled eggs. It's the 11 crazy other people that spent six weeks starving and craving soda, and doing dishes with me. It's Libin's crazy leopard spotted sheets. It's staying up until 1 Am in the hallways talking, even though we need to be up at 6 the next morning. It's Minnie. Beautiful Minnie, with her whistling ringtone on her pink cell phone. How she taught me how to clean properly over and over again, and the way she would stop and pray for every little thing, no matter gow small it seemed. The way she brought me lemonade while I mopped the floor, even though she worked so much harder than me. I'm in love with all the places I've been because of the people I met there. I hadn't met anyone beautiful in Sherman Oaks yet. I suppose the people at my internship were all attractive and glamorous, but I'm not really talking about that. I realized that Jimmy was beautiful in the way that I was looking for. I ran to find him. He couldn't have gotten very far with his slow waddle-like gait. I finally found him outside Rite Aid, asking a woman what time it was. She told him. He tried to ask if that was the time right now, but she was already walking past him. When I caught up to him, he was asking someone else the same question. I said hi to Jimmy. He reacted like seeing an old friend. I asked him if I could take his picture. He at first said no, but when I said please really nicely, he agreed. He wanted a copy of the picture, so I asked hime if he had an email address. He didn't know what I meant, so I assumed he didn't. "Where can I find you?," I asked.
"I am...there," he said, and pointed to the El Pollo Loco across the street.
"Every day?" He nodded. He told me to let him know if I made lots of money.
"Okay, Jimmy, I'll see you later." He grabbed my hand.
"I don't need money," he said, looking me in the eye very seriously. He walked away, and somehow I knew that Jimmy was what I was looking for today. I don't understand most of what he said, or what his life must be like, but I can't help but wonder. I can imagine it must be difficult to have so much to say, and no one patient enough to wait until you have said it. I don't know how much good I can do for Jimmy, but I can listen. It seemed to be enough for him. I think I'll try to find Jimmy again. I think I need him as much as he could need me. I need to fall in love with this city. I need to know the people who are here.

Just wanted to say...

I love you all :)
I'm
In a silly mood
I suppose
It will pass
In time...but for now,
I'm
In love with everything and everyone
In this entire stupid planet.

Do You Believe What I Said Was True?

Yesterday I did something I haven't done in a while but should do more often. Every Friday night, my church meets at skid row to have church and pass out food and clothes. I decided to go this week even though I was tired after a long week and a long day at my internship. I kind of thought that I was going to help other people, but you know how it is when God is involved. It's never what you expect. We were out there on the streets, hearing the word of God as it was meant to be heard: in the open. That night the preacher was a man named Mercy, and he was talking about the method God uses to deliver us from oppression. He said that once God pronounced something dead in your life, it was gone. Forever. I had to admit, as much as I struggle with doubt, and uncertainty about God, and weather or not He's really on my side, I have been delivered from things. Things that will not come back. Mercy said that if we were willing to follow God, he would continue to mold us and shape us, and free us from our oppressors, but we had to be willing. At that moment, a woman passed by, and interrupted Mercy as he was speaking. She gave him some money. She said she wanted to thank him for being out there, and to thank God for telling her this week that she needed to give up her addiction to cocaine. Mercy stopped, and seeing how visibly upset she was, asked if we could pray for her. She said yes, so we gathered around her. We weren't at church anymore. We were never at church. We were on the street. we were in the lives of people who needed our God. They were our brothers and our sisters. As we prayed over this woman, her body started to shake. She kept shouting her needs out loud, and the ways she wanted to return to cocaine, and she begged God to set her free from it. When we were finished, she looked up. A few tears glistened on her wrinkled face, like diamonds under the dirty street lights on the corner of Winston and Wall. She kept trying to give us more money. All her savings was tucked away underneath the strap on her bra, less than fifty dollars. She wanted us to have as much as she could give. I looked around at the crowd, all these rich people (myself included, though sometimes I pretend like I'm poor) from Irvine, Los Angeles, and Orange County. Didn't we have enough (more than enough) to completely support what was being done here? Didn't we come here to do just that? We didn't need her money, if we could just be more generous. God didn't need her money. "I-I've been drinking, I know I've been drinking," she tried to stammer through her appologies. "I know it's wrong, and I-" Mercy didn't let her go on. "Do you believe" he asked, "do you believe that what I said was true?" "Do you smell the alcohol on my breath?" She said it in a sort of half whisper, half accusation. Again, Mercy asked "Do you believe that what we prayed for you was true?" He reached over and hugged her. She started to cry. "I believe you, I believe you, I believe you," she said over and over again. Mercy said that God sent that woman, not only so that she could be healed, but so that we could see God through her. She learned something last night that I haven't yet learned. I come to God with my excuses and my appologies for why I'm not what I'm supposed to be, or why there are things that tie me down that I should never have become involved with in the first place. I think, for some reason, that God expects me to clean up my act, and get myself back into order, to bring Him glory. But what about prayer? What about miracles? If it were actually possible to fix ourselves, how would that prove that God answers prayers, and works miracles? I think I need to wait, and trust. I need to believe that what he said was true, and that my help will come, not my my own efforts, but because God, who cares for us; God who gives us what we need; God, who never wastes our pain; God will be my help. My prayer. My miracle.