All good things...

Another conversation with myself...

As a kid, I used to think a lot about space. I used to marvel at how big it seemed; the sheer size and space it represents used to just boggle my mind. It still marvels me whenever I think deep enough about how big the universe really is. I mean, no matter how long you lived, you wouldn't be able to visit every single star in the sky. It's just crazy to me to think that so much else is going on the universe, so much so that everything we do here really amounts to nothing. That our entire existence is nothing more than a single molecule of H20 in the ocean. It was both frightening and interesting at the same time. I still marvel at all of that.

When I found out that by the time the majority of light from the stars the reaches us here that the star has already probably gone supernova and doesn't exist anymore, I was just amazed even more. Just the amount of sheer time it took for the light of a star to reach us dumfounded me, and to this day I still am amazed and in a little disbelief. Everything we see in the sky is just a snapshot, a picture of what once was. It exists, but only to us, and to anyone else who could have caught a glimpse.

But one thing that used to trouble me the most was what, if ever possible, would we encounter at the end of the universe? Some things I dreamed up were that at the end of universe, there would be just a wall not much unlike the walls of my room. I also used to dream of unending blackness.

I never really thought that the universe was infinite, even in my younger days I didn't think that. Everything must end, I reasoned. Indeed, the universe may seem infinite, and by scale of feasible time it would take to reach from one end to the other, it may as well be infinite. But there is an end. There is always an end.

Every time I move on from something that I have been doing for a long time, I always seem to be reminded of those thoughts I had as a kid about how the end of the universe would look like. When I graduated high school a whole year ago now (seems like so much longer...), we had this thing called Grad Night, where almost all of us seniors were locked up in a school to hang out and party all night. There were parts of the school that you could be outside, although still locked up in the school. I remember looking up at the star-filled sky, and for a little while I channeled that little boy inside of me who used to look up at the sky every night and think about the past, the present, and what was to come. Indeed, for a little while, I was very scared. Where would I be a year from that moment? Would I go anywhere? Would I do anything with my life?

Yeah, it's way too early to answer most of those questions, but once again, I find myself at the edge of another end. It isn't a dead end, rather, it should be just the door at the end of a long hallway of pain and suffering that somehow resulted in my finding what I wanted to do with my life; the career choice I found for myself.

What I am talking about is the fact that after the end of this school semester, I will no longer be a part of the Express school newspaper anymore. That breaks an almost three year streak where in some way or form I was involved in the a newspaper somehow, whether at the HUB in high school, or the Express in college.

I already signed up for all my classes for next semester, and while I may switch around some classes a little later before the spring semester starts, I know for a fact that none of the classes I will be taking will have anything to do with journalism.

I guess you could say I reached the highest point I could reach, so why should I be all melancholy and stuff? Well, it never really hit me at all this semester that I was the editor in chief of something. I just didn't feel like the boss. It wasn't my style of leadership to be the unquestioned boss, I just wanted to learn along with everyone else as the semester flew by. But I noticed many times this semester that this philosophy failed me miserably. People want someone to give them direction, people want someone to be the hardass and tell them exactly what to do, no matter how much they cry and complain about you later. It's one of the catch-22's of leadership, you've just got to be jerk and piss some people off, or you'll just be a floor mat and people will be pissed off because they think you aren't doing anything.

I remember the advisors Doug and Dianne talking about how being an editor, any editor for that matter not just the big guy in charge, will really tell you something about yourself and whether you want to continue in this journalism business. When I first got word that I got the job as News editor last semester, I thought back to all those days when I was a measly reporter who did the dirty work for my editors. I know that some of my editors were great and wonderful people who I would work under in a heartbeat if I could, but there were some who just didn't seem like they wanted to be editor, and didn't seem like they knew what they were doing. The worst part was that they pretended to know what they were doing most of the time. In high school and college, I don't think anyone who holds any sort of higher position over others can act that way in a learning environment. I knew promised myself that if I ever got any higher position if I advanced in this field at this level, I wouldn't act in that way at all. To me, at this level of things, everything is a learning experience, even though we are told that we are learning as we are practicing the same type of journalism that the pros do, since there are no minor leagues.

Anyway, from all the bad experiences, and good ones, I tried to mold my personality into what I thought of as the ideal college newspaper editor. Being a news editor didn't discourage me at all from being a journalist. But, when I was announced as editor in chief last semester, I didn't take it seriously at all. It was to me, it was only the next logical step I had to take. Nothing more. I took a full load of classes, thinking I would be able to balance everything. Like usual, I was wrong.

At the moment, only half of my classes remain. I'd rather not go into all the reasons I dropped them, but let's just say that there is a curse on every editor in chief who serves at the Express. Something will disrupt your semester and screw you over.

But now, here I am, at the end. Wednesday is the last production day that I will be a part of here. From then on out, this newspaper will be the care of another crew, with their own stories to tell. I am not sad for that, in fact, I look forward to see just what exactly the next staff will bring. But, I am beginning to be saddened when I think of all the things I set out to do ever since I was just a little budding reporter in high school.

Indeed, this is not the end of my journalism career, far from it. It's just, I believe this is the end of this chapter of my journalism career. From here on out, I can only go down again, to a reporter on an actual newspaper, working for editors whose career it is to produce a newspaper. Like I stated earlier, being an editor at this level hasn't extinguished the fire inside of me that makes me want to be a journalist the rest of my life. But it sure as hell given me a new perspective on things.

Yet, I can't help but think about how these next few days represent the end of all I've worked for these past three years. Indeed, it has actually been much longer, if I count the time time when I was on the little pathetic elementary school newspaper back in 4th, 5th, and 6th grade. Rather, I am counting the time when I rediscovered my love of this profession back in 11th grade.

(Time for a little story) For the longest time, I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. With 11th grade fast approaching, with that being the year most people scope out colleges and fill out their applications with extracurriculars and stuff like that, I felt I had to choose something. When I found out that the teacher who used to advise that little elementary school newspaper would be teaching this journalism class at the high school, I jumped at the opportunity to see her again. Indeed, I always tell people I had a little crush on my high school journalism teacher which resulted indirectly in rekindling my love for journalism. Indeed, it is true, but not the only reason I fell in love with journalism again.

You see, if you know me, I am probably the farthest thing from you would think of as a journalist. I am very quiet, I don't necessarily like talking to new people, new places scare me, I wasn't the best writer, etc etc. But, whenever I went into journalist mode, I completely changed. It was a way for me to break out of my shell, if only for the time I had my journalist hat on.

Anyway, I still remember the person I was way back when I was first starting out, and now that I've reached the end, I think about that time more and more. What have I accomplished since then? Have I done anything? Has this all been a waste of time? What if I don't get a professional job, will it mean that I am not ready yet? So many questions without answers are racing through my head at the moment, I don't even remember half of them. But more than a few are making me panic.

All good things...

Yes, this whole experience has been for the better, I must tell myself. I don't know if I believe it yet, but I feel like I must keep telling myself that. When things come to an end, you've got to just look back at what you have seen. Whether it was the entire universe, or the universe according to yourself. Of course there were a shit load of things you missed, but there would have been no way possible to do everything you want, just like it would be impossible to visit every star in the universe. All good things must come to an end. But that doesn't mean that there aren't better things to come. Hopefully there is more out there, not just unending blackness.

So, what's next?

Who am I?

I read one time a little while back that the overwhelming majority of Americans define themselves by the job. That is to say, the first thing we might reveal to a new person we meet is what we do for a living. Not that I'm worried at all about this; I just find it an interesting bit of social psychology. I also find it a bit limiting. Of course, as a student (studying to be a journalist; I can't define myself like that just yet) I am still trying to find my way into the monotonous groove that will be the rest of m life. Like the average person my age, I think it's hard to define who I am. But, that won't stop me from trying. So, I made up a list of things I am. It might kind of sound like that one Meredith Brooks song "Bitch," but whatever... Here you go.

Who am I? I am a liberal, overweight, guitar-playing, music-loving, 2007 Davis Senior High grad, baseball fan, football fanatic, sports enthusiast who's not too athletic, working student, older brother, only son, half-Mexican, half-Filipino, natural born American citizen, shy, student journalist, closet theatre geek, indie filmmaker, Mac user, video game aficionado, caffeine addict, member of generation y.

I don't know if that is in any particular order. But it is what it is. I guess if I had to make up tags like tags for what categories this post goes under, those would be it...

Current Top Ten Albums of Mine...

Because I have been organizing my music library, I've decided to compile a list of my favorite albums of all time. I have taken many factors into consideration, and have come up with a list of the top ten. Some of them don't get as much plays on my iPod, stereo, turntable (yes! I have a turntable), but each one in someway defines my current musical tastes. That also means that this list will most definitely change over time. So, without any further a due, here's the list, along with some blurbs about each one.


10. Soviet Kitsch by Regina Spektor (2004)- Her voice is just awesome. Period. You should listen to her most recent album, Begin To Hope, then move backward through her catalogue, to fully appreciate her musical brilliance. This album takes a little time to sink in, and maybe an acquired taste, but in the end I think it's worth it. It also doesn't hurt that she's extraordinarily cute. Maybe my huge crush on affects my feelings towards her music, but whatever. Favorite songs- "Ode To Divorce," "Us," and "Your Honor."




9. Phrenology by The Roots (2002)- Instrumental rap at it's best. Anyone who hates on rap for not being real music, well, they haven't heard the Roots. They are the best example of everything that is great about rap; and music for that matter. There is a socially conscious message in every one of their albums. It's just that this album is their most enjoyable, a perfect blend of their social commentary and head bobbing hooks. Favorite songs, "Rock You," "Sacrifice," "The Seed 2.0," and "Break You Off."




8. Let There Be Rock by AC/DC (1977)- This is what rock and roll is supposed to be. Minimalist, kick-your-ass bluesy rock. 'Nuff said. Favorite tracks- "Let There Be Rock," "Bad Boy Boogie," and "Whole Lotta Rosie."








7. Demon Days by Gorillaz (2005)- Take away the whole cartoon band shtick of the Gorillaz, and your left with some pretty awesome tunes. I can just put this album on and let it play itself out, which is what I tended to do quite a bit on my daily voyages to Sacramento riding on the bus and light rail. It's a perfect soundtrack to the inner city, at least to me. Dark, funky, and always enjoyable. Favorite tracks- "O Green World," "Dirty Harry," "El Mañana," and "Dare."




6. Third by Portishead (2008)- Their first and second albums are brilliant, but they take their sound to a whole new level here. Beth Gibbon's voice is beautifully expressive, while the backing beats are as disturbing as they are catchy. While not it doesn't have songs that are as immediately memorable as their first album, it does sport some their most eclectic blends of sounds. The rocking electronica track "We Carry On" is immediately followed by the barbershop-esque "Deep Water." Masterful songwriting brings the whole thing together. Favorite tracks- "Silence," "We Carry On," "Deep Water," and "Machine Gun."



5. We Are Pilots by Shiny Toy Guns (2006)- I bought this album for one track, "Le Disko," a little while back, and forgot about it until I put my iPod on shuffle one day and so happened upon "Rainy Monday." I decided to listen to the rest of the album, and fell in love with this group. Now whenever I hear one of the tracks, I just have to listen to the rest of the album. I can't wait for their new album due out this November, but I am a little disappointed that they parted ways with Carah Faye Charnow; she can never be replaced. Favorite tracks "You Are The One," "Starts With One," "Don't Cry Out," "Rainy Monday," and "We Are Pilots."


4. The Eraser by Thom Yorke (2006)- I will listen to anything remotely related to Radiohead. But Thom's solo album takes the best of what he brings to Radiohead (his brilliant songwriting abilities) and mixes it with minimalist electronica loops. Indeed, this could have easily been a Radiohead album, and probably the best result of their experimentation on albums like Kid A and Amnesiac. So yeah, Thom doesn't stray too far from his Radiohead stuff, but for some reason I find this album more enjoyable than more than a few Radiohead albums. Favorite tracks- "The Eraser," "Skip Divided," "Black Swan," and "Atoms For Peace."


3. Ready To Die by Notorious B.I.G. (1994)- The thing that strikes me most about this record is his sincerity. He doesn't glorify the lifestyle he lived, rather, he acts more like a documentarian, if that's a word. Gangster rap is all about the stories you weave, and what Biggie puts forth on this record is undoubtedly something he lived through. And at times, he sounds almost remorseful for acts he had committed. At least that's what I hear whenever I put this record on. Favorite tracks- "Gimmie The Loot," "Juicy" "Everyday Struggle," "Big Poppa," and "Suicidal Thoughts."



2. All That You Can't Leave Behind by U2 (2000)- This was the first CD I bought by myself. This and another reason are the reason this album holds a special place in my heart. On the last day of school of every year from 6th to 12th grade, the first song I played (well, blasted) on my radio when I got home was "Beautiful Day." It's just the perfect song to turn up and relish in all the memories of the past year. I found it fitting to use the title of this album as my senior quote in my yearbook. Favorite tracks- "Beautiful Day," "Stuck In A Moment You Can't Get Out Of," and "Walk On."



1. O.K. Computer by Radiohead (1997)- The first time I put this CD in my walkman was the first time I smiled when I listened to an album, ever. I think it is the only time I have. Simply put, my music tastes changed when I heard this album. There isn't a dull moment, not one second wasted. I don't think the spacey soundscapes will ever go out of date. I cannot choose my favorite tracks because they are all equally awesome to me. It's just something you've got to hear to believe it. Of course, it will turn off quite a few people, but those who truly appreciate it will be rewarded.



Albums that almost made the list, One Nation Under A Groove by Funkadelic (1977), Let It Bleed by The Rolling Stones (1969), and Unknown Pleasures by Joy Division (1979).

All my little plans and schemes...

Nothing has really been the same since one night a little bit more than a year ago. It was the night that I walked onto the stage in front of people I had pretty much known all my life, and accepted my certificate that legitimized all that I had worked at those first eighteen years of my existence. I believe I can finally look back on that night and contemplate what it really meant to me, especially since, at the time, it felt like just another day, just another thing I had to do...

I wonder, have I changed at all from that person I was that night? Did I move onto manhood? This seems to be a major theme in my life, wondering whether I am still the person I was after some major event... (flashback time!)

Entering junior high, only a few weeks into the school year, the September 11th attacks took place, and I was left to ponder for the first real time in my life what drives people to such ends that they felt extreme and immediate violence was necessary. Was it their religion? Was it their circumstance? Or was it some other thing that I could never even begin to comprehend? That question still remains unanswered in my life, but I can trace parts of my disillusionment with religion (of which I have written about to no end) to that point.

Then, a few years later, at the beginning of high school, I was dealt probably the biggest blow in my life, the passing of my grandfather. My grandparents had been a major part of my childhood. My grandmother (who is still alive, but has pretty advanced Alzheimer's and doesn't even remember me anymore) pretty much raised me during my first few summers, being that my parents couldn't take off from work and had to have someone babysit me. It's an experience none of my siblings got. But, my grandfather; he was like the closest thing I ever had to an idol. He had this quiet, calming strength to him that was and will forever be reassuring to me. I always loved going over to his place, in part because he used to give me five dollars every time we visited. But, also, I would love to go there just to sit and listen to him and my father talk. They epitomized "grown up" talk to me in their discussions on everything from sports to politics. If there is only one thing I really regret in my life, it is never really talking to my grandpa all that much. He was my idol, and for that, he was always very intimidating to me. When he passed, I almost cried, but I didn't. I remember how I forced myself not to cry -- boys don't cry. But, looking back, I really wish I had, since it would probably be the last time I could.

After his passing, I know my life had to take a different turn. If my childhood innocence didn't die with 9/11, it sure did with his passing. But, it just so happened that the school year after this I became embroiled with thoughts about college and my future. There was never a long time for grieving. But, what I tried to do from then on was take the best of what my grandfather showed me and go forward with life.

Now, back to my original example. Grad night, 2007. I say that nothing has been the same since then because that night forced me to change, forced me to choose. As I sit here and write this little rant out, two major things loom over my head: the fact that I will be Editor in Chief of the Sacramento City College student newspaper The Express this coming fall semester, my sophomore year of college; and a pretty big interview for a job that pays quite a bit more than anything I have done before.

I am looking back on my life to see just what this change means to me now. Call me an extraordinarily self centered historian if you will, but I am writing this also as my summer history class is winding down, with only a week to go. Anyway, looking at what I just wrote, it seems that childhood and change seem to be another major theme in my life...

Just a few months ago, me and the newspaper advisor were talking and discussing my future with The Express, so it was pretty much whether I would apply for the EIC position. In that talk, he noted that he could sense a lot of hesitation inside of me. That hesitation was the simple fact that I know that if I applied for that top job, I was pretty much guaranteed in getting it (forgive my megalomania).

Recently, I applied for a job that is a big step up from what I do currently. I know that I would be one of the most qualified candidates, but again, I hesitated.

Am I afraid of responsibility? Because, each of these two new positions seem to represent that. I know now that I am far removed from the lowly reporter I was back in high school as I was first starting out in my journalism journey. I am no longer that kid fresh out of high school starting his first day on the job and being totally intimidated by the number of adults around me who knew way more than I did. But, I applied for the EIC position, and I applied for that new job.

If there is any point to this rant, I guess it would be that there is this constant struggle within me about growing up, about taking responsibility, about resisting change. I hope that where my life is heading at the moment, the resolution of these conflicts will be made clear. Nothing has been the same since grad night, the only time I had ever stayed up all night to that point in my life. My old self survived the night, but a new day, something different, had dawned. Change doesn't happen overnight.

Late Night

Extraordinary frustration. I don't know how I get through the day sometimes...

Do you ever leave your cell phone on all night, just in case you might get a call from someone, anyone? I know most people leave their phones on all night anyway, but you know me, I over think things... I always turn my phone off, it's kind of like my way of telling the world "fuck you, I'm going to bed and you can't wake me with your problems." Until I awake in the morning and turn it back on, I will not deal, or even think, of any of the days problems.

Which brings me back to leaving my phone on all night... I never do it, unless there's a reason. Something gnawing at the back of head as I lay in my bed, looking up at the darkness of my ceiling until my eyes adjust to the light. I can't sleep in silence, there always has to be some sort of white noise slowly reverberating throughout my room like a serene, whispered lullaby. I can't sleep in silence because there are always thoughts racing around my head as I try to sleep. Things that happened throughout the day, things I didn't think of until now. Great, what a time to be thinking of all the crap I did wrong, and what I could have done better. The one thing I don't need is another thing to think about, to worry whether someone, that one person, that one girl, will call back. Maybe even just a little text message, some acknowledgment that she is also awake and thinking of me.

So late, too late...

The morning after, you awake, realizing that at some point you did manage to fall asleep. Rushing over to the phone, not a thing has changed. Everything is as it was the day before. The problems still there, feelings still tender. I awake to the undeniable truth that I must face the day once more.

In the Pale Moonlight...

I have always dreamed of being an astronomer. Ever since that first time I watched Star Wars, and probably before then, space has intrigued me. There was this one book I remember as a child reading this one book about the planets of the solar system. In it, there was this haunting image of the vividly blue planet Neptune that dominated my subconscious thought. One of the only dreams I remember, quite vividly still, is of being lost in this unending Neptunian ocean. That was the summer I learned how to swim, so my mind was probably just making connections. However, in this dream, I remember swimming around, looking for something to grab onto, some sort of land. But I never did, and I woke up.

Indeed, when I found out that Neptune was actually just a big ball of gas, not liquid water, I was quite crushed. I guess it was one of those loss of innocence moments, finding out that I could never actually swim on Neptune. Yet, finding out that fact only seemed to spark more interest in the mysteries of the universe for me…

But, somehow between then and just recently, I must have lost my way. As I took more science classes, I began to slowly despise how these mysteries began to fade away. When I bought my first telescope (after begging and pleading my parents to get a really expensive one), and pointed it towards the moon, I was very disappointed.

Many years passed…

It must have been about two years since I actually touched my telescope. The big behemoth reflector sat right outside my room, collecting dust. Then, for some reason, I decide to haul it out, just for the hell of it.

It was a summer night, warm enough to where I could just sit outside the whole time in jeans and a T-shirt. The high school graduation ceremony only a month ago still fresh in my mind. So, in the park behind my house, I set the telescope up on this little man made hill and just gazed at the universe. It was dark enough to where I could easily see the outline of the Milky Way. I decided to point my telescope towards the planet Jupiter (I could never find Neptune…). As I located Jupiter in the sky and looked through the eyepiece, the view amazed me. I could easily see three or four of Jupiter’s moons, and of course, Jupiter itself. This one little image, beautiful in its simplicity, re-inspired my love for space.

When I look at the stars, when I think about the universe now, things are alternately simple and mysterious. When I think about all the galaxies, nebulas, black holes, etc., I realize that this is existence. Everything that we are is located here. Yet, no one can even begin to imagine the true size and scope of it all…

Of course, the main questions that pops up from there are, why is the universe here? Why is this existence? At some point in my life, I hope to answer these questions.

When I think of these questions, when I try to answer them, these are the times I feel like a kid again. I remember the times when things didn’t seem to make sense, but I could look forward to finding the answers as I gained experience. As I succeeded. As I failed. I am humbled by how much I don’t know, but very eager to learn.

Such is life, I guess; it’s not about finding the answer, rather, it’s about the voyage we go through in finding the answer. Yeah, that’s pretty vague, so what?

fall to the darkside...

And now for something you probably won’t like…


For those of you who know me, you know how I despise religion. I won’t show it outwardly, unless there’s something that really gets to me. But, if you are talking about praying, going to church, or missions, and you take a look at me, you will notice my distance…

I was a Catholic. I went through all of the necessary sacraments; from baptism to confirmation. My whole family, on both sides, is devoutly Catholic. But, a little while into last year, I just decide to stop going to church. Something just didn’t click with me, I guess.

You see, as I sat in church those first 18 years of my life, I never really believed in anything that was being said. From there being a higher power to the belief that one guy died for our supposed sins. Nothing made any sense.

Why do we believe in these things such as God? Well, I guess in order to answer that question, we’d have to understand the whole idea of faith and belief. To me, faith and belief are completely and totally different from person to person. It has to be.

We all have our own set of preconceived notions that define how we think. It is what formed these notions that defines who we are as a person. We can change, but not easily.

This is where faith comes in, I believe (no pun intended). When there is something that we don’t understand, we can either attempt to understand it, or, leave it a mystery. Both ways have their uses.

The problem I have with religion is how a lot of people use it as more of a crutch than anything else. They use it as a reason for persecution of others with differing beliefs. They use it as an excuse to justify social injustice. They use it as empty encouragement when they don’t know anything else to say.

There is this image burned in my mind of something I saw in downtown as I waited for the bus back to Davis in Downtown Sacramento. Outside the capital building, parked right by the crosswalk, sat this truck adorned with a large cross protruding from the roof, and messages written all over the sides. It was labeled a as a “truth truck.” The messages it was sending out? “Repent for your sins!” “Homosexuality is a sin!” so on and so forth.

It took me all my might to stop myself from pissing on the truck right then and there. So, instead, I just hocked a big luggie on the hood.

But, it also got me to thinking; how could the same religion that preaches peace and forgiveness also foster this kind of hate and intolerance?

The only answer I can give to that is that faith and belief are totally different from person to person.

Now, what does this have to do with me totally losing faith in my own religion? Well, simply put, everything lost all meaning to me.

When I hear someone saying “God will show you the way” and “Christ is the way,” they have absolutely no weight with me. Even when I thought I was a Catholic, these phrases, the prayers, the simple act of going to church felt empty and meaningless. To me, they almost represent a form of ignorance.

I guess you could say that I was never really Catholic in the first place. You could also say that I just don’t have the connection with God or whatnot that others who truly believe do. But, to counter, I would say that I tried deeply to have a connection with God. You see, as I said before, Catholicism is as much a part of my family as my name. When I say my whole family is religious, I really mean my whole family. My great aunt has been a Catholic nun for more than 50 years…

It’s just, it didn’t click with me. Religion in general just did not click with me. When I started questioning why I believed in this stuff, I really couldn’t find any reasons why I should stick with this religion thing. I just don’t believe.

I know that religion is an extremely personal thing, and to question one’s deeply held beliefs pretty much constitutes blasphemy. But my point, if there is any to this rant, is that there are times you should really question everything that defines your being. You might find out something about yourself that you didn’t know. I cannot believe in pre destiny, I cannot believe that some higher power controls or guides us in our voyage through life. But, like the poet George Bernard Shaw once wrote, “Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself."

Memories...

So, I’ve been 19 for about a month now. Nothing has really changed. I still feel the same way I did when I was 18. But then again, I didn’t really expect anything to change. No one really does. It’s like that one U2 song says, “nothing changes on new years day…” Those who expect things to change just like that are likely to be fickle, anyway…

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about my past. Nothing really special, it’s just that I’ve been dwelling on a few memories more than the others. Nothing really specific, actually. Basic frames of times, I guess. The memories I’ve been dwelling on? Summers from 3rd grade on…

You see, those summers were really the happiest times of my life, I’m beginning to realize just now. Just an overview of what happened those years: in during the summer of 3rd grade, my family and I had just moved into the house I live in now in East Davis. At the time I really hated that we had moved away from all my friends at the old apartment complex. However, as time moved on, I grew to love the situation I was in. I finally had my own room. Across the way lived a beautiful girl the same age as I (but even then totally out of my league). Behind the house being a large park where I could play on the play structure or just ride my bike around. Still, things never were the same because of the two friends I had left behind at the apartment complex. I would never make friends like them again, or so I thought…

The summer of 4th grade. The first summer I had to go to summer camp. I guess my parents thought it was too much of burden to stay home all summer from their jobs, and they probably got tired of seeing me sitting on my ass all the time at home. So, they sent me off to this summer program the CDC (Child Development Center) my school put on every summer. I pretty much hated this place. It took me forever to make friends there. But, by god, I made friends. They were all younger than I was, mostly, but still, it felt good that I was actually socializing with people of the summer instead of just sitting at home and watching cartoons all day long…

The summer of 5th grade. I split time between the CDC summer program and another little camp called Rainbow Summer, going back and forth between the two for reasons I don’t understand why. There, at Rainbow Summer, you were forced to sit outside most of the freaking time. I was at the Rainbow Summer camp located in Community Park in Davis. I guess for that reason, I grew to love this camp better than the CDC one. Indeed, there was this one time where I was at the CDC camp and we were at our bi-weekly trip to Community pool. Since Rainbow Summer also met by there, it was inevitable that I would see them. Of course, I did, and what followed was one of my favorite memories of summer… Not that I will tell you, hahaha…

The summer of 6th grade. I spent the entire summer at Rainbow Summer. I also spent the entire summer waiting for this one girl who I thought would be there that year, since she was there at times last year (the times I was at CDC instead, go figure). Of course, she never showed up. But I still got to see the friends I had made the past year there once more, and made a few more. I never did see that girl again, until 8th grade, when she transferred to Holmes Junior High for some reason. Wow, looking back, that is a whole hell of a long time ago now…

Ok, so that wasn’t really a short recap of what happened…

Anyway, thinking back on those memories made me realize, I haven’t really changed much since then. I mean, I my tastes have changed a little, friends come and gone, but the feelings have stayed the same. It’s like that Maya Angelou saying, “I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” It’s so true, to me at least. I have never forgotten what those times made me feel. They made me feel, well, alive, for lack of a better word. I look back on those times and I weep, I weep because I know that they will never come again. Yet, I also weep because I know that they were the best times of my life up to this point. If I strive to recreate those times, I will fail.

So, what do I do? If I cannot bring back those times, I might as well try to bring back those feelings. Like I said, the situation has changed, but not how I feel. If just for a split second, I could bring those feelings back, I would give the world for it. But I know all I really need to do is live life for what it is. A new time will come when those same feelings will reappear, and I will look back just as I am now and say, “damn.” I can’t pray for it (not that I pray anymore anyway), can’t predict when it will come. But, I will know just as I do now, that there are great times ahead. There will be some bad times too, but how do you know good without the bad?

Am I old? 19 seems a whole hell of a lot older than 18. But, like I said, nothing has really changed. Nothing has changed since I was that 8-year-old boy in 3rd grade. For some reason, I am glad that this is the case. I can look back on that little boy and totally relate to him. Yet, I cannot live in the past. And that is where I am scared. I have been an adult for a whole year now, yet I still think like a child. I guess thinking about your past and analyzing it can be a sign of maturity…

Just to say something final, I will say one thing. There are quite a few things that that little boy never did. One of them being telling that girl how he felt about her. If there is one time good about age, it is that it gives you a little perspective on things. Not that I still have those same feelings for that girl now. I still have those same feelings, just not for her. Yet, I just wonder, what would have happened if I had told her. There is always time to find out…

fuck...

People who know me might notice one little thing, I swear a lot. Some might attribute this to immaturity, others to perceived rebellion. Whenever I hear myself swear, however, I do not feel anything more than it being a natural part of my speech. Yet, when I hear others swear, I cannot help but feel that they are almost a lower being, someone who isn't to be taken as seriously. This just begs me to ask, what do people think about me when I swear?

I still remember "discovering" swear words as a kid. It was in 2nd grade, during the lunch hour, that I had my first real realization that these words were special. I was using this one certain word, a word that my dad had used countless times, to describe how I felt about the taste of the cafeteria food. My friends around me were also casually using this word as well. The use of this word felt invigorating, freeing, and just overall powerful. The way it rolled off the tongue. The fact that no one else was using this word. It was like discovering chocolate or hamburgers (another story for another time) for the first time. A whole new world opened up to me. Yet, that world came crashing down a few minutes later when another kid, a girl who's name I no longer remember, told on us. Well, on me really. She called over the yard narc and told him that I and my friends have been using swear words. The yard narc was pretty cool about it, surprisingly cool looking back, and only told me to stop using that word, its a bad word.

I don't know how we as a society have reserved this one special place for words that supposedly offend people, to the point their use is forbidden in school yards, formal situations, and television. I could look up the etymology of its use and everything, but I feel that would be an exercise in futility. You see, no one really gives a crap. It's all about what it means now.

If you've ever had any sort of cool English teacher, and got them to talk about swear words, you might find out a whole bunch of interesting facts. First and foremost is that the word "fuck" is the most elastic word in the English language, as in, it can be used as a anything from a pronoun to adjective to, of course, a verb. Just look at the ways in which we use the word "fuck"-

"Fuck you!"

"You're a fucking idiot!"

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Who's that fucker over there?"

"I hate that Bill O'Reilly fucker."

"I fucked the hell out of that test."

"That test fucked the hell out of me."

So on and so forth...

A whole fuck load of fucks, huh? Of course, most of people are probably aware of this elasticity. Which brings me to my original question: what do people think of me when I swear?

There are times when I swear that I think back to that first time I was caught swearing and told down. I imagine what it would be like listening to myself as I swear. I must sound like an idiot...

So, I don't know if there is really a point to this rant. But, if there is a point to all this, I think it would be that people have got to stop caring about swear words so much. Sure, to have kids running around saying "fuck" and "shit" and "damn" all the time would be horrible, right? Well, to be honest, most kids already know about these words by 2nd grade, if we use my hardly unique experience as any marker...

...

I need a haircut...


I know my posts are getting really short and uninspired. So, I promise, by the end of the week, there will be a brand new, totally inspired rant about quite a few topics that have been on my mind recently... I promise.

Sometimes, I just want to yell at certain people...

A Void

A Void

There was something I had
to do today. Can't remember
anymore. What a pity.
I know it must have
been important; there's a
tie on my finger, a note
on my wall, a message
on my phone...