The Student Writer's Mind

Dear God and Francesca: A Spoken Word

2012-01-21T23:58:00.000-08:00

This piece explains one of the biggest things to happen to my life in the past few months. Her name was Francesca Garcia. She was my best friend and my "little sister." Everyone was blessed to know her. Please, watch and remember.

Youtube URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9cxqFp4vY5g&list=UU9gBcS35g_SO41mER_OcN7A&index=1&feature=plcp

(Facebook photos and also the video taken belong to their original owners.)

The Catch Up

2012-01-14T22:18:00.000-08:00

The first week of school went by as fast as you can say, “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.” Slowly and gruelingly, work has become a repetitive thing and I don’t know how much longer I can stand people being amazed by the bursting boba.

“Oh my god, are those fish eggs?”

“Excuse me, what are those?”

“Oh, look its caviar.”

Over the summer it was the sweet, red beans that surprised people. I’m slowly losing my sanity. The only people that used to keep me entertained were my co-workers, but now they’ve all moved on or quit. I’m moving up the ladder and becoming a shift leader soon, but I have to show that I’m worth it. It has been difficult for me to maintain a job at night, while being in school in the morning and afternoon.

School.

I’m still trying to get into one of my classes. Due to recent budget cuts, there are over 450 students in a 399 person lecture hall. It’s a shame to see a good school like a University of California have to go through budget cuts. I told the teacher that I will sit in, write notes and take my exam on the floor if it means getting into this classroom. The teacher is funny and always makes sure that his students are paying attention in his class. It’s worth it, even if I have to sit on the floor.

I’m also taking my first creative writing class for the quarter. So far, I’m just reading a few short stories and a book on writing, but near the middle of the quarter is when the creative writing part starts. I’m excited!

Besides that, the other interesting class I’m attending is poetry. Truth be told, I never liked poetry when I wanted to venture into a writing career. I liked characters, stories, adventures, etc. Poetry was too short for my attention span and was just an ounce of feeling compared to the immense connection to the characters that I read about. However, since Rabbits, I’ve learned that poetry is more than any of that. It is life embodied. I told my poetry discussion leader that I was involved with Rabbits and spoken word poetry, which led us to a discussion of his outreach project. He is having this project where he is outreaching to high schools, mostly junior high school students, and holds workshops for them. I thought it was interesting and he said that he didn’t have much experience with spoken word, so he wanted to recruit me if I wasn’t too busy. I told him to sign me up at the end of class. Despite my busy schedule, I want to show poetry to these little kids at an earlier age than when I discovered its true meaning.

As for my fraternity, we’ve been running events all throughout RUSH week. For those of you know who don’t know the fraternity jargon, RUSH week is when a fraternity holds a bunch of events that invite people who might be interested in the fraternity for free, so they can interact with all our members and decide if they want to pledge. We had a big number of sign-ups, but we only ended up taking a group of nine. Nine. I feel like that number is a strong group for the new family that’s going to be born. They will be strong, I can feel it.

Here are some out of the ordinary things that I did this week that weren’t part of my schedule: sent a package to Japan, stayed up finishing an application for RA with my best friend/roommate, partied hard, started an inspiration wall in my room, finished a journal, performed for Uncultivated Rabbits’ First Open Mic of 2012 and Delta Sigma's Culture Cafe, and went to Santa Ana and Pomona.

I’ve also started a side-project of mine that is sort of like journaling, because of a quote that I found recently.

“Buy a blank notebook. Draw a huge heart on the cover. Don’t write anything negative in here. If you need another outlet, make a separate notebook. This one is all about love, personal growth, and getting back up. Fill it with beautiful images, reaffirming thoughts, and quotes. Write in it every day, and each day writing one thing you’re grateful for in your life.” ~ Kim: Advice from a Mermaid in a Manhole

So, I did just that. I’m writing down all the things I’m grateful for and I might share a few here on this blog when I get the chance. I’m also going to try and take some pictures, when I can of my life, because I want to keep some memories here and show you some of the things a student writer such as myself lives. Beautiful, ugly, mundane, special, exciting, and dull. All will be posted.

Lastly, I know that I haven’t been posting things this past week, but it’s been a hell of a juggle. However, I still love all of you readers, because you’re my friends and not only followers. I open up to you and I want to hear how you are all doing, as well. I would love a comment or two about how your weeks are all going.

(All photos came from my facebook and belong to their respective photographers.)

Monsters Like Us: Spoken Word

2012-01-02T19:16:00.000-08:00

Here's a performance I did at an Uncultivated Rabbits open-mic back in October for Halloween. Hope you guys all enjoy! Let me know if I can work on anything! :D

Youtube URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uiCQBE8twCE

Reflections on 2011 and New Year Resolutions: 2012

2011-12-31T18:30:00.000-08:00

Neil Gaiman posts this every new year, so I will continue with that tradition as well, since I posted it exactly last year too! Here's what he has to say, "May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you're wonderful, and don't forget to make some art -- write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself."

I don't even remember how this year started, but I'm remembering how this one is ending because as I said in a few posts a lot has happened in the last few months of 2011. It is taking me great courage to talk to you in these next few weeks, but I know that if I write out my feelings, my thoughts, and everything else (good or bad), it will not only help you understand but also help me.

So, with this new year, I have some new and old resolutions. I followed a few of my resolutions last year, but toward the middle had lost track of them, so I'm deciding to not only type them out here, but I am going to physically write them out and post them in my room. Here they are:

1. Stay connected. Vague, but it holds a lot of meaning to me. I want to stay connected with those I have lost connections with. I know those connections with my friends, family, and even dreams are still there. So, I have to grab hold of those ropes and hold them tight. I'm going to try my best this time around. Usually, I get sidetracked or hit with a mountain of chaos, but this time I'm reminding myself everyday why I have the people around me. It's because I love them and they love me.

2. Write more, read more, be more. Not necessarily in that order. I want to always surpass my expectations. This year I did read a lot, but I know that I can always fit time in my schedule to read more books. I have a problem with buying a lot of books and still have plenty to read on my bookshelf. But some people don't understand that I like to digest what I read and that there is a time and place for every book in my life. When I need inspiration, I turn to Gaiman. When I need an adventure, I turn to manga or comics. When I need a thrill, I walk on over to Stephen King's universe. As for writing, I've been really working on my poetry and it has open my eyes to a different way of looking and feeling to the world, but I want to return to the stories and characters that I once loved. As for being more, I want to always shoot to be the best at what I do, so I'm going to try and be actively involved in something--I don't know what yet--but something! Neil Gaiman told me to surprise myself in the future, so that's what I'm going to do!

3. Stay healthy. I'm not going to lie to you, dear readers, but I have gained some weight over the last months. Not too much though! I gained just a few pounds over the winter break because I didn't want to workout too much and needed some relaxation. However, it's back on the treadmill and bike for me! Boy, the gyms are going to be packed because this resolution tends to be a popular one among people here in California!

4. I've learned to be independent over this year, but I believe that's really impossible to be independent. We need everyone to do something. To get a job, we need someone to hire us. To eat, we need someone to serve us or we need someone to buy from. So, in my mind, there is no such thing as independence, because we are social creatures and can't afford to or can't be alone.

5. Learn. This is called the Student Writer's Mind, because one will always be a student. Even though I'm a student now, we are all still students, regardless of a classroom or not. We learn things everyday. I want to be able to continue on learning new things and my friends, family, and anyone new will help me along the way.

If you have any New Year Resolutions that you want to share, I would love to hear them. I wish you, dear readers, the best year possible as always! :3

A Mental Snack (62): Tragedy

2011-12-28T17:33:00.000-08:00

Share your thoughts, share your stories...

"Does it break my heart, of course, every moment of every day, into more pieces than my heart was made of, I never thought about things at all, everything changed, the distance that wedged itself between me and my happiness wasn't the world, it wasn't the bombs and burning buildings, it was me, my thinking, the cancer of never letting go, is ignorance bliss, I don't know, but it's so painful to think, and tell me, what did thinking ever do for me, to what great place did thinking ever bring me? ~ Jonathan Safran Foer, Extermely Loud and Incredibly Close

Have you ever been struck by a tragedy? How did you react and what happened? How are you dealing with it today?

Christmas Time

2011-12-26T19:42:00.000-08:00

In observation of Christmas, the blog will resume back on Wednesday with a Mental Snack. Thank you! :3 So, Merry Christmas to you all and I hope you all are having fun with your family and friends!

A Mental Snack (61)

2011-12-21T15:37:00.000-08:00

Share your thoughts...

"With writing, we have second chances." ~ Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything Is Illuminated

What does writing mean to you? What do you think Foer means by writing gives us second chances?

Stitching the Pieces

2011-12-19T00:36:00.000-08:00

Dreams flourish. Dreams grow. Dreams happen. Dreams die.

Everyone knows what a dream is, but can’t explain it. Dreams sound like plants. Dreams can be compared to balloons holding our thoughts and waiting to explode. Dreams sound human. Dreams are human and are the closest thing to being human. They are things that makes us, us.

I have dreams just like you. That’s why this blog was created. That’s why this is being written. I have suffered many tragedies in my life since I was born and many these past few months, but who hasn’t. What makes my story different? What makes me so different or so special? These endless questions have always bothered me to the point of sleepless nights and waking nightmares.

I had the dream to be a writer. I still do. But, I haven’t written anything in a while and I’m being honest. You, dear reader, probably noticed that these posts became less and less frequent. I began looking at writing less as fun and more as a task. I rushed into the chaos of college life dealing with problems in school, family, friends, finances, etc. And writing used to be my escape from my problems, but back then I viewed it just as another thing added to the list and it was taking too much of my time.

I’m trying to stitch everything back together in my life, but it is difficult when there are this many broken pieces, in so many different places. It feels like I’m trying to put back together three different puzzles that are all in the same pile. I’ve changed and have gained more responsibilities also, but that won’t deter me away this time. There are more people in my life, more that have distanced themselves, and I will tell you about them. The real and fictional.

Now, where did my writing go?

Did my dreams of becoming a writer die? Did my dreams get lost among all the crap being thrown at me? Are they gone forever?

No.

I’m writing again. I’m writing this.

But the most important thing is: I’m trying again. Looking for “it” again. Please bare with me. You’ve been here for a while and the fact that you’re reading this brings me great joy. I’m going to start writing again. Let me to tell you my story and the story of a few others, because I’ve left you in the dark for some time and I’m sorry for that. I’ve brought a new light and an old dream. Lend me your ears.

I have to tell you about this blank year on the blog and all that’s gone on. Welcome to the Student Writer’s Mind, again.

A Mental Snack (60)

2011-07-06T17:00:00.000-07:00

Share your thoughts...

"So, I guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons. And maybe we'll never know most of them. But even if we don't have power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there. We can still do things. And we can try to feel okay about them." ~ Stephen Chbosky

Do you believe in Destiny? Would you say that the only constant in life is change? What is your current path or something you want to do with your life? And how was it forged?

Song: "Perfect Situation" by Weezer

Youtuber URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jwv-iRvyDZg

The Fourth of July

2011-07-04T11:39:00.000-07:00

There will be no post today in honor of the Fourth of July. Happy Independence Day, everyone!!! Watch out for where you stick those fireworks! :3

"Convenience Stores" by Buddy Wakefield

2011-07-02T09:56:00.000-07:00

I just watched this video on a friend's facebook wall and had to share it. It's a spoken word about a truck driver, a gas station convenience store worker, and how their lives are alike. I think this video deserves a post for itself. It amazes me at some of the metaphors and similes Buddy Wakefield uses in his poetry. Try to take a gander at this video and if you want, write out your thoughts in the comment section. Thank you!

Spoken Word: Convenience Stores by Buddy Wakefield
Video URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lKaI8DE8AKs

Song of the Day: "Paris Nights/ New York Mornings" by Corinne Bailey Rae
Youtube URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J2OLBhVua5c

A Mental Snack (59)

2011-06-29T09:16:00.000-07:00

Share your thoughts...

"The first time someone shows you who they are, believe them." ~ Maya Angelou

What's your opinion on first impressions? Does your first impression of a person always stick or does it change as you get to know the person?

Song: "Iron" by Woodkid

Youtube URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vSkb0kDacjs

Video:

Performing "19" at the Uncultivated Rabbits Open-Mic

2011-06-27T16:20:00.000-07:00

Here's a video of me performing "19" at the Uncultivated Rabbits final open-mic of the year. It was held outside because we couldn't fit our audience in the tiny little Ring Room that we usually acquire for open-mics. Yeah, it was that big of a crowd. Over a hundred people showed up! Enjoy! :)

Youtube URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zPU5i_XisXc&feature=channel_video_title

Song: "Never Gonna Leave This Bed" by Maroon 5

Youtube URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ADmCFmYLns4

19: A Spoken Word Piece

2011-06-25T13:10:00.000-07:00

(This poem was performed at the last open mic for Uncultivated Rabbits, at the Sierra Banquet, and Delta Sigma Talent Show.)

This poem is about the man on the microphone,

Who spits and admits that he has no home

Except in those buildings that he creates in people’s minds

Inception

Tension as the sweat drips from his forehead onto the wooden floors of his stage,

Which he has graced with not only his presence but his stories,

Standing tall as the mic absorbs all that he speaks

And he whispers to the people who listen to why he doesn’t have a place to stay.

“I—

I do not have a physical home,

I am a tenant in people’s hearts and souls

My vehicle into getting inside is this thing that stands before me—

This microphone

Which phones people’s psyches

My voice rides into people’s ears on sound waves

Splashes them with my thoughts, stories, and opinions

Can you hear them?

Telling you something that you always wanted to hear

Or needed to hear

Maybe

But couldn’t find it anywhere else.

I want to tell you some things that I’ve learned from only living nineteen years,

You probably know some or all, but it doesn’t hurt to remember again.

One. Every time a person is born in this universe, a star is born in the sky. And when that person dies, the star still survives and that’s where their soul goes. Living in the night sky and watching those people that he or she remembered while they are living.

Two. Love can never be defined. Liking someone is not really love, it’s just a crush, infatuation, or obsession. At least, that’s how I’ve learned to see it. But seeing isn’t the same thing as defining.

Three. Hate shouldn’t exist, but it does. And it consumes some people. Don’t let it eat you and turn your insides as black as a furnace.

Four. I’m not a poet. I’m not God. I’m not even a man yet. I’m just a boy.

Five. Don’t let time stop you from anything even though you feel as though you are trapped in that hourglass that’s filling up with sand. Make time, for your friends by hanging out with them and having a few drinks and a couple of laughs. Put some things aside for your family, because they were the people who were closest to you first and cared for you the second you were conceived.

Six. Remember you are human.

Seven. Luckiest number of them all. And how many wishes did we make together? How many wishes actually came true? On genies, fairy godparents, lit birthday candles, eleven-eleven’s, and prayers. How many times did we wish we can go back home again? Go back to a time we had before. A time machine to revisit our happiest of memories, but knowing that we were trapped in the present and the clock’s hands seemed to grab us and never ever could let us go.

Eight. It’s never too late to right a wrong. Forgiving is difficult. Sorry is just one of those words that you can’t help but say, but make it count with your actions.

Nine. They say that three hugs a day makes a happier person. Hug someone as much as you can and never let go. Imagine how many times you wished someone back alive just to feel their touch again. Embrace those that are still there, while they are still there. You don’t have to limit yourself to hugs either. Hug. Kiss. Hold hands. Put your head on their shoulders and let their heads rest on yours.

Ten. Writing is not easy when you strip yourself in front of an audience that watches you, judges you, for what you say. So,

Eleven. Take criticism as long as it’s constructive. Know that some people will just criticize for the sake of criticizing.

Twelve. Believe in yourself.

Thirteen. Believe in yourself even more. It has to be repeated to really sink into that mind of yours.

Fourteen. Don’t let the media be the thing that creates what is successful and what is not. You don’t need six-pack abs, a tan, to be skinny, wear certain clothes, to be a lawyer, doctor, or engineer, to be successful.

Fifteen. My definition of success is happiness. So, smile for me and I’ll know you’re doing something right.

Sixteen. As these years go by and the going gets tough, learn to wipe the dirt off your knees like when you were a baby and learning how to crawl before you knew how to walk. If you fall, just get up. Easier said than done and actions speak louder than words, so scream out your actions as you do them.

Seventeen. You will get lost. Guaranteed once, but it doesn’t have to be a lifetime guarantee. So, find your way out by yourself or with the help of others. Never be shy to snatch that other person’s hand. There is a reason why it’s there.

Eighteen. Know that being sensitive, doesn’t mean you are weak.

Nineteen. The number of years that it took for me to know most of this, but I still have a lot to go. An endless road, a path, a journey, where the destination doesn’t matter and only that I’m happy. So, now I’ll take a deep breath, breathe, and believe.

I look back and notice all those homes that I built along the way

Inside of people’s hearts,

And how I became a part of them

By putting myself out there

And walking on these streets for years,

I’ve learned to do all of this, share my stories, and even though those are the things that I passed,

I still look back

And grin

Knowing what I have accomplished and take another step forward, into another year.”

The man on the microphone walks off stage,

But his story, his rhymes, his words still remain.

Song: "The Best of Times" by Sage Francis

Youtube URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VA8hzUDXvtk

A Mental Snack (58)

2011-06-22T06:34:00.000-07:00

Share your thoughts...

"Sometimes people are beautiful.Not in looks. Not in what they say. Just in what they are." ~ Markus Zusak

What defines beauty for you? Who are some of the beautiful people in your lives?

Song: "Closer" by Corinne Bailey Rae

Youtube URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5lrL1juplpY

The Return

2011-06-20T09:04:00.000-07:00

I’m back.

A lot has changed since the last time you probably saw me (or heard from me, in this case). I’ve changed physically, mentally, emotionally, and any other way possible. But I think I’ve told you all before, change is the only constant in life, right?

I have been through a lot of things and a few personal battles within myself. It took me a lot of courage to start writing again, so sorry if I’m a bit rusty. I’m trying to pick up the pen again and write those stories, but it’s going to take some time. I’ve been writing in my journal though, but that doesn’t really count as creative writing in my mind. I’m just cataloging the events that go on in my life every few days, so I don’t forget what happened. Little by little, one word at a time, I’ll write my stories down.

I’ve crossed over—in a fraternity, that is! It’s a brand, spankin’ new fraternity on the Irvine campus known as Delta Sigma and I pledged for ten weeks. I wanted to try something new and branch out from Sierra, because I knew that my hall was soon going to disperse. I took the advice of several Sierran alumni and chose to branch out by pledging to this multicultural fraternity. It’s different from the party fraternities that you see on television and it’s not Greek. D-Sig is a co-ed and doesn’t have a “little” system like other fraternities, but a family system. We’ve done several fun events like tight-rope walking, a retreat to San Pedro, and salsa dancing. I’ve made new friends and hope to be a bigger part of Delta Sigma in the near future.

(Picture of Delta Sigma taken by Steve Nasser)

Because of Delta Sigma, I’ve also have a new girlfriend as well. She is beautiful, smart, funny, cute, adorable, wise, and this big bundle of joy that you just want to take home with you. I wrote several poems about her and she has become my muse. She’s one of the people that helps me write this today.

School, school, school. A big part of my life, especially since I was living on campus. The Sierra class of 2010-2011 has been dispersed all throughout campus. Some have remained behind as S.P.’s (Sierra Programmers) and others have gone to do better things, but still keep in contact with everyone else. A new batch of Sierrans are going to come in the fall and we’ll all meet up again, as many of us as we can muster, to greet the new Sierrans and tell them all the good times we had in the hall. Sierra lives on in all our hearts and memories, even though we don’t live physically in the building anymore.

(Picture of Sierra taken by Alex Kim)

Also, my grades have kind of suffered though because of this quarter. I’ve had trouble keeping up with some of the more difficult classes and am now pursuing a second major in Psychology and Social Behavior along with my English degree. It’s become tough to juggle classes, social life, and my health but I’m going to pull myself out of this rut someway, somehow!

Speaking of health, I need to get back into shape. I’ve remained the same weight, but I want to lose some more chub-chub, gain a few muscles, and try to tone my body. So, I’ll be working on that as well this summer.

Besides all of this, I want to add a new addition to the blog. After every post, I’m going to post a video of a song from Youtube that I really enjoy. Music has always been a part of our lives since we’ve been born, especially to me, since I’ve been in college. Hearing a sweet voice at times, that knows how you feel at that very same moment, singing in those headphones, has really helped me throughout the year. So, I want to post a video after every piece now to share some of my favorite songs with you, my dear readers. Let me know your favorites by that same artist or bands that are similar. Maybe we can discuss topics about lyrics or beats and start a conversation going?

Lastly, I would like to thank all those who have stuck by me for this hiatus and didn’t leave me behind. So, thank you friends, family, followers, and everyone else. I love you all and I thank you for the support. It’s good to be back! :3

Song of the Day: "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" by Israel "IZ" Kamakawiwo'ole

Youtube URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V1bFr2SWP1I

Issues

2011-04-18T17:44:00.000-07:00

I've been going through some personal problems and the level of stress right now it's reaching it's peak. I have decided that for right now, I need to go on a bit of a hiatus with my posts. I'm sorry and I hope you understand. Thank you.

Concrete Streets Performance

2011-04-16T23:46:00.000-07:00

Here's my performance of Concrete Streets at an event at UCI with Nghiem, the vice president of the Uncultivated Rabbits, which was before a Blue Scholars concert on campus. Let me know what you think!

Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9fFmiKDNPbo&feature=channel_video_title

A Mental Snack (57)

2011-04-13T14:01:00.000-07:00

Share your thoughts...

"Dare to step out of your comfort zone today." ~ Joel Olsteen

What's one time you stepped out of your comfort zone, good or bad?

Boogeyman: A Spoken Word Piece

2011-04-11T21:57:00.000-07:00

(This is a small piece I wrote for Take Back the Night on campus, but since I didn't get a time slot with the Uncultivated Rabbits for the event, I'll just share the piece on here. It relates the men, who sexually assault women, to the boogeyman.)

Let me tell you something that you would've never guessed,

The boogeyman exists

Just as much as shadows

He crawls up behind you

Wearing human skin

Has sincere eyes but they are placed in his skull to shine like jewels to deceive because they are fake.

He tricks women into falling into bed with him

You think there is nothing up his sleeves

He hypnotizes and stuns them with fear

He has these long hands that are as cold as the dead’s

He whispers the things girls love to hear but they all mean nothing to him

He steals more than their hearts

He burglarizes their bodies

Taking away their passion, their feelings, and leaving them with nothing

Except in the dark and wanting to go back home or time way before they ever saw the beast.

The boogeyman exists,

He lives even after he disappears

Inside your head

Infecting your mind

Repeating those memories, those nightmares, and that night,

He is a monster come to life--

And you begin to see him everywhere

Across the streets or behind you in the mirror

There waiting for another round

Smiling and licking his mouth

Can’t help but try and forget that night and the sounds of screams

And the powerful wishing for it to stop,

And how everything went all wrong.

Breathing is heavier than it ever was before,

Lungs feel like they are about to explode like dynamite inside,

Your mind swallows all that has just occurred

Because you just saw a real-life monster.

The boogeyman exists

But now instead of living in the outside world

He takes residence inside of you

And will forever be there until you vanquish him

Like the way you did when you were a little kid

By taking it one step at a time

Hiding underneath the blankets won’t protect you this time

Turning on the lights might help,

But the only real way to stop him

The only real way of keeping him away

Is to beat him at his own game,

Make him frightened of you

By being stronger than him

You have to stop hiding underneath those sheets

Have to stop wishing

And start doing

By becoming stronger and fighting off the monster

Admit you were defeated once,

But know that you will thrive again

Like a blossoming flower against the snow, the wind, and everything else

You will eventually bloom

You will outstand all those others

By speaking your mind

By letting go of the monster on your back

In your mind and in your eyes,

All it takes is to move your lips, breathe, and speak

Tell others your stories

Warn them of the boogeyman

Because he exists,

But not underneath the bed or in your closet anymore

He lives on the streets

Disguised as us,

Real human beings.

Who is the boogeyman for you?

Untitled: Cute, Innocent Love Poem

2011-04-09T22:47:00.000-07:00

(Lately, I haven't been one for cute, lovey-dovey poems or just love in general because I'm still trying to figure out what that means, but here's one from a while back that I wrote about some random girl that I met and had a few good times with.)

I want to write a love poem for you,

But I don’t think every word in this language and every language in the world is enough

To describe how much I really like you.

How about a picture then,

They say a picture is a thousand words,

But to describe you for what you really are,

For who you truly are,

I would have to take a billion of a million pictures with a trillion photographers and painters,

Just to describe one side of you

And for those of you wondering,

That’s a lot of zeros.

But I’m not good at painting or photography,

So I have to stick with just words for right now

And might as well start with those words that I know

And I’ll start with English,

Move my way into Armenian,

Learn all the romantic tongues

And work my way down to the dead languages, like Latin

So, here it goes—

Your eyes are gentle and are like dark lakes that have a glimmer of light as if the moon was reflecting in the darkest of night,

Your eyes seem like that they can pull anyone in and they ripple every time you see a familiar friend,

They shake and you open the door to your soul whenever you have your eyes meet someone else’s

You invite them into your mind.

You took me in one time—

But I never got out.

You know how to write, you know how to paint, you create music for everyone to hear

You want to make a noise

So people can hear you,

But you don’t like all the attention

Because you’re shy

And I find it funny every time

That you burst out into laughter

And turn as red as the beautiful rose that you are,

And the way that you crinkle your nose

When you think something is up between the two of us,

Especially on my side

Because you know I always want to surprise you with something new.

And I love how you stand up

And always want to try something new

Like really exciting and spontaneous things that actually kind of scare me,

But it’s okay as long as I’m with you,

But do we really have to go bungee jumping or wave riding?

Sky diving is cool with me as long as I can share my parachute with you.

And you know how to listen,

Your ears point up as soon as you hear a voice

You take all their words into memory

Imagine the stories that they are telling you

Give them advice and make them find their way again through the dark

All they have to see are those glimmering whites in your black eyes

And they’ll find their way out of the shadows

Because your eyes are like lanterns.

Your hands are not soft, but rough

From all those battle-scars you hold,

And when they grasp mine they are warm

But I didn’t mind holding them

And dancing with you.

Oh, and dancing,

That’s another thing you just so happen to be good at too,

So passionate that even though the guy is supposed to lead,

You started to lead me,

I was about to do some twirls and spins,

But you stopped me with a smile

And said that you will follow me.

You think you are weird,

But I think that we are all a little bit kooky on the inside,

I’m especially crazy around you

But that’s just my normal self,

Because I know that I can trust you enough to see the real me.

And we do have those endless talks,

But they are always about something new

And something deep to think about,

And sometimes I end up running my mouth

But I love how I got to know you

And you got to know me

And yet there is still that hint of mystery behind each of our histories,

But there is still time

To figure out all the pieces of each other and

All the secrets between us

So just give it more time.

Every time I’m around you I’m nervous,

And after all of this,

I still haven’t admitted a single word

Of how much I really want us to date,

How much I want us to be together,

But right now, let’s just keep it like this,

Because I don’t want to screw anything up,

But yeah, this is only the first part of the story

And I have a few more languages to continue it in,

So now, onto Armenian!

What is love to you? It can be a symbol, action, sign, something that happened in your life, anything.

A Mental Snack (56)

2011-04-06T13:01:00.000-07:00

Share your thoughts...

"The unreal is more powerful than the real. Because nothing is as perfect as you can imagine. Because its only intangible ideas, concepts, beliefs, fantasies that last. Stone crumbles. Wood rots. People, well, they die. But things as fragile as a thought, a dream, a legend, they can go on and on. If you can change the way people think. The way they see themselves. The way they see the world. You can change the way people live their lives. That's the only lasting thing you can create." Chuck Palahniuk, Choke

What do you think is immortal? What is something you've done that you think will last a very long time, whether it is an action, piece of art, etc?

Concrete Streets: Spoken Word

2011-04-04T19:43:00.000-07:00

“What do you believe?”

A girl asked me

One time

In a moment of my life

When most of my beliefs disappeared like the way the dust disperses in the wind

And I didn’t know how to respond or answer

So, I hesitated and gave myself some time to think about the question by asking her what it was that she meant,

And she said to answer the question as I see fit,

“So, what do you believe in, Stitch?”

I thought of a lot of things while I stared at my own two feet

I told her that I believed in concrete streets

Things that I can touch and that I can see,

Things like human beings and their capabilities

To do both good and bad

I believe in the angels that live on these streets,

Because angels are people like you and me,

They don’t live in the sky,

They live and they die,

Perform miracles almost every day

By smiling and saying the right thing to the right person and giving a hug when it’s needed.

They take their time and make it someone else’s

Sacrifice themselves but not for God but for you and I,

And they don’t have wings or halos that we can see,

Their wings are not made out of feathers but out of the hands behind their backs from all those people that they helped and touched,

Those hands are things that lift them up

Higher than the sky,

And they fly into people’s memories and swim through people’s minds,

Where they can live forever,

See those hands on their backs are the things that make them more divine,

They have the support of all those that they never left behind,

Their halos are bigger than their heads and it is the circle of people in their lives that encompass them,

These angels are greater than you ever imagined.

And the more that you believe, the more you begin to see what their halos and wings look like and what makes them so divine and so different from you and I.

And then I told her, “You know there’s a chance that we can become street angels too,

All we have to do is smile and press our own hands against people’s backs

Help support them and become their crutch when they need us,

Do things like offer our place in line or sacrifice our time to help others,”

But the girl stopped me there,

Shook her head and said,

“What about the devils of the streets?”

And I told her that just as much as angels exist, devils do too,

They live to kill and to destroy all those things that human beings and street angels create,
They rather solve problems with violence and guns,

Rather sacrifice others than themselves,

And their horns are made from all those bones that they broke,

And their tongues are cut into two from all those lies that that they spoke,

Their tails are those chains that they carry in the back of their pockets that don’t hold wallets but are used to choke people’s throats,

Their eyes are bloodshot and yellow from all those injections that they took filling themselves with all sorts of drugs that cloud their minds and make them think they are flying when they are not,

Their skin is the color of red painted by all the blood that they spread on those very same streets that they live in,

They call themselves kings and sit on make believe thrones,

But if you live there, it really isn’t a place you can call home,

But a nightmarish hell even the devil wouldn’t want.

And then the girl asked me,

“Who will win between the two?”

I told her that it isn’t a competition or a game,

Because people’s lives are at stake,

And just as much as angels can live and die,

Devils aren’t immortal-

They make mistakes and they can fall,

Everyone sheds blood and tears

And they all know the true meaning of fear,

They know how to feel, how to love, and how to hate

They just strayed down the wrong path and it’s never too late, because they can always come back from where they are

And switch sides as soon as they want,

Because they have that choice

To start building those wings made out of hands

And break off those horns and make them into halos,

Sew that tongue of two with a thread of truth,

Wash off the blood that colors their skin

And break those chains of punishment.

The girl stopped me again,

And asked me, “Can street angels become devils too?”

I sighed and said it works for both sides.

And that she just needs to realize what’s right.

Maybe not until we die

And maybe a few more generations later

When they all see how much of the streets actually bled

And see how many bodies were lined in chalk,

How many of their friends would actually fall,

How many graves they would count until it even outnumbered the stars

And wishing that they would’ve done something sooner,

And then, only then, they will notice it all,

They will notice their horns and their tails,

They will notice their wings and halos,

They will put their differences aside

And make it a fight

But not against each other or one another

But fixing what they had done and start cleaning up those streets

At least, that’s what I believe.

I believe that the only things immortal are those streets and its history,

I believe that angels and devils can coexist,

But they have to understand each other’s differences

And comprehend that they can all do right and all do wrong

I believe that we need to stop all the fighting and crying

I believe that we need to stand tall like those street lights that illuminate these streets at night,

Rise up against all the hate and discrimination across the streets of the nation

And build a better future for tomorrow

By starting today.

I believe in sharing these beliefs not between you and me

But with the entire world

And that’s what I believe.

And I also believe that you, you can share this story too

So start singing, whispering, talking, laughing, and screaming in the streets for what you believe in.

Because, I believe in peace.”

What do you believe?

Journal Writing and the Fear of Forgetting

2011-04-02T13:48:00.000-07:00

Writing a journal isn’t the easiest thing for me. I’ve attempted and reattempted many times, but I never got around to it until this year, when I was required to do it for a class. It’s a great way of keeping track of my memories, my anxieties, my ideas, what’s going on in my life at the time, and just another way to release some of the demons of my mind onto the page.

And I think I’ll keep up the habit of writing a journal until the end of my undergraduate year of college, so I could look back on how much I’ve grown, how much I’ve been through, how much I’ve seen, and all that’s in between.

I have already snuck a peek at it once or twice and couldn’t believe some of things that I had forgotten. You know I always had this feeling in the back of my mind that somehow I’m going to contract some sort of memory losing disease and never remember who I am, what I have done, who I am friends with, or my family. Being all alone in the world with nothing or no one is probably one of my greatest fears in life, which is probably why I save all my adventures down in my journal or on my blog, which is why I collect all this junk on my Memory Wall, or why I try to remember everyone’s name that I meet.

I have the fear of forgetting.

I’ve written probably a handful of stories of people with no pasts or who had lost their pasts along the way of their journeys. They try to get by and make themselves new lives and I guess I truly look up to people who can do that to survive. I don’t think I can ever be capable of doing that. My characters are composed of the people I’ve met in my life, in fiction and in reality that I admire.

So, keeping a journal was always a tough thing to do because I didn’t want to write in it every day and fill it up with useless information, so I decided to write down only the necessities or major things that I’m going through. However, I think I’ve hit a speed bump on this road to journal writing, which I’m sure that some other journal writers have hit as well.

I can’t seem to write anymore in the journal. I feel unmotivated and lost. I have all these thoughts that I want to put on the page, but I can’t seem to organize them down into words. I just wish that I could pull out the words from my brain, heart, and tongue and slather the page with all those memories and thoughts, but I am hesitant. As soon as my pen lightly dots the page and I’m prepared to write a word— I just freeze. The lines start to look like prison bars. The pen is glued to my hand, but won’t write a single word.

And I tell myself, “You can write.”

But I doubt those three words. My anxiety has reached its peak. One of my friends, Dalia, advised me to try and wait it out with the journal writing. So, that’s what I’m planning on doing. Sometimes good things come to those who wait, right?

Do you keep a journal or diary? How do you feel about it?

A Mental Snack (55)

2011-03-30T16:19:00.000-07:00

Share your thoughts...
"Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night." ~ Rainer Maria Rilke

Listen and look outside your window for a moment. What do you see or hear in the night where you live?

A Love/Hate Letter Between Pen and Paper

2011-03-28T21:35:00.000-07:00

Image Link: http://www.wvswrite.com/03_White_Papers.html

(So, today in Uncultivated Rabbits, the spoken word/poetry club at UCI, we had a workshop based on a letter between two inanimate objects, which was inspired by the Sarah Kay poem, "A Love Letter..." I worked with a good friend of mine named Jordon and we ended up creating this piece about the relationship between a paper and pen. Let us know what you think!)

Paper: Dear Pen,
Pen: Dear Paper,

Pen: I love flowing my juices onto you,
   But you make me bleed,
   Can't you see that maybe this relationship was meant to be.

Paper: As you write on top of me,
   Your tip spewing your luscious thoughts
   Down my body
   Penetrating boldly, tracing the letters on my skin,
   By the end of this love game, you will win
   The prize -- your thoughts, your words, your everything in me--
   I mean, on!

Pen: I love how you easily give in,
Paper: I love how you easily take

Both: But, there is a problem

Pen: You cut and make me run dry
Paper: You scratch and sometimes tear

Pen: I've moved onto other pages
Paper: You've used me up until there's no more,
   And made me your whore,
   Watched as you moved onto the next sheet
   Leaving me behind with your thoughts, your words, your everything.
   I am just trash.

Pen: I'm sorry this is the end for the both of us,
   Hopefully, we'll go our separate ways and
   Maybe I'll revisit you someday.

Paper: It is not you who is done with me,
   I'm done with you,
   So, I hope not to see you soon.

Both at the same time:
Pen: Sincerely,
Pen
P.S. I love you.

Paper: Sincerely,
Paper.
P.S. Fuck you.

Here's a link to Sarah Kay's "A Love Letter...": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BIAQENsqcuM

Every Word Counts

2011-03-26T12:31:00.000-07:00

Every word counts. I learned this working on a new spoken word piece of mine, while listening to professional spoken word artists perform their pieces on Youtube for some inspiration. Hearing them made me realize how each of their words was carefully picked to get a specific reaction out of the audience. It’s interesting how much I learned from spoken word that I didn’t really learn from any other writing form or book. I feel as though all of my works that I have written before today are flimsy in their word choice with a lot of and’s, but’s, just’s, and other excessive words that could easily be cut out to make my writing more streamlined.

However, after cutting out so many words from the piece, it looks like a skeleton of its former self. When revising over something, one has to find a middle ground between the fluff and the skeleton. Seems obvious, right? Well, I feel like I still find myself using excessive words and losing what the real piece is talking about after a while.

Have you ever had any trouble with revising or cutting out certain phrases or words from your writing?

Here are a few spoken word pieces that are carefully worded and beautifully written.

Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jAxYk3EQhEk

Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mVHzmkUvefw

Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_rTE5eXosos

A Mental Snack (54)

2011-03-23T14:08:00.000-07:00

Share your thoughts...

"You have your way. I have my way. As for the right way, the correct way, and the only way, it does not exist." ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

Name one time you were wrong. Write out a time when you were lost down a path and found your way out.

*Sorry for the delay on posts! I was really busy with finals last week and celebrating my birthday with family and friends. Regular posting will now continue on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. Enjoy this week's Mental Snack and share your stories!

Open-Mic (2): Love Shot

2011-03-12T12:40:00.000-08:00

I performed on Monday as an "official member" of the Uncultivated Rabbits, the spoken word group at the UCI campus, for my first open-mic with a spoken word piece that I memorized. I admit that I screwed up in the beginning and that I was shaking, but I pulled it off in the end. I feel as though with the Rabbits keep pushing me to do up my game through their positive attitudes and the atmosphere that they bring with them. I'm truly glad that I found them and in a way, they found me.

So, here's the video of that performance and I hope you enjoy it. Let me know any more suggestions on what I can change and help me improve on. The last group of comments, which were mostly on Facebook, really did help me on this performance, so thank you to all of my friends that helped me with the constructive criticism and comments. And thank you everyone for reading and watching!

Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C3qmsp9Gkzg

(This video is brought to you by the Uncultivated Rabbits and Kevin Mai. Thank you!)

*Also, I won't be doing posts for this week because my computer is starting to really hate me and keeps freezing and finals are coming up. I'll see you all in a week!

A Mental Snack (53)

2011-03-09T16:50:00.000-08:00

Share your thoughts...

"You can't force creativity, you'll hate yourself for doing so. It all comes in waves, like life, but the key is being true to yourself. As long as you accomplish that, then the creativity will flow." ~ John O'Callaghan

Have you ever forced creativity or anything and not been true to yourself? Share one time when you were true to yourself and you were happy with the result. : )

The Love Shot

2011-03-07T17:52:00.000-08:00

Here's a spoken word piece that I performed earlier today for an open-mic. This is my first spoken-word piece ever and it touches on a very personal thing that happened to me awhile ago. A video of my performance will be up soon and thanks to the Uncultivated Rabbits for the videos and everything!

I am addicted and want to get off,

Go cold turkey and stop

From this drug that is you.

The way it begins is through a simple thought:

I want to talk to you,

Get to know you,

See you in a different light than any other person in this world and in this room,

Make you my friend,

Make you into something more than just another relationship,

Treat you right unlike any other guy,

Just like this,

Blood begins to run in my veins faster than any other highway,

And every time I see you smile it’s like a diamond’s shine,

And every time you speak, your voice is a sweet melody to my ears

And always something I wish to hear,

Like the way you wish me a good night or a good day

Even though I want to stay awake

And never go to sleep

Because I want to always be with you.

No dream or fantasy can compare to the reality

Of having pillow talks and sweet whispers

Of lying in the grass among flowers

Of skipping stones and breaking the spines of leaves as we walk down these streets linking hands

And wishing that time can stop so we can live in this moment forever.

However, like I said, I want to get off,

I want to live,

Go back to the way it was before

But I can’t handle it anymore,

Can’t handle the constant thoughts

Can’t the handle the constant knots

In my stomach

The heavy breathing that goes on deep inside my lungs,

Because I can’t bear the thought of knowing that you are a cheat.

You tore my heart into shreds

And as I'm thinking of all those memories that are being washed down a drain that is already clogged with a million different other things,

I ask myself: How can you do this to me?

I can’t sleep or eat without thinking of how we used to be together

And your favorite foods on plastic spoons driven into your mouth by my guiding hand,

And I can’t be in the same room with you even for a second or I’ll get mad

Because just the mere thought of seeing you will make me explode into a fit of rage

Because I knew we had something

And you lost it,

Like a gift I have given you, you took my heart, and ended up breaking it like a cheap toy,

And now, I am just another boy, lost and now alone on this road with no one else,

But I’ll find my way by myself,

Because wasn’t that how I started in the beginning?

So, I walk down the path of forgetting all that we had and all that used to be,

Go down the reverse way of Memory Lane,

Wipe those streets clean

And tear down that pedestal that I built for you

And now, you’re just another girl too.

Another girl in my eyes and just walking by

Down the street or across that corner

And not a girl I can believe in any longer

Because of the way you treated me and threw me away

Told me we could still be friends but erased me off the face of the planet

So, now it's my turn to erase you.

You can keep my boxers, my shirts, my necklaces, and all those materialistic things

But I request one thing back:

My heart.

Which I gave to you from the start,

Which wasn’t probably a good idea

But, we all make mistakes, right?

So, I’ll take back that beating thing

Get it off your hands

Because frankly I don’t think you deserve it

For beating it into a pulp the way that you did,

So, thanks for all that—scratch that, there are no thank you’s for what you did,

There are only you’s because you were the problem to begin with,

There’s no good in my good bye’s either because there was nothing good about it,

Because you left me a broken man,

So just leave

From my sight and from my mind,

Go away forever

And walk down that same road that I walked for

For so many years

Trying to figure out what I did wrong

When it was all along

Your fault.

I am off the drug that they call love

But I revisit it every once and again

Seeing that cute girl in the corner of my eye

And instead

Of wishing to be with that girl that I had before,

I will talk to this other girl

Just for a moment and speak one or two words

Maybe a “Hi” or a “Hey”

Wave my hand and maybe develop something by the end of the day,

But you know, I still wear my heart on my sleeve

So I have to be wary

Keep my eyes in their sockets,

Make sure my adrenaline doesn't skyrocket

And tuck that broken glued-together heart,

Somewhere this new girl can’t see

So, I put it back in me, where it belongs, in its place,

Underneath my skin, my nerves endings, and inside that forest of bones,

And never to be shown

So easily ever again,

But will be released and she will amend

All those things that the first girl took away and crushed,

I’ll let her inside

And have her play operation with my heart and mind,

Because there’s no way I’m just going to give them to her.

She has to release it and grasp it gently

Because there’s a chance that it might escape from her hands

But I’m sure it will be in her grasp for awhile

If she knows how to treat me right, the road that we walk won’t have to be alone or won’t be for miles and miles,

So, together we’ll be on this drug for a while

And feel what they call love

The intensity and emotion of it all,

The twists and turns

Spirals, laughter, and rug burns,

And we will learn about each other in more ways than one

So please give me a shot of that drug that they call love--

Again.

Spoken Word and Slightly Reflecting on How I Branched Out

2011-03-05T13:36:00.000-08:00

When I started writing, I limited myself to only fiction. Then, I began to branch out into other genres. Later, I wrote nonfiction, starting with this blog by giving you, my readers, some personal stories and anecdotes. And while blogging, I discovered a lot of people wrote poetry on their blogs, so I tried out some of my poetry on here. All my stages of writing had its good and bad moments. Eventually, I got the hang of it, but I'm still an amateur.

Lately, I've been involved with a club on campus known as Uncultivated Rabbits and they are known for their spoken word, which is like poetry but with a beat behind it. I've only been in the club for about a month now and I'm just a bunny, I guess, but I feel like I'm starting to get the hang of it. I've realized that there are two parts to a spoken word piece: the writing and the performance. So, I'm preparing for my first ever spoken word piece on Monday, which took three days to memorize. Hopefully, I can put on the performance part of it well.

Wish me luck!

Here are some of my favorite spoken word pieces, done by professionals, that I've discovered this past week when trying to find out what I was going to write about for this coming Monday.

Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cdSEG0dp8Jk

Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1EgErIGq6qE&feature=related

Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y1zpX4R33CA

A Mental Snack (52)

2011-03-02T16:46:00.000-08:00

Share your thoughts...

"Artists can color the sky red because they know it's blue. Those of us who aren't artists must color things the way they really are or people might think we're stupid." ~ Julies Fieffer

What was one moment that you felt like an artist? What was one moment in your life when you felt that you should go against the norm because you felt it was the right thing to do? Or was there a moment in your life when others thought you were stupid, but didn't care what others thought about you?

Open-Mic

2011-02-28T09:59:00.000-08:00

Hey, I'm back online! Sorry for the delays but I finally fixed my computer (and defeated all the ninjas I could find). I'll get right on back to commenting on blogs and being more active here on the Student Writer's Mind.

So, I've also joined a spoken-word/poetry group on campus here at UC Irvine known as Uncultivated Rabbits and they had an Open-Mic not too many weeks ago. I performed a piece of mine that I wrote that very same day that you've probably already read, but here's the performance at Open-Mic! I hope you enjoy and let me know on what I can improve on, because it's very important to me to get feedback.

Thank you for your patience and everything else!

Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=naws2bKQHHw

Technical Difficulties (3)

2011-02-21T11:20:00.000-08:00

My computer has no internet and a lot of other problems, so for a week or so I will be out trying to fight the nasty ninjas that implanted something in my computer to stop it from working, destroy their home base, fight the evil ninja overlord, and obtain the secret into getting my computer to work again. Until then, please enjoy some of my older posts.

Vatche runs away into the darkness and becomes one with the shadows. "Time to kick some ninja ass!"

Police Commissioner Gordon appears in the background along with his son watching Vatche run away. "What is he, dad?" Gordon's son asks his father while staring into the dark alley.

"He's not Batman, that's for sure," he says bluntly, "but an average guy just trying to save his computer from evil ninjas." Gordon puts his hand over his child's head. "Let's go home."

Succubus: A Poem

2011-02-19T15:35:00.000-08:00

Feelings for a girl
That I wish to squeeze into a ball
So small
That my feelings are almost all gone,
Bounce it against a wall
Let it fall,
Maybe never see it again,
Do anything with those feelings
Besides having them inside of my head.

She plays hard to get,
I can’t stand it
When she calls and leaves messages
And wants to talk
But never picks up
When I call her
I hear the dial tone ring
But no one’s answering.
Beep. Beep.
An incessant beep
Is all I hear
Instead of her tranquil voice
Next to my ear.
Where could she be?

I got to stop
And think
What the heck am I doing,
Imagining
All these possibilities,
And fantasies and dreams
Are no longer
As good as reality
That idea planted
Of only being with her.

Does this period
In this text,
This tiny little spec
Mean that our talking is done?
Or she loves to screw with my mind?
How do I end this infatuation
And obsession?
Crap, I should answer this next question
That she sent
And reply
As soon as I can,
What was it that she hated?
What was it that she said?
Am I the one leading or am I the one being led?

Smiley faces and emotion icons
Exclamation marks
And typing so fast,
Fingers have no time to relax,
All I can think of hearing her next words
And hanging out with her,
But does she do this with all the other guys?

She grins sheepishly
When she’s around me,
I can’t stand--
But fall for her,
Her and her spontaneous attitude,
Those green whirlpools that she calls eyes
I can’t help but look at them
As they take me away.
The smell of her perfume drives me insane
Because it reminds me of those summer strawberry fields
And all those summer days,
And her humming is pure bliss,
Is she a succubus?

Whenever she’s near
I try to breathe
But can’t help but feel those very same vortexes
In her skull,
The things we call eyes,
And I’ve realized
That those windows to the soul,
Take not only my breath away
But a lot more.

She plays these mind games
Smashes my brain like clay
Tries to form it,
But I can’t let her take control,
I can’t let her change me,
I am who I am
But why is it that I can’t feel anymore
And all I do is react
Instead of act
Out of my own intentions
Out of my own mind,
I hear the phone ring,
I hear the answering machine
And her voice being recorded
The file cabinets in my mind are all now sorted
To see that she is tricking me
Into believing that she is the only one,
But now all of this is done.

So I click the button,
“Erase,”
And say goodbye to the girl
I once knew.

A Mental Snack (51)

2011-02-16T00:13:00.000-08:00

Share your thoughts...

"An essential element of any art is risk. If you don't take a risk then how are you going to make something really beautiful, that hasn't been seen before? I always like to say that cinema without risk is like having no sex and expecting to have a baby. You have to take a risk." ~ Francis Ford Coppola

What is your art and what risks do you take to make it something really beautiful?

Your Valentine: A Poem

2011-02-14T15:26:00.000-08:00

My love can never be expressed in any cards,
No petals or roses can ever be enough,
Chocolates of any kind wouldn’t suffice
Because all the stars in the universe
Wouldn’t amount to the number of butterflies
In my stomach
For you.

Can you hear it?
The fast, skipping beats of a heart,
My heart,
I can hear yours too.

They say that if they skip to the same beat
That we are each other’s soul mates.
How many times did I wish for this moment?
She loves me or she loves me not,
Throwing away the petals of every flower I can find
Until I saw you
And in your eyes
I saw the passion,
I saw the world,
I saw the beauty of the universe,
And I started to understand all those songs and poems
I started to understand all those things about love,
Because at that one glance
I took the chance
To say, “Hello.”

We met
Had some awkward moments
Here and there,
Silences that I couldn’t bare
Because at all those times,
I really wanted to kiss you
Just to fill the void,
And when we did finally kiss,
I didn’t need to breathe any longer
Because I can feel your life, your energy,
Becoming mine,
And my energy, my life
Becoming yours,
Intertwining in each others arms,
We were one.

The soft touches across each other’s necks,
The way our fingers danced in each other’s hairs,
The smiles and laughs as our bodies crashed
Into another realm better than being awake or in a dream,
A serene place,
Where only lovers can be.

So, today,
I wish you the happiest of Valentine’s Days,
Not with anything in hand,
Except for my heart,
Even though I give it to you everyday,
And you give it back,
But now it officially belongs to you,
Because no one can express my love but me,
No cards, flowers, or candies,
No balloons, animals, or restaurants
Even the greatest of the great
Could ever be enough for you.

Happy Valentine’s Day
And I love you.

What was the best Valentine's Day gift you've ever gotten? What's the best Valentine's Day gift that you've given?

The Ring's Fool: A Poem

2011-02-12T13:51:00.000-08:00

She owns this mood ring
That I gave her,
Tells her how
She feels,
At whatever time
At whatever moment.

When she’s in love
It blushes
And turns magenta,
When she’s anxious
The color disappears
And it turns dark,
When relaxed,
It mimics the blue sky,
When she’s stressed or strained,
Green and yellow sometimes,
Unsettled,
It switches to orange
She’s a rainbow of emotions,
But she’s too focused on it,
Glued
With eyes of curiosity,
She can’t help but stare at it now,
Focused and frozen
With that thing
With that metal ring
On her finger,
Rather than telling her how she feels
She feels whatever it tells her.

The color of the damn ring says blue,
So she remains calm and cool
Doesn’t have a care in the world
And her head is always in the same colored sky
Until it turns green or yellow,
Then,
She can’t help but fall,
She can’t stand tall
Because of all the pressure
That the ring had given her.

She says she’s in love
But is that really true
Or is it because she’s the ring’s fool?
Is the ring making her fall for the right guy
Or is it all in her mind?

I couldn’t stand seeing her like this
Couldn’t stand seeing her so focused
On a thermometer
With color dye in it.
Her eyes were like marbles
Full of the same color of the ring,
When I tore it off her fingers
She screamed
For me to give it back,
The color in the ring disappeared,
Turned black
For it’s owner was gone,
I told her that I would replace it
Give her another gift
As I chucked it into the ocean.

And I handed her a necklace
With the yin-yang symbol on it,
“Balance
Is what you need
Rather than that stupid ring.”
She smiled and knew that I truly cared
And I no longer could read her emotions
Like I wish I did before
But neither could she.

That’s what our love is
An array of feelings
Not even we
Could read.

Have you ever been obsessed with something?

A Mental Snack (50)

2011-02-09T01:13:00.000-08:00

Share your thoughts...

"Giving up doesn't always mean you are weak. Sometimes it means that you are strong enough to let go." ~ Author Unknown

What's one thing that you gave up and are proud of giving up? What was the reason? How did you feel after?

The Friend: A Poem

2011-02-07T01:06:00.000-08:00

Right now,
I wish I can be with you
As soon as possible,
Feel your touch against my skin,
Hear your heavy, warm breathing near my ear,
See those dark eyes that have a tiny glimmer of white
And run my fingers through your crimson hair,
But, I can’t.

I have to withstand,
I have to hold restraints,
Close the gates
To my heart,
Not letting anyone,
Especially you,
For you are falling in love with another,
You are in love with him,
Not with me,
But, what happened to my feelings?

He treats you right
But not in the way that I would treat you,
You get into those pesky fights
But with me you never do,
So many wrongs that I hear and see,
So many rights that could be,
But, they are not.

You claim that you like him
A lot,
Claim to not care
Too much,
When he talks to other girls
And doesn’t get jealous when you talk to other guys,
Claim to love it when he holds you near,
You love his hands around your waist,
And you claim and claim,
But, there is still that feeling of doubt.

I wish to tell you my true feelings,
But I am your friend,
First and foremost
And until the very end.
And I don’t want to see you get hurt
Even though you want the experience,
You want to date,
You want relationships,
So I’ll let you take the hits,
Take all the heavy blows that he gives
With his words even though they feel like fists,
I will be the one by your side,
But, who will be by mine?

I will be that shoulder soaked with tears,
Be the friend that you’ll never fear
To come to and will always hear,
Be that friend that disregards all his dreams,
All his fantasies,
All those deep feelings that lie dormant within his heart,
But, how much would you listen to me?

So,
The next time you come to tell me something about him,
I will listen
To your whispers
And stories,
Keep the urge to silence all your ramblings
With a single kiss,
Bury that thought deep inside my mind,
I’ll listen as I lock it under lock and key,
Until you decide to move in an inch closer to me,
As the key begins to turn inside the lock
You put your hand on mine and stop
Stop everything that was happening,
Freeze time
With that single moment
With that single action
With that single kiss
On my lips
And not his,
You stopped the key from turning,
And changed it all
For the better.

Quest(ions)

2011-02-05T00:58:00.000-08:00

As of right now, I’m lost and confused. It mostly has to do with myself, my connections back home and in Irvine, my relationships, friendships, and everything in between. I am lost on where to go from here on out. It feels as if I walked onto a minefield and knew where all the bombs were ahead of me, but now I’m in the center of it all and I forgot where the bombs were placed. I’m scared one might just explode, probably because many already have exploded, but I survived.

Barely.

Just because I’m lost doesn’t mean I’m lost forever. A friend once told me that the best time to find one’s self is when one’s lost. The best people, the greatest leaders, the strongest survivors, were all once lost in the greatest woods of all, their own minds filled with trees that bear the fruit of doubt.

My friendships, ones that I never doubted before, I doubt them now. Are they really my friends? Am I the best friend that I can be? Do I complete them? My head spins as I think of the endless questions that I can barely answer.

My writing has sort of gone downhill during midterms week, but I’m planning on picking it up this week since the tests that eat more than lead and ink are done with. I’m going to pick up an old work of mine that was put on hiatus for a while, read it, and then finish it hopefully. Also, I’m going to attend to commenting on everyone’s blogs again too.

As for relationships, I’ve been falling in and out of crushes here and there. I thought I found the right girl for me, but turns out she’s in a world of other things. I found out that the thing I love about a girl most is her imperfections, because in all seriousness, perfect is boring. Imperfections and insecurities are what make a person beautiful in the end. However, just because I found a few things, doesn’t mean I found them all. Finding the right person is a waiting game and so I’m going to just wait until I find myself some more.

Lastly, school has kind of been a lot of fun and a lot of chaos with homework, clubs, class, and interviews. I’ve met a lot of new people, figured out some of the clubs I click with, drowned in homework, and got interviewed for a few jobs here and there. I survived most of what was thrown at me. Still looking for a job, classes are slightly boring and filled with reading, and the clubs can be really extreme (both in a good and in a bad way).

So, I’m still lost on what to do with everything and kind of don’t know how to react to it all, but I think I’m going to take the advice of another friend and just take it a day at a time. Step by step, I’ll remember how to get out of the minefields and the forests. I’ll survive with a few scars here and there, but survive nonetheless.

A Mental Snack (49)

2011-02-02T14:52:00.000-08:00

Share your thoughts...

"To laugh is to risk appearing the fool. To weep is to risk appearing sentimental. To reach out to others is to risk involvement. To expose feelings is to risk exposing your true self.  To place your ideas, your dreams before a crowd is to risk their loss.  To love is to risk not being loved in return. To live is to risk dying. To hope is to risk despair.  To try is to risk failure. But risks must be taken, because the greatest hazard in life is to do nothing. The person who risks nothing, does nothing, has nothing, and is nothing. They may avoid suffering and sorrow,  but they cannot learn, feel, change, grow, love, live. Chained by their attitudes, they are a slave,  they forfeited their freedom. Only the person who risks can be free." ~ William Arthur Ward

What is freedom? What did you risk today? What was one of the greatest risks you made?

Identity Crisis: A Poem

2011-01-31T17:15:00.000-08:00

(Written a while ago in my Idea Book. I believe it shows how much I've grown not only as a writer, but as a person, as well. )

Broken mirror,
Many faces,
Many ears and noses,
Many eyes
That stare back at you.

Fists that bleed
Knuckles are numb,
But still feeling that same emptiness inside.

Flashbacks of memories
Of people you once were,
But who are you now?

I am the cocky one,
The confident and brave,
Strength
Is what I rely on
And have no weakness.

I am the artist,
The sensitive soul
That wouldn’t hurt a thing,
The one that loves words and paint.

I am the student,
Studying hard
And went to college,
Made parents proud,
The one that doesn’t make a sound.

I am the--
I am the--
I am the--

I don’t know anymore,
Who I am,
Who I was,
All is gone,
Because change is the only constant in life.

One minute you’re this,
The next minute that,
A second later
On the social clock
And you’re something completely different.

I am the man with the bleeding fist,
Who couldn’t handle any of it,
Who couldn’t handle any more of the change,
Who couldn’t handle the voices in my brain,
Couldn’t take the environment or peers,
Couldn’t stay clear
From the path that was chosen by someone else.
Who am I now?
The real me.
Fractured, broken, and needing time,
Piece by piece,
The stained glass was cleaned and glued back,
But still the fractured mirror had those cracks,
The image that I saw was still plural,
Was still so many,
Hands traced the schisms created
And they tore the mirror down
Without a sound.
Silently taking the many pieces away
Until only one remained.

This was me,
The only piece not affected by society,
By everyone I knew and loved,
Tabula rasa
Once again,
Ready to change,
But this time for the better
And not for another
Bad influence.

What is identity to you?

The Beautiful Survivor: A Poem

2011-01-29T13:19:00.000-08:00

Cancer spreads
Through her body
Through her skin,
Nothing can stop
What’s within.
No doctor can cure,
No miracles can save,
And all she could have done was wait.

On a hospital bed,
She said,
That she might as well be dead
As tears fell from her cheeks
And she started to breathe
Heavily.

Attached to wires,
Needles and drugs
All to keep her up,
For she could not stand by herself.

Her friends and family visit
But she had to admit it
That every time they came
She only saw the same
Sorry, pitiful eyes
That she never wanted to see
But they could not help it
When they saw
That the girl that they knew and loved,
The one that would laugh when she played on the swings,
The one that knew everything
From geography to the greatest of abstract art,
The one that knew how to sing and play guitar,
She was the one that they all loved
She was the one and only one that they could not see
Be taken away.

She tried to fight
With all her might
For her life
Because she wanted to live
To see another day,
Another sunrise and another sunset,
A beautiful day with her boyfriend,
Another day to walk and not be stuck on white sheets,
She wanted to see the world from the outside
Not through glass window panes.
She wanted to see life again
So she prayed, she wished, hoped for the best,
Changed all those wishes in the past
The ones from birthday candles and shooting stars
And all those prayers to God,
To a single thought:
To be healthy again.

Today,
She stands
Just barely on her two feet
But not because of the cancer
Because now that was gone,
She was just plain, old clumsy.
She now laughs and jokes,
No longer does she cry,
No more of those sorry tears,
She just smiles and moves on
For she has survived
And sometimes she looks back
To remember how it was to be stuck on that bed,
To be sorry for everything she did,
And wondering what she did to deserve it.

She looks at the deep, blue sky,
The sun was high and among the clouds,
She rose up from the beach’s sand,
And looked back at me,
Besides all those scars,
All those stitches and red marks,
To me,
She was the most beautiful woman in the world.

A Mental Snack (48)

2011-01-26T01:17:00.000-08:00

"Next time, ask: What's the worst that will happen? Then push yourself a little further than you dare. Once you start to speak, people will yell at you. They will interrupt you, put you down and suggest it's personal. And the world won't end. And the speaking will get easier. And you will find you have fallen in love with your own vision, which you may never have realized you had. And you will lose some friends and lovers, and realize you don't miss them. And new ones will find you and cherish you. And you will still flirt and paint your nails, dress up and party, because, as I think Emma Goldman said, 'If I can't dance, I don't want to be a part of your revolution.' And at last you'll know with surpassing certainty that only one thing is more frightening than speaking your truth. And that is not speaking." ~ Naomi Wolf

When you have an impulse to do something, do you always follow through with it? To you, what's worse to have spoken and dealt with the consequences or not speaking at all? Share a story or two of when you spoke and did something to voice your opinion even though it was looked down upon by others.

The Haunt: A Poem

2011-01-24T14:49:00.000-08:00

The walls breathe so easily,
Yet why is it that I feel so claustrophobic?
I can hardly see,
Can hardly do anything.

Walls closing in,
Almost alive,
I stare at them and dream
That they would take me away,
Swallow me up and
Make me forget all the pain that I have suffered
All the hatred in my mind
All the scars washed away,
Everything in just one gulp
Gone and never seen again.

Take me anywhere but here,
Anywhere where she will be,
I don’t want to see her face again,
And be reminded of the thoughts I have with her,
The memories of love and of hate,
Of regret and of blessings,
Of everything good and bad,
Both happy and sad,
But I cannot withstand these thoughts,
And I see the walls breathe,
But they don’t take me away,
They only stay
Where they are
And breathe.

I see afterimages of her in the faces of others,
Her red hair is everywhere
Even underneath the covers.
Her bluish-green eyes are seen in those very same walls that breathe,
In the back of me,
In the mirrors of hallways and bathrooms,
Everywhere I go,
They follow.
Her perfume is a sweet scent
And is common in every room
Even my own
And even on my clothes.
I can’t stop but think
Of everything about her.
I hear it everyday, too
The crashing of her two golden bracelets together,
The ones, those ones, that she wore on her left arm,
The ones that were given to her by her mom.

Why won’t these things go away?
Why won’t the walls stop breathing?
Why can’t I stop dreaming-
While still being awake?

If the walls can’t swallow me,
At least swallow her,
Every bit and part,
The scents,
The noises,
The hair,
The eyes,
Try to make them hide
From my sight.

Please, take her away if not me,
And, let me be.

Can you ever really forget a person, place, or a memory? What is one memory that you try to forget but comes back to haunt you?

Emilia Flowers

2011-01-22T11:09:00.000-08:00

“My name is Emilia Flowers,” she licked her cherry-red lipstick covered lips as she whispered into my ears, “and I never was supposed to exist.” A strong metal object jabbed itself into my temple as I sat on a wooden chair. “Tell me, Vatche, why?”

“Pointing a gun at me, isn’t going to help you, Ms. Flowers,” I said as I realized that once again, one of my dreams has taken a wrong turn. One of my characters escaped the mental cabinets of my working mind and now was in one of my dreams threatening to kill me.

“Please, call me by my first name. Emilia,” she let the gun slide down slowly from my temple to my cheek. The cold metal of the gun sent shivers up and down my spine causing my whole body to shiver.

“Okay, Emilia. In all seriousness, I don’t know anything about your story or why you don’t exist. You’re just another character and right now, I’m busy studying for school, I can’t be working on your story all the time,” I pleaded to her as I realized that we were in a room filled with mirrors. I saw my reflection about a hundred times in the circle of mirrors and Emilia’s reflection was also by my side.

Emilia was a tall, skinny pale woman. She wore a tight, sparkly silver outfit that shined in the light above. “Well, maybe it’s just time for you to have a little break from your study time.” Her arm straightened as the gun was once again pointed at my temple.

I noticed something shivering in the mirror. My own body. A gun was pointed at me by one of my own creations. It’s almost like when Frankenstein’s monster turns on Dr. Frankenstein, except Emilia was a gorgeous woman and all her disgusting parts were inside her.

“I’ll work on your story, Emilia.”

As the gun lowered, I sighed.

“Really?” She squatted to face me eye-to-eye. Her eyes were cold, yet fierce. They were a golden-brown and her hair was a white-blonde that was cut short. “You really will?”

“I don’t know who you are, Emilia. In all seriousness, I never know who any of my characters are until I start working on their stories. I--”

“I want my story to be ahead of everyone else’s,” she interrupted.

I don’t think I had much choice right then and there. “Um, sure. Okay. I want to let you know that we’ll take your journey together. We’ll find out why you weren’t supposed to exist and--”

Just then she stood up with a smile and two ghostly, white hands came out of the darkness slowly and snatched her. The gun in her hands fell to the floor. One of the hands tightened their grip on her mouth, so that she wouldn’t scream. The other hand almost wrapped around her small body. The hands dragged her back to the darkness and her eyes were in fear. Emilia, the hands, and the darkness became one giant, black nothing as I sat on the wooden chair surrounded by mirrors.

“What am I going to do?”

And the darkness answered in Emilia’s voice, “Save me! Save me from him. There’s a reason why I’m not supposed to exist.” I heard struggles in the darkness but I was powerless to move. “Find that reason. Find my reason to exist!”

The dream ended abruptly and I woke up in my dorm room in a sweat. I went toward my laptop, opened it up, and began to write in order to save Emilia. I needed to find her reason, because she was my character and I was her only hope.

A Mental Snack (47)

2011-01-19T10:30:00.000-08:00

Share your thoughts...

"He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you." ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

What does this quote mean to you? Who or what are the monsters that you fight? What's the abyss that you stare into and that you might also become?

The History Behind a Dream

2011-01-17T14:04:00.000-08:00

(This speech was delivered on the PA system last year at my high school for this holiday by one of my favorite teachers, Mrs. Roxanne Bedrossian. All credit for the compilation of these words belong to her.)

Good morning!

On July 4, 1776 the Declaration of Independence was adopted by the American colonists. In this document, Thomas Jefferson wrote, "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness."

Yet slavery was practiced.

In July 1863, a few days after the battle of Gettysburg of the American Civil War, President Abraham Lincoln began his Gettysburg Address by saying, "Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal."

Yet segregation was practiced.

On January 15, 1929, Martin Luther King Jr. would be born in Atlanta, Georgia. Little did his parents know on that day that their son would make a difference.

Yet African American troops who fought in World War II were separated from white troops.

On December 1, 1955, Rosa Parks, a black woman, refused to give up her seat on the public bus to a white man, which legally she was obligated to do. She was arrested and Martin Luther King, Jr. organized a 385 day peaceful boycott of the Montgomery public buses that put so much pressure on the city that racial segregation of Montgomery public buses finally came to an end.

Yet black and white children could not go to the same school in many places.

In 1959, Dr. King visited Mahatma Gandhi's family in India, where he was more inspired than ever to lead a non-violent revolution. After his visit, he said, "I am more convinced than ever before that the method of nonviolent resistance is the most potent weapon available to oppressed people in their struggle for justice and human dignity."

Yet signs saying, "For whites only," were common in the south.

On August 28, 1963, Dr. King helped to organize the famous march on Washington where a quarter of a million Americans, 80% black and 20% white, listened to King's "I Have a Dream" speech. It was here that he proclaimed, "And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children- black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, 'Free at last, free at last. Thank God Almighty, we are free at last."

Yet many black Americans were still not allowed to vote.

Nevertheless, hope began to grow that this nonviolent movement would reap results. Until eighteen days later, on September 15, 1963, four little black girls in Sunday school were killed by a bomb set off by KKK members. Many people began to question the effectiveness of Dr. King's nonviolent approach. Many expected him to change his tune. But no King. He delivered the eulogy at the girls' funerals, and rather than preach hatred and anger, he offered these words to the grieving families: "Your children did not live long, but they lived well. The quantity of their lives was disturbingly small, but the quality of their lives was magnificently big. They died within the sacred walls of the church after discussing a principle as eternal love."

The following year, in 1964, Dr. King was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, at the age of thirty-five, making him the youngest person to ever receive that award.

However, on April 4, 1968, like those four little black girls, Dr. King's life was cut short by an assassin. King was thirty years old. Like those little girls, the quantity of his life was small, but the quality of his life was enormous.

King would have loved to have been at Washington, D.C. on January 20, 2009 when Barack Obama was inaugurated as President of the United States. Obama was judged "not by the color of his skin but by the content of his character." That was Martin Luther King, Jr.'s dream.

So remember, death is very democratic: kings and beggars die, rich and poor die, old and young die, innocent and guilty die. It is our job to make sure that life is democratic too.

Happy Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birthday!

Self-Operation: A Poem

2011-01-15T13:23:00.000-08:00

A man’s heart was broken,
Shattered into pieces
Like a puzzle almost,
He had to put it back together again
With the help of family,
With the help of friends.

His family helped,
Tried to glue the pieces back together,
Tell him everything was all right,
But it was not,
He still felt broken,
The glue melted
Like the wax of a lit candle,
And all the pieces fell down again.

His friends saw the pieces on the floor,
And decided to try and stitch them back together,
His heart beat fast,
As his best of friends sewed the pieces back,
But when he thought of love again,
The pieces of thread opened,
And he fell to the floor
On his knees,
Asking for someone to help him.

He stared at the ground
Saw a puddle
Saw his reflection
And noticed that the only person who knew about his heart
Better than his family and friends
Was staring at him right now.

So he took off his shirt,
Opened his chest,
Saw the pieces that needed to be fixed,
Noticed the ones that needed to be replaced,
Took them out slowly,
Gently,
Saw the memories that each of the pieces held,
And discarded some,
The useless ones,
Kept the ones that helped him grow,
Stitched and glued,
Hammered away,
Cut and sewed,
And put a lock on his heart,
But held the key to himself.

“One day,” he whispered,
“This key will belong to someone else.”

Have you ever had your heart broken? What did it take to mend that broken heart? Was it your friends, your family, yourself, or someone else? In your opinion, what's the best remedy for a broken heart?

A Mental Snack (46)

2011-01-12T10:28:00.000-08:00

Share your thoughts...

"We don't stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing." ~ George Bernard Shaw

What do you think about growing old and maturing? Is it always fun being adult about situations? Do you ever have times when you find yourself acting like a kid again? What's one moment in your life you found yourself being a kid again?

The Journey's End: A Poem

2011-01-10T15:54:00.000-08:00

The beast is beyond that door,
After this, there may be no more,
The beast, that was his ultimate obstacle
The only thing that stood in his way,
But he was frightened and wanted to stay.

The journey might come to an end
With the victory of the beast or with his own,
He did not know,
But whatever side had won,
What’s done will be done
And nothing will ever be the same again.

What had the boy gone through to get to this point?
He looked at his fellow comrades,
Beaten and scarred,
Tears in their eyes,
Because this was going to be the end,
They finally made it
And the only thing that stood in their way
Was right in front of them,
They saw a giant wooden door with a golden knob
That reflected their frightened and beaten souls and the end of their job.

The beast pounded on the door,
Wanting to be let out,
But what did they end up fighting for?
They traveled throughout all these lands
And found each other.
They had all these dreams of fame, fortune, knowledge, and wonder,
Which they’ve attained gradually throughout their voyage,
But who’s to know whether it’s enough?

The boy, who led the group, reached for the golden knob
That reflected the images of all,
And as he began to turn,
A flash of light surged
In front of his eyes
As the door creaked open
There was a surprise.
The beast rampaged out
And knocked the boy soldier down,
Nearly trampling on all his friends
And went loose upon the world
Because of him.

Then, they all smiled instead of cried,
A new journey was now about to begin,
The hunt for the beast still continues ‘til this day.

What's the beast beyond the door for you? When do you know it's the end of one journey, but the beginning of a new one? Any journeys that you would like to share?

Losing Memories

2011-01-08T12:22:00.000-08:00

When something is lost, you realizes that you never appreciated it until it was gone. You never realize how much it really was worth to you or how many memories you’ve had with it. I lost something recently. It was something simple. Something that someone could easily take away when one is not paying attention. I lost my leather jacket two nights ago when studying with a group of friends and with it, I lost a part of myself.

I’ve always wanted a leather jacket since I was twelve years old. Why? Probably because back then I thought it would look cool. I even wrote a short story on a man reminiscing of his high school days and being haunted by the ghosts of his past through a leather jacket he remembers wearing with the words, “Rules to Live by,” threaded in gold on the back. That's how much I was obsessed with it.

I got the jacket when I was sixteen after saving up for sometime and it started meaning more than just something cool. I’ve had that leather jacket for two to three years now, but now it’s gone. I’ve always told people that when I wore it that it was lucky, but I guess my luck ran out when it disappeared. I didn’t realize it was gone until the next morning, when I was looking through my closet because it was cold outside. I’ve lost only small things before this, but this was my first major time that I had lost something of this importance.

The memories I had with that jacket are embedded in it’s threads. The stains, physical and emotional, will never be removed from that jacket. All the creases and bends, will remain the way that it was supposed to fit for my body and no one else’s. However, I can’t help but think of the terrible thought that it was stolen away from me. That someone, right now, is wearing it with a smirk on their face.

What memories can it possibly hold?

A few dates that could never be forgotten with a magnificent girl, a carnival, a basketball game, a volleyball game, all the hugs from friends, a few dances here and there, the friendly touches on my shoulder, summer days and summer nights, friendly punches and not so friendly. Everything was felt through that jacket and now, without it, I feel empty almost. A piece of me is missing now. The memories are still there, obviously, like papers stacked on top of each other in my mind, but where is the file cabinet to keep them all in?

I guess, I should move on. It was just an article of clothing that can be replaced. I had the privilege of at least owning a jacket. Many people in this world don’t own such things. I was lucky enough to just have a try at it and I could at least save up, once again, for another leather jacket, which will be a new file cabinet of memories for me. It will hold a bunch of new memories and maybe restore some of the old.

I’ve lost something, but I’ve also gained something else. The knowledge that sometimes things get lost and they can be very important things, too, but I have to move on. I don’t think I’ll ever see that jacket ever again, but if I do get the chance I know what I’ll do. I would always wear it, maybe even to bed, so that it would never leave my sight again.

What is something you lost? Have you ever gotten it back? What would you do if you did somehow find it again?

A Mental Snack (45)

2011-01-05T15:51:00.000-08:00

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"Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around." ~ Leo F. Buscaglia

What is one act of caring you did today or one that you remember recently? What's something people often take for granted that another person gives?

Just Love: A Poem

2011-01-03T15:47:00.000-08:00

(On the way to my first class of the winter quarter, I had the first three lines of this poem playing over and over again in my mind, and as soon as I started writing the words down on a piece paper, this poem followed. The mind is a wonderful thing, isn't it?)

Breathing deep,
Very slow,
Don’t know where to go.
Push and pull,
Becomes push and shove,
Never was enough.
Two bodies collide,
Two bodies intertwine,
In the act of making love.

Both hearts beat slow,
Then both hearts beat fast,
Simultaneously, both of them crash
Into each other
Can’t help it,
Despite all the tears and sweat,
All the laughter and scares,
They were one once again.

Having no care in the world,
Time did move too slow
At least, for them.
The clock took away all their fun
When they’re going to age,
Wrinkles will form,
Scars will be created,
But they will still love one another
Just as much as that first day,
That first kiss,
That first touch
Of one another’s hand,
Just as much as that first sight
Of that glimmer in one another’s eyes.

After, they just started to breathe
Normally, once again,
Slowly their hands crawled
To each other’s waist,
And they said good night
Wishing for another day,
Because they knew soon they will age,
They wished for another day
Just for them to be young for just a bit longer,
But the clock still ticked,
So they just made love again.

Have you ever been in love? How do you know he/she is the One?

New Year Resolutions: 2011

2011-01-01T09:56:00.000-08:00

   Every January 1st, I begin the day by writing a set of resolutions that I want to follow, but usually don't. However, this year will be different, because I will post my resolutions here on the blog and try to follow them throughout this new year.
   Neil Gaiman says every year to the followers of his blog, "May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you're wonderful, and don't forget to make some art -- write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself."
   And so, that's what I'm planning on doing. I'm planning on filling this year, just as much as the last ones, with following my dreams, with reading the best of books, and writing my best. I want to surprise myself this year not only with these things but also with things I never knew I was capable of. So, here is my list:

1. Read a few blogs everyday and comment on them, because I haven't been active lately in the blogosphere.
2. Read more, because I can't be a good writer without studying the greatest.
3. Write more! Practice makes perfect, right?
4. Stay healthy and exercise. I don't want to gain that weight back anytime soon.
5. Be more independent, because I find myself relying on others often rather than doing things myself.
6. Continue to do well in school.
7. Be a good friend by helping others grow and letting them grow independently.

   And there you have it, seven resolutions for myself to follow throughout the year. Some are easier than others and some more difficult, but they are resolutions I plan to keep in mind during this entire year. Have a Happy New Years' Day and I wish you, dear readers, the best year possible!

A Mental Snack (44)

2010-12-29T14:08:00.000-08:00

Share your thoughts...

"The whole point of being alive is to evolve into the complete person you were intended to be. Passion is energy. Feel the power that comes from focusing on what excites you. The more you praise and celebrate your life, the more there is in life to celebrate. I know for sure that what we dwell on is who we become. Breathe. Let go. And remind yourself that this very moment is the only one you know you have for sure." ~ Oprah

Agree or disagree? Is life a big evolution? Should we always be celebrating being alive or are there times where celebration isn't the best thing? What's one of the best moments in your life that you'll never forget and celebrated?

Bucket List

2010-12-27T14:05:00.000-08:00

After watching the movie, A Walk to Remember, with a couple of my friends in the hall. I’ve decided to make some short-term and long-term list of goals for myself that I want to have accomplished before I die. Here’s the list:

Find the One and have children with her.

Learn French and speak it fluently.

Get six-pack abs.

Learn how to ride a motorcycle.

Own a motorcycle.

Be the best friend I can possibly be.

Make someone smile every day.

Visit England.

Travel around the world.

Meet Stephen King.

Publish a book.

Read all the books that I own…if possible.

Become successful.

Learn about other religions.

Meet Takehiko Inoue.

Meet Naoki Urasawa.

Do you have a list? If so, what’s some of the things you want to accomplish?

Blogoversary and Christmas!

2010-12-25T01:13:00.000-08:00

Today was the first day I ever posted something, one year ago, on this blog.

Yes, my blogoversary is the same day as Christmas. I knew it was someday in December, but I forgot which day it was until this week came by, when I found out it was on Christmas Day. So, one year older, eh?

This blog has been with me through the best of times and through the worst of times. It's filled with not only all my passion and love, but also yours, dear readers. Every visit counted. Every comment. Everything you've done, has grown into this blog and has become a more experienced blog because of it. It's almost a person, I might say. And I hope for another year, it will be around with me. It will help me with all my experiences in Irvine and out, with my friendships and relationships, and of course, with my writing!

Thank you for everything, dear readers. Thank you for the criticisms, the comments, the likes, dislikes, the responses to my questions, the advice, the stories, the awards, and the letters that you send. I appreciate all of these things with all my heart. I couldn't have done anything without you. And neither could this blog. You, dear readers, are the best gift given to me on this day.

So, Merry Christmas!

A Mental Snack (43)

2010-12-22T10:52:00.000-08:00

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"We take pleasure in answering thus prominently the communication below, expressing at the same time our great gratification that its faithful author is numbered among the friends of The Sun:

Dear Editor,
I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa says, "If you see it in The Sun, it's so." Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?
Virginia O'Hanlon

Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours, man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The external light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies. You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if you did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.

You tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived could tear apart. Only faith, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.

No Santa Claus? Thank God! he lives and lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay 10 times 10,000 years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood." ~ Editorial Page, New York Sun, September 21, 1897

Did you ever believe in Santa Claus when you were little? Sometimes, do you still believe in him? Share with us some of your favorite Christmas stories. Lastly, Merry Christmas, everyone!

Emily Haines and Songwriting

2010-12-20T13:00:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite writers, is actually a songwriter that I discovered over the summer. Her name is Emily Haines and is the lead vocalist for the band known as Metric. In the beginning of summer, I watched Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, where I was first introduced to the song, "Black Sheep," which wasn't performed by Emily, but was covered by a band by the name of Clash at Demondhead for the movie. It was a beginning though. Her writing process is a really interesting one. She was lost for what to write for her next album and decided to clear her mind in Buenos Aires. Here's a video of her story. Enjoy.

Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6L8l2y2BtCs

If you're curious of the song that started it all for me, here's a link for "Black Sheep" covered by Clash at Demonhead in Scott Pilgrim vs the World.
Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-jMruFHTwrY

Fifty People, One Question

2010-12-18T12:36:00.000-08:00

Hello, everyone! I was just browsing the internet this week like usual and found a very interesting group of videos known as "Fifty People, One Question," where a camera crew asks people on the street the answer to certain questions that can have a multitude of answers. Watch them and ask the question to yourself. What's your answer to:

By the end of the day, what do you wish to happen?
Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kow8OoOCm6Y

Where would you wish to wake up?
Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aQk30nYUOAw

If you wake up, where do you wish to be?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3lRhC8b-UWg

What's your favorite swear word?
Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tZJLYNNN6Xs

Why are you here?
Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z0CdVIvQ_z4

What's your secret?
Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mAQtbTqDefw

What would make your day?
Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cDu8_ishAIA

How would you address climate change?
Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vb_lYcHoS-U

What makes you happy?
Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lCxnpt9PpUY

These are just a few examples of the entire series that is now on youtube. Check them out, because I'm sure you would love to hear other people's answers towards the great questions that these cameramen pose to the people of the streets. In the comments section, if you want, answer one or two or all of the questions here. What would be your answer?

A Mental Snack (42)

2010-12-15T13:58:00.000-08:00

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"If you knew what was going to happen next- if you knew in advance the consequences of your actions- you'd be doomed. You'd be as ruined as God. You'd be a stone. You'd never eat or drink or laugh or get out of bed in the morning. You'd never love anyone, ever again. You'd never dare to. Drowned now- the tree as well, the sky, the wind, the clouds. All she has left is the picture. Also the story of it. The picture is of happiness, the story not. Happiness is a garden walled with glass: there's no way in or out. In Paradise there are no stories, because there are no journeys. It's loss and regret and misery and yearning that drive the story forward, along its twisted road." ~ Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin

What do you think would happen if you knew all the consequences of your actions, almost like a god? Would you be happy? Choose only the best options with the best outcomes? Do you believe in parallel universes?

The First Quarter Ends

2010-12-13T13:40:00.000-08:00

(Picture: Sierra after SimSoc Retreat, Taken October 10, 2010)

Finals are over and with them ends the first quarter of my college freshman year. I have learned a lot in just these ten weeks living in Sierra. I’ve learned about myself and the others around me, when to get involved and when to step out, when to help someone and when to know that people can learn more by helping themselves, and so much more.

I have almost an entire month off for vacation, which is a nice getaway from the craziness (the good kind, of course) that is college life. There are parties here, studying there, doing chores somewhere, and everything else on the side. It all took balance to have a somewhat control of it all. But in the midst of all of this, I learned how to be independent and not rely on my parents or anyone else for once. It was my responsibility to get up for class, do homework, wash and dry dishes, do my laundry, and take care of myself. But among all of these things, I’ve of course screwed up a few times. Nearly falling asleep in the class is not always the teachers fault. My laundry never did itself. And sometimes drying the dishes was a pain and I learned to deal with water stains.

The people in Sierra, my hall, are well—people. The theme being diversity is shown by all our different nationalities, ethnicities, cultures, foods, etc. We are different people with different backgrounds and stories. No two people in this world are the same. Some have dealt with more troubles, while others were more blessed. Some never learned to deal with the loss of someone and it still lingers in their minds, while others have learned to accept themselves for who they are. Some are blunt, others are shy. Some are comedians; others end up with the bad jokes that still get a laugh. Some party too hard, others have never been to a party in their lives. A lot are in the field of science and math and few in English and the arts. But all in all, though we are all different, we are also part of the same. We are in the same hall and we live together. So, even though we are different, we learn to respect everyone for those differences.

I’ve learned that I needed to respect someone else’s space because they are not as open as I was. That people can deceive. That I can seem condescending when under a lot of stress. That I am a social butterfly. That I can read people’s emotions in the hall really well after spending some time with them. I’ve learned to watch what I say because it might offend. To think before I act or say. To always give something a second thought. I’ve found that sometimes people get scared and have phobias. There is so much that I’ve learned in just these ten weeks and I can feel the growth that has happened to me physically, emotionally, and mentally. I have become a stronger person because of this choice even though there were good times and bad times, I still survived all of them regardless.

And as I write this now, I’m at my home in LA, just waiting to go back and experience some more.

Technical Difficulties (2)

2010-12-04T12:00:00.000-08:00

My computer just crashed on me for the one millionth time and I'm starting to get really frustrated! Thank God that it's almost the holidays and I might be able to get a new one if I start saving up. Not only do I have finals this week, but this happens. Life just throws everything at you when you're busy with so much. Anyway, I'm going to be away from the blog for a week or so until this computer problem is fixed.

Thank you for understanding.

A Mental Snack (41)

2010-12-01T13:06:00.000-08:00

Share your thoughts...

"A stranger is shot in the street, you hardly move to help. But if, half an hour before, you spent just ten minutes with the fellow and knew a little about him and his family, you might just jump in front of his killer and try to stop it. Really knowing is good. Not knowing, or refusing to know is bad, or amoral, at least. you can't act if you don't know." ~ Ray Bradbury

Do you think Ray Bradbury is right about not knowing? Would you jump in front of the person if he/she was a stranger or if you got to know them better first? Have you ever wanted to know a person that was on the same sidewalk as you or sitting on the same train, bus, or airplane? What is one thing you always ask when you start getting to know someone? Their values? Their religion? Their ethnicity? Their hobbies?

The Liar's Heart: A Poem

2010-11-29T13:02:00.000-08:00

The liar does not touch his heart or chest,

Only unnecessary movements

As he talks about the love he lost,

So long ago

That he no longer cares for.

The liar does not look directly into her eyes,

Only looks away

At the cemented sidewalk

As he says that he loves her.

The liar does not say you, I, or we,

He leaves out all the important things,

Like the idea of being together,

He was only focused on the loss of another.

The liar says that he still loves,

Then why does he frown

Or have a delayed smile

Whenever he speaks those words to her?

The liar speaks almost too naturally,

Does not like silence or pauses

And things that cause tension

As he beings to sweat,

Begins to think,

About the one he lost again.

The liar has a lover, who is a lie detector,

Much like a polygraph

She knew that when he laughed he didn’t really laugh,

But on the inside was sad,

So she wanted to fix what was inside,

Wanted to fix that broken gear in his mind

But the broken gears were just not there

The cracks were everywhere.

The liar was a broken man,

The woman he lost before

Could never be replaced

So the lover of the liar walked away

And the man, at first, felt nothing

Until the footsteps grew in the distance,

Echoed off those same cemented sidewalks he stared at all day,

One broken gear in his heart began to turn, began to move,

He called to her that it was too soon,

But she couldn’t hear him from so far away,

And then the liar’s knees gave way.

He hit the ground

And heard the loudest sound

Now in his ears,

A beating heart

For the one he just lost,

The liar curled up into a ball,

On the floor,

Not being able to handle lost love anymore.

He was always focused on the one before

Rather than the one now

So he understood,

Why his heart began to tick

The way it did,

He never paid attention

Since his own heart was lying to him

But now it was finally telling the truth

And he didn’t know what to do,

Now, he loved that girl, the one he just lost, and no longer the one before,

As he was on the floor,

He sat and contemplated,

When a hand descended,

Another girl was there,

And the liar just smiled.

The Samurai Still Walks: A Poem

2010-11-27T11:54:00.000-08:00

A samurai walks across the land,

Holding the hilt of his sword in one hand,

Crosses the fields of wheat

With wooden sandals on his feet,

Pushing through the dirt,

Through the rain and the mud,

There is silence in his mind,

Calm,

Peace and quiet,

Even when the rest of the world is full of sounds,

The clashing of swords on battlegrounds,

Trying to beat the enemy with a single strike,

The sounds of grunts as people fight,

Drops of water beat their heads,

Until one of them drops dead.

Village through village,

He passes.

From town to town,

He hides

Underneath that straw hat that he made.

As the wind continues to blow,

As he continues to travel,

He feels himself getting old,

The sword in his hands

About to break

Every time he swings

At an enemy.

He had one last job to do,

Assassinate a woman of unparalleled beauty

But he couldn’t even withstand her

When he saw the fear in her eyes

When he attacked her in the dark by surprise,

He saw his fate at that moment

And fell to the floor

For forgiveness.

She could not forgive

For she knew all that he did,

He knew that he killed for money,

Probably killed for fun,

So she decided to end it all,

And so he did what he had to do

And did what no other man could,

He took his sword to save his own honor

And stabbed his stomach.

Suicide was the only way—

To get her

To forgive him.

The samurai

Cried

One single tear

In front of the woman he was about to murder

And she cried for him too,

Wishing he was never a samurai to begin with,

Wishing that no one was able to take away lives,

And as the blood slowly dripped to the floor,

The samurai quickly attacked the woman

For he wanted to finish the thing that he had begun,

Since assassination was his job,

And made her fall to the same ground,

Her face more surprised than his,

Together they bleed until Death comes their way

To take them both away,

But they go on separate paths ,

One to heaven and the other to hell.

The samurai still walks through this world and others as well.