Confessions of a Hero

By Faith

2011-08-17T22:39:00.002-04:00

It's been about two and a half months since I've moved here. When I last wrote here, I was in a dark time. Looking back, most of my times have been "dark". Living for me. In pursuit of my life. My pleasures. My vices. My pride. But now I'm living for something other than myself. True, it was my decision to come to Japan - but God was the one to open the door. And I believe He's brought me out here for a purpose.

There's a chapter in the Bible, Hebrews 11, which I call the Hall of Faith. Here, the writer lists out people in history who have followed God into the unknown. Abraham, Joseph, Moses - and many more. And I'm on of them. Going in to the unknown.

I'm not sure what God has for me, but I press on forward through the wilderness - in faith.

Sinking

2011-06-12T12:32:00.002-04:00

So, I'm far from home. At first I was fighting these bouts of separation. From my brother. From family. from friends. But now it seems that link in my mind has been cut. I don't think about New York as much as I did before. I'm here now in Japan.

I've been focusing on the new work, and adjusting to life here. But as I'm beginning to adapt to the change in lifestyle, this focus doesn't require all that much energy. And so, I'm left with this gap - this whole inside me, needing to be filled. It's like I'm underwater - not at the surface, but not in the bottom either. I'm kind of just floating around, with nothing to grasp.

Yeah, the loneliness is begin to sink in. But I can't run back home. And I can only hide so long in work. Because at the end of the day, when your head hits the pillow, with nothing but the echo on your thoughts bouncing around in you mind - you've got nothing to do but just deal with it. Just endure it, for now...

Across the Sea

2011-06-05T08:20:00.002-04:00

I started doing EMS to do good. And in my past three years of doing just that, I've decided to do something different. I've left New York and moved to Osaka, Japan. I've left my brother. My family. My friends. My life. And taking a chance to be part of a new adventure. The road ahead has mountains and valleys. Deserts and rivers. Rising skylines and winding streets without names.

Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning. So, here I am - across the sea.

Pudi Funny

2009-10-30T12:25:00.001-04:00

"If I stay, there can be no party. I must be out there in the night, staying vigilant. Wherever a party needs to be saved - I'm there. Wherever there are masks, where there is tomfoolery and joy, I'm there. Mmmmmm. But sometimes I'm not because I'm out there in the night, staying vigilant, watching, lurking, running, jumping, hurdling, sleeping. No I can't sleep. You sleep. I'm awake. I don't sleep. I don't blink. Am I a bird? No. I'm a bat. I am Batman. Or am I? Yes. I am Batman. Happy Halloween."
-Abed (Danny Pudi) from NBC's Community as Batman

For the Moments I Feel Weak

2009-04-21T06:52:00.003-04:00

I got this habit - a bad habit. Whenever something bothers me, I keep it in. I used to let it all out, and tell the world know exactly what was bothering me. But I don't do that anymore. I used spill my guts - but I don't want to be that kind of person anymore. I don't want to be one of those people who puts their burdens on others. I want to own those burdens on my own. Otherwise, I felt it made me look weak. I mean, come on - who would put their confidence in someone who kept showing others the chinks in their armor.
I need to be perfect. I can't show any flaws. I can't let others see me weak.

But honestly, I'm not very good at that. When something bothers me, it shows. It really fucking shows. And I wish it didn't.

I have some pretty good people around me. People who genuinely care, who want to help - but I'm stuck.
I feel like, if I let it all out then maybe they'd find something and make them turn away - disgusted. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday.
We all have our demons - our curses. But I have a hard enough time facing them by myself, what about others. What would they do?
In the end, I'm lonely. I can have the world fall in love with me, but I'd still be alone in my thoughts and principles.

So, when something is wrong, and eating away at my insides - never you worry, and never you fear. I'll take care of this on my own. I'll find a way. For my sake, as well as yours.
This is mine. I got this.

A Good Night's Rest

2009-04-19T08:23:00.003-04:00

You know, I completely under estimated a good night's rest - completely. Before I used to think that running on the ambulance would clear my head. But last night, doing 14 hours straight on the street - it really didn't.
If anything, it only made some things weigh heavier in my head:
Paying off the bills. Replacing my damn cracked car windshield.
That girl. This patient. That jerk. This sunny day when I'm stuck working. That cigarette. This sense of not being good enough for the people around me.

All kinds of stuff that's somehow managed to clog up my head. This - SHIT!!
All of it gone, after a good night's rest.

Thank God for that one -
Now, what was I going to do today?

No Einstein

2009-04-06T13:01:00.003-04:00

Alright, so I'm not exactly the sharpest knife in the proverbial drawer. I've done some pretty stupid things in my past. Most often than not, they're the result of acting without thinking. This is just one such thing...

For about a year now, I've been taking daily hikes. Venues change, such as the boardwalk or a local park. But as long as I get some fresh air and get the blood flowing, I'm good. Nothing like getting out there and wandering, alone with your thoughts - it's just easy. Earlier today, it was gray and cold, with a fresh coat of April showers. Most people would just stay in under the covers or spend a lazy day on the couch and watch three straight hours of Top Chef or something like that. But now your ever-loving me. So I set out for the park down the block, with hiking sneakers, slacks, running jacket, and a weighted vest for that little challenge. About a mile and a half into my routine, I noticed I had not come across another person in the park. I smiled to myself, enjoying the solitude. Savoring the time when I could let out my constant inner-monologue out-loud! It almost on cue, it began to rain. But I did not mind. On the contrary, I loved it. Not bad, eh?
And then came the thunder. "It's alright," I told myself. "I still don't see any flashes of lightning." Spoke to soon. Flashes of light lit up the sky around me, with the thunder rumbling the ground beneath my feet. I quickened my pace. And then an awareness came to me like, Oh-snap!-I-left- the-iron-on!
"Oh shit," I said to myself. "I'm drenched head to toe with rain and sweat, with 50 lbs of metal strapped to my body!" Oh shit. "I'm a walking fucking conductor."
The panic lessened as I remembered I'd be alright. If God would take me home now, I'd be fine with that. Why the hell not? No more problems. No more drama. No more struggles. Just good times ahead with God. I man'ed up and kept on going.

FLASH! BANG! BOOM!
I covered my ears and ran a bit faster.
Real brave, big boy. Real brave.

I got home safe. Un-sing'ed, but soaked. And jumped into a nice hot shower.
Heh, I'm no Einstein.

The Inevitable

2008-10-21T11:41:00.003-04:00

Everyday, I sit in an ambulance - and wait. Just waiting for an emergency. Sometimes there are bullshit calls, people who you can tell have no REAL emergency but just could use a free trip to the hospital. But every now and then, there comes a real emergency - life or death.

So far, I've won out every battle. They live and no one dies. But lately, thoughts of the inevitable creep up on me: One day, someone will die - and I will be responsible.
It happens to every tech, someone will die on their watch. In the hours before I put on my uniform, that responsibility gets too heavy and I just want to throw away all this shit. But I step out there still because I can.
But when will it happen? Today? Tomorrow? Months from now?
Whatever the answer, someone will die. And not just one, but another one and another and another...

When I signed up for this, I had these thoughts of saving the day. Me standing there with a metaphorical red cape flapping in the wind.

But sooner or later - I'll lose.

Quis Custodiet Ipsos Custodes

2008-07-28T01:53:00.004-04:00

I haven't had a good dream in weeks. All I dream about is about life on the streets. Lucid visions of me, running around from call to call. This is a lot harder than I thought.
I mean, I thought I would get used to all this running around at night, but I don't think so.
I can't even dream a damn decent dream.

Sure, I dream about family and friends. But ultimately, some theme about an emergency or taking care of some patient arises. And that's it. Family and friends? They're just the supporting cast.
In the end, it's just me - chasing pavement. Ha, and not even a damn hot and sexy dream about some girl!
It's like, I can't unwind anymore. I can come back from a night of work, and not not come back at the same time. I can't switch-off.

I don't want to come off and bitch about circumstances I chose - because this is it. This is my choice. No second-guessing here. I'm doing "good".
But I'm having trouble handling all this on my own. And at the same time, I don't want to be one of those people who puts their burdens on somebody else.

I help people. But who will help me?

Weak-sauce

2008-07-18T02:32:00.002-04:00

I think I know a bit more about what's going on -

You see, I deal with a lot of shit. Besides, illnesses and injuries - I deal with people. People with broken pasts, or just broken people. And this stuff gets to me. I take all the problems in their lives, and take it as my own. And then when I get home, and try to relax - I can't, because all their stuff comes up. And it seems that the only way I can separate work from home is talking about this.
But 1) There's no one to "unload" on because they're so busy with self-absorbed with their own shit.
And 2) I hate coming off as some weak-ass punk who can't hack it.

I hate talking about this. Mostly because I come off as weak. I don't want to appear weak. I can't.
Who the hell can somebody help someone else, when they can't even help themselves? Can't even carry their own burdens?
I hate talking about this. I hate coming off as some weak punk who can't hack it. But it seems that the only way that I can hack it is if I can unload a bit of this on the people around me.
Fuck, why can't I do this on my own?! Why the hell do I have to bother others with this - THIS: My own personal burden.

Dammit! I want to do this on my own.
Because when stuff goes down for people around you, but you couldn't carry your own stuff -
What the hell are you gonna do then?

Psh, some "hero" I'm turning out to be.

Abyss

2008-07-18T01:32:00.004-04:00

"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And when you look into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you."
-Friedrich Nietzsche

It's been a couple months since I actual started working as an EMT. And I'm out there, practically every night - one the front lines of dealing with the sick or injured. Some patients really strike a chord in you.
Last week, there was one patient who really reminded me of my grandfather, who died when I was 15 years old. And while we rode in the ambulance, he was telling me all these bits of pieces of wisdom.
"Live a good life." "Find that good woman, and love her." "Don't waste your time, live while you can."
With each word, I leaned in close and looked eye to eye with him - accepting each tid-bit of wisdom, as if my grandfather was telling me all the things he couldn't when he died some eight years ago.
I can still feel the tears welling up inside.

I still remember what drives me to do this. I remember the words my father said to me as I helped on a car accident on I-95 coming down from Rhode Island: "You did good".

I did good. I do good. Am I good?

These days, I don't really know. In fact, I feel unappreciated. Undermind.
I don't tell people my story because, they just nod and go on with what they were going to say. And that hurts, because - well, I take so much pride in what I do.

I spend my nights dealing with people vulnerabilities and insecurities. I guess, eventually those vulnerabilities and insecurities would deal with me.

Something is happening to me these days. I feel all this negative... THING crawling up inside me. In fact, I would lie down at night and sort through every emotion stirring up inside of me.
Anger. Rage. Sadness. Loneliness.
Out of all of the emotions ripping and roaring through me, none among them are "happy". What the hell is happening to me?

I'd find myself internalizing a lot of built up anger and resentment towards the people that care about me. I find myself driven for my own personal benefit.
Oddly enough, at the same time - I'm finding a lot of extreme narcissistic-elitist notions inside of me.
I see myself, BETTER than a lot of people. I see the weaknesses in some people and it makes me laugh.

I don't know what the what it is, but whatever it is - it isn't "good".

Finally!

2008-05-08T19:09:00.002-04:00

It's been months since I finished my certification. And after all this time job-hunting (more like job-"begging"), including a brief period when I thought marketing was more up my alley, I finally landed something.

Ladies and gentleman, girls and boys, your friendly neighborhood hero has finally landed an EMT position!

I was really beginning to be bummed out with all this job-"begging". Applying to hospital ambulance proved futile without the necessary 911-experience. And when trying to get that experience with a volunteer ambulance company, it would've taken me another couple months until they got the newly enlisted crew together. And FDNY? My heart's still set on them. They practically run the whole city's ambulance companies. But the academy still hasn't assigned an investigator to check out my background, and the next academy isn't until June or July. I couldn't wait for the FDNY forever.

Money's short. Money's very short. Debts are stacking up higher and higher. I was getting desperate. Really desperate. I mean, I was seriously about to sign up to become a pizza delivery boy. Me, a smart and talented college-boy, with the skills to help save lives, would've just become pizza delivery boy. Talk about waste of talent.

Then one afternoon, I got a call about an application I had out in with this Brooklyn ambulance company - the same company my fraternity brother and my mom had been pitching to me. I came in and just like that, I landed a job. In Brooklyn, which is just what I wanted.
I didn't want to sleep shifts away in the doldrums of some suburban neighborhood of the greatest city in the world. I wanted to be right there, right there where the action is - in these mean streets. And hopefully, I'll get just that out with this ambulance company.

Today, I came home from taking my ID picture and picking up my uniform. And I gotta say - Damn, I look so good in my uniform.

It feels so good to land something, especially when I've had such rotten luck these days. But tonight, it feels good to win one - it feels real good.
Every now and then, certain questions will pop up in my mind, like...
Will I be strong enough? Will I be patient enough? Will I be smart enough? Will I be good enough?

Well, there's only one way to find out -
And that's by doing what I was meant to do.

7 Hours to Live

2008-03-26T01:02:00.004-04:00

Today was going to be my day. And life or fate or destiny or whatever anthropomorphized summation of existence wasn't going to give it to me - so I carpe'd it, myself.

Started it off with a hair-cut. "La-dee-fucking-da", right? But I have to say, I do look pretty shmexy (not a typo). For a while now, I've been waking up with my head looking like Wolverine from the X-Men's bed hair. And there's something about a simple lowering of the ears that makes me feel like a new men. Shmexy. So very shmexy.
I only trust one guy to cut my hair. Call it habit, but I like to call it loyalty - or something like it. Joe. Joe's pretty old too. 60-something year old guy with an Italian accent. Was he born here in New York? Or did he come out here? I should ask him. I wonder where I'll go to next once he's done cutting hair. A little dark, but what about when he dies. Will I know? Will I go to his funeral. Yea, I would. The guy has been cutting my hair since I started thinking about how girls see me. In his own way, he's seen me grow up. Years of thoughts of junior high school, of high school, of college, of the real world, fueling the follicles of my scalp to feed new hair to grow - and there he was chopping off the old points of pondering. Yea, I'll see this guy to the end.

On my way out of the mall (which I only go to for two reasons: bills and hair-cuts), I ran into a couple of old friends. James, Sabrina, and Phil. We used to be parts of a bigger posse back in high school. I haven't seen these guys - er, and gal, in five years. Five years! And here they were In Macy's. Helping Phil buy a watch. Where the hell have these people been? For five years?!
I'll be the first to admit that I'm not the best at keeping in touch. In fact, I remember leaving high school like it was a dream and waking up in college. Back then, part of me was afraid that I wouldn't find another group of friends like them - I wouldn't be another prince in the posse. But I did.
People change. A couple of summers ago, I went up to Boston for a friend's funeral. A friend picked me up from the station and said how it felt like I had been through three lifetimes just to make it back to Boston. At the time, I hadn't seen that guy in three years. I changed. But here I stood with my old high school buddies - and James, on of my closest friends in high school. Not seeing any of them for half a decade. And we stood there, laughing and joking, barely wasting time with small-talk. It felt good re-living the past. It was like jumping into a photo album. I noticed I even moved a jumped around like I was 17 years-old again. A thought raced through my mind as I left:
I went away for five years. They stayed right here. They haven't changed. I've changed. Can I even be with these people anymore? An elitist notion that I beat out of my head.
Note to self: Call them up, and actually do something sometime.

Paid a bill at Circuit City. $10 minimum, and no more money due on the balance. Some day , my credit card bills will get there. In due time. No major thoughts raced through my head as I stood in line for customer service. No epiphanies. No grand waltz with thoughts in three-quarter time. Just paid a bill. Just a bill. For $10. Standing. I loath lines. I am possible the most impatient person when it comes to lines. Can't someone help me pay this thing off on another register? I know they can. Don't bullshit me and tell me can only do it at customer service. Girl behind the cashier. She looked familiar. Did we take a class together? Do we know the same people? Probably not. Just some girl in a red polo servicing customers.
"Thank you very much and have a good day." I said it. Not her.

Barnes and Noble. One of the big boys of books. I respect, and miss, those little mom and pop bookstores. They were intimate. They were charming. Barnes. And Noble. Charm me.
I went in to pick up a book that had held for me. And there she was behind the register. Black eye-liner. And short brown hair framing her light face. She was wearing an engagement ring. Damn. As the book was coming, I had to say something. Today was my day.
"For what it's worth, I really like your eye-liner." The words rehearsed in the awkward two seconds waiting for the book.
"Aww, thanks." She smiles.
I chuckle to myself. "I mean it! It kind of gives you this nouveau Audrey Hepburn feel."
She gasps, "That's exactly what I was going for. Aw, you just made my day. I love her."
"Me too. If I could be with any woman of all time, it would be 1960s Audrey Hepburn."
"She is beautiful. I was just looking at some of the dresses she wore. She is tiny. So cute. Like a Pixie, you know?"
"Marry me", I thought to myself.
The book comes down, and she rings me.
"Well, I'll see ya" She says.
"Thanks, Audrey."
She giggles. I wink as I turn to leave.
"Next customer please step down." Geez, I'm such a cheesy flirt.

It's cold. The sun is setting fast, and I wanted to get to the boardwalk down by the shore while I still had some sun in the sky to take some pictures. My Nikon FM10: aperture f/16, shutter speed 1/60 second. The wind is like a wall of ice. The sun was bowing out behind the curtain of March clouds. I should have come earlier. The sun would've kept me warm, and given me more lighting to work with. I walked down the boardwalk. Atlantic winds making me yearn for comforters of my bed. But I kept walking. I hadn't walked here in a while. I remembered walking on the sands with Christine, with the summer sun high in the sky. The little gazebo I sat under with Leigh Anne one night to shield us from the rain. I remembered a picture of me running around my dad when I was two or three-years old. But tonight it was my time.
And I walk. Humming bars of Brubeck. Of 'Trane. Of Miles. I reached the end and saw the arching lights of the Verrazano Bridge. I love that bridge. Every time I cross it, it feels like huge gates are welcoming me.
I light a cigarette. Marlboro lights. I've quit with success a couple times in the past. But sometimes it feels good to smoke, especially when it's cold. I take a deep pull and let out the blue air. The winds are harder now, almost ripping the cigarette right out of my mouth. This beach used to be full of people, a real popular beach resort. Until 1949, when a series of fires and pollution stripped the shores of its seaside glory. Tonight, it's my ashtray.

I never could find a place to sit down and open my book. I walked back to where I parked, and let the engine heat up. Pete Hamill's "Downtown: My Manhattan". I read the first chapter. He emphasized on nostalgia. Nostalgia. Unlike sentiment, which is usually, if not always, based on a lie; nostalgia, was based on the reality that something is lost. Nostalgia is the spirit of New York. Nostalgia is the spirit of my night. High school friends. Memories of college days. A summer in Japan. In the end Tuesday becomes Wednesday, and that Tuesday is lost forever. But as lost as they are in time and space, and as clichè as it sounds - there is truth in that I have them still in memory.
So I sat there, for a good forty-something minutes, reading on the Capital of Nostalgia.

Home. The house is dark as I've spent one of my lifetimes for myself. And I am famished. I chop up some garlic. Fry up some tomato paste. Splash of red wine. Spoon in some sugar. Simmer. Toss in a few meatballs from the oven. Pasta: au dente. All with Frank Capra's 1936 film "Mr. Deeds Goes to Town". And Voila! Reduced-Red Wine Spaghetti and Meatballs.
Remember macaroni and cheese? I loved macaroni and cheese.

After preparing two other dishes from my parents once they get home from work, I unwind with my dinner, a glass of red, and Steve Burrs' "Igby Goes Down". This movie has been on my to-watch list for a while, and tonight was - you guessed it, my night.
Throughout the movie Igby (who I remember as his brother's bed-wetting cousin 1o-something years ago), is just fucking around the whole movie. He's instilled with this bigger-than-life attitude in the high-society world he's presentedwith. Remembering the words his father uttered in the midst of his mental breakdown, Igby goes to whatever lengths are necessary to avoid that "pressure" from crushing him. Pressure. Under it. Avoiding it. The right amount can steer us to greater development. But too much can bring us to self-destruction.
Good movie. Just a good movie.

What a good day. My kind of day.
My friend Jack asked me, "What's the Occasion?"

"It's Tuesday."

With Broken Toes and Frosted Nose

2008-03-05T00:50:00.006-05:00

Alright, so I haven't landed a business-business job. Experience is key out here - but I don't necessarily have that business experience under my belt. I'm beginning to think that maybe working out of a twenty-something floor of some building in midtown Manhattan isn't in the cards. Maybe it really isn't not for me.

This girl I know said something that I've been looping over and over in my head these days. She said something like, "When God shuts a door in my face, He opens up a box of cupcakes." Yeah, I know that isn't exactly how the phrase is supposed to go - but I like hers better. Besides, who doesn't like cupcakes?!

Business-business is that slammed door. EMT is my box of cupcakes.
And I'm here. I'm already an EMT. And I should move forward with what I know I love to do, right?
It's funny. Every time I hear a siren scream / wail / "doot-doot" by, it's like the ambulance is telling me to follow it: "Follow me - to where you're called to be."

Lately, I've been looking into working at Bellevue in Manhattan, some company in the upper west side, and another place in Brooklyn. Also, looking into working out of Downstate Medical. Plus, I'm still waiting to hear from the FDNY.
I want to work on a 911 ambulance (or "bus"). And I want to work in the really shitty neighborhoods, you know? Where all the bad stuff happens. Why? Because I have these skills that I want to use where it would do the most good. It'd be kind of a waste if I worked out in the posh neighborhoods, and the only calls I'd get would be shuttling old folks to and from clinics.

I'm here for excitement, and dammit I'm gonna get my share!
Now all I have to do is find a job...

357263

2008-03-01T02:38:00.002-05:00

Months of training. Night and day rotations. Test after test after test. Weeks of waiting - WAITING. They all culminate to this: six digits.
To do what I believe is good, To help people in their most vulnerable moments.

Today, I finally received my New York State Emergency Medical Technician Certificate.
Shield no. 357263

Alright. Let's do some good!
Tally-ho.

Irbsu'k

2008-02-28T22:49:00.009-05:00

dittoWhen someone confesses something, it's usually done in a passionate way - a cathartic cry to calm whatever cognitive dissonance echoes inside them. They let it all out. These days, I haven't written much of anything. And I could say something to myself like, "Oh, well there's nothing much to write about these days anyway." But that'd be a lie. My life is anything but boring.
So why then haven't I "been to confession"?

I've been en garde these days. Saving face. And spending sanity.
I'm coming back to the reason why I started this whole thing: Taking off this damn mask!

A couple weeks ago, I was talking to an old friend from high school. We were talking about careers and having a family of our own someday (not me and her), and she challenged me saying something along the lines of "Do you really expect to support your wife and kid(s) on an EMT's salary?"
That bothered me. What "wife and kids"? Who the hell was she to challenge my future as a street-savvy savior? Still, that got to me. It made me think about looking for a something with better money.
Passionate versus Practical.

I've always been a person that moves with emotion. My fortè and foible. But this time, something else is moving me - my brain. And like Dorothy's straw-stuffed sidekick, I had it the whole time.

I'm still waiting for the New York State EMT certificate to come in. It's been about seven weeks since I took the exam, and still nothing. I checked in with a friend from class, and he still hasn't received his certificate. Worried? Not really - but more like antsy in my pantsy. I mean where the hell is this thing?
Bills are stacking up like jenga blocks. I'm playing hide and seek with debt-collectors. I still need to pay off student loans. And, I have to find my own place. Oh, and I can't forget about that speeding ticket I got four months ago (damn, the ONE TIME I tried testing out "the system"). With a little more foresight, I could've avoided this, but I didn't. And since I can't exactly answer my calling without my M.I.A. NYS EMT C-E-R-T-I-F-I-C-A-T-E, I've been searching for a job. Okay, maybe not "searching" per se - but more like begging. And I'm begging in business. Some people say I should try my hand in marketing, so I figure why the hell not? If I can sell myself with my charisma, why can't I sell a product, right?
So I've been interviewing, mostly with Japanese companies that have found my resumè online. It's been going pretty well for the most part. And if I get a call tomorrow, then I'll finally have something, that or I'll have to keep jumping through hoops to land a job... or not.

Beggars can't be choosers, right? And I have to start somewhere.
But I'm still on fire to be an EMT. I want those glory-stories to be my own. And once that certificate comes through, I'll probably use my spare time moonlighting for hospital and FDNY ambulances. Why? Because it's where I want to be. And If where I want to be lines up with where the world needs some one to be, then that's where I'm supposed to be.

Easy? Nope. not at all. But "easy" is a word that left my dictionary right around the ninth grade. And if this is something I really want to do, I should sacrifice a piece of myself to get there and do it.

My life's not easy. It's hard. It's painful. It's tangled and messy. But that's what makes it my own.
And in the end, I have faith that it will work out.

That much I confess...

Future Hero

2008-01-20T03:15:00.000-05:00

If you could write a letter to yourself some time in the past, what would you say?

Hey 15 year-old hero,

Now if I write this letter from me to - err, me - wait, I mean if You write this letter from you to you - no no, ok - if I write this letter from me to you, will I, in the present, all of a sudden remember the exact moment when I read this letter? It boggles the mind! Ok thought I'd put a little joke in there to break the ice - but not like there would be much ice to break, considering that I'm basically talking to myself, or you're talking to yourself. Anyways, I know that you've sat up at night wishing that some body could just lay it all out, and tell you how everything's going to be. Well, here that is that "some body".

So here you are ready to start high school. Savor it there man, because you'll be transferring to another high school by the end of semester. Get ready and strap yourself in, because life only gets bumpier from here on. But hakuna matata, you're not going to go through it alone. You make some pretty cool friends along the way; friends that really help you get over those bumpy patches of life. Learn to savor those friendships, because in the end you'll only keep in touch with literally two of those friends. Yeah, it sounds kind of sad, but they're good people.

By the way, flannel shirts are cool, i mean it is your thing, go with it! But sooner or later, you're going to come off looking like a lumberjack.

Everyone who's normal goes through an awkward phase. You - you're going to get real anti-social, especially with the people in church. If you can, don't do that - you grew up with these people, and this will only deteriorate you're friendships with them, friendships you've had with them since you were five years-old. Don't do it - but don't sell out who you are just to fit in with them. You're a special kid, you should let people enjoy your company - not push them away. Ego trip? Don't get cocky.

Don't get cocky! I know right now, you may not exactly be the coolest kid ini school - but that'll change in a couple years when you hit college. Don't change that part of you. Don't be the jerk. Be the good guy you were meant to be.

It's ok to to cry for your grandpa. Your doing everything you can do to make sure he'll never alone in that nursing home. You know that. He knows that. And when he's gone, you can cry. You can smile, because you know he's smiling at you. Don't let him down.

Braces. The big glasses. The I-don't-know-what-to-do-with-my-hair look. They'll go away, and actually before that happens, some people will see through all that and see something amazing, the kind of something they want to show other people. Oh and by the way, PLEASE wear your retainer. Stop getting lazy and jsut wear it.

On September 11th, during 5th period, you'll see a girl crying - pray with her, you'll be glad you did.

You got ideals. That's good, but real life will kick you in the teeth sooner or later, but don't ever lose what you believe in. Take the beatings, you'll survive. But never stay beaten. And never ever stand idle watching the beaten. Pick them up, it's what you were meant for.

Take all of life in. The good. The bad. You'll get come out on top some days - and really screw it up on others. But take it all in.

Be honest with yourself. Respect others. Don't get cocky. Be responsible. And don't smoke.

Well, I guess that's about it. Oh, and even if you don't do all that - it's alright. Life's still pretty damn good on this end.

~23 year-old hero

The End of the Beginning

2008-01-18T04:03:00.000-05:00

Tonight, after three hours, I finished my New York State Emergency Medical Technician exam. I'm a perfectionist when it comes to circling those little bubbles - and I freak out if my erased bubbles don't fully disappear! But as I walked out of the room I worked so hard in for four months, I shook the hand of my instructor.

He smiled something of warmth and pride. He smiled a smile as if he had something to say. He didn't.
But I smiled right back and thanked him for everything.

It seems like a blur since I first made that call while teaching science to elementary school kids in Long Island, telling him about my interest in the program. But after four months, I'm done - moving on to the rest of my life.

This moment right here - is the end of the beginning...

Sleepless in New York

2008-01-06T15:56:00.000-05:00

It feels like forever since I last sat down and just write. I think it's about time I did.

Last night, was one of those sleepless nights. You know what I mean, when you just lay in bed and just not being able to turn off your mind? So you lay there, tossing and turning until you see the blue sky creep up in your window. I tried everything. Sleeping on my side. Sleeping on my stomach. Flipping the pillows to the cooler side. Sleeping with the blankets over my head. Nothing. Maybe my music was on too loud for me to turn off my head. Whatever it was, I just couldn't turn my mind off. So I just lay there sleeping with the ghosts of my past.
Here's a chunk of what blitzed through my mind last night...

2007 was a roller coaster. It started about a girl, like most things in my life. And ended it ended about a girl. Yeah, I became a "scumbag", but I found something that made me happy. And that "something" I didn't get anywhere else. It was a fun distraction. But in the end, maybe that's all it was - a distraction. I don't know. But the year did carry a few good things, like getting close to a good group of friends. And I am on my way to finding out my calling.

It's 2008 now. Another new year. Another new beginning. Another fresh start. How many fresh starts will I get until I finally get my act together. "Get my act together"?! Honestly, I feel things ain't that bad. My life is actually picking up. Somethings, like my career and my family life, are falling into place. Sure there are still debts to pay. And I have to finish getting my degree, but all in all. Life is looking pretty good.
There are some things that are still kind fo sour, but they've been sour for years! For example, I still don't have a girlfriend. I'm beginning to think that maybe there's some great defect that stops me from getting on. I don't know - maybe? But since my best friend has bounced back into relationships since his break-up this past spring THREE TIMES. I think it's about time i stopped dragging my feet and genuinely tried to foster a relationship, don't you think?

All in all, it's a brand new chapter to the story of my life. And sure God will sometimes yank the rug out from under me, but I still can't wait to see what he has in for me this time around.

After wrestling with my covers and my thoughts last night, I was up and out again by 7:00 AM for more EMT training. Today we went to the junk yard and worked with the NYPD Emergency Service Unit and worked on rapid extrication in a motor vehicle accident. After a restless night followed by trudging through muddy ground carrying student-patients in awkward positions out of cramped cars again and again and again, I made my way to church. My home church. Somethings seemed to change. And something didn't. It was nice to have a sense of dependability with a splash of variety, kind like Lucky Charms (What is it with me and that cereal?! I'm really more of a Cinnamon Toast Crunch kinda guy).

With this year, I'm hoping to kick out a few bad habits. And also trying to be more honest, not just with others - but with myself too. I got this feeling that something good gonna happen. I can just feel it - like God's got something up his sleeve just for me. I hope so. I pray so.
So listen to my story, and we'll see what happens in this chapter.

Cheers - to a brand new day!

In a Perfect World

2007-12-18T03:19:00.000-05:00

In a perfect world, what would you do? No one would get hurt. No one would get sick. What would you do?

A friend brought it up to me that I should be a writer. I thought about it, and it wouldn't be such a bad idea.

Back when I was a kid, I hated English class. I hated writing. It took up too much of my energy - writing sentence after sentence. Maybe I was just lazy. My teachers said I had a real knack for it. But it wasn't just for me. At seven years old, I made a bold existential cry that despite my talent, writing wasn't for me. I was just lazy.

Whenever my family had to give a greeting card for a birthday, a wedding or whatever, my mom always entrusted me with writing a little something extra in the card. I'd groan saying how the greeting card company had something already written. She keep pushing saying that I'm good with words.

I remember back in high school, I had this crush on a girl. We'd right letters back and forth and pass them to each other throughout the day. She'd write a long one, and I'd easily top her. I mean I usually wear my heart on my sleeve - but wen I wrote, it was like my heart climbed down my arm and into my fingertips. Before I knew it, I had written four pages. Writing, especially about something I felt passionate about felt so natural.

In school, I stepped up to right a few scenes for an annual Chinese cultural show. Ended up doing it two years in a row. My friends said how all my characters sounded exactly like me. Honestly, I didn't know what they were talking about. But it felt really good to write and know that your characters would come to life, and that hundreds of people would watch them. My friend said how last year's show was the best one yet. That felt really good.

Lately, I've taken a shot at writing music again. I've got melodies hammered out - but these days, I'm lost for words. Maybe I need some inspiration, like some Greek mythological muse to come down and kick me with some re-newed passion.

I remember sitting down one day and watching some late night talk show - I think it was Conan O'Brian. And I thought, "Wow, I would love to do that. Make people laugh and just talk to people".

In a perfect world, where no one would get hurt and no one would get sick, I'd be a writer.
But as you can see, this isn't exactly a perfect world". Far from it. People get hurt. People get sick. Shit happens. And someone's gotta take care of people when they're down and out and when they feel most vulnerable.

But hey - why not make people laugh on the way? Laughter is the best medicine anyway, isn't it?

Rant-A-Palooza

2007-12-13T15:05:00.000-05:00

I was talking to my friend about ranting, and told her about how much I rant on my own time. I looked back at this blog and realized that I don't rant as much as I thought. So to prove I'm not a liar, I'm going to let out a lot of steam I've stored up. Here it goes...

I can't stand people who dominate a conversation by being loud as fuck and trying to be funny. I mean, we're two feet away from eachother, do they have to put their voice out to full volume. I mean, this friend that I'm takling about can't even whisper. It's like she's one of those old people that overcompensate their voice because they can't hear themselves well. And I'm not exactly a fan of earmuffs, so you can understand my frustration when I have to wear them when we all hang out in mid-July. I swear, it's like talking to a child - who says EVERYTHING going on in their head, and at full volume. She tries to be funny. How? She makes fun of people. Is she funny? Not really. I've seen funnier car accidents than her jokes.
She dominates the conversation by being loud and obnoxious - she can be a good friend, but what she says is tough love isn't love, sometimes it's just being a bitch.

What the hell is up with people who IM you with nothing to freaking say?! That seriously annoys me. I have this friend, who's a pretty good guy and fun to hang out with. In person, he an alright guy. But whenever we're on AIM - holy fucking shit, man! I've tried IMing the guy just to see how he's doing; you know, catch up a bit. He replies with those standard one word replies like, "nm (nothing much)", "yeah", and "cool". I thought it was just me, maybe I was just boring the guy - but that can't be because I'm pretty damn amazing. But whenever he IMs me, I tell him about what's going on on my end, but when I shoot anything abck at him, it's the same freaking replies.
What the hell?! Why does he IM me, when he has nothing to say - NOTHING?!?
Talking to him online is like pulling teeth - from agitated Chihuahua. It's not deadly, but damn straight annoying to deal with.
Like I said, in person he's an alright guy - but online, I've had more fun wrapped in a wet blanket on my porch in January. No, I've never done that, but you get the picture.

Self-pity. I can't stand people who bitch bitch bitch, but do nothing about it. They just keep complaining. All they do is complain, but do nothing to fix the problem. That's like chewing bubble gum thinking that'll help you pass your Organic Chemistry exam. Now all of us complain every once and a while. It's human nature to question our present circumstances. If you're worried about an exam, go study - don't fuck around. If your unhappy with your family, go and fix it. If it means that much to you, then acrifice what ever it takes to get you back into that place again when you felt like it was a home. If you're so sad because you're single on Christmas, then go grab yourself a wifey and take her someplace nice.
Life isn't that hard at getting what you want; you just need to sacrifice once and a while. Anybody who's ever been happy can tell you that. Some people want their cake and to eat it too. And sometimes you can, but most of the time you can't without some sacrifice. And if you don't want to sacrifice,maybe you're just some spoiled lazy little shit who thinks the world owes you something when it doesn't. Maybe I'm wrong. I'm never really been a guy who had all the answers. So, prove me wrong.

I can't stand drunk messes - um, unless they're smoking hot. But what I can't stand are ugly-as-fuck drunk messes. It's worse if they're big girls being the loud party animals. It's disgusting. And I know at least three girls who fit the bill. There isn't a number of beers I can drink out there that'll give me the strong enough beer-goggles to go for them. They're loud. They're big. They get drunk and they get messy? It's like watch Chris Farley with a wig. Ugh, gross. If that's the kind of "fun" I wanted to be with, I would've stuck my finger in the wall socket. Lesson: Ladies, don't be a drunk mess; especially if you can pass for a gremlin, a dwarf, an Amazon warrior, or a dude.
But hey, if it's too late, you're still funny to watch. Kind of like a drunk baby Al Roker or the Michelin Man (who's fun to look at in any state).

I know this guy who talkes to me like he knows me. He's a fun guy and all, but when he's drunk he'll talk to me like he has all the wisdom of the world. Couple cans of beer and I can be as smart as you? Hell, I should get tanked every night when I study or right before I take a test. It's really annoying when he comes up to me and gives me advice (on everything from carreer, to friends, to family, love life). And almost everytime, hes talking right out of his ass - where poop comes from. If I wanted to hear shit, I'd - I'd - hm, I don't want to hear shit. Just drink and shut the fuck up already.

Now, I know I do my own things here and there that annoy people. We all do. Me I try to be funny, and never really shut up. It wasn't until somebody said that I talk to much that I decided to really listen to people, and see where they're coming from. It's kind of funny, who somebody who I haven't really knwn that long, points something out in me that I wanna change; that being that sometimes my mouth moves faster than my brain.
So maybe I wrote this so that maybe those people I know can see their annoying quirks and fix them.

Or maybe it just felt good to rant for once...

Doing Good

2007-12-10T17:22:00.000-05:00

You know what the weird thing about winter is? It's how early the sun sets. It's about 5:30 PM, but it feels like it's 10:something. Weird, huh? Just getting back home from church with the family. My brother even came home for the weekend. My mom's leaving for Japan and the Philippines on Tuesday and won't be back until after Christmas.
Sucks. especially since Christmas seaspn is one of those family times.

My brother's going back to school tonight. He was willing to talk the bus from Penn Station, but my doting and over-bearing mom said we'd drive him back. "We"; at the cost of me and my dad's sleep.
I asked if anybody would mind if I stayed home to study. I had one of those monster tests of 100 questions on trauma patients I really needed to rock on. Nobody minded. But I could tell my kid brother kind of did.
So I sucked it up, and went with them to drive my brother back. three and a half hours, each way. That's some good studying time gone bye-bye. But this is time with my family. And it's kind of a mini-roadtrip. And with my family, roadtrips are our family time.

After a good drive out, punctuated by singing out whatever Christmas lyrics we knew playing out on station after station (three hours on the road pulls you in and out of station ranges more than a drunken prom night - know what I mean?). LIke every family drive, it was a good time. Four hours later, we were on our way back home and I was up to drive.

It was a cold, wet and windy night. After about thirty minutes in, we see this car spin out and smack into an SUV. I pulled over right away, and my and my dad jumped out to check if people were alright. Everyone was ok, except for a little 10 year old girl who was limping on her right leg. It's always the little ones.
We waited for EMS and the police to show up, and let whoever was riding sit in our minivan to keep warm and dry. About an hour later, the mess was cleared up and reports were filed, the police gave rides to whoever was in the accident and we were on our way back home to New York. I thought to myself how most EMT's can be dicks, there only to do the job - if there's no one really hurt, no biggie. Why? You're an EMT in Bumblefuck, Rhode Island - Do you REALLY have something "better to do"?! Assholes.
Me? I'll be different.

We got home three hours later, coming home a little before 6:00 AM. I was tired. My dad was too. My practically slept the whole way home. On my way up to my room, my dad said "You did good tonight."
My mom said, "Goodnight, superhero." I laughed thinking about how well my mom knew me. And I smiled hering some affirmation form my dad, which comes only once and a while.

So what if I missed some study time, which I really needed. I did good by my family by coming out tonight. I did good by strangers on a cold, wet and windy road.

I did good tonight. I did good.

Now - gotta study, and find some time to clean my room...

Just Go

2007-12-08T22:23:00.000-05:00

"Do whatever you can do to help. Just go." -Nick Gerstle

There are all different kinds of people in my EMT class. Some are people fresh out of college. Some people are going out for their second or third job. Most of them are ordinary people; the kind of people you probably wouldn't take a second-look at on the streets. and few of those people have ever done something extra-ordinary. Here's one story.

Me? I boast about being a hero; but most of the time I feel I'm just kidding myself. I'm just a guy running around in street clothes, pretending I have a red cape tied around my neck. I'm just an ordinary guy just like the next. But today I met someone heroic; that kind of person that just being able to know fills with some kind of pride.

During our lunch break today, I sat down and chatted it up with one of my classmates. I asked him why he decided to go into the EMS field. He told me how he was rescued by some EMT's on 9-11. I knew he was an engineer for Verizon, and their headquarters was around the towers. I asked what he was doing on the site.
He rushed in there to see if his sister, who worked in one of the towers, was alright. She was fine. But he stayed nearby.

The towers fell.

He was just an engineer, but he was certified in CPR and First Aid. So taking what he knew, he went out there to Ground Zero. While the rest of us was caught up in the media frenzy, sitting slack-jawed in front our TVs, all cozy and safe in our homes.There he was on the front line, helping out our city in our most tragic time. He was elbow to elbow with a couple of Marines as they dug out two Port Authority Policemen who were buried under the rubble; you remember the story from the movie World Trade Center.

Later he was taken into EMS care for heat inhalation from the smoky and still glowing debris. En route out of Ground Zero, former-Mayor Rudy Guiliani shook his hand and commended him on his heroism.

More then six years later, there he is next to me in EMT class. He showed me his picture from the New Yorker with him on a stretcher being treated by EMT's. Not much to the guy, besides his biceps the size of my head. No joke, they're gi-normous! But he's a real humble guy, kind of like a gentle giant.
His name is Nick Gerstle, and I'm proud to say I know the guy.

I'm on my way to becoming an EMT to make my mark as a hero. But here's this guy, only two years older than me, he has more than made his mark already; he has even worked side-by-side with other heroes. I feel like I'm standing next to Superman - um, a big half-German half-Samoan Superman.

So if some guy can come out and help others, especially when shit hits the fan, then why can't we?
Because we're busy? Nick was busy too. He had his sister and the rest of his family to look after. After all, he was just an engineer.
Because we're scared?
What's scarier than being on top of an unstable smoldering mountain of debris with gas pockets going off around you?!

If you have the heart to help, no one can stop you but yourself. And Nick said that we should do whatever we can do to help, we just go.

Just go.

You can read more on Nick's story here: http://www.cnn.com/SPECIALS/2002/america.remembers/stories/tower/nick.html

Motivation Proclamation

2007-12-04T02:36:00.000-05:00

Currently listening to: Good Charlotte - "Motivation Proclamation"

Motivate me
I wanna get myself outta this bed.
Captivate me
I want good thoughts inside of my head.
When I fall down would you come around
Pick me right up off the ground?
When I fall down would you come around
Pick me right up off the ground?

They say that everyone has one person to inspire them. Someone who pushes you further than you've ever gone before. Someone who cheers you on, and knowing that they're there on the sidelines watching you makes you fight harder. Someone who believes in you so much that it shakes you deep down into your bones.
I used to have that person, that one somebody who I would push myself for; to the point where I felt I could break any second. But now I don't.

Here I am tonight, thinking about all the changes that have been happening to me in the past few years. The good calls I made. And the bad ones. Sometimes, I look back and wonder if all this change was for "the greater good". I don't know. And I wish someone could tell me. But I guess this is something I'm going to have to find out for myself.
An old friend used to say, "If you can make yourself laugh, then you can get yourself out of any situation." Well, I'm going to take that a little further.

If you can believe in yourself when the odds are against you, then there really is no need for a cheerleader on the sidelines watching you. what exactly is the deal abuot worrying what other people think about you? Me, I've worried about that all my life.
But the thing is, everybody wants - no, needs - somebody to stand by them. Somebody to at least tell you that you're still fighting the good fight.

Today there was a call. A 60-something year old woman who feel and cut the back of her head. It wasn't as bad as it looked. And if you could see and hear the terror in this old lady, you would probably laugh like my partners did. I admit, I did too. Her cry was something like a dolphin mating call (not like I heard one before or anything). But she was still freaking out.
So I took her hands and told her that she was going to be completely fine. She still freaked out, but I didn't let go. I held on as she prayed some kind of prayer. Honestly, Catholics got a prayer for practically everything!

After the call, one of my partners told me that I should be a grief counselor or something. He told me how when he first started, he was afraid to touch patients; but me, I just dived right in and took her hand. It felt good to know you were doing something right.

They say you shouldn't take your home with you, especially in this line of work. But tonight, I kind of feel like that old lady. Scared to know what's going to happen next. Scared to be left alone with the "boo-boo"s of your past. But I guess I need to be stronger. This time not for anybody else, but stronger for me.

Tally-Ho

2007-12-03T01:16:00.000-05:00

As a kid, I wanted to be a lot of things growing up. I wanted to be a pilot. I wanted to be a superhero. I wanted to be a scientist. I wanted to be the President. I actually at one time wanted to be a dinosaur.
A couple years ago, I was watching this medical biography on the Discovery Health channel. The story was on a New York City paramedic. The last shot was of him riding out of the station and into the city streets on his motor cycle. And I thought, "Wow, I want that to be me."

I just got back from my first rotation on the ambulance. Rotations are like half-intern half-pledge work. My job was to take vitals and lug around a 20-something pound bag with an oxygen tank inside. But most of the night was spent on the ambulance watching DVDs and eating. I picked a night shift because I thought that shit happens at night. Apparently, more shit happens in the day time. I got about five hours of sleep ahead of me before I'm back out on the streets.

I feel a calling is where your desires and the world's needs meet. So here I am, making my way into something I feel is my calling. I'm not a pilot, but I'll be flying down the streets. I'm not a superhero, but I'll be there when people need help. I'm not a scientist, but I'll be making advances to save somebody's life one day. I'm not the President, but I'll be respected in my community. I'm not a dinosaur, but I'll - I'll - umm, I'm not a dinosaur.

There I was, diving into the night on my way into becoming an EMT. Quoting Spider-Man when he first web-slinged (and crashed into his face)...

Tally-ho.

Frater

2007-12-01T22:29:00.000-05:00

Junior year. I just got back from a summer in Japan and I'm back with the same room-mate in the same room. This Chinese freshman lives down the hall. I don't know why, but I don't like the kid. Maybe because he has all these friends around him? Maybe because he plays guitar with his door wide-open? Maybe because he's so much like me when I was a Freshman that I'm a little jealous?
Such passion. Such optimism. Such Naivetè.
Was I any different? Not at all.

After a long day of classes, I like to kick back in my room with my guitar. Out of nowhere, this kid comes in and says how he hears a guitar. He was better than me at guitar - a lot better.
This guy comes by every now and then and hangs out with me and my room-mate. I'm barely in my room, but when I come back to the hal there he is hanging out in my room.
He moved to another room on the other side of the building, but he still came down to hang out.

Summer time rolls around. Cruise to the Caribbean with the family. And guess who I see on the boat. There's that guy from the hall again, getting ice cream with his kid brother. I called out to him, but he couldn't hear me. So I sneak up to the ice cream machine and I just stare at him. His little brother is a little weirded out and tells him someone's staring at him. He freaked out.
It was good to have a friend from school on the cruise too. Definitely one of the bsst summer's ever.

Back to school. And this guy is now coming into the club that I jsut got plugged into. He's got a lot of ideas. During his first time in a cabinet meeting, he was so careful not to step on anybody toes. Who knew he'd become president of the club someday.
I started pledging, and he was one of three people I told that I was pledging. It was supposed to be hush-hush, but I missed my spending time with my friends.

In a fraternity. Done with college. But I never forgot my friend. I made a point not to ditch them. I was never really good at keeping friends, but I made sure this batch of friends was here to stay. ME and him have been through thick and thin. We always make sure we push eachother to be the ebst person we can be.

The other day, I pulled a prank on him and he got really mad. REALLY mad. I began to wonder if this could be the end of an era. IN the end, friendship came around. We were good sports in the end; but you can bet he's gonna find a way to retaliate somehow.

I always find myself complicating my life with too many promises to too many people. Sometimes I wish I could jsut cut some people out and simplify it all.
You need family. You need a friend. You need a girl.
Well in a simpler life, I got my friend right here.

Here's to you brother...
\m/ HOLLAH! \m/

Comedy in Tragedy

2007-11-30T03:31:00.000-05:00

Schadenfreude. It's one of my favorite words. It's a German word which means an elation in the misfortune of others. Seems like a twisted concept, doesn't it?
Getting off on the shit that happens to people?! And you call yourself one of the "good guys". Who are you kidding? What kind of sadistic mental case would enjoy that?

Well, me; and I'm sure you in your own twisted way do too. I smile when I see some girl walking on a windy rainy day and her umbrella all of a sudden POOFS inside out. I laugh when I see an old man slip on an icy patch and bust his bottom. I crack up when I'm in an awkward situation with a couple is fighting.

Messed up? Maybe. But we all have our guilty pleasures. I mean my best friend, my number one confidant, cracks up in my face whenever I'm mad. And that only makes me madder, which makes him laugh harder. Asshole.
But it's okay, because there are times I laugh right back at him for something stupid.

I'm writing about this because something weird has been happening to me lately. I think I'm taking this schadenfreude thing to another level; to a point where it could be just plain sick. Things are getting really gross in my EMT class. The images are getting too real. I can barely look at the screen anymore. I sit right in front, and those images are ten feet tall in my face. I can barely sit still anymore. I must've pulled my hood over my head a hundred times and clicked my pen in anxiety two hundred. I can barely take it, and rotations haven't even started yet.

During the last class, something weird happened. I started laughing. Making jokes, corny jokes, but jokes left and right. One guy had an arrow in his throat and it came out the other side. I made some wisecrack that it must've been around Valentine's day. I haven't been twisting awkward in my seat anymore, I'm just laughing out loud.

This is my way to cope, but I don't think this is the right way to do that. Is there even a "right way"? Maybe not. At the beginning of all this, my instructor said that this is how most EMTs get the stress out of their system, so maybe this is only natural. But part of me still feels that this isn't right, and maybe I should just man up and take it and do my job. Someday, maybe I can do that. I'll definitely try.

But for now, I'll just laugh it off. Schadenfreude.

Please Keep Your Hands Inside the Vehicle at All Times

2007-11-28T04:12:00.000-05:00

What a night. A good night. I decided to swing by the university to see some people. I know I kind of graduated and all, but to me there's nothing like hanging around some friendly faces. After a good hur and a half driving, I made it out there.
My first stop was to swing by the new fraternity house. Everyone was out eating at a local steak place when I arrived. The only one there was my pledge brother and hsi girlfriend. We went out for some ice cream. I know, way too cold to enjoy ice cream, but he had a coupon and figured seeing me deserved some kind of mini-celebration. Afterwards, we went back to the house and played some mahjong with the other brothers.

It was getting past 8:00, and I promised my friend that I'd help him cook. But on the other hand, I haven't really spent time with the brothers. What to do? What to do?

I left the house a little past 10:00. On my way out, my pledge brother said I should swing by the house more often, I casually nodded and walked to my car. I have to admit, it was kind of good to hang out with him again. But I was on my way to the dinner I was supposed to help prepare. I finally found everybody and snuck in the back. I'm not very good at hiding.
Everyone shouted my name, and I felt like I was king of the room. It's good be seen, and to be missed. To feel like people want you around.

Swung by the city on my way home and hear I am, read to crash. I only regret that I'm not exactly the most punctual nor most consistent person out there. Maybe it's my own fault for making too many promises. Tomorrow, there's a dinner in the city that I said I'd be around to catch. But truth be told, I'll be busy with my own stuff that night; stuff I can't exactly skip out on. Knowing me, I'm going flake. But maybe it's best I didn't show. Afterall, there's somebody that's going to be there that I'm kind of trying to avoid until I get my life straightened out.

Life goes on. Shit happens, and the ride can get a little bumpy. But life goes on. And with the right people in your life, you feel like any ride, good or bad, is a smooth ride.
Me? I'm enjoying the ride.

Black and White and Gray

2007-11-19T23:10:00.000-05:00

It's a cold day in the city. I'm beginning to realize just how much I'm beginning to like fall. The ambience is something unique. The cold breeze beating against your face. The warm air channeling from your mouth, up the scarf and into your eyes. The crunch of the leaves satisfies your feet. In these moments, you can feel that the world was made for you. Maybe it's the meloncholy skies that match your insides, but these days, the world is made for you.

I'm walking with a friend today in the city. Never really got to be with her outside of school until now. We're handing around South Street Seaport and this woman is walking with her son as he's rolling around in one of those toy plastic cars. The kid had to be about four years old

He catches a slope and begins rolling down into the street. A truck is rolling across and fast. The mother screams. The kid unaware of it all is just enjoying the ride. Come on kid, move. Move!
Think fast. Think faster. Gotta think fast. I dash to the kid and grab him and his car just as the truck rolls past. The mother's freaking out and thanks me.
I smile and told the kid to be careful in the future. Me and my friend just continued on our way to Battery Park.

I have to say that that was one of my proudest moments out of many. My friend said something to me later. With a bunch of things that happened that day, she said, "You make everyone in this city smile. We need more people like you out here."

I took those words to heart and have since lived my life for others. Taking care of myself was never one of my fortès. If anything, looking after myself has just been my greatest foible. If everybody had eachother's backs, a lot of good things could happen. You wouldn't even have to worry so much about what's before you if you know that someone's out there looking after you.

Unfortunately in this world, there are a lot of scumbags. People who look out for themselves and would cut down others to get what they want. But I can hope that someone out there would follow in the footsteps of all the good people in past.

Live for others. And others would live for you.
But there's a point when you have to be prudent and look out for yourself. Because if you can't help yourself, then how can you be strong enough to help others?

Me? I'm still trying to figure out where that point is.

Smiles for the Birthday Boy

2007-11-18T01:43:00.000-05:00

Well, here I am back at school. I have this apartment on campus. It's supposed to be a double, but I have no room-mate. I kind of miss my old room-mate. I mean, we lived together for three years straight in the same room. But the freedom feels good. Sometimes change is good.

Tonight we went to Hooter's. I've never been there before, but hey! I'm turning 21. I see a lot of good friends there. I order myself a Mountain Dew. Ok, 21 years old now, why don't I order a beer or something? I don't know, but I just like Mountain Dew. And there you are.

We take a couple pictures together. Me posing with my driver's license, and you shoving your hand in my face. We take a couple more pictures on my camera phone, just you and me. We smile. Ok, that's standard protocol. We make a goofy face, like we're bubbles or something. We make drunk faces (or something weird).
I really liked the bubble picture. You didn't like the smile picture, and you deleted it off my phone; luckily not before I e-mailed it to myself. What can I say, I'm just too quick for you.

But I smiled. I smiled a weird bubbly smile. One of my favorite pictures. Everyone remembers their 21st birthday. I just got one more reason to remember tonight.

Thanks for the smiles tonight.

Muse

2007-11-18T01:19:00.000-05:00

What a summer it's been so far. New friends. New experiences. New life. Everything jsut seems to be looking up. I just finished up summer classes up at school and jsut moved out of the friend's house I was staying in. It was a steal! $350 for a room with utilities, cable on a balcony from my room. On top of that, we had a dog named Yuna. I don't know much about dogs, but she looked like a little white pom-pom. I used to jsut lie in bed and watch movies.
Even though I had a little girl trouble for a bit, the summer so far has been real refreshing.

I'm on a cruise right now and guess who I ran into. A college friend. Me and him actually lived in the same hall for a bit. I saw him getting ice cream with his kid brother, and I just stood there "grilling" him. Even though I was there with my family (and then some) it was good to see him. I have to admit at first I didn't like the guy. Maybe because he was so happy whenever I saw him, all fresh and wide-eyed from high school and there I was jaded by my years at school. Maybe because he reminded me so much of me when I was a freshman. Maybe because he was so much of a genuine good guy that had to hate him. Or maybe because he's just better than me at guitar.
But that was then, and I have a feeling this is a guy I can really connect with. I have a feeling me and him are going to be real good friends - no, brothers, down the line.

I've been working out a lot this summer. I figured that since life has been changing all around me, maybe I should gamble on more change. I've been playing a lot of handball: the street sport of good old New York City Asians. But here on this boat, there isn't exactly a wall I can play on. So I've been hitting them gym, and hitting it hard. It's been hitting me back.
It's tiring. It's draining. But in the end, i feel energized like that Energizer Bunny. I just kept going, and going, and going and - well, you get the picture.
At times when I feel I can't push myself any harder, I think of you.

I think of seeing you when summer's over and we're back at school. I think of you cheering me on. I think of you, and I'm running. I let it all out of you. And in that moment, when I can just make out your face, I dig in deep inside me and keep going. Because I just imagine you, waiting on the other side of finish line, on the other side of the finish line. It's you. And I go.

I don't know why. I can't exactly figure it out tonight, but you inspire me. I can only hope that you'll still inspire me the next day, week, month, year, or years. It's all in my head, but there you are.
I see you, and I go.

I keep on going.

Instant Message

2007-11-14T03:24:00.000-05:00

It's a slow night. And I'm tired of studying. I need a break.
What better way to clear your head than to just talk to people, right?
I had your screen name. I don't know how.
Small talked. And then you told me about your ex-boyfriend and all the drama there.
I didn't know what to say, and I can't even remember what I said. I was kind of blind-sided by it.

I mean, seeing you beaming with energy, I couldn't imagine how that could've happened to you.
But life pulls fast ones on you like that, and my heart went out to you tonight, and I heard you out. Back to studying, remembering all that you told me. I had other things on my mind.
Studying. Fellowship responsibilities. One girl. Another girl. And somewhere in there, everything you told me.

I felt you needed a hero. Maybe that could've been me, but you're the kind of person who manages to land back on their feet.

Hero? Psh. You're your own hero.
One day, you'd be mine too.

Serenade to the Cynics

2007-11-14T02:59:00.000-05:00

Just another night, lounging around at home. A real quiet night, until I got a call from a friend to go out to the St. John's campus and watch there Filipino cultural show. Why not? I wasn't really doing anything that night. So after getting a ride from a friend out to Queens to rendezvous with some other friends, we made our way to campus. When we got there, there was some Filipino food served before the show. I saw a lot of old friends, and a bunch more from my own school.
Sometime while I was catching up with some people, you came in. And just before we went into the auditorium too. Good timing.

We found some seats in the middle. You sat in front of me, a little to the right. You had your hair pulled back and wore a polka-dotted scarf across the top of your head. You looked like someone straight out of the 60s. The show was complete with your typical musical performances, cultural and modern dances, and of course tinikling. It was soaked with as much drama as those Spanish soap operas. Every now and then, this guy would pop up high to the right of the stage with a brick background and sing us a couple of his own songs.

I mean during a scene, he jsut popped out of nowhere! We both laughed at how pathetic it looked, all alone up there waiting with his guitar. All those sappy love songs he was singing. I said how someone should've throawn a battery at the guy, and you just laughed. We were harsh. We were cynical. I can't help but laugh just thinking about it.

Maybe it was a little too emo for your taste. But I gotta admit, the guy was good and maybe I was just jealous of the attention he got from the girls in the audience.

But I did get the attention of one girl tonight:
the girl with the polka-dotted scarf in her hair.

Benedict

2007-11-14T02:51:00.000-05:00

Just another night out, with a bunch of new friends. I had just started getting out into the world. I was joining a couple of new clubs; and at the same time, moving away from old friends.
There were dance team try-outs tonight. I thought about trying out, figuring my experience in all those Sweet 16s and Debuts would have rubbed off on me. And there you were. Dancing. I would always be seeing you dancing. So carefree and moving to the rhythm with ease, as though that's what you were born to do.

I stepped to dance a bit. Maybe just to goof around and show-off. Maybe just to get talk to you.
There you were by my side teaching me what you knew. And there I was copying ever step, every lean, ever clap, every turn. You said I was pretty good, with a smile on your face. Maybe you were jsut being nice. Or maybe I was just that freaking awesome.

A couple of people came in, serious to join the dance team, so I just sat on the side with the rest of our friends, and watched the rest of the try-outs. It was a short night, and I just made my way back to our friends place to hang out a bit more that night. The night was young and so was I. Places to go and people to see.

But it was nice to finally meet you.

Chelsea

2007-11-14T02:34:00.000-05:00

I went ice skating tonight down at Chelsea Piers, and as usual I looked awesome. Well, not for the first five minutes on ice. I tried showing off my old hockey skills and just ended up busting my ass on giving myself a cold wedgie. Let me tell you, there's no better way to humble yourself than to have some shaved ice ride up your pants.
After getting some new skates, ones that fit better. I was moving with ease. This one guy, I could never remember his name, asked me to teach him how to stop "the cool way". You know what I mean, stopping on your side and shaving some ice up high. He kept on trying over and over again, reminding me how bad I used to be at skating. I mean when I tried out for the hockey team back in high school, I couldn't stop. I just spun myself around and slammed my back onto the boards. Thank God that's not me on the ice anymore.

i didn't notice you then. You probably didn't even notice me there tonight, but you were there. I can't remember what you were wearing. I didn't even know your name. But you were there. We didn't talk. We probably didn't even have anything to talk about if we did.
But there I was, flying all smooth, forgetting about that class act Old Man Winter pulled on me earlier, and there you were on the side laughing with your friends.
We went to get something to eat down in Chinatown. You took a cab somewhere else with that guy you were with.

But you were there, and so was I.
I didn't even know your name.

Hooky

2007-11-12T23:19:00.000-05:00

Tonight, like every Monday and Wednesday night at 7:30 to 10:30 since mid-September until January, I had EMT class. But I didn't go.
Why not? My dad fronted up good money, and it wasn't for me to go around skipping classes. But tonight, something different was in the air, or maybe it was just me. While running some errands, I thought where do all these roads go? I've lived here all my life, shouldn't I find out? And that's what I did tonight. I mean, I never was the hooky type before. In high school, I was practically dating my test tubes, and was cheating on them with my textbooks.. But that was then.
So I left home early to just drive, I did plan to go to class, but then I realized I didn't even have my ID on me. Plus, I've missed scheduling my rotations because I haven't had my immunizations up to date. Heck, I don't even have a general practitioner. with all that going through my head, I just decided to get driving. Before I knew it I was in the Southern part of town.
I drove through a lot of long winding roads, which made me think I wasn't even in New York anymore, but some back road in Bumblefuck, NJ. And who'd want to be there?

I don't know why I did that tonight? Maybe it was my little run-away. Maybe sub-consciously I don't want to be an EMT. Or maybe I was simply bored. Who knows? But I did get to clear my head a bit.
Life's pretty ordinary these days. I feel like my real life doesn't begin until I start those late-night calls for the FDNY. But now a days, nothing seems to be happening. Nothing bad. But nothing good either (or is it "neither"?). Just nothing. Just writing that makes it kind of depressing - and pathetic.

I guess that's why I love going back to the old campus every now and then. Because there, I feel alive again. Just being in good company does that to you, you know? Of course, I got my own friends from school who graduated here in the city, but with everything happening between me and this friend, I'm trying not to run into her. But I do miss her.

You know that latin phrase, Carpe Diem, "Seize the day"? Well, I have to Carpe-FREAKIN'-Diem. I've been meaning to head to the Brooklyn Botanical Garden and take some pictures, but the weather has been so crappy - and not to mention, colder than the balls of the Tibetan monk (not that I'd know of course). I also have meaning to meet up with some friends up in Columbia after flaking on them. But then again, I feel more obliged to visit, than for the sake of really seeing them.
That's the funny thing about me, if I have to be there, I won't feel like being there.
Hint of a commitment issue there? Maybe.

But I should definitely be out there. I mean if I can be a fun guy around people, can't I be that same fun guy for myself?

I think so. God, I hope so.

The Night My Gwen Stacy Died

2007-11-11T01:59:00.000-05:00

Peter Parker, also known as you're friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, didn't always love Mary Jane Watson. There was another girl, Gwen Stacy. They were good for each other. Sure, they hit they're hard times but they were happy. They probably would have spent the rest of their lives together. Would have. Little did Peter know, they'd only spend the rest of her life together. She died, and worse thing about it is that Peter might have killed her. After the Green Goblin knocked her off the Brooklyn Bridge, Peter shot out a web line to try to catch her before she hit the water. He caught her. She stopped - but maybe to fast, and her neck snapped via Newton's First Law of Motion. Peter's in trying to save her killed her. Now, she would have died if she hit the waters, but she died because of his action. Gwen died because of him. In the end, he really hit the jackpot and ended up with Mary Jane in the end, but only because of the death of Gwen Stacy.

I'm losing a friend now. All because of what I did and how I felt in the past for her. She was a great friend, but I thought maybe more. Fall-out. I don't know what to think about her - or even myself.I miss her. I only hope she misses me too, but the only way to save this friendship is to knock out those other feelings. I have to kill that part of me, and say good-bye to that dream-girl, my Gwen Stacy. Otherwise, my life will end up a mess. I'll be second-guessing myself. I'll be questioning if I'm still "the good guy". And I am the good guy. I'm the hero!
Just as in Peter Parker's story Gwen Stacy had to die, and my Gwen Stacy has to die in my mind's Brooklyn Bridge. Otherwise, there can be no Mary Jane Watson to save this Peter Parker's life; better than it was with Gwen Stacy.

I have to kill my Gwen Stacy. Otherwise, I'll lose a friend - you. And you'll lose a friend - me. I'll keep second-guessing myself. I'll keep losing my identity. And I won't be able to let someone save my life for once. I am gonna miss you Gwen.
But, this is what has to happen to save my friend. To save your friend.
I have to save my life. I have to let someone save my life.

I guess fate's in my hands - umm, or heart.
I'll miss you, Gwen. Goodnight.

Villain in a Red Cape

2007-11-11T00:11:00.000-05:00

Imagine this: You liked this girl. I mean you were head over heels for this girl. Something happened, and there's a fall-out. You two don't exactly talk anymore. You try. You call. But nothing. No phone calls returned. Nothing. You try talking online, but can't seem to get past the small talk. You two were pretty good friends. She cheered you on through your hardest times. And you were always ready to hear out her story. But now a days, you're nothing.
Now there's someone you really didn't like. Sure, of course you respected them as a person, as a brother. But when it comes down to the nitty-gritty, you didn't like the guy. Now here's the kicker. That girl, the one who would always inspire you to be a better man, she's been spending time with this guy. Not you. If anything, she's been avoiding you. Now you're the bad guy.
Now what are you supposed to do? To feel? Kind of a given, don't you think.

You get mad. You get crazy. You begin to think "Is he 'better' than me?". And in the end, you feel like a loser. Plain and simple.

In the back of my head, through out all things I've done in my past, good and bad, you always thought about what she thought of it all. It sounds kind of weak, to worry so much about what someone else thinks of you. But is it "weak"?
Exactly what the hell is wrong with me? Why him? Why him?!

Am I boring? Am I a loser? Am I that bad?

I wanted to just wail out. Break something. I didn't wanna punch the wall (I mean come on, my place just got renovated). So I punched myself in the face a good number of times.
Exactly what the hell am I? Am I really a hero? Or just a menace in "a hero's skin"? I mean, I can't help it. I just want some fucking affirmation, to know that I'm still... good. Because lately, a lot of things are showing me that I'm not.
Somebody tell me I am. Somebody show me I am. Because lately, I can't help but feel like the loser.

I'm saving lives aren't I? I am a hero. That's gotta mean something.
But not tonight. Tonight I'm a loser.
Tonight I'm the villain in a red cape.

The Calling

2007-11-07T22:08:00.001-05:00

Today I woke up earlier than usual for a disaster drill at the hospital at 8:30 AM. It was a trip.
Basically, I had to act as a patient involved in a chemical lab explosion with an eviscerated abdomen. I put on this fake wound, with my intestines pouring out my side. My instructor sprayed me down with some fake blood and - Tada! I'm a trauma patient. I was also wearing my swim shorts underneath, since it was a hazmat situation and I might have had to be decontaminated in the showers. And there's nothing more awkward than having total strangers scrub you down; unless of course that stranger was Jessica Alba. Can you say "Hottie"?
Luckily it was too cold to go through it all. After all, it was just a drill. The funny thing is that I ran into my God-sister's younger brother there (I guess that makes him my God-brother? I'm not too sure how that works). He was recording the whole drill for the staff. It turns out he's a nurse now, I think. And he figured out I'm going to be an EMT.

Something has been bugging me lately about all this EMT stuff. And it's something I shouldn't be worrying too much about. It's what other people think about me becoming an EMT. Basically, any high school shmo can become an EMT. Me? I'm a 23 year-old college "graduate" with almost a Psychology degree under my belt. Shouldn't I be pursuing something... "higher"? Here's what I think.
I've spent about five years at the university. I learned a lot about myself, but mostly, I learned a lot about people, how their minds work and how they function within relationships. Because let's face it, us humans are social creatures. We thrive on interactions. And with what I've learned in college in both the classroom and with the people I know, I feel I can really put to good use out there on the streets. "But why not a counselor or advertising?"
People are their most vulnerable when they're in pain. Emotions are raw. The moment matters. That's when someone needs to step in and tell you that everything - everything, will be alright.
Well, that and I gotta admit that I get a thrill when I see all the blood and nasty injuries. I can't exactly stomach it all yet, but it does make me feel more alive.

And that's what I stick by. What are most people doing every day? Crunching numbers. Filing papers. Collating. Filing TPS reports and what-not.
Me? I'll be on the front line seeing the ugly. While most people are comfy in their cubicles, I'll be on the streets. Sure, I'll be starting at $15 an hour, but you can't put a price on the things you see out there.
So no matter what people say or how people will question me,
this is my calling... on these mean streets.

Magically Delicious

2007-11-06T19:59:00.000-05:00

A whole lot of nothing seems to be happening to me lately. But on the other hand, a good bunch of somethings have been popping up here and there. Kind of like the marshmallows in your breakfast cereal. My life is Lucky Charms; a cereal that is mostly chunks of cardboard, punctuated by powdery suger puffs.

The cereal chunks of my life are the day to day business - bland, and sometimes brutually tough. It hurts my head (and my mouth) thinking about the cereal chunks. The marshmallow bits are much more - flavorful.

For the Halloween weekend, I dressed up as emo - well, technically I was goth for a night because I went to far into the "dark side"). So there I was, in tight black jeans, black converses, black nail polish, tattoos down my arm, a wig, and black eye-liner to accentuate that emo feel. And let me tell you, it's amazing how you look on the outside seeps deep into your psyche making you act - not quite yourself. Usually I'm a happy go-lucky guy, willing to play the jester just win a smile on someone's face, sometimes I'm the only one that smiles. But that night, I wasn't exactly the life of the party. I was so wrapped in my image I began to act - emo. It's funny thinking back on it, but that night it was weird; like a shock of cognitive dissonance echoed in me. It was weird to say the least.
I had it in my head that I was going to be the Human Spider - you know, from that wrestling scene in the first Spider-Man movie. But everyone saw it coming, so I figured I'd go with something a little more surprising.
Me being emo. A surprise to no one - but yours truly.

That night on the way to the Halloween party, I had a feeling that the woman sititng in front of me on the R train was talking about me in Spanish with her friend. No biggie.
She had a mustache. No matter what she says, she loses by default.

I met up with my friends, but we never got into the party at Roseland. Some joker decided to start trouble inside the party and that brings the police in to shut down the line. The party was outside on the line anyway. We made our way to St. Marks. We karaoked for a good two hours. Best karaoke session ever - and most painful. While singing "Bohemian Rhapsody" with the guys, we decide to start a little moshpit during the instrumental break. One ill-timed landing and one misplaced bump later, I'm sent flying into the corner. All I remember is that the floor disappeared, and a touble corner found its way to my back. Note to self: Mosh sideways and in, never up and out.
Two of my friends were sitting down, and had just broken up. The room was ringning with R&B classics, and I loved the look on their faces: Two people trying to ignore the cathartic call of the song, sitting next to eachother staring off into the distance and completely aware of who was next to them. Maybe it was the beer, and maybe it was just out right funny. They're back together though, for that I'm very happy.
I have a bunch of good memories in that neighborhood. Now I have one more.

One night, my cousin's girlfriend called me up and told me they had broken up. He confessed to me that he had hit her. And here's this girl crying her eyes out on the phone. I couldn't help but feel a bit annoyed. I had EMT class in less than an hour, and a girl I barely talk to is spilling her heart out to me. But I did what any good guy would do, I heard her out - even though, I wanted so bad to just make up an excuse. So there I was mustering up whatever empathy I could for a "stranger". I admit I was annoyed to be burdened out of the blue like that, even though my heart wasn't in it, I did the right thing and heard her out. They're back together working things out.

The next day I was my way up to visit some friends on campus, and a friend called me to tell me she had just broken up with her boyfriend, my friend. I bagan to think that maybe there was a sign slapped on my forehead reading, "When Shit Hits the Fan with Your Man - Call this Guy". I was willing to hear this one out though, because she's a friend, not a stranger. I told her I'd take some time out to visit her and her room mate. I flaked on those plans. Those two aren't back together. I could've read that he wasn't as into her as she was in him.

I just spent the last five days at the good old university. I felt that I needed to break out from the mundane, so there I was in good company. And man it was great. I couldn't even begin to write how great it was because - you have to be me and you have to be them to know. Ups and downs, but over all it was a good time.

So after watching a video online where this girl takes the cinnamon challenge (try to swallow a spoonful of cinnamon in one shot). Me and another buddy of mine suckered our friend to do it, and then another friend. After recording the ordeal and the expressions on their faces, we owed it to them to try it ourselves. Big mistake. My throat closed up with the quickness and choked over the kitchen sink for a good minute or two. You know that disclaimer they put on videos of extreme stupidty? I learned you really should listen to them.

My best friend was getting intimate with two girls. But he made up his mind on who, but he still lead the other girl on.
Somehow I often find myself in the middle, like a third wheel, or even a fifth wheel. I got fed up with it one night and just set out on my own. I was especially annoyed at my friend. He knew the right thing to do, but he ignored it. Maybe I'm being too hard on the guy. But when he reminded me of how bad I fucked up when I was talking to a girl from California with a boyfriend, I promised him I'd dead it. And I did for the most part. It sucks for me, because I really miss that girl. But for him, he knows the right thing to do and he ignored it; it's like he wanted his cake and to eat it too. But some people don't even have cake to eat. They get pudding (Okay, I don't know where I was going with that line).
It ended up biting him in the ass the other night, when that girl he was leading on saw him snuggling with the girl he had chosen. And now he feels guilty.
What could I say "You did the right thing"? I'm not going to feed the guy sugar-coated lies to make him feel better.
He fucked up. He's going to take responsibility and move forward. Because he's just that kind of guy, to always, no matter how bad it might get, he moves forward.
Me? I'm just going to do some damage control and hope things will work out in the best interest of both sides. Because she's a sweet girl and and I wouldn't want her to get sour. And he's my best friend; if anyone's gonna have his back, shouldn't that person be me?

So here I am. Lucky Charms. And life is magically delicious, sometimes too sweet with all these couples running around. I always wonder when that girl will come around.
One of the things I absolutely hate hearing is "Don't worry about it, that girl will come around if you don't look for her". I've heard it so much, I hate hearing it. It's such a cop-out thing to say.
I believe in life, you have to go out and pursue what you want.
Because if you just scoop out what life throws at you, you'll get hurt by most of the bland-cardboard-chunks-that-cut-the-roof-of-your-mouth you'll pick up. You have to go out and find those marshmallows.

And when all is said it done, drink the milk. Because in the end life is too good to pour it all down the drain.

Hiding Sick

2007-10-21T02:44:00.000-04:00

"Responsibility means you don't run away when someone asks, 'Who did that?'"
-Aunt May of Amazing Spider-Man

Whenever I'm along with my thoughts, like in my car or in the shower or even just sitting look up at the stars, I think of some of the stupid things I have done in my past and I curse at myself.
Fuck! Why did you do that? You're stupid.
And well, a certain something has been eating away at me for a while now. Something I wish I thought before I said. Now we all have those times, when our tongue moves faster than our heads. Me? I do it almost everyday. I can think of about three times it happened tonight. Sometimes I thought it just thought it made me genuinely honest. But most of the time it just makes me genuinely stupid. So what's this one stupid thing that's got me beating myself up every night?

About two months ago someone I really cared about (maybe still do) got blindsided by something horrible. She lost her brother in a motorcycle accident. After gathering up the courage to do something, I wrote to her. A short e-mail with the subject line: "Whenever You Wanna Read This" While writing that e-mail, I thought about all the people I had lost in my life, almost in tragic succession. My grandfather died in high school. My uncle died during the start of my freshmen year in college. My cousin disappeared at the beginning of sophomore year, and his mom (my aunt) died on the week of Christmas. My grandma died during Thanksgiving break in my junior year. And my friend died the summer after my senior year, before I could show her I crossed.
Every year in college, something bad appened. With that in my mind, I felt I had my share of tragedy in my life and I thought I had something to offer her. I don't know what exactly, but something.
In that e-mail, I had the wreckless audacity to say: "I know what you're going through."

Looking back, I didn't know what she was going through. And I still don't know.
Maybe I was too sure of myself living through the bad and coming out good.
Maybe I was too sure of myself at all.
In the end, I was wrong, and I had no right to even think I knew what she was going through.
Sure I lost all those people in my life, but none of them were a brother.

Everytime I hear about meeting up with her, or even the possibility, I get this major panic attack.
I'm lost for words, and part of me wants to run the hell out of there and into the other direction.
Pretty cowardly, huh? But after realizing the stupid things you said, you just want to run away and hide.
Hide from the shame. Hide from the guilt. Hide from the repercussions of what you said. Hide from the reminders of how stupid you were. Hide from the responsibility of your actions.

And hiding is a safe place to be. It's so easy too. You don't have to think about the negative "what if"s that bombard your brain and making you second guess yourself. And I hate second guessing myself. It makes me feel so weak. I mean if you're unsure of yourself, then how can you be sure of anything else.
Running away is just so easy.

But just because it's easy doesn't make it right. And I know the right thing to do. I gotta own up to what I did and fix it. And if I can't, it's alright, as long as I own up to it. Because it was me behind every stupid thing in my past. And if I hate second guessing myself so much, I can start fixing it by owning up to the actions and words to the people I am responsible to in my life.

I am responsible for everything I said and did in my life. And responsibility means not running away when someone asks "Who did that?"

Scars and Bandages

2007-10-16T22:09:00.000-04:00

After another night on the town, I even got a little time to myself at a local bookstore.
After getting back home and winding down a bit, I decided to call up a friend. This friend just broke up with her boyfriend, thinking about how she can't say "I love you" anymore to him. I don't need to hear words to know she loves him, I can hear it in the way she cries on the other line.
Now these two are both very good friends of mine; they both carry some of my own secrets. He seems to be adjusting well; keyword: seems. Her, she's torn up. After hearing her out on the phone, crying while she was talking to me, I couldn't help but feel for her.

Relationships are a funny thing. Me? I haven't been in a real relationship for as long as I can remember. But tonight, I really want this to work out for her.
Whenever I call the guy, he's as regular as rain in Spain (is there really that much rain in Spain?)
But whenever I call the girl, she's torn up. She really loves this guy. I can just feel it...
Now I never really believed in luck, but this guy is so lucky to have her; someone that misses the crap outta him. I think he misses her too, but he's jsut to proud to miss her back. Even though technically there aren't with each other write now, their thoughts are there. And I'm thinking "Wow, I want that."

Senior year of high school, I thought I found that exact thing. Two weeks and and there was a fall-out. No better word for it. It was like a nuclear bomb dropped between me and here, shattering what expectations we had in eachother and slowly killing off what hope was left. I saw her on September 11th. She was across the room in 5th period: Romance Philology (and no that isn't a typo) crying. And something deep inside me was telling me to go over there. I never did. We talked later in the year and grew close, eventually ending up on the same page. We liked each other. And I was ecstatic to have someone think of me, to believe in me so much. After the bomb dropped on us, I was devastated. She saw me differently. I saw myself differently.
And the girl who once see me as a hero saw me as a menace. That was my first love story.
I opened up my heart only to get myself ripped apart from the inside out.
What a scar, right?

Now I'm 6 years older. 6 years stronger. 6 years wiser.
Would I go back in time and change it. Maybe I would go back to that day in September and get my behind up and go to her... and just say goodbye after that. I can't do that, but a guy can just think of the what if's.
Life throws you a lot of pitches. Some are slow and straight. Some are crazy curve balls.
But sooner or later, you're gonna have to take a chance and just swing.
Just swing!

Unfinished Business

2007-10-16T02:42:00.000-04:00

So, here I am back in New York.

Well, actually I've been back for a week now. I just haven't written anything because, well - there really hasn't been anything to write about. Nothing really big.

Nothing really exciting going on lately. I guess that's fine. It's nice to have quiet nights around town. But it really leaves me hungry for some action.

Being back in New York made me remember all the things I got going for me right now. My brother. My friends. My future. My life is New York. Sure California was fun and all, and it's always good to have a change of pace. But I guess I feel like Dorothy, minus the red hair, ruby slippers, blue plaid dress and the ovaries.
There's no place like home.

EMT training is going well. Being away for a weekend did set me back and now I have to make up loads of work including child and infant CPR. I began comparing studying out here and studying in college. In college, you have the repercussion that if you don't know your stuff, you'll get a bad GPA and a hurt pride. Here, if you don't know your stuff, you could lose a life. Lives depend on my knowledge and experience. Wow...
Lives depend on me.

Man I love this stuff. Anyways, my little brother is away at college right now. We talked a little bit tonight about his faith. He wonders if his faith was his own authentic decision or maybe he was just going with the family flow. I told him this is one thing he is going to have to find out on his own. After all, things like a relationship (especially a relationship with God) can only be understood by two people: you and them. People on the outside can't really know what you two have got going for yourselves. Only you to do.

Two friends of mine have broken up. A guy who is like another me; we even share the same birthday! And a girl who I admit, I've always been awkwardly attracted to inside and out, but has become a friend who gets me. The guy is a lot like me, sometimes finding himself alone with his thoughts and ambitions. The girl shares with me this sense of responsibility; a resonsibility outside of herself for the people around her. It's sad to see this happen. And being a friend of both, I want to see them both happy. But what can I do, right? This is between them two. All I feel I can do is hear them both out and be there for both of them. This is between them...

My best friend is even doing pretty well with his romantic life. He's getting to know this girl. So far he likes this girl. She's driven, smart, and has got her head on straight. And I'm happy for him, but at the same time I'm a little jealous I guess. I mean seriously, when's it my turn?

I know, it's kind of pathetic and even a little emo for a guy to be thinking about a girl. But there's not even a name or a face to go with the girl I have in mind. God, am I becoming desperate? Wow, I hope not. I guess I'm just looking for someone. Someone to inspire me. Someone to cheer for me. Someone to fight for. Someone to die for. Someone to tear a hole in this endless night. Someone like... like... I don't know who. People tell me, "Don't worry about it. Just wait around and she'll come around. Don't look so hard." I fucking hate hearing those lines. And I'm not even looking as hard as people may think. Psh, cop out advice. And most of the time you don't want advice. Sometimes you just want to be understood.

One of my biggest fears is that'll end up old and alone. Even though I play the hero, sometimes I can't help but feel alone. But hey, I have no room in my head for a pity party. There's a lot of better things I should be thinking about. Life's too short to pity myself away licking the same damn wounds. I just have to suck it up, pick myself up off the ground and live. Live dammit. Live...

So hear I am back in New York. Same old goals. Same old responsibilities. And that's why I'm back here instead of living it up in California. Because in New York...

I got some unfinished business: my life.

Birds in My Ears and a Devil on My Shoulder

2007-10-04T03:29:00.000-04:00

Currently listening to: Cute is What We Aim For - "Risquè"

I've got birds in my ears
And a devil on my shoulder
And a phone to the other
And I can't get a hold of her
And what's a crush to do?
What's a crush to do when he can't get through?

Life's been a handful lately. I'm still "in between jobs". When people ask what am I up to lately, those three words are my standard reply. Job-hunting for anything lately just to pay the bills. On top of it all, EMT certification is a lot heavier than I expected. I'm barely staying on top of it all. I need to pick up my game.

This weekend I'll be going to California for my cousin's wedding. I've been missing out on a lot of family business lately. I missed my cousin's wedding reception after they were married in a court room and then I missed her wedding shower for the church wedding in California. When I was a kid, this is a cousin I used to want as a big sister. I thought if I stuck around her enough, she'd become my sister. So this time, I'm making sure I make it out there.
Unfortunately, I'll be missing my best friend's birthday party. I feel like shit for that.

This trip came earlier than I thought. My mind's been such a mess lately, that I can't keep track of what day of the week it is. Real smooth, huh?

But in about 24 hours, I'll be making my way to the West Coast.
And besides family out there, there's someone else out there.
Some girl in California.

I met her in Chicago. Her sorority and my fraternity were having a mid-year national conference to discuss some business. And what goes with these little "business trips" are parties. I met her outside on the night of the first party. I met her meaning, "I just got her name". Nothing more. Nothing less. Just another name. Just another girl. By the next night, I was sitting on the side, being your typical emo wall-flower, when another fraternity brother tells me to go out there and dance with a girl. Well, I didn't want to look like an idiot, so i grabbed the hand of the girl I met last night. To me she was just a less dolled up version of the girl I really cared about. I was surprised that I even remembered her name. So we danced.

We danced. And when we ran out of moves, we made up our own. We talked. We sang along with the songs (at least the words we knew). We danced. We saved a girl who had a lit cigarette caught on the cuff of her jeans. We showed each other our driver's licenses. And we danced.
We danced for almost 3 hours of that floor.

There was a point in the night when went to the ladies' room. So I stood there and talked to some fraternity brothers. She came back, and now I had to go. When I got back, she was talking to some of her friends. And I stood there. I just stood there... waiting, completely knowing she'd come around. And sure enough, she turns to me, smiles, and walks straight back to me. We sat down and chatted it up some more. When her legs brushed mine, my mind went nuts.
We exchanged numbers and when I got back to New York, she texts me:

Oh man, everytime I hear a song from last night on the radio, I think about dancing with you.

When I read that, I smiled and laughed to myself thinking, "Wow, there's actually some girl on the other side of the country thinking of me."
From then on, we talked to each other every week. There was a time she actually came out to Philadelphia for a convention for her career. We played hooky, and spent a day in my city.
I brought her flowers. We ate rice pudding. We rode the ferry together. We kissed in the city lights.

Confessions, by definition entail some kind of dilemma. So where's the dilemma here?
A boy from New York and a girl from California meeting in Chicago. What are the odds?
Distance is complicated, but it's not impossible.

She has a boyfriend. In fact, it was one of the things she told me that night, even though it was one of the last things.
I've been pretty secure on my identity as the good guy. And i know good guys aren't scumbags. In fact, on our way to the ferry that day in the city, I got a call from my best friend who just broke up with his girlfriend of almost three years because she was cheating on him. That call was like an alarm sounding off in my head, "What the hell are you doing?!" From that moment, I felt personally responsible for everything that happened to him.

See, this isn't a bitter-sweet love story. It's about a promise I made to my friend. A friend who I hurt.
I promised him that I wouldn't follow through with her. And for the most part, I haven't.
People see me as the good guy. She sees me as a great guy.
And good guys - great guys, don't home wreck.

As amazing as it was, having a girl think about you - even though she's on the other side of the country, I can't do it.
But a good guy whose life is New York can sit up late at night remembering a girl whose life is California and just think...
Good guys get the girl. Good guys get the girl.

Where The Action Is

2007-09-17T22:40:00.000-04:00

From as far as back as I can remember, I've spent my nights up and about waiting for action. Of course on some quiet lonely nights, I've taken myself out to where action can wait for me. Right now, I'm beginning a new life where I can be right where that action is. Tonight was my first night of class on my way to becoming certified New York State EMT (Emergency Medical Technician).
I've got a lot to learn and there is a ton of material to absorb, but I am excited.

Excited? Fuck that.
I am blitzed out of my mind stoked!

As I walked into class today, I felt a kind of nausea similar to those awkward high school days. I suddenly felt like the new kid in class all over again. I overheard some chatter about some people taking this course a another time. Immediately, I felt an "Uh-oh" jump up in my throat. Maybe this wasn't going to be as easy as I thought. There is actually a possiblity of me failing. I definitely need to stay on my toes.
As we waited for the lecture to begin, people were beginning to click together and chit-chat. Would I be making friends? I reminded myself that I am not here to make friends. I am here to learn, and I need to stay focused.

After a brief course overview and introductions, we learned about the history of EMTs and our impact on today's society, especially after 9/11. One of our instructors, who was as round as he was funny (which is to say very round and very funny), said something that stuck in my head. He said something like...

Everybody is somebody. We're there for the lowest of the low as well as the highest of the high. Whether we are carrying someone wearing four layers of clothing soaked in urine or helping Donald Trump down a flight of stairs, we help everybody. And everybody is somebody.

As I left the lecture hall, overwhelmed by the information given and the material to come, I knew I was on my way to do something good. I am on my way to doing something that people can't twist the truth around and call me a "bad guy". And it feels almost natural. Natural.
From as far as back as I can remember, I've spent my nights up and about waiting for action. Of course on some quiet lonely nights, I've taken myself out to where action can wait for me. These nights, that's where I am going: where the action is.

Push

2007-09-12T03:00:00.000-04:00

So here's the break down. After playing "tag" with a couple bad-guys on the streets tonight, I swung by my fraternity house to attend rush. And if I'm going to be guaranteed a little brother, I need to attend rush. Lately things have been coming up and I haven't been able to attend rush. With my flaking streak, I did all I could to make it out there. Tonight was a poker tournament. I don't play poker. Well, I don't play poker well. So I just floated around catching up with some brothers and talking to rushes when they got knocked out or during a break. Afterwards, I head over to my friends' house and hung out for a half-hour before I made my way back home. When I got back, I found my parents just sitting in the kitchen watching TV together.

I told them about a job opening as a hospital patient transporter out near campus. They'd be happy, right? They were. And then I told them about my plans to still take the EMT training course here near home. And that's when the shit hit the fan.

They couldn't see why I would want to that. If a place offers me a job, I should take it: with full-availability. Taking this EMT course could lessen my chances of landing that job by limiting my availability to work there. They don't see why I would want to become an EMT. They felt that I was just sabotaging my chances and not moving forward with my life.

But here's what I didn't tell them. I admit, I could take this EMT course anywhere. Fresh "out of college" near campus or at a city hospital. But I didn't. I decided to get certified near home. I wanted to do this because I wanted to be there for my mom and dad. My brother is three hours away at another college and I know how lonely my mom can get. I'm here near home. And I feel like it's my responsibility as their son to take care of them and not leave them alone. I'm not sabotaging my future. I admit, I feel I have to make motions to move forward in life. But I can't let myself do that and leave my parents alone in an empty house. I'm their son. I should be there. But I didn't tell them that. I just nodded my head and walked away. I figured it was best that they didn't know. After all, I wouldn't want them to think that they were holding me back.
They're not. They're pushing me forward.

After getting some fresh air, and the 9/11 Tribute of Lights lighting up the night sky, I began seeing my parents in a different light. Maybe it's not that they're stronger than I thought they were, but that I thought they weren't that strong to begin with.
Strength. True strength. A strength that does not come from an origin of an alien race or some radioactive spider bite.
But comes from the people around you who believe in you more than life itself. That's not love. That's ferocity.

22 + 1

2007-09-10T11:45:00.000-04:00

So on Friday, September 7th, your friendly neighborhood superhero just turned 23.

And I'm pretty sure that when people ask me how old I am, I'll have a brain fart and stutter out: "Twenty-two-err, I mean twenty-three. Twenty-Three."
It is as if that little Freudian slip was my mouth's own testimony of how fast tempus FREAKIN' fugits.

These past five days have been great. Probably one of the most memorable birthdays ever.

The other night, I spent it sitting down with a friend I haven't seen in what seemed like forever, hwen it was jsut a summer. We spent our time talking the night away with my best friend passed out behind us reeking of shots and sharpie ink. As she was telling me about her great summer, I listened happily, with a splash of jealousy. But don't get me wrong. Things were going great for her, and I was happy because I honestly felt she deserved it. It was just a little sad how my life has been juggling trick of knives with bloody knuckles to go with it.
But just sitting there, listening to her and being that shoulder she cried happy tears on was one of the best presents I ever had. And leading a life where I find myself missing out on so many good times, I was surprised to find so many people there for me on my birthday. On my own good time.

And at the end of the day, it was nice to have someone who doesn't just believe in some iconic superhero. But simply believes in the classic, the ordinary, me.

And it's nice to have a fan.

Shared in Silence

2007-08-30T12:50:00.000-04:00

Currently listening to: Alien Ant Farm - "Bug Bytes"

I'll sing you anything
I would swing from anything
I would give you everything
To not leave you hanging half remaining

Empathy - the ability to experience vicariously the same emotions that someone else is experiencing

About two weeks ago my friend, the girl that inspires me, lost her brother to a motorcycle accident. When I first heard the news of the accident, everyone asked if I talked to her yet. I shrugged it off. Apathy: my defense mechanism, because some time ago, it was made clear that I was never able to be the man she'd come to at the end of the day. So I kept her as far away from me as I could. Afterall, I figured he was just in the hospital. "Just" in the hospital. As if that alone was not enough for me to come out and be there for a friend. I answered to my friends, "Don't ask me how she's doing. I'm just not that guy." And then I found out: he was not "just in the hospital", he died. And then all of a sudden, I felt my body shake, as if there was something I could've done to stop this, to stop him from dying. That night, I lay on the hood of my car in the rain and I cried. To someone just walking by, who could tell the difference between rain drops and tears? But I cried. I cried for everything she was going through. The loss. the pain. The REALITY that someone you come home to is not going to be there anymore.

I never met the guy. But I know and loved her, and I cried.

Tonight, I'm reading her posts. There's this picture. It's during our graduation. She's got her diploma in one hand wearing her graduation gown and a smile with eyes to match. She's piggy-backing on her brother and she's happy. Their happy. And now, he's gone. And it kills me inside and out.

Throughout college, I lost someone every single year. Freshmen year, my uncle died. Sophomore year, my cousin disappeared and my aunt died. Junior year, my grandma died. Summer after senior year, my friend of liver cancer. This past year, my cousin died. Crazy, isn't it?
But losing a brother? That's something different.
I have a brother, and the reason why I took on this superhero thing is because of him. The nightmares of me losing him would kill me. I wanted to become stronger for him. To protect him. To protect all the brothers out there. But being the hero is not why I'm feeling all of this. It's not. Is it?

Under this mask, this suit, is a guy whose heart is beating for someone else. But because of my past, I'm too scared to do anything. I'm too scared to do the right thing. But I guess that makes the right thing so much bolder.

She won't read this. She probably will never know how much I feel with her. And I know I won't be the that hero. But I really don't care, just as long as someone does- odds are it will be herself.
She is a strong person, probably one of the strongest I've ever known and I believe she'll pull through with a fiercer love and passion than anyone ever could. Why? Because she's that kind of girl. The girl that's meant to be happy. With a smile like that, you know she's meant to be happy.

I've been missing in action so long; in not just her life but everybody's, and I don't feel like I should be there. I want to, but who am I really? I can't help feeling that "I'm just not that guy."

But maybe- just maybe, I am.

Just Another Chapter

2007-08-29T23:10:00.000-04:00

Today, I visited my college campus to take care of a few things. One of them was moving my graduation date... again. This has got to be the third time that I've moved up my graduation date. Because of the life I live and the other lives I juggle, I've made a lot of sacrifices. Unfortunately, one of these sacrifices was Academics. Because of all this day-to-day hero business, and attempts to build some kind of social life, I haven't been able to really focus on my studies. No. I chose to not focus on my studies. That was a mistake, and I'm paying for it by being stuck in college for one more semester for one more class for one degree. One more semester. One more class. Wow, and I thought I was done with all this college business. Guess not.

Before I left campus, I visited one of my favorite places to just sit and think, this closed fountain outside the Earth Space and Science building. When I first got into the university five years ago, the fountain was still in working order, but not anymore. Today I sat there, and thought about all the things that happened the since I was that 17 year-old freshmen. I thought about my past. My past memories. My past ambitions. My past love-life. But most of all I thought about the past me and realized how just much I have changed. When I was a freshmen, I was an as off-the-wall and animated as one of those Japanese anime characters. I was a hopeful impassioned kid. I've come a long way from that boy who would leap onto table-tops with a smile that brimmed from ear-to-ear.

Or have I? Ok, I'm not exactly jumping all over the place, but the same passion comes back into me. I've always been the type of person that wears their heart on their sleeves. The only thing that has changed is that my sleeves got longer and I hid somethings inside, but that passion, that fierce raw emotion is still there, clawing to get out. Is this really growing up? Sometimes in the quiet of night on some lone rooftop, I feel that I'm still the 4 year-old boy clinging onto his father's leg on his first day of pre-school. The future unknown... and scary.

And then I thought that there comes a time in our lives when we must put away the things of childhood, and step forward boldly as a man. Sometimes there are situations when we are forced to step up. But there is a point in our lives when we choose to. And I think that not until this summer, I've put myself into situations when I had to step up as man. Today, as I sat at the fountain steps and drifting between thoughts of what has come and gone and what is to come, I made a choice. I chose to finally become the man I dreamed I would become ever since I first tied a blanket around my neck and played the hero. I am at a point in my life where I choose to be the hero.

As I left my little "fountain of solitude", I began to take responsibility for all the things I have done. The good and not so good. The courageous and the foolish. My friend once said that people don't change, they only become who they were meant to be all along. Tonight, I'm looking the past me in the eye and showing myself: I'm a 22 year-old part-time student; searching for a job and soon moonlighting EMT classes; still struggling to pay off bills; still in love with the same girl since the day I met her. And if I myself am not okay with that, then who will be?

Don't Try This at Home

2007-08-27T01:51:00.000-04:00

Like magic? Well, I've got the greatest trick up my sleeves. But like every magic trick, there actually is no magic involved... just another slight of hand that will catch you in awe and wonder at what just happened. Let me show you my greatest trick.

Remember those juggling acts you would watch at a magic show or on TV. It starts with something simple, like juggling a ball. And then they add more balls. But then they kick it up a notch and start juggling something dangerous, like knives. And you know that if you play with knives, you get cut.
Me? I'm juggling.

I'm juggling lives. Besides the crime-fighting I do in my off-time (there never really is an "off-time" for us heroes), there is my real life. My family and good friends, who it would be painful too imagine my life without. But even here in real life, as "safe" as you think it is, you will find that there are these little edges that if you're not careful, you can get cut. This is where juggling gets dangerous. This is where I get cut.

Saturday, I was supposed to see this off-broadway play called "The Average Asian". My best friend was raving about it and I promised the guy I'd catch it with him. Unfortunately, as I'm waiting for the bus, some dumb young kid and his friends triess to mug this woman behind the park. After taking out that piece of trash, I miss the bus, which makes me miss the ferry. Knowing how plays work, I figured I was not going to make it into the theater. Ushers usually become fun nazis, in order to "maintain the illusion". Give me a break! I felt like crap missing out, and my friends probably think it's just me flaking out again. Disappointed in myself and New York's transit system, I made my way home to spend some time with my parents and brother, since I haven't really spent some good quality time with them in a while. Luckily, it was a quiet night in town, so me and my brother were able to order some pizza and kick back.

Today, the same friend was throwing this barbecue. On top of that, there was this dinner near Chinatown for for my fraternity. This was going to be the last barbecue of the summer before my friends head back to school. And this dinner brings out almost every brother in my chapter; the brothers who crossed when I was still in middle school and the brothers who crossed after me. My fraternity big brother was supposed to be there, and I haven't seen that guy the whole summer. I really wanted to make it out, to BOTH things tonight, but I knew I couldn't. I'd miss out on one or the other. Knowing my luck, I should've known I would miss both. After going to church with my family, I tried to make it out to the dinner, figuring I'd make it out just in time. We ended up going to my uncle's place in New Jersey because my mother was supposed to help out with some wedding plans for my cousin's wedding in October. He has a pool there, and I didn't even bring my shorts. After a little pizza (again), my brother and I just played a little basketball. He actually taught me a couple pointers for shooting, but I'm no 'baller' yet. Finally, I was on my way home... at 8:00PM. There was no way I was going to make it to the dinner in Chinatown now, so by the time I got home, I head out to Bayside, Queens to catch what was left of the barbecue. I called up my friend, and I could tell he was disappointed. By the time I got there, I figured it would be smooth sailing from there. Then some car-jacker almost clipped me as I was crossing the street. If you're going to steal a car, then fine, but at least try not to hit anybody in the process. After issuing a "ticket" in his face, I met up with my best friend. My best friend. Me? I'm far from "best".

A long day. A long weekend with a bundle of disappointed people.
You can think, "Well, at least it was all just plans for fun. They'll survive without you there."
But stack up all these little flaking moments, and what you get is the expectation that I'm not really around. The words "I'll be around" become another empty little clichè.
What kind of friend is never around for the good times, but shows up for the bad times; whose memory is never of the good times, but a nasty reminder of the bad times.

So, here I am alone in my apartment, not around.
Do I feel guilty? No. Guilt is what you feel when you do something bad.
I feel shame. What's the difference? Shame is what you feel when you are something bad.

Did you see that? Are you watching closely?
So, I'm magician. I'm juggler... maybe just a bad one.
I'm a disappearing act. I'm a flake.
I'm an empty little clichè, with cuts.

I thinks it's about time for me re-appear...

Greater Expectations

2007-08-21T00:40:00.000-04:00

What am I doing? What am i doing?! WHAT AM I DOING?!!?
Where the hell am I when shit hits the fan for the people I care about?!
At first, I shrugged these questions off- answering to myself that I'm taking care of me. I'm doing what is best for my future and my life.

But what if you feel... shame. Shame because even though you should take care of yourself... you feel it is better for you to take care of others. Shame because you feel that doing the "right thing" in the beginning, is not the right thing in the end.

Something happened. Something very bad happened to one of the people I care about most in this world. And tonight, I lay on the roof of a car, looking up at the pink tinted night skies with the rain falling down on my face... and I cried.
I know what to do, but i don't want to- and I feel like a monster because of that.
"What do you mean?" you ask me. "If you care about her as much as you say you do, then why don't you go out and do something?!" Because I shouldn't. It was made clear to me a long time ago, that the person to be there for her isn't me, and wasn't going to be me... or is it?

Despite what comes to you, despite what you get coming to you in the end, you are supposed to do the right thing. Doing something right is doing something good in and of itself. The Golden Rule says, "Do unto others, as you would have them do unto you." What is necessary is for you to DO something, what comes afterwards is conditional and is not relevant in an altruistic sense.
First and foremost, we are all called to action.
When news first came out, a lot of people were asking me if I had heard the news, as if there was an expectation for me to do something. Everyone expected something from me, but me.
And I guess it just goes to show what kind of people I have around me. To have high expectations of me, when I would expect less from myself. That faith that people have in you can make you face your fears and act. Act loud. Act strong. Act proud.

Taking care of myself was never my fortè. But sacrifice is.
I guess I am more of a hero than I thought myself to be. Here I go...

Unmasking

2007-08-17T01:40:00.000-04:00

"The power of the secret identity. It allows us to persist in the delusion that we are something really special, that there is no one like us. It also allows us to indulge in a fair amount of self-pity and a martyr complex. Ah, the suffering that we must endure because we can never really let anyone see through to our true selves, our real vulnerabilites - because if they did - then they would know how to hurt us... Sometimes a character doesn't even have to wear a mask to have a 'secret identity.' And although we don't wear (literal) masks in our daily lives, we all have secret identities."
-J.R. Fettinger of www.spideykicksbutt.com on "Secret Identity"

Who am I? Are you sure you want to know?
Well, to sum it all up, I guess you can call me one of the "good-guys". A super-hero.

I'm sure you are wondering what powers I have or where i fight crime.
What are my origins? How did I get my powers? And all these little details are fine and dandy to be printed up on some $3.99 book in a comic shop, that's not why I'm writing.

The question here is: without the mask, who am I?

At the end of the day, the super-hero has to sooner or later take-off his mask and be who he was meant to be, not what the world needs him to be.

Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, "A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is braver five minutes longer."

Underneath this mask, I'm just your everyday ordinary guy. Trying to keep a handle on my job. Struggling to pay rent. Chasing after the same girl since God knows when.
I'm the boy next door. I'm the guy you almost walked into on the streets. I'm the guy who felt it was too awkward to try to squeeze into an empty seat next to you on the train and decided to just stand instead. I'm the guy who is always around, but never there when you're looking for him.

So here I am. I'm not a super-hero. Just a guy trying to be a hero... six minutes longer.
This blog is me, with my mask... off.