if i just let it go

will i feel better? sometimes i wish people would quit being so selfish and cherish what they already have. instead of being greedy and deprive others of even that slight chance at experiencing something more. maybe i'm just jealous.

into the night, the cool kids party on just outside these walls. the quiet one will always be the quiet one. people don't change. we just change the way we appear to other people.

+listening to: welcome to the cruel world by ben harper

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quiet

when the night is no longer young, when things get quiet. what are we really thinking.

as hypocritical as it seems, i hate to see people around me cry. it's a stab straight to the heart, and the flashbacks of those helpless times just come pouring in. inundating the senses. it's not a position to be overlooked, because we are most vulnerable when we're feeling helpless, or hopeless. little gestures to show we care may eventually go a long way. i guess in some way everyone just need to know that someone actually gives a damn.

even so, seeing the sorrow deep within seemingly happy people irks me. it is the un-expectation that throws you off. for once i'm a spectator instead of the protagonist, but the pain is real all the same.

"it all looks fine to the naked eye, but it don't really happen that way at all..."

+listening to: naked eye by the who

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another sleepless night

this post has no sense of purpose, nor direction. i write this as i do with many things, as it has become almost second nature.

wat did i do this sunday. oh right, i was in bed, ignoring phone calls after phone calls from my dad. i think i must have forgotten about the hastily prearranged time for this weekly ritual. it must have been one of those one-sentence quick fire email exchanges. i felt a sense of rebellion with not picking up the call, i refused to pay any attention to the constant buzzing on my desk. somehow or other, by a pure stroke of luck, the device was on silent mode, for i don't know what i would have done to it. i refuse the answer the call, because sunday mornings are for sleeping in.

the better part of the morning was spent with matthew. matthew b. crawford, whose book i've been faithfully reading for the past week or so. progress is painfully slow because i could only seem to manage a few pages at a time in one sitting. i wish i could have just blocked out a whole chunk of my time and devote it to reading. it has sort of become a favorite of late because matthew always seem to present his arguments in the most compelling of fashions. there's no romanticism or horseshit, but rather earnest opinions which the reader may or may not agree upon. but that is perfectly ok because matthew is an awesome guy and he wouldn't give a shit about what you thought or said.

laziness has also finally gotten the better of me on this fateful sunday. the pristine unopened bottle of john (some of you may know him as jack, but he's john to me) daniels in my room that i've been saving has been officially defiled, molested, opened, whatever you wanna call it. it was just too much of a hassle to walk into the kitchen to pour myself a sip from the big bottle. yes i am that lazy and no i'm not an alcoholic.

with neither good news or bad news to comtemplate over, the looming exams seem to be the only dark cloud on the foreseeable horizon. a source of discomfort to say the least, which is why i'm still slugging practice problems at this hour. which is also why i'm writing this post because the most interesting thing i have to report is perhaps that i've just spilled some whiskey on my pants and now i positively smell like a homeless drunk. i cursed at myself as i tried to clean up the spill with a dab of water. then i cursed again because now the wet patch is twice the size of the original. how intelligent. this sudden commotion caught me by surprise, commotion over solitude is probably the equation of my life at this very moment.

so i thought, what would matthew have done? he probably would have smiled and poured himself another drink. i'm too lazy to do that. so i tuck matthew into bed like i do every night, except tonight i won't be joining him, in bed. as you could probably sense, i flaunt my homo side with his help. i even gave him a little wink as i turned around and  carried on what i was doing before...

+listening to: nothing

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if i ride

if i ride, i'll know the way the trees smell after the rain.
i will grow a heart so strong that hospitals will take tuesdays off.
if i ride uphill i will eventually get to ride downhill,
that's how it works.
if i ride my breath would fill the air,
instead of smoking car exhaust.
if i ride, road rage would turn into laughter.
and i won't be a boy, or a girl, i will just be a rider.
if i ride, i can wear spandex, like spiderman.
and the planet would cool down and survive,
and thank me for riding with flowers and glaciers
and fireflies and snow days off from school.
if i ride, i will be strong.
i will change tires myself.
if i ride, i will only use oil on my chain,
and oil tankers would haul chocolate milk.
this is my poem to biking.


+listening to: nothing

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barack

when you want the car to go forward you put it in "D", when you wanna go backwards you put it in "R" - Barack Obama.

smoothly done. one of the great orators of our time.

+listening to: rally with president obama at uw madison

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awesome weekend

this weekend has been one of those really genuinely happy ones, because i felt at home, in my own skin. and being able to catch up with the important people in my life has reinvigorated me in some unimaginable ways.

it's glad knowing that people whom i can call family are not too far away, all the more why chicago is still one of my favorite cities of anywhere.

but as it always is, whatever goes up must come down. it's time to get down to business again and come back to the endless mill that school is. james taylor would tell you, "millwork ain't easy, millwork ain't hard, millwork ain't nothing but an awfully boring job. i'm waiting on a daydream, to take me through the morning, and put me in my coffee break, where i can have a sandwich..."

i should really get back to work before the morning sobers...

+listening to: before morning sobers by dean fields

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the things we do

for the second night in a row, perhaps two of my most favorite people in the world will take the stage together at wrigley field, such a proud venue with such rich history, singing some of my most beloved songs while i'm still here, mere 3 hours away, doing my thing. the thing i'd rather not do on this particular weekend, at this very hour.

but we all have to do the things we do sometimes. especially when we wish we could stay a little longer but can't, or when when we hope we could be somewhere else but were unable to.

so i sit here at the edge of my seat, staring into the tea cup at the anamorphic reflection of my face, imagining what it must have been like, listening to the songs i would have danced my heart out to. and just when i was getting up, the sudden realization that i'm still holding that cup of tea hits me as drops of scalding hot liquid make contact with my thigh.

what am i doing? i can't even dance.

so i sit back down, resigned to my own fate. i continue listening, and i will always continue listening till the day the music dies. but somehow this past week it felt as if that event is imminent, maybe it's because of the departure of mike portnoy from the band he founded, the band that i have come to be obsessed with for the past 10 years.

or maybe it's because i'm still here for the second day in a row, on a perfect afternoon, wishing i was somewhere else.

+listening to: you can bring me flowers by ray lamontagne

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the summer man

watching mad men makes me feel so peaceful inside. the chaos in "their" world becomes strangely comforting. maybe it's a reflection of what life might hold.

the characters and the style, it's almost too perfect. everything looks impeccable. there's something about the sensibilities of the 50's and 60's that has been sorely missing in contemporary american culture. some people might classify it as being "old fashioned", i'd rather think of it as a masterclass in style with substance. something you don't see very often nowadays.

i can't wait for every monday. it makes the whole week that much more bearable.

+listening to: nothing

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