Can't Stop Listening

I can't stop listening to this song...

Thursday Night Out, part 2

We zipped and zoomed through the city. If there was anything I was impressed with, it was that J knows the city quite well. She's been here for what? 20 years. She came here when she was young.

I would sometimes make the mistake that she'll get some Filipino joke or term I used, but forget that she was already here when it became fashionable in the Philippines. She once asked me what 'Jokwa' means. Because a cousin who just came from the Philippines used the term. I told her, I have no idea, but it sounded 'squatter'. She asked what that meant, I said 'nevermind.'

What's funny is that she has 3 accents. She has an American accent when she speaks English, a Tagalog accent which is kind of a mix of accents really, and what I could only surmise an Ilokana accent. I think the Ilokana accent is the best one. It reminds me back home, to be honest.

We arrived at the area where we'd meet with her cousin, and a few minutes later, found a parking spot. We stood at the street while she arranged how to meet with her cousin. He finally said he's close by. Then he appeared out of the masses of pedestrians. He was slender, maybe 5'6" and 'singkit' (chinese-looking eyes). He was half chinese, but could very well pass as a pure Filipino. He's good looking for an asian dude. And has that party vibe with him.

After a few introductions, he lead us to a nearby bar. It was very dark--you almost can't see anything--and I guess that's the idea. It's to hide whatever might potentially happen at the place. As I entered the bar, I found naked pictures of men. I anticipated to find out where the pictures of naked women were. I wonder if they're at the back of the bar. When we got there, there were still more pictures of naked men. I then realized we were in a gay bar.

We started with a few drinks, and I was happy to oblige. First was a light beer, then a martini. After this point, the events are pretty choppy. I don't remember a lot. We talked about a lot of stuff. Whatever they were, all I remember was I was having fun.

After that, we switched and hopped to a more upscale gay bar (damn... it looks like this was a street full of gay bars). I was expecting the patrons that go to these establishments to look really gay, but no they looked like normal men. If I saw them somewhere else, I wouldn't even think they were gay. Ironically, I feel more comfortable in this setting. Not only were we all guys but also because there aren't a lot of hot women who can tear a poor chump apart.

In this new place, we got ourselves comfortable then played darts on the 2nd floor of the bar. A few minutes later, we went to the 3rd floor, which is the dance area. I don't know why, but even though I was so drunk I still ordered a hard drink. I think partially because I didn't know my own limits.

I don't drink that much, and have no preconception as to how much I can drink and what it can really do to myself.

Unfortunately, I'm going to learn that lesson tonight.

A few more minutes, I scoured the dance floor, and found a nice cute latina (J would later say she was asian, but at that time I honestly thought she was latina). We made eye contact. She danced somewhat far away. And so I started dancing and made my way.

It was definitely heavily drunk, because before I know it, I was behind her, following her gyrations to the music's rhythm. Under normal circumstances, I would be patting my back right now for an approach well done. But I'm too drunk--too unaware, too proud, too uninhibited. I talked to her, the subject matter of which escapes me. But I knew her name was 'Rey'. I remembered that because it was an odd name. We talked for a few minutes, and the conversation went flat. I then lost her interest.

It was ok. It was my first approach ever anyway, and I'm proud I've got it behind me. Now, time to pee. Gawd, I'm ready to burst. I tried finding the nearest bathroom. I emphasize the 'try'.

This is where things turned ugly... I blacked out.

The next thing I remember, a burly bouncer was escorting me downstairs... and I was fading in and out of consciousness...

(to be continued...)

Poem

I die, I die
I resist death, grasping...
holding on to something... anything
I lose myself... And for a moment
I don't remember who I am
I am but a swirl...
of concepts, feelings and intuition
...Then as if by the most gracious of miracles
I
am
found...
Paradoxically, but perfectly, I am found
Not by anyone, neither by no one
There is nothing that is recognizably me
...and yet I am here

My Car Decided to Crap Out

So, my trusty '97 Camry has finally showed signs of her age, and will finally give out. The check engine light indicator came up and when I got it to a dealer, they said that her transmission has a problem and that the repair cost is about twice the amount I paid for the entire car herself. Talk about cheap labor.

Anyway, that's that for her. I'm looking for a new one to replace her, and I also feel it's about time. She has been with me for 4 years, through thick and thin. I remember the time when she 'disappeared' when a nasty 12-inch snowstorm covered her completely, and I thought someone stole her away. She was there when I traveled from plains of the Midwest to the tropics of Florida, via the rockies of Atlanta.

She was there during the dead winter of the journey north from San Diego to Redmond. She has been my silent and loyal partner. The only time I wasn't with her was my trip west from Florida to San Diego, but she was eager to see me. Meeting her again in San Diego, as she was being brought down from a trailer was literally one of the happiest days of my life. I felt I've been granted freedom that day. Freedom to move.

This post is my dedication to my 97 Camry.

Thursday Night Out, part 1

Last thursday seemed like any normal night. I came home a little bit tired, and because of my insomnia the past weeks, a little bit sleepy. On my trip home, I fantasized on sleeping early. Once I got home, however, I felt like doing something else instead.

I noticed my roommate, J, was asleep.

I turned on the tv, and headed to my computer in my room. I like the sound of tv from my room. It makes me feel there's something going on and that the apartment's not entirely quiet. There are times when I like things to be quiet... kinda like meditation time. Tonight wasn't one of those times. I was cranking up the noise. Even with the tv, I turned on my computer's music player.

I surfed the Internet for a few minutes when my connection abruptly went flat. I unsuccessfully tried to fix it but half-an-hour later, I exasperatedly called tech support to see if it's something wrong on their side. A few more minutes of back and forth didn't reveal any anomalies on their system. Huh, must be my router then. Damn that piece of crap.

That's that for my night. I might as well sleep it off until tomorrow. My night is pretty much thru. Unless... unless I decide to watch tv, which honestly I don't feel like doing at the moment. The only thing on tonight is some lousy reality show where my favorite players have already been eliminated. Damn these reality shows... The good guys never win.

So perhaps the best option right now is what I had planned all along--to catch some Zs. And besides, I need the extra sleep anyway. My insomnia has robbed me of energy during the daytime.

While contemplating my next move, J finally awoken. I could hear her scurrying back and forth between the kitchen and her room. Then her head emerged in my slightly opened door. "Do you want to come hang out tonight?" She invited.

Her voice has a certain bubbliness to it. It's a voice that when you hear it, you know she's a nice person. You can't go wrong opening yourself up to her. She disarms you. And it's hard to turn her invitation down.

Up to this time, I still can't figure out my roommate. We've been together for several months, but I still don't know her. I figure that's probably just how she likes it--keeping things at a distance. So our interactions rarely go beyond the normal greetings and niceties.

There will be times when we talk on a variety of topic and we get somewhere, but when I insert some deep, thought-provoking question, the conversation dies down. Not that I'm trying to fish for anything from her, mind you. That's just the way I am... I want to learn about a person deeply. I want to know their values and experiences. But in my roommate's case, perhaps she does not really want to go there. So I just leave it at that.

And so I was mildly surprised she's inviting me. "Where to?", I asked.

"Capitol Hill. I'll be meeting with my cousin. Want to hang out in a bar?"

It took me a good 5 seconds to reply. I usually turn down J's invitations. But tonight I had nothing better to do. And besides, it might actually be fun to go out. And if I go, who knows, I might actually get to know something more about this person that I've been living with for months.

(to be continued...)

When Life Happens...

Just got off a phone conversation with my mom. She was at Galleria buying a plane ticket on her way to our province in Cotabato, which is somewhere in the southern Philippines. She said that her mom is in critical condition and that her life is now being counted in days, if not hours. All of this came as a shock to me, putting me temporarily speechless. As I listened to my mom--dumbfounded nonetheless--I can sense urgency from her voice. She said she was flying out the next day.

During the chat, and immediately afterwards I felt curiously empty. I honestly didn't feel anything about it--not even hints of remorse... I was strangely disattached. Not risking sounding insensitive during the call, I put up some cliches--those that one is supposed to say in times like this.

The truth is, my grandmother and I didn't really get to know each other. She was a quiet individual, and the more boisterous personalities of my aunts and uncles tend to fill up my life more. And our lives simply diverge--she spent most of her time in the fields in our province, while I lived mostly in Manila, and then of course, the United States. If I can count correctly, we met each other less than 5 times in our lives.

But with dis-attachment, there started to creep a feeling of guilt. Why am I not even feeling the slightest bit of remorse? Am I a bad kid for not feeling it? What kind of grandson am I who does not even care for his grandmother on her deathbed. Should I force myself to feel remorse?

In the end, the best I could do is offer my sincere help to my mom and aunts and uncles. And to appreciate the woman that is my grandmother. I don't regret that I didn't know more about her.

And even if we're thousands of miles apart, I can offer to her is my sincere smile and warm waves of farewell...

Office Space alternate preview

Found this interesting and creative alternate preview of Office Space. I couldn't stop cracking after seeing it.

http://www.collegehumor.com/video:1732670/