Monday, May 10, 2010

iPod Time Machine

This little baby holds the key to the past. Walking home from work at 1am, I put it on shuffle, and brace myself for the unexpected. Most of the world [or at least the neighborhood] is asleep, and I'm slowly making my way to my own bed. A song will come on, and memories rush to the surface like floating bodies that refuse to drown.

A song I haven't heard in years will play, and I'll be amazed at how well I still remember the words. With each line comes a memory: Me sitting on the carpet in her living room. She's making tea. "Did she just say 'ecstasy?'" She asks me. "I doubt it. She's singing in Portuguese," I reply. I can smell the Yankee Candle she lit, and feel the pain in my gut cuz I've been holding this fart in since we got back from the movies. We'll lay on her bed for hours. Talking. Kissing. Enjoying each others company. Just being. Together. Those are the things I miss.

A new song starts, and a new memory plays in my head: Saturday nights. Bolero flowing from the speakers. Dim lights, the woozy feeling of 3 glasses of wine & the taste of a cigar on the walls of my mouth. Talking about subjects that nobody cares about, but subjects that would never be pronounced except for at that moment. Meeting interesting people that I know I'll never see again. Never wanting the night to end because I know that it would mean I'd have to return to my own reality. I need to have more nights like those.

Fast forward to the next song. I'm at the gym, on the treadmill. This song fuels me. I can't feel the burning in my legs, heart and throat. No. I CAN feel them, but the burning sensation propels me forward. In my mind, a silent film plays. Snippets of faces and places. I watch this and listen to the song as I go faster and harder. I'm a machine. I don't tire. I don't hurt. I just go. A bead of sweat rolls into my eye. It stings like a motherfucker. I go faster. Harder. The song reaches a crescendo. I go faster. Harder. I imagine a camera crew recording me. My peers are watching me. I go faster. Harder. I move in sync with the beat. I feel the calories melting away. I feel the air travel in my nostrils, thru my lungs and out my mouth. I feel invincible. Its 1am and I feel more alive then I did 12 hrs ago. I want to do push-ups. I want to call friends and go clubbing.

My iPod is the shit.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Otro Año

"I’m 25, and yet I don’t feel like an adult. I don’t think I ever will. I don’t think other adults feel like adults. Do I need to pay a mortgage? Will that make me feel like an adult? Do I have to father some kids? Is that the trick? I used to think having a lot of worries and having all the answers made you an adult. But I’ve worried all my life, and I now know that nobody has all the answers."

That was an excerpt from something I wrote on my MySpace profile a few years ago. Today I turn 28. I'm happy to tell you that I STILL don't feel like an adult.

Monday, March 15, 2010

Ghosts of Talents Past

At least three times this week I was reminded of what a quitter I am. I have to admit, that's one of my biggest flaws. I'm quick to quit. Don't get me wrong, quitting isn't my first instinct. Nonetheless, I'm a quitter. In recognizing that, I feel shame. Still, many times, it was because of quitting that better things became available to me.

A few days ago, a friend calls me and says she needs to hand in a poem for class. The subject: her. The due date: the next day. The time: 1:48 in the morning. I can't work with that kind of schedule! I can't write unless I'm completely in love with what I'm writing. All I'm thinking is how I haven't written a poem in years. How could I possibly be of help? She assures me anything would help. The only thing I have to give her is a link where several old poems are posted. She thanks me and goes to work. I'm left there to look over old poems and relive old emotions.

Another day, some time this week, a friend posts something on my Facebook wall. Its a friend I hadn't seen since 2002, when I dropped out of college, and recently got reacquainted with thru said site. Her post? The title to a story. I was taken aback. How did she know about this? She tells me she was organizing all her old papers and came across a print out with my name on it. I asked her if she was interested in reading more. The story had turned into 10 chapters since we last spoke. Upon emailing her, she replied with kind words which moved me to open Microsoft Word and reread a few pages.

Yesterday, a friend texts me, "I found the song u made and sent me a while ago. I'll email u the song later." Yes, I wanted to be a rapper back in high school. I laugh at the thought. Back then, it was all I wanted. I have my "demo" in my iTunes library, and I cringe with embarrassment as I listen to it. But don't get it twisted, I had skills.

I remember vividly as I chased each dream with the passion only ignited by the idea that you could do anything you wanted. Its what we're told as kids. "You can do anything you put your mind to." "You can become anybody you want to be." That may very well be true, but the cynic inside me thought it was a joke.

Watching a movie today, I think I realized what the adults of my past were trying to say. A child is like a clean slate. Our parents, teachers, after school programs, sports, books, movies, etc...ALL those things are there to show us the possibilities that are available to us. We can do any of those things. Its simply up to us to want to do it. My problem was I wanted to do everything.

Monday, January 25, 2010


Wow. How time flies. My last post was almost 5 yrs ago. I don't know what suddenly made me want to write tonight. I don't know why I stopped back then. I can't remember why I started in the first place. I've always expressed myself in some way thru the written word. Sitting here now, I wish I would have saved them all. It would be nice to have them. Now I know why ppl keep journals.

I'm so curious; so nosy; so eager to learn the story of someone else. I've read many blogs over the yrs. I've met a lot of interesting ppl and heard all their stories. One thing I can say is, we've all got stories to tell. Even the most mundane can be entertaining. I wish we'd ALL blog, or just chronicles our lives in some way. I'm slightly jealous of those that never gave up on their writing. Its evident I gave up on mine. Not entirely. More like I gave up on recording it. But there's almost something pretentious in thinking ppl actually care to want to read your story. Fuck it! Let's be pretentious. I'm clearly talking outta my ass. I don't know when my next post will be. I'm notorious for only doing things when I REALLY wanna do it. Who knows how I'll feel tomorrow. I might ignore this blog for another 5 yrs. Better take advantage while I'm in the writing mood.

A lot has happened to me in the last 5 yrs. Of course. It'd be a shame if I were the same person living the same life as 5 yrs ago. I am 27. I'll be 28 in exactly 2 months. I still look towards the future with excitement. I'm not afraid of maturing. I AM afraid of getting old, but that will have to be another entry.

I just realized that I ALWAYS looked towards the future with excitement. Almost as if my present wasn't as satisfactory as I'd like, and that in the tomorrow of my mind, everything would work itself out. Is that stupid of me? Is that being hopeful? Optimistic? I'm not sure.

My present is pretty satisfactory. Sure, there are lots of things I could do without, but WHOSE life is perfect?

Less than a yr ago, I got my own place. I'm a homeowner. I'm quite proud of myself. From my blog entries from 5 yrs ago, you'd see that I was a hard worker. It paid off. I'm now working 2 jobs to make ends meet. My days are hectic and filled with stress. I have dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep that I don't think will ever go away. I'm not complaining. Ok, maybe slightly, but I have to let it out somehow.

I'm still single. In the last 5 yrs, there were a couple of ladies that came in and out of my life. None special enough to make a huge impact. If anything, they've reinforced what I've known all along: you can't really rely on some one else for your happiness. Yeah, that's gonna be another post too, cuz I don't really want to get into that now.

I've become a lot more honest. Not just with myself, cuz I feel I've always been true to myself. I'm being more honest with others. I've never been a liar, or at least too much of a liar, but I'm really speaking my mind. In the past, I'd feel a certain way or think something and never open my mouth. I'd just take everything in and keep moving. I've come to speak my mind and how I feel a little more liberally these days. I think my ability to speak my mind goes hand in hand with my newfound ability to not care what ppl think. I don't know when it happen or how I picked it up, but I'm oblivious to other ppls' thoughts about me. Yes, I still like to make a great impression and I like to please, but when I know I did everything in my power to show you what an awesome guy I am, if you cant accept it, I no longer care. I have to say, not caring is quite liberating. It has allowed me to live my life as happily as I currently am. Its also made me numb to a lot of things, and again, that's another post. Whew! I hope I get to write about all these topics I'm putting on the backburner. I hope I feel the desire to speak on them.

I guess this is it. I feel the motivation to write leaving me the more I type. I guess I'll leave it at that. See you soon. Hopefully.