Sippin' on Hot Water

Winter Break's officially started!

So I intend to pledge to:

de-clutter my living spaces

watch and overanalyze Woody Allen flicks

read and digest research articles for my lit review for qualitative research

So keep them holiday tunes on, stay warm with a hot beverage (hot water for me, as i've had two cups of coffee, one decaf with lots of non dairy and honey, another a strong vietnamese coffee (french roast with condensed milk).

Will post more, must return to break activities. Stay tuned....

memories of better times

At times, a memory from a past experience wanders into my deep subconscious as I dream. For instance, one time as I awoke in the morning, I hear a crushing sound on the rocks in my mom's backyard garden. The times I spent looking for her to pick a call or called her on the road only to realize she was in her garden.

crush. crush. The splash of a bucket into another bucket. The pouring of water.

The smell of wet soil and sink water submerged in kitchen refuse and other strange materials like soy grounds from making soy milk or water after peeling shrimp.

Her garden abounds in produce, from spiny English cucumbers, yellow green zucchinis, and crunchy green beans.

No wonder I get nauseated when I encounter frozen or processed foods. As Marvin and Tammy sang in 1968, 'ain't nothin' like the real thing...' You can't beat home grown and hand picked veggies. Especially that sound of them stir fried with olive oil and minced garlic in mom's wok.

I suppose I am fortunate to have a green thumb mom, who balances work during the day and tending her garden at night.

At times, I wonder if I have the patience and persistence to 'cultivate' my own garden. Orange and persimmon trees in the back and a lemon tree in the front. To be surrounded by fruits and veggies yet living in a suburban landscape devoid of fauna and flora, except maybe the occassional shade tree or runover rodent. Take your pick, raccoon, skunk, squirrel.

They scurry just to get by on the fence or to cross the road, only to realize that the evening commute is on as they face the onslaught of mid size luxury cars and oversized SUVs.

I wonder who weeps and mourns for these lost ones. Rather than stare and feel remorse, who takes the initiative and removes the carcasses and ensures that they have a resting place for their tattered and ruined bodies? It brings great sadness in my heart when I see a runover stray cat or a indigent crossing a railroad track. Perhaps at one time they were a part of a family once. But now things have changed.

Life is difficult and hard. But I know there is time for everything under the sun as the Good Book says. Time to live, a time to die. A time for everything.

So let it be written...

Strumming on my Guitar while it Smiles

I find that there is some thing ethereal about music. Sometimes, I see the singer telling it as it is, like a story. It takes me on a place, a journey to somewhere foreign but also familiar.

I'm trying to learn how to play some songs I intend to play at camp but I'm stuck on a chord. It doesn't sound just right.

Ok, I'll be honest. I'm trying to play Baby by Justin Bieber. But its cuz I just remember the first time i heard it. From the mouths of first graders who are in adoration of the teen idol. they'd keep seeing 'baby baby baby noo'

Then the teacher would say "No more justin bieber!"

But then at the talent show, some middle schoolers, both girls, one stood and sang while the other strummed a ukelele. And I heard the song unfold.

And it brought me to a place where I was a young boy, enamored with this one girl. And that crush, that broken heart feeling that it could never be real only alive and ok in my mind.

I remember her magenta pink head band and her crooked teeth. How her grandma would pick her up from school walking her to the car as her hand clutched that pink Hello Kitty metal lunch pail that no one has anymore.

I recall messing up a print out on a computer and she said 'it's ok' with such a gentleness that was more out of courtesy but for me it was so intimate. I was a first grader then, but my feelings persisted.

One time, i went to the old library, when it was still open. And I hid behind a concrete column and saw her reading a book. I was in fourth grade mind you but she still looked the same.

Well, I guess Baby lyrics bring me to that sad song feeling when I'm poised in front of a mic, singing depressing pop songs like ' I'm With You' by Avril Lavrigne, "I Want It That Way' by the Backstreet Boys and ' On Bended Knee' by Boyz II Men on karaoke. The crowd cheers but in my heart, there's a place that reminds me that memory.

sigh.

I'll go strum up the guitar and lay down some riffs.

see ya in front of the mic.

steam

As the water comes to a boil, I place the platter of prepared fish,

a clean, descaled fish sits in an arrangement of scallions, ginger, pickled turnip and sliced jujubes

Soon, this will become a meat dish to the stir fry, the white rice, and the mustard greens just picked from the garden and quickly blanched.

This force that propelled industrialization, the growth of the railroad and the cost of many lives (primarily Chinese and Irish workers) from east to west. The concept of heating water and coals and engines created the basis of the locomotive engine.

A loud outburst that has no rational purpose.

'It just came out that way. I was upset.'

Or 'just let her be. She just blowing off some steam.'

I hear the steam cooker whistling away as it maximizes hrs of cooking into one hour.

It's fast, saves energy but is it the same?

I hate it when I forget to let the leftovers from dinner cool and the steam condenses on the saran wrap. The droplets of water are very unappealing....

cookies

baking cookies is messy but they all pack such flavor and sustenance.

perhaps in a short while, I will complement these sweet morsels with a cup of hot decaf tea.

I know, i know. its just that lately caffeine has become a habit. And when I try to wean off it, it gets tough.

Maybe I'll switch to decaf. I like the flavor but don't need all the caffeine.

I'm listening to interesting music right now. really mellow and farscaping.

I am so eager to just sit and mull over the dull moments of life.

But such time is wasteful and when the cookie's eaten, the moment's gone. Time to get back to work. Get that 2:30 feeling outta my mind so I can focus.

Corn: Neither Salt nor Sweet

Seems like each time I nibble and chomp on a cob stuff gets stuck between my teeth.

ok disclaimer, sorry if this grosses people out.

You know I hear there are different schools of eating corn kernels off the cob. Some slice em off, some pick em up, other use the lower mandible and nibble off rows while others just 'taz' (like Taz from the WB) through 'em but just munching off what they can and what's left is the fuzzy stuff.

You know eating corn with butter or drizzled on a Cajun sauce after a round of crawdads, I like how fresh corn is so versatile. My mom used to make this superb egg drop soup using salted egg whites, Knorr chicken boullion and Green Giant canned sweet corn.

Never fancied creamed corn though.

Remembering Michael Jackson

I was moved last weekend when I saw two quarter aged Chinese American adults jamming to Michael Jackson's music strictly using their two acoustic guitars and personal voices. It seemed like they were in this vibe, just belting out numbers from the times when MJ was in Jackson 5 like "Ben" to his more popular solo numbers like "Smooth Criminal," "Human Nature," "Rock With You," and my requested number "Don't Stop Till You Get Enough." I still laugh cuz it reminds me of that scene where Chris Tucker steals the scene at the karaoke club. Well, digression aside, here's the down low of how I was introduced to MJ's music.

It's the early nineties. I'm a first grader at my quaint suburban elementary school. There was this White kid name Mike who loved to sing PopEye the Sailor Man and had an older sister in an upper grade. He showed me this book about "Thriller" and he'd talk about that music video where MJ, wearing his signature red jumpsuit, had these eyes that turned like opaque. I was like wha?

Then one time when I was in sixth grade, there was this fifth grader who was dressed up in this black and silver marionette uniform. People thought she was MJ but she'd be pissed, stating "I'm JANET Jackson, MJ's sister! Gosh!."

Moving forward, it's sophomore year in high school. It's the class competition and every class from frosh to senior has to do this dance number. We shuffle into the large auditorium back when the bleachers were wooden and varnished. Now they're plastic and safer. I suppose there were tiny cracks where people's stuff could slip through or people could fall down. Anyways...

The lights dim, and the voices start to 'simmah down,' as Conan O Brien used to say when he had his show, and then the snare starts the vibe and the electronic organ throbs like a heartbeat. The tempo sets the scene and some strings come outta nowhere, indicating some mystery and pretense. Then MJ's voice starts to tell his story about this girl, "Billy Jean" .

Then the vibe changes into a cautionary tale, and the sophomores, my class, start to synchronize, twirling their plastic bowlers and meeting each step with the tempo in the background as MJ keeps telling it as it is, this tale of broken hearts, undetermined patrimony and denial. The song lyric that draws my attention is when MJ's say "remember to always think twice." Then his own voice revertebrates and says otherwise "DON'T think twice." Then there's the cool guitar instrumental that's all bass. Not as cool as "Beat It," but still swell, pretty swell and cool.

So rewind, its fourth year in high school. I'm a senior now and those I Love the 80s episodes on vH1 are pretty popular. I start to think I was alive during the Eighties but I wasn't. I watch 80s flicks starring the Brat Pack, wanting to Feris Bueler and trying to tell the Principal that I think he 'stole his wardrobe from Barry Manilow." So I'm watching all the Michael Jackson music videos, and I must say my favorite by far is "Beat It." That Van Halen guitar solo. Hands down awesome.

Then cue to the near present, I hear about the sad news, the sudden and tragic death of MJ and the world is in mourning both far and wide. Ultimately, it reminds me of how MJ still survives in my memory, as an entertainer, an artist, and most of all as a musician able to manipulate sound and translate it through his dance. A pop star that shines despite the dark emptiness of space.

One time I walked through a busy intersection donning my slim black fedora and this gentleman muttered " Like that hat, you look like MJ." I suppose there are copy cats, wanna bes and imitations of MJ like those generic marital arts films that proliferated after the master Bruce Lee

As I sit here and listen to this computer interpret the grooves on a compact disk using a laser beam, it all starts to collide, these moments listening and processing MJ's legacy, his music and how he made an impact on American and world pop music across the seven seas. Everyone know's MJ's songs. In fact, I still remember hearing "We Are the World' playing all across the school on them horrible 70sish loudspeakers with that crackle and static.

When the essemble starts to fade out, MJ's siren-like voice chimes in 'we are the world, we are children, we are the ones to make a brighter day, so let's start giving...it's true we make a brighter day just you and me....' What a powerful message for world unity.

You know, I remember that time when Leslie Chung left our world and my Cantonese teacher C.M. played one of his songs to memorialize him. A bunch of ABCs like myself probably didn't know what he was saying but I just remember the whole class being entranced by that voice.

I suppose the next time I hear some off key person trying to cover an MJ song on karaoke, or a group of people are doing the electric slide to 'Beat It' it's like MJ the man may be gone, but his music remains in our hearts, in our voices and our thoughts as we ponder and interpret his music. Which reminds me of writing and how it records our experiences and thoughts but it can only be seen and read. Whereas music can be sung, it can be recorded and it can be performed. Brings it all to whole another level.

So I guess I'll listen to some more of MJ's music spanning his musical career from the Jackson 5 to his solo artist days of Thriller.

There's a quote from a Japanese film I saw way back where a musician mutters something along the line of how artists can write their own endings. Pretty subversive and yet interesting in a critical perspective.

Just thought I'd blog about MJ since I'm listening to his music. That's all for now.

Podcast, NPR and Blogging.

Dear Audience,

I've been doing my time unemployed, cramming for the RICA, the Reading Instructional Competency Instruction Assessment, test, and all the while trying to stay current.

Listening to NPR has made me think about contemporary issues and podcasts are great cuz you get to choose things you want to listen to and download em. The thing I don't like is when the stuff eats up memory space.

Blogging has kept me busy typing up my life and trying to see examples of good writing and expression. Some say that writing takes away from a memory or experience. But, i feel that for myself, I tend to forget things like what to get for groceries, what I was supposed to do today and who I am supposed to meet. I gotta write it down. Writing helps me think and process my emotions and experiences. I suppose being forgetful and absent-minded, I writing stuff down.

Ok, I guess I'm all blogged out. Tune in when inspiration and randomness hits me.

Not Going to watch Movies. til 8/8/10

From henceforth, I have declared a moratorium on myself on watching dvds from the library, my chief unproductive distraction among looking stuff up on wikipedia and organizing my iTunes playlist.

Today was a long hot summer day. As i readied myself for my biking adventure (when I bike, I always consider it a journey, plus workout and saving the environment from not burning fossil fuels yay!) I realized that things did not go according to plan. But as Frost said I did take the road not taken, 'and it has made all the difference.'

I consumed a bowl of bowl noodles that my mom bought at Costco for cheap and even slurped the MSG enriched soup. Sometimes I think chicken flavor noodles tend to taste a bit like chicken curry. Must be the turmeric or paprika they put in the soup mix. The noodles were a bit soggy and well cooked. I like my noodles al dente if you know what i mean.

I straddled my bike and with a lunge I'm flying off the cul-de-sac and the wind is plowing right through me. Kenny Loggin's "Danger Zone" is playing within my head as I pass the guy taking a siesta who sells mangos, pineapples, strawberries and oranges on the corner of the two main avenues that converge. I make a right on the adjoining street, staying in my bike lane and avoiding traffic on my left. I'm inches away from automobiles, one quick lurch can send me flying off my seat and onto the asphalt to make human pizza.

I make a right and end up at the district office where I navigate to human resources to drop off my application. The office is an old building yet within is a whitewashed modern building that is akin to the labyrinth.

I kick off the bike rest bar and pedal my way back onto my street. As I head down the street a couple blocks before the next street, a loud conversation between squabbling adults can be heard loudly from the minivan's down window. i hear the Vietnamese guy trying to start up his car. He pops the hood and scratches his head, trying to figure out why the car's not working.

I grab my memo from my pack as I'm driving and zip back the pouch of my messenger bag all the while keeping my vision center to avoid a traffic collision. Once again, I am not fond of human pizza. Chicago style pizza from a place in Oakland called Zachary's yes! my body thrown to the four winds on a congested San Jose street. No thanks... Onto my story.

So I cruise on by and realize I've come into a dead end. The street is a cul-de-ac with a children's park with a rainbow motif. I head on forward and end up on a bridge over 680 S. The chain link guards are raised up high and curves, like a ballet dancer in fifth position. I weave past two steel columns that act as speed barriers.

I make a left and I'm on my way. A gut feeling tells me to make a right and continue on my route but my excited nature leads me off course. I ask a youth with some iPod earphones stuck to his ears where the street i was supposed to turn on was. He doesn't know.... I go the long way and end up lost. I find my way back onto story and figure it's a long way till I reach SJSU.

As I'm on the intersection of Story and McLaughlin, after passing by a recycling center, an African American male comments on how significant it is to have a helmet for safety reasons. We chat cordially about the dense traffic congestion in east/south San Jose, in this area of Seven Trees and the feeling is mutual. Both, two dudes, waiting for the walk signal so we can go our own ways. How personal is a conversation between a one on one in person encounter. When I'm talking on my cell and a voice is talking, I feel that I'm listening to their voice and not really having a conversation with someone. I dunno, I just feel so disconnected gabbing on Skype or texting on my cell. The communcation is limited, the conversation is half its real worth.

he zips away, probably off to work and I ponder on how hospitable people you just happen to meet are on the road, especially strangers you would never meet if you stayed home watching tv. I like the adventure, the spontaneity of seeing new faces and exchanging conversations on insights you never knew you would have.

I done paying the balance of my student fee increase, and I stare at the walk signal. I slap my thighs as if that will get its attention. Then i realize there's a button. i slap the button, it pops back out with a pop sound. I make it to the cafe. it's right across the city hall.

I order up a bag of coffee beans and immediately the barista and I carry on a conversation about coffee culture ruminating about how coffee is brewed, the flavors of the beans (the bag of beans has this nutty smell to them, as he described, like Nutter Butters.) and then he offered me a cup of decaf. He steamed the milk and prepared the espresso machine. After a good tight compression of the fine espresso grind, he frothed up the whole milk and poured it into a ceramic cup with a saucer. The foam barely poured out of the cup, held to the edge by gravity. There was a leaf pattern swirl of the mix between coffee and steamed milk. I admired it's beauty and proceeded to, in my photographic way, to take a cell phone picture of it. I sipped it down, occassionally munching on a sky flake crackers

I think about it for a minute and decide not to work on my work applications in the library. I take the bus home and for some reason have trouble getting the bike on the rack in front of the bus. It takes me a couple tries until the bus driver, motions me to pull the hook over the front wheel and presto! The problem is solved.

I rest in my bus seat until the bus arrives at my stop. Bike back and just crash at home. I'm tired and it had been a long day.

Not going to watch movies! RICA pass or bust!

chestnut trees

Today is another summery day. After a long day of job hunting, formating my resumes and proofreading, I cannot seem to find a way to keep the time from flying. These nice summer days are fleeting yet my room is still a mess. Student's artwork from a year of teaching stay the same only I've changed. Old papers that smack of academic jargonese and awkward phrases. Dust flies freely in this dungeon of crap. Crap that i've accumulated over the years.

Life seems to be pretty mellow right now. No sleepless night prepping for lesson plans, no all night classes. I've survived. I give the phone call a thought. Here's a part time job working as an aide waiting for me in August, yet I stubbornly yearn for a teaching job, one with my own classroom or teaching non native English speakers English.

American chestnut trees are affected by an unusual blight, a disease that kills it in its premature stage. Exceptional for its wood in furniture and other usages, it also had tasty nuts. Hence. 'chestnuts roasting on an open fire.' It's hard to think about how it'll ever return to its pre-blight status. Scientists are still working on cross polinating and making the American chestnut more resistant to the blight by cross breeding it with the Asian chestnut tree.

I wonder where life went when I was living it. All i have are the memories and the moments that seem to last but are gone. I'm lost in my own world of paper, dust and pieces of life all scattered within this tiny space. The dust is revealed as the sunrays envelop me room. I open up the window, draw up the blinds, and let the breeze carry out the staleness of my room.

Night falls and alas, I have only touched the surface. Until tomorrow, another day of routines and procedures. Gotta run some errands, cut the lawn and study for the constitution test.

yuck.

'somewhere in the Night....'

'hold onto that feeling...'

the piano chords start....his voice shouts "Just a small town girl...."

It's Journey, and my cousin's reconsidering leaving the dance. She tells her spouse with suitcoat in hand, her lethargic son, and her cousins who are carpooling to head back to the dance floor.

It's a song she heard in high school but is so classic that it seems to transcend generations. She wonders how six year old kids know the lyrics and dance to this 80s song that their mothers probably danced to.

First time i heard this song was in 'the wedding singer' starring adam sandler and drew barrymore. Sandler also uses this song in his film bedtime stories, where he tells stories to his children and it actually comes true.

Some other classic rock standards are playing

My cousin's holding a tumbler with ice water, a black straw and a lime. She takes me to the dance floor, me the wallflower i am. She's tired from dancing on the floor to some other songs. Uncle is about to head to the floor and she tells me to hold onto her drink. She has to have one dance at least with dad. reasonable. I take the glass put it down and head to where my carpool party is swaying back and forth.

it's 'you shook me all night long' by ac/dc's playing. I can see my other cousin's husband jumping up and down with his rock salute goin' up and down.

another tune's playing, some inappropriate pop tune's playing and the dance moves are flying left and right. But my cousin's husband trying to teach me and my brother some line dance moves. we follow him but we end up bumping into each other. Then my aunt steps onto the dance floor and she motions to us with her feet movements that she's gonna do the electric slide. we follow her lead and soon, all four of us are doing the electric slide. Then all the dancers become spectators, curious at what the sensation is.

It's like that scene in "Saturday Night Fever" when all the people just dance in sequence, led by the music and not by how clumsy or awkward their movement looks like. It's just rhythm and movement, in unison. You gotta feel it and not worry about how silly it is.

we exchange our thanks, shake some hands, give some hugs and exchange our farewells.

As we leave for the 'second time,' ' sweet child o' mine' is playing and we leave. It's a suitable ending to the wedding festivities. Back to the car, catch some zzz's and then meet up tomorrow morning for the brunch.

I'm told later that the party ended a few mins after we left. The party favors stood untaken and up for grabs. Took some time to deal with them and the ones left headed over to denny's for some midnight grub and to catch up. Feels like prom night and the only place to eat and shoot the breeze is an american diner, like Denny's, where breakfast is served all day and night, slices of pie and cake rotate in a glass display and Heinz ketchup and mustard are at your beck and call, next to the salt and pepper shaker and them square napkin dispensers.

I miss those nights, staying up late after a long day of pictures, dancing and all the while getting all dressed up, pretending we're rich and sophisticated, all that, but it's a rite of passage, prom or ball that is, to just celebrate our next stage in life, after high school.

Where college happens, we start to be more independent in our responsibilities and duties. The music keeps playing in my mind. Wedding music, from Mendelssohn to BeachBoys, The day began and ended with music.

I suppose wedding playlists are important. The music starts us off by indicating when the groom enters the sanctuary and when to rise to greet and honor the bride as she enters in her wedding dress.

Then the night is young, the guests start tapping their feet, strutting their stuff. Or the anniversary dance where the couples in love are requested to report to the dance floor. Then the years are counted off. And the last couple on the floor tell us how long they've been together.

A couple, very much in love, revealed to the crowd that they'd been together for half a century. Astounding applause as they still swayed together as the wind. Not relishing in the flattery but enjoying each other's presence.

The music, the dance, the songs we sang together.

'somewhere in the night....don't stop believin'.....'

' sweet child of mine' by guns 'n roses is playing, bellowing from the speakers. It's a great send off.

Wedding Playlist

I'm making a wedding playlist. I know, its weird. But I suppose music for me is a way of not just listening but also expressing yourself. I mean people sing songs for all sorts of reasons to convey something.

Well here are some that have slipped under my radar.

'The Search is Over' by Survivor

'Faithfully' by Journey

'Amanda' by Boston

'Babe' by Styx

'More Than Words' by Xtreme

"All Out of Love' by Air Supply

'Glory of Love' by Peter Cetera (yes, the theme song from The Karate Kid...)

"I Will Always Love You" by Whitney Houston.

Ok, i think that's about it for now. It seems like more I think of these songs, it brings me back to

my childhood, listening to Delilah on late night adult contemporary radio. How she'd give advice on relationships and make song requests for loved ones far and wide.

well, i guess it time to think some more about other songs.

Looking for Work

5 hundred dollars!?....FIVE hundred dollars!!!??

my first gut reaction stepping outta of that place. Seems like it costs more than an arm and a leg just to get by in this life, esp. in these parts.

Well, howdy there. My name's Jay. That's what my family calls me. I'd like to share a bit about my day today but then again, let's not. We're not acquainted so, I'll just talk about movies I've watched. I'm sure I probably seen a movie you've seen and we can have some common ground.

So I woke up a half hour past nine this morn, i'd been watching 'high noon' starring gary cooper.

A cool western, sorta like '3:10 to yuma' except its more intense. Especially the back story and how it unfolds in real time. sorta like '24.'

The film's black and white, the marshal in town's all alone and he has to fend off some hooligans who are gathering together to make a ruckus in the nice, quaint frontier town. Unfortunately, the citizens are weary of going up again bandits so its all gravitas from here on.

Not a bad film but it can be frustrating especially since there's only minimal gunfighting, (it's a western, no gunfights and gun smoke, wha?)

well, all in all, a very thoughtful film. Definitely a classic that any age and generation can find common ground.

post-eleven p.m!?: plans for summer...

to world.

I've returned to this blog, once again, after a long year of credential coursework and not working.

*sigh*

a friend from high school tells me a sigh takes three years from my life. For some reason, everything this year seemed long, there were the weddings, the night classes, observing classrooms, shadowing teachers...."on and on and on and on, street lights people/up and down the boulevard"

seems like i squeezed in a journey lyric in there. it's from 'don't stop believin'' awesome rock song.

Well I'm following the bandwagon by making a list of what to do this summer.

TO DO(s)

PASS THE RICA (S.H.M.G. ) * hint, George Washington, the U.S. first president added this to his inauguration swearing in .*

attend a couple more weddings

find work

budget expenses

get a new car

polish up resume

CLEAN ROOM

watch LOST (I'm sooooo behind. )

long term:

be a counselor at baayf

STM to Chicago

volunteering at a cafe (learning how to make coffee)

learn how to play at least three songs

so far on my youtube queue of guitar lessons to review:

"summer of '69" bryan adams

'boulevard of broken dreams' greenday

'hey there delilah' plain white t's

So there you have it. my plans for the summer.

Got a girlfriend?

So I'm driving someone to watch a romantic drama, one about a soldier back home from his tour of duty and he meets the love of his life. You probably know what movie she watched.

I am cruising down the 87 south towards Santa Teresa Ave, trying to get to Oakridge Mall, she she remarks, "got a girlfriend yet? I just have to get to the chase." Regretably I'm aback by that statement, I form up some excuse of a rebuttal and it comes out to "don't have the time..."

It's funny, someone even remarked that due to my poor organization skills, I needed someone to keep me on time and at the right place, like a mom who yells get up like a pre determined alarm clock. MY mom's like that. She's wakes up early.

Well, it made me think about my own understanding of relationships, particularly of the opposite gender. As Harry and Sally talked about, can men and women be friends? Well, I suppose I have friends who are women and also those who are men. But what I find trouble with is going deeper beyond the friendliness and into that place where you search for companionship.

Adam had Eve, Han had Leia, but what about J$?

It seems to me that this is a question that I ask myself everyday. I'm getting older as a twenty something, I still haven't found my sweetheart after getting out of college and I still live at home.

Another ramble brought to you by yours truly

- jaymoney.

Saturday Madness

It's another typical day in the Bay Area of the San Francisco Bay. Waiting in line to fill up on gas, blowing up over improper driving etiquette ( the driver who is taking your spot is attempting to swerve into yours or smiles as he takes his time parking while you wait to exit.) and so forth.

We arrive to run some errands; the usual suspects, milk, some glassware, some fertilizer and the usual household supplies. Particularly paper. It seems that in the past five years, we've subsisted on computer paper that seemed to be unlimited. Only recently did it come to my family's attention that we ran out.

So we heave all the stuff, charge the card and leave only to realize that the card's missing. Maybe we left it and some one ran with it. I ask the cashier and I'm re-directed to another associate. The other associate tells me to just call the card company and cancel it. just to be safe. I turn around and just as I'm about to call, my mom tells me it was in her bag all along, hidden under the cover of a tissue.

Whew. We go run some more errands, drop off some mail and just as we back out, another incident of overzealous suburbanites just trying to step on another to get ahead.

Alas, the day ends with me preparing a enormous volume of pasta for the week ahead. School's starting and I must make preparations for dinner lest I starve. I find that teaching has made me quite receptive to food, the usual three meals, and the in-between ones preferrably the one before dinner and the one after around midnight.

I look outside my window and the bright sunny day is a brief intermission. The rain has returned. Good, now the fertilizer that I set on my lawn can dissolve and do its work and wash my dirty car while it's at it. I sit in the living room sipping warm barley tea savoring the moment. Eager for Sunday and then another week of student teaching and classes resume.

DAY TWO - EDTE 143b

Teach Date 1.12.2010

I've been observing these past few days at a FMSD school called Windmill Springs in a first grade classroom. It's a great change in scene coming from a fall semester teaching sixth graders and switching to a lower grade.

I suppose I shouldn't get too excited because its only been the first two days. The teacher and I get along because we communicate clearly to one another. She's very transparent in providing support and mentoring advice when it comes to situations in the classroom. I really appreciate how she allows me to take initiative versus perceiving me as a newbie who might get in her way. I suppose I'm fortunate to have cooperative teachers.

First grade has been an interesting grade. The children are hilarious in the things the say, how they freely express their state of mind with no reservation. It's like they're tiny adults except they're still growing in terms of experience and knowledge.

I really should get back to lesson planning now. I've been dilly dallying for so long. It's a symptom of being on break. I still am on break although I personally decided to return to the school site prematurely. It may interfere with my break, but alas I'm in the area, I've nothing better to do and it sure is great to start school along side the students. I suppose it provides continuity.

I'll write more when the opportunity presents itself.

Day 23 of Win Break: Top Fives?

SO I guess I'll borrow from nick hornby's "hi fidelity" and try to quantify my musical repetoire. I actually listen to a lot of radio these days and its fascinating how I pick up stuff whether it be news, music or feedback while driving on the road or trying to stay sane on long travels.

SO here they are:

A: "Dust in the Wind" by Kansas

This song reminds me of the futility of man. I suppose the book of Ecclesiastes of the Hebrew Bible comes to mind. But also just how easy it is for us to get sick, to be so caught up in the muck but not able to step back and realize that our accomplishments and achievements will only linger for a short while.

I guess my trip to St. Louis, MO really opened my eyes to the effects of gentrification, suburbanization and the term "white flight." In the words of our host, Imagine a doughnut. The people in the suburbs live on the pastry part of the doughnut, think of the sweetness of the icing, the crunchiness of the sprinkles and the fluffy fried dough. Then you have the city of St. Louis itself; it is the hole, the part that is empty yet surrounded with plenty.

From one perspective, beautiful, historic, and grandiose buildings in St Louis are just kept empty and deserted only to be ready to fall; demolishing these condemned buildings is costly but harvesting the unique bricks that the brick buildings contain is a lucrative enterprise. It's sad but a reality I suppose. What a tragedy. I guess I'm biased due to my views looking in from outside. So I cannot talk about it, I can only present it through my own lens and perspective.

Makes me realize how much I need to look beyond aspiring for buying and making 'stuff" to pursuing and lifting up significant values and principles that endure throughout the ages. I suppose like building legacies, movements that persist and believing that there is hope despite the bleakness. Guess that's what i want to be a teacher. or part of it....

B: "Sweet Child o' Mine" by Guns and Roses

I remember hearing this song in Darren Aronosky's "The Wrestler" after a subtest of the CSET. A great film that exposes the deep agony of a has been.

Also this song reminds me of how smiles just lighten me up. I know a few people who just lighten up and perk up people when they speak and express themselves. I met someone at Urbana who always spoke smiling, with a cheery voice, dimples on her face and always a pleasure to talk to. So hospitable. It reminds me of a bus driver on the Santa Cruz Metro who wore Ray Bans and had a nice big smile in that whenever you boarded he would say "Nice to see ya! How ya doing?" Those kind of people definite make me feel glad that smiles are a part of our humanity.

I guess for a depressive and moody guy like myself, it's a relief and rescue. I guess that's why smiles are great. speaking for myself. And to say something that will cause someone to cry or revert from happy to sad is devastating. In my not so distant past I have said things that have made people cry. And I take those experiences with me as I learn to find grace and the ability to listen actively to form a connection, a relationship based on trust. Also that if you turn a frown upside down you get a smile!

C: "Take It Easy" by the Eagles

Ok, so the Dude of "The Big Lebowski" fame may hate the Eagles but they're one of my favorite bands. They have such a chillax way of taking country and rock and making great songs. This song is one of my take a breather songs. When I get uptight, anxious and upset I put this number on and let the guitar riffs and the easy goingness. I think some times as a farewell I say ' take it easy' did it come from this song or did it influence the penning of this song? I really dunno. Well, my friends, take it easy....

D: "Jesus Messiah" by Chris Tomlin

This song was sung at Urbana 2009 and it was so powerful. I remember hearing this song the first time at my fellowship sung by Jon in my fellowship at my church. And I figured, it's a Tomlin song, yay. But at Urbana, with the voices of 17,000 sincere and emboldened voices crying out to God to praise and worship him, that is acknowledge his Worth and his Glory. Wow, what a beautiful sight and sound!

I guess you had to be there. It's something that I am still wondering about, it's easier to describe than explain. I guess that's the mystery and yet the beautiful part of worship, it's not the music or the lyrics, it's experiencing a moment with God, to meditate fully in His presence. Makes me really appreciate the songs I sing at worship i guess.

E: "Livin' on a Prayer" by Bon Jovi

I was told by the radio deejay to try and sing this song solo and I dunno I think it's doable. I may not be able to sing as high as bon jovi but I can try i guess. This song is interesting. It tells me a story. Sure it's poppy, reminds you of the 80's but its classic.

I remember watching 'the karate kid' the whole soundtrack has like an uber 80s pop influence. Well, I suppose that's how music remains and continues to be reshaped and reformed.

I guess I am moved by the lyric "we've gotta hold on to what we got/doesn't make a difference if we make it or not/ as along as we have each other" It makes me think of community and how I look back in my life whether my faith, school or family. I was never alone. Someone was always there to be there.

Ok, and I'm a big Bon Jovi fan, esp. "Wanted Dead or Alive." I guess I'm going through a classic rock phase....