24

24 is an interesting number; actually it's always been one of my favourites. It's digits add up to the first perfect number and is a multiple of said number. It is the factorial of 4. The tesseract is a really cool 4 dimensional analog of the cube consisting of 24 2-D faces all of which are squares. There are 24 hours in a day on earth. A lot can happen in a single day. One of the best ones is simply that there are 24 total major and minor keys in Western tonal music. Almost all of the music I have ever known and loved has been written and played and sung in one of those keys.

Birthdays are a time for introspection it seems.

I want to say so many things about each year of my early twenties. It's been a ride so far. I don't particularly feel different. But I have to say I all of the sudden feel old. I get to say I am in my "mid" twenties now. My 18 year-old self imagined that I'd be in school working on my masters by now. Unfortunately, and some might say fortunately, that is not the case. There is a lot to my life that I didn't expect to have experienced. I am just a little bit wiser. Or rather, I understand better that my perception of the world was small and have since broadened my view of it. My goal is to continue to do so. The weeks prior to my birthday had been a bit crazy. I had a really good visit from some family, but I had been struggling with what I like to call growing pains. I am realizing I am different and the people I have chosen to befriend are different and my environment is different. I hadn't adjusted because I was changing internally along with my external changes. It felt a bit like I was losing myself in there somewhere. I was spinning.

I have recently come home from a much needed vacation. It was a lot to take in and it felt like we were always on the move, but it was a hell of a lot of fun. Now, sitting in my comfy chair at home, I am so glad to have taken the time away. It sort of resets our brains. My thoughts feel a bit clearer, hence the ability to finish this post finally (ha). I feel a bit renewed in a sense. That I should take on being 24 with a sense of youthfulness and excitement instead of disappointed nostalgia. That's just sad. I'm too young and life's too short for that. Going back to work is gonna be a bit of a struggle though to be totally honest. That's okay. It's summer. And summer was always my time. I have been thinking the last couple of weeks about what it means to be my age. I have come to the conclusion that it is completely up to me. It simply doesn't matter what the world thinks I should be doing. I just need to make up my mind to do something and do it. I was a bit depressed at the fact that I am 24 and haven't actually accomplished many of the things I had originally set out to do. But that's the way of life. We change, as do our priorities. It simply means that I do not need to wait on my dreams because I missed a few of the pit stops I had intended to take along the way.

And in that spirit, my partner and I have started making some very big decisions. I was honestly rather scared at the prospect, but the wild, free-spirited part of me just said, "Why the hell not?" So I have resolved to do some things in the way of bettering myself (mostly because I had gotten so far away from treating myself right) and moving towards going after the things in life I kept waiting on.

I'll be posting about the recent travels and big decisions (probably separately) soon.

arsonist's lullabye

It's been a while since I decided to write. Can't think of anything specific enough to write about. I meant to update everyone on how living in California is going. I have acquired a local liaison (a friend, haha) to occasionally show me around when our schedules coincide once in a blue moon. I will for sure make a fun post about all I've actually gotten to see. It's beautiful here. I didn't realize the ocean could be so captivating when I know so little about it. Maybe that's why some things remain beautiful to us. The mystery. I feel so cliche right now sitting with my overpriced Starbucks coffee contributing to the capitalist stereotype pretending to be aloof. Maybe writing a novel or something. All I'm missing are my glasses to complete the look. Got that grunge look going on today, ha.

Today isn't going to be some insight into how to live life. Nothing poetic. I just wanted to get this itch out of my system. Thank you for allowing me the space to do so.

I've had this song playing over and over and over in my head for the part four days. I would say it's becoming a nuisance, but it's a good song so I don't mind. I think it speaks to me because of my affinity to fire. The chorus goes like this:

All you have is your fire...
And the place you need to reach -
Don't you ever tame your demons
But always keep 'em on a leash

Fire represents a lot of things to us. To me. Just as it's foil, water, it can also represent life. In Greek mythology, it was a secret of the divine until someone brought it down to us so we could survive. Kinda cool huh? It can destroy just as easily as give life. The elements are much this way. We are at the mercy of such things when outside of ourselves. But what about the elements we carry within us? What about our internal fires and the things that fuel us to move forward not back? If you look at some of the people that inspire us the most, the people who traverse the greatest distances and achieve the highest goals, they seem to always have a "why". Something that drives them. And if said "why" is strong enough, it can push us humans to the brink of destruction or the ever elusive sweet spot just before it that we call success. Now don't get me wrong. Success can mean a lot of things. But whatever that means to you, in order to get there, one must pass through the fire and brimstone. And as mentioned before, not fall to destruction first. And when push comes to shove, they were right. All we have is our fire and the place we need to reach. Sometimes it's the only thing that keeps us going. One foot at a time. It's the line after that where it seems to get interesting though. Demons? Sure, we all have our baggage. None of us can be in another's head so demons are sure to vary as well.

[Ugh another conversation for another time. My fingers can't keep up with my brain...]

But refusing to tame them? That takes an extraordinary amount of faith in one's ability to stay balanced. Teeter tottering on a paper thin wire a thousand feet from the concrete. You have to be a special kind of person to feed from the madness and keep it in check. Most people can't do it. That's what therapists are for. But I think I like this sentiment so much because it requires also stubbornness. A willingness to grit one's teeth and fight for being who you truly are, demons and all.

Anyways. California is a big place, yet to be explored. Had some family in town for a bit. It was good to see them and to force myself to see more of San Diego. The zoo was pretty awesome. I'll have to go back for the panda bear. :) Now that the weather is looking better everyday I'm sure I'll be seeing more of the beach. Running and getting back into shape has definitely been on my mind the last couple of months. Just need to know when to take it easy because nothing good comes all at once. It takes work and consistency and knowing when to rest. I am super awful with the resting. I go hard at things but then burn out, but I'm workin' on that too.

This post feels a bit incomplete. Mind has been foggy the last week. Need to take some time to clear it. Writing helps too. More soon maybe?

2015

Happy New Year!

Naturally, I wanted to post a little something about this year. It's been full of changes. This post is going to be a bit scattered and long so I apologize in advance. Thank you for taking the time to read it anyway.

I believe I am beginning to acclimate to the new environment. The start of the year was full of the news that we might be moving and worrying about where we should go. Things might be very different if I were writing this from Boston right now instead of San Diego. But it's also been a year of growth and love and sadness and despair and loss. It's been a very human year, as odd as that is to say.

Being able to see the ocean and be drawn in by its wonders has been a changing experience. I can't get over how little we know about it and how vast it is. And powerful. It's humbling really. And it makes me appreciate my existence that much more, knowing how small I am compared to the ocean which supports life on this planet. All life. But it's all so beautiful. I think for some reason my mind had grown a little complacent to things such as beauty and art because I lived in the city. Salt Lake City was great for what it was and for the time I was there, I learned a few things about myself too. Being away from my home town and living independently was freeing. But SLC was also very grey. I suppose most big cities are this way when living downtown. If you venture out into the rest of Utah apparently it's beautiful and full of great hiking places, but I never really took the time to appreciate it all. Skiing was the closest I got to being close to nature all bundled up and freezing and trying not to fall every 5 seconds. The mountains were breathtaking, but in a whole different way. Harsh and beautiful all at once. And also huge ha.

I wanted to take note of this summer too. It was a summer I think of honesty. There is a lot of pain I carry when it comes to my family. I love them. I do, but like most people, family members are the ones with whom we struggle the most. Take, for instance, my siblings. I had held onto this notion of them for so long and I think sometime this year I decided to let it go. I wanted to by apart of their lives. I wanted to accept them for who and what they are, and I wanted them to accept me in that same way. Despite all of our differences, I think the biggest one being our difference in beliefs I wanted to open a pathway for us somehow. I felt too that they did as well. I know they struggle with the fact that I do not believe in a god but I realize that it is because they love me. I can at least be grateful for that. I also think it is a good venue for which we can have conversations to understand each other.

I have also found that I have made room for another mother in my life. I wasn't really sure at first what to think of that or whether or not I was going about it all the right way, if there is such a thing. It seemed at first such a delicate thing, this relationship, and I didn't want to do anything to mess it up. The mother I am lucky enough to have had all my life is not without her faults. And while I am grateful to have had a mother, I am also still dealing with the effects of growing up this way, as are my siblings each to varying degrees and for an array of reasons. My partner's mother has a big heart. She is probably the most empathetic woman I have ever met. Almost to a fault, but has done well to overcome the hurdles of being one who feels for others so keenly. She and her husband were gracious enough to take me into their home and accept me as their son's partner. Everything in this arena in life was very new to me. It felt almost like a milestone. To have another person that is not your partner choose to make you part of their family is an honor I had no idea I would have the pleasure of knowing. Over the summer, we came to have this habit of having conversations by ourselves about work, life, love, family, etc. I felt I had gotten to know her and it happened just by chance. For the first time since meeting Angel, I felt I could speak openly about some of my past hurts. I knew, looking at this woman, that she was going to love me anyways in spite of the fact that I am not perfect. That in fact, I am still damaged. And yet, she could see I was the right fit for her son. I have learned a lot from her too. That it's okay that I feel empathy for others. That it's okay to branch out. That it's okay to find my own passions again. That it's okay to love myself even when I am hurting. That it's okay I have scars. I'm not sure why I felt compelled to mention this. But it's worth it to say that she is near and dear to my heart.

Nearing the end of this year I have a few things I am beginning to see and learn. My happiness is solely dependent on me. I am in control of whether or not each day I am taken care of. Granted my partner is a source of happiness for me, I am still in charge of whether or not I am taking care of my emotional and mental welfare. That's up to me. I suppose you can say that I am taking ownership. I am also changing. And that's okay. My interests are changing and what I look for in people is changing too. I am accepting the fact that I am not as solitary of a creature as I have thought in the past. Or that I am in more need of balance than I used to be since I am no longer in school. I also need to take better care of myself physically. Not out of guilt or obligation. But just because that is part of the package of taking care of myself and my own happiness. I still want to be strong but I am re-figuring in what ways and what that means and why. I need to let go of fear of changing and fear of how that might change my relationships, because what works positively for me will be able to fit into my relationships positively as well. If not, then there is a problem elsewhere.

So moving forward I'm sure I'll have resolutions, but before I put into writing what they are, I want to make sure that I am resolute in my determination to actually achieve them. You know, to be accountable and all. I would talk about all the loss, but I'm not totally sure I'm ready to do that just yet so publicly.

Anywho, have a happy new year and safe travels! Looking forward to 2016.

the golden state revamped

Welllll.... note to self: PAY MORE ATTENTION WHEN FORMATTING AND EDITING.

Because I had overwritten the original post for this. *sigh*

I will give a proper California update within the next couple of days.

facepalm.

for giggles

So instead of posting really serious things all the time. I thought I would try and post something down memory lane that even though embarrassing at the time, I look back on and laugh.

A little background into the story. I decided my senior year of high school that it was high time to try something new. I was preparing to study music in college, thus wanted to make myself more desirable as a prospective student and more versatile for education purposes. I also just wanted to see how much music one could possibly fit into a single academic year. So I decided to take Band. I was already heavily involved in Orchestra, Choir, and Theatre. So I thought why not just do all of the performing arts? A normal school day consists of seven courses each lasting about 50 minutes. But with specialized classes, they are only offered at a specific time with no other options. As a senior I was required to take a Government class and I was enrolled in AP Govt. However, with the rest of my schedule in place the only open period was the first one of the day. It was impossible to move the other classes anyway, as many of them were also performing arts classes. With much pleading, I presented my case and it turns out -- with the permission of all teachers, the student counselor charged with your case, and the principle -- one could be allowed to split time between two courses held during the same period in the day. My schedule looked a little something like this:

1. Band/AP Govt

1. Japanese I

1. AP Music Theory & Harmony

1. A Cappella Choir (ironically we did not actually sing a cappella)

1. AP English

1. Northwinds Chorale (Adv. Choir)

1. Orchestra

5 of the 8 courses were music related. I thought it was neat. But this is neither light nor funny and I don't want to bore you any more than I must. Without further adieu dear readers, one of the most embarrassing moments of my high school career:

It was the homecoming game and my first big appearance on the field with the marching band. God knows why I thought that it would be a good idea to join marching band, but okay. So that little bit before the game starts where the band marches for about 5 minutes, plays, then stands on the field while the national anthem gets sung? Well for me I was actually one of the singers as well, as our advanced choir always sung the national anthem at home games. The first part I did with flying colors. So feeling rather good about myself I proceeded to sprint to my place among the singers. From my place on the field, I had about 20 meters to run and failed to notice two things. A) that there was a strip of tarp between the field and the track, and B) that it had poured rain that morning, thus covering the now invisible tarp with mud.

Yes. It is exactly as you are thinking now. At full speed -- or at as full a speed as one can go in a heavy uniform, marching shoes, and toting a rather large instrument -- in front of hundreds of people, home and away fans alike, I did a slip-n-slide hitting the ground before I knew what was even happening. Feet in the air, breath knocked from my lungs. Shock-stricken it took me what felt like an eternity to get up. Of course it really only amounted to three seconds because coming up behind me there were 2 others in my exact situation. They had further to run you see and they stopped to make sure I wasn't hurt. Neither were tactful enough to keep from laughing. I do not blame them. There is not one person I know who could have kept from bursting into laughter after seeing a fall like that one. Not unless they were a boring person. In those three seconds I could hear the inhale of an audibly surprised gasp. You can imagine the laughter that followed and the buzz of talk. I decided to make the most of it. Since I knew I would be needing to take my hat off to sing I did what I thought would deflate the situation. I bent over, removed my hat, and movie style-like flipped my hair and stood up. My hair back then was still down to the small of my back. Effectively revealing to everyone who it was. It's not as if I could have hid it. If they didn't know me then, they'd have found out by the end of the game. 

Brushing off some of the mud that had smeared itself all over my torso and legs I took my place, stood tall, and sang the national anthem. I think that's the only time I'd ever really enjoyed singing it. I had to fight back the embarrassment and the hysterical laughter bubbling up from my depths. I managed to do so with some manner of respect. And the people, too, quieted just enough to hear us sing. We calmly all turned to our left and filed off the track. I did have a bit of a horror moment when I realized of all the people in the world, an ex happened to be sitting front and center. But that moment passed pretty quickly because I realized that I just didn't care. Without so much as split second to pass we all dissolved into side-aching laughter as soon as we were off. My two peers had come to thank me for taking the fall for them because apparently, having seen me go down so tragically, they slowed their pace and carefully approached the speed trap. One had said he had almost fallen even with the warning carrying his large sousaphone (marching tuba). Through the ruckus we could all still hear the footsteps of the band moms scrambling to get down the bleachers to inspect my uniform and the damage. It was then that I realized I had dented my instrument. It was out for a week for repairs. Poor Marty. 

In short, in front of hundreds of people I took a bow and sung the national anthem whilst covered in mud. I think the fall was the worst part. Oh and the fact that it was freezing for the rest of the game since I had to stay and play with a soaked uniform. Fantastic. So there you have it. It's a shame I never did see if anyone got a video of it or not.

not a monument yet

So... I was just laughing at how ridiculous I am. I know I can be a bit of a volatile person. I realized again for the millionth time how grateful I am for someone so patient and light-hearted. I throw fits over nothing sometimes and get sad or angry over the littlest things. Somehow, Angel, the best person I know seems to be able to handle all of it. Even if it's aimed at him when he's just the innocent bystander of that particular day's tantrum storm. Then the other night he stayed up until some crazy hour answering all the questions I had on my mind and bantered back and forth about things we didn't agree. We covered a lot. Philosophy, his paper, the universe/physics, Einstein, linguistics, mathematics, back to philosophy, politics/social issues. Then we discussed how I am a bit insane. I realized then that he had to be up at 8am and would not be getting a sufficient amount of sleep because he was willing to entertain my mind going 800 mph and still keep up. In fact, he was exhausted and still did it. Is it odd that after all these years he can still amaze me?

I keep thinking about how people make compromises in their lives. I think I have made some in order to be with Angel, but I know each time I do so, I've made the right choice. That every day choice to be with this person is the right one, because he is the right person for me. It made me sad to think that people that I care about do not have that luxury. Maybe life had led them away from that person. A lot of people might respond with "then it wasn't meant to be". But it's too passive for me. Why are we damned to submit to some kind of fate? "Predestined" is a cop out. I am a fighter. There are many who are not and I lack the empathy to understand.  People always talk about how marriage is a lot of work, but worth it in the end. But when troubles come round, that's what we do isn't it? Fight. We fight each other but it's the ones who choose to fight to be with each other who survive. It's not as if that's all love is. But all things worth anything come with a bit of a struggle. As the saying goes, "a little pain never hurt anyone."

Anywho, I digress.

I am working on trying to still my temperamental tendencies. You know, just to reign them in a bit. I understand that I'm a fiery person and embrace that fact. However, there are many aspects that can be damaging to oneself and to relationships. Anger is one of them. I was told that I am the type of person that searches for something to be angry about. I was taken aback at first and a little defensive. After some thought I came to realize that they were right. Sometimes I can divert that anger into good and throw it into something I really believe in, such as being green and reducing our carbon footprint. The environment is something I feel rather strongly about and I find myself angry about it a lot. This I don't mind so much so long as I am active about finding a way to help and it doesn't eat away at me. It doesn't. There are at times things I really do not need to be angry about. I allow annoyance to turn into anger pretty quickly. I have almost no coping mechanisms and safeguards to protect myself from anger. Especially in cases that whatever I'm angry about just doesn't matter. Or it's not something I can change. I would say I'm not a control freak but I am. 

And then there's resentment. When anger turns to resentment it can start to get really hurtful. There's this person in my life whom I've cared for for a long time. Needless to say, we've had some rocky times and now we're in this place. I'm not sure what to call it. I apologize for being unclear. There's this sadness that I carry for them because I want very much for things to improve but I just don't know how to go about it other than to leave it be. To let it run its course and unknot itself with time. And impatient as I am -- I just takes too damn long. Ha. I have recently discovered that there is a small harbored resentment tucked away. When I speak of them critically I had told myself that I was just being realistic, but that's not true. I was resenting the fact that I'd been rejected by this person long ago. And so, out of self-preservation, began to be critical of them. Maybe to lessen the hurt?

It's proof however that I still care for them. And if ever there was an olive branch, I would take it. In a heartbeat. I would extend it myself but haven't got a clue how.  Regardless of all of that I am now deciding that I need to try and let it go. Stop being angry about the past and allow for a time of growth instead of stifled tension. I thought that I was being weak for laying down and taking it all. That's not it though is it? For me, it was easier to be mad. It takes more strength to not just let things go but to overcome anger altogether. Anger itself is my enemy if I cannot use it as fuel for self-improvement. In this case, I cannot. And it's slowly teaching me that I pay for such anger with pieces of my spirit. Chipped away little by little.

No more.

I have thus taken it upon myself to commit to memory something to help the process. As my parents taught me to memorize the bible in hopes it's verses would be of use, I will try and do just that. Except that it won't be something out of the bible. I'll be employing Plutarch to be my right hand man in my battle with Anger:

"Worse men have conquered better, but to set up in your soul a victory monument over anger -- with which Heraclitus says is hard to fight, for whatever it wants it buys with soul -- that is the mark of a great and victorious strength."

He's right though... worse men have conquered better.

apassionato

"Passion, it lies in all of us, sleeping, waiting... It speaks to us... guides us... Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love, the clarity of hatred, and the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion maybe we'd know some kind of peace, but we would be hollow -- empty rooms shuttered and dank. Without passion we'd be truly dead." (BtVS S2)

Sometimes I think Angelus' thoughts on it says it best. 

There are a number of things I am passionate about, but only one thing I love. Love is stronger than passion and rightly so; this seems an easy enough concept for people to accept, but even as it may be, passion is not something to be taken lightly. To have a passion for something is to be tied to it. In some way it is tethered to your very being and essential to your personage. For some reason, the word 'passion' is used much in the same lax way as the word 'love'. I feel this dilutes the intended meaning for the words. There are so many words in the English language and yet these words are rather limiting. Perhaps that is why over time 'passion' and 'love' have become interchangeable. My instinct tells me that they are closely related and it has been my experience that it is very much the case. Maybe because love, for someone like me, implies that I am also passionate for the thing I love. In this case, a person -- another being. However it is not a bi-conditional statement; P implies Q but not vice versa. Passion does not necessarily imply love. It may be that there is much confusion because, for many, it is sufficient. So in that case, it is sufficient to say that they love x because they are passionate for x. And so the two are never separated and they become wishy-washy things that elude people and continue to plague them by dancing around in the haze. It casts a provocative shadow and the glimpses are hard to grasp, but all the same are breathtaking too. I think maybe that is the obsession with such things. They seem a bit unattainable. There is need for the word 'passion', I think, and need for the separation. It represents something very distinct. People have forgotten what it was or have not been educated otherwise, yet still they continue to have passions. They say they love those things, and mayhap they do, but passions in the present age are equivalent to mere strong curiosities and inclinations. 

In simple terms: Passion is fashion nowadays.

So who are those of true passions, pure and undiluted? This I ask myself. It should be easy to distinguish the genuine from the spurious, though many cannot tell. Sometimes it is almost a palpable aura and one can feel it seeping from the very pores of a passionate man; likewise, the apocryphal fanatics of garish whims air a stench that reeks of burning plastic -- the smell of bandwagons. Still, other times it is not so apparent. And it becomes a game much like the one the 'academics' play with the 'intellects'. The world of passions becomes this gaudy masquerade with masks and feathers and pearls and the smell of bodies jostling about one another on the dance floor. And when you look closely enough you find that you cannot remove some of their masks. Oh the shock! That their masks are not masks at all but the real form of their faces! At first it seems an odd juxtaposition to the normality of the elegant gowns and handsome tuxedos. It might be that they were not born with these features, but they seemed to have developed them, grown into them, and now it is a part of them. It seems to me that passions can be very much like this. And then you come to one whose mask rips off and the cheap elastic snaps with a decisive sharpness, you find yourself taken aback and disappointed. You see their face suddenly as this blank piece of round flesh and it repulses you to the point of disgust. The 'deformity' of the maskless is preferable to the shapelessness of the paraders.

How does one define passion? Do you at all? It strikes me as one of those 'immeasurables'. Take for instance my affinity for music: It has become one of my most defining traits and grown into my strongest passion, only second to my passion linked with my love. For a long while I was under the impression that I loved music. It was a fine assumption actually, until I found what true love was. However, this put into perspective the profundity of music even in the role of passion instead of love. In truth, it has strengthened what music is and means to me in part because I have found its proper function. My passion for music has afforded me some of my most precious memories and offered me a venue through which I may grow, create, and nurture my potential. This is extremely similar to what love also can do, but again there is a major distinction. My passion is intimate and personal and inward. It is that of which my cave is constructed where the tyrannies of the world cannot touch me. And though I may share my passion completely with my love -- because all that is mine and me is always his and us -- it feels it is very much mine. I know not how to phrase this accurately. It seems the ideas and conceptions I hold of my passion are conflicting, but the tensions are important. It is burning and strong, yet I possess the impulse to be protective of it as it is fragile and delicate. I suppose I have this inclination because music is close to me. Self-preservation at work, though not in any direct sense. It is a subtle instinct. I suppose I would find myself a little lost without it because it is so intricately twined into my person. I think one might find there is music in the double-helix. I bet my atoms move in rhythm. I do not presume to know which rhythm.

I am asking the wrong questions it seems. That's the trouble with words. You never know quite how to ask and when someone tries to answer you they hardly ever know what you're asking. Words are not always enough. But I am still just skirting around all the things I am trying to say. That is one of the reasons I chose music and music chose me. I have no affinity for words, but I know how to communicate through music. I am freed from the limitations of my feeble vocabulary. It is in my music that I am privileged to find passion itself. And perchance while listening to the music I will come across some great stroke of genius. Or maybe it will reveal itself as all having been my genius just waiting to be realized. It might be this was the reason for my musings on passion. I have been feeling it all building up inside of me, the music just swirling around in my head itching to get out. It puts me rather off balance after years of being immersed in the musical world. Now, choosing to step out of it, I am restless and have not the slightest sometimes with what to do with myself.

Musicians cease when there is no more music left in them.

It seems easier to just ask the stars. They too are on fire and may relate to my plights and perhaps because they have no need for my language, they will know what it is I inquire. But even here, in this realm and on this earth, I find that some of my best moments are grounded in my passions. It might be accurate to say that most of them have been. And here is why a separation between love and passion is necessary: it acknowledges the weight of passion without the ballast of love's magnitude. Do not mistake me. Love in no way is diminished by this particular type of sundering.

Both are extreme, sometimes dangerous, powerful affirmations of life.