Just to document.

I feel bad that I only write things on this blog now when im depressed or upset. But that's ok, this is mostly for me anyway, and I need an outlet for this crazy time.

I still feel alone in NYC, and im still waiting for when I will be content with it.

Too many things change too quickly here.  One day the sun is out, the next day its raining. One day I feel happy, and by night im really sad. I just want things to stand still.

I feel more disconnected from my family and friends more than ever, and im not even trying hard to reconnect. There's no point I don't feel like I'm even worth the time, let alone interesting enough to really listen to. Some days I care about the world and everyone in it. Some days I don't care about anyone or I don't want to think about anything.

I love this time of my life for the freedom, yet I hate this time of my life from the loneliness. Its just always changing. I wonder how much longer things will be this way. And I wonder how long I have been this way. 5 years? 5 minutes? Will it feel different 5 seconds from now...

For Red

I have this friend named Red.
He gets sad sometimes.
I wish I could take the blue out of his veins, the purple lines that trace his being, that mark his life.
I would remove the blue. Because im blue too.
Not green, not pink, not yellow...
Blue.

Blue is the color I seek when the subway exits the tunnel.
Blue is the color I open my eyes to at 5am in the morning.
Blue is how I feel when im losing someone I love, or myself.
I have felt the deepest darkest depths of blue.
I have felt the smoothest, richest elements of blue love.
I drank the blood that had not seen air.
The color in my eyes when I'm scared.

You see, I don't mind the blue.
Im friends with it, I know it well.

So why, dear red, do you have so much?
Share it with me, I can handle it all.
I crave that blue, I greet that blue.
And you are so wonderful.
You shouldn't have to carry that blue in your purple vein.

Release it, let me see it, let me love it like I already do.

Because once you do that, once you drain and heal, I will see you.

I will see your Red.
You are my Red.
Give me that blue, so I can have my Red.

Because when you do this, you will inspire me.
You will show me strength.That I know you have.
I will see the strength that I know I have.

And I just need a little inspiration.
And pay attention, to this special life I have made.

You are in it,
And we have a plan.
To sing and dance and write those words.
That have the power to liberate you, me, everyone in sight.

So lets fight. Not just for the rev but for Red.

My red. My blue. That's mine.

This time.

I will say what I feel.

Its not washed out.

See for yourself. When I hug you again.
And tell you we have work to do.
Im ready.

The thing I thought could never happen. Happened.

I tend to lose control of a lot of things, but most of all, I lose control of my confidence in how I live.
I am cynical.
I am mean.
I get angry.
I hurt other people.

But I do not do that all the time.

I lost control of my hopes and my dreams. I lost them.
Or, I let them go.
I let them go because right now, there is no point.

Waking

Waking up in the city. its somewhat overwhelming. The people you are going to meet today might already judge you once you walk through a door. So you should wear something nice. I can think of all the things to make my day more productive.  But lately I cannot deal with stress or the pressure I put on myself. I figured i will always meet people who are more productive and successful than me. Wiser and more ambitious. I fear I have lost my ambition.  My vision of the future used to keep me going. Now I am constantly in the present. It is so regular and plain. Like the walls of my room. Waiting for color.  And for excitement.

But I fail to bring that back.

What the heck am I doing . . .

I am reflecting on all the moments that have brought me to where I am now. Some days I am incredibly happy and proud of everything I have done. Other days I feel kind of depressed that I am unemployed. It is not because I desperately need money or I will be evicted from my apartment or anything like that. But somehow in my mind, finding a kick-ass full time job would equal to me feeling accomplished, successful, etc. etc.

But now, I wonder why so many people have to make sounding unemployed of this nature to be a drag, and consider being "successful" as the key to not screwing up. Where is that pathway to success that everyone is talking about? And does it really lead to success and happiness, or does it lead to more chasing of dreams that are someone else's? Are other people's dreams and ideas of success really visionary or are they equally as exploitative as other dreams or successful people today?

And the weirdest thing, I am having a really difficult time figuring out why I came to New York City. I know it was to build a career, but I had the idea of building a career on a very individualistic and selfish premise. To be honest, I did not really know who I wanted to help, but just knew that I wanted to help someone or some realistic cause that meant something to me, every single day. I wanted something that in the end would not equal to profit or simply an experience, but I wanted something that would have meaning to somebody. Something life-changing? Or, meh, something good in a day.

Recently I started an internship with the an aids health services office. I volunteer time doing outreach in the communities all around NYC. These are primarily in lower-income to middle class neighborhoods or the Bronx, Harlem, and Brooklyn. It is not a full time job, nor is it glamorous by any means. I do not interact with people every day, instead I go to their homes without them expecting me and I hope they are home. Then I hope they answer the door. Then I hope they understand me. And then I hope that they actually need the services. And finally, out of no control of mine whatsoever, I hope they accept the services. Because in my opinion, such services really helped a lot of people. My team and I are responsible for letting them know these services exist, and that they would be served by real people who care.

Honestly, this is hard work. It does not really build any skills professionally, but you certainly learn how to talk to people. I have to learn to be persuasive and outgoing, while come off as someone they can trust. And I have to be able to withstand 3-4 hours of straight walking and riding on the subway. It is not as easy as an office job, and to be honest it is not even more engaging than an office job. But when I got a woman to open the door today and just listen to my message, I felt so relieved. I really hope she does call the number we left her.

The pros to this professionally, I am exposed to public health. All throughout school, people said that public health was in no way a glamorous profession. And I completely understand that now. But I am finding it challenging and a learning experience every day that I engage with it. On the side of this outreach internship, I am continuing my internship with a nurses union. It is also public health, but it is public health policy and advocacy, also grassroots and ont he ground. However, I hope to learn more about the policy side of healthcare through this internship, and I am learning little by little.

Tomorrow, I have an interview with occupational health services. It is a very entry-level job, but at least I will be exposed to new things in public health. My goal is to be exposed to different kinds of public health to see which one fits me the best. And suddenly, I have three different areas within this sector to focus on. And it is really really cool. Then I realize, I am actually doing EXACTLY what I set out in New York to do! It is suprising in how  these opportunities presented themselves, and it is slow in building, but I think I am on the right track. Or at least on some kind of track!

And on the side of course, community organizing with other passionate filipino youth. This is the only thing that is keeping my sanity in such a confusing yet defining time. Without this amazing crew, I would probably have moved back to California by now. But nope, they are dope, so I will stay.

Today, one of the people who did outreach with me, he told me that I need to come to New York with a plan and that I need to stick to it. He said that many people come to NYC to build up their careers and then they leave once they accomplished whatever they came here for. But even then, not many people actually help give back to the real New York. They just come to reap benefits from the city, without caring for the people affected by their business and presence. And so, I hold my presence here in New York not only with gratitude, but also with a sense of social responsibility. So even though some days I have no idea what the heck I am doing, I at least know that everyday I am doing something positive. :)

Things are lookin' up in NYC!

I called my mother last week, in tears because I felt as if transitioning into living in New York, and transitioning out of my life back in California, too many things were familiar yet new at the same time. That scared me because, it is like you are having a bad dream when you wake up in your bedroom but everything has been rotated facing the opposite side of the room. Something is similar and safe of course, but there is still mystery and a huge unknown as to how your mind even created a new space.

Besides that, my mother told me to just think of happy thoughts. She told me that now is the time to really learn how to be alone, and more importantly, how to be alone and how to be happy. I appreciate my mother because she is so patient and kind. She teaches me the hard lessons but she says it in a way that everyone goes through it and I am perfectly fine on my own. She encouraged me to do the things I loved, or have always wanted to do.

The next day I decided to explore the city. I opened up my old list of recommended places to see from my friends. First place was Strand's bookstore. I made it there just fine, and it was really cool to see the old buildings of Union Square. I also found a nice organic coffee place for a cheaper price. The next day, in anticipation of another adventure, I did some job applications first, and then as a reward I went to explore. I got two sweaters from Forever 21 that were on sale (because that always makes spending money feel better). I think I got a bit tired of layering my clothes from Cali, and sweaters really do make a difference! Then the next day, today, I went looking for the Lady M. Boutique something...whatever the reason, I got incredibly lost and ended up 10 streets away from my destination. This has happened at least half the time I go on an adventure in NYC.

So the next best thing is to walk around and find something else. I found an even cheaper bookstore than Strand's, and I decided to get a book that I enjoyed reading on the subway later. Then I purposefully found the steps that Holly Golightly climbed in her depression. The New York Library on 5th Avenue. I absolutely love this place, and I walked in to take touristy pictures. I stumbled upon a public talk for Mary Ann Caw's The Modern Art Cookbook. Everyone sitting in the room looked a bit chubby, or, I dont know I am chubby too in some parts haha. But I could tell, "Cookbook" attracted us shy foodies. And the word "Modern" attracted, well, I would assume people who admire modern art but could never label themselves as Modern. I mean, that is how I feel anyway.

When we sat down and waited as Mary Ann Caws and her guest speakers continued on with their conversation. All they were missing was coffee and a huge glass window in between themselves and the audience. That is just how engaging she is I suppose. The hostess who would moderate the talk started the event - no wait, she ficed her microphone for 5 minutes and then started the event. But it was never really a rushed start to begin with. The powerpoint showed paintings, all featuring foods: fruit, bread, asparagus, eggplant! And everyone on the panel was fascinated by the paintings. The man to the left described the history of the industrialization of food when Campbell's Noodle Soup collection by Woody Allen popped up from the 1963 memory. All of a sudden we talked about America's higher sugar intake, and "how amazing is it that I wish I could go back in time 100 years, just to try the food. It would have signifcantly less sugar but it would be delicious!". What  a great thought, man sitting to the left. I admire his fascination with the timeline of popular food culture.

The man to the right of Mary Ann was even more interesting. His checkered blazer and skunk like hair-color screamed artsy, no, it suggested artistic expertise. And he spoke with fascination towards the artistic. Not the time of it nor the style, but the emotion that a viewer feels from viewing a work of art. He was poetic. One amazing aspect of Mary Ann's cookbook was that she included famous artwork featuring food, Manet to Picasso, and paired them with poetry to Hemingway. They discussed oysters: the rawness of oysters, the luxuriousness of oysters, the smooth finish of oysters, the perfect large size 1 of oysters from the Oyster Bar in France, Hemingway's love of oysters and white wine . . . and it would continue on until the next food: BREAD. BUTTER. PEARS. and then...

THE LEMON. The most perfect lemon.

If I were to here the conversation purely by radio ear, I would think it was a pretty ridiculous conversation. But I was so fascinated by this cookbook, which would come from famous renowned chefs from our history, accompanied by poetry and paintings and life! Wow they really sold it. I could see the picture of what owning the book would feel like. Perhaps I would transport through time and space in my very own kitchen. Or maybe all the emotions and flavors I would hope for in the kitchen would finally be released through the artistic colors and the poetry.

Well, the book costs $40. For me that is pretty steep for a book. But I will definitely look forward to experimenting cooking with it. I expect it should feel like travelling. But not travelling to the tourist attractions. It would be a travel back in time to places that can no longer be there ever again in my present time. How can a book possibly do that?

I guess I will have to find out sometime... but I asked the question of how exactly we are meant to experience Mary Ann's book, 3 years in the making. And she repeated her first sentence: "This was a book meant to be read in the kitchen." And as a perfect closing, the whole audience understood what she was talking about. I was glad to hear positive comments towards question. I left happy, knowing that I helped influence a really great evening conversation.

I bought a cheap baguette and softer bread, took the subway home, and cooked an eggplant omelette. It definitely didnt taste THAT great. I have to remember to get wine next time. All the artists and poets drink wine. I am sure it makes everything taste better.

Reflection on Calls to Action

On CAR, Syria, Palestine, Bangkok, and India . . . 

It is a powerful feeling to demand a call to action from your fellow humanity. It is an urgent crisis that begs you to make that call. It is your fellow humanity alone in high numbers who can multiply those calls to an infinite amount, as long as your are still living and causing the ripple. It is they who will end the crisis, even after your inevitable departure from the world of chaos and comfort. So speak out and organize your numbers, it makes a change every day.

Post-Grad Blues . . .

Yup. I am officially there. 

I thought that being away from Irvine and people I know would make it easier for my to work on my health and redefine my goals and values in life. But this is certainly much more difficult than I thought it would be. I knew this would be a journey and a challenge for me, but when it really happens and I can feel all the emotions associated with it, its a pretty awful repeat of that one scene in 500 Days of Summer when Tom tries to get his shit together. And well, I need to really start doing this.

I realized the only person holding me back is myself, and maybe that simple realization that it has been myself all along will help me get along with any place, and help me adapt to anywhere I dare choose to go. I admit that I know I can be awkward in crowds of three or more people. One person is fine as long as I am in the mood to engage in conversation.

All my other travel experiences in groups have been ok, but I could never get around to acting like myself or saying what I really wanted to say. Almost every other interaction with someone I was still getting to know became increasingly difficult. In Argentina, Honduras, the Middle East. As grateful as I am for having the privileges to travel to where I have been, I often wonder if I would be any different if I did it all over again .  . . would I be more adveturous? More honest? More open and upfront with people? Or would I flat out either make an excuse again that people are just not interesting to talk to, or that I am just awkward?

I don't know but, what I do know is that I need to be more comfortable in my own skin and with myself, and all the embarrassing words and actions that come along with it. I used to think that change was really hard for me to get used to. But I do not think its a change of location as much as it is the changes that happen inside of me.

But I really want to do it.

I want to adapt to New York and become the person I had hoped to be.

I want to be my complete self without inhibiting anything anymore.

I want to feel alive again.

Cheers, Tom.

Reflections on OTI and why it is so Hard to Reflect

**DISCLAIMER: Do not read this blog entry if you hate tangents and blog entries that are free-formed in writing.**

K Thanks...

ENTRY:

I originally started up this blog again 6 months ago to reflect on my trip to Israel and Palestine. I really should have reflected more right after the trip. But I realized, and I am not afraid to say this now, I still do not understand so much about the conflict. No, I am not an expert, nor do I ever hope or wish to be. And yes, me attending the trip to the region amongst a handful of aspiring experts felt like it was for completely selfish reasons. I had originally gone to see through different perspectives, enhance my world view, to discover a different part of the world, its politics, its friends, its enemies, and try to understand why it is such a difficult thing to figure out.

As if I was that middle school kid again who jumped in between 2 older guys fighting in the lunch courtyard while everyone else watched. Many called me crazy for going in, I could have gotten hurt myself. Others said what I did was the right thing to do. Others again felt that I should have just waited for the adults to deal with it.

Is it safe for me to say that I did it completely out of impulse? I didn't even think about it. I just wanted it to stop.

And thus, that weird, uncomfortable, force of habit has now evolved over time and throughout college. It is what pushed me to join the trip. No, it was not the Filipino activist I had told myself over and over about. And no, it was not really to enhance my world view. It was simply because I couldn't help to see people fighting and I wanted it to stop. I wanted it to stop on campus, I wanted it to stop in communities, I wanted it to stop for future kids like me.

NO. This is not pacifist, or whatever political thinkers want to label it. This is not a call for peace either. Peace is an agreement between parties to make ammends. But what I wanted, I wanted to see the truth. I wanted to see the truth as to why things haven't stopped. And I have concluded, we just live in a very toxic world. Sometimes the pursuit of justice is dirty, and its hurtful, and it causes regret in a life that was already so privileged to begin with. And justice does not take sides.

I now completely agree with my own theory that nothing in this world can truly be figured out. Somehow, someone will always lose.

Is it fair to say something so subjective about this trip that I had this privilege to attend? No, no I do not think it is fair at all, it is quite insulting, however, it is the truth and truth has never been fair. Especially to those who hide it or wash it in hopes that it becomes clearer and clearer when really all it does...is make the truth transparent, to the point that is disappears. And one realizes it can no longer be there.

I never believed in facts for this reason. I believe facts can be manipuated by people and politics just as much as stories and myth. So I do not want to ever tell myself that there are limits to what I can do, that a person can only do so much, that the world cannot be fixed by one person.

At night I dream I redefine my world. I alter it, in ways that are manageable until it gets bigger and bigger. This is a choice because I value my life too much and do not want it to be completely consumed. So in my lens, the lens that I wish was bigger after arriving back from the trip, the lens that I had wished would be more open and rational and practical, well my lens saw the following:

1. The people who work in the United Nations are brave, self-fulfilling, working in the confines of a strict political society. They have years of experience and understand people. They have eyes that look tired, held by faces that contort into expressions of hope and promise. They all believe in different things, but do not feel they have enough freedom within their workplace to express such views. They hope at the end of the day they can go home and relax and think about their own everyday problems. They wish they had higher positions. They work hard to earn those higher positions. The reason they do this is because they entered with the hope that they would change the world in their own way. They have learned that the only ones who actually make the big decisions are at the top of the tier. And in order to get to the top of the tier, you have to play the game. The game is difficult. But playing it will get you a higher paying job. So why not.

The people who serve the people of the United Nations, they are different. You look at them, and you do not see the regret that they wish they could do more. You see them as people who hope that they could do more good one day, but in the meantime, until they have the chance to make those big decisions, they will do their jobs well. They will go home and be greatful. They arrive in the morning again and are able to chat with friends over lunch or choose a healthier diet option. They are just grateful to be there, employed. This is the type of person I would strive to be if I ever worked for the UN. Sure, it might be slower to rise in position, and sure it might not create the most change in policy or design, but it is an example of the people who practice self care first. Those are the people who can make meaningul decisions that actually make an impact.

If you have no idea what I am talking about. It's ok, because this is through my own lens. I don't even know what I am talking about. But its best to let it out.

2. The food in Israel and Palestine is delicious. Especially the home-made ones because you know it took hours to make. The times I smiled the most during the entire trip is when I see a meal that was prepared by a mother. This always happened more in a Palestinian home. It is pure love, which means it was sure as hell difficult but you made it anyway because it was not for you. And you knew it was risky but you just hope its good.

3. Anyone during the trip who told us they had lost a loved one, they are ok. But it came with a price. They did their time of suffering that when they tell you their story and you cry, they are immune to reacting to you. Because they tell you the story in hopes that you get it. They expose themselves to help you understand the world. They do not want anyone else to go through that kind of pain. Not even their enemies. They may wish it, but if they really think about it, they wish they would stop thinking about it and just move on. But that would not give their lost love justice.

4. The ocean. Anytime you see it, it is beautiful. And it truly is a pool of tears for what it has seen happen on land. That is why the ocean is so big. It has seen a lot.

5. The cats are hungry too. You don't need to take pictures of them. As you would not take pictures of starving people. It's not cute and neither are the starving cats.

6. Yeah. There is fear. It is in everyone. And people fear each other.

7. There are Israelis who do not give a single second of a thought about Palestinians. There are Palestinians who do not give a single of a second of a thought about Israelis. There are Palestinians and Israelis who do not give fractions of single seconds of thoughts about Ethiopians, the Bedouin, Filipinos, or Americans. And this can be argument enough to explain why there is still conflict in this region, but I guess that is too easy and simple of an answer to those who do give seconds of thought about others besides their own.

8. People never want a simple answer. Or at least, they want an answer that scientifically makes sense to them. People look for follow up questions. But really it doesn't mean anything. We all were never that great of listeners to begin with. So we will pick up bits and pieces and hope we can figure out the rest later, over a series of events, experience, reading articles or the news. You know, we will read about it more later.

9. How old are these olives? Probably centuries old.

10. The Israeli photographer in his small shop carried down from his father, placed in the Old City. He thinks about the past. And he holds on to it because the memory of his father was happiness enough.

11. Civilians look at guns and feel safe. Tourists look at guns and feel afraid. Soldiers look at guns and think "it is pretty awesome that I get to hold this gun".

12. None of the Muslim girls that I exchanged emails with ever emailed me. I never got their emails. Dang it, we totally could have been friends. But its ok because for that brief moment we exchanged stories about dancing hip hop and that was pretty awesome.

Well, these 12 things should be simple and complex enough for one night. I will reflect more appropriately later. It's just, hard to reflect on, you know?

Ok I hit rock bottom

I do not know why, but I have been inhibiting myself from experiencing all that I want to experience in New York. Maybe its the freezing cold temperatures that keep me away? Maybe it's the fear of the unknown.

Whatever it is, I realize that I am officially in that post-grad funk.

For some people it is fantastic, maybe? For others it is depressing? Well I guess I am going through a mixture of both. But then I try to remind myself that I have never had a chance to really be myself in a while. Especially at a big university where everyone on campus is so involved. But now I really want to put it into practice without trying to impress anyone or fit in anywhere.

Its true, college in many ways was like a bigger version of high school. And I never even sought out for an experience like that, it just fell into my lap. Until now only have I begun to realize that there are so many other categories to prioritize than school involvements. Because for me that was all there was for a time there. That was what kept me going or helped me through at the end of the day. Now I have absolutely no idea exactly what to get involved in. Sure I had a bunch of ideas and hopes and aspirations, but maybe some of that was just noise amidst a hyperactive over-stimulating college climate?

Well, I am no longer in college anymore, and I am starting to see more and more of what the real world is like everyday. I want to be humble and I do not want to pretend I am even super independent, a go-getter. Honestly, I have to learn how to that again in a big city, let alone, getting out of my apartment again and being comfortable just being alone. I find myself constantly reminding myself that this was a choice that I made, moving out to NYC with very little friends. And I have to remind myself that I do not know any strangers in that coffee shop, so why am I even worried that people in the coffee shop would judge me for being alone? I have to stop imagining the word "tourist" or "California girl" is stamped in big black letters on my forehead, or pinned to me back for all to see.

After processing it all, I realize that I am good at it though. Being alone and exploring by myself. I used to find a lot of joy and comfort in it. So I am waiting for it to click, for that adventurous spirit to come back. I lost it somewhere between the dream of coming to New York and my present reality. So . . . yeah I guess I will just see, maybe tomorrow will be different.

Post World War 2 apartment lobby

Moving out of dad's old Apartment and into a new one!!

My Big Move to New York

I recently moved to New York to live with my dad.  It is much cheaper to live in the Bronx size the rent is cheaper. At first I felt terrified seeing where we live now. But that's because it was night time. During the day it is quite nice. The children go to school and parents go to work. A working class town. I know it will take some getting used to but I'm glad to be here.