Sunday, July 31, 2005

I'm not even sure why I blog anymore.

It's not like I'll quit.

Or make an announcement that it's all over.

I don't dig that.

I don't feel like I owe anything to the people who happen to read all of this.

Hell, I'm not even sure if people check in regularly to see that I haven't updated in a while.

It's like guys who say, "Bros. over ho's".

I always hear or read about some dude complaining about how his boy dropped everything for a women.

They call him "pussy whipped".

He's no longer a "good friend".

Duh, muthafucka.

Our main objective in life as men is to fuck.


Do not assume otherwise.

Eating and sleeping?


If you promised me pussy, I'd skip a couple meals or a night of sleep.

So if a man finds a woman who is attractive and willing have sex with him, he will do anything it takes to keep her around.

But some guys don't get that.

They feel betrayed as if the woman took his friend away.

But what's supposed to be great about great friends is the fact that they will always be there when you really need them.

If my boy found a good girl, good for him.

I'm happy for him.

Sure, he doesn't kick it as much.

He's always doing something with his woman.

But I don't mind.

That's his life.

And if I need anything, he'll be there for me.

And vice versa.

Oddly enough, that's how I perceive my relationship with my blog.

My blog is there when I need it.

It doesn't nag me to post when I don't feel like writing.

It doesn't talk shit behind my back.

It's just there.


Right here.

I used to tell myself that I wrote in my blog to communicate with the people who read it.

When I went through a tough part of my life, my blog was there for me to express myself without worrying about the response and about the backlash.

I look back on what I've written in the past 2 years and I don't regret a single thing I've written.

It feels good.



Not only when the words are written, but when they are read over and over again.

There's something about having a journal or a documentation of your life.

It's almost like an autobiography, not written for others, but for yourself.

It's something you can't measure in inches or in pounds.

Not even in years or in wrinkles on the face.

These blogs are a documentation of personal growth.

But people perceive honesty as vunerability.

Not many people are willing to let the guards down to notice.

It is the beauty of written word.

Reading back on your old blogs, you can still feel the emotion and understand the state of mind.

It's all worth it, no matter how little you put into it.

Tic-toc.... Tic-toc..... Tic-toc....

Friday, July 29, 2005

I was watching "So You Think You Can Dance" (aka American Dance Idol) on Fox the other night. My wife watched it last week and she's a huge fan, right? I'm not a huge fan of AI, especially after the crap (read: hilarious) is weeded out. But she loves this crap, so you know we have to watch it this week.

So we're watching, and there is definitely a lot of entertaining "crap" among the skilled and the corny stories. Out of nowhere, a familiar face with a familiar name appears in the form as a SYTYCD ( connect the dots). I couldn't believe it. And she did so well. I don't want to jinx her, but she looks like one of the more solid and well-rounded dancers on the show. It was just crazy seeing her on tv.

I can't front like she's a great friend or what not. At one point way back when, she was my younger sister's best friend and her older sister was in my class during elementary school. Oddly enough, their older sister was in the same class as my older sister and at one point THEY were best friends as well. Needless to say, we were over at their place often for parties or just after school to hang out, etc. But now our interaction is strictly online.

But none the less, congrats, Melody. It's been a while since I've spoken to you (sober), but if I don't get to speak to you soon, good luck.

Monday, July 18, 2005

I'm a sports guy.

I can admit it.

I enjoy all sports.


Sure, even NASCAR.

Most people wouldn't consider NASCAR a sport.

I do.

That shit is hard.

Others call NASCAR and racecar driving a skill, not an athletic ability.

I disagree.

By the way, "racecar" backwards is "racecar".

And Jason Williams of the Memphis Grizzlies has "WHIT" tattooed on the knuckles of his right hand.

The left hand?


That's right.

Put his hands together and that shit says "WHITEBOY".

But I'm digressing.




No doubt in my mind.

I know.

It really isn't "athletic" per se.

Does it take strength?


Does it take endurance?


Does it take the use of gross and fine motor skills?


So yeah, sport.

And Tiger Woods did it again yesterday.

Hey steady kicked all kinds of ass at the British Open.

And as a sports fan, it was sure something to witness.

I'm not the hugest golf fan.

But I pay attention.

I pay enough attention to know what kind of golf player Tiger is.

And what he accomplished on Sunday was nothing short of amazing.

As kids, we'd hear stories about athletes that have come and gone.

Not just the good ones.

The GREAT ones.

Tiger is definitely of those athletes.

As fans, we get so used to the greats and only truly appreciate them when they're gone.

Michael Jordan's era has come and gone.

We saw it.

With our own eyes.

But we really weren't aware of what we were witnessing until he was gone.

Ken Griffey and Barry Bonds in their prime?

Forget about it.

Those days are gone.

The only "sure thing" out there now is Tiger.

Critics were claiming that he was in a slump.

They said he was distracted by marriage.

They said that he would never achieve the success he had earlier in his career.

Fuck that.

He's on top.

And he'll be on top for a while.

So make sure you stop to smell the roses.

Absorb it.

Take it in.

And just enjoy it before he's gone.

People like to throw out titles like "The next Michael Jordan", or "The Next Griffey Jr."

Well, there will never be repeat performances.

There will never be another Tiger Woods.


Sunday, July 17, 2005

There was this kid back when I was in high school that I've known since elementary school. He was always "weird", and "different". In a school that was almost 40% Filipino, he was the Filipino kid that stood out for all the wrong reasons. He didn't hang out with any of the many Filipino cliques that had formed by then. He didn't dress like any of us either. He didn't act the way most of us did.

We were quick to throw labels at him, because that's what high schoolers are really good at. We called him "weird", "white-washed", and "outcast". At the time, our world revolved around stereotypes. Black people are like this and white people are like that. Filipinos had to fit the "Filipino-mold" or else you didn't fit in, weren't accepted, weren't "normal". He was a square peg in a world full of round holes.

Hew went to my church. I got to know him a little. He was genuinely a good guy, and he really didn't let the ridicule get to him, even though I could tell that deep down, he was just like any of us at that age, just searching for acceptance and normalcy in those rough years as a teen. We were never really friends, just friendly. It's kind of weird how things change outside the circus that is high school.

A few years back I heard that he was found dead behind the barracks at the military base where he was stationed. It's always rough to hear that someone you knew had died, no matter how little you knew the person. But this was a little different. I felt bad, not only because of the loss of his life, but because I never had the chance to let him know how much I respected him and what he did while were were in high school

Already over 4 years removed from high school at the time of his death, I had already come to the conclusion that high school was bullshit. I totally respected this man for going completely against was what considered "normal" at the time. Instead of being what everybody expected him to be, he was just himself. It was the exact opposite of what I was at the time.

I was a big man on campus. I prided myself on being popular, being one half of a high profile couple, and being the "loud, funny guy of the class". I dressed the part. I talked the part. I live my life hoping to please those around me. And for what? Acceptance? To be considered cool and hip? We all know know that high school superlatives don't mean shit in the real world (Well, most of us, at least). I was such a damn coward. It's embarassing just thinking about it.

I just can fathom how much balls it took to just be yourself in high school. And for that, I respect that guy. I respect that guy for being able to see through the bullshit. He knew back then what took me years to find out. He "got it". It wasnt' "non-conformity for the sake of non-conformity". He was just being himself. I'm just sorry I wasn't able to tell him how much I respected him for what he was able to do, regardless of the harassment and the ridicule.

Much respect, man. RIP.