at this moment, i am less than 100 away from 1 million page views. i am writing this not because i always knew i'd reach it but because of the disbelief that i ever would. ive said this many times before: i'm not a model, or a television star, or any celebrity that can make even the tiniest of headlines. the skills ive picked up that interest people in the slightest, arent all that far away from the next person who tries just as hard. why anyone would view my page as a result of me being just me behind my computer was already too surreal to make sense of. yet curiosity urged me on to see how far it would take me - it took me past a number of myspace friends that i used to think was what half-a-million was (50,000).

look, i dont want to allow myself the pleasant illusion that all 50,000 people on my friendlist care about me, or even remember that theyve even added me, or will even know who i am when they turn off their computer. it would be my wishful thinking to believe that there arent a few myspace pages on my friendlist leading me further from a single genuine human being and to some spam and porn site instead. and that pages aren't vacant when the myspace crowd has apparently "grown-up" and now facebook everything. yeah, im pretty sure that the updates i post to myspace arent even close to actually reaching the people behind the numbers. im pretty sure that to a lot of these 50,000 people, i am just that one number. i know that the closer i get to the next big number, the greater the frequency of comments from people who'll ask me "who the f#$% are you?". when you think about it, 50,000 doesnt make me that much more popular. so maybe 50,000 hasnt taken me anywhere close to 50,000? and can i accept that? yes i will.

but 1,000,000 page views is something to me. a number, that as a child, i once thought was an impossible number for anything like me to even be around.  it tells me that it took me 1,000,000 chances to reach just one of you.  within those 1,000,000 times, ive made friends, exchanged thoughts, faced the past, paced my future, seen people through and throughout, found goodness in many and tolerance in the opposite, while attempting to manifest dreams for (1) myself (2) for others (3) with the help of others. speaking with you as a girl who just decided to sign up for myspace one day, i guess i am just shocked that i actually got the chance in my life to be a millionaire in some weird way. one million of these processes between a handful of friends - works for me.  let me talk a little more about this process and you'll understand why it means so much to me:

************************************************ now there are three songs that i find myself always alluding to when thinking about my own life:

#1. Praise and Adore - Wavorly
#2. Giving It Away (B-sides) - Mae
#3. Say It to Me Now - Glen Hansard

so lets go with song #3 below...


ive been in love w/ #3 for a few years now and even more in love with the fact that his guitar looks like that because he sings...well...like that. fearless and vulnerable. 

if you havent had the chance yet, check out one of my favorite movies: ONCE. it features song #3. the movie is not blockbustery. nor is the plot twisty and turny. but trust me, you'd understand it if you simply relate to being caught up in a moment of profound understanding with another person. this process builds a bubble around the two of you that guides both souls in one single and pure direction for a period of time. sharing ideas. making mistakes. trying it anyway. wondering what you were thinking. being one with everything it is doing to the both of you. fascinated with who the other reveals themselves as...with who you are not but they are...what you then make sense of together. again, i use the words: vulnerable and fearless. because the bubble, even if it is fragile, is really pretty fearless to even attempt to make it gently to the ground knowing what it inevitably knows - that it bursts. and is it really a bad thing? we should be amazed that a process so enveloping would ever happen to us. would let two people happen if even for seconds that are few.  that this bubble would only end once it has become the best it could possibly be with what it was given.  we are confronted with a chain of best possible moments in every opportunity that we connect with another person on here. it is this process between two people who find in each other a kind of amplifier to their moment of clairity that is the most beautiful thing to me.


p.s. if you want me to shut up after 140 characters or less then come meet me on twitter haha.

i've been missing someone a lot these last couple of days. so i felt like picking up my guitar and putting this feeling into something that could carry all this emotion for me. otherwise, with no place for it to go but it bouncing mercilessly within the walls of my head...i'd feel lost and disconnected. so i just wrote and wrote what i felt, whether or not it made perfect sense or turned out like a bunch of unanswered questions. i thought about what he would tell me from some other place. but being as i've never been dead before, what i assumed he might say became less on promises and more about holding my hand through a life of my not knowing how to see him.  and i wondered if maybe, he would miss me as much there as i miss him here.  that even if he could be around me, that our arms would be something we desperately wished we both could use?  and does this distance affect heaven somehow? 


claire_e - remember me

..

fact:  more than 90% of the people to memory who were involved in my life and have passed on, battled it out with cancer before they left this earth.

for the past few weeks, i've been waiting on the possibility that my grandpa could be one of them.  about an hour ago i just got news that he does have it and it has spread.  and how do i feel about it?  im only 27 but i've been around it enough to expect that cancer is this natural exit of life.  i dont want it to be.  and the human in me doesn't know where to place this feeling of someone fading even if maybe i should know what to do with it by now.  cancer is ugly because we have no choice but to watch it work on people whose moment of presence we would give our breath for.  we come into this world learning to love that person.  learning to believe in their strength.  learning to trust in that love and belief.  letting them be a proof of everything we know about loving someone.  even when the time comes that proof is left to faith, we worry about how to hold on to proof of their life - in the scent of something or in the memory of their favorite song.  what lingers is what is lost and us not knowing where to find the one we are losing is maybe the reason why being an expert of finality on earth can't be found.  

i once read that it is important to think about death.  i think it is important because of its certainty.  it is important because it affects how we choose to live.  i used to be so afraid of it.  there would be nites i'd try to imagine myself not existing and it freaked me out.  not anymore.  and its not a callus i've developed.  its an understanding.  an understanding i can't possibly describe to you because i believe every person must come to this on their own.  doesn't mean that i like death - what i hate about it is the distance it causes between two people.  despite all my thinking, it is dealing with this distance that is more an acceptance than an understanding.  more patience than finding an answer.

but something about loving someone with any type of illness that will be with me through this experience again - although it persists in attacking someone who was once strong in our eyes - you really don't stand in awe at the capacity of their strength until you witness them living with it.  there lies a will to try and make you worry less about them that surpasses what we once believed was strong.  and that belongs somewhere much greater than anything that body can hold or the body would've held onto it.  we know of this because we've felt it from the people who have fought for their life like that - we never forget.  and it becomes our strength.  it lingers like what is lost.

i just got back from my visit to southern california.  everytime i'm down there i think about relocating.  and then i get in the car and that changes my mind.  saturday evening, i was one of the ridiculous amount of people waiting in line to ride nemo for the first time.  something to remember before i continue on with this blog:  i did not tough-out the nemo line for reason of loving the movie....i've only ever seen part of it - my sharp recollection of disney movies ended with aladin.  i would say the lion king but on the way to so cal i referred to simba's dad as mustafa - everyone's laughter told me i was wrong.  so here i am in line for this thing and when i get inside the submarine i am greeted by the smell of funk.  that ride by far has to be the stinkiest ride in disneyland.  hatch closes and i peer into my little window to let disney impress me.  by the end of the ride, i looked disappointed...

"what's wrong?"
"i could hear nemo's voice but i couldn't see him at all."
"what are you talking about?!  he was there.  that orange fish."

and then i thought about it for a while and realized i was looking for this guy:



when asked why i didn't say something sooner,  i said, "i thought the point of the ride was to find him."

You know, outlook is a very powerful thing.  I was reminded of this earlier today by the most unexpected combination.  I was doing this exercise (I don't know what you call it but it's the one that has you leaning your back to the wall while your legs are bent like youre sitting on an invisible chair).  I had to hold this position for a while and it starts to feel really painful.  When I usually do this exercise it makes a second feel like forever, so I don't particularly look forward to doing it.  So here I am, dreading it with every fiber of my non-existent muscles, feeling my own weight burn against my limbs.  All of a sudden I see my dog, without a care in the world, walk by my foot.  And selfishly, he jumps on my lap while I sit in this invisible chair.  I started to laugh because my dog just added 8 pounds to this exercise.  And then something weird happens.  My lap with him on it, felt lighter than when I was without him.

i feel dumb mourning over a cat since people say, "its just a cat" - but that piece of me that believes it doesn't make me feel less torn up about it.  my cat, who i picked out and fittingly named angel - despite her being a stray born in a rutty leftover cardboard box and was what my parents thought was the most unattractive kitten of the bunch with the ugliest shade of gray because of its slight tinge of orange - passed away this afternoon.  i don't know why i picked her at the time to wear such a pristine name.  but it turns out that she was the best choice by far.  when every other cat to memory had run away...she stuck around for 18 years even when she had the freedom to leave us whenever she wanted.  i've owned cats, dogs, lizards, fish, hamsters, turtles.  i absolutely LOVE dogs.  so when one of my dogs died a few years ago, i was definitely sad then.  but something about my cat, who i paid less attention to, that makes me feel more attached and torn away from.  because dogs, you know they need you.  you sense the dependency and are comforted by it.  but cats, they carry themselves like they don't need anybody.  so where as you choose the dog, the cat chooses you.  everyday she's left to wander makes you thankful she comes home.  and you are honored that another being would.  she chose me even when i wasn't exactly the best owner.

you may have heard me say before that i envy pets' hearts.  i envy hers to an insane degree.  have you ever had someone stare back at you with such love and trust in their eyes and it reminds you of just how ugly a person you are to be at the receiving end of one who thinks you're deserving of their attention?  as she got older, i spent less time around her.  it wasn't disinterest.  i was just too weak of character to love her anymore than what was comfortable for me.  because i remember the kitten who used to chase the string i dragged along the carpet.  then gradually she turned into the cat who you would have to lay the string on top of her paws so she would at least swat at it.  eventually, she didn't swat at it even though her pupils huge and excited just to be looking at it.  the older she got, the more i was afraid of the invevitable fact of losing her.  these last few years,  i couldn't touch her more than a few seconds because life felt so fragile when i did.  i felt like my weak hands could break her from me.  the times i'd pet her briefly and rarely...and the moment she started to purr, i wanted to stop.  how could she appreciate me like that?  how could she purr from a simple pat on her head like it was equal to an entire night of having her sleep on my lap?  her purr...i didn't deserve it as easily as she allowed me to hear how much she loved me.

the garage is now just a garage.  and i realize that this is what i took for granted.  for the past 18 years, that light would go on and we could be searching for the most mundane thing inside the garage and still she'd wake up from her nap to utter a single delicate "meow".  for the past 18 years, the garage door would open and she'd utter the same hello before we'd leave for elementary school, prom, my drivers test, college, a life of my own.  the fact that tomorrow morning will be the first time in what feels like my entire life that i will not hear that meow makes me cry.  for someone (not something...she isn't a thing) to notice me in the garage of all places...i took this for granted.  and this is what hurts me the most.  because i realize how much not hearing it tomorrow compares to every single day that i took it as no more than a "hello".  i began missing it the moment i saw her take her last breath without a sound uttered.

you know i always have to tie this situation to something bigger...so here it goes.  pick one person on this earth (friend, lover, family...doesn't matter) and agree to love this one person unconditionally for as long as you breathe...and follow through no matter how unbelieveablely ungrateful they become or no matter how much they do something you would never do.  it sounds simple...like we do it all the time, right?  but when i think of the degree to which my cat loved me...its not so simple...and i have to rethink everything.  let's try, okay :)

p.s.  thank you for your emails.  you guys always amaze me with your hearts.

do you ever wonder about what you were doing and who you appear to be in the memories other people have of you? i am thinking about this guy i see every once in a while during bright sunny days.  he lingers on the sidewalk by the same stoplight in one of the busiest streets of the city where i live.  dressed like a runner he sweats like one as he holds a sign pointing to some nearby store.  this sign bounces and his teeth radiates from this bobbling head as he sings with the white cords that hang from his ears.  and i think to myself...no...i know...that he is someone i will remember my entire life even if i will never know why he is always so happy to be holding that heavy sign under the hot afternoon sun.  because i am in awe at the simplicity of his joy.  because i am in awe at how easy it is for him to make me smile even when i have no clue who this stranger actually is and he has know clue that i have him memorized.....

....this internet thing is so vast and I have a vague nearly non-existent idea of everyone im reaching with this myspace page.  but im not some naïve girl that just posts stuff about herself on here without the worry that i may be sharing too much of myself.  i worry.  ive had certain life experiences that give me a good reason to be afraid to do that...trust me.  yet here's the thing.  i aspire to be that guy i see in the street on bright sunny days.  a person who people i may never know can pass by and see someone who doesn't treat a moment like an entire life that's veiled in the scary stuff, even when in all honesty it is.  ive always believed our individual role as part of the human race is to be a chameleon.  not so much in its simplicity to blend, but rather its tenacity towards its purpose.  that is, to take the best of its environment so that it becomes a part of something bigger and more beautifully distracting than the intentions of a single threat.....

..
.."Well relationships change,....
Oh I think it's kinda strange,....
How money makes a man grow.....
Some people they claim,....
If you get enough fame,....
You live over the rainbow.....
Over the rainbow......

....But the people on the street,....
Out on buses or on feet,....
We all got the same blood flow.....
Oh, in society,....
Every dollar got a deed,....
We all need a place so we can go,....
And feel over the rainbow"....

....
- Amos Lee, Keep It Loose Keep It Tight

p.s.  i highly suggest you download that song.  its a good song to enlighten perspective especially when it pops up unexpectedly while youre listening to your ipod.

here's something i will never know the answer to. i left my parents house really late at night.  i have habit of leaving the door open only as long as im walking through it because i dont want to let creatures of the night take up residence uninvited.  as i was about to close the door, this fist-sized, branch-looking, flying bug comes surging into the house.  startled, i close the door behind me and trap it in the house.  the guilt of leaving such a scary looking bug to surprise my parents the next morning eats at me and i re-enter the house.  as "luck" would have it, this mosquito-eater, flying so fast and frantic, got itself clumsily tangled up in a spider's web at the highest peak of the house's ceiling.  trying to twist out of it, not knowing that the very motion seems to be wrapping it more in the stuff it was trying hard be rid of.  and i laugh at how stupid it is.  i left the house loving the spider a little more than i ever did - for saving me from a snow white moment with that thing that's like a spider but with wings.  last thing i ever want to happen is have that monster land on my shoulder while im sweeping the floor.....

.. ..the next weekend, i went back to my hometown, back to my family, back to my dogs and cat.  i totally forgot about my run-in with the mosquito-eater.  what a shame to be forgotten that quickly.  but i didnt care because as far as i knew, he was no longer of this earth.  little did i know that that bug would MAKE ME care.  i turned on the bathroom light and sleepily extended my arm towards one of many toothbrushes.  in an effort to pick mine out from the bunch, my vision cleared.  and the first thing that came to focus was that mosquito-eater on my toothbrush.  so whoever said life doesn't have a sense of humor, i gotta disagree.  because this bug couldve ended up lounging on any of the many objects inside this house.  instead, it chose my toothbrush.  and its not like it was positioned on the toothbrush like it just so happened to be there.  not at all.  it looked so intentional.  you know that game that we used to play as kids where we came across a floor of checkered tiles and we try to only step on the black ones because the white ones would mean you stepped on fire?  yeah, it was exactly like that in the case of the mosquito-eater except my toothbrush was the only black tile.  not even the toothbrush next to it had the characteristic of being partly black...or gray even.  not a single one of its six legs rested on a neighboring toothbrush.  all six of those suckers possessively hugged my toothbrush like it had its own teeth to brush.  me, wanting to slap the yoga out of it but way too scared to do anything about it because its legs looked much stronger than mine and brushing one's teeth every single morning is overrated anyway...while it found its perfect balance meditating its branch of a body and all six of its gunshow legs on the stem of my toothbrush.  ....

while examining the depth of a bottomless pond that local fisherman told stories about, henry david thoreau once wrote, "This is a remarkable depth for so small an area; yet not an inch of it can be spared by the imagination. What if all ponds were shallow? Would it not react on the minds of men? I am thankful that this pond was made deep and pure for a symbol. While men believe in the infinite some ponds will be thought to be bottomless."  it would be wonderful to look down at a pond and picture someone at the other end of the world looking down the same one, wondering the same thing.  like for example, maybe that bug wasn't stupid?  maybe it knew i laughed at it?  i think that some things are too vast for our comprehension for a good reason.  that good reason being that it always leaves us to question things.  to maybe take joy in the things that our imagination can bring out.  things we can hypothesize about but will never know the answer to.....

What defines a great man/woman? Is it the performer?  The thinker?  The observer?  The one that runs the fastest to the race's finish line?  The one that runs the fastest towards the line of fire?   The one that runs fastest because although he has plenty of his own, he is the only friend someone has?

i use "great" too much with too little meaning now-a-days.  Let it be known that for this entry, I'd like this word to have a lot more gravity than the usual.   A great man.  Is it someone that willingly puts themselves on display, to be made a living example of?  Or could it be that one person whose actions you quietly stumble upon while you're google surfing.  I mean, many days I hardly notice its potential because it is so intertwined in everyday.  But the second you type in something in that search bar, you may be setting yourself up to discover the person you never thought you had overlooked.   

I found my dad's name on google.  Which had a very high wth-factor because my dad won't even go near a computer.  He doesn't like the invisible dealings that now take place over the internet where every interaction and transaction and satisfaction is composed purely of 0's and 1s.  imagine, proof only in 0's and 1's.  it is kinda scary to think about how much of ourselves we invest in the 1 and the 0.  anyway, im straying.  The only person I would ever expect to have nothing come up on a google search is my dad.  But there he was.  And there I was totally perplexed. 

Earlier that morning, i woke up feeling all wrong.  like it was difficult for me to attach myself to the idea that today is a new day.  so I tried dancing it off around my apartment to whatever monstrosity was on the radio.  tried attaining clarity and peace with yoga.  tried writing my checks so I could take care of my bills a little earlier than necessary.  still, after all this, i felt like I was dragging around this emptiness in my mind.  So I thought id distract
myself with google. 

But not so fast.  You see, my family owned a ford van that was as old as I was.  Just as much as my dad hates the internet, he loved this van.  It was this huge link to the past - of a bunch of trips we trecked as a family.  I ate spam and rice in that van without suffering motion sickness.  Had pepsi shoot out my nose from laughing so hard at my cousin, phil – soda out the nose hurts by the way.  Rode from the bay area to vegas in the august heat despite the broken air conditioner with only my hand as a fan.  Lots of memories that in a way, my dad kept alive by trying to keep that van kickin.  And kickin it stayed for the longest time.  Even when it finally conked (it could still run on its own, but we were at its mercy as to when it chose to take us home), we kept that van in the driveway.  In the driveway, it even became an extra room for a while. 

One day, my dad says nonchalantly, "I dontated the van."  That was it.  "Donated".  That word, I immediately assumed it went to the salvation army or some really big non-profit organization that gets a lot of attention.  So I guess, because of that, it didn't really hit me too much in what it meant for the people who would now benefit from our van.  Salvation army is just so big a cause.  and the faces of those it could help are so vast that the attachment to something personal becomes more invisible and distant than one would like, to be able to honestly feel good about it…you know what I mean?

Which brings me to today.  On google I found my dad's name listed on an online newsletter.  He was being recognized for donating a 'kidney car'.  The van.  Cars donated to this cause would go to the Kidney Foundation of Northern California.  It was such a specific cause.  And it hit me as immediate as the tears that began to flow from my eyes.  Before she passed, Auntie Mona had been waiting and hoping to be well enough to be able to receive a kidney.  And this was his way.

..Months back, ..he could've said, "yeah, I donated it to the Kidney Foundation." And we would've immediately reacted to his decision - that he is contributing some of the van's greatest memories to a cause that was significant to the situation of auntie mona.  But nope…he just said, "…donated."  And I would never had known this about him.  That he did something like this.  And he didn't need any one of us to remember the good that he did.

A girl, I found while channel-surfing, who is just old enough to spell 'fergilicious', was being interviewed and knew just what to say to make me understand myself better.  She said, "sometimes you keep trying to fill that hole.  But the more you try to fill it, you don't feel it getting filled.  Maybe its not a hole..."  She motions with her hands the shape of a hump and finishes her thought by saying, " …maybe its something that you are keeping inside and just have to let it out."....

Doesn't matter how.  Only matters that you do.  And the fact that my dad did this minus the attention of anyone who knows him so well…something about that…something about the fact that it wasn't as outward as I usually am, or anyone else I usually know for that matter….something about that affects my soul with more permanence than any lesson a teacher could teach.

A silent diligence…like a king without a crown…perhaps the strongest influence between the world and compassion.  That, to me, is greatness.  So my message to you, dear reader, is when you too feel empty as i did today, be the observer once in a while and just watch first.  people are doing great things all the time even at times we don't feel designed to be made aware of it.  rather than let goodness end with sense of thankfulness...pay it forward :)  i believe that behind every person lies potential for a great intention...let this invisible hand inspire you to follow in example…without an audience.

i wish i was just as witty in real-time conversation because that would be awesome.  i could envision myself at a dinner party saying something really amusing off the top of my head and getting the whole table to roar with refined laughter.  but, ive never been to a real dinner party.  where people dress up in their most sophisticated attire.  lounge on an ottoman whilst slowly swirling the wine (thanks crystal for the correction) in the glasses that rest on their palms.  where people gather amongst food and good music while making small talk about the secret to their life's successes.  where it appears the whole purpose of the party is for people to eat together on a table at the same time without looking like they're starving.

i have never really been the type of girl who is into the finer things in life.  i just dont find inspiration in attaining such a standard as much as i do observing humble characteristics in individuals who are making things happen for themselves.  and this lack of practice in this area of the world's finest, shows itself in obvious ways.

"i've never been to a real dinner party."  that is, until a few weeks ago.  my first one ever.  door opens.  i enter the house to find people wearing black slacks and button-up tops - dare they show any part of their skin.  all you see are clothes and floating smiling heads.  here i am with my ugg boots, cords and a white shirt - like the ones they sell in plentiful yet affordable packs in the guys underware section of target.  i decide to hang with the kids and surround myself with non-judgemental babies to ease the appearance of my awkward wardrobe.  watching one of them stack and unstack the same blocks over and over again as i show how enthusiastic i am that she made a tower...yet again.

"dinners ready, everyone gather around the table."  i made it to the table fine without tripping on myself.  when i sit down, i cling to the safety of the chair.  good job.  that is, until i look around me and notice that everyone is standing by their chairs but no one is seated.  like they are waiting for something.  i, unsurprisingly, do not know what it is.  quick, how do i make myself look like i did this on purpose?  thinking.  thinking.  i got nothing.  i have to stay seated or it'll be more obvious that i don't know what i'm doing.  i am a sore thumb.  the way i dashed for the table.  the way i sat down eagerly awaiting the full course meal...or should i say something more fitting to my actions: awaiting the grub.  all that was missing was the napkin tucked under my collar and my fork and spoon standing upright in my hands as i lick my chops.  food comes out and then everyone takes queue to sit down.  

i don't usually eat on a dinner table.  i grew up learning that anywhere that doesnt already have someone taking up space is a great eating spot.  i usually have a plate on my lap.  so i was very much clueless as to how i was gonna pull off hiding the fact that i'd prefer my lap to something that just gets in the way of my lap.  

i thought to myself...i dont know the ettiquete because i've never eaten dinner with this many people around a table before.   thus, the first thing out of my mouth in an attempt to make conversation was that exactly.  and i said this, "im nervous.  i dont know the ettiquette because ive never eaten dinner on a table before."  someone turns to me with such pity in her eyes, "this is your first time eating on a table hun?"  noooooooooooooo...whyyyyy is my mouth so disobedient?!?!  that totally came out wrong and not what it sounded like in my head.  i half-expected someone to pull me aside to teach me how to use a spoon to bring the food to my mouth.  *waves so long to my vision of refined laughter*  luckily things weren't so bad as time continued.  as conversations arose, i was able to give my two-cents on two-things i knew very little about:  real-estate and child-rearing.

after dinner, one of the guest's kids came up to me.  "hi, im alexis," she says, "where did you get your necklace?  i really like it."  she continues, "i have pants just like those."  then she gives me a hug like she's made a new best friend, and walks away.  point taken.  ah...kids...gotta love their honesty. 

---

here an an embarassing story emailed to me by DARIUS 2010 that got me laughing so hard:

I have a couple stories similar to that. Like visitng a friend's church (after not being in church for about 8 years) and not knowing ANY of the songs. We we seated in the VERY front and when everyone else stood, I thought, "I'll just sit here before I make an ass of myself". Then everyone was looking at me with that "How DARE you disrespect the church by sitting" look! So I stood up as soon as I realized it was too late NOT to make an ass of myself. Then when everyone sat down, I was SO FOCUSSED on standing that now I was STANDING BY MYSELF looking straight ahead in the VERY front of the church. The day couldnt end fast enough!

man, what is with this 'under the sea' type preoccupation i've been having lately?  everything i've shared recently with you, has to do with some sebastian-like business.  brb...laundry is finished. ***  im back.  guys, just to let you know, those balls that you put in the dryer that they're selling on tv...that's supposed to take the place of fabric softener as a chemical-free, environmentally safe alternative...DOES NOT WORK.  i just tried it with this load of laundry and the clothes are all crunchy-sounding.  i'm for saving the world and all, but i can't walk around sounding like i have bags of potato chips in my pockets. who would take me seriously?  wouldn't be able to walk around without making someone thirsty.

i guess this nature mode comes from the fact that i've been made more aware of it lately.  the stop-and-smell-the-roses mood i'm in is in large part due to the nice weather, to the sudden globalwide concern to show love for the earth...all that stuff...all very nature inspiring.  but nature versus man has always been a clashing relationship.  i'm referring to the humor that accompanies someone trying to be one with nature.  i wish i could say if put in that situation, that i can rough-it in the woods.  but if someone were to just all of a sudden, pick me up from under my seat and drop me off in the wildest of jungles, i think id be horrible at it.  id be eating the wrong berries, petting the wrong animals. 

one such example of this clash.  i see this couple, both with a kayak of their very own (very nice ones), kayaking down the river.  when they paddle, they look oh so serious about their craft.  like experts of all things stream-like.  like they are one with it and it is one with them.  just beautiful.  as i sit there on the shore, i could mistake them for being devoted outdoor lovers.  so anyway, this part of the stream where i'm sitting...the current kinda slows down because there's a lot of plantlife that have chosen to take up residency in this particular area.  the couple, approaching the plantlife, break their stride and are forced to slow down and enjoy the view.  the guy turns his head to the left, looks down at the water and says..."eeeewwww".  then, lifts his paddle like his paddle just dipped itself into the nastiest crap in the world.  and then these two outdoor lovers look at each other like they just had some reality check ("omg...this is nature") and continue on...confused...down the river.  it was very funny sitting by and seeing this unfold in front of me.  if i were mother nature, i think "ewwwww" would have to be one of those words that i would dread hearing the most.  yup, right up there with "just use those leaves over there".

my favorite word of the day:  oyster shucking.  okay, that's two words.  i keep saying it under my breath this evening, because i like how it sounds when i say it...lol.  it entertains me.

i just watched an episode of 'dirty jobs' on the discovery channel.  this woman has been...im gonna say it...oyster shucking (whooo hoo!)...for 18 years.  i was fascinated with how quickly she could eye an oyster's opening and split the shells in two.  "sometimes you have to get angry at it" she says.  believe it or not, there is a right way and wrong way to open an oyster.  by wrong, i don't mean the obvious...like holding a knife with both hands, and in a slash-like motion, stabbing the shell so it spins as you chase it around the table.  the oyster has a side that sleeps, as she put it, and that's the side that faces you...or was it the side that doesn't?  man, i've failed her.  anyway, it was interesting.

oysters.  nasty little things when you look at them, but i love eating it.  its common practice for filipinos to have a cooler filled with oysters, right next to the grill at a big gathering.  a bunch of uncles and who i like to call the 'hardcore aunties' gather around the grill...waiting for their oyster to bake.  when everyone's shucking oysters like crazy and popping them in their mouths, its an awesome sight.

not to say that i'm a toughie because i can eat the stuff.  for one, i can't eat it raw because i am not a fan of mucus.  for two, i have to eat it whole...i can't nibble on it and check out its insides, before sticking it in my mouth again for a second bite because it'll gross me out.

when i was a kid, i used to chew on my oyster slowly because i hoped i'd get lucky and find a pearl.  never happened.  must be why i dislike jewelry as much as i do.  i started to think that whole pearl in an oyster thing was a myth or something.  although, fake jewelry is fine by me.  i don't get the whole 'real jewelry' craze.  i really don't.  as long as my neck doesn't turn green, or develop some heinous rash, its as good as genuine to me.  seriously...a ring weaved from straw would be the most beautiful piece of jewelry i'd ever own if it had a great memory to go with it.

i remember looking down at that fish thinking it was going to be the unluckiest fish in the world for two inescapable reasons 1)  because its need for breakfast crossed paths with our full-day boat rental and 2) because it was a catfish (click here to read a discussion on the 'right' way to kill one).  all it took for me was one time to see the wacking done to decide i'd never want to see it done again. 

all i want is to catch just one fish.  it is the humble declaration of every eager fisherman to be satisfied with that one fish.  but do we ever look at that one fish, say "this is my one fish", and thankfully retire our poles?  flashback to the movie 'babe'...where the farmer says with a sense of finality...'good pig'.  not a chance.  we work that pig to the bone.  that stick is going right back in the water for more.  our catfish would have to wait for more of his kind.

i don't like how mr.catfish remains so full of life until late afternoon because it makes me realize just how alive that creature is and just how dead it is going to be.  not of my hands of course...though i set the hook...so ill admit to it being partly of my hands...and that sucks.  and because i do not settle for things at face value, and because we are on the boat doing nothing, i ponder on the meaning of all this, which we call life...in terms of this fish.  "there is fate.  and then there is luck.  did this fish run out of luck or did it follow its fate?"  what a miserable place to be, either way.  and the moment of attempted revelation sent me nowhere closer to understanding why this fish was so unlucky to have been born a fish when the fisherman in us found ourselves so lucky to have it in our possession.  i think how everytime we move the boat to a new location, he remains to be the only fish hungry enough to get caught.  i feel sorry for his bad timing and wish there were someway to ease its fortune.  but its not enough to take action and set him free. i do entertain the thought that this would not be his last day in this lake.  glad it could not read my mind because id only be teasing it with my illusions of a second chance.  sun nearly setting, and we decide that "one more fish" isn't worth another minute of wishful thinking.  as quickly as our boat leaves behind yet another fishless hour, we hear a grinding sound that snaps our stringer in two.  more than half our stringer and the once unlucky catfish is no more.  

id like to believe that it escaped and that this unlucky fish just became the luckiest fish in the world.  to think that mr.catfish was this golden example of mercy, instead of the possiblilty that it had been grinded into chum by the motor boat blades for its brothers and sisters to mistakenly delight in.  but, i saw no blood splattering of any sort.  so i think its okay to assume that he is out there in the lake swimming around with a blue stringer threaded into its mouth and out of its gill.  perhaps that this stringer becomes this catfish's newfound sense of being.  so that the next person who catches it will see it and conclude this fish to be a very cunning one, instead of it having to carry the title of being the ONLY fish in august who fell for our bait...well, almost.

another personal fave from my old journal...(dedicated to my friend who may or may not have killed a spider a few nights ago while we were on AIM)

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Friday, June 25, 2004

Track 131:  Battle to the Death In the Span of One Sh"hour".

YESTERDAY.  I entered the bathroom and I look at the floor to find a fly, slowly moving along the tiles.  It's moving so slowly that I think that I can trap it under a cup.  So, I try.  It flies away, straight for the window.  All of a sudden, a daddy long legs spider chases it.  I draw the blinds and leave them to battle it out under their venetian-blind arena.

The moment I turn my head to the other side of the wall, I see not one, but TWO spiders now.  A much larger daddy-long-legs spider (whom I will call "Daddy"), and behind it, another spider resembling the THICK outline of that fly I sentenced to death (whom I will call "Chunk").  Now, I think to myself, just take my shower and get the hell out of there.

So, I turn on the water.  Paranoid, I turn around, because whenever I see spiders, I always feel like they are crawling on me...even if they're at the other end of the room.  So I look.  Though quite a distance from me, I have a good view of what happens next.  Chunk is creeping up on Daddy while Daddy stands stoic...Chunk is hungry. 

But Daddy is hungrier.  As soon as Chunk is within reach, WAP!!!  Daddy and Chunk begin fencing with their front legs.  Touche!  It was like Dhaslim versus Ehonda. 

This battle took quite a long time..and continues on halfway into my shower. 

In the end, Daddy walks away victorious, as he spins Chunk under him, wrapping him continuously with butt-string.   And Chunk, as he is being wrapped up, is still fighting through the webbed net...his legs flying wildly.  It takes almost 30 minutes for Daddy to finally step away, once assured his food would not escape.

He drinks the spider until it turns into a raisin. 

I turn off the water because I realize this saga made me completely lose track of time, turning my hands, as well, into raisins.

These are savage, SAVAGE creatures!

So...he had the best meal he's had in weeks, judging from the bloated abdomen he had the next day.

Too bad he didn't live long to enjoy it.  He passed away today from circumstances completely under my control.

i can't sleep.  i felt like reminscing tonight.  i came across some old entries (before i began writing here on myspace) that id love to share w/ you guys.  i'll post some old ones up from time-to-time.

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Sunday, September 28, 2003

Track 89:  See What Happens When I Don't Get Enough Sleep?

Why did I have to wait until 11pm last night to work on my speech that was gonna be the next day?

Luckily, our TA had car trouble and so our group presentation speeches were postponed.

Anyway, I decided to use this free time to meet a couple of my classmates who are also in the same section.  The conversation went something like this:

Me:  Hi, I'm Claire!  What's your name?

Girl:  mumbled name

Me:  Holly?

Girl:  Hong.

Me to another person:  Hi, My name's Claire.  What's yours?

Guy:  mumbled name

Me:  Holly?

Guy:  Ali.

Girl:  Why do you keep saying "Holly"?

Me:  I have no clue.