Staring out a bus window
At dreams unmanifested, falling
Asleep to the white noise of a lost hope and the
Roar of an engine pushing on towards loneliness, falling
In love with running away, tired feet and
Blistered heart heaving and panting, reaching
Out to empty hands and gasping for love.
She pulls her legs in closer and pushes her
Soul farther into depths that know no bound, that
Continue like a bottomless pit of despair
I see her face in the reflection, the most
Beautiful sadness enshrouded by a facade
Of pain. Tear-stained emotions sing solos to the
Bass line of aching and the high-hat of
Yearning, while callused fingers pluck the
Chords of sorrow. I blink; my ears hear
A phantom symphony, lost in the quiet wailing of a singular
Sadness.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Friday, October 17, 2008
Autumn Requiem
An amber melody plays
Tinting the air with somber notes
Of golden brown
A bitter sweetness envelops and a
Sugary humidity bathes the air
Seasons change, they say
People come and go, yet
I look and movement stops
And I see it is
Seasons that come and go
And people that change.
Tinting the air with somber notes
Of golden brown
A bitter sweetness envelops and a
Sugary humidity bathes the air
Seasons change, they say
People come and go, yet
I look and movement stops
And I see it is
Seasons that come and go
And people that change.
Quantum Solace
As I sit solemnly in the solace of my wandering mind
My thoughts meander their way to images of you
Holding me, holding you in an embrace so warm that
The very sensation sends shivers up my spine, as if
Time stood still and temperatures flipped, like
Without warning, global warming became irrelevant
And seasons became irreverent to the natural order of the universe.
But in this galaxy, tucked away in the crevices of my mind
I dream of times when I could see you, touch you
And like a fruit picked too quickly from the vine
I grow bitter
Because I realize in this lonely universe that the ethereal force
That continues to drive its celestial expansion is you
You are my stars, my moon, my sun
And it is in this quiet of space that I reach out to you
For there are times when meteors shower and
Asteroids crash land on the crust of the planet that is me
And I shout out to the stars, the moon, the sun
In hopes of one day, like Icarus, touching them, touching you
Gravity strikes and my mind falls back to reality
And I recall that these bodies of gas and light and heat
Mean nothing compared to the warmth that is you
And I return to my solace, building wings that I may soon
Touch the face of my universe.
My thoughts meander their way to images of you
Holding me, holding you in an embrace so warm that
The very sensation sends shivers up my spine, as if
Time stood still and temperatures flipped, like
Without warning, global warming became irrelevant
And seasons became irreverent to the natural order of the universe.
But in this galaxy, tucked away in the crevices of my mind
I dream of times when I could see you, touch you
And like a fruit picked too quickly from the vine
I grow bitter
Because I realize in this lonely universe that the ethereal force
That continues to drive its celestial expansion is you
You are my stars, my moon, my sun
And it is in this quiet of space that I reach out to you
For there are times when meteors shower and
Asteroids crash land on the crust of the planet that is me
And I shout out to the stars, the moon, the sun
In hopes of one day, like Icarus, touching them, touching you
Gravity strikes and my mind falls back to reality
And I recall that these bodies of gas and light and heat
Mean nothing compared to the warmth that is you
And I return to my solace, building wings that I may soon
Touch the face of my universe.
Friday, September 12, 2008
McCain Up in the Polls? We're Still Winning... [Originally Unpublished]
[Note: I wrote this a couple of weeks ago, when McCain pulled ahead of Obama in the national polls for the first time...]
Lately, a lot has been made about the McCain-Palin ticket suddenly surging forward and, for the first time, taking the lead in the national polls. Many of my fellow Obama supporters have reacted with great despair, losing hope in the momentum that Senators Obama and Biden have accumulated since the Democratic National Convention. Others have implored the Obama-Biden campaign to fight fire with fire and turn to the swiftboating that has come to define the political impetus with which the Republican party strikes. It is this negative thinking that Senator Obama has come to speak and work against, and what he and his supporters are looking to eliminate from the American political landscape. Each time we drop our heads in doubt, or turn our faces away from the fear that wells up inside of us, we dilute the message the Senator Obama has tried to carry to each and every American during this election season: hope.
I have listened and read many reactions to Senator Obama’s campaign. A majority of those who have come to support him say that he has been an inspiration, whether through his eloquence as an orator, his work as a community organizer, or his conviction as a politician. He has become for many people a symbol of changing times, when we can look around and upon our American brothers and sisters and not be afraid to ask for help or to offer it. He has inspired many who had been apathetic to rise up and stand for something, to look into the eyes of those who are suffering, feel their pain, and tell them that together we can rise above the struggle presented before us. He has united millions-- White, Black, Asian, Latino, Native American, gay, straight, Democrat, Republican, Independent--in the fight to change this country and the image that is projected to its citizens and to the rest of the world.
How can it look like we’re losing? Each time one of us, Democrat or Republican, turns to a poor man on the street and offers him food, we win. Each time someone volunteers at an overstaffed health clinic, we win. Each time someone raises his or her hand and fights for the change he or she believes in, we win. So regardless of who wins this election, we as a people can continue to win if we look to serve each other as brothers and sisters would.
Lately, a lot has been made about the McCain-Palin ticket suddenly surging forward and, for the first time, taking the lead in the national polls. Many of my fellow Obama supporters have reacted with great despair, losing hope in the momentum that Senators Obama and Biden have accumulated since the Democratic National Convention. Others have implored the Obama-Biden campaign to fight fire with fire and turn to the swiftboating that has come to define the political impetus with which the Republican party strikes. It is this negative thinking that Senator Obama has come to speak and work against, and what he and his supporters are looking to eliminate from the American political landscape. Each time we drop our heads in doubt, or turn our faces away from the fear that wells up inside of us, we dilute the message the Senator Obama has tried to carry to each and every American during this election season: hope.
I have listened and read many reactions to Senator Obama’s campaign. A majority of those who have come to support him say that he has been an inspiration, whether through his eloquence as an orator, his work as a community organizer, or his conviction as a politician. He has become for many people a symbol of changing times, when we can look around and upon our American brothers and sisters and not be afraid to ask for help or to offer it. He has inspired many who had been apathetic to rise up and stand for something, to look into the eyes of those who are suffering, feel their pain, and tell them that together we can rise above the struggle presented before us. He has united millions-- White, Black, Asian, Latino, Native American, gay, straight, Democrat, Republican, Independent--in the fight to change this country and the image that is projected to its citizens and to the rest of the world.
How can it look like we’re losing? Each time one of us, Democrat or Republican, turns to a poor man on the street and offers him food, we win. Each time someone volunteers at an overstaffed health clinic, we win. Each time someone raises his or her hand and fights for the change he or she believes in, we win. So regardless of who wins this election, we as a people can continue to win if we look to serve each other as brothers and sisters would.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
A Feeling of Uselessness > What Barack Obama Means to Me
After spending nearly the last ten weeks slaving away at office administrivia, business plans, and more useless office paperwork, I find myself unable to get motivated and actually accomplish anything. I told myself that after ABL was over that I would start exercising again, read a couple of books, take a couple of dance classes, and generally be downright awesome. Since my last day of work, I’ve read the first chapter of Barack Obama’s Dreams from my Father, six pages of Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s Autumn of the Patriarch, and leafed through David Bach’s Live Green, Get Rich. To my credit, I have read numerous magazines cover to cover, including gems like Time and Complex. What intellectual stimuli pass through my frontal lobes into the depths of my cerebellum! Or is it my cerebrum? Ah, a testament to my B- in Human Physiology last quarter. I’ve run a total of -2 miles (ask me how that’s possible), and I have yet to take any dance classes, let alone finalize choreography that I have to teach this coming Wednesday. Sounds like a party, right?
The only significant development that has arisen from the last seven days has been my increased participation in Barack Obama’s campaign. I recently informally joined a political action committee (PAC) called MoveOn for Barack Obama, which is dedicated to (as is implied by its title) electing Barack Obama as the next president of the United States. A couple of days ago, I put on a small gathering with a couple of close friends to watch Obama’s nomination acceptance speech at the Democratic National Convention in Denver. The fact that I went through the effort to put this thing together is huge, especially given that I was not (until the recent election) a huge fan of politics and was a skeptic of its ability to influence and create change. I took a chance and put on the party mainly because I was tired of what the Bush administration had been doing and because everyone and their mother had jumped on the Barack Obama bandwagon at Stanford and I wanted to take a sip of the cult Kool-Aid, granted that I did tout myself as a mildly-informed Obama supporter during the last school year.
As I prepared for the event, I found myself more and more drawn to the complexities and intricacies of Obama’s message of hope and change. Say what you will about his campaign being built solely on the strength of his rhetoric, but, as a former English major and a proponent of the power of writing and language, what he has to say is extremely gripping. I truly believe that, as an orator, you can only falsify your belief in what you are presenting to a certain extent; in order for a speech to be truly moving, you must believe with all your heart the value and power of each word you speak. I see that, I hear that, I feel that each time I watch Senator Obama speak.
My time in college has led me to believe that my future lies in creating positive change, and I feel a connection to Obama’s words. In my mind, they are a call to action to every citizen of this great country, asking them to look past their own selfish wants to take care of his or her American family, whether White, Black, Asian, Hispanic, Native American, etc. We should not, as noble residents of this nation, let the color of our skin divide us, but rather allow the colors of our flag unite us and allow us to see that beyond the surface, we are all the children of opportunity and the bearers of great responsibility to each other and to the world. More importantly, we must realize that, like Obama said, “...change does not come from Washington; it comes to Washington”. We, as a body of Americans, are ultimately chartered to take hold on the future lying before us. We, as mothers and fathers of the next generation of citizens, must shape the destiny of our children now by our actions.
I feel that this is Obama’s message, and I believe this is why so many young people have clung to him and have elevated him to “celebrity” status, as the GOP likes to call it. And so what if he’s the political equivalent of a rock star? I would rather have a president that young people can proudly look up to, rather than one that is mocked and loathed on late-night sketch television (although I acknowledge that if Obama is elected, he is going to make mistakes and get smacked around on Saturday Night Live every once in a while). His influence alone has inspired millions of young people to register and vote (at least 4 million new Democrats) and countless others, regardless of party, creed, or gender, to take up arms in the fight against injustice, prejudice, and inequality. Obama has become a symbol of hope in an unsure time, and although that alone is not reason enough to elect him, it’s good knowing that, if elected, he will continue to be that for so many people as President.
If you are one of the dedicated souls who has endeavored to read this far, I ask that you humor me once more and either begin or continue to follow the election, whether or not you can vote. Learn about what needs to be done to make this nation better. If you can vote, I do not ask you to do so for Barack Obama without reason, but rather that you chose whomever you feel will be able to lead this country to become the America you would like it to be for yourself and your red, white, and blue brothers and sisters.
Thanks for reading!
The only significant development that has arisen from the last seven days has been my increased participation in Barack Obama’s campaign. I recently informally joined a political action committee (PAC) called MoveOn for Barack Obama, which is dedicated to (as is implied by its title) electing Barack Obama as the next president of the United States. A couple of days ago, I put on a small gathering with a couple of close friends to watch Obama’s nomination acceptance speech at the Democratic National Convention in Denver. The fact that I went through the effort to put this thing together is huge, especially given that I was not (until the recent election) a huge fan of politics and was a skeptic of its ability to influence and create change. I took a chance and put on the party mainly because I was tired of what the Bush administration had been doing and because everyone and their mother had jumped on the Barack Obama bandwagon at Stanford and I wanted to take a sip of the cult Kool-Aid, granted that I did tout myself as a mildly-informed Obama supporter during the last school year.
As I prepared for the event, I found myself more and more drawn to the complexities and intricacies of Obama’s message of hope and change. Say what you will about his campaign being built solely on the strength of his rhetoric, but, as a former English major and a proponent of the power of writing and language, what he has to say is extremely gripping. I truly believe that, as an orator, you can only falsify your belief in what you are presenting to a certain extent; in order for a speech to be truly moving, you must believe with all your heart the value and power of each word you speak. I see that, I hear that, I feel that each time I watch Senator Obama speak.
My time in college has led me to believe that my future lies in creating positive change, and I feel a connection to Obama’s words. In my mind, they are a call to action to every citizen of this great country, asking them to look past their own selfish wants to take care of his or her American family, whether White, Black, Asian, Hispanic, Native American, etc. We should not, as noble residents of this nation, let the color of our skin divide us, but rather allow the colors of our flag unite us and allow us to see that beyond the surface, we are all the children of opportunity and the bearers of great responsibility to each other and to the world. More importantly, we must realize that, like Obama said, “...change does not come from Washington; it comes to Washington”. We, as a body of Americans, are ultimately chartered to take hold on the future lying before us. We, as mothers and fathers of the next generation of citizens, must shape the destiny of our children now by our actions.
I feel that this is Obama’s message, and I believe this is why so many young people have clung to him and have elevated him to “celebrity” status, as the GOP likes to call it. And so what if he’s the political equivalent of a rock star? I would rather have a president that young people can proudly look up to, rather than one that is mocked and loathed on late-night sketch television (although I acknowledge that if Obama is elected, he is going to make mistakes and get smacked around on Saturday Night Live every once in a while). His influence alone has inspired millions of young people to register and vote (at least 4 million new Democrats) and countless others, regardless of party, creed, or gender, to take up arms in the fight against injustice, prejudice, and inequality. Obama has become a symbol of hope in an unsure time, and although that alone is not reason enough to elect him, it’s good knowing that, if elected, he will continue to be that for so many people as President.
If you are one of the dedicated souls who has endeavored to read this far, I ask that you humor me once more and either begin or continue to follow the election, whether or not you can vote. Learn about what needs to be done to make this nation better. If you can vote, I do not ask you to do so for Barack Obama without reason, but rather that you chose whomever you feel will be able to lead this country to become the America you would like it to be for yourself and your red, white, and blue brothers and sisters.
Thanks for reading!
Friday, August 22, 2008
Reflections on Seven Weeks Well Spent
I walked into the classroom at Cal State Los Angeles with my mind made up. It’s a real shame that I’ll only be with these kids for two weeks, I thought to myself. They sat there, looking a little uncomfortable and a little unsure of what the next seven weeks would bring. Some were introducing themselves to the others sitting near them; others kept to themselves or played with their cell phones, texting their friends about how they were bored and wished they were somewhere else.
It went like I expected, with each of the site staff introducing themselves in front of everyone and Diego periodically pumping up the students with exclamations of “USC is number... ONE!” loud enough so that anyone as far away as Cambodia could hear. But as each student introduced him- or herself to the rest of the class, my reservations diminished. There was something different about this class; there was an energy, a fire that I had never experienced during the program (albeit it was only my second summer on staff). I felt a connection with each student after he or she gave an introduction, and I knew I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t leave. Not these kids, not this summer.
So the show went on and I waltzed into Mudd Hall with great reservations. These kids were nothing like my students at Cal State Fullerton; they were a little more volatile, a little more unpredictable, and a hell of a lot more rowdy. The next seven weeks, let me tell you, were HARD. I made a promise to myself that I would go to bed at 10:30 each night so I would wake up refreshed; that went down the drain as early as the third week. I told myself that I would leave USC every day at 3:30 so that I could get to office and return home on time; I think I left that early once. I even convinced myself that I couldn’t grow to love these kids as much as I did my students from last year; I couldn’t have been more wrong.
USC was a force this year. Each and every day, I would walk through the double doors of our classroom mentally and physically exhausted, but the energy that emanated from 68 loud, rambunctious students can sustain someone so much more than the Rockstars and White Chocolate Mochas I used to keep me wired throughout the summer. It was never difficult to remain inspired because there was always someone working harder than me. I would come into class at around 7:30 each morning completely tired after going to bed at midnight and I would hear how some students pulled all-nighters after going to work to finish their financials or marketing plans. Then they would commute from as far as the Valley to get to class on time. What did I have to complain about?
And it wasn’t even about the students’ work ethics... After weeks of yelling, screaming, and arguing, these kids really did become family. I would often stand in front of the class, lecturing about the importance of respect and commitment to each other, but I didn’t believe that a class of 68 students from different walks of life could come together the way they did this summer, like a beautiful mosaic. During USC’s business plan competition, they would cheer each other on and celebrate if another group did well; they fed off each other’s success. Each time these kids threw up a “Fight On!”, they would throw up an “I Love You” as well. When Oknel was chosen to represent us, there was a genuine joy in each student’s face, and when Oknel didn’t place, a genuine heartbrokenness pervaded over USC’s normally enthusiastic demeanor. The truth is, these kids really did love each other, in a way that I have never seen any class come together over the course of my time at ABL. When I say that they shared their joys, sorrows, laughters, and tears, I mean that very literally. The empathy that each student felt for his or her classmates was remarkable, and something that will continue inspiring me as I continue my life after ABL.
So to my 68 kids at USC, best of luck to all of you; I thank God that you were able to change my mind about leaving ABL. Like I have told many of you time and time again, the reason I was able to do the things I did this summer was because I had 68 reasons every morning to go out and do my best. I love you all and I pray that this summer will only be mark the beginnings of the wonderful relationships I will be having with all of you in the future. Thank you for changing my life. I love you all.
It went like I expected, with each of the site staff introducing themselves in front of everyone and Diego periodically pumping up the students with exclamations of “USC is number... ONE!” loud enough so that anyone as far away as Cambodia could hear. But as each student introduced him- or herself to the rest of the class, my reservations diminished. There was something different about this class; there was an energy, a fire that I had never experienced during the program (albeit it was only my second summer on staff). I felt a connection with each student after he or she gave an introduction, and I knew I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t leave. Not these kids, not this summer.
So the show went on and I waltzed into Mudd Hall with great reservations. These kids were nothing like my students at Cal State Fullerton; they were a little more volatile, a little more unpredictable, and a hell of a lot more rowdy. The next seven weeks, let me tell you, were HARD. I made a promise to myself that I would go to bed at 10:30 each night so I would wake up refreshed; that went down the drain as early as the third week. I told myself that I would leave USC every day at 3:30 so that I could get to office and return home on time; I think I left that early once. I even convinced myself that I couldn’t grow to love these kids as much as I did my students from last year; I couldn’t have been more wrong.
USC was a force this year. Each and every day, I would walk through the double doors of our classroom mentally and physically exhausted, but the energy that emanated from 68 loud, rambunctious students can sustain someone so much more than the Rockstars and White Chocolate Mochas I used to keep me wired throughout the summer. It was never difficult to remain inspired because there was always someone working harder than me. I would come into class at around 7:30 each morning completely tired after going to bed at midnight and I would hear how some students pulled all-nighters after going to work to finish their financials or marketing plans. Then they would commute from as far as the Valley to get to class on time. What did I have to complain about?
And it wasn’t even about the students’ work ethics... After weeks of yelling, screaming, and arguing, these kids really did become family. I would often stand in front of the class, lecturing about the importance of respect and commitment to each other, but I didn’t believe that a class of 68 students from different walks of life could come together the way they did this summer, like a beautiful mosaic. During USC’s business plan competition, they would cheer each other on and celebrate if another group did well; they fed off each other’s success. Each time these kids threw up a “Fight On!”, they would throw up an “I Love You” as well. When Oknel was chosen to represent us, there was a genuine joy in each student’s face, and when Oknel didn’t place, a genuine heartbrokenness pervaded over USC’s normally enthusiastic demeanor. The truth is, these kids really did love each other, in a way that I have never seen any class come together over the course of my time at ABL. When I say that they shared their joys, sorrows, laughters, and tears, I mean that very literally. The empathy that each student felt for his or her classmates was remarkable, and something that will continue inspiring me as I continue my life after ABL.
So to my 68 kids at USC, best of luck to all of you; I thank God that you were able to change my mind about leaving ABL. Like I have told many of you time and time again, the reason I was able to do the things I did this summer was because I had 68 reasons every morning to go out and do my best. I love you all and I pray that this summer will only be mark the beginnings of the wonderful relationships I will be having with all of you in the future. Thank you for changing my life. I love you all.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Burned Out?
I didn't really believe in the concept of "burning out"; I thought it was a cop-out for not having the motivation to follow through on your responsibilities. But I think, since I've taken on a wider breadth and greater depth of responsibility this year (in addition to a more intensive course load), I've lost motivation to push myself. Don't get me wrong; I consider myself extremely fortunate to be able to call Stanford home, especially given the immense opportunities I have been given through my attendance, but I think I need some time to re-prioritize and see what I want to be doing next year. I'm studying what I love, and I'm doing what I love; it's just that some of these things have lost their luster. Take dance, for example. I feel stuck. I'm not excited about dancing with DV8 anymore, and its affecting my love for the movement. I'm the type of person that only does something if provided with the correct motivation.
School is an interesting situation for me at this point. I've finally decided what I want to study (social entrepreneurship), but I'm not motivated in many of my classes. Of course, there is the beautiful weather and the fact that it's spring quarter to consider, but those aren't strong enough reasons to hinder me from pushing myself. The fact is, I've been doing this work-my-ass-off thing since high school and I just want to relax. A specific thought entered my mind today: I don't have any time to even read books for fun because I have so many commitments. That really upsets me because, if you know me at all, you know that reading has made me who I am. It's just a really frustrating situation to know that I'm at this amazing school, studying an emerging field, and that I'm not loving every second of it. Is a year off really what I want to do? I guess we'll see.
[P.S. I'll probably be using this space to do some really poor creative writing (e.g. short stories, poetry, maybe potential book chapters?), so BEWARE.]
School is an interesting situation for me at this point. I've finally decided what I want to study (social entrepreneurship), but I'm not motivated in many of my classes. Of course, there is the beautiful weather and the fact that it's spring quarter to consider, but those aren't strong enough reasons to hinder me from pushing myself. The fact is, I've been doing this work-my-ass-off thing since high school and I just want to relax. A specific thought entered my mind today: I don't have any time to even read books for fun because I have so many commitments. That really upsets me because, if you know me at all, you know that reading has made me who I am. It's just a really frustrating situation to know that I'm at this amazing school, studying an emerging field, and that I'm not loving every second of it. Is a year off really what I want to do? I guess we'll see.
[P.S. I'll probably be using this space to do some really poor creative writing (e.g. short stories, poetry, maybe potential book chapters?), so BEWARE.]
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