PBDC Day 27/31: Something I Made

Orange marmalade. Soy butter. Wheat bread. I took a picture of this not yet assembled sandwich this morning when I made it in case I didn't find anything better to take a picture of for the day.

And then this happened.

Duolingo, I know you're just using words I've already learned, but damn, this hit a major chord in a minor key. In the direct (and possibly most generally interpreted) manner, this sentence says that said soldier has no immediate family. Immediate family to mean nuclear family, parents and/or siblings. Or if they have their own family, a spouse, pets, and/or children. In that case, it's a heartfelt tug for the soldier who is "alone" with no one to write to, get letters from, or greet him/her at the airport or pier upon their return.

But once become a soldier, sailor, airman, reservist, member of the National Guard, Coastie, whatever you may call it, you are part of a family. Perhaps it becomes your second family. Your family away from home. Or even the only family you have. In any case, the soldier serves with brothers and sisters in arms, to protect the flag and everything the stars and bars represent.

And whether you believe in the military, the wars soldiers are sent to, or "stories" you may hear (but veterans and active duty can call experiences and simply "their life") are real things that they go through with, alongside, and in no way without their enlisted and commissioned family.

Just like "home" can be a feeling, "family" is as close, extended, expansive, and diverse as you make it.

That being said, Duolingo presented me with a gruesome pebble of a lie that snuck into my boot right before my division left the compartment to do drills on the grinder. It was that last pallet of supplies on the pier that left me with a splinter in the palm of my hand as I tossed it on top of the others before we untied and sailed off. It was that one local that had way more than any of us in the bar did that night that bumped into me and spilled the "one for the road" shot just before we piled into the duty van to head back to the boat that final night in port.

And so, I really didn't get to truly satisfy the prompt of the day until now. My writing a blog about the picture for Something I Made was somewhat of a prophecy or prediction. But now that I'm here at the end of this post, I can now present something I made.

PBDC Catch-Up: Days 14, 15, and 16

Day 16/31: Beautifully Ordinary

A bright moon. Open blinds. Shadows. Lamps in the parking lot. These are all common things that, individually, are often overlooked and taken for granted. Seeing the moon on a clear night isn't anything new to most folks. And the temporary stripes that are painted on my bathroom wall but the street lights and blinds aren't much of a surprise either. But for whatever reason, this specific composition aligns for a moment that smacks you in the face and makes you stop for a second.

I tweeted the other day that I realized why I enjoy writing these blog posts and taking these pictures.

After 37 consecutive daily blogs, I finally realized why I enjoy it. I'M CREATING ART EVERY DAY. #epiphany #art #writing #photoblogchallenge
— M. D. C-D (@MarlonCapaDele) March 10, 2014

Ironically, after Day 13, my streak of consecutive daily blogs ended at 41 posts. What interested me the most is that I didn't beat myself up after missing Day 14. Or Day 15. And just like that, I'm back today with Day 16's post.

"Beautifully Ordinary" is an interesting phrase. "Beautiful" comes to mind first, and when thinking of things that I would consider beautiful, "ordinary" is far from what I envision. "Ordinary" initially speaks to me as "boring," but then I realized that it didn't need to have a negative connotation. It can just as easily mean to be something common and simple.

Like my blog.

Just a collection of entries over the course of several years. And each post begins with the same simple start as any other.

I'm no celebrity, high-powered journalist, or internet icon, but just as easily as anyone else can, I can share my voice for all to hear. Subjecting it to a fate that I have no control over once I click on "Publish." And because of this shot in the dark into thin air, what starts as a simple thought in my head becomes a piece of art I hang on the walls of my online gallery. That is when it becomes beautifully ordinary.

And now for some catch up...

Day 14/31: Care

Not that you asked why I missed Days 14 and 15, but I did because hanging out with friends is much more fulfilling than continuing a streak of blogs that no one but myself asked for.

It's no secret, I want a dog. This past Friday I met a new canine companion, and like most dogs I've met, she wanted nothing else than to be scratched and petted. She didn't care who did, just that she was getting some love. Most dogs I've met in my adult life don't discriminate. They just love being loved. I think that's the primary reason I want a dog.

Just look how relaxed she is with two people she just met. Open to new friends that know how to speak her language. Sure, I may have ended up with some slobber on my shirt, but it was totally worth it. Having a furry friend snuggle up to you while you have dinner with friends was the cherry on top.

If only more people could care as openly as animals (not just dogs) can.

Day 15/31: Evening

For the first time in over a year my wife and I were privileged to have back to back nights of dinner with friends. It was the first time we had guests in our apartment, and we had our own kick back movie night.

I really do enjoy writing these blogs about my past adventures, insightful anecdotes, and commentary on current events, but hangout out with some cool folks is always a better choice.

As Spring begins to emerge and the temperature rises around these parts (there's still a bit of snow on the ground, albeit much less than recent weeks), I look forward to going for walks, baseball games, barbecues, and lazy days by the pool. As that happens, my evening blogging routine may become more sparse, but in that case, for good reason. If anything, hanging out with more folks means more hugs. And I love hugs, if you missed Day 11/31: Something Good.

PBDC Day 11/31: Something Good

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A friend of mine shared an image on his Facebook page that stated something to the effect of, "1 song has the power to reignite 1000 memories." So true. So very true.

While searching through different versions before going with the one used above, there were so many comments of attributing That 70s Show to their introduction to this song. Stuff like that makes me cringe, but I try to stay open. Television shows often make references to past events and memorable media, the most recent example coming from my wife, who, before a couple nights ago had never seen Dead Poets Society, but had heard about it in a reference in HIMYM, and from other instances when I had brought it up having seen it before.

Professor Keating has found his way back into the minds of a new generation of students thanks to this iPad commerical:

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Sidenote: Robin Williams is freaking amazing.

Music is wonderful. Movies are fantastic. But today's prompt doesn't ask for things that are wonderful or fantastic, it urges to look for something good. And when I got home from work today I knew what I wanted to capture.

It was a hug from my wife when I got home. Yes, she did know I was taking this picture when I did, and I gave her a full-on hug, focused on her aside from the one in the shot.

I love hugs. I always have as far back as I can remember. I want to say at one point in high school (or somewhere) I was voted (perhaps unofficially) as one of the Best Huggers. Being shorter than most of my friends and classmates throughout grade school, hugs were fantastic (but sometimes dangerous if the group hug gets a little out of control). They're simple, readily available, and one size fits all. But for myself, going back to little kid-sized Marlon, hugs from my much taller friends were great. I felt safe. I felt protected. Well, actually there's no reason to make that past tense. When it comes to a good hug, I feel safe. I feel protected. I feel cared for and loved.

It's a simple act that you can pretty much share with anyone who's open to it. It isn't overly aggressive, and it isn't linked to romantic exclusivity like a kiss or sex. Still, some aren't comfortable with hugs, and that's ok, but I am. I love hugs. Handshakes are professional. Hugs are friendly.

Have you hugged someone today? Why not?


Hugs are definitely something good.

PBDC Day 9/31: 10AM

Daylight Savings Time is just one of those things that a enough guys thought was a good idea. Similar to how being 18 means you're responsible enough to vote. Or the drinking age of 21. Or my favorite seemingly random bonus that gets unlocked at the age of 25--car insurance dropping. Now that one was awesome.

I get it, spring forward, fall back, let's squeeze more productivity out of daylight hours, and all that jazz. The only instance I really remember DST having an affect on my day was in the fall a few years back when I was still in the Navy. We were out at our regular bar and instead of closing at 2AM we set the clocks back an hour just like we're supposed to and the bar roared like it was New Year's Eve. Other than that, I really only hear about it by people complaining about "Oh, I lost an hour of sleep," or if someone's confused about "losing" or "gaining" an hour.

Whether you call it losing an hour of sleep or gaining an hour of sunlight, I got to take a little trip this morning when my wife took us to brunch to a place I'll never get tired of.

If you've lived in a state east of the Rockies there's a good chance you've played this wonderfully frustrating peg game at the table while you're waiting for your order that probably has grits, biscuits and gravy, fried apples, or fried okra, or all of the above.

If you don't know where I'm talking about, it's Cracker Barrel. Yup, that Cracker Barrel with the oversized checkers on the table by the rocking chairs outside and the Old Country Store inside with all the classic toys and treats you don't find in many other places.  The westernmost Cracker Barrel I've been to was in Utah, almost five years ago to the day now that I think about it. I was introduced to the down home goodness in South Carolina, and I was glad to see her again when I moved to Virginia. California isn't privy to these country delicacies, as it is one of eight states that isn't home to the national chain. And to complete the shunning of the west coast, there are none in Oregon or Washington either.

And boy was brunch awesome. I done stuffed myself with so much gravy-covered awesome that I took a nap when I got home.

This is my view at 1PM Eastern Time, and so that would make it 10AM back home in California. If I was back in the bay area right now I'd probably be with a pair of the coolest twins I've ever met, Mando and Mandy.

Alex, myself, Candy, and Mandy circa 2006

Banks, me, Mer, and Mando before the KCACTF closing in '09

Having lived in a few different states, calculating time zone differences has just been something I've learned to work around since I was seventeen in boot camp in Illinois (Central Time). Now living in Indiana (Eastern Time) state but staying in contact with family back in California (Pacific Time), thinking about time zones has happened a lot. I try to be conscientious when I text people because I know not everyone turns off their ringers when they go to sleep. (Note: I do, if you're looking for a captive audience in my voicemail when you're ragin in Vegas. I'll enjoy the hilarity the next morning.)

But anyway, it's Mando and Mandy's birthdays today and if I was in the bay, I'd be partying with them because if there's any crew that knows how to party, it's theirs. 

Happy Birthday, Mandy and Mando. Play some beer pong for me and pour some out for the Familia. Church! (Or as Meredith shared recently: Sooth!)

The Post Game Show: Photo and Blog a Day Challenge-February

Ahh, March. The shortest of months is behind us, Saint Patrick's Day is just over two weeks away, and I can now say that I have successfully completed my challenge. On the first of February, I shared this post, Day 1/28: Light, which also outlined my self-imposed Photo and Blog a Day Challenge.

Here are the four most popular posts from last month:

#4 Day 5: On My Nightstand

With such little furniture in my apartment, taking the literal approach to this post was not an option. What became was a testimony to how important friends are, no matter how far you are, how little touch you may keep in, and the affect they have your life forever. Miss you all


#3 Day 27: In Love With

The cheesy road would have deemed a post about my wife. At least, I thought it would be the cop out plan, so I challenged myself by taking a photo I've never taken anything similar to. (I was going to say "a photo I've never taken before," but every photo I shoot is one I've never shot before.) What I mean is that I've never shot a composition like the one I did for this prompt. I not only took a naked photo of myself, but posted it on the internet (with little fear of reprisal or censorship).


#2 Day 8: Frozen

Growing up in California, having this long winter (first snow was in mid-November, and we're supposed to get more this first weekend in March) has presented me with plenty of new writing fuel--snow. You don't get to see individual snowflakes very often, and so I captured it for the day's composition...and turned it into a discussion about creationism and evolution with a direct connection to the Bill Nye/Ken Ham "debate" (term used loosely).

#1 Day 9: Under

When I enlisted in the Navy nearly fifteen years ago, I had zero piercings or tattoos, had never drank alcohol, hated country music, and thought pick up trucks were ridiculous. In the course of a 26 month period I volunteered for fourteen tats from seven different states. And then the ink stopped flowing. Until February 9th, 2014. A new man, married, living in a new state, with a new love for writing, the needle would meet me skin again.

So what did I learn in the last month? Plenty of things.

I love telling stories.
I love sharing positive messages.
I love my friends, who are my family.
Writing every day is easier than I thought it to be. (I didn't even write every day during NaNoWriMo last November, but I still won.)
Taking pictures is fun.
The versatility of the mobile phone camera is amazing.
The art is not in the camera, it's in the composition.
The story is up to me.

And so, with a new month upon me, I plan to continue to the wonderful writing workout plan with a photo and blog a day. There were plenty of times last month that I wanted to write more than one blog a day, but my structure-loving side did not want the list of Photo and Blog a Day Challenge posts to have a rogue post among them. But March, oh March...you're gonna get slammed like a frat boy on St. Patty's Day.

In the words of Barney Stinson...Challenge Accepted!

Photo and Blog a Day Challenge-Day 17/28: On My Mind

Facebook, you never cease to amaze me. It's like  you know I'm doing this Photo and Blog a Day Challenge. Oh, wait. If you can tell when people are about to get in a relationship, and you share all my posts for me, you definitely do know.

 But do you really want to know what's on my mind? And even if you do, does everyone else? That's the interesting thing about social media, it allows us to stay "connected" but it simultaneously enables us to remain distant. Status posts let us know what's going on in our Facebook friends' lives without actually interacting with them. Twitter lets us toss 140 character post it notes on a perpetual conveyer belt for anyone to look at at any time. Instagram gives us the ability to share things we see, or want others to see. Blogs, like my own, gives writers a plot of land in the electronic fields to sow our own creative seeds.

And when is the last time someone asked you that question? The answer is, probably the last time you greeted someone. At work, at school, in a restaurant, it happens all the time. We just brush it off though.

A: How's it going?

B: Fine. You?

A: Good.

And we've moved on.

How about this situation? Have you pictured this? Because I have. Several times.

A: How's it going?

B: Sucks. I don't know what I'm doing. I like my classes, but I'm scared about what kind of job to even look for when I graduate. I'm kind of looking for jobs now, but I've been spending more time going out and trying to get drunk and laid to distract me from my frustration with my Philosophy teacher who is boring as hell.

A: (eyes wide, jaw-dropped)


B: And then my mom calls me to tell me I never call her, and that dad works all the time because he's trying to pay for my loans that are paying for the education that I don't know what I'm going to do with. Are you hungry? I really want pizza, but I'm too busy trying not to get fat.

A: OKAY STOP! I DIDN'T REALLY WANT TO KNOW.

So why do we ask? Why do you say what you say? Do you care how they're doing when you ask? Would you even know how to listen?

What's interesting is that people are probably more honest with their Facebook statuses than they are with people they see every day. Maybe you aren't. But maybe you spend more time talking to your bartender, co-worker, or sister more than you do your husband, mother, or manager. Are you speaking up for yourself? Do you listen to others when they need an ear?

I'm not throwing the first stone. But I will offer two ears (or eyes if you want to email/text/chat me) if you need it. That's what I think of whenever there is news of a suicide, or an quiet death alone (accidental or natural). Were they just so alone that they checked out? Did they ask for help, but no one answered because they thought they had it all already?

Asking for help is really difficult. Almost as difficult as saying "no." (Or vice versa, we're all different.) One thing I've noticed is that most people do ask for help-just not in the form of a question. Yes, there are signs. For everything. Positive and negative. But are you listening? Are you seeing?

That's what's on my mind, Facebook. And I'm about to answer your question by sharing this blog in my status. But I guess by the time you read this, I already have. I think I just caused a glitch in the matrix.

What's on your mind? What's in your wallet? (Don't sue me Capital One.)

Photo and Blog a Day Challenge-Day 7/28: Disorganized

Yesterday I spent a good portion of my day off going through boxes, bags, and piles of papers. Trashing old thing that I don't need anymore, sorting through others that I should keep on record. Day 6/28 was Pattern and I couldn't help but chuckle at the fact that that #7 on the list was Disorganized.

Now, there aren't any written rules saying you have to do them in order, so I could very well have taken a picture of the papers on the floor and done #7 on Day 6. But then the structure junkie part of me would have a fit, and well, that's a conversation for the therapist I didn't need past the consultation.

So here we are, Day 7 of 28, following prompt #7: Disorganized. And so, dear social media friends, I present to you, my raw photo:

See me on Instagram

And a couple others I took out there

And then I realized I could just take a panoramic shot

So yes, disorganized.

It looks so calm and serene out there. Flat, like a single sheet placed over the ground. That's where the trick is.

In contrast to yesterday's post of a pattern, this is a beautiful example of mass chaos...on a level that most would not see as such.

Take New Year's Eve in Times Square, or a victory parade for the Stanley Cup, Super Bowl, or BCS Bowl Game victory, or even The Hunger Games. You can look at photos and see hundreds of thousands of screaming fans packed in there with each other, basking in fandom glory to behold their victors. That is definitely an example of disorganized. Maybe not completely, but there is a major aspect of chaos in there.

Now take out your magnifying glass from the front left pocket of your safari vest and check out the snow pictures.

Hundreds of thousands, millions, dare I say billions of little snowflakes packed in there like screaming fans at the Olympics freezing their furry hats off.

But when you're on the second floor of an apartment building, it looks peaceful.

In the Instagram post of the first picture you can see reflections of the windows on the snow. In one of the additional photos you can see tiny, teaspoon-sized piles of snow on top of the sheet.

The OCD part of my brain curses the single tree in two of those photos for breaking up the unity of the snow blanket, but then I appreciated it's presence to serve as a point of reference instead of just presenting an all-white photo.

I've found the snow to be a creative partner in my acknowledgement of it. With a couple of YouTube videos and earlier blogs Snowmance and Diving into snow, the snow has prodded my creative herd a bit this winter.

But for today, the thought of disorganization masked by an appearance of serenity, elicits a confession of sorts. For myself mostly, but I'm sure for many of us. As the snow behind my apartment sits in a fairly uniform plane, it appears to calm, serene, and peaceful. Thinking that the violent winds have shifted the randomly constructed piles of snow from earlier snowfall, the state of the snow now is just a result of forces it has no choice but to react to.

As a child, from elementary school to high school, there was a major transformation in junior high. I actually used to be really quiet. Dreadfully shy actually. If it was a matter of answering a factual question, doing math, or regurgitation of knowledge from an earlier lesson, I was there. But socially, there was little to no footing.

Through a club's team spirit that allowed me to look through a magnifying glass at my own snow blanket, I saw the snow flakes. I found the violent winds, and I laid down in subordination.

So, by the time I got to high school, unlike the snow, I fought back. But those outside forces were still there. Those days of jumping around, joking and laughing, dancing, and smiling, were my response to the winds and freezing conditions. My close friends knew what was really going on under the ice, but to those that watched from the balcony upstairs, the appearance of peaceful snow hid some brutal frozen conditions beneath.

A couple of folks asked me along the way, and some afterwards, why I was the way I was, cheerful, and always enjoying my time at school. And when I shared what was beneath the ice, they became surprised saying they had no clue that I was going through certain struggles because I was always having fun, and was so good in class. Well, being book smart and having a sense of humor isn't always a recipe for happiness--but it's a good start.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that many of us appear to others as having the elegant, peaceful snow blanket, but like those smooth rocks on the beach or by a river, it's only by the long-term battering of the waves and other objects.

So when you're "shocked" at someone's passing like Philip Seymour Hoffman, Cory Monteith, Heath Ledger, Kurt Cobain...(you get the picture), realize that although many hold these celebrities up on monumental pedestals, being good at something, whether it's book smarts, music, acting, or having a lot of something else, like money, fame, or popularity, doesn't mean you're completely happy.

Not that each suicidal, accidental, tragic death is equal, but what makes me a little bit sad is for each individual that takes his or her own life, is that it could have been prevented by some one (or some few) that listen. And you don't always have to wait for them to ask either. Asking for help is a big pride issue for many people, and so even the simplest act of saying hello can make someone feel important.

So listen to each other. Ask for help. Reach out if you really care, regardless of how long it has been since you last spoke.

Death is a unfortunate truth. Suicide is tragic, preventable situation. But loneliness...

Loneliness is probably the singular, saddest thing anyone can experience.

And so, if you're reading this, whether I know you or not.

You're never alone.

Photo and Blog a Day Challenge- Day 5/28: On My Nightstand

Today's challenge was much more specific in a way the previous four days have not been. It demanded a certain location. Only allowing myself enough time to spring out of bed, shower, pack my lunch while inhaling my breakfast, and throw on extra layers for some light snow duty before driving to work (at a leisurely--but safe--15 mph) I would have to wait until I got home from work to take the day's photo.

Once home I was faced with a creative challenge (after, of course, changing out of work clothes into sweats because that's just part of the routine when I get home...at least during the winter months). So reminding myself of the day's prompt, I got back into bed and took a photo of where a nightstand would typically live.

True story. That's the edge of the mattress at the bottom of the picture, and there's nothing but carpet, some wall, a door frame, and the lowest few inches of the bedroom door.

(Here is where Neo wakes up from a dream where he was at the Oracle's house, and he hears the child say to him, "There is no nightstand.")

Unhappy with the photo taken, I took a more functional approach. What serves as my nightstand?

Answer: The ground. And the multi-level shelf next to it that also serves as a dresser. Pictured is my alarm clock that I've had for several years, accompanied by my cell phone charger.

And this is where the spark for the blog was lit.

I've had this alarm clock for quite a few years (I'd say at least 5) and it's obviously came with me through several moves. Unless you have the short-term memory of a pretty blue tang named Dory, you'll remember I mentioned the alarm clock's neighbor (at least in the power outlet world) the phone charger. I actually use my phone for my alarm and haven't used the alarm on the clock radio for a while. But I still keep it. Plugged in. With the current time.

And I thought, why do I still have it? If I'm using my phone for my alarm, why not toss it?

Because it still works.

So why don't I use it?

Because I use my phone.

So toss it.

But it works.

So use it...

And that's why I keep bringing it with me.

But that's a lot like life. Knowledge, stories, and memories. Whether they're useful or not, you remember a lot of them. Sometimes it's easier to recall the ones that don't really mean anything, they're just...memorable.

But then other times, you just gotta move on and let go some of the stuff you don't use anymore. It doesn't mean it wasn't important, or didn't help you, or provided some guidance or a lesson for a period of time, it just means you've outgrown it's purpose.

And that's ok.

So I've got an alarm clock that works perfectly fine, and if anybody needs one--let me know and I'll send it to you free of charge.

I just don't need it anymore, and I won't miss it, so you can have it.

Not to say old friends or memories are alarm clocks, I'm much more emotionally attached to them, but it's something that has been on my mind for a while.

I've always loved my friends, but sometimes, or rather eventually, many of them/us drift apart for whatever reasons. Many of these times it isn't malicious or for any wrong doing of either party. It's just...life.

I've moved. They've moved. Relationships. Career paths. Social circles, The reasons are endless.

But that doesn't mean I still don't love you. And it definitely doesn't mean you weren't important to me. Correction, it definitely doesn't mean you AREN'T important to me. You are. You have been before, and I still care about you now. But for whatever the reason may be, we've continued on separate paths and well, maybe you and I can be alarm clocks for other people that need that nudge every day. We're still perfectly functional and wonderful as friends, but maybe someone else needs us.

And that's ok.

Just because I use my phone as an alarm clock doesn't mean I'll forget about all the good times I had with the clock radio (read: cursing it's blaring as I drag myself out of bed), I won't. Just like I will not/have not/cannot forget you.

We'll always have those times from rehearsals, adventures, trips to Denny's, breaks between matinees and evening shows, drunken karaoke (I guess that's redundant)...well, you get the picture.

But if we get the chance to pick back up where we left off, you know I'd give you a big hug and a high five and probably toss in a thatswhatshesaid or a fart joke a few minutes in.

Well done, nightstand prompt, you've been linked to a reminiscent post about good friends that I'll never forget.

A cave on the beach

 Being scared of putting yourself out there isn’t a new concept to most people. Whether it’s romantically, professionally, or socially, among relatives, classmates, coworkers, or strangers, taking a step forward is difficult for everyone at some point. Here’s a visualization I created for myself when explaining to others what I’m feeling.

I’m standing at the mouth of a cave on a fairly deep beach (deep as in distance from waterline to said cave, as opposed to wide as in distance running along the water). Enjoying my time on the beach is where I want to be, not necessarily at the waterline the whole time, but out of the dim, musty cave that I’m currently standing in. I take a couple steps out and feel the breeze across my toes, but as I get farther into the beach, the sand gets a little too hot and I retreat back to my cave.

Unbeknownst to me at that moment, I’ve entered the cave a few feet in from where I started. The cold sand feels good on my feet, and although I can see the light on the sand, it’s comfortable to sit in the cave that whistles to me while it holds me.

After a bit I gather a bit of courage and take some bold steps onto the sand, exiting the cave on my own willpower and desire to be on the warm beach. The warmth feels good on my back. The sun rejuvenates my love for the beach that I knew I wanted to be on. Life is good.

Taking a few more steps towards the water, the calm crashes of the waves shows me a serenity that I did not know was there. The sand beneath my feet, the breeze rushing through my hair, the warm sun on my face, and the rushing symphony of the crashing waves fills me with energy and passion that I knew I wanted in some form but did not know how to harness.

Until a wave knocks me on my back and the seemingly calm water has now taken my over and dragged me chest deep with my toes barely touching.

I panic, become disoriented, and with eyes closed and erratic breaths, find the sand with my feet and hands and crawl back up to the waterline, shaking the water out of my ears, wiping my face, and spitting the salty ambush from my mouth as I run back towards the cave.

I stop running when it gets dark and the water still dripping down my body is starting to make me cold in the dim rock shelter so I collapse to my knees and hug myself to keep warm.

My breath stabilizes and I can’t distinguish between tears and ocean, but I bury my face in my hands atop my knees and sit in silence in the cave that I did not know was this deep.

I feel like I’m being punished for my bold steps onto the warm sand. Distracted by the elation of the symphony of peace, I let my guard down and trusted the world. For a brief moment I forgot my fear of drowning and total disorientation, and in that seemingly perfect moment I lost myself. When I finally gathered myself I ran as fast as I could on solid ground until I knew I was safely away from the grip of the rushing waves.

And just like life, the cycle continues, the desire for the beach keeps me coming out, and whenever I am beaten by the waves, sunburn, or sand in my eyes (all things I know are possibilities of being on the beach) I retreat further back into the cave. Sometimes I run so far back that the outside is but a tiny pinpoint of light. Occasionally, someone comes into the cave with a torch to show me the way out. But the more they approach, the more I recoil. If I trust them enough I may come forward to join them. Depending on what I see up ahead, I may come barreling forward knowing that whatever is motivating me is worth the risk of being knocked on my back by the waves.

There have been times when I stand at the waterline with a friend. There have been other times when I’ve shut my eyes in the cave and stayed there until I’m too cold, and I’m forced to come out onto the sand just to stay alive, but I don’t step too far out, and the light is painful to my eyes that have adjusted to the darkness.

Obviously, this visualization is perfect for me since I love the beach, the sun, and can’t swim. For you, your beach may be a forest. Or your cave may be the ocean as you look for trees and land. Wherever you end up, you make the decision to step towards the light or retreat further back into your cave. Sometimes you run forward, and sometimes you crawl back. Maybe what you think is the sun glimmering into your dark prison is someone’s smile, and that’s all you need to open your eyes. I can’t answer that for you. All I can do is decide how far out onto the beach my feet take me, and if I get knocked down, I can rinse off in the water, and curl up at the mouth of my cave when high tide comes in to rest—until the next day when I step out onto the sand again.

Roots- A Prologue

2013-10-07; 2143

“In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes.” –Benjamin Franklin

See also: “Blood is thicker than water.”

There’s a blog I’ve been wanting to write for a while, but it’s been spinning around in my head (and snowballing) for multiple reasons:

Honor.

Shame.

Privacy.

Respect.

Honesty.

Emotion.

Clarity.

Asian-culture.

American.

Perspective.

Pain.

The primary topic is rarely, if ever, considered taboo, but my reluctance to actually get this down on “paper” is suspended by my sensitivity to many people I care about and have no wish to disrespect.

I know it isn’t like me to pull any punches or veer away from any topics that may seem off-color, but this one particular one is rooted so deeply in so many of us that it may just be too far for some.

My views on this specific concept has evolved drastically over the last three decades, and I can confidently say that I am in the minority opinion. This doesn’t surprise me, because with as unique a path as I’ve carved for myself (in regards to those I am close to), different opinions are often products of different environments.

The topic?

Family.

Back to School!

So it’s Back to School season, and for the first time in [mumble, censor] years, I’m not getting ready for classes or working at a campus prepping for the onslaught of stampeding parents and new students.

I have been, however, shoulder deep in Back to School retail, and have been witnessing the masses purchase stacks upon stacks of…not books…but pants and polo shirts in navy blue, white, khaki, black, sky blue, and cardigans, and backpacks. (This almost turned into a post about wanting children, which would be fitting since this is the first time I’ve blogged since I’ve gotten married, ah thank you very much, but that wasn’t the goal. Another time.)

A few folks from the village are heading off to college, as is the younger brother of my best friend back in NorCal (high five, EJ!) and at a college send off party/fiesta, we went around the table and shared our bits of college advice. That really got me thinking about starting college, and being a couple years after the diploma (and still without the itch to start grad school), it felt a bit refreshing to think back on that first semester at community college and then at the transfer to The Beach (Go Beach!).

College is an interesting adventure—everyone’s experience is different, there are varying goals, definitions of success, and multiple ways to go about it. (How did this just become a post about losing your virginity? I’ll say it again…Another time. Maybe)

You probably already know to always wear sunscreen, so I’ll share some nuggets that I may have scribbled inside a locker, under the bleachers, or backstage behind the fly system ropes (high five for techies!)

1. Don’t register for a class before 10am.

2. If you need help learning about it or how to do it, there’s probably an office on campus that can help you with it. (Yes, even that.)

3. Skipping class gets easier each time you do it, so be careful.

4. Practice makes perfect (and yes, this applies to beer pong).

5. Your friends know you’re lying when you say, “I’m never doing THAT again.”

6. Sometimes you can buy books for cheaper from folks who took that class last semester.

7. You don’t need all your books on the first day.

8. Carry extra scantrons.

9. Study groups are awesome, but choose your study buddies wisely.

10. Take notes, if not to review later…to keep yourself active to stay awake.

11. Don’t be afraid to talk to your professors, they’re people too.

12. Take advantage of career centers/counselors, there’s nothing like finding out you’re short on credits when you think you’re walking with your friends next semester.

13. You define your goals.

14. Decide why you’re going to college: A—to get a degree that will leverage your job hunt. B—to follow an academic program in a discipline that you enjoy and find interesting. C—mommy and daddy said to. D—all of the above

15. People will judge your major. Whether you’re going into the arts, engineering, writing, or whatever. It’s your degree with your name on it, so follow a path you want to be on (see #14).

16. If there’s a pub on campus, don’t be afraid. It isn’t there to sidetrack your education, it’s there to hang out with (and meet) friends.

17. Do more than go to class and take tests.

18. Go to sporting events.

19. Join a club.

20. Be friends with your roommate(s).

21. Don’t move in with someone just because you’re friends. There’s a lot more to living together than you think (especially if you’re moving into a place for the first time).

22. Don’t be afraid to cry—it’s your body letting off some energy you don’t need to hold onto.

23. Hug at least five people every day.

24. Compliment people you don’t know when you’re walking by.

25. See a theatrical production on campus.

26. Smile—you’re taking advantage of an education that many dream of.

27. Don’t be afraid to make new friends.

28. Know that your circle of friends will change. It’s ok.

29. Take breaks.

30. Cramming isn’t for everyone.

31. Learn about your school and take some pride in it.

32. Don’t take everything as law, you may get tossed some false information from upperclassmen.

33. Don’t be afraid to ask questions.

34. Call home.

35. Visit your friends.

36. Don’t force yourself to come home if you don’t want to.

37. BUDGET.

38. Research scholarships

39. Find a get away spot on campus. A quiet corner, special bench, or long hallway, somewhere where you can be you for five minutes when it gets crazy.

40. Eat.

41. Drink water.

42. Get there early. Especially if you’re looking for parking.

43. Don’t feel bad about going to a community college first.

44. Be honest with yourself, if a class isn’t working out (for whatever reason: the teacher, the time slot, the material), don’t be afraid to drop it and find another course that fulfills the requirement (if available).

45. Be honest with yourself. (Yes, this deserves repeating, especially for just general understanding.)

46. Bring snacks.

47. One day (but hopefully more than once), you may find yourself on campus around sunrise or sunset before it’s riddled with people. It’ll be quiet, peaceful, and it’ll be one of the calmest moments you’ll have that semester. Stop where you are and take a breath. Remember this moment for later when it isn’t so calm.

48. Take pictures.

49. Make lists.