I Am Here and Now

As I have seen more years, I have seen more things.

As I have seen more things, I have seen more of the same things.

As I have seen more of the same things, I have begun to recognize them sooner.

As I have recognized them soon, I have still often ignored them.

As I have ignored them, I have been swallowed by them.

Here is where I learn.

As I now recognize that I ignore them, I can now more confidently take action to bob and weave instead of taking the punches blindly. I can keep my eyes clear instead of being blinded what I think is real.

Here is where I begin to trust myself.

Now is when I begin to trust myself more.

Now is when I take what I have learned and recognize that I am exactly who I should be.

For all the things that I have seen over the years, the things I have recognized and ignored, the things I have learned but have not yet put them into practice, this is where that ends.

This is where I begin.

Now is when I begin.

Here is where I am.

Exactly myself is who I am.

Photo and Blog a Day Challenge-Day 13/28: Water

"Be water, my friend." -Bruce Lee

I've had quite a relationship with water in my three decades on this Earth (which is covered mostly water, by the way).

1. Lived on both coasts.
2. Joined the Navy.
3. Stationed on and deployed with a submarine (Hooyah, Rickover!)
4. I love the beach (fitting with #1).
5. I love pool parties.
6. I drink a lot of water.
7. I really enjoy taking a shower.
8. I passed my swim qual in Navy boot camp.
9. I successfully completed a month-long swimming unit in high school.
10. I can't swim.
11. One of my biggest fears is drowning.

Ok, so maybe #10 and #11 aren't exactly in support of my overall positive relationship with dihydrogen monoxide, but hey, you take the good with the bad, right? You gotta break a few eggs to make an omelette, so they say.

But yes, water and I get along more times than not. A lot of people do. Brad Paisley even wrote a song about it. And not in a metaphorical, subliminal way, either. Here's the video for the song entitled, "Water," shocker, right?

If you've been following my blogging journey, you've noticed there have been a few posts about snow.
Snow.
More snow.
Snowflakes.

I wanted to flip it up today, so I give you...ice.

Driving around seeing all the icicles on houses has been so intriguing, awe inspiring, and scary. A few days ago, a co-worker had told me that the icicles on the back of the building had been growing, so during my lunch today, I drove around to check em out for myself

Whoa, right? Here are a few more.

And although the logical part of my brain can piece together exactly how this happens, I couldn't help but stare at them and be amazed.

Water. Like Bruce Lee said, it can take the form of any vessel that it fills. But what if there is no vessel? Then it flows as freely as it can...until it freezes. And then it flows again when it thaws...until it freezes it again. Rinse, lather, repeat.

Applying that to ourselves, we can flow into the vessels that we fill. Households, schools, jobs, religions, communities, and so on. But when there is no vessel, where do we go? When do we freeze? When do we stay liquid? Do we become dirty by picking up filth from our environment? Or even when it is added to us?

We can filter things out, thaw, freeze, flow, and spread. We can lose droplets in cracks and grow in collaboration with others.

These icicles back here are like people. These moderately scary, but wholly awesome ice sculptures persuaded by the construction of these buildings are like each of us. We flow, we grow, we freeze, we flow, we spread, we mix, we nourish, evaporate, and flow once again.

It's as simple as Master Bruce said, "Be water, my friend."

Photo and Blog a Day Challenge-Day 12/28: Can't Go Without

This prompt caught my eye when I started the challenge, and now that the day is here, it hasn't become any clearer. As most days have been, the search for an enticing subject starts early in the morning. What became of the awareness exercise evolved into an introspection in regards to materialism.

So I asked myself throughout the day, "Can I go without this? Not necessarily forever, but even for a extended period of time?"

A toilet. A shower. Breakfast. A car. Warm clothes. Shoes. My reusable water bottle.

Toilets are relatively new in the grand scheme of things. As are showers and plumbing in general.

Breakfast. Yeah, I can just wait until lunch.

I've gone without a car before and got around with public transportation and the good graces of friends with cars.

Warm clothes aren't as important in warmer climates. Likewise with shoes.

My orange water bottle that I've had for a while? Sure, it's great for the environment to reuse it instead of buying bottled water all the time, but is it an absolute necessity? Having forgotten it at home, work, or in my car on several occasions, I can say that it isn't.

When I got back in my luxury of car (not to be confused with "luxury car), what I wanted to capture for "Can't Go Without" was music to my ears. Literally. It was music to my ears.

Even though these next few points aren't at the bottom of the page...a few footnotes:
1. Ignore the fact that my hand/wrist looks disproportionate to my tiny excuses for fingers.
2. Yes I still buy and listen to CDs. (For those of you who are confused, CD stands for Compact Disc.)
3. These two CDs are currently the only two in my car.
4. The Matchbox Twenty album, North, is what's playing in the background (that you can't hear).
5. The track playing is Track 12: Sleeping at the Wheel, my current favorite song, and possibly my new favorite MB20 song. (Definitely top 3)

So yes, my entry for "Can't Go Without" is music. I cannot go without music. The two albums pictured above, are from my two favorite bands. North, from Matchbox Twenty, and Live on the Inside, from Sugarland.

I appreciate all genres of music, but MB20 has been the one band since I first heard them in 1996 that has always provided a soundtrack for my life. From the first singles, "Real World" and "3AM," and the song "Busted," off Yourself or Someone Like You, to "If You're Gone" and "Rest Stop" (Mad Season), to "Bright Lights" (More Than You Think You Are), and now "Sleeping at the Wheel" and "Parade" on the latest volume of MB20 musicology, North, I've been swimming in rocking riffs, floating upon wispy words, and nodding my head in agreement like they know my life.

And Sugarland. Oh, Sugarland. Every album has its songs that have lifted me through times that without music, I don't know how I would have fared. "Just Might (Make Me Believe)," "Want To," "Fall Into Me," and "Love" are just a few. ("Just Might" literally got me through a two and a half day stint in the hospital, including the ER and ICU, but that's a story for another time.)

I could honestly go on about just about every song on each of these bands albums and how they specifically helped me through different parts of my life (and how some continue to help, even years later in completely different situations).

So music, you are it. Aside from the obvious physiological needs, and aside from Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, Music is my #1 Can't Go Without.

What's yours?

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.

Photo and Blog a Day Challenge: Day 1/28-Light

If you're an IG user, you've probably seen (or even participated) in a #photoaday challenge. I have yet to actually complete one, and in coming across a new one (in the shortest month of the year, no less) I've decided to up the ante.

With each picture I take each day I'm going to write a blog to go with it. Right here on this page.

I'll tweet these with the hashtag #PhotoBlogChallenge

Here's the photo challenge I'm using if you'd like to play along.

No special connection to this one, it's the first one I found when I searched #photoaday on IG and I liked it because it's a little different from the others I've seen.

And here's my picture for today

And the IG link is HERE

And without further ado...the accompanying blog.

Light:

Almost a year to the day I received this watch as a gift, the LEDs started to dim and the coolest watch I've ever had began to show weakness.

Last night I finally made my way to the mall to get it replaced and now it shines brighter that it did when I first received it.

Metaphor? Maybe.

The "Faceless Watch" from Hammacher Schlemmer was the wedding gift from my wife last year. Yes, I've heard so much that the first year is the hardest, and as the watch began to get beaten and bumped and scratched all year, eventually it faded away. Not to be lost in a pile of whatever is lying around the apartment, I kept it in plain view waiting for when I could make it to the mall (after a pay day) to get it replaced.

Simple task for many, but with the weather being as wintry as it has been this year, going out for non-essential errands was for crazy people. It did feel weird not wearing a watch at first, but my wife lent me a traditional watch she wore when she was working at the ON. Not as bold as the black metal, or as bright as the LEDs, but still functional, comfortable, and I must say, much lighter.

Now having my black BA watch on my wrist (which, I've also been convinced by said wife to switch wrists) a new month/year has begun. The guy at the jewelry kiosk said it should last for two years and they'll replace it (with receipt of course) if it doesn't make it, but I should remind myself he's talking about the battery and not my life/marriage (which is totally fine since I should be able to take care of that without the help of a jewelry salesman who has never seen a watch like this before.

So yes. Metaphor? Maybe, but probably not. I just like reading into things and finding connections between just about everything.

My first thought for today's photo prompt of "Light" was to take a picture of the snowy surroundings, but as I checked the time and was pleased at how bright the time and date shined from the black background, I knew that this was a better choice.

Countdown to Midnight

Fifteen minutes before midnight on January 1^st and I’m clacking away at the keys on the laptop. What a difference a day makes, yes? New Year’s Eve is something celebrated around the world in many ways: fireworks, feasts, clubs, dancing, DJs, board games, house parties, a quiet night with a loved one, or even working through the night away from all the festivities. For others, they go to sleep at a traditional time and wake up the next day like every other.

Maybe we can take a hint from those folks some may label as “party poopers” or “old people” or “boring folks”.

Look at it this way: what if we treated every midnight as a new opportunity to start fresh? What if we partied every night like that? What if we lay ourselves down to sleep and woke up the next morning with an invigorated feeling that presented us with a clean canvas?

I’ll share a secret with you—you don’t have to wait for New Year’s Eve each year to start over.

Let go of the dumb shit whenever you want. Start fresh whenever the feeling welcomes you. Maybe even if it doesn’t.

Wake up each morning with a little bit more excitement than you did the night before, and go to bed each night a little more victorious than you were the night prior.

Don’t get me wrong, I love a party as much as the next person does, but don’t rely on the public to give you a moment to start fresh. Drop your own illuminated ball on the Times Square in your house. Shoot off fireworks every time you brush your teeth or play with your dog.

Resolve to live each day within the year. Don’t wait for the calendar to change so that you can. Change and let the calendar catch up with you.

Happy 2014 folks. Happy January. Happy Thursday. Happy day.

The Duck Call Heard Round the World

People are funny. Anyone that has hung around me for more than fifteen minutes knows I like to laugh and that my sense of humor is awesomely broad, finding entertainment in so many things. But that’s not the kind of funny I’m talking about tonight.

I’m talking about how you use your voice. And not in a technical, vocal theory, Seth Rudetsky kind of way, but in the speak up for yourself and voice your opinion, first Amendment use your voice kind of way.

If you’re on social media sites a lot (which is probably applicable if you’re reading this, by nature of the beast), then you have probably noticed a swarming of posts regarding Phil Robertson, aka the Duck Commander of A&E’s Duck Dynasty. If you haven’t, or haven’t read any of the articles, here are a couple to get you going

The GQ article by Drew Magary that launched this online hornet’s off

An Entertainment Weekly article

A CNN update

So here’s the quick version.

Drew asked Phil a question. Phil answered and shared his opinion about homosexuality and some chatter about growing up in Louisiana. This opinion was taken as a huge kick in the pants and spit in your eye to those in support of marriage equality and pro-LGBT communities. After this article was released, A&E places Phil on “hiatus” and suspends him from the show.

There are two general posts I’ve noticed about this situation:

1. Down with Phil and the whole Duck Dynasty crew for believing in something different from what I do.

2. Hooray Phil for speaking what I believe in.

How about this, folks, when it comes to your opinion…

You’re right.

We’re all right in our opinions, and surprise, there will always be someone with a different view.

Yes, I agree with the principle that a man was asked his opinion and that he shared it. There’s nothing illegal about that. There isn’t anything illegal about publishing it either.

And I don’t work for A&E nor do I know what the conversation was that led to his suspension from the highly-favored show he is affiliated with. For all I know, the suits behind the show may have wanted this backlash to occur and arranged this as a stunt to really bolster viewers in support of Duck Dynasty, filtering out those that don’t share in Phil’s views. But I don’t, so I kick back and watch so many people flail about the online pool of bullshit.

Here’s where the crowds wake up, which leads me to my view of how people are funny.

Social media posts are a great substitute for current event news shows. Whenever someone dies, a major event happens, someone farts in church, anything. I can gauge how grand something is by the variety of people that post about it. When Nelson Mandela died? A few posts here and there. But Obama’s Selfie-gate? That turned into as big a deal as him getting re-elected. Paul Walker’s death. Everywhere. Billie Jean King going to Sochi. (High five if you didn’t have to Google that, or Billie Jean King.) Barely anything.

People like to sound off when it’s something people are talking about, and it’s usually something that doesn’t affect them directly, but they have an opinion about.

Shocker. You can have an opinion about something. Tell me what you had for lunch, I’ll have an opinion about it and tell you a story about why that pisses me off.

And I get it. I really do. It’s easy to share an opinion when it’s about something that doesn’t directly affect you, reflect on you, or make an actual difference in your own life. Because if you do share something about how feel and you offend someone or ruffle their feathers, then, oh snap, you’re getting ignored, blocked, defriended, or worse, not paid attention to.

What about the last time you ordered food at a restaurant and your order was wrong and you didn’t say anything because you “didn’t want to be that customer” or “cause any trouble.” Or the time that awkward co-worker keeps ogling you or making obscene comments about your sister, wife, or daughter. Or what about any other situation like bullying, harassment, or using words like “gay” or “retarded” in a derogatory manner. Did you speak up then?

Probably not. And I’ll be the first to tell you that I’ve been guilty of this too. But I’ll tell you what…in the last two years, I’ve made a conscious effort to say something when someone says something is “gay” or refers to something as “retarded.”

Because that can actually help. That’s using my voice to make me world around me a little better.

Complaining about what someone else did, or defending them when they don’t know you from Adam just feels like waste of time. And maybe I’m wasting my own time, telling you that it’s a waste of time. And so what if it’s ironic that I’m sharing my own opinion?

I guess what I’m really trying to say is, relax. Take some of that energy you have, some of that pomp in your step, and some of that fire in your pocket and refocus it. Try thanking people for things that you make take for granted. Try helping someone out. Try asking someone how they’re doing and actually hang around long enough for them to tell you.

I don’t agree with Phil’s point of view, but I’m not mad at him for sharing it. He was asked. But I look at him like any other celebrity. Yeah, he’s a public figure and people enjoy him and his family for entertainment, and yeah he’s supposed to be aware of what he says, and I’m sure he is. But is what he says or does paying your bills or raising your kids? (well maybe it is the latter if your tv is raising your kids, but that’s a different story.) Is the private life of an athlete really going to make you stop rooting for your team? Or is the social life of an actor or actress really going to make you enjoy their beautiful performance any less?

Because if it is, then you should probably take a vacation. By yourself. For a while.

I believe in marriage equality, human rights, civil rights, and the pursuit of happYness.

I acknowledge that there are still racial inequalities and that makes me sad.

I hope to see the day where there is no more salary disparity between women and men.

Guns don’t kill people, people kill people, and no amount of regulations, background checks, waiting periods, or anything will keep a criminal from committing a crime.

Regulations don’t keep people from taking drugs. Education and experience does.

Music doesn’t make people commit suicide, shoot up schools, movie theatres, or cause riots. Whether it’s rap, rock, opera, or classical, it doesn’t matter. Music tells stories, invokes action, and amplifies your soul.

The act of going to a church doesn’t make you a better person. And neither does not going. You make yourself a better person.

Will there always be people I disagree with? Yes. And some of those people are some of the coolest I may ever meet, but I’ll tell you this, at least they know what they stand for, whether it’s what I stand for or not. And as long as they listen more than they preach, I’ll sit and chew the fat with you.

So preach on, Phil Robertson. Speak your mind. I do, but I don’t have the millions to be famous enough for anyone else to care. This may not be read by even twenty people. But I said it. And I’ll say it again.

I’m sorry you feel that way, because the world is changing for the better whether you like it or not.

But who am I to you? No one. I’m just some Asian kid from the bay area livin in the heartland of America, and guess what? That’s totally cool, because you have your opinion and I have mine, and I can respect that.

I just wish people would use their voices more powerfully. To do something that’ll actually make a difference, and not just spend it on topics that won’t change anyone’s life.

Love yourself. Speak with honesty and conviction. Worry about the safety of your family and don’t think you’re above anyone. Your marriage won’t hurt mine. My owning a gun won’t have anything to do with your grandchildren. My vote in the booth is for my children. And don’t think my appreciation for country music is an attempt to blend in with the crowd. I’ll bump some Tupac too, but don’t be afraid, I won’t  cut you.

Diving into snow

Looking out the window of my kitchen this morning, I was drawn in by the erratic paths individual snowflakes fly. Yes, we’ve heard it all before…

“People are like snowflakes, unique and beautiful in their own way.”

But what I saw led me to these subsequent thoughts:

Snowflakes are like people in many ways, but obviously not completely.

We travel individual paths, but not completely out of our own control. (At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.)

A gentle breeze may blow us around, dusting the earth with wintry highlights, but as we accumulate, we can bring destruction upon things that are not ours.

When seen from inside, behind the safety of a window, we are safe from the masses and are protected from the bitter cold they are flown in with.

When molded and forced to collaborate by children, artists, and free spirits, snowmen are created, erecting something joyful for others to appreciate.

Snowflakes only exist in certain conditions, in select parts of the world, during specific times of year. Some people feel they can only survive in certain conditions, whether it’s year-long tropics or seasonal, metropolitan or secluded.

We’re part of a cycle that, as many understand, to be finite and quantifiable, but can be viewed as snowflakes do, recycling over centuries, traveling great distances between continents and oceans, sharing the same planet that prehistoric creatures did and future generations will to come.

Sometimes, if you jump early, you can be smothered by those that follow blindly, or even by chance, but in someone or something else’s search for life or food, you can be unearthed, discovered, and redirected.

White is a color of purity for many people, and as the white snow falls to the ground, cars drive by, and dirt is mixed in, leaving it dingy and different, but not necessarily wrong or repulsive. As people, we enter the world without judgments, needing security and food, but as we travel our own roads and are kicked around by other travelers and become dirty ourselves, we can appear repulsive to others, but we are still ourselves.

And when the sun shines again we have lived through our time. Hopefully we have brought joy to others, but there will undoubtedly be those numbers that cause pain, suffering, and hardship for many they don’t know.

Bruce Lee said, "Be water, my friend" and snow is still water with a little persuasion from the elements, so I think we’re still capable of doing some good.

Every veteran has a different story

I have a lot to say, and much of it I shouldn’t, so what does make it out of my head often ends up in a blog.

Before the age of 22 I had graduated from Navy basic training, Nuclear Powers school, qualified submarines, trained in firearms (9mm, shotgun, M-14, and M-16), went on deployments, and separated from the military as a disabled veteran from a service-connected disability.

I am not a combat veteran. I was never deployed to Iraq, Afghanistan, or anywhere in that part of the globe.

In junior college I had taken a speech class as a requirement and one of our projects was to present an argumentative speech. I chose a topic that centered on I don’t know what else to call but deployment guilt.

I graduated from nuke school the weekend before 9/11/01 and, with good reason, was asked by all of my friends and family if I was deploying to the Middle East with the orders I had just received. After separating, whenever my veteran status came up in discussion I was posed the question if I had served in Iraq or Afghanistan. When sharing with them that I had not, and that I was on a special-ops submarine (aka sans battle group), their mood often changed, seeming disappointed that I was not a part of the military that was the focus of every media channel. I don’t remember the exact statistics of my speech, but I remember the proportion of it. Of all the service members of the United States Armed Forces, approximately a quarter of them deployed to Iraq and/or Afghanistan. For a fairly recent article with more credible sources, click here.

Now, I can’t blame the general public for inquiring about my location of deployment, and this is in no way a statement against those that did deploy to (or currently still are in) those locations—this is just the opinion of one veteran with one story. Contrary to the belief of a couple of my professors through college, I am not the singular spokesperson for the military, my experience is not indicative of everyone’s, and I am not making the decisions that send our troops over there.

I just occasionally feel like my time in service was negligible.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not asking for some national commendation, a movie deal, or a free lunch, but with the recent events of seeing Ajax in Iraq at CSULB and attending the Vet Net Ally seminar for CSULB staff and faculty, the story of my own service has been fresh in my mind.

Aboard the (now decommissioned) USS Hyman G. Rickover(SSN-709), I lived and worked among men—only—no, really, there were no women on board, and many times, these are the guys that I want to go grab a beer with after work, watch football with, and talk about what’s going on with my family, my upcoming nuptials, and life in general. We were brothers, fathers, sons, boyfriends, uncles—we were shipmates. We were all very different, but because of our isolated world of the silent service, we all held a common bond. On liberty, you may have different interests and drink in different bars, but underway, in the waters that have absolutely no regard for your skin color, your age, your creed, or even what flag you fly in port—we knew what it meant to get a job done. We left our families, friends, homes, and everything we knew for weeks at a time to do a job that we all voluntarily signed up for. Yeah, sub duty is voluntary. Many other details are assigned, often with preference, but submarine duty is something you go out of your way to take part of.

For weeks there is no sunlight—just fluorescent, buzzing ballasts and maybe a personal incandescent lamp. There are no windows, and fresh air is determined by the efficiency of the fan room. You smell of carbon dust, lube oil, and tin cans. After two weeks, your crew has already gone through all the fresh vegetables and fruit and you’re back to canned tomatoes, breaded chicken patties, and what resembles scrambled eggs. Emails were few and far between, and even then it’s extremely limited, and it’s probably mission-related. Television was limited to whatever movie the crew’s mess voted on after each meal, and if you’re lucky, you can stay awake for a couple games of spades or maybe a jam session or two with the guy that brought his guitar (or bought a violin “just because” in Norway).

There is no sand, incoming fire, or 120 degree heat (unless the fans go out back aft). There are no 70lb rucksacks, IEDs, or fear of snipers. CNN isn’t sending any reporters to talk to us, and there aren’t any photojournalists scurrying around hoping to shoot the cover of TIME magazine.

I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t challenging, or if I said there weren’t many times I just “wanted to go home.” Likewise if I told you I loved eating those unidentifiable meals or hot racking. I will say that those weeks and weeks underway, and those days I stopped in my tracks on base to observe morning or evening colors are missed more often than not, and that joining the military right out of high school (or technically, while I was still in high school) was the best decision I’ve ever made in my life.

I did what I signed up to do, most of it completely unplanned and usually by orders of people I had never met, but the intangibles that have stayed with me years after my last LES have continually reaffirmed that I learned what I should have and that my status as a veteran is hard-earned—combat veteran or not.

Fortunately, I’ll never truly know what those men and women experienced in Iraq and Afghanistan, and to be honest, had I not been medically discharged, I probably would have tried to go back into the military at different times in the last eight years.

This “deployment guilt” I write about is no result of your actions—it’s from within my own mind as a result of my own environment and I see myself, and as blogs would have it, writing it out has produced another clear realization for myself—every veteran has a very distinctive story, and no person, organization, channel, or medium can diminish that. It is what it is for yourself, and my only hope is that it benefits you in the long run no matter where your story took you.

"update" (term used loosely)

so i've been wanting to blog for a while, but everything has ramped up to warp speed. here are some of the milestone/benchmarks/highlights/lowlights:

I now write for the Long Beach Acting Examiner

I caved and signed up for Twitter to support my Acting Examiner column

I started training to be a radio host at KBEACH radio to st

art a weekly theatre talk show

I start training to be a House Manager at Long Beach Playhouse this week

I'm an Assistant Directing Intern with Long Beach Shakespeare

I'm a temp (potentially permanent) at the CSULB Bookstore

The last surviving grandparent in my family passed away last month.

Corn, The Language Archive, and being Filipino (they link together, really)

My older brother got married.

My younger sister caught the bouquet at said marriage.

It's been eleven years since I swore

in at MEPS Oakland to fly out to Naval RTC (Recruit Training Command, aka bootcamp)-July 29.

That's all for now.