“hello, is it me you’re looking for?”
it’s been so long since I’ve posted that Xanga isn’t even the same anymore. once I figure out what’s going on I have a few things I want to post. nothing earth shattering, just musings from an older version of myself so that an even older version of myself can continue to visit the younger versions of me and marvel at how naïve/young I was/am.

not that this matters to most people in the world, hell it doesn’t even matter to most people it directly effects. for those of you who are inclined to still be reading, in this day of tweets and facebook, the teachers in BC are on job action to push for negotiating a better contract. the BC government is trying to introduce Bill 22 which would make certain things non-negotiating points. things such as class size, wage increases, and special needs helpers. so essentially the government is saying that things like work conditions, needs and wages will be dictated by the government and those working in this industry will have to just accept it. i thought slavery was abolished ages ago? this ironically, comes after the BC government brought in a minimum wage increase that will reach $10.50/hr this May (my recollection on the exact wage and date may be slightly fuzzy, but it’s close enough for this case) so essentially with this new Bill 22 what the BC government is saying is “everybody in BC gets a raise, except for all you teachers. you don’t deserve one.” does that make sense to anybody?

i don’t actually know what i would want to say anyways. people that have come and gone in my life…seen in the rearview mirror of my memory as time continues to drag us apart. signposts along a path once so familiar that i’ve never actually looked where i was going….so how did i get here? are things well? well enough. but not good. not bad, but not good. seems like i don’t remember what defines good or bad anymore, only what is. is that a sign of aging, or apathy? youth remembered is not youth lived, but while i recall my youth, i don’t think i was ever young. naive? of course. innocent? briefly. good? well, did i mention naive? does one ever wonder where this is meant to go? was i supposed to have said yes? no? pushed? held on? let go? are regrets the same as curiousity? life is a choose your adventure book…but will you turn the page?

time…passes with very little regard of my trials and tribulations. judges not, but merely observes. disjointed from disuse, i can feel the stirrings of my mind and fingers struggle to link thoughts to action. my thoughts, like my body thrives on conflict. grows from action. sheds rust from use. yet i allow myself to wallow in periods of disinterest. why? even the act of asking that question seems to tire me beyond reason. so i will have to limber myself with exercises long discarded by neglect. excuse the rambling nature of this post, for how can i stretch without first warming up? my mind will first have to walk before i run…but most importantly, i have felt the heat from the flame again. and the flame is in my heart, so perhaps the thoughts can join once more from the many trickles of thought into a torrent of epiphanies once again. we will see.

so one of the ppl i’ve been working with down here has been bringing out his friends for us to meet and party with. one of the girls and i spent a lot of time talking since neither of us are big into partying. she said the above quote to me after we had watched a movie on tv and then i told her i had a girlfriend back home. i apologized because i didn’t realize i had given her the idea of more happening between us, but apparently all men in el salvador expect and want more to happen. she was confused because she thought i was interested because i had spent so much time talking to her without actually hitting on her. well, long story short, i think i did hurt her somewhat because i mislead her. so instead of coming back into town after going to the beach she decided to go on a boat with some friends the next day. something happened out there, i’m not sure what, i only know the coast guard was involved. i also know that she doesn’t want to talk about it with me, or anybody for that matter. i think someone hurt her, or worse, violated her. but i don’t know for sure. i just have a feeling when i talked to her. something is wrong…and part of me feels responsible. i hope nothing happened to her, i hope i’m just blowing things out of proportion, but my scorpio intuition has rarely been wrong. especially when i have this empty sinking feeling inside…like i’m going hollow. when i talk to her, all i can hear in my head is…”not again, please, not again” i wasn’t there for K before….now it’s that same helpless feeling all over again.

i know it’s been a long time since i posted. even longer since i posted a poem. i haven’t written in a long time. i guess i’ve been so busy with life. anyways, i had the last couple of evenings to myself while i’m working here in El Salvador so i’ve been reading, drawing, and as of last night even writing. i saw a book title on my way down called “the best of men” and right away my mind jumped to “blackest of nights” maybe it’s the batman comics i’ve been reading that caused that connection. i’m not sure, but last night i put something simple to paper. i think i like how it came out. give it a read and let me know if u have any thoughts about it.

dust off my armour,
take up my sword,
reveal my honour,
swear it to my lord.

my heart is pure,
my methods were flawed,
my punishment assured,
for flaunting love’s law.

her smile infectious,
her eyes unsure,
her heart cautious
of any overture.

the dance itself was brief,
the emotions felt, pure,
whether the path end in grief,
the future is unsure.

i sought your happiness,
but my will was weak,
now your forgiveness,
is all that i seek.

once, i believed that i might
be among the best of men.
now i stand revealed,
blackest of knights.

hmmm….upon further reading it’s scattered. but still the individual stanza’s were fun to put together. guess i’m pretty rusty at this stuff.

one of my favourite pair of jeans developed a hole the last time i wore them. so i went shopping for some jeans. have you noticed that the majority of jeans are pre-stressed for style? if i want a pair of second-hand jeans i’d go to a thrift store. just give me a pair of normal jeans that i can wear on almost any occasion. amongst this frustration, i realized what a momentous occasion wearing thin my jeans to the point of a hole developing actually is. seriously, when was the last time you wore a pair of jeans to the point of it falling apart? over the age of 12 i mean. nothing really profound about this post, just an observation.

unfortunately, our culture (as it is) is based on the propagation of sin and vice. ever wonder why junk food companies make more money than health food companies? sex sells more than modesty? in almost all cases where there is a mirror opposite, the side that is “evil” is the side that makes more money. i have concluded that in order to make money, i can no longer work in the non profit sector. (i know that sounds obvious) in truth, i have decided to no longer coach gymnastics because of many factors, the least of which is that i cannot afford the things that i would like. still it does feel rather shallow on some level, but meh, nobody said i was made of stone. so the long and short of it is, after close to 3 years of my brother and sister tempting me, i will be finished coaching gym at the end of june and jump with eyes closed into the world of business. tripling my current salary not really doing anything worthwhile in society :S

it’s been awhile and things have changed as they are apt to. ah, where should i start? should i begin from my last post? or is it more appropriate to fill in the gaps of my irregular posting? should i put down the thoughts as they come pouring from my head, regardless of the rambling nature this would create? or do i succumb to the order of my mind and try to document things in order? the problems of neglect and disuse.

perhaps it is best to just ramble and allow my mind to vent as it has been quiet for so long. too long i have not allowed my mind to speak through my fingers, instead i have put it to use for work and play not allowing it even a moment to revel in the philosophical quagmire it so enjoys. like a pig rolling happily in its filth, my mind longs to languish in language, thought, and debate. that is what academia is supposed to be. not today’s version of rote thinking and systematic memorization and techniques. what good is technology and science if it takes away the freedom of thought and expression. i long for an outlet that is recognized. for an opportunity to have my thoughts assessed and analyzed, but not by a system. by another person, by something that is alive and liquid and can breathe life into the discussion at hand. in short, i miss arguing.

i miss the moment when words turn into ideas and the ideas take a life of their own. i miss the feeling of the emotions that can lie behind a word and the power that the word holds. the potential of emotion that can be invoked by the right phrase, or tone of voice, or expression. i miss the power of being able to influence thoughts. but then again, that is why i have xanga. to record what i wish. to project it where it wills itself to go. and hopefully to breathe life into words.

it has been a long time since i have laid fingers to the keyboard to type out anything for my xanga, longer still since i have typed anything of significance. perhaps it has been due to a lack of emotional distress, or maybe i have less need of sharing. nevertheless, tonight i blog because of an epiphany, or at least an insight.

i have been out of school for a couple of years now, and while i do not regret leaving my education (at least in an academic sense), i do miss the moments of debate with other sharp minds. (though in my opinion, mine is the sharpest) it is rare to find oneself debating with a book, at least out loud, but i do find moments of enlightenment from them. i have been reading patrick rothfuss’ “the name of the wind” and on the subjects of words and names i felt a moment of joy that one can only feel when they realize they share an opinion with another. mind you, it’s more like a validation of my own opinions since the one that agrees with me is published. here i mean no disrespect, but since i had the opinion before i read the opinion elsewhere, then it is the publication who agrees with me and not vice versa, regardless of the source. but, i digress.

perhaps it would be better if i started with why i feel the need to be validated. as the youngest child of a chinese family (and the first one born in canada) i have always felt like my voice is lost in the wind. perhaps it is due to the duality of my upbringing, or the baby child syndrome, but i have always felt that my insights were purer, or more correct, maybe naive would be best. regardless, the point of the matter is, one does not believe how one thinks to be wrong, maybe misunderstood, but never wrong. so it is with how i think about words, how i try to become proficient with it (to master it would be beyond conceit, although it has crossed my mind), how i attempt to distill words to their truest form. at least for myself. so it is this reason that i turn again and again back to books, for where else could i find a master of words if not from one who earns their living from it?

so when it happens that one of my ideas (and these i believe to be original because i formulate them first and not necessarily adopt them) is described in a book or used as a method of explanation, i am always thrilled and defensive at the same time. why? because i like that i am not the only one on this world who has these thoughts and it is nice to see someone else put them on paper. yet, why do i feel defensive if i am thrilled to find a kindred thought? because i do not want my idea to become corrupted by theirs. you see, by consuming their version of my idea i can’t help but incorporate the nuances and differences into mine. this hurts the evolution of my idea as much as it pushes it along. finally, it has the ability of neutralizing my idea because mine is not published. this opens the door for someone else to attack my idea by saying i got it from so and so in this or that book. so you see, just like “words are pale shadows of forgotten names.” so too are names, but snapshots of ideas in that moment.