Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Breathe
Pour yourself onto me like smooth river jazz. I want to feel that hungry, rising, moonlit burning. The roar in my ears cry mercy mercy, our fingertips and breath beat a heated churning. Drown me in your deep, velvet linger. Settle soft into the secrets of my every aching fury. Let's harmonize the dusk away and let our fingers dance this tangled yearning. Dare me to trust you with every raw murmur, until I'm broken and lost in every trembling moment. Let's bring this to a close, the pulsing silence a beating rhythm, heart on my sleeve and brush of your lips, honesty tears apart those quiet fears, scattering moonlight across my horizon, I will chase you and taste of that deep, velvet linger until you've captivated me soul by artful soul, and I'll show you a world where we'll discover together the mysteries deep of a scarlet passion and a familiar purpose.
Parody
I feel like my life, since youth, has slowly evolved to exist as a mockery of the cultures, society, circumstances I see around me. Perhaps partly protection, I've learned to build a wall of superficial excellence that boasts so greatly of itself, delicately intertwining just the right touches of false humility here, a twist of righteous indignation there, and a dose of quiet pride to produce just the right mix of a believeable, impenetrable persona dedicated to both proclaiming a deep, ironic disastisfaction with the values of the world around me, and to shelter and lock in the core Self that I cannot let go of, no matter how often I try.
Perhaps it's cowardice to try to deny yourself, but without ever knowing cowardice one cannot rise up and taste courage. I've learned a hard lesson that everyone falls, and reliability does not mean excellence in success. Reliability (for myself and others) means the strength to get up and fight on.
When I was young, I spent most of my time reading through school, through home, through play. I've always believed that my most influential teachers weren't the ones I had at school, but rather my parents and the values they held that differed from traditional Chinese ideals, and the many authors whose stories and "souls" I read. When an author writes, I believe every part is such an integral reflection of that author's hopes and dreams and fears that the reader has an intimate connection with the author no one else will ever experience. I grew up learning about honor and respect from all the King Arthur tales, from Robin Hood, from Ivanhoe. I discovered the triumph of passion in tales of Hercules, Theseus, Perseus. Courage from Louis La'mour. Responsibility from Dumas. Perceptiveness from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Even adventure from the Hardy boys.
All this introverted speculation grew within me an almost unstoppable, constant self-perceptiveness that I could not turn off, and this in turn led me to realize just how deeply I differed from most people in the world around me. I've always had a desire to be led, to be taught about the nuances of life I saw in other people, and never realized that in this life we don't always get role models or teachers that will reach out to us. Instead, over the years as I saw the gap between my own values and ideals grow from those of other people around me, I learned to wall myself up behind the greatest mockeries I could see.
Everyone is scared of not fitting in, scared of being alone. Everyone has a desire to belong, but for some reason as much as I wanted to I could not let go of "Me." So instead, I hid it. I saw all the values and ideals that people around me believed in, that people believed about me and I became it in the most shallow, absolute sense. Somewhere over the past few years, I've almost forgotten that this is a coat I've put on, I've let others put upon me. I'm an actor living the greatest parody, one born of both fear and sarcasm.
Recently, as I grow older and (hopefully) more responsible, I've learned some hard lessons. No one is going to come along and lead me, and I can either wait around in fear, unwilling to take the responsiblity of my own life upon my shoulders, or I can find the courage to believe in my own values and uphold them against the perceptions of others.
Someone asked me not too long ago why I'm always "protecting" others. I didn't quite know how to answer at that point, (partly because I was a bit drunk) but that question has stuck in my head for a while. It's not because I need to be in charge, I dont like being in charge. It's not because I like being the hero, even though I do, because I would be fine if someone else was taking care of everything well. My friends think it's because I want to be a gentleman, be the "Man," but frankly I don't really give a damn about that. And after thinking for a long while I finally remembered why I always feel this need. I know what it's like to be left out, to be the quiet one in the corner. Most people don't believe I've ever been that, but I remember that so strongly. I know what it's like to LEAVE someone out; ashamedly I've done that enough times to brand that into my heart. I try my best to "protect" because I don't want the quiet people, the ones who may not have the confidence to be in the spotlight to be left out of anything. Most people don't see them, or if they do they ignore them. People always see the result, few ever question the motivations. And why don't I let people "protect" me? Well, I don't think I trust anyone enough to.
Incomplete thoughts.
Perhaps it's cowardice to try to deny yourself, but without ever knowing cowardice one cannot rise up and taste courage. I've learned a hard lesson that everyone falls, and reliability does not mean excellence in success. Reliability (for myself and others) means the strength to get up and fight on.
When I was young, I spent most of my time reading through school, through home, through play. I've always believed that my most influential teachers weren't the ones I had at school, but rather my parents and the values they held that differed from traditional Chinese ideals, and the many authors whose stories and "souls" I read. When an author writes, I believe every part is such an integral reflection of that author's hopes and dreams and fears that the reader has an intimate connection with the author no one else will ever experience. I grew up learning about honor and respect from all the King Arthur tales, from Robin Hood, from Ivanhoe. I discovered the triumph of passion in tales of Hercules, Theseus, Perseus. Courage from Louis La'mour. Responsibility from Dumas. Perceptiveness from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Even adventure from the Hardy boys.
All this introverted speculation grew within me an almost unstoppable, constant self-perceptiveness that I could not turn off, and this in turn led me to realize just how deeply I differed from most people in the world around me. I've always had a desire to be led, to be taught about the nuances of life I saw in other people, and never realized that in this life we don't always get role models or teachers that will reach out to us. Instead, over the years as I saw the gap between my own values and ideals grow from those of other people around me, I learned to wall myself up behind the greatest mockeries I could see.
Everyone is scared of not fitting in, scared of being alone. Everyone has a desire to belong, but for some reason as much as I wanted to I could not let go of "Me." So instead, I hid it. I saw all the values and ideals that people around me believed in, that people believed about me and I became it in the most shallow, absolute sense. Somewhere over the past few years, I've almost forgotten that this is a coat I've put on, I've let others put upon me. I'm an actor living the greatest parody, one born of both fear and sarcasm.
Recently, as I grow older and (hopefully) more responsible, I've learned some hard lessons. No one is going to come along and lead me, and I can either wait around in fear, unwilling to take the responsiblity of my own life upon my shoulders, or I can find the courage to believe in my own values and uphold them against the perceptions of others.
Someone asked me not too long ago why I'm always "protecting" others. I didn't quite know how to answer at that point, (partly because I was a bit drunk) but that question has stuck in my head for a while. It's not because I need to be in charge, I dont like being in charge. It's not because I like being the hero, even though I do, because I would be fine if someone else was taking care of everything well. My friends think it's because I want to be a gentleman, be the "Man," but frankly I don't really give a damn about that. And after thinking for a long while I finally remembered why I always feel this need. I know what it's like to be left out, to be the quiet one in the corner. Most people don't believe I've ever been that, but I remember that so strongly. I know what it's like to LEAVE someone out; ashamedly I've done that enough times to brand that into my heart. I try my best to "protect" because I don't want the quiet people, the ones who may not have the confidence to be in the spotlight to be left out of anything. Most people don't see them, or if they do they ignore them. People always see the result, few ever question the motivations. And why don't I let people "protect" me? Well, I don't think I trust anyone enough to.
Incomplete thoughts.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Time
It’s contemporary, conflicting, a multitude of perceptions weighing you down begging for comprehension. Where do you go from here? "We’re all beggars simply telling other beggars where we found bread." The game is easy to play, cajoling and tainting, an ecstasy of personality. I miss the simple days, I miss the simple dreams. Those hopes clipped now, wings dropped and hearts lost. I miss soul. Soul flowing, soul filling, soul lifting, soul escaping. Cast aside the shallow tremors that break us apart. I am that book with a different cover.
Judge and rip those assumptions from clarity. Leatherbound and weathered pages. I am that book with a different cover.
Judge and rip those assumptions from clarity. Leatherbound and weathered pages. I am that book with a different cover.
Friday, May 15, 2009
"Bucket" list
As I sit here, dying painfully and slowly from affliction-by-grey-cubicle, my heart darts out to different experiences and adventures that (sometimes) I just...crave. This is a "bucket" list of sorts, not necessarily to accomplish before I die (hopefully), but perhaps to experience in the next year!
1. Learn to hangglide, buy the equipment, get a license, take a friend with me. - $500
2. Sit in an empty parking lot in Crystal Cove on a Sunday, paint a sunset with watercolor and acrylics
3. Take pictures of all the different restaurants I go to, all the different foods I eat
4. Make a cookbook of my favorite recipes
5. Do some serious spelunking
6. Join a good boxing gym
7. Be able to rockclimb with minimal equipment
8. Cook a fabulous 4 course French meal with a goat cheese tart, blackberry currant champagne.
9. Climb Halfdome.
10. Take someone on the most innovative, fun picnic ever.
11. Get better at salsa and tango, go to clubs more often.
12. Get my license and a motorcycle - a few thousand $.
13. Throw a masquerade party for friends.
14. Fly a falcon.
15. Watch the Lion King musical.
16. Go salsa dancing in Spain, sip coffee in France, watch the stars in Greece, and drive on the Autobon.
17. Get two huskie-mix dogs.
18. One more tattoo
19. Learn to sail
20. Start a bookclub. - This is slowly, but steadily underway!
Maybe in the next few years.
1. Learn to hangglide, buy the equipment, get a license, take a friend with me. - $500
2. Sit in an empty parking lot in Crystal Cove on a Sunday, paint a sunset with watercolor and acrylics
3. Take pictures of all the different restaurants I go to, all the different foods I eat
4. Make a cookbook of my favorite recipes
5. Do some serious spelunking
6. Join a good boxing gym
7. Be able to rockclimb with minimal equipment
8. Cook a fabulous 4 course French meal with a goat cheese tart, blackberry currant champagne.
9. Climb Halfdome.
10. Take someone on the most innovative, fun picnic ever.
11. Get better at salsa and tango, go to clubs more often.
12. Get my license and a motorcycle - a few thousand $.
13. Throw a masquerade party for friends.
14. Fly a falcon.
15. Watch the Lion King musical.
16. Go salsa dancing in Spain, sip coffee in France, watch the stars in Greece, and drive on the Autobon.
17. Get two huskie-mix dogs.
18. One more tattoo
19. Learn to sail
20. Start a bookclub. - This is slowly, but steadily underway!
Maybe in the next few years.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Ever-living
I wonder if most people realize when they are making choices and decisions based upon fears and insecurities, when they are using logic or passion or reason as an excuse to turn away from a introspective clarity of self. There's a certain perverse pleasure in giving into fear, to the shedding of responsiblity from our shoulders and eliminating the possiblity of failure. That pleasure almost tastes sickly-sweet, an addiction that we grow more dependant upon because of its simple familiarity. I don't believe anyone ever truly enjoys taking the safe road, it is only a question of which takes greater credence: the courage to hope and have faith, or the fear of making perceived unforgivable mistakes.
And if anyone ever does realize when they choose the easy, safe way out because of fear, do they ever learn to stop themselves?
There's a joy, a beauty to risking our faith. Faith does not exist for us to hold onto, for us to clasp preciously to our hearts and covet like a treasured jewel, murmuring empty words of contentment and praise. Faith exists for us to use, to taste, to hear and to sing. Faith exists for us to throw out into the wild unknown, trusting that it will not return to us but instead carry us along with it. That is a living faith, a breathing faith, that is Praise in its greatest beauty. It's a wild, passionate journey that will break and encourage and temper and refine our hearts; it is a choice that may not always taste sweet, but will always be clean.
And if anyone ever does realize when they choose the easy, safe way out because of fear, do they ever learn to stop themselves?
There's a joy, a beauty to risking our faith. Faith does not exist for us to hold onto, for us to clasp preciously to our hearts and covet like a treasured jewel, murmuring empty words of contentment and praise. Faith exists for us to use, to taste, to hear and to sing. Faith exists for us to throw out into the wild unknown, trusting that it will not return to us but instead carry us along with it. That is a living faith, a breathing faith, that is Praise in its greatest beauty. It's a wild, passionate journey that will break and encourage and temper and refine our hearts; it is a choice that may not always taste sweet, but will always be clean.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Catch up
I haven't posted food pics in a while, but there's been cooking going on. Some things to catch up on in the past few months. I really need to get some sort of decent camera.
Creamy penne pasta with prosciutto, crimini mushrooms and basil
BBQ one afternoon with friends:
Special, impromptu tri-tip marinade. I don't really remember everything that went in here but there was a good amount of Jack D and pineapple juice and teriyaki.
Kielbasa, bacon wrapped green onions, tri-tip kabobs
Infamous, mouth-watering, heart clogging bacon-wrapped green onions
Marinated tri-tip with roasted red onions, mushrooms and bell peppers
Another meal: Grilled chicken panini on sourdough with roasted red peppers, caramelized onions, swiss cheese, arugula and roasted-garlic dijon aioli. Also Israeli couscous with sweet potato, shallots, and pumpkin butter.
Baked spinach and sausage ziti with tomatoes and parmesan
Garlic shrimp-stuffed mushrooms
Oh baby, mochiko chicken. Cooked 15 lbs of it.
Desserts: Homemade chocolate ganache, chocolate croissants courtesy of Pillsbury
My pineapple cake!
Fresh blueberry coffee cake
Simple Lemon Icebox Pie
Homemade dark-chocolate brownies, homemade hot fudge, Trader Joe's Vanilla icecream
From a mix, but still mention-worthy. 5lbs of Almond Jello
Doesn't look like much, but my favorite creme brulee thus far: An espresso-coffee creme brulee.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Friday, May 1, 2009
Vision
When I close my eyes this is what I see:
A large, circular, white sandstone fountain, its edges veined with aging cracks and clouds of dust that perpetually settle upon its surface. It is in the center of a much used marketplace, surrounded by wooden stalls and the distant murmur of life fading in and out of the background, filled with a beautiful, sky-blue water that lightly gurgles as the peaceful reflection of distant clouds on its face ripples outwards. The sun is a bright, constant reminder of the midday life surrounding me, reflecting off the rough, sandstone edges of this large fountain I'm standing next to. I can almost hear the sound of bells tinkling, and faintly feel the pleasure and heady joy of life beating around me with an almost tangible, undeniable vitality. Nothing has ever felt so real, yet the only thing that matters in this instant is that it is here that You meet me, the two of us standing face to face in front of this weathered, white fountain in the midst of the marketplace. My head is always bowed a little low, and Your eyes are always looking at me with patient encouragement as if You know where my next step lies, and are but waiting for the joy and pride of seeing me discover it for myself. I see you, dusty and weathered, warm and comfortable, Courage and Peace.
A large, circular, white sandstone fountain, its edges veined with aging cracks and clouds of dust that perpetually settle upon its surface. It is in the center of a much used marketplace, surrounded by wooden stalls and the distant murmur of life fading in and out of the background, filled with a beautiful, sky-blue water that lightly gurgles as the peaceful reflection of distant clouds on its face ripples outwards. The sun is a bright, constant reminder of the midday life surrounding me, reflecting off the rough, sandstone edges of this large fountain I'm standing next to. I can almost hear the sound of bells tinkling, and faintly feel the pleasure and heady joy of life beating around me with an almost tangible, undeniable vitality. Nothing has ever felt so real, yet the only thing that matters in this instant is that it is here that You meet me, the two of us standing face to face in front of this weathered, white fountain in the midst of the marketplace. My head is always bowed a little low, and Your eyes are always looking at me with patient encouragement as if You know where my next step lies, and are but waiting for the joy and pride of seeing me discover it for myself. I see you, dusty and weathered, warm and comfortable, Courage and Peace.
Talking to a good friend
I was talking to a good friend not too long ago, and as I am very much a "spontaneous" kind of person I usually do my best thinking in the midst of random conversations. As I was telling my friend, lately life has been putting me through a lot of changes, some exhilarating some depressing, others daunting and humbling. While all this is going on, I realize that I've never been in such a state of confusion about myself and the purpose of my existence as I am now. All my life I've been fairly confident about my choices, my decisions, my outlook on life (whether directionless or not), for the first time I discover that I'm not sure about certain issues concerning myself. The ironic beauty of it is I'm finding that I'm more confident and purposeful about my confusion, or perhaps in the midst of my confusion than I was in living out my certainty. Maybe it comes down to the simple idea of fear; before I was so sure of who I was and what I wanted I didn't want to lose that knowledge, while now that I am unsure about myself, I feel as I am about to embark on a journey, armed with nothing more than the values and ideals that God has given me in the deepest corners of my Self, ideals that have been tempered and honed through countless trials of doubt and regret. It sends tingles down my spine and excitement coursing through me to envision what self-discovery awaits, there are few things far more satisfying than cementing your own ideals and being able to stand upon them knowing the reason, the motivation for who you are, and breathing that passion to live your Life.
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