See.

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Evernotables

I’ve been meaning to blog a real one I swear, but lately I haven’t had a chance to just sit still and write. With the school year ending, you can usually catch me on the MUNI, at a graduation, in class, or in bed (if time permits it). And some of the time you can also catch me on the phone. Yes, I’m guilty of frequenting on the phone, but only if necessary! My iPhone isn’t there for me to just text, send an email (I actually loathe sending emails on my iPhone actully) or go on Instagram, but to write my thoughts down during those moments when a lightbulb sparks and I’m nowhere near my usuals (notebook or “Eduardo,” my laptop).

So in the meantime I’ve been using Evernote, the phone app that stores your notes on your phone and syncs it directly to your web account. I, personally, LOVE this app mainly for the sole purpose of it’s quick and easy notepad feature, but also for its accessibility on any device. You can literally start writing a piece on your iPhone when you’re on the bus and finish it on your laptop when you get home.

With that said, I was looking through a few of the notes I’ve been writing in my Evernote–many of which reflect some of my thoughts these past few weeks along with some quotables I’ve stumbled upon–and thought why not share some here?

• “A real story requires a kind of magical baptism to link the world on this side with the world on the other side” (Sputnik Sweetheart, 16)
• Long distance challenges trust. Silence challenges thought.
• Recognizing your struggles, taking responsibility over your emotions, then moving forth towards an action is the journey towards a happiness.
• Make good art. Always.
• “Do it scared. Fear is one of the biggest saboteurs of our goals, because it inhibits action. The next time you feel yourself putting something off because you’re afraid–of uncertainty or failure–just ‘do it scared.’” (CNN)
• Remember the big picture.
• “Nowhere to go but the heart.” — Rumi

For my brother.

Today is a special day! Happy Happy Birthday to my Kuya! My absolute most favorite person in the whole wide world.

Magic Swords

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Today’s Run

From the nose, I inhale. From the mouth, I exhale. And all over again I feel a burn in my nostrils as if my nose is about to start bleeding. “Keep breathing. Keep pace. Keep going,” I plead as my legs begin to shake expelling all the energy it once had.

I distract myself with the pattern of my breathing and I keep moving forward as if I’m treading through waters. I only focus on the movement of my legs, my feet, and my breathing–the three things I know I’m capable of controlling. ”Smaller steps, faster strides,” I tell myself as another mile nears and I continue to feel a weakness protrude me.

From head to toe an attack of resistance slowly becomes me and for a moment nothing sounds sweeter than quitting. So I press pause on my iPod and slow down my pace giving into pain and feeling powerless. Quickly I allow this temptation to further aggravate my run and I slow my speed to jogging repelling any thought of continuing. At this point I’m nowhere near the end of my trek, and I’m ready to walk… until I hear my the sound of my breathing. The rhythm of every exhale and inhale I gather starts to calm me. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale… soon the pattern becomes a silent mantra of mine propelling me out of this trance and thrusting me into a meditation of movement.

Soon I coincide my breathing with words of encouragement and shove my iPod back into my pocket and listen. I listen as my pulse beats and my mind speaks urging me to trust that my whole body can handle this. “I’ve done this once before, I can do it again” I repeatedly tell myself as miles pass and I finally make sight of the finish line.

My 2001 Dream Timeline

A week into May and I still can’t believe how fast this year has gone. In about a month, Spring transitions into Summer and I turn 25.

Twenty-five.

Writing out that number just gave me butterflies in my stomach. The thought of me nearing my mid-twenties is.. what’s the word? Crazy. Nope, surprising? Yes, surprising because at this point in my life I thought I’d be doing something else.

When I was in 8th grade, I remember attempting to map out my life in Social Studies class. A friend of mine and I scribbled down a list of “To-Do’s” for our future, which mimicked a timeline version of the “M-A-S-H” game, except with dreams written in the margin and an age limit highlighted next to it. I was only about 13 back then, but at that age I had some serious focus. And I was fearless. A little naive, but I wasn’t scared to dream big. Every dream and every age limit I wrote down came after much thought. I knew what I wanted, when I wanted it, and I wasn’t scared to achieve it.

There were three things I remember writing down specifically:

1. Attending a college outside of California, majoring in Biology, and going to Med School at the age of 23.
2. Getting married and having kids at the age of 27.
3. Be a professional figure skater at the age of 20.

Unfortunately, which is everything I never achieved.

In fact I think the closest I came to achieving any of them was #3: the figure skating one. I swear, if I never badly injured my knee and lost my Russian coach, I bet I would’ve be the next Michelle Kwan! haha. But I’ll save that for another post. All jokes aside THAT list above was truly what I’d like to call my “dream timeline”– my life mapped out and ready to go…

That is until reality hit and I stopped making lists to timeline my future.

My dreams have tremendously shifted since then. First, I never ended up going to school outside of California. When I was 16, I remember talking to my mentor and almost applying to the University of Washington as a pre-med student. But the more I thought about those rainy days and that time away from home, I knew I wasn’t ready yet and opted out. Instead, I applied to a school 45mins away from home and applied as an Undeclared Science major against my mentor’s– also my AP English teacher–advice. At that time I was falling in love with everything in her class: literature, writing, and vocab that it deemed ridiculous for me to apply as a pre-med student. But as foolish as I was, I stuck to my 8th grade list and I believed I was going to Med School right after college. But of course, the opposite happened. In my first year of college, I quickly discovered my disinterest in Biology and almost failed out of my University. This was the first moment, I realized maybe I should have listen to my heart instead of a handwritten timeline.

The second moment happened about three years ago when someone kinda broke my heart and everything in my world crashed. At least that’s how it felt. I’m not sure if I loved this person, not even sure if what I was feeling was right, but at that time it was real. And nothing else in the world mattered. He was the center of my attention and my priority above everything else I loved. So much so, I never wanted to do anything without him. But once the tide turned and things didn’t end up working out, I crumbled. And I found myself as lost as ever. I had lost months and time by myself that when I wasn’t with him, I didn’t know what I wanted or where I wanted to go anymore. I was alone again and I didn’t know how to be alone. But now I know all of that was necessary because I’ve never been this happy with myself in a long time. I love myself more than I did when I was with anyone. And I love myself more now knowing that I have the strength, the capacity, and the patience to live this life independently.

So as I’m nearing 25, I’m in no rush. According to my dream timeline 27 is the year to get married and start a family. But by the looks of it that might not happen YET, especially with all the dreams I’m constantly creating, the traveling I still want to accomplish, and the person I’m still striving to become. It makes 27 look a lot different.

And I’m more than okay with that.

With everything that’s happened these past few years, I realize life can’t be forced, a timeline can’t be implemented, and my dreams keep getting bigger. And that’s what my life is for. Life is filled with unexpected, unplanned, and ambiguous moments, moments that have lead me to much more beautiful things. All of which I could have never planned or dreamed of on my own. No blueprint, no list, no timeline could ever replace the the people I’ve met, the experiences, and the stories I’ve endured off paper. If anything I am grateful to have strayed away from whom I planned to become, and instead have become a better person I never initially planned to be 12 years ago.

Cup, cake, and work

Last night the city had some massive lightning and rain. It’s been a while since we’ve had any kind of heavy weather like that, so watching lightning strike through our Spruce kitchen windows served more as a spectacle than a real danger. But as San Francisco weather usually is, it’s unpredictable.Today the sun is shining bright with no indication of last night’s stormy weather. The only remnants of last night is the cold wind, so as I stepped out of my house with layers in hand I told myself I would take advantage of this good (and bipolar) weather before my train ride home. So here I am writing at my nearby coffee shop, a place I used to get most of my work done if I didn’t want to bus it too far or stay on campus. This spot helped me get a lot finished. It’s where I wrote one of my last articles for Journalism class and one of the very places I used to conduct my phone interviews. It was a place I usually hid in for some time alone basically. So now that I’m here I’m trying to get the same effect going.

There’s a lot on my plate this weekend. A lot of catching up to do with resume writing, lesson planning, and grading–all things I probably should have completed a week ago, so working at this coffee shop illustrates a hope for a head start to my workload.

—

p.s. Am I the only person who hasn’t read Hunger Games yet?

I’m still learning…

What they taught me last night (4/11/12):

• It’s okay to cry, even if you cry in front of 10 people who have never seen you do so. These people are your community, and they’re your family. They’re here to help not judge you. Your tears are their tears, your burdens become their burdens, and it’s nothing to be fearful or ashamed of. It’s something to be embraced and shared.
• A teacher and student relationship is just that–a relationship. It has it’s ups and downs, its own struggles and fights, but no matter what it still revolves around love and growth together beyond a classroom.
• Be open and communicate. Be vulnerable and let go. And gather strength and comfort from your team. You’re never alone in a healing process.

Drafts to Publish

The past few days I’ve been contemplating on what I want to write about next. Whether I should delve into an article, publish an old draft, or just write a poem; I’ve been jotting down bullet points in my notebook about topics I want to share with folks, which is the first time in a long time I’m doing so. This feeling of wanting to write or needing to hasn’t happened since I first declared Journalism as my minor. I’ve been longing to feel this way for quite some time and so now that I’m here, I’m ready to pull the trigger.

My first step has been revisiting my pieces left in the drafts section of this blog. There’s a lot I’ve left untouched, unfinished, and unedited. For some reason I haven’t got around to finishing several of them, so I’m making it my duty to filter them out and publish, publish, publish.

Next, I’m trying to outreach to other writers and independent magazines. What I’ve noticed is that since 12ftDwende has been on hiatus, I’ve strayed away from journalism completely. My focus has been on teaching and other aspects of my writing, that it’s crazy to realize it’s been a year since I’ve actually written an article. When in my past, I used to write 5-7 articles a week, and doing that irritated me. But now I miss that. I miss being a reporter.

There’s this thrill only a journalist gets when researching for a story, interviewing an artist, and then writing about that whole experience for others to feel and grasp. I miss interacting with passionate people who tell me their story, cause that’s what made me gravitate towards journalism to begin with. It was never because I wanted to write for a newspaper or become a television news anchor, I chose Journalism in college, because I wanted to be a storyteller. I wanted to tell stories of triumph, of heartache, of injustice, of action, of creation, of passion, of hope, and of new innovations. I wanted to tell stories about folks who are making a difference in this world, in hopes I’d be doing to same through my writing. That’s why I chose journalism, because despite what folks might think, journalists are here to be storytellers. That’s their job, aside from revealing a “truth.” It’s a journalist’s job to initiate feelings, not just news towards a subject. I believe it’s a journalist’s duty to utilize their writing as as a tool to open a dialogue, to challenge the injustices of the world, to make a change, to give voice, but to above all tell a story that deserves to be told.  And to do so to the best of their ability.

That’s what I miss most about writing right now–is being a journalist.

The Road to the Stanley Cup… again

That’s it folks. Put your shaving cream away and razor away and start growing them playoff beards…  the San Jose Sharks are headed to the Stanley Cup Playoffs! Tonight the Sharks BEAT the LA Kings twice in an intense 2-game series that ended the regular season. Now my boys have clinched the 7th position making our match up official–St. Louis Blues. Go Sharks!