“Manifesting clear what I want, and not settling for anything less than that.” – Maryam Hasnaa, from the Friend Zone podcast episode: “Keep That Same Energy”
I feel blessed to begin 2019 this way.
on the eve of Christmas, I’m here at a coffee shop plotting my next move. in true fashion, I am back home. and I have been doing only the following since I’ve been here:
it’s been a great feeling to do all the aforementioned without the need to go to work or worry about a student’s college applications. and honestly, it’s been nice to be home and to slow down before the year ends. though I still have my urges to travel, run errands, and maneuver through the suburbs in a forceful habit of treating it like the city, I’m slowly learning how to remain calm and patient — and most importantly — learning how to stay put.
my kuya’s teaching me that.
he has been the most patient and mindful individual I’ve had in my life since day one. and these holidays are no different. since my kuya is renting a house in Cupertino, his home has truly created a larger Home for my family and I in theory. we haven’t had a place we could all comfortably share space in since I went off to college. I can’t remember the last time we were able to share a meal sitting at the dinner table or a place we could call our own, even if it is just to watch the Warriors or Sharks on TV.
so last night was hella, hella special for us. It was my mom’s birthday, the Eve, Eve of Christmas and her only request was to eat chow mein on her birthday and to be surrounded by my dad, kuya, and I. my brother took that request to heart. we decorated the house with a Christmas tree we bought in the beginning of *December and went to a hole in the wall Chinese food spot that reminded us of the one we grew up with and set up the house for my mom and dad to come by for dinner.
what seemed like such a small act meant the world for my dad and mom. we all haven’t been able to celebrate birthdays, celebrate each other, celebrate life with one another for over 10 years. last night all of our hardships and challenges left, and we were in each other’s company laughing and truly living like there was no worry in the whole world. we ate in peace, something we take for granted each day. we pampered my mom with gifts and cake. and we gave our parents an impromptu anniversary photo shoot in front of the tree. it was beautiful, and beyond anything I’ve ever imagined could happen again.
for that, this year’s holidays have been special already and it’s not exactly Christmas yet. all I ever wanted for my parents was this: a home to share, laugh, and be comfortable in. their joy is what i work for every day and for that to happen last night for that moment, makes these holidays the best one yet.
happy bday, Ma. merry xmas, Pa. we love you. and you both will always deserve the world.
[draft]
*something we haven’t done since we were kids and one of the only things my mom has ever wanted every Christmas since we lost our home
I remember growing up Thanksgiving signaled an ice hockey tournament in either Sacramento, Los Angeles, or at the nearby rink. my family and I spent it in a cold arena with other families screaming at every play and warming ourselves up with hot chocolate from the vending machine near the stands. we were surrounded by other families too, who bought snacks and food from the gas station nearby. who never had turkey but a good road trip to a championship. this is what my Thanksgiving looked like until I was about 15 or 16 years old — a Filipino family surrounded by their love for each other and the game of ice hockey. plus no clue that Thanksgiving was any form of a holiday.
now fast forward to the present. my kuya and I are now in our thirties and today’s holiday among our extended families are slim. it’s often spent with just my parents, and my cousin who’s basically our sibling. it’s relaxed, it’s small, and it’s spent with a modest collection of our favorite dishes. it’s about the simplicity of presence and the time with one another. it is humble, and never flashy. in fact, as I type this, my dad is cooking sopas (my favorite of his and a recipe passed down from my Nanay), my mom is sitting on the couch listening to Christmas music my dad’s collected and played every year since I can remember. as she listens with her eyes closed, and my dad cooks in the kitchen, I’m waiting for my kuya to come over so we can have dinner with our small family. it’s a small gesture, but it means the world to me.
I am grateful, super grateful to be home this year.
our harsh truths
line our lips with words
crucial and critical
to the verbatim of fear
of resentment
of understanding
of healing
ringing verbatim
moving in circles
repeatedly
we shed parts
of ourselves
through sharp tongues
defending ourselves
in ways that reveal
we are
in search of hope
that will manifest
into action
into growth
into light
into fruits
I am learning that the more I try to hold onto the idea of you, the more we are distant
I am learning that I need to focus on myself — in all forms: physical, mental, and emotional
I am learning that if we are going to make this work, we need to put in the work on both ends
I am learning that the more I try to communicate to you, the more I turn back to writing
I am learning that to survive this city with you, I need to keep at my own pace (time and space)
I am learning that sometimes I am best on my own
I am learning that the way you and I love and the way we show care are in different forms, and that’s okay
And I am learning that actually, all of the above is okay, as long as you meet me halfway
As long as we keep trying
My goal this week is to find balance between work, writing, & commuting. I realize I have to stop blaming time and space for my feeling misaligned. In an ideal world, this is what I’m aiming for… give or take, it’s a schedule I’m trying to make happen. Wish me luck.
repeat.
Working with close minded folks who prove to have different teaching pedagogies is becoming the biggest challenge of my Summer. We’re all here to educate, nurture, and help these young people grow. We’re all here to help them realize their potential. Now if our lessons don’t allow them to do so, we’re not doing our part as educators.
Not exactly sure what I’m thinking.
I just know I’m feeling.
And I’m moving.
In my heart.
And my mind.
At a fast pace.
The 2:06am track.
I am in love with the work that I do, but the work that I do ain’t easy.
XII 