Neurotic Honesty

Lately I have noticed that I am having difficulties with censoring what comes out of my mouth.  Yes, I often suffer from a severe case of Acute Social Sarcasm, or A. S. S.

It all started when I was much younger and I was classified as a Little Severely Honest Innocent Toddler.  I don't think that I really need to spell that out for you...  Apparently when honesty comes from a toddler, it's "cute";  but when it comes from an adult, well, that's just rude.  Ironic!

Actually what's ironic is that I don't single anyone out.  No one can say that I'm a racist or sexist.  I'm intolerant of all types of arrogant idiots alike.  If this offends you, you might want to re-read what I just wrote.

I have found that the severity of my ability for censorship is more apparent when I'm around people that I don't know or people that I don't like.  This is why I have developed a relaxing exercise that I call Transcendental Fishing.  This is where I travel to a remote area with a large body of water and I contemplate about drinking and fishing in peace; while I drink a case of Samuel Adams and fish in peace.  For those interested, I am selling self study kits for $50.  You just need to supply your own drink, fishing equipment and large body of water.

State of Numb

Is this what life is really all about?  Going in day in and day out to a place called "work" just so we can have the privilege of making sure we are able to keep our basic necessities available.  Those basic necessities that should be inherent rights of each individual in order to survive - food, clothing and shelter.

If these are "basic necessities" that each person needs in order to stay alive, why do we have to pay for them?  Is it at all right that people suffer or die because they can't afford these basic necessities?  Is it "is what it is..." and that we should be thankful for what we have as long as we aren't the ones hungry and cold?

Lately, I have felt numb because I continually jump on and off the treadmill called "work" or "job" without having any emotional fulfillment or sense of purpose.  All because of the fear of losing the privilege of continually receiving those basic necessities each day; but mostly because of losing peace at home.

I am tired and I'm ready to get off the treadmill.  The only question is will I be conscious or alive to find out?

It's always easy to see the way out when we're outside looking in and yet can be really blinding the other way.  "Why don't you just open the door and walk through?" or "Why don't you just take a leap of faith?"  The truth is that I'm scared.  I am fearful because I have been conditioned for a long time that I would lose the financial ability to secure the basic necessities for me and my wife if I were to lose my job.  I am fearful that losing the level of comfort that we have come to know would eventually tear our marriage apart.  I am fearful that without access to our basic necessities, one or both of us would get so ill and that we wouldn't have the resources to seek help.

I am numb and I'm concerned that it will get to a point that I would be forced into making a wrong "spare of the moment" decision.  I am numb and I don't want to be in this state any longer.

Breaking traditions

Alas, another year over and a new one has begun.  While others are gearing up for new resolutions, I'm on track for breaking traditions.  Starting with the way I greeted the new year.

In years past, ever since I've had consciousness of time, I've always stayed up to ring in the new year because someone once told me that whatever I was doing at the stoke of midnight will be indicative of what I would be doing for the rest of the year.  After all these years I finally figured it out...  THEY LIED!

After 51 years of the same tradition of staying up cooking, baking, wood working, playing games on the computer, playing guitar, photographing anything that moved,and even doodling for what most people would consider intricately abstract art; I went to bed an hour prior to midnight.  Much to my amazement, the world didn't end and the birds were even singing, albeit they were singing "Why don't we do it on the road."

This year is the year that I break traditions.  The word for this year is "Change", a much more metamorphic definition than the loose coins in my pocket.  I woke up the next day and Didi and I didn't have anyone come over to watch the parade; and that meant no need to fix a large breakfast as in past years.  No Frittatta with oven roasted maple-glazed bacon and breakfast sausages, French toast with strawberry coulee and whipped cream, and hash brown cakes.  Instead it was a quiet morning with Didi and light breakfast of eggs over medium and pan rendered bacon.

Ah yes, this is the year indeed for breaking traditions and I welcome this change and where ever this decision takes me.  May this year bring you all that you expect whether you are starting a new resolution or breaking traditions.  And above all, may this year bring you the happiness that the greeting claims.  Happy New Year, everyone!

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The thing about growing old

Recently it's getting more and more apparent to me that my body is aging. I never paid too much attention to this notion in the past and really just took it all for granted. But lately I've started to notice indications of aging starting with my vision.

About a month or so ago, I started noticing what looked like dirt floating around in my right eye. Just as I would in the past, I rinsed out my right eye with lukewarm running water. This time, I couldn't seem to flush it out with this method. I then told my wife and she suggested that I go see the eye doctor about it, which was a coincidence since I hadn't gone to the eye doctor for several years prior.

At the doctors' office, I learned that this foreign object debris (or fob as they referred to it in the military) is called "floaters" which are actually inside the ball of the eyes. They are natural gelatin that holds the retina to the back of our eyes and it is common that some pieces detach through aging. The doctor asked me how many I'm seeing and I told him only one (that I can see). He said that it was normal at my age and not be concerned but to let him know if I start seeing more floaters or some dark areas in my vision. I envisioned my eye to pop out of its socket or perhaps develop into Homer Simpson eye as it worsens. I asked him if I was going to live and he just looked at me with the same look most people give when they see someone walking down the street talking to themselves. I took that to mean, "Yes, you crazy lunatic!"

Looking back, I would admit that the notion of getting old started when I was about 18 years old. That was the year that AARP sent me my first membership application. It was addressed to Ms. Samuel Paano and I thought, "Look at that, not only am I old, I also changed gender..." I thought perhaps they made a mistake and delivered it to the wrong house but the more I pondered, the more I realized that it was too uncanny that there would be a female member in the same house that I lived in with the same first and last name as mine. I started to worry and that was the beginning in the decline of my brain cells' generation. Unknowingly, this is when I started aging.

Little by little, events started to develop that would continually increase the rapid decline of my body. One of these events is the day that I stood in front of the mirror after showering and noticed that I had grown hair inside my nose. Okay, I knew that we all have hair in our noses to filter out the dirt as we inhale. What made me notice it during this particular time is that the hair had started to protrude past the opening of my nose. Not really knowing what the protocol is for this type of situation, I took out my nail clipper and started weeding; much like I was trimming the weeds on our lawn with garden shears. I felt relieved only to find my nose hairs had grown back to the same length a week later. Since then, I found myself trimming nose hairs almost on a weekly basis which is about three quarters times more than going to the barber shop to get my hair cut. My nose hairs are growing faster than the hair on my head. As a matter of fact, I'm losing hair on top and gaining it inside my nose. I have then come to the conclusion that my hair might be planted upside down and I suspect that the doctor who delivered me might have overlooked this birth defect which is why it was left uncorrected.

Another recent revelation that brought to light this awareness of aging is that I find myself getting tired quicker. So much so that I find it necessary to take naps during the day, and I am perfectly fine with it! As a matter of fact, I look forward to a good afternoon napping whenever and where ever I am. In some parts of the world, it is customary to nap during the day - I believe they call it "siestas". Sadly this practice is not well adapted here in the United States but perhaps we should. If we did, we probably wouldn't have as many irritated jack asses roaming the streets. I believe that lack of daytime napping cause people to dream up of mass hysteria and panic people with conspiracies about "weapons of mass destruction" from all those "evil doers"; because as we all know that's why we have Batman and Robin!

Now just before I turned 50, I received my AARP membership card in the mail. It was odd receiving it because I didn't send the application in nor did I submit anything online. Somehow, I think AARP is a branch of the FBI or the CIA because they are quite aware of when you're ready to become a member without your knowledge. I saw this as a benefit rather than a travesty of my situation. I can now perhaps take advantage of those senior citizen discounts even at an early age of 50. I can use it in bars and drinking establishments when they ask to see my ID (when I ask for the SC discount, that is). Instead of taking out my driver's license, I can now whip out my AARP card and be served discounted drinks with no hassle.

With this awareness, I have come to learn a great deal about old age. You see, the thing about growing old is that it is both a challenge and an opportunity. Getting old can either be crippling or it can be a good argument for negotiations. I'm reminded of a technique that an old friend of mine used to use. Whenever he received a refusal for any offer, he would just lean over to the person and say gently and without malice, "Now, you know that I'm an old man and my heart isn't quite what it used to be; and if you say 'no' to my offer, well I'm not entirely certain of how my weak heart would take it..." Needless to say, he always got his way.

... And now it's time for my nap so go away! Shut the door on your way out...

Turn the page already!...

10:36 p.m. on a Friday night. I can't believe the time is so near and my whole being seems to wait for it in anticipation. It's been a long time coming but I really haven't given it much thought until now.

This month, and most especially this year, marks two major milestones that I'm quite proud of. At 12:01 a.m. (just about an hour and a half from now), I will turn 50 which seems so surreal. It seems like it was just a couple of days ago that I turned 21.

I actually remember where exactly I was when I turned 21 - Las Vegas, baby! Yes, I was hanging out with high rollers, showgirls, bar maids, and blackjack dealers... My aunts, uncles, and grandma took me there to celebrate my birthday and it was amazing. As I opened the door to go into Caesar's Palace, I visualized the symbolism of metamorphosing from childhood to adulthood. I was now inducted into the mature world of adult entertainment and there was no turning back.

30 and 40 are a little bit of a blur now, probably because of senility setting in, or perhaps not quite as memorable as 21. That's alright, 16 and 18 memories are now completely wiped away from my memory banks.

My Uncle Romulo once told me that our head is nothing more than an empty storage room with two doors. One door remains open so as to let information in, while the other door remains closed and locked to help retain the information. The problem is that as we get older and as we gain more information, somehow the storage room gets really filled up. Eventually, there's too many information being cramped in such a small space that the pressure starts to put stress on the closed door until it finally gives way. As we pile in more information, some of the old information gets pushed out of the other door, and that's why we start to forget. I'm afraid that some of the information that fell out of my storage room also took some common sense with them...

So tonight is my last night of my fourth decade. It feels like it ought to be a right of passage, and perhaps it is in a way. I'm a little hesitant on stepping over to the other side because I liked the 40's. I like the idea of others who took an age and stuck with it - my mom for example was 46 for about four years in a row. At least, every time I asked her on her birthdays how old she was then, she would always answer "46". "But I thought you were 46 last year?!"... "No I wasn't!!!"

"Sam, you're now 50... what are you gonna do now?!"... "I'm going to Disneyland!" The best part is that we're sort of getting in for free, although my wife paid for it through her employer, and that Disney will be charging us $15 for parking. We're just doing our part to keep those happy Disney employees employed. Heaven forbid Disney should do something nice by reducing their pricing for those of us struggling financially. But I'm not one to rant about corporate injustice. After all, it is the happiest place on earth...

At the end of this month is the other milestone and that is my marriage to Didi of twenty years. We've actually been together for twenty two years now and I'm pleased to let everyone know - we're still both alive! It's been the longest that I've actually stuck to anything or anyone in any length of time so for me, this is quite an accomplishment. It's been quite an interesting but quite fulfilling adventure, this marriage. Didi and I have had our ups and downs, as all marriages have, and I'm glad that I'm taking this journey with her. We've shared a lot of tears, through struggles with her mom's illness, challenges with employment, and loss of our pets. We've also equally shared laughter and happiness through our travel vacations, projects around the house, and time with family and friends.

These are the moments that I really cherish as I reflect on the past through the benchmarks of my life, and my time as a married man. I have a special place in my storage bank for these time images, and I relish the thought of gathering new memories. It's just too bad that I can't grow another head to store more information...

Well, I think it's time for this old man to get his mee-mees. Goodnight everybody.... everybody everywhere... Goodnight!

The Precarious Flight of the Night Owl

The night owl seem to be quite an endangered species these days and early birds have taken over the world. Night owls are either subjected to propaganda like "The early bird gets the worm", and they soon convert over mesmerized of this hypnotizing chant or forced to convert by sheer peer pressure. What the early birds don't tell us is that there's plenty of worms on the ground for getting! Yeah, and we can spot them better at night because we're all bright eyed and bushy tailed too (at night)!

Just about every company is overrun by early birds. Even those who used to be night owls are sometimes forcing the transition and overdosing on bitter coffee at Starbucks just to keep up. We tread lightly these days since we are now out numbered. But hear this, there is going to be a revolution that will change this fine feathered conspiracy back into the way nature had intended. Night owls will once again unite to fight for our proper wake-up time and live amongst our nocturnal friends once again.

What makes a night owl? There are various telltale signs that distinguishes a night owl from an early bird.

1. Early birds are naturally perky at wee hours of the morning while night owls melt away from a warm bed and walk in their sleep towards the bathroom.
2. Night owls don't communicate or utter any sounds until after having a fresh hot cup of coffee.
3. Early birds are known to utter phrases like "Up and at 'em!", "Early to bed - early to rise, yada, yada, yada...", or "Good morning, Sunshine!" On the other hand, night owls utter phrases like "Shut the hell up - it's too damn early!", "Where's my coffee?", or "Is it time to go home yet? (at 8:00 in the morning)"

Why should night owls revert back to their rightful time in the nocturnal world? For the simple reason of the benefits of being night owls.

1. We naturally function a lot better at night.
2. We have an easier flight to and from work since the streets aren't littered with early birds who honk their horns at the first sign of a green light if you are a second behind in accelerating from a stop.
3. We aren't restricted to force our sleep routine to coincide with our work routine of nine to five (nine to five work in the morning; nine to five sleep at night).

So there you have it! Night owls unite and let's regain back what we have lost! Our proper time is at night and we should be allowed to freely return back to our natural habitat!

Reflections

It's Sunday night and I have been blessed with some spare time between cooking both for tonight's dinner and lunch for next week, and bedtime. These are the times that I really enjoy because I get to reflect on all the opportunities and disappointments that have graced my days. Tonight's reflection is even more rewarding because these things transpire within the last couple of weeks.

All in all, I am very happy with all that's happened and have come to accept the notion that all events were meant to be. I am quite ecstatic with all the possibilities that the opportunities will provide and equally excited about where those adventures will take me.

As I sit here in front of my laptop taking in the susurrus lament of silence and sipping a glass of Yellow Tail Shiraz, I am engulfed in deep contemplation and the sense of freedom. Perhaps it’s the wine… then again, perhaps not… Tonight, calmness wraps its warm blanket around me and I start to reflect.

It’s definitely a divine intervention that I have gotten involved with the local farmers market. Before then, I had been in desolate personal state of non-purposeful existence. I felt lost; yet felt that I needed to be going someplace. I needed direction at a juncture in my life where presented before me are several roads with unknown destinations, equally intimidating and equally inviting. I prayed for wisdom to choose the right path but this answer would not come to me immediately.

I didn’t step forward in any direction but stood in silence and listened. I listened to the murmurs of those who are changing the world, their causes and their movements. I heard the whispers of those awakening people’s perceptions of good food and good business practices. I felt the vibrations of a worldly revival to return to the way nature had been purposefully designed. Quietly I waited, and after much time had passed that seemed to equal several months, I heard the call beckoning to me. It wasn’t from any stranger that I would hear the call, but from someone near and dear to me – my wife.

Didi had seen the ad in the Press Telegram about a new farmers market being established at California Heights and she showed me the article. What caught my attention was the call for volunteers to help with setting up cooking workshops. Without hesitation, I sent a comment through the website’s “About” page indicating my interest in volunteering time to assist with the workshops. I was contacted by Kelli Johnson and that was the start of my involvement with the market.

During the first couple of weeks of my volunteered time at the market, I still felt like an outsider but I had a renewed sense of purpose. I took advantage of every opportunity to interact with vendors and visitors in the hopes of learning more about the farmers’ market culture.

Today, I’m very excited to have met people with the same interest and outlook as I have regarding community and a sense of belonging. I truly relish exchange of ideas with those I have spoken with about returning the world into a greener place, and giving back to education and the schools. I am empowered by the knowledge that I can contribute to the control of water shortage by building a rain water collection system with instructions provided by the Hughes Goes Green volunteers. I am elated to hear of neighbors trading crops that they have grown themselves at the Wrigley Gardens in Long Beach. I am in awe of the deep sense of community that permeates through the Longfellow Middle School playground every Sunday that continues to grow week after week with new visitors. Most of all, I am blessed by several newly developed friendships that have sprouted from this one experience.

In future days, the market will be providing cooking workshops and I have been quite involved with contacting local chefs, all of whom I quite admire for their achievements. The possibilities at this market are endless and I look forward to developing the purpose that continues to burn in my heart – everyone should always have decent meals, and no one should ever have to go hungry. I plan on joining the Slow Food movement and take part in bringing back what we have lost – closeness in relationships and community, and respect for our fellow human beings.

As I draw this reflection to a close, I can’t help but think to myself… Man, this is some good wine!