anticipating the shift after the storm

Yesterday was the official last day of the scholastic summer here. And with a tropical storm (TS Fay) approaching, I just wanted to visit the beach to see it as it is before it’s altered by the storm.

Lately, I had been too lazy and just driven the shortest route to the shore, but I always feel annoyed when I do that because I knowingly drive to a beach I know will either be crowded by visiting tourists or beach loiterers. And it doesn’t take much for me to consider it a crowd. I much prefer seeing people out in the water or fishing, minding their own business, rather than see them on land.

But yesterday, I did things properly and drove down to one of the less commercial beaches up the coast. There were maybe 3 small groups:  a parents-child group going to the beach after dad came back from one of his long semi-truck delivery routes, a family happily and noisily fishing with fishing poles grounded by pbc pipes, and a small group of young friends skimboarding  further south.

As the fishing group was leaving, one of fathers, carrying the bulk majority of the poles, buckets, and coolers, says as he passes by us, “How you girls doing today at the beach?” He said this without looking at us, but he said this loudly without reserve and in a tone that was genuine and generous. Out of usual character, I smiled and said thanks, then asked about his fishing today. He kept walking, still keeping an eye on his equipment while replying honestly, “Ah.. not so good. Didn’t catch much, but it was still great to enjoy being out here on the beach.” Then, as he walked off the steps, my cousin commented, “Wow, Florida people are really friendly!”

It’s moments like this that make me think that Florida does me inevitable good. It helps me calm my prejudices and develop a relaxation. Urban settings breed prejudice of attitude. It’s this breed of hostility and reserve that shape a narrow temper. Of course, I’m talking about attitude, not openness and acceptance. So don’t interpret my words as a comment on the quality of culture and society. I’m talking about an attitude that’s not intrinsic to me, but one that I have been observing and eventually adapating to. In a way, this climate nurtures my reserve.

spooning

I don’t think anyone can ever be blamed for not knowing where they’re going. Most of the times we just don’t know. Even if we have the wealth, the power, and the affection. Sometimes only missing a fraction can cause us loss of direction.

I’m here typing in silence, by a short flourescent light, and listening to the self-effecting, moody music of Spoon.

I just felt a little a moody. There’s no use in asking the point of doing something when we never know when there’s a point to something. It’s not really gamble, it’s just… do it or not, your choice. Point or no, doesn’t matter. So of course, I think the point of things all the time, but we only do that to exercise anxiety.

I hate when people tell me I will regret something. They assume they know better than me. The wise don’t make such bold comments. They think just because of age and time, they know better than me. But they forget who I am; or they don’t know who I am. I rarely regret. You may advise me, but don’t command me.

I don’t regret. I make decisions consciously. There are times that I hold my tongue, I don’t get my say. But it’s out of choice. And the only comfort I get is that I made the right choice. I don’t get the satisfaction of the flashier option. It’s just left there. Then, next.

So it’s a bit quiet. Although not quite so sweet, it’s more peaceful. Which is what I want in the end.

Sometimes I do wonder, but… Not much is open except everything. And in terms of hope, I don’t dare use it. But if I don’t, then it’s a little too existentialist. So I wonder what I am. I might be too much of natural existentialist, with closet hopeful tendencies.

Anyway, on to work. (I wish the airconditioning would turn on)

fastfood junkie

I’ve become a junk food fanatic (as of late). Mainly things like KFC’s spicy chicken wings and Big Macs (and potato wedges, and fries!). Ironically, I’ve never really been a fan of junk food. Although, there was a period in college when I only ate chicken products (or at least what was supposed to be chicken) like McNuggets or Wendy’s nuggets, and chicken strips during lunch whenever my friend Anna had time to drop by Wendy’s on her way to campus. I guess when you think back about it, these could be considered the comfort food of my college years. But reality was, these were the only fast foods I could stomach (besides cheesesteak) and they were cheap.

So now I wonder why I’ve regressed to eating fast food when I used to have a taste for a different diet. Usually you get healthier as you grow older, not regress.

rash behavior

Summer in Florida means endless sun, weather only the elderely can appreciate, throngs of tourists dirtying up our beaches, and…. dun dun dun mosquitos!

So far, (including other blood thirsty insects) I have 6 bites on one arm, 3 on the other, and maybe half a dozen in the neck area. So I can’t wait till the end of summer. Although I do wish our rainy season were more constant. I don’t know if it’s the end of the summer winds or the unfriendly Atlantic Ocean, but rain storms come and go in a matter of minutes. And I wish I could enjoy them longer.

Besides being unsightly, these bites are also a little more than distracting:  they itch. So as I type, or think, or read, I suddenly start rubbing the back of my neck or begin to scratch my arm, which of course, just irritates the area more. So I find myself very distracted and unable to focus. And there are some things I’d like to finish soon.

Why do you listen to music?

This is pointless to say, but that’s what I write about anyway:  pointless things.

I don’t know enough to say “most,” but I think a lot of people have to listen to music when they write. I hear Stephenie Meyer listens to Linkin Park (among others). I keep mentioning her, but I still haven’t made my way to reading Twilight, mainly because the books at the libraries are all checked out. ALL. Except for the Spanish version, which I convinced myself to read, only I couldn’t find it. I’m not sure I will, though. I’ve just ordered the Oxford Illustrated Jane Austen Collection and once it arrives, I’ll be busy thumbing through the volumes. And I’ve also been meaning to by myself a copy of Elizabeth Gaskell’s North and South.

What was my pointless thing again? Oh yeah, music. So.. —sorry, now I’m trying to imagine the music thing in Victorian England or in Jane Austen’s time when they had no portable music or mp3 players… but then again, maybe their minds weren’t as swiming as ours nowadays since we now find it vogue to multitask and in years ago, idling was the the only choice for women.

Well, anyway, so that kind of has to do with what I was going to say. I have to listen to music in order to achieve two things:  1) to keep rhythm of my words and write in focus (mainly to block any other thoughts) and 2) to block my own criticism. The effect of music on number 2 is very important, well, on both actually because they work together. Without music, I am constantly criticizing my words and if I feel they’re awkward, then I just have to scratch it out. And so I get nowhere, except for a paper full of crossed out pencil markings :/…

social hermit

I don’t know why I subject myself to certain things. Willingly. I guess it’s because I half want them and half don’t. And also because I can’t alienate everyone all the time. So unfortunately, I have to put up with niceties and occassional formalities whenever a slight question of mood allows me. Regrettably, I always regret despite need. As long as I have friends, this will be my vexation.

Well, I think I’ll crawl back into my hermit cave now.

pensando á lo agrio

Currently listening to Tommy Torres. I don’t know why, but it’s not as cheesy to listen to feelings in Spanish.  For some reason they sound more sincere. I don’t know if it’s just growing up with it or if it’s an intrinsically roman thing. I suspect it might be the latter, but then again, it might be sentimental bias.

Trouble sleeping. That’s a dubious statement when it comes to me because I’ve always had trouble sleeping, so that statement may or may not mean anything.

I’m feeling envious of Stephenie Meyer, famed author of the Twilight series. I only discovered who she was this week. Apparently, in terms of fame and level of celebrity, they’re comparing her to J.K. Rowling. It wasn’t until today, when I picked up a copy of Entertainment Weekly that was laying around, that I actually found out how massively popular she is. After finishing the article, I headed over to her website and read the story of the origins of Twilight. After only fifteen queries and only six months, she received a $750,000 three-book deal. Understand my envy now ;)? I hear that the average is usually 20 to 37 rejections before you finally get an agent or publisher who bites. So I’d say she certainly had a good amount of luck on her side. I wonder how many times J.K. was rejected. Personally, I wrote 9 letters and was too tired to write more. I also felt it was good waste of stamps, paper, and envelopes. Oh, and don’t forget the black ink! I guess I’ll have to try again later. But I say that half-heartedly.

I’m not much of a reader. And I’m not proud enough to say I’m a writer. I like both, but I lack motivation. I won’t read just anything. Unfortunately, great reads won’t just fall on my lap (or at least not very often) so that leaves me with a very small appetite. Double starvation. In terms of writing, what’s there to write? I get over melodrama very quickly so what’s intriguing one day I will find mundane three days later. I don’t know what kind of person I’ve become, but it seems a rather apathetic one at times. It’s not clear if this is due to the general course of my maturity or if it’s a result of moving away from Philadelphia. Or maybe it’s something more acute. Hmm.

Oh. There’s another twinge to my envy of Ms. Meyer. In the EW article, I read that ever after getting Twilight written, she hasn’t been able to stop. She’s fallen in love with writing. The feeling of absolutely having to write something down on paper… is something I miss.

duped into romanticism

Have I too bought into the idea of romanticism? Was what I was beginning to suspect at the end of last week. You may or may not know what I’m talking about. I was originally going to include the details of how this came up (in fact, the draft is still keeping warm in the Manage Posts oven), but I decided to start a new one.

We live in an era where we’re brought up with the notion of romanticism. Meaning, we look hard for someone we will have “feelings” for. And if we find that right person, we’re supposed to hold on unconditionally. Or at least, that’s what they feed us through the media. I know you might say that we’re not really so romantic after all, but we’re criticized either way, aren’t we?

If you choose someone based on their income, status, even on the pure basis of compatibility, you’re labeled as materialistic. That rather, you’re not asking for or expecting anything. But in realist terms, isn’t that actually just practicality? It’s only pragmatic to find someone with a good income, social status, and compatible personalities for the pure concern of the future. Good income and social status means a great deal if you’re thinking about children. These two qualities mean that your progeny will be taken care of and have more choices and chances of success in their respective future lives. And let’s not forget health, another pragmatic thing to consider if having your own biological progeny is important to you.

But this isn’t what’s publicized and marketed out there. We really have been raised to think that the person is most important. Somehow this notion of love and faeries has inundated our subconscious leaving our feelings in control over our minds. Because when it comes to advice, other than parents and sensible adults, most will tell you to follow the romantic route. If it was a teenager, wouldn’t we call him (or her) headstrong and foolhardy?

I’m not advocating the end of romanticism, but I’m not necessarily praising it either, I’m just pointing it out. Because I wonder about myself, too. But then I remember:  sometimes my gut is more logic than feeling.

Hindsight review: emulating The Beatles outright

Unfortunately, Locksley is infinitely better live than on their CD. And that’s annoying because I don’t have access to good quality recordings of their live (unreleased) songs. Judging from what I heard on stage and finding that they had a change of bass players, I think their style has evolved from when they were last at the recording studio. And from the couple of times that I’ve looped that CD in my car’s CD player, I think it’s a little more than channeling or evoking The Beatles, Jesse is even singing like Lennon in these songs. It’s kinda scary. But all those apprehensions aside, they look like they’re on their way up. And as long as their songs sound more like their live sets, I’ll give them a listen.

Currently listening to The Beatle’s 1969 recording of Don’t Let Me Down with a bunch of old fogeys in the background at the Apple HQ rooftop. Click here if you wanna check out McCartney’s lumberjack beard, Lennon’s animal cruelty friendly coat, and unruly hair flapping in the wind.

accidental teeny bopper encounter 2

Locksley:  This band was great. I hate to admit it, but they were. They were great entertainers. But that might’ve been because they were all hopped up on Redbull. They certainly thought it gave them wings, judging by their climbing and jumping off of speakers, drumsets, and mock flying kicks. In terms of sound, at one point they sounded like the Arctic Monkeys to me. Overall, Locksley does have this British sound to them like the catchy, gritty tunes of early rock groups. I also like the lead singer’s accent :).

My first impression was… their pants are too tight. Every member on stage was wearing a pair. My question:  an emphatic Why? I hear that the trend is also popular with the Jonas Brothers. Is this the new “long hair” of rock n’ roll, I wonder?

They were fun because they knew how to rile up the audience and the music was just catchy and upbeat. And they weren’t at all boring to watch. However, frankly, most of the time, we couldn’t really tell what anyone was singing because the bass had been turned up so high (my guess it was the work of Rooney’s guitarist). I mean, I like bass, but it’s hard to note down songs you like when you can’t understand what the band’s singing. The whole time this band was on stage I was just thinking.. this is a great band to warm up the crowd for Rooney. Oh, and let me add that the bassist was a bit of a stage hog. I guess his antics were fun, but I just thought they were a tad self-indulgent ;).

Lack of Main Attraction:  Rooney actually turned out to be a disappointment. I was expecting more. But they were the most boring of all three. It was just like listening to their CD in my car. Thing is, at a concert, you don’t want to see a boring band and feel like you’re just driving with the CD popped in. When you see them, you want to hear stories, repartes, something. I like to get an idea of the band. That’s why you go to see them in person. To get a more intimate feeling. I didn’t want to express my disappointment after having dragged three people out there with me so I kept it to myself. I’ve never been to their concerts so I don’t know if they’re always like this or if it was just my luck that day. It could’ve possibly been the latter because apparently they had done two morning shows that day starting at around 7:15 am. All I can say is.. this is what I saw… bassist on the left with his shades on barely doing any movement except for the subtle fingering of his bass. Guitarist on the right looked like he didn’t really care much about anyone (although he is a great guitar player). They looked like they could barely prop themselves up. Robert Schwartzman… I swear he looked like he brushed off a good couple of the audience members. One girl had been trying so hard to get anyone’s attention to read her sign. She even jumped up on someone to pop out of the pit (and she was big by the way), nothing. She did this a couple more times until she decided to crumple her paper and chuck it on stage. Everyone ignored the balled up paper on the ground. It just looked like they were trying to get through the songs and go back to the nap they just woke up from. I was amazed how little breathing time Rob needed. There was barely any pause between songs and minimal talking. Rob sounded a little hoarse, but again, I’ve never been to their other concerts. There were some points where he did look like he tried, it’s just looked a little forced. I’m just saying that although I was kinda let down, there is a possibility that they might’ve been overworked that day.

Set list here.