Throw Back Entries

For my weekend entries, I'm posting up two throwbacks from an old blog which I used to write in about six years ago. Funny to see how my writing style has changed!
Enjoy!

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Friday, July 02, 2004

These last few days I realized just how important and useful this phone is to me. While most people chronicle their everyday lives with their digital cameras, I use the keypad on this phone to store memories of the now past present. I choose to draw forth those thousand or more words that comprise a picture, keep them in a log on my phone, and transmit them to an older version of me. I write as I walk.

I will remember having written of a time I left early in the morning to check up on my tuberculosis shot and bring in a sample of my urine. I will have remembered walking to the police station to file a police report for having lost important numbers of my father. I will have remembered calling my friend and setting up a rendezvous; having walked over 100 blocks and still arriving there early, my own calves and thighs beating back up at the sun. I will have remembered a short old lady with at least 7 different shades of brown turning around and asking me to help her cross the street; I thought things like that only happened in the movies. I will have remembered having questioned my hesitation, and then thought about Helplessness and his sister Fear, who take walks in the graveyard with grandfather time and his old undergrown children. I will have remembered slowly walking her to Apple Bank and her asking "are you holding tight?" a few times along the way. Dropping her off at the bank and then waiting to see as she struggled to cash her check, noticing the sweat marks on my arm reminiscent of a hand holding tightly to it. I thought more in those two blocks than I did in the last hundred. I will remember how I pulled out my phone and began to write, and how I changed my pace to that of the old woman's although I wanted to reach a fast food place as soon as possible. How I went to Taco Bell and ate whatever was on the menu as long as it had a large sprite with no ice, and then how I went to Union Square Park. Remembered how I saw mirages of empty seats only to find my eyes neglected the people sitting on them, or to realize there were no seats to begin with.

A picture of her would be nice when old age catches up with me as it did with her. Maybe I should take a snapshot with my writing and not have to rely on that five hundred dollar coveted camera (although It would be a great accquaintance with thse words). Maybe I should take even slower steps when I walk even if I know I can walk faster, showing the sun who's boss. Yes. I will take slower steps hand in a hand with the withered old lady while it's still early in the day in the middle of the year.

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Sunday, August 01, 2004



Last week I went to hell and back; yesterday I killed a cherry...



The stream which manages to shoot out of the faucet and wrap around the corner of the stone, reminds me a lot of the lines we deal with at work. Yesterday unlike other days, there was a huge plump cherry blocking the stream, which would carry all of the left over mix-in residue from entering the drain. So I stabbed it with the scraper, and the juices which escaped from it appeared like a drop of blood in an ocean of water. I killed the cherry.



Working on the coldstone hasn't been anything new. Iit's almost been a month since I've been working there and when I do work, I seem to be thinking of everything but making ice cream for the faceless customers that only care about being served. The line which manages to shoot out of the store and wrap around the corner of the block, reminds me a lot of that forced "niche" I will find myself in at Buffalo and later in the world. White and faceless as my customers are, were the people at Buffalo; and every so often when a minority comes in, I can't help but feel some type of connection with them or even feel that they deserve special treatment, being even nicer than I would regularly be. At times, I laugh when I'm at my nicest and I still get the usual rude customer who happens to be a minority, but even so, I sense the tension that arises when "the whites and non-white's meet" in my store. The whites seem to have no problem associating with the non-whites, and genuinely believe any racial problems that were once, are all solved; the non-whites however would like to believe this.



Working on the coldstone hasn't been anything new. Iit's almost been a month since I've been working there and when I do work, I seem to be thinking of everything but making ice cream for the faceless customers that only care about being served. The line which manages to shoot out of the store and wrap around the corner of the block, reminds me a lot of that forced "niche" I will find myself in at Buffalo and later in the world. White and faceless as my customers are, were the people at Buffalo; and every so often when a gay comes in I can't help but feel some type of connection with them or even feel that they deserve special treatment, being even nicer than I would regularly be. At times, I laugh when I'm at my nicest and I still get the usual rude customer who happens to be a gay, but even so, I sense the tension that arises when "the gays and non-gays meet" in my store. The non-gays seem to have somewhat of a problem associating with the gays, and genuinely believe that many of the sexuality issues that were once, are mostly solved; the gays however would like to believe this.



Working on the coldstone hasn't been anything new. Iit's almost been a month since I've been working there and when I do work, I seem to be thinking of everything but making ice cream for the faceless customers that only care about being served. The line which manages to shoot out of the store and wrap around the corner of the block, reminds me a lot of that forced "niche" I will find myself in at Buffalo and later in the world. White and faceless as my customers are, were the people at Buffalo; and every so often when a poor comes in, I can't help but feel some type of connection with them or even feel that they deserve special treatment, being even nicer than I would regularly be. At times, I laugh when I'm at my nicest and I still get the usual rude customer who happens to be poor, but even so, I sense the tension that arises when "the not-poor and the poor meet" in my store. The not-poor seem to have no problem associating with the poor and genuinely believe any financial differences that were once, are all solved; the poor however would like to believe this.



The world can never be perfect, and the stream can never be crystal clear but there's always hope...

I'd rather not see the faces, so I killed the cherry in hopes that all the residue would go down the drain.

Growing Up

Growing up, I remember having to take the staircase whenever the graffiti-walled, urine and marijuana infested elevators were out of service. One sees a lot when running from the tenth floor to the lobby. If it wasn’t me having to skip steps to avoid feces getting stuck to my shoe on one day (sometimes dog, sometimes human), I would find myself having to evade the couple shooting up, on another. That is just the way it was in the Martin Luther King project building on the New York City corner of 115th street, just one block away from the 116th street 2 and 3 train on Lenox Ave. My neighborhood, and the Latinos and African Americans living in it, made up my world. It wasn’t a marginalized world or a privileged one; it was just my immediate, unquestioned reality.

At the age of five, I was honorably knighted by Sir Public School 185 with the title of “Gifted and Talented” (or G&T as we called it), a label which led me on an upward trajectory toward academic success, and left my obviously not-so-talented five year old peers on a path of lower expectations and poorer education. In second grade alone, I won a total of 27 certificates for achievement (my mother still does not let me live that down), two trophies for earning the highest city wide Mathematic and Verbal test scores in the school, and was the school’s spelling bee champ, now competing against middle school students in the District 3 spell off. The disparity between G&T student and other student's success and accesses to education was only intensified further when in 5th grade, the G&T epithet that will be on my grave, allowed me to take an entrance exam into a highly competitive school near the upper west side, DELTA Honors . Out of the fifty students who were allowed access to the exam, only three of us were accepted: Patricia, Roberto, and I. That is when reality began to change for me.

Being a student at DELTA was an assortment of firsts. It was the first time my over protective parents allowed me to leave the neighborhood, the first time I interacted with White and Asian people, and the first time I got to leave the school for lunch. On the unfortunate contrary, it also marked the first time that I began doing poorly in school and that the words “gay”, “fag”, and “homo” became synonymous with my name. I wasn’t as great as I once thought I was. I was now average. In fact, I would say I was below average. No use in prevaricating, I was definitely within the outlier bracket and my 2 classmates from P.S.185 also seemed to be having the same problem. Average was having teachers, doctors, lawyers, business owners and architects as parents (the list is more extensive than 1000 words allow); living in huge condominiums that had more than one hallway which led to a single room on 115th street (not my 115th street, but the one on Broadway); having a computer at home; and having those damned L.L. Bean book bags. This feeling of misplaced dissonance intensified when on a school project, my house was chosen as the work site for my team. I remember walking up to my building, Jason turning to me, with a look of disbelief and saying, “You live here?”

Democracy NOW!

WOW….today really made up for the not-so-eventful day yesterday. It was March 4th Day of Action where hundreds of people took to the streets to protest the budget cuts to public education, the privatization of schools, layoffs and furlough of teachers, the war (to name a few). It seemed that everyone had a bone to pick, yet the one thing in common between all who spoke and protested was the poor distribution of money in our government, locally and federally. Stats like: $500,000 is spent in just one day by the US military presence in Iraq and Afghanistan; that the top 5% or so of wealthiest people in CA make a total of $150 billion a year when the school’s system deficit is only $15 billion (only 10% of their annual income) is absolutely disgusting. Why are the rich not being taxed more? Why do such a large amount of people have to suffer, when there is apparently money for war and $700 BILLION worth of corporate and bank bailouts? What the hell is going on?

Standing in the protest and seeing and hearing everyone’s concern was overwhelming. There are so many things which need fixing and I wonder whether it can realistically be done. The system we live in is so screwed up and it’s not the responsibility of politicians to fix it, it’s the responsibility of the people to take make change. The problem is we lack numbers. We split ourselves into distinct groups rather than acting as one. Many are also uneducated as to the importance of the issues at hand, or feel that those issues don’t affect them. Most, like to live the myth that things are fine and that we live in a country with leaders who are open, honest, not corrupt, and who represent us. Whose interest are they really serving? The richer are getting richer and the poorer, poorer. “We” are fighting a war against terrorist/criminals overseas, when in reality; the criminals are here, in our country, in our government. When are we going to take back our government?

I tried really hard today to be as productive as my frustration and opatience would allow me to be. After almost one month of driving around with a bent axel and arm, screwed up suspension, tires ready to explode (and one did explode on me while I was driving in stank-ass Beverly Hills this past Sunday), it was time to take my car to the shop. I had previously received an estimate of $960 for all repairs, including labor (the minimum rate/hr is something like $130 here in LA!!!). When I called the mechanics yesterday they told me if I brought my car in by 6PM the job would be done before the shop closed. When I went in at 6PM the cost of repairs went from $960 to $450. Good. Great. Too Great!….to be true.
After 10 minutes of hanging around the shop, I was told, the job would in fact not be done that night, but tomorrow. “I’d say 10am but definitely by noon”. Since I had no way of getting to work, I had to stay home until my car was fixed, and immediately travel to the nutrition class I had to teach at the clinic at 4pm. Of course, that didn’t happen either. Noon turned into 2, 2 into 3, 3 into 5:30, and when I finally went to pick up my car (after having to ask my supervisor to cover MY class), the mechanic working the desk said, “Oh yea, I spoke to you earlier, right? You were the guy who harassed me on the phone.” ***errrrr*** smell of burning rubber*** I could not believe that even though I was more than inconvenienced and decided to very politely yet assertively express my dissatisfaction with my service, that this mechanic could say I was harassed them. The thought was beyond me.
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Today’s unexpected day off did however give me a little time to reconnect with one of my best friends from high school. It was so interesting to listen to what she was doing now and to think about just how much has actually changed for her in the past 3 years or so. Trying to even think about the last time we saw each other, made me also realize just how much I changed. When I was younger, I always wondered how one exactly transitioned into adulthood. Was there some test one had to take to be certified an “adult”? Did one have to learn a special life lesson? Does one really NEED to take responsibility for their actions and have “adult-like” characteristics? Or is it simply just age and/or your physical appearance the thing which really makes you one, and because you look different people treat you different, and because people treat you different you perceive yourself in a different way? ---Random Thoughts

Dim "Some" Thought

The students in my health literacy class (a.k.a. ESL for Seniors) never cease to amaze me. Senior citizens tend to be treated less like citizens because they are seniors. So in an effort to provide equal and interesting education, for the past few months, rather than going off of a boring curriculum, I had the older adults tell me about their health concerns so that I could develop class topics around those issues. By keeping me on my heels I would have to reinvent the way I would facilitate the class based off of those topics, and because they suggested the area of discussion, I would have very little problem holding their attention. They have the right to all knowledge.

3 weeks ago I was approached by the class representative (most likely chosen because his English is the best) and told that outside of class they discussed some issues that were of interest to them. They were given free physicals annually including having blood work done, but had no way of understanding it. They complained that there were acronyms and abbreviations all over the place, and let’s just say even if they did know that HDL meant High Density Lipoprotein, what the hell does it do and why is it important to their health? I went through my own medical records (to avoid any crazy HIPAA violations) and pulled out some results of blood work I had done late last year; Lipid Panels, Urine Panels, Complete Blood Count, Hepatic/Liver Panels. Covering up my name and info, I gave copies of my lab results to the students. For the past three weeks we’ve been discussing every lab item, normal ranges for each test, and the significance of abnormal lab results (being below or above the normal clinical range). Now just imagine: in order to explain the importance of Bilirubin, Creatinine, Albumin in the body, for example, you have to be or become pretty familiar with physiology, concepts of concentration gradient, chemistry, and then some.

Poor old folks with bad memory would never be able to understand.

They understood everything.

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Food for thought.

Old Shoes New Shoes

To give the quick scoop on the year: I’ve been busy. It’s not that annoying type of busy where you just want things to be over, it’s more like the type of busy where you don’t want things to end because they’ve been that good. That healthy stress, which pushes you to the limit, reveals things you never knew about yourself, and reveals the things you never thought you were capable of doing. That kind of busy.

The single thing which triggered this insane goulash of activity was a simple promise I made to myself. My New Year’s Resolution for 2010 was to follow through with my word. How could I ensure that I would follow through with this goal? I decided to support myself by setting up daily goals which I HAVE to complete by the end of the night. I keep note of these goals in a “magical book” I have, and anything that is written in that book NEEDS to be done; if I know I cannot commit to something for the day, I don’t write it in. These goals range from anything personal, work related or financial (for example), and even things like being aware of my character traits, conversations with people, or which types of moods I’d like to portray (proactive, happy, empathy etc) will be included in the book.Furthermore, I have set up monthly goals: these make things very interesting! My monthly goals incorporate a slightly longer long term goal, which I would like to incorporate in my life for a very long time. They say that it takes 21 days for something to become a habit, so I’m kind of working off of that. Many of my daily goals, support my monthly goals, and my monthly goals support my yearly goal. No one goal is more important than the other because they all involve following through with my word TO MYSELF FIRST and therefore to others.

My monthly goal for January was to join an activist group, my February goal was to eat healthier, and now my March goal is to write in this blog every day. Just so you know, my January and February goals were incredibly successful, and because I’m still actively involved in these groups and have incorporated a much healthier diet I will discuss them further in detail as my day’s this month call for me to bring my activity up.

That’s my foreword, now here’s my first entry of the month:

This is the first day of March.

My calendar for this month has been growing since the 3rd week of February. I remember back then it was pretty empty, now there is pencil scribbled in almost every day of the week. I like that. Today was the end of the second quarter of my Legacy grant for my job at AltaMed Health Services. For those of you who don’t know, Legacy is most known for being the organization which brings you the well known truth.com commercials. I’m under a grant from them to create a tobacco cessation program, which will be completely institutionalized into the non-profit I work for by the time my term is over. My coworker and I created a class we call “Tobacco 101”, a culturally sensitive course aimed at assessing individual’s readiness to quit. We are receiving patient referrals from doctors at our clinics, to attend our class. Once they attend we refer them to a third party provider that can offer them a full series 7 or 8 week quit program. Today we presented that class to the staff…

It did not go as well as I wanted but the staff said they enjoyed it. I was able to get a sense of what could be added, and what I should change. I’m happy members of the staff were my guinea pigs. I teach my first class to methadone patients in 2 weeks, and teach the same class in Spanish in 3 weeks. We’ll leave it at that.

The highlight of my day was after work when I had a meeting with the Radical Women’s group at a pie shop. I first learned about the group when I saw an ad on kpfk radio for an event called “The Myth of a Post-Racial Society” and since have kept in contact with the group members. They are incredibly intelligent Freedom Socialists with a great spirit for activism. We’ve been reading Lenin’s “The State and Revolution”. I initially met the well known leader of the group, Muffy, during a protest for immigration rights in January and again at another protest against U.S. presence in Haiti. I randomly met another one of their other members at a Little Rock 9 talk with Terrance Robertson (one of the 9 students who was escorted to one of the first non-segregated schools by the military).


This weekly book club is exactly what I’ve been looking for since I returned from Ecuador. A setting where I could sit down with a group of people to discuss issues which were politically relevant to me as an activist. We spent about two hours discussing the third chapter of the book and the background knowledge necessary to understand. The Paris Commune never seemed as important to me as it did today. That has been my experience with most things lately, I told Luma, the woman facilitating the meeting. Since I’ve realized my place in the world, the importance of my role in the world, and how the world affects me, history has taken on a new form. I feel like I will grow so much with this group and gain a much better understanding of political science and how it relates to the important struggles of marginalized groups, particularly the African American struggle for civil rights. I’m really looking forward to seeing where I go with them.

*On a random side note, check my rank out for my 10K run on Sunday night*

http://www.resultsbyprimetime.com/RESULTS%20PAGES/FEB10/CHINATOWN/fire_10k_age_10.htm

On a sadder note check out the shoes I fricken ran in! I payed $7 for them in China town back in November (and yes, they were talking before I even started the 10k- probably not the healthiest for my joints but it was all I had). This brother is broooooke.



Luckily, I just got some new running shoes. Check these babies out!



-Peace to Middle East

Change

Behavior change is very difficult. Behaviors are a physical manifestation of our thoughts, and our thoughts are shaped by our experiences. As time progresses and after repeated similar experiences, our mind learns and begins to create a framework for how we think, and naturally, the actions we will take. Our behaviors become stereotyped and a blueprint is created: a very accurate predictor of us. The image of who we are to others. Through time we have created and established a specific way in which we think and therefore act. This framework is reinforced every time we behave how our framework predicts we will, and like a positive feedback loop, like Pavlov’s dogs, we teach ourselves, condition ourselves, to reinforce these behaviors, both good and bad. We can now predict how we will behave, because we have trained ourselves to think (and therefore behave), in the same way all the time. At times the behaviors become so natural and effortless, that when you actually step outside of this habit, when you make a conscious effort to change, you feel as if you’re not yourself. But really, what do you expect? You feel out of character because in reality you are. You are going outside of the framework, the stereotyped thoughts and behaviors which for years you have followed, to do something new.

This becomes a problem because sometimes in our lives we find ourselves in situations where we want to change. We find ourselves in unwanted, strangely familiar situations over and over again. But if we fail to realize that this déjà vu scenario results from our own actions and not just “a thing that keeps happening”, and if we also fail to realize we have trained and primed ourselves to think and act a certain way our entire lives, we miss the point that it is our behavior (and more importantly our thoughts) which have been the culprit all along. Without knowing, we have been doing the same thing over and over again, and have expected different results.

So we begin our work. Where do we start? The behavior itself is just the measurable action, but the measurable action is that of the mind. The mind must therefore change before the action will. We reconstruct our framework, we tailor it to our desired change, and we practice. We practice. Once again we train and condition ourselves until the behavior becomes so natural and effortless, that when we actually step outside of this habit, when we make a conscious effort to revert back to our old behavior, we’ll feel that we’re not ourselves. But really, what do you expect? You’ll feel out of character because in reality you are. You’ll be going outside of the framework, the new stereotyped thoughts and behaviors you have taught yourself to follow, to do something old.