Astralbane

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oh, it's my 7 month anniversary btw...

since the snowboarding injury (12/22/07)

weee?

and no, it's not fully healed yet.

but by now I have a better handle of it than when I had back in january...

and that's gotta amount to something, right?

right?

but uh, one more thing... I met a customer today who has birthmarks on his right arm just like me. Only his birthmarks covered the entire length of the arm, down to the fingers. It looked like he suffered burn marks or something... compared to my two red ones... one of which looks like China.

Ah well.

Versatility. That is what I strive for.

Three weeks ago I bought my bike. And since then it’s opened up a new outlet for me. All of a sudden I can go out and not have my limited budget in mind. Though I spent a hefty chunk of money for it ($400+), a lot has opened up. It gave me the ability to explore the city without a car. I can relate to Amy (as well as my TKD colleagues) in a new way. I also look at bicyclists in a new light of reverence.

It’s quite something to be exercising again. This is something where it’s 95% injury-friendly, vs. the 75% rating I get from jogging. Plus, unlike jogging, I can traverse longer distances. And I’m getting used to riding it like a car (that is, moving to the left turn lane). At first I was timid, but after a bit of practice (not to mention driving down El Camino), I’m getting used to cutting in between waves of cars—not perfect yet, but getting there.

So what makes bicycling so versatile? Well…

For one, I’m able to use virtually all types of ground—everything short of stairs and highways. I can ride on the roads for the long haul, skip to sidewalks when I want a break, ride through parks, even park my bike inside a building if duly necessary. For the first time I rode down a bike trail—it was fucking amazing. I rode all the way past Shoreline Amphitheatre to the lake at the end. Through straightaways, over bridges and under expressways, and finally arriving at nature—the journey itself was the most rewarding.

Yesterday, during the lost cellphone debacle, I drove over to the post office to check on its status. After all, I was under the impression it should’ve arrived already, but I had to fetch the tracking code. Jr’s (mortal) dad had the code and wasn’t there yet, so I had to wait. Two hours later (4:30-ish) I get a note that the mailman had my package but no one answered the door (Typical, actually) and that the package is at the post office. Without a moment to spare, I headed there on bike (since they close at 5). I make it before closing time and wait in line. Once I got up to the line, they said they didn’t have my package—a mailman from the ‘other’ office made the note and that it’ll be held there. Oh, and also they close at 5:30. Said office is in the north end of the city, so I darted out immediately. My body worked against me though—I was in regular jeans and flip-flops—sweat city along with the leg cuffs hitting against the main gears—oh, and I ate just a while before w/o water. Not just that, nature also worked against me with a strong southerly wind as I biked north. Despite ‘altering’ it, it remained constant throughout my tenure. Also, the other post office was a lot farther than I had imagined—4 miles away according to Google Maps. Despite my own thoughts of giving up and thinking it was pointless; with the long string of red lights; I snapped out of it and pressed on—definitely the one shining moment where I ignore such thoughts. I gave it all I could—mind body and spirit—and it paid off. No sooner than I parked my bike inside and waited in line, the guy closed the front doors. I was elated, but exhausted. My lungs had the feeling of resting for a long time, then spastically working at full capacity—then lingering like I’ll catch asthma. Blegh. But I stabilized with some water and a well-deserved breather. Most importantly I got my cell back. Finally! I cycled through 20 messages left during the week, then took my 'victory lap' back home.

Fetching my cell proved an interesting insight. How do you solve a problem? Replace it with a bigger problem! Before I was moping about not having the phone and wondering how to replace it. The problem was trumped by mailman’s note, which then was trumped by the closing post office—both of them—and finally the grueling bike trek to the second post office in tandem with the unreasonably short time required to make it.

All in all, a test. It was all or nothing—a make or break. And I made it with flying colors. Which goes to show when I ignore the superficial crap going on in my head and think straight, I can do wonders.

I wondered what all those days of despair had been for.
My muddy soul rose from the depths of the bogs...
came in contact with clean air and light...
and for the first time, I knew what it meant to live.
(Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei)

Now that I've effectively killed off 80% of my readership... I can move on to the main point of my return:

I've thrown away my past.

And now I'm working towards my future.

Though I must say, ignorance was bliss. I lived in a constant state of powerlessness and fear. A tiresome routine of hope and bullshit. I've feared the past and dwelt on all types of failures: from groundbreaking all the way to self-contrived. I considered my dad the bane of all existence--I've blamed the world on him; feared of becoming him. I've kept a very small circle of friends--compatriots if you will--that I could depend on and relate to the most--as well as a handful of examples of failures of life to scoff at, just so I can look good in front of people. For what? Just to be 'accepted' into some set of unspoken standard of society. And there was a failing relationship without any resolve to end it. A tight network of reasons and excuses connected all these facets of living together, forming a 'safety web' if you will.

And then I was subjected to a series of epiphanies. These epiphanies were small and brief, but incurred a direct and lasting impact. Little-by-little. My past unearthed and exposed. All the crap I dealt stared at my face. Worse yet, I held on to shit that happened years before and in turn, ran my life, affecting things that have yet to be. So I started to come to terms with 'that past'.

I've let go of the death grip of hate over my dad. And all of a sudden we can talk to each other. Normally. Yeah there's some intermittent yelling from time to time, but now it doesn't get to me. We can sit in the same car and not irritate each other. Hell, we were fixing tires together.

I've started to open myself to regular people and disclose things that'd normally be reserved to my closest of friends. From then, a world of possibilities have opened up. For once I realized the ability to befriend anyone. I've stopped thinking that I'm not good enough to relate.

In turn the outset of what I've done yielded other unexpected results: I've accepted myself for who I am instead of living with all this self-doubt and remorse (Hell, I refer to myself by my entire first name, rather than just the shortened version). Why does that make any sense? Who knows--maybe all of my lies from trying to look good before affected my self-esteem that much. Also, I've noticed my voice has altered. It's hard to make out, but when I speak candidly, it's as if I'm speaking through someone else.

And granted I've gotten some backlash from telling the truth. One relationship and two friendships went to shit. But whatever--it's one of those "had it coming" moments--I've played the losing end of that long enough. Too much 'looking good' and 'hoping things would turn out for the best' killed anything of the sort.

Aside from the 'bump in the road', a lot of other things have come up. Before I would relentlessly bitch (mostly to myself) about the rising gas prices. But earlier this week I got out of my lazy ass and picked up a bicycle. And y'know what? It felt exhilarating. Goin' around the neighborhood, tackling the bike lanes, getting exercise, solving my gas issue. Getting a bike solved a lot of my issues single-handedly. Also, it's a lot of fucking fun. I have a new outlet to relate to people--more importantly my old co-workers/colleagues from TKD. (Oh, how time has passed)

On the other hand, few things still remain. My bruised ribs--now at 6 months and counting--have yet to fully heal. I wonder... has my injury gone past its mark? Am I faced with a chronic condition, or is it just incredibly stubborn? Also, can I accept that I like to flaunt my talents shamelessly at people? Sure there's Martial Arts and my other latent ability--but can I be myself without a need to censor or hide it?

Well I've gone this far, why stop now...

(not part of the previous canon)

Guess it seems that the more I'm 'aware' of things, the stranger things are in actuality. Case in point: my family had live crab for dinner. When it was all said and done, I took a piece of it and headed up to continue studying. And it didn't hit me until I started to look at it before I began eating: the soup and the sauce reeked of death. Even though the thing was long dead by the time it was done, I could still sense the shivers of it being boiled alive. In all, I was only able to nibble on some of it before I couldn't have any more.

Then, as I tried to sleep, I could feel a lingering... a flashback if you will. A mere crustacean sidestepping about on the ocean floor, minding it's own business, then all of a sudden being hoisted all the way up onto a fishing boat, followed by being tossed in a crowded container with its brethren before seeing light -- only to be thrown in a pot of boiling water. Now normally I don't think of food in this light at all -- I eat hamburgers, pizza, and sushi like everyone else. But this was different. The crab's soul lingered -- tried to haunt me as it screamed in pain after death (and as we all know, crabs can't scream). So I did what anyone in my position would do and I laid its soul to rest.

But it's given me an interesting thought. Maybe live food isn't the best idea after all. It's one thing to have it shipped to you in pieces, but for you to actually do the deed plays it like you're the murderer. Though I wasn't downstairs when the cooking happened, I still see its eyes fixated on my mom right before it's dropped into its watery grave.

A grim thought? Maybe. But I'm not about to give up being a carnivore anytime soon... until I start working at a slaughterhouse. *rolls eyes*

(Warning: Shit is long)

So this week was fraught with late assignments, lack of sleep, and stress all around. Mainly I was quick to blame someone or something when things weren't going my way. Among the week, the apex of my stressing point occurred on Wed. (I work at the Santa Clara office for the month of May, so I'm thrown into a new environment with different sets of rules) On this day, I had several points to address: My oral presentation (practically my first one ever), a paper to turn in for Art class, work, and a meeting for some extra credit deal (where I help an ESL student with their english); as well as reservations for the hotel.

Through a handy tip, I planned to take a nap the night before, wake up at 10, and planned to type out the presentation for 2 hours, then sleep for 6. When I woke up and got online though, I came up on a major snag: the hotel reservation site was acting up and I wasn't able to reserve a room--saying that all rooms have been filled. 'What the shit?' I said. I bugged Sky about it and she then took it up to her higher ups. Meanwhile my brain was being fried with an incomplete--let alone unrehearsed --presentation looming over... in tandem with being tired. Two hours of writing later (it was about 1), I stopped--knowing it was crap to begin with. The outline I drawn out made me sound arrogant and all-knowing. I proceeded to sleep at 1:30, (but with a growling stomach and adrenaline pumping, I didn't get to bed 'till 3:30). I then woke up at 6 and struggled against my body's wishes to sleep or relax to churn out the index cards (as well as to redo the outline) Before I knew it it was 8. I practice my presentation a little bit before taking off to class.

While my speech wasn't due 'till 4:30, I would have no time to work on it at all. During an Art class video, I laid out my index cards for Speech class and revised them (under the guise that I was taking notes). Once class was over 'round 10, I headed straight for work. Now usually I'm able to somewhat get away with working early so I can leave early, but my manager (from the SJ office) said no--I'd have to leave at 3 (Which sucks for me, because I was planning on making the last of the ESL meeting which go from 1:30-3:30). So rather than make up for my lack of sleep, I rehearsed the presentation some more in the break room. (The guidelines recommend that I practice at least 4 days in advance. And due to my lack of time management, I do everything on the last (frozen with anxiety over the previous three))

When I started work, I was the most hectic spot I could be in. Along with calling customers, I had to tend to inventory as well, meaning I had zero time to take a breather (Even worse, I had a disgruntled customer right before I took my break--my manager even pulled me out of my 15 min reprieve to help her again. God damnit.). And of course the best of all, my last customer of the day took their sweet time, even though it was near the 3:00 mark already. Along with that, my ESL tutee was texting me, asking if I'll make it to the meeting on time (I say yes of course, because I have a dehabilitating psychological disease which forbids me from saying "no").

Out of work, I'm stressed and tired. I figure that I have to squeeze in some time to grab a 3G Energizer from Jamba Juice in between the meeting and the presentation. And then, as I'm parking at the school, I get a text saying "the meeting already finished". Fuck. Ah well, that also meant I could focus more time on rehearsing. So I head to the shopping center on foot to Jamba Juice and enjoy my little reprieve there. It was 3:30--Dasair was in the middle of class--so I had to practice solo. After I picked it up I walked to Memorial Park just nearby the school. I rehearsed what I had to say at the center stage of this natural amphitheater, bordered by a man-made creek. For the most part I was talking to ducks and the occasional passer-by.

And then finally, class. Thankfully I went first; I hate to have to hold my presentation until near the end. I had to weed some outline topics for time (5 min limit), but in place I added some humor and more personal stuff (presentation's about me after all... *rolls eyes*). 5 mins and 10 secs later it was over. I sunk to the back of the room where the teacher observed it and said "You have a good sense of humor". So finally it was done. But I wasn't through yet. I agreed to meet with my ESL tutee after her class. She got off at 5:45, and since I was let out early on Mon (at the same time), it seemed perfect. We'd get out at the same for Wed, right?

Wrong.

The class went through its full tenure--6:10. By the time 5:45 rolled by, I could sense my tutee coming out of class and wondering where I am, as well as texting me. Problem was I couldn't answer--my class had their phones off for Speech. I looked nervously at the clock. 5:50... 5:55... 6... By the time 6:03 rolled by, I couldn't take it anymore. I walked out of class to give her a call and poured out this lengthy heartfelt apology. But in reality? She couldn't understand a thing I said (LOL WUT). So with as much butchered English as I could muster (without it sounding broken), I agreed to meet at 6:10.

The mini-meeting went without a hitch. I met her and her friend, and we set a day to meet up to have a conversation (Oh, that'll be fun... I just know it *rolls eyes*) next week. So from there, I drive on home, watch Soul Eater and Bleach, to prepare to sleep at 8-ish.

And then...

"Jiiiiiiiiiii~"

Angy drops in my room. With Scott!

Holy shit, I was like in boxers and they both show up. Eh... Well, I go forth and show them Soul Eater (since Bleach wasn't subbed yet) and grab some food (was starving by now). Scott props down by my bed to play Halo on his laptop (yes, the original). Angy borrows mine to pick out a custom pic for the staff badge. And all awhile, I'm dead tired. I needed sleep. But the agonizing thought of not being able to get a room was fucking with me. Like hell I'm gonna drive to and from the place for all three days! At $4.40 a gallon? (Yes, that is a diesel car) So I checked periodically to see if Sky gave me some new info on the reg problem, but to no avail.

It's 10 and I still wasn't asleep. Angy decided to 'take a nap' on my bed (even though she has her own BED and ROOM). "I set the alarm. Can you wake me when it goes off?" And I was pissed. As great as it was to have the two there (seemingly unannounced), this day was a fucking bad time. But I tolerated it somewhat because Scott was there and we were talking about stuff. But by the time 11:00 rolled by (can you believe it?) I had my fill. I picked up Angy's stuff, tossed it in her room, and verbally evicted them. "Well Scott, it was great having you here and everything, but I'm tired and I need my sleep, so thanks for dropping by, and g-t-f-o." He laughed. They took off. And I slept.

And slept.

Although Thursday was a low-key day for me, nevertheless the aftereffects from Wednesday transferred over. Work was fine (and school was neutral), but I was fatigued the whole day. Add to that I was gonna pick Dasair up on Fri to send her back on Sat, then back here on noon was grossly unappealing to me. I hadn't the energy at all--to watch over her AS WELL AS to somehow get all my assignments done on-time. So, for once(?) I made an assertive decision to take a break for the next few days. After all, it's evident that I can't do such work with other people around. Plus? ALL I DO IS CATER TO OTHER PEOPLE. Holy shit! I barely ever get time for myself. I mean really. All of that without any me-time to unwind is evident enough why I'm steadily losing my mind.

Perhaps this is my emotional side of my brain talking.

So... after my shitty math class, I went straight to Auran's house (no, not Walgreens) and played a little GTA. Oh, it felt good. At first I was nervous, going AM I DOIN IT RITE every two mins, but an hour in I was enjoying it. There's something to be said about running people over and shooting at cops after a tiring and strenuous work/school week. Here I can do all of that and not face prison time. *sigh of exasperation*

A little while later, Myron calls me up, asking me to jog. I said yes (SHIT!). So I head home to start to change, when I realized--"hey, my ribs worsened since the last time we jogged. I really shouldn't jog at all." Assertively I called him and canceled our little meetup. And instead? I played Command & Conquer. Yes, the original. For 5 hours. I was gonna call it quits after 11, but I played right up 'till 3 in the morn. Of course I had that 'shit, why did I play for so long, blahblahblah...' afterthought, and knew I'd only have 5-6 hours of sleep, but I felt like playing. When I was done, I felt physically weak. Seems like the gaming addiction set in, because I didn't feel hungry until I stopped. After a bit of food, I slept at around 4.

Now here's the strange part:

At 9 I woke up. Yes I was tired. Yes I was groggy. But I felt great. How can I possibly sleep for 5 hours after all that and feel great? I have no idea. But it seems that I finally gave myself the me-time I was longing for. I did something I loved. Aside from martial arts, yes. I mean, it's no WoW. There is no point in the game where Command & Conquer becomes work. There's no sign on at 5 for the raid, or pvp 24/7 for gear, no.

It's just pure, unadulterated fun.

Shit gets blown up, shit gets destroyed. Overwhelm the opposition with tactics and numbers. If shit sucks, I simply load it back to where it was. And I did, oh well.

Maybe that's what I need to do. Rather than crowd myself with people to feel better, maybe I should just take a walk by myself and not worry about being by myself. Sociability issues aside, meh. I talk to people on a daily basis. If I feel like it, I'll toss in some off-work conversation.

But leave me be afterward.

I shouldn't feel guilty for being selfish. Sure, it sucks for you that you're not having a good day, but should I genuinely care? Sure, it sparks good conversation, but c'mon. I've been doing customer service since I was 15.

Even I need a fucking break once in a while.

It is past the two month mark since I've undergone 'treatment' for this injury. And since then? Fuck all nothing. Don't get me wrong, I've seen progress and up to the beginning of this week, but two things happened. 1) I lied down on my stomach (once) and 2) I mashed buttons furiously on Dynasty Warriors 6 (For three hours). The result of the two brought forth my rib condition back to its former status: moving and hurting.

*sigh*

The main problem why it keeps resurfacing is due to things that I do on a regular basis (None of which are even Martial Arts). Regular things like lying down, carrying a backpack, rotating a steering wheel--ALL irritate my right side. Nevermind I can't punch or kick--even stretching irritates it. Usually I'm the guy wastefully running around 'like a gazelle', going to parks to swing my sword around, meditate and whatnot. Now I'm just stuck meditating.

Suppose I'm injured for a reason--something I have not yet to accept. For one, I got injured while snowboarding--an activity I haven't taken part in for a couple of years. Can the reason be lack of experience? No, anyone can get injured (Though experience can work wonders). Can it be going snowboarding? Well of course it led to it, but of course I can get killed too! But rather, the one moment that made it all the difference... was my own karma. Something so insignificant as missing my Karate/Aikido final over a video game can lead me to this? It was all I was thinking about, on top of missing my belt test at the end of December, as well as the months of anguish of 'being able to do nothing'.

To me, this has been a long fucking letdown. Aside from having one heavy crutch to bear, I have the greatest hindrance to my own cure: me. Anything I do aside from sitting down and walking can bring it back. Mental fortitude amongst all else will see my health through. But will I stand to endure another month of 'doing nothing'? Can I?

It's a typical 6am ritual: get up-put on clothes-eat breakfast-drink vitamins-get to school sort of thing. All go as planned up to the drinking vitamins part: I take in two glucosamine pills with a small serving of cranberry juice and swallow. Only this time, just one goes down. WTF, I thought. The remaining one danced around my throat; a wet pill that missed the party and stands around feeling sorry for itself. I thought I was choking for a bit, hearing gurgling sounds mixed with a little bit of head pressure trying to right itself. I tried to cough or puke it out, but to no avail--it lodged itself behind the tonsils and parked in the damp nasal cavity. Fucking great, I said to myself. I tried drinking some fluid to free it from its hold, but only one problem: there was no fucking way to get it out. Granted it wasn't blocking any passages, but come on--it's not fucking swallowed.

So I said 'fuck it' and head to school/work. Throughout the morning, I participated with a less than usual fervor of other days--taking breaks to invent ways to get the sucker out. One method that's proved to be somewhat progress was to exhale through my nose; that way to generate moisture in my nasal cavity. It proved to be somewhat effective--the pill would kind of slide down enough to induce a swallow, but as I do, the pill goes back up somehow. Other ideas were to get a nosebleed or get sick enough to have a runny nose--problem is that the weather is hardly producing either.

So I try something different--head to Chipotle after work and eat something spicy (with loads of hot sauce). I piled on the Tabasco to heat up my sinuses to produce something. When it got moist enough, I snort all of it in to go down my nasal cavity. No effect.

Later on I try Ramen in the evening time. Now there's something that always induces runny noses. Ramen + hot sauce + oil + ???? = Profit? Sadly no.

Okay, maybe the shower before bed will do it. By now it appears to be more mobile and receptive to whatever I do to it. Hell, it slides down if I leave it alone. Hopefully before I get to sleep it'll actually go down the esophagus (and not the windpipe while sleeping), but as it is... IT'S STILL IN MY NASAL CAVITY! Goddamnit.

18 hours and counting...

Something in school today got me thinking. If you can’t start a paper, clearly you have to freewrite (or something to that extent) to get the thinking process going. It is rather simple if you think about it. The brain muscle is like any other muscle in the body: when it is trained and properly conditioned, it’ll function better. All of the concepts of Martial Arts and Sports go well hand in hand with Writing. Same goes with Cinema, but I’ll get to that later. It turns out that a large process of writing isn’t in writing, but re-writing. Indeed, the great novelists that have moved on and built a legacy for themselves would agree – writing isn’t easy. One must be well-conditioned and adept to change in order for their work to do itself justice. Even as I speak, one must throw away any forms of critique from the beginning if any creative flow is to be done.

Why is it then? Why are we led to believe that writing is in fact, easy? Why and how are we to believe that the great writers do not have and did not have any difficulty in what they make? Surely this skill that they’ve mastered had to have come from somewhere, why are we to think they’re so high and mighty to put them on a pedestal and worship the very ground they’ve walked on, while all along thinking “Oh, I’ll never become as good as them. I’ll just try to, but fail in quality.” Right. Because we all know that a skill is inherited, not learned. Bullshit. I think otherwise. Rather, I know otherwise. People every day struggle to slave behind a keyboard or pen and paper to make literary sense of the world so that future generations (or at least their boss/teacher) can appreciate them the same way they do the great writers of the world. Come off it. Who doesn’t have had doubt in what they wrote? What they made? It’s purely nonsensical garbage to think that the perfect idea is just that – perfect. When rather it is really the time and care in revising a work where they begin to produce worth. It is at none other time when this happens.

Let’s think about it: To do an essay, I’ll have to make a piece that is orderly and rich in content. Sure, I can do that – seems easy enough… at first! But then what happens, the sheer size and scale of the project becomes an intimidating factor, so as such with being a perfectionist to want to get the “maximum score ever possible”. Even if such were warranted – even valid, the person that grades the paper is still just one person – one singular human being with their own values and traits, as well as biases and conceptions. Pleasing their eye is just that, pleasing that one person. What about “Joe Shmo” over in San Luis Obispo? What does he think? Or “Sally Somebody” in Richmond, Ohio? Surely she has some worth in opining. And lest not forget “Grand General Douchebag” sitting in the Oval Office, what does he have to say? Rather, I don’t want to think about it.

There’s a lot of people in the world that can benefit, suffer, or become indifferent to your work. What are they, and why do they care? Why should I care? If I get an A in one class, it won’t mean jack shit to another person – clearly not (academics aside). It’s just affirming, “Hey, I’m worth something. Why? Because I got an A on my paper.” Certainly a different teacher would look at it and say “It’s good, but you lack substance here and here. There’s not enough explanation in this part, so you get a C.” Get my point?

A teacher is just that, a teacher. Same with a boss. Though they have their criteria and their 9-5 quota to fulfill, they’re still just people with an opinion. There are “easy graders” and “stick-up-the-asses” wherever you go. Your only safeguard from that is a recommendation from a friend, neighbor, or website even. From that, do you really learn by ‘avoiding certain people,’ by choosing teachers purely by preference (work schedule aside)? No. Lest said teacher is a nut-for-brain incompetent lunatic that doesn’t know right from wrong, but who’s to say? A teacher is a teacher. So they teach a certain way, big fucking deal. Ease shouldn’t be a preference in deciding a teacher. Now ‘efficiency’, that’s more like it. You want a teacher that cuts out the middleman and gets straight to the point. Sure, two hours can be used up for discussion, but where is it all going? What is it for? Is it to prove a point, or is it just killing time? And when a student asks you repeatedly about a particular question – nay – students ask… is it the student’s fault for not paying attention? Is it your fault for not being clear? Reason as to why these things must be considered. Academia asks for a lot out of a student. It vies for their time, their money (chiefly), their commitment to excel. And what do you get out of it; do you get an easy A? Or a hard one? An F for not caring or not spending enough time? Or the middle-of-the-road C for a balanced mix of caring and not? These things are important. These things are not important. Nothing is if you don’t care. And if you care too much, you miss the big picture.

What can you bring to the card table of life? Where is your worth? Your sense of being, of becoming something greater? Where is your indecisive freedom, your apprehensive liberty and periless sympathy?

Come back to me when you have that answer.

Dismissed.

Here's a conversation with Auran just a few hours back:

Auran: Hello?
Me: Hi. Where are you?
Auran: At home... I'm at home.
Me: Ah. *pause* Well I have a problem.
Auran: What, what's -
Me: My car broke down and I'm stuck in Milpitas. I was wondering if...
Auran: Nah dude, don't ask me. I don't know how to get there. Plus it's probably raining and-
Me: Yeah, it is raining. I'm stuck outside in all this rain and it's cold. Please, it's an emergency.
Auran: Dude, you shouldn't ask me. What about all the other people you know with cars?
Me: Believe me, I know. I've called everyone, but they didn't answer their phone. You're the last person that could possibly help.
Auran: Well why are you bothering calling me? Isn't there someone else?
Me: I tried AAA, but they turned me down because "my membership expired." Even though my card said 2007, they said my membership was expired since '06. So I can't get a tow truck at all.
Auran: Well, have you tried calling a taxi? I'm sure they could get you back...
Me: Yeah, but the problem is the cost. I can't afford the trip back home. It costs far less to ask you.
Auran: Well even if I could, I don't even know how to get there.
Me: Dude, it isn't a problem. I can tell you how. It's so easy.
Auran: C'mon man, it's night. It's dark and I can't find my way there. I'll get lost.
Me: You won't get lost. I'll tell you the directions.
Auran: Dude, I'll get lost. I got lost driving to Fry's the first time. Took me an hour to find the place. Well at least I know where it is now, but still.
Me: Look, all you have to do is look it up on like Google Maps or something. I'll even tell you the address.
Auran: Can't you ask someone else, like David?
Me: David?
Auran: My friend, you know him.
Me: Well I do, but...
Auran: He went to Milpitas. He's probably still there. He went there yesterday.
Me: Um... that's fine and all but I'm asking you.
Auran: Dude, I haven't gone to Milpitas. I don't know my way there. I'll get lost.
Me: Auran, it's so easy to get here. It's piss easy, even. Have you ever been to McCarthy Ranch?
Auran: No?
Me: You mean you've never seen it before?
Auran: I don't know what you're talking about.
Me: McCarthy Ranch is a little corner that's in between of 880 and 237.
Auran: I don't know what they are.
Me: You've never been to 237?
Auran: I don't even know where that is.
Me: Have you never seen 880 before?
Auran: Nope, never.
Me: *frustrated* Ugh, you gotta be kidding me. Have you ever taken 101?
Auran: Nope, I've never been on any highways before. It's dark and it's wet out there...
Me: Auran, I'm asking you a big favor. We're stuck out here in Milpitas, in the rain, in the cold, at night. My car's broken down. Can you possibly, by some way, pick us up?
Auran: Why are you asking me?
Me: Look, you don't even have to take the highways if you don't want to. You can take Tasman all the way here. Tasman will get you to where we are.
Auran: Wait, "we"? Who's we?
Me: Uh, my sis. We went here for some dinner and can't get out.
Auran: Well, let me see if I can call my friend to possibly come and pick you up. My friend Scott...
Me: Your friend Scott?
Auran: Yeah. He's a co-worker at Walgreens.
Me: Well before you give him a call, at least jot this address down so you can look it up.
Auran: Dude, I can't go on my own. I'll get lost.
Me: Why don't you look up the address so you won't, then?
Auran: I'll still get lost.
Me: C'mon, man. It's so easy, it's near impossible to get lost.
Auran: Yeah right, watch me. I told you I got lost my way to Fry's that one time.
Me: Yeah, but this is different. I'm in a huge ass shopping center. From 237 you exit McCarthy Blvd, and you make a right, then a left. And boom, Milpitas Square.
Auran: I'm still gonna get lost.
Me: You can't possibly get lost. Surrounding the shopping center is... nothing. Just open space. That and maybe the Crown Plaza Hotel.
Auran: Nah, I'll still get lost.
Me: How can you? Have you ever seen the Crown Plaza Hotel?
Auran: Well I've been to the one in San Jose.
Me: Uh right. At least you know what it looks like?
Auran: No, I've only been to the San Jose one. I don't know the one in Milpitas.
Me: Come on. If you drive on 237, you'll see it. Crown Plaza Hotel is the only building here that stands 13 floors high. You can't miss it.
Auran: Even still, lemme call my friend and see if he can make it. Hold on.
*He calls his friend, then calls back*
Auran: Hello?
Me: What did your friend say?
Auran: He'll get back to me on that.
Me: Ugh. What I'm saying is that if I give you the address and show you the way, you won't get lost.
Auran: Nah, it'll be better this way. I have to take the Mercedes over there anyway...
Me: Right...
Auran: ...so if he can, he'll meet me at my place, then drive my car on to Milpitas.
Me: (What the hell is wrong with him?) You know you can save all that trouble by looking the address up, right? And driving down here yourself?
Auran: No, man. It's dark and I don't wanna drive by myself. I don't even believe I can make it over there.
Me: Why not? It's-
Auran: I don't trust myself.
Me: But I trust you. I'm stuck here in Milpitas and I know you can make it here if you just believe. It's simple.
Auran: Nah, man. I don't think I can make it. I have to wait for my friend to call back to see if he can or not.
Me: *finds out that Angy's bf is on the way to pick us up* Look, if you only think you can, you can make it. I mean, have you ever been to AMC Mercado?
Auran: I don't know how to get there.
Me: Do you at least know the place?
Auran: I don't know! I'll get lost!
Me: That's not the point. Have you ever been to Mercado?
Auran: Well yeah...
Me: Okay. I-
Auran: Like a year ago.
Me: ...Right. If you know what Mercado at least looks like...
Auran: ...a year ago.
Me: Whatever. If you do, you know that there's a highway that intersects it, right?
Auran: Yeah, but I don't know how to get there.
Me: Whatever! You at least know there's a highway, right?
Auran: Yeah... but I still don't know what it is.
Me: It's 101.
Auran: Still don't know how-
Me: Yeah, yeah. Anyway, Mercado is a shopping center, just like Milpitas Square. It's right by the highway. All you'll have to do is drive down the highway, exit, make a right and a left, and you'll find us no problem. It's by far the easiest drive you could possibly do.
Auran: ...but-
Me: And you can do it. I know you can.
Auran: Dude, I can't go there on my own. It's impossible.
Me: *sigh of exasperation* Uggh, fine whatever. You're the only one who says you can't. And I say you can. If you don't believe you can, then there really is no other possible way.
Auran: Well I'm still waiting for a reply from Scott. If you wait for another half hour...
Me: I can't. I've been out here for an hour in the cold and I'm not gonna wait any longer. We'll just find our way back somehow.
Auran: Aw... you sure?
Me: Yes, I'm sure.
Auran: Cause I could have Scott drive my car over there...
Me: It's fine. We'll manage somehow. I'll just uh... catch you sometime later.
Auran: Oh, alright.
Me: Bye then.
Auran: Late.

And that's the gut-wrenching 20 mins of failure that only Auran is capable of. By the time I found out we had another ride, my goal - however useless - was to instill some sort of possibility of accomplishing the task. Of course he fails this time, but at some undisclosed point in the future, he'll actually consider *gasp* driving on the highway.

Until then...

AURAN IS ANOTHER WORD FOR FAILURE

See, this shit wouldn't happen if Kamina dropped in and threw a sucker punch at his face and gave him a lesson in "believing in oneself." Or Captain Falcon - either or.

"You're going to have to put off any activities that involve exerting your body... for two months."

God fucking damnit. That involves everything I hold dear (martial arts, working out, etc). Only thing that is really left from the physical category is... walking. Sure, walking - even hiking if I can muster it. Even so, in all this rain? The hills are currently in no shape to be treaded on at all! And walking's a joke when I caught a cold post on New Years (walking around in Hayward without a jacket seemed to have done it) But I digress.

So two weeks ago I went on a snowboarding trip (which I haven't done in probably four years) with my friend Myron and his little brother. On that two-day outing, I took a lot of falls. Of them, a good majority were good enough to roll out of and continue (actually good for the body); however just a handful of those falls were serious hits and couldn't be averted. One to the knee (I was surprised, I fell in snow! Perhaps it was ice?), two to the back of the head (one of those high-speed falls where rolling was impossible), and finally two to the chest. Out of all the falls I've taken, the latter two were the most devastating. It felt as if something mechanical struck a heavy blow to the right side of my chest - seeing that I've not taken a hit like that as far as I can remember. I got up rather cautiously, but I seemed fine.

As if the first blow wasn't bad enough... the second one felt just as significant. One time we were being lifted to a medium area. Time was running out and the possibility of taking a breather was in mind (after we took a long enough one not too long ago). I said, "Nah, we don't need to take one. Let's go and take the routes on." Just as we got off, our boards tangled with one another and we all fell. Just so happens that my fall struck directly on the right side of my chest - once again. I cried in pain and used as many expletives as possible. (And let me tell you... getting off the lift is the LEAST dangerous and likely place to get injured!)

"On second thought, taking a breather would be a good idea," I reconvened.

I felt notably drained and needed to rest. For the first time I laid flat on the floor on my back, right in front of the Red Cross hut. Certainly I felt dead enough that I didn't want to continue, but not enough to be ushered out in a Red Cross snowmobile. I took it easy on the way down and managed to leave on my own two feet.

Granted my Snowboarding skill is far better that it ever was, I had to pay a steep price for it. For one I had to forego medical attention. An X-ray showed that my ribcage wasn't broken thankfully; a thorough check indicated that the surrounding cartilage for one of my ribs was messed up (something that Sky later confirmed). As a result, I am subjected to wear a "rib belt": a strap around my chest to bear for the next month or so.

Out of all this? It is strange. Due to the injury, I can't do what I love to do best. Granted I don't feel like a cripple: walking - even light jogging - shouldn't be that much of a problem. Certainly doing work-related tasks is still a cakewalk. But I don't know. Not being able to do martial arts now is like taking the skis away from the skier; the race car away from the race car driver. It's crippling a runner's legs; giving a singer laryngitis. Even though this is a relatively short period of time, it's dislodged me from my "comfort zone." I have to wear a fucking "rib belt"! On top of that, I can't lie on my stomach, or crunch my abs to get up. It's frustrating.

Of course, it could always be worse. I could've actually cracked or broken my ribcage. Hell, I could've snapped my neck while snowboarding. But then who's to say I wouldn't have any of that happen while doing martial arts? The thing is shit happens. However one has the will to form the result.

Eventually my body will right itself and I'll be able to go back to everything as normal. Until then I'll have to wait the whole thing out.