Unexpected Delays

                I made a 40 hour trip from Manila to Macomb. The only problem is it should only take 22 hours. I spent an extra 18 hours in Detroit. Which is definitely an adventure that I would add to “just keep your composure, and you’ll make it through” moments of my life.

See, my earlier flight from Japan to Detroit landed 50 minutes late, and since it was my port of entry to the US, I had to go through customs. As a result, I missed my next flight, and was scheduled for the same flight four hours later. So as I wandered aimlessly around the Detroit Airport, I spent a lot of time thinking of where my first meal in America should be. The resounding answer in my mind was the most American thing I could think of, Taco Bell. I had it and it was overpriced, but it was delicious. They have almost all of the fast food chains in the Philippines too; just no country will ever out do USA in unhealthy food. Anyway, when I returned to the departing gate, an earlier flight to Harrisburg was sitting there thirty minutes after its scheduled departure and still had no crew. So my flight was pushed back another two hours, and I had to call my brother waiting to drive me home to take the two hour drive back, without me. I later learned there was a small surprise party waiting for me there. Eventually after waiting the two hours, my flight was cancelled, and I had a small freak out. I had no idea what to do about that.

Eventually, after following the mass of angry people I found the assistance desk, behind a line of 100 angry people. Everyone around was in so much anger, while I was just honestly scared, I’m hardly an adult and I had to spend the night alone in Detroit. I looked up a few crime facts about Detroit, and that was not a good idea. There was a family behind me, with two small girls. They were in tears, they just wanted to get home, and I just wanted to get home too. They kept looking to me for reassurance; I was the closest to their age. I kept smiling and mouthing “It’s okay” and they seemed to relax a bit.  Eventually after about 2 hours of waiting in line, I received a new flight in the morning to a different city, but it was much earlier than my other choices. I was given a hotel room and three meals.

Everyone still sat in anger on the way to the hotels, but there was nothing any of us could do anymore. So I took advantage of the small opportunities I was given. For example, I took a bath, a real bath for the first time in years. I probably shouldn’t have done it in a questionable hotel room, but it was worth it. Then I spend the next few hours thinking of bad jokes about airlines, “hey, maybe you should buy me dinner and a hotel room before screwing me over next time” I was pretty proud of that one.

I eventually did make it back home, except my luggage was sent to a different airport. At that point, it was something I expected. My friends and family were angrier than I was. I guess I saw how anger and yelling got people nowhere, and when I eventually reached the assistance desk, they were more than willing to help a calm customer that just wanted to get home. I was always told that my level head was a good characteristic, but this was the first experience where I actually felt I benefited. In the end, I’ll sum it up with a new popular slogan, “Keep calm and carry on.” Sometimes, regardless of age, there are people looking at you. You may be a leader, and have no idea people are following. It’s best to act with a calm mind and always be an example.

Iniwan ko ang aking puso sa Metro Manila (I left my heart in Metro Manila)

                Here it is, the last day in the Philippines before I fly back to the States.  I don’t want to leave; the massive floods don’t want me to leave either. I have a lot waiting for me in Macomb, my parents, my brother, and all the friends I’ve gained along the way. The excitement to see them is drowned out by the sadness I have from leaving. Macomb molded me through tough love and lessons from disappointment. Metro Manila transformed me with open arms and a warm heart. Maybe all my romanticism, all of my unrealistic hopes, dreams, and love belong in Metro Manila. Macomb is just a stone wall where my hopes, dreams, and love get smacked in the face. Here, I believe people are basically good and they do everything they can to prove it to me. There, I believe people are basically good and they do everything they can to take advantage of me. Macomb broke my heart, while Metro Manila stole it.  

                I’m leaving with a lot more than what I came with. It’s not just gifts or money; it’s a lot of intangibles. Knowledge and respect are big ones, but I knew I would leave with at least those two. The small unexpected things are the ones I truly cherish. First, the feeling of belonging. Next are the friends I’ve met. A lot of them, I may never see again, but there will always be memories. There are a few good friends I’ve made that I would do anything short of moving half way around the world to keep close. I guess you can see the unfortunate nature in that. One girl, so subtly pushed me to do things and learn things I would have never done or learned. Here I am writing more, because I was in awe at her writing and everything she had done with her life. She’s just two years older than me, but if I was half as successful and half as outstanding as her in five years, I would be truly happy. She’s almost too pretty to be real, much like the girls I’ve met out of shallowness and held on tightly to out of necessity. Yet, there’s no necessity with her, just genuine friendship.

                There’s a few things I lost that are also worth noting. Most noticeably, is ten pounds of weight which is solely a testament to my discipline. That’s pretty unimportant in relation to everything else though. The biggest thing is my shell. It may even still be there, but I open up to interaction with others way easier. Maybe because I felt attacked in Illinois, but safe here. I used to say as little as possible, but now there’s things I want to say because I've learned they’re worth listening to. I have a sense of self confidence now, though it may still need some fine tuning. I guess that goes back under what I’ve gained.

                In the end, I can’t wait to return. Maybe see those friends I thought I’d never see again. Maybe pursue the two or three promising friendships I made. Whenever I do come back, whether for a visit or forever, I’ll feel whole again. Part of me isn’t coming back on that plane. Part of me is staying. Iniwan ko ang aking puso sa Metro Manila.

Goodbye to Good People.

                My internship just ended. It makes me feel empty knowing I may never see the ten or more people that I interacted with for twenty three days. I never got a sense of who they were, just how they acted.  They were all interesting people, good people. Everyone was different, each a lifetime of different experiences mixed together. I’ll never even get a real taste of what they lived. They have their own stories to tell, and I’m sure they’re all worth listening to. Every person I cross paths with have experienced so much that I have not. When someone walks by, I’m missing out on so much. How they survive, who they love, little pieces of advice they have to give, it’s all just walking by and I never stop to ask them about it. Maybe it’s strange to get personal with new people, but maybe it’s the best way to learn. For example, in my internship, everyone clearly had more knowledge than me, but I didn’t have the time to ask to share their knowledge, or even their opinions.

                I guess it is humbling thinking there are 7 billion people. Each one is like a book, some similar, but none the same. There’s just so much to each one, but there’s only ever time to see the cover. Sometimes there’s enough time to read the little blurb on the back page. Even then, I can really only see the books at the libraries I visit.

I am a tourist

                That’s what I am, right now it’s all I am, and it feels great. Death Cab for Cutie’s “You are a tourist” has been my soundtrack for the past eight weeks, and it’s really something I’m living. I never had that strong of a desire to leave the USA, but an opportunity rose, and I took it because I could benefit greatly. Here I am eight weeks after arriving in Metro Manila, just one week from leaving, and it’s where I want to call home.

Ben Gibbard has it right, “When you feel just like a tourist, in the city you were born, it’s time to go.” I finally did leave the town where I was born in. It took me leaving to learn that my hometown broke my heart. Amidst a barrage of family and emotional problems, were little glimmers of hope, egging me on to stay a bit longer. I always listened; I had nowhere else to go.

When there's a doubt within your mind

Because you're thinking all the time

Framing rights into wrongs

Move along, move along

Minus the few good friends, I was distanced from everyone there.  I felt like I didn’t belong there, sometimes like I didn’t belong with my family. It tore me apart to wake up to the same situation as the day before and have nowhere to get away from it. I guess that’s the problem with small towns, there are secluded areas, but everyone knows where they are, where I would be. I spent all my thinking I was the problem. Thinking everything I did was a mistake.

When there's a burning in your heart

An endless yearning in your heart

Build it bigger than the sun

Let it grow, let it grow

                There was a burning in my heart. A burning to outgrow my hometown and the obstacles it put in my way and be my own person. I don’t want to be stuck there. Everyone else lives there, I’m stuck there. Not for long I hope. I don’t have the need to travel, just the need to find a home. Champaign (where my university is) is nice, but it’s too close, I’m afraid a false hope will lead me back. I can’t fall for the silly little things that brought me happiness. There is so much more to be had. Especially for me. That yearning in my heart, it’s all about finding a place to belong, it was growing, but there’s no need anymore.

                I found a place where I belong. Maybe THE place I belong, there’s a lot in the states I haven’t seen. Metro Manila feels right for me. As I’ve said before, they feel like my people, like I belong. And I want to so badly, a place where I can leave all my struggles behind. The only thing is that would mean leaving my friends behind. Nine weeks ago, I was having hard time thinking about traveling to another country. Now all I can think about is how much I want to live here (I'll finish college first). I can only hope the opposite of Death Cab’s statement is true too. If you feel just like a native, in a city where you’re a tourist, it’s time to stay.

I think it’s time to stay.

Falling short

Yesterday I ran the 5k “Outbreak Manila” at BGC, which is based off of USA’s “Run for your lives.” Which are race events with zombies and obstacles scattered throughout the course, and zombies try to take flags from your “life belt.”  First off I highly suggest you do it if there’s ever an opportunity, regardless if you’re a runner. It’s a really great time, and if you don’t run with friends, you’ll find an alliance really quickly. Something about the will to survive really brings people together, even though it might not last long. There were a lot of moments when I really wanted to see how I could do, so I took the lead through “zombie hordes” but I always waited for everyone to catch up. I can’t say they were holding me back, rather we were holding everyone together. Survival of the fittest has changed a lot. Of course, the very top can survive alone, and some do. Besides that though, there’s a large middle group, and some chose to be there instead of out in the front. Compassion and teamwork have really worked their way into society, even if there are still a few bad apples. I didn’t push myself as hard as I could have, but sometimes it is best not to go all out, especially when it only helps you.

10 meters from the finish line was something that humbled me, possibly only me. It was raining early that night (our wave started at 11:30pm) and there were a few places on the course that accumulated most of the water. In blind confidence, I sprinted ahead near the end of the race because I still had some energy left. There, just 30 some feet away from the finish line I fell in a puddle.  It only makes sense, I ran what I considered to be perfect for 4.99k, just to fall a little bit short. I guess it means a lot, no matter how well I do, there’s always something I know I can improve on. That’s life for you.

Walking on a treadmill

Just recently, the girl I spent almost half of my teenage years chasing celebrated her birthday. And for the first time, I let the day pass with no happy birthday wish. I always used to stay up to be the first to text her at midnight. Usually I'd get a "Thanks" about thirty minutes later which I would stay up for too. One time it was "Why do you always have to  be right on midnight?" That kind of hurt. Like my extra efforts to make her feel appreciated were just harming her. That night we fought it out through a 165 character limit, something we happened to do often. I never liked that she made all her questions into knives.
   It's an almost insignificant event to not wish her a happy birthday, but it's paired with something larger. I always fought for her, and always did everything I could to make her happy because I felt all of my effort would prove I could be good enough for her. I was so wrong back then. I could name so many things I liked about her, but she never had much to say about me. That doesn't mean she's better than me. I now know it's because I search for everything good in everyone. That's just who I am, I don't believe in bad people, just good people with no other choice. It's naive and wrong, but to me everyone gets a chance to prove their worth. Sometimes I do become biased though, like how I was just trying to justify my feelings for her.
     I had friends along the way, telling me I deserved better, I deserved someone who could see everything I am. I never took comfort in their words, they're obligated to say things like that. Recently, I had an almost stranger tell me the exact same thing. and it was different, like the concept of me being better was brand new. Someone who had such a small picture of who I was, made such a bold statement. It was the first time I was reassured that I am the person I think I am.I took this person's words to heart.
     Yet there's still doubt in me, even if I know I deserve someone better, someone who will return the love. All these small steps may help me travel distances, but I'm not going anywhere, or at least not getting away from her. Maybe, love doesn't go away. and I think I loved her. Love may diminish, it may go to the back of your mind, but it's still there, just drowned out by other things. No matter where I go from here, she'll always mean something to me.There will always be a little part of my heart, somewhere in the left ventricle dedicated just to her.

Hauntings from a friend

Have you ever been so invested in one thought that it consumes your life? It gets to a point where you no longer have a choice on whether or not to think about it. It haunts you. At the end, whether it's a happy thought or an angry thought, you feel violated. It lingers in and out of your mind with no permission.

See, I've spent all of my high school years head over heels for one girl. There was a period of time where we felt obligated to be next to each other. That’s all the relationship ever got to, a social obligation. But in a sense, it was better than a dating label. She was mine, I was hers. When there was an opportunity to be together, we took it. And when no one was looking we would hold hands, and when everyone was looking we would hold hands too. I remember the only thing in the world softer than her hands was her face. I remember how it felt to touch the tip of my nose to her nose, and then gently rub my cheek with its unshaven teenage stubble against her cheek. All this while she held me tightly, tight enough to leave imprints on my back, like she never wanted to let go, and if I had a chance now, I wouldn't let her. When her preppy little friends did preppy little things without her, we would tell jokes with no punch lines to the friends who've already heard them.

A social obligation wasn't enough for her. I guess I can see why. At the end of the day, we could kiss someone else and feel no guilt. Which is exactly what she did. Except it wasn't just at the end of the day, it was at the end of every day, and at the start of it, in the hallway. I was heartbroken, confused, and knew that if we continued our friendship while she was dating, I’d only get burned in the end. I was smart back then. But I was also stupid enough to ignore my own warnings.

So I spent the whole next year crying and hoping she would she just how defenseless I was without her. THAT STRATEGY DOES NOT WORK. Trust me. Before I knew, she forgot all the intimate time we had, and just remembered the bad jokes. So I moved on, exactly a million times, but she was always waiting with a halfhearted smile that still made my knees weak. And she would hug me when she sensed I really needed it. She was good at that at least, sensing when I was at my lowest. But her hugs were empty, like I was just occupying the space in between her arms. I would clinch just a bit tighter, and she would make that "mmm" sound that used to mean "even tighter" but now just meant "let go"

I did dumb things to get her to notice me again. First, I joined theater, because she did theater. I learned to love theater even though she was never in the plays I was in. My senior year, I wrote a one-act with her exact personality as the female lead and my personality as the male lead. I then cast her as the lead and someone else as me. And she was great. Of course she was, she never had to act. And people loved to see my retelling of how I met this girl. Good thing there was no act two, because they'd see a lot more depressing reenactment. She knew, of course she knew, but she never called me out on it. Just smiled and thanked me for writing and directing it. That year, she was single. So I took all the chances my introverted mind and broken heart would let me take. I asked her to prom. Through a song, that I wrote. But I can't sing well. I did it in front of all our friends because she knew I was shy, and I never openly told her how strongly I felt. So I did it with a bang, and she said yes. That was about it though; she didn't worry about a dress until late, and never wanted to talk plans. Like she knew I was going to be a bad date, so she saw no reason to put in effort.

Then I was off to college one hundred and fifty miles away from her while she completed her senior year of high school. Occasionally she would cross my mind, but I was truly happy being away from her and my suppressive hometown. Then I started losing control. She was just a memory. Yet, she flooded my thoughts. I couldn't keep her out. Her image was everywhere I looked. Her silly little jokes were the only words I could hear. But all the details I had were fading. Only the idea of her was left. For the longest time I couldn't even say if her eyes were blue or green. I now know they're blue green. I spent so much time away, but it felt like my body didn't want to let her go.

Now, we talk a little more often with less awareness of the past. Still though, she can always do something to make me smile and say something to make me cry. And she knows this. I still buy her gifts from time to time to show I haven't forgotten. All she's given back is a ghost that silently shifts in and out of my dreams, waking me up to send a chill down my spine.

A better introduction

   The last blog was more of an introduction to who I am as a writer. I guess this will geared towards who I am as a person. Currently I am a student at the University of Illinois UC. My major is in financial planning. I would say finance is my second passion, next to writing of course. Though, there's a pretty large back story as to why finance. I'll probably get into details in some future posts, but in short, it would put me in a good position to help a lot of people.
  I was born in a mid sized Illinois town surrounded by cornfields. I was no farmer, though. Both my parents are college professors, so education has always been a big deal. I'm Christian by morals, sometimes by beliefs too, but this is something struggle with a lot. My ultimate weakness is a pretty girl who laughs at bad jokes.It used to be self motivation, because I could always do well by doing little. It's a little different now, I'm a much stronger person, well except against pretty girls with lame sense of humor.
   I spend most of my free time either chasing plastic ( playing ultimate Frisbee)  or daydreaming. Though, free time is rare between school and work. I also secretly want to be a musician, so I spend some time playing the guitar and pretending like I can sing.