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It's in the little things you say...

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They give you away.  Your little thought processes, aren't you clever and sharp as a knife.  How you cut me with you words and slice me with you concern.  I know you care your very special way, so you open your mind, and how now I see so clearly what I mean to you.  And how now how silly do I look to you.  

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It's those little daggers in your voice...

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So I'm heartless.  Because I move on and I runaway.  Because I'm naturally the complete opposite of what you are.  You stay and fight the good fight... I run and run... you're back and forth indecisive, and I'm what's done is done.  I'm heartless because friends I got a lot of though, you're so much better than me because... oh wait, time, you wait Cal, you'll see.  As if having one on the side is so much better, as if the second time is so much better... I'm not counting I'm not keeping score... I don't care any much anyway I'm already out the door.  

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It's how we speak without speaking...

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Now it's not just you it's me.  I take issue, and you're not letting up, and I'm bout giving up...  there's now real exchange, the dialogue is what it is... cordial formality. I think you're about had enough, and maybe I'm being too tough... because that is what that is... two differing realities.  

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Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder...

I stole this title.

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It's many things: the distance, the time away, the hours upon hours of reflection.  You replay it like a broken record.  The musical loop that becomes you're background noise where it's pushed to that deep dark corner of your mind.   Just there, the reflection, the play of light and I see into those captivating lenses.  

At first you remove all emotion.  Emotion clouds clarity, clouds cognition, clouds the cerebral.  Then you walk, it doesn't matter which direction, walk... you'll find yourself inevitably heading towards that which is most comfortable and convenient...  you never arrive: keep walking or settle.  

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What is it that makes you walk?

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That question beaten and battered, blood soaked and broken bones... slam you face against the pavement, pound your bleeding knuckles at the brick wall, brick break back best, and run - tear your shirt off and run, screaming bloody mary bloody fucking mary to the night sky hoping and wishing the heavens hear your cry.

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There was that one time I would have gladly died right there.

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And there you were, and here I was.  What foolishness is this, that we tempt the gods.  Lives, futures, hang in the balance, but those moments.  I'd trade nothing and keep them all to myself.  There we were, and here I am.  Before you I stood, letter in hand... the voice came from the heart and I said, I said here I stand.  I exist not in memory not in life and not in death but in flux.  Change is the only thing that never changes... so change is constant.  CLEER.  Than that was us, there we were, as I stand there we stood.  Our lives ahead of us n that day.  Celebration for accomplishing what was really the big inside joke.  Now our lives ahead and that was a story, now I got a story.  That was high, how we were high.  Hardly awake, barely slept, and there we were by the ocean force wave after wave we fought nature at the top of our lungs we shouted at the top of our lungs.  Is that all you got?  That was then, and this is now, and here we stand.

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Yeah we're that loud obnoxious party.

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This is us at a restaurant with normal patrons around.  This is that there moment.  This is Mar's & Og's there moment.  I'm glad I was able to share in that moment with them.  Congrats friends.  

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You're just annoyed because you're not having as much fun.

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in my dreams...

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it's a reaccuring dream,
about a girl, she was my world...
however big one's world could be at 13.

we fell in love playing basketball,
we fell in love hanging out after school...
i did anyway.

i loved her before i even knew what love was.
i still do.

i know what you're thinking. it's just a memory, a thought, that i love. ...yeah... but it's more too.

it's not just a static memory, but a living one. i replay it. reaccess. re-evaluate. if ever i feel that way again, i will never let it go... i hope.

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man= a conundrum, a self aware paradox

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how can he love so deeply and walk away? did he ever love at all?

was i too young, was i too dumb? do i doubt myself and give in to dispair, or do trust in trust?

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Stuck in dead end job? Tired & bored? Overworked & underpaid?

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Have no fear; you can now enjoy the wonderful rants of

Calcifer’s House of Cards

@

http://cmonkeyrant.blogspot.com/

Why another blog you ask? Click on the link to discover the hidden answers yourself. I must warn you though; Calcifer’s House of Cards is not for the faint of heart. It is 100% unfiltered, unadulterated, saying it like it is, calling you out, balls to the walls fun! Don’t even consider clicking onto the link if you’re squeamish! Just don’t do that to yourself, trust me.

It’s the old adage: you’re better off not knowing; ignorance is bliss.

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“I’m not a businessman…

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At the bank today, Lily asked me how my weekend was.  “Good!” I replied with a smirk.  Standing there it dawned on me that bank tellers, esp. in more specialized banks, deal with a small list of clientele.  Yeah it helps that I come in almost everyday around the same time: networking 101 take note.

I managed a follow up question, “How was your weekend?” 

Her reply, “Good so far.”  This struck me as an odd reply to a question about a time that had already past.  I mean in all respects, Lily was at work, it’s a Tuesday, and she’s definitely not intoxicated for the weekend to still be going good so far.  I figured she must have misheard me, and that I must have been mumbling again.  Another note: project your voice, not your mood. 

Funny, a week ago the question would have sent a surge of emotional turmoil through me – imagine an angst ridden Harry Potter from The Order of the Phoenix, who was “…just so angry all the time!” and you get the picture.  Of course, I would have stoically replied, “Fine,” and leave it at that.  No reply, just a transaction. 

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I’m a Business, Man!” ~ Jay Z

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Yesterday, I got around to describing a “Good!” weekend.  Had slumber not been so vital, I would have gotten around to describing my Manic Mondays and its highlight:  Margarita Mondays.  Coincidence that Manic Mondays and Margarita Mondays are two sides of the same coin, I think not.  There’s a Power Elite Theory to be extrapolated from this. 

It wasn’t Margarita exactly, it was actually Sangria with Rob Bob & Laura, more high school friends, plus Vinny Laura’s college buddy.  (Not to say that Vinny is not a friend, because he’s definitely one cool cat – I digress!).  We had laughs thanks to Laura and her ridiculously hilarious “life events.”  I’m not going to reveal her punch lines – they’re really stories you need to hear directly from her yourself.  Third note: don’t step on other people’s punch line, e.g. don’t steal their thunder, and VERY IMPORTANT don’t under any circumstances reveal to your close friends such ridiculous funny “life events” that they will never allow you to live down.  Well done, Laura.  Well done.

Yeah so Monday was tough, but it ended well.  Then I went home and blogged about Hope thinking that whatever Tuesday brings I’d be able to handle it – I had a list of tasks/goals and well… it goes to show.  Nothing comes easy, that’s note number four. 

I ended up where we were Monday night at Santana Row (talk about your Power Elite, right?) Pretty much failed everything except the easy bank run (I call it a milk run).  That means Wednesday is “Take 2: Calvin Tries to Save the World, 4 minutes after.”

 Still, defeat makes victory sweeter they say – so try and try again, right?  Old wisdoms and advice through the ages, right?  Sorta like Ben Franklin’s, “A penny saved is a penny earned.”

Well, I’m going to save me a penny too: that laughter we shared, those moments in my memory.  That’s retained earnings, and it’ll appreciate well with a good investment portfolio. On that final note: SAVE YOU MONEY AND INVEST KIDS!  GOOD NIGHT!

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"An iceberg hides it’s strength…

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It was one of those manic Mondays. Still, I had to update my blog eventually right? 

Just a recap since my last bout of insomnia: work, basketball, work, sorta study, basketball, and not getting paid.

That pretty much sums it up.
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…below the surface,"

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It is what it is, but I don’t have to like it. I’m actively trying to improve my situation, because I’m not happy. The last time some one seriously sat me down to ask, I was miserable. (Otherwise on the phone or per conversation, I’m usually “fine” or “all right” Really? No not really, but you weren’t really asking.)

This last Sunday though was like reliving the past. It wasn’t perfect and I’m learning to deal with not being perfect. I’m no longer paralyzed with despair. Meaning I don’t wake up wondering why I even bother waking up, or more exactly “Why the fuck couldn’t I have died in my sleep?” Life not being perfect is working out.

 That’s a play on words because I’ve been playing basketball and been lifting weights. I’m not even close to my old bench press weight, but I aim to surpass it by year-end. I have a goal :D.

Anyway, this last Sunday was Steve Bangalan’s birthday celebration. We’ve been friends since high school, and every year, Steve’s bash usually takes place at Cunningham Park in San Jose. But for some years now, I haven’t been able to make it for some reason or another. (A theme in my life – apparently astrological in nature according to Cousin Joey).

I’m glad I was able to make it this time though. It was what I needed to help me out of this rut. For the longest time, I felt shitty as I mentioned above. It was just an overall dissatisfaction with myself. The barbecue get-together with old friends in that familiar setting – a tradition of sorts, made my past memories real and living. Instead of living in nostalgia for a past or longing for an unobtainable perfect future – wanting and pining for what I could’ve had or should have, I was brought to the here and now. It was a Zen moment. 

Here I was with my friends (my inner circle) re-living one of my fondest memories. It was like Groundhog’s Day. Everything was the same but different. In that sense, it was identical; we were all relatively the same since high school except more grown. Some of us were more mature than others… I digress; what I’m saying is the connections are real. That Zen moment, that almost perfect Zen moment, I realize that I am happy. 

Yeah, maybe I’m not happy all the time, but that moment I was certainly happy. So I’m faced with this divergent path. Stay in the rut, drown in self-loathing, or move on & get over myself. It’s easier said than done when you’re in that deep. (And beating myself up is so much fun, because I am really good at it). Still, I was fortunate to be reminded of a past self. By reliving this memory in real time, seeing how we’ve all changed but how we were all still connected in the same ways, first made me cherish my friends. And second, helped me to see that I was happier before. Before I fell down the rabbit hole, I was happy with myself. Now it’s a struggle.

What I realize is that I’m not the only one projecting this out into the world. We’re all projecting beings (it’s our 6th sense if you will). So how hard is it to feel good about yourself, when others are putting you down. No not intentionally, they’re just displacing their own insecurities & neurosis onto the world. But it’s not helping you any right? Well you and me both.

I use to say I’m not happy until everyone else is happy. I think even then I realize how impossible that sounds. Still, I didn’t let it get to me. Yeah maybe it was youth, maybe I was naïve, and maybe I never experienced the crushing blow of defeat. I think in the growing up process, I lost some of that optimism. I’m searching for it now, and I’m trying to project a new light of myself onto the world. I don’t want to be miserable anymore – saying and admitting that is a pretty big step right?

So now I have to surround myself with hope and it’s similar light... 

...or the Light of Hope, or rather the Star of Light, like in the Star of Earendil

Here's to Hope, Life, Love, & Laughter.

(Lake Cunnigham, June 1,  2008)

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 said the wise man.

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Not many people know this, but on many an adventures sneaking back into San Jose unannounced, I sought wisdom from an old friend. Like Gandalf traversing the mountains and mines to Rivendell seeking counsel with Lord Elrond, I would shroud myself in the silver speeding stream doing seventy something in Alex, my ol' 99'Accord, towards Bangalan’s house. There I sought advice from Steve, it was he who told me that life is what you make of it. It was in these conversations that I learned true friendship is worth the distance every time. 

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Two LotR, one Groundhog's Day, and one Alice in Wonderland references.  Ain't I awesome? Go me!

~Cal

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