Planetoid Playground

So here's a poem I wrote called "Planetoid Playground": An analogy between pre-adolescent kids and the rugrats of the solar system. The poem features none other than our very own playground bully, the egotistical Earth. We follow Earth on his ruthless tirade as he insults and belittles his planet-peers. We'll zoom in on his relentless torment of poor, ole' Jupiter. The poem was inspired just from my experience and observations of the remarks that tended to go around the playground (included those to and from myself). I thought a poem would be  a nice change of pace to the blog and poems are awesome ways towards "creative release."

The poem was actually started years ago when my playground days were more vibrant, but I pulled it out of the recesses of my computer files and dusted it off. There are several revisions and another stanza-full of lines as my abusive flow poured down on Jupiter.

Though the entirety of it is not based on myself, I could see bits and pieces of my former, more immature years. This Earth character, in all honesty, can really be applied to a vast majority of the youth. All it takes is some sort of advantage, whether of size or wit, and a peer fit for subjugation. Most outgrow it. Some, unfortunately, don't.

"Planetoid Playground"

 So there was Earth, with his lackey the moon, 

Who called Uranus lame and Mars a buffoon. 

“Why even the stars don’t hang around Pluto. 

He’s not even a planet, that lonesome, little weirdo.” 

“Never once have I seen Saturn's ring shine nor gleam, 

And Jupiter clearly needs to lay off the ice cream.” 

“You have got to kidding me. A twelve year orbit?

Well here's my diagnosis: Obesity - morbid."

"Bigger than the Death Star, full of even deadlier gas,

You've got to be at least five million times my mass!"

"Heard of acne ointment? You're gonna need a lot

Covering up that 300 year old Great Red Spot."

"Lemon blossom cupcakes or strawberry rhubarb pie?

Which satisfies thy taste, oh god of thunder...thighs?" 

Jupiter held in the tears, never having felt so low

As Earth prepared to deal a final crushing blow.

But Sunny, cool as a star, went ahead and said,

"You revolve around me. Shut up, you airhead.”

Snowboarding/fallling

Here comes another firsties blog: Snowboarding!

Let's not jump straight to it though. First there was the "craigslisting" that I got to do. Another firstie, and that couldn't have gone any better either. It didn't take long finding the deal for a snowboard set (everything I needed included minus the boots and plus some snowboarding-appropriate clothing) for $325. Jake, the guy selling, was the chill surfer dude I expected. Tall, cut, tanned, and roughly bearded.

After about a 15 minute wait, Jake rolled into the Sports Chalet parking lot in a blue hatchback with a can of Monster in hand. Everything about him shouted sports junkie. I tested on the clothes, took a look at all the gear, and the deal ended up settling at $275 (or $274 if you deduct the dollar I found in the jacket pocket). It was nearly perfect except that everything ran a little bit large but still wearable. The snowboard was a free-ride 155cm Vision board, with bindings pre-installed. We shook hands, swapped  stuff, and drove off. It was a new and exciting experience.

The next day, I woke up at 6 AM and we headed towards Mount High. The conversations were hilarious and the view was beautiful. In no time we were there and up on the ski lifts. Being too prideful and not wanting to spend extra money, I tumbled my way down the slope. After that I picked things up rather quickly, and the falls became less and less frequent. The oversized board made things a slightly harder to control and maneuver. The few times I pulled off switch riding and did "crazy" spins, reinvigorated me to keep going and get back up no matter how hard a fall was. And those falls were definitely hard. I went home with my fair share of bruises and sore muscles.

Coaxed by my more experienced friend, we hit the advanced slope and that didn't turn out so good for me. It was rather embarrassing falling right back down after a recovery and awkwardly hopping the ramps. As I near the end, I thought it was over...until I saw the final slope. About twice as steep as anything yet. It was an adventure getting down it. A trek down the mountainside of Mount Everest itself.

It was the perfect day. From start to finish, my snowboarding trip was an absolute blast, and my friends and I are planning to go again real soon.

...and a Happy New Year!

It has been a week since the New Year has come. Did you resolve to get better grades this new semester? Study, study, study. Maybe lose a pound here and there or pack on some density? Don't miss a single day of your workout schedule. Or perhaps it's something a little more personal like mine Whatever your resolution(s) may be, I'm just here to encourage you to fight on, as I've been trying to do so myself.

I personally have never had a New Year's resolution, but this year I've finally been hit with a reason important enough to give it a go. We all know of the infamous three-week period until everyone's resolutions go downhill. Once this timeframe expires, the jam-packed Bally's and 24HR Fitness empty. People reactivate their Facebook account or maybe buy another pack of Turkish blend Camels. It's become such a common occurrence that it simply serves as another excuse for people to drop their resolutions year after year.

The lack of extended success has been one of the factors that pushed me away from creating New Year resolutions too in fear of wasted effort...until now. I mean, there is the point of all this hopeless yearning if it'll end with me, let's say, on my leather couch, ice cream carton of my favorite Mint Chocolatey Chip in one hand and an Xbox controller in the other. If I'm going to give this a go, then it's going to be a solid, no-backing-out go. No excuses. No leeway. I've resolved not only to keep from giving up on my resolution but to achieve it with rocketing streams of glorious colors and have resolved upon that in an "Inception" of resolutions.



We have survived yet another "End of the world" experience, as the Mayans predicted, in turn with the closing of 2012, a long and wonderful year. Now let's make something of this grand year of '13 and improve, better, change, transform, revolutionize, etc. (whichever fits you best) ourselves before the next one arrives. Who knows? I've heard the Incas predicted prehistoric behemoths were coming back in an unrighteous fury to take mankind down to the fossilized depths of Dino-hell.

"Fight the good fight..." (2 Tim 6:12)

You-owe-me! Mentality

Are any of us entitled to an entitlement mentality as epitomized in the “99% demonstration” (with this I am referring to the tension surrounding the concentration of wealth, not the economic turmoil blame in the Occupy Movement). To that I reply with a resounding NO! Our country is a capitalist nation, built on capitalist endeavors. Further more it was laissez-faire. And now we call upon the government to restrict what capitalism was meant to create? The idea of an individual starting a business and rising into wealth was the “American dream,” yet once it has been achieved so profoundly, it suddenly becomes a problem.

“That is so unfair,” shouts the 99%, but ask yourself why and where are they justified in crying injustice. Behind-the-scene corporate deals, shipping jobs to China, exploitation of employees: breaching into moral wrongs? Yes. Unfair? Absolutely not. Their empires, their rules. Anything under what they built up, is subject to them. It seems snobby to take this stand doesn’t it? But putting yourself into someone else’s shoes always does the trick. 

Imagine having a love for all things electronic and opening a small store selling T.V.’s, MP3 players, cameras, and the such. This store happens to do well so you expand it. You put countless hours in, and the money keeps pouring back out. You make the your stocks public and make it available for franchise. Its success booms exponentially. Your hard work and the risks you took to start this business really did pay out and quite a lot. Until... one day you get a letter from the government demanding you to cut down a branch of your company and to limit your profit. Your blood, sweat, and tear soon becomes that of the government. It’d be a crime to you, the 1%, wouldn’t it. 

Now I wouldn’t go as far as taking the “Gospel of Wealth” view (“survival of the fittest” in economy”) and say the the 99% are a bunch of no good, lazy bums that deserve to be there. From the 99% comes the 1% after all. But please cease the socialist complaints and be a capitalist.

Civil War Mania!

I've received a heavy dosage of the Civil War as of late with AP U.S. History and even outside with the release of Steven Spielberg's Lincoln which was a surprisingly well executed and entertaining film. That is a whole different topic however. Having gone through three chapter on the Civil War (and that only includes those that directly pertained to it), my knowledge on this era has significantly expanded. It is the theme of patriotism and war-time enthusiasm seen in this time period that I'd like to note though. And furthermore the lack thereof that I have, from my knowledge, perceived in the United States today.  At the upstart of the Civil War, there was such a excess of volunteers that many were turned away. Of course the zeal eventually died down as the war dragged on bloodily, but none of that can be seen anymore, at least by me. Where has the patriotism gone? The fervent love for our country displayed through an active demonstration of suffrage and wartime zeal has disappeared. From a nativist view, perhaps the large streams of immigrants have diluted the true American who have retained their nationalistic efforts. This country is not really the immigrants' own, and their appreciation and gratitude for its refuge from whatever political oppression or impoverished status has quickly vaporized from sight. However, this seems to not be the case at all. Statistics have rather shown that a growing percentage of minorities that are eligible voters has increased while the amount of eligible white voters has steadily decreased. Maybe society's overall personal detachment has created a breed of indifferent drones, ungrateful of their rare rights and privileges to add their own voice to the affairs of their nations. So what's done it? In the cheesiest manner possible I must say that I cannot come up with this answer except for myself. The answer lies within each and every citizen of the United States, each and every one of you. There is no single answer. There still are passionate nationalists and wartime profiteers always have existed so it feels wrong to group and bundle a people based on their time period. "So my fellow Americans: ask not what your country can do for you — ask what you can do for your country."

The Omni-Historian

I find myself constantly ragging on certain historical figures (i.e. General McClellan and his repeated follies) for their utter "stupidity" and blind "ignorance." I have to stop myself from falling into the common trap of what I've designated "The Omni-Historian." Having a 3rd person point-of-view history book, we are placed into a position of absolute knowledge. On that pedestal of omniscience and omnipresence, lifted up on an air of authority, we tend to judge, criticize, and condemn every strategical mistake in war or political slip-up in presidency.
There is always an inclination towards antagonizing one side of party meanwhile placing the other in a righteous light. We shun the South for its revolting practice of slavery and ignore the vital factors and conditions of the time. To the South, slavery was their lifeblood, their economic means. On the other hand, the North retains a holistic glow, despite their rigorous (though indirect) involvement and partaking of the slave-connected profit. We fail to truly put ourselves in their position, but rather walk in their shoes while retaining our curent all-knowing status.

Not only does it breach upon moral grounds of pompous superiority and even injustice to a degree, it taints our perception of history, infringing on our ability to grasp it in an unbiased and clear way. If we are to free ourselves from a narrow-minded, closed-off view of the world, we must first drop the binding chains of generalizing with sweeping conceptions. Instead, we need to adorn the tattered, worn-out boots of the men of Valley Forge, neglecting not a single hole on the faded leather. We need to cease the antagonist-protagonist argument and stop for a moment to consider what either side was fighting for and what they had to lose. Only if we accomplish this can we do justice to the historical events that has made us into what we are today.

Colored Collisions

NOVEMBER 10, 2012: Went paintballing for the first time.

That will be a memorable day. Sure it wasn't as thrilling as I had hyped it up to be, and it didn't exactly match up with the images of "Matrix-style" dodges and sniper-type marksmanship that I had conjured up, but it was good fun nonetheless. My friends and I all got a healthy dosage of pain and exhilaration with a few bloody skin breakages and nasty welts. There was the sense of accomplishment and joy from hitting someone dead on their chest, the excitement from going "Rambo," dramatically sliding behind cover and madly taking on a group of armed gunners, and the disorientation of being on the receiving end of a clean shot to the face.
 Bullets were flying everywhere and as soon as I would feel safely sheltered, a gooey explosion of neon green would splatter across my mask, penetrating the air holes and coating my face with the dyed sucrose (a not-so-tasty experience). All in all it was a wonderful day of inflicting and receiving suffering to dear friends and strangers alike. With each game came fantastical tales of glorious battle and boasts of spectacular feats.

"Let boys be boys," they'd say, but there were none more vicious than the giggling girls blasting away with menacing laughter, and sending a steady stream of pain to anyone in their way. They matched the ferocity of many of the guys there, uninhibited by any form of mercy or sympathy. I will forever be scarred by the pain of two of the sweetest, kindest church-girls I've ever known unleash a fury of pellets onto my exposed back. Never will I forget.