I’m a Songwriter!(?)

Monday, July 16th, 2018

It’s official. I’m a songwriter.

Wait. Hold on.

*Googles the definition of “songwriter”*

According to Merriam-Webster – “Songwriter (noun): A person who composes words or music or both especially for popular songs

According to English Oxford Living Dictionaries – “Songwriter (noun): A person who writes popular songs or the music for them

What the hell? Do they have to be popular? Am I not looking in the right places for the definition? I’m not a songwriter then?

You know what? No. I am a songwriter. Here’s my definition.

“Songwriter (noun): A person who writes songs”

Is there another word for it? Am I a lyricist? I’m not going to even bother checking on Google. I am a lyricist.

I’ve written ten songs, enough for a standard album. If I can’t be called a “songwriter” or a “lyricist”, then what am I?


Thought of the Day on July 14th, 2018

Saturday, July 14th, 2018

My mother just returned home after visiting a colleague who lost her husband and four daughters in a car crash last week.

I just can’t fathom losing everything like that in the blink of an eye and being the only one left alive.

I would have wanted to go with them.


A Book about *Bleep*ers

Monday, June 25th, 2018

On June 16th, I tweeted the following on my Twitter:

“I will write a book on the people I’ve known in my life with serious issues to raise awareness to stay away from them.”

I already see it. Among a dozen people:

Chapter 1: My High School Bully (Long Chapter)…

I have to keep in mind that I should be objective and not use the “F” word when describing them.

Stream of Consciousness on July 10th, 2018

Tuesday, July 10th, 2018

Uh-oh. I forgot to submit a request for travel reimbursement at my job. The deadline is 60 days. It has been 65 days. So, I’ve wasted about $12. Damn. I spent over an hour trying to remember the account name and password to my E-ZPass account. That is somewhere in my mind. That is somewhere on the four email accounts I oversee. I failed to figure it out, so now I have to find a statement at home because I can’t remember the account number to perform a password recovery.

Uh-oh. I forgot to reduce a monthly payment towards my student loan. Previously, I’ve invested most of my paycheck towards my student loan, but now, I want to be able to afford a new bedroom set in my new house. So, now, I need to reduce monthly payments soon or else I’ll be sleeping on the floor again for a month.

Uh-oh. I need to caulk and spackle the rest of my basement to battle a tick and centipede problem. I need to caulk the bedroom, the kitchen, the bathroom, and around the living room. It’s not a big space, so I don’t know what’s the hold up. I have only one more 10 oz stick of caulk, so I should head to Home Depot. I guess the bedroom is the priority for now.

Uh-oh. I need to figure out how much I owe my mother and pay her back.

Uh-oh. I need to continue revising my horror screenplay before the end of the year AND write a sequel. I need to have some writing completed if I’m going to make a career out of it. Without it, I probably have nothing. Some nights, I try writing music instead. I should go back to my horror. No, my lyrics. Horror. Lyrics. Horror. Lyrics. Horror.

Uh-oh. I need to lose… 65 pounds?… by the end of the year. Not even. Just make it 40. 35. I need to make some progress. I’m almost 30. I’m getting old. My indulgence in fast food, my obesity, my unhealthy diet is most likely taking a toll on me. I’ll be slowly dying in my 30s if I don’t shape up right now.

Uh-oh. Not really. I want to continue my 2K18 career. Come on, man! You don’t have time for that!

Uh-oh. I need a new car. My old car stalls every time I go over 50 MPH. It’s like the movie Speed, but in reverse. It won’t take me to work in the Bronx or Long Island. It seems like everyone around me is spending too much money on car repairs. I should be like my cousin, George, who buys his own parts and spends a week trying to fix his car himself.

Uh-oh. My job is starting to stress me out. Driving to work every day, I feel like I’m going to have a panic attack. I feel like I’ve peaked. It has been seven months and I still feel like I don’t belong. Of course, it’s my position. I’m a floater. Being on the road is wearing me down. The different people are wearing me down.

“What’s your name again? You know my name, but I forgot yours.”

I don’t want to seem rude, forgetful, aloof, disinterested, uncaring, unintelligent, etc.

All this wear on my mind has affected some of my job performance. My superiors who thought I was good before, might think I suck now.

Uh-oh… That’s it for now.


Thursday, July 5th, 2018

What does it feel like? Is it feeling like you’ve accomplished something? Finishing school? I’ve done that. Making enough money? Meh. Having a wife? A kid or two? Not yet. Is it building something? A house? A cabinet? A legacy? Making it to something? Making it somewhere, like being a millionaire? Making it to 1,000 friends on Facebook? Getting to places you thought you would never get to? Have I made it to places I thought I’d never get to? Think. Think. Oh, yes. I have. A couple of times. But I want to get out from a place of anger.

Is manhood a collection of knowing things? Things that men should know how to do? What do I know? I don’t know this. I know how to mix concrete. Face a centipede. Make smart choices while shopping. I don’t know how to fix a car. I know how to change a tire though. I know how to raise a loving kitty cat (with the help from my girlfriend). I know how to write nice, tidy, and complete sentences. I have that. At least, I have that.

Is manhood about your attitude towards life? Having a sense of maturity? I sometimes have that. I could act mature when I can. I could be professional and I could accept constructive criticism to better myself. But I could lose it sometimes. A volcano is at peace for most of its life, but explodes rarely. Does social anxiety and social awkwardness hinder me from being a true man? Sometimes it does. Assertive men get what they want. I have the patience to live without I want. But I do know what I need, and I could live without my wants.

Do I really need to think about manhood? Everyone is different. Just let it go and be yourself. Let go.

The Last Day of Spring 2018

Tuesday, June 19th, 2018

This year, summer in New York City will start on June 21st, 2018 at approximately 6:07 AM. That will make June 20th the last day of spring. So, the last day of spring 2018 will be my last day living in my childhood house.

I never imagined this day would come. The transition of moving will be finally complete. I takes symbolism seriously. Timing like this only solidifies my attitude towards symbolism.

Woodhaven has been my home since I was 2-years-old. Like my girlfriend said, it is the only house I ever remembered living in. I do have many memories there.

I remember some of the good times, most of which were when I was a kid. My house was the place for family gatherings. My aunts, uncles, and cousins would all visit for New Year’s, Christmas, birthdays. The men were usually found in the basement where there used to be a small bar. It has been my bedroom for the past two or three years. The men would be there or out in the backyard, drinking and barbecuing. Out back, there used to be a dilapidated garage and a jungle of a garden. Now, it’s open space with a shed. The women would be inside cooking and talking. The kids would be running around or playing video games.

I remember switching bedrooms over the years. I’ve had the basement, the “small” room, the basement again, the master bedroom, the “hot and cold” room, and finally, the basement again when I started paying rent with my girlfriend. I remember inviting my childhood friends over. I remember having a fight with one of them after tugging on his shirt. I remember the horse-playing and laughing with the other. Both are long gone.

I remember some of the fights between my family. My brother and I grew distant during our high school years. Our relationship hasn’t fully been repaired. All the yelling between my father and my grandmother, who started developing dementia in that house and had to return to the Philippines. My father yelling. Me yelling. It was the house where my dad’s condition worsened, where he spent the past few years, grinding it out, needing to go to dialysis three times a week.

I remember Max, our dog who was the same age as me growing up. We grew up together until he died of cancer in the stairs next to the back door when he was 13-years-old. I was 13. I remember his pal, Buck, who was lonely for a few years after until he too died. Buck is buried under concrete in the backyard, which was a garden before. He lays with my cat, Tommy, who died in my dad’s arms in what is currently my brother’s room (the “small” room). Bernie and Marsha, who died in recent years, are buried in the front garden. I hope the new owners will allow them to rest in peace there for when I visit.

It was a house I started losing interest in. The neighborhood seemed to change for the worse. The parking spaces ran out. My dad became territorial. We fought with neighbors. I once played loud music on consecutive nights in my bedroom (the “hot and cold” room) during my “dark stage”. A few days later, I realized my window was half-shattered. A large piece of rock laying on top of my backyard awning. I won’t forget coming out of my house one day to see the passenger side of my car smashed in with a brick. All the silly renovations my dad did, all of which were done haphazardly. The cheap and scratched up floors. The cheap contractors who did a poor job with the roof and the siding. The lost motivation to fully take care of the house.

The lengthy basement “renovation” of 2017 that made my girlfriend’s life a living hell. That included sanding the ugly popcorn walls my dad did when I was younger. The sanding took a month. You could sometimes find evidence of the dust in some places. On some of the clothes. Then, the tearing up of the old floors, the pouring of concrete, and the installation of new ceramic tiles. That took a month with the help of a good friend. This was me and my girlfriend’s first home together.

Some of the neighbors moved away. The neighbors who stayed irked my dad with their pride or ego. The Chilean neighbor next door was a good guy though. He would sometimes barbecue in his backyard and share hot dogs and burgers. He once gave me Proactiv when I was a pimpled teenager. At the time, I took it the wrong way. His wife would always ring our doorbell at night to remind us to not leave our cat, Toby, outside because it was too cold. Toby has many friends. Now, he has to find new ones.

So, do I.

The last day of spring 2018 brings a close to a transition phase that started in December. Six months later, we are finally moving. I want to thank my girlfriend for jump starting the process. We wouldn’t have moved without her help. My mother, my father, and my brother for helping themselves. After all, this is for them. My mother and father for placing trust in me to find our new home. I do believe that our lives will be for the better because of the new house and new neighborhood. I want to thank my uncle George, uncle Robert, my cousin, George, my nephew, Aaron, and my neighbors and friends, Freddy, Robert, and Danilo, for assisting us with our move. I also want to thank my friend, Miguel, who I haven’t spoken to in a while, and my girlfriend’s two sisters for assisting me and my girlfriend in renovating the basement. I do believe that the renovated basement was the icing on the cake for potential buyers. Finally, I want to thank our agent, Shellena, for guiding us through the whole process.

Let the first day of summer 2018 be the start of a new life.

Example of Drama on June 14th, 2018

Thursday, June 14th, 2018

So, I was walking around Harlem, Manhattan today after getting a bite to eat at a White Castle. (The Impossible sliders are good, by the way.) It was the day after a previous night of absurdity involving… drama. Grrr! I’ll spare you the details on that one. But here’s an example of drama I’ve seen today.

By the way, I hate drama. I loathe it. Except for what you see on the big screen. Any sane human being shouldn’t be petty about the littlest things in life. The littlest things! There are those who need it. It gives them a silly purpose in life. They start and it just turns into a shit storm. And for what? Ego? Pride? Let it go. You’ll live longer. I tell my girlfriend all the time, “I hate drama. It’s unnecessary.” Just because I’m a film buff doesn’t mean I’m out of touch with reality and out of touch with real people.

Anyway, I was walking up a block and I pass by this guy who looks like a gardener. He probably worked for the city or one of the buildings / businesses on the block. He was holding a hose, spraying the greenery on the sidewalk, you know: a small tree surrounded by plants / flowers, right on the curb.

Then, I heard, “You’re getting water on my car.”

I turn around and I see these two individuals inside a red Cadillac. They are parked right next to the plants, and of course, some water got on the lower end of the passenger door.

The gardener goes, “It’s only water.”

A commotion went on, and I see their window rolled all the way down by now. They’re going at it with this guy. Those two knuckleheads.

The gardener continued, “I’m just doing my job! Why are you even parked here?”

He was right. Literally open space front and back of this Cadillac. It went on for a minute before the situation passed me by, as I walked back to work. I wonder how it resolved? Like a cliffhanger to a movie. (Get back to reality.)

But to reiterate… It’s just water! Harmless water! At least the guy was doing them a favor giving them a little car wash! It’s not like he sprayed all over their car. Ever heard of rain? Why does this have to be a big deal? If it is, they should’ve took their precious Cadillac and let the man do his job! Why make an issue out of nothing?