In Memoriam: My Grandfather

One of my favorite photos of my grandparents. Minalin, Pampanga, Philippines, 1975

My grandfather passed away on Nov. 27 at the age of 89 years old.

I've always felt disconnected from my extended family back in the Philippines; not because of any family drama or anything, but really only because the geographical distance makes it very difficult to build and maintain relationships. (Let's face it; the flight to Manila makes a five-hour flight to New York seem like a nanosecond, not to mention the fact that a plane ticket can cost about a month's salary for some.) In any case; my grandparents helped raise my cousins; my memories of my grandparents consisted of stories my dad would tell me about them and the three times I've visited. But despite the distance (both literally and figuratively), I've always held a fondness in my heart for my family back there.

Thankfully, the Internet and social networking have enabled the kinds of connections I've wanted to make with my cousins. My cousin, Jon, wrote this tribute to our grandfather the other day, and after reading it, I realized that my dad --- the oldest of all the siblings --- is SO like my grandfather. I may not have had the pleasure or privilege of living with my grandparents, but my grandfather's teachings, personality, values and beliefs were mirrored in the teachings, personality, values and beliefs I've seen in my own father.

And I never felt so connected to my family than at that moment.

Nietzsche Family Circus

As a kid, I totally hated that Family Circus comic. I found it utterly corny and trite. But this, courtesy of LosAnjealous, makes the whole thing way more palatable. Here's an example:

The man of knowledge must be able not only to love his enemies but also to hate his friends.

Props to Scott for the link.

R.I.P. Theresa Duncan and Jeremy Blake

Theresa Duncan and Jeremy Blake

In July of this year, Artist Jeremy Blake, 35, took off his clothes and walked into the ocean seven days after his partner of 12 years, Screenwriter/Writer/Blogger Theresa Duncan, 40, washed down a handful of Tylenol PMs with a glass of bourbon.

The January 2008 issue of Vanity Fair has a great article, "The Golden Suicides," on this young, artistic, glamorous, and deeply troubled pair, which I read last week.

I don't follow the art community, but something about their story intrigues me. Could it be their glamorous existence? Their strong, artistic promise snuffed out so early? The squandering of Jah-given gifts? The fact that Theresa set up two blog posts to show up posthumously? That they thought Scientologists were trying to bring them down?

There are so many layers, I can't help but be drawn to their story. Part of it is some kind of macabre curiousity, sure. But also, whenever a young life (in this case, two), so filled with promise leaves this earth so unexpectedly, we are all affected by it in some way. I can't even fathom the logic that caused them to make the decision to end their lives, but I can only hope that these two souls found the answers to the questions they were seeking.

And that those they left behind begin to heal.

eHarmony sued

Bigotry seriously has no place in this milennium, and I'm glad to hear that someone's finally calling eHarmony on their shit:

A lawsuit alleging discrimination based on sexual orientation was filed in Los Angeles Superior Court on behalf of Linda Carlson, who was denied access to eHarmony because she is gay.

Lawyers bringing the action said they believed it was the first lawsuit of its kind against eHarmony, which has long rankled the gay community with its failure to offer a "men seeking men" or "women seeking women" option.

You know I have no love for eHarmony. I noticed this bullshit years ago, and I'd even take it a step further and say that interracial relationships aren't part of Dr. Neil Warren's idea of what constitutes a harmonious relationship, either.

So what, you say; interracial marriages and gay marriages are two different things.

Are they? Really? It wasn't until the U.S. Supreme Court decided in 1967 in the Loving v. Virginia case that denying two people of different races the right to marry was unconstitutional.

But God says that homosexuality just ain't natural, you say? Well, they tried that whole 'God argument' in the Loving v. Virginia case too. Said the trial judge in the original case against the Lovings:

Almighty God created the races white, black, yellow, malay and red, and he placed them on separate continents. And but for the interference with his arrangement there would be no cause for such marriages. The fact that he separated the races shows that he did not intend for the races to mix.

Seriously, he said that.

I understand that the issue of gay marriage isn't something that will go away in the blink of an eye, but I'm glad to see that the fight hasn't ended. This is why I'm in support of gay marriage; just 40 years ago, it would have been illegal for me to marry a white man in the state of Virginia. For what? The color of my skin? For being who I am? For something over which I have no control?

Ain't nobody gonna have any power over me, telling me who I can and can't fall in love with and marry, and vice versa.

Does your dentist rock? Mine does.

I love my dentist.

Over the weekend, I lost a filling. Paranoid that I’d be experiencing sharp pain for a few days, I immediately called my dentist’s office and also sent him an “urgent” page.

My dentist called me back within the hour, reassured me that I'd be alright for the next few days, in that soothing voice I’d always remembered since I was a child, a voice I never noticed had a slight Irish-accented tinge to it until years later.

I love my dentist because his aim is to make me feel as comfortable as possible, even if that involves giving me as much nitrous as I need to feel giddy and not stress out over the fact that he’s about to insert metal picks and other power tools into my mouth. He gives me the gas even for routine cleanings. I always ask the assistant to crank it up just a bit when he’s not looking. And she always does.

Who knew that a visit to the dentist’s office would be as relaxing as it was today? A bit of backstory here: Work is really stressing me out right now. I’m a little wound up, to put it mildly. But there was something comforting in the familiarity of this place – my dentist’s office is truly the comfy place Where Everybody Knows Your Name – the muzak playing over the in-house sound system that hasn’t changed since the 80’s (and it's always that same damn song!); the dental hygenist who always compliments me on my shoes; my dentist telling me to “bite together,” and to “open just a bit” in That Voice; the other dental hygenist who remembered where I worked even though I hadn’t been to the dentist since November ’04 (don’t judge me, I’ve been busy!). I know this sounds silly, but the 30 minutes I spent in that chair was probably just as relaxing as the spa treatment I cancelled on last week.

It must have been the cranked-up nitrous getting to me, but after my dentist told me to bite together, I wanted to laugh and say,

“Oh, Dr. M, you always say that!”

But then I realized that I always want to say that, every single time I come in. It’s almost as if we’re in a three-person play, and we keep re-enacting this one scene. Over and over. But it’s not tedious; it cracks me up!

And then I started to think, what would I do if Dr. M died? Who would be my dentist? I mean, he is getting older. He's probably a grandfather now, even. I’ve been seeing him since I was a little kid. He sends me cards on my birthday, for Jah's sake. Where will I find another nitrous pusher as great as Dr. M?

They always say that it’s good to step out of your Comfort Zone – doing so will force you to grow and change and learn; but sometimes it’s just as good to retreat back into it every once in a while when things get a bit hectic. To regroup. To collect your thoughts. To relax for a fucking minute. Hell, the blog post I intended to write about my dentist visit was way more eloquent in my head (under the influence of nitrous and novocaine, no less) than what I’ve just written here.

I’m not exactly sure the point of this post, other than to remind all of you to brush and floss your teeth regularly.

And to stop and smell the roses, I guess.

Or get your hands on some really good nitrous and chill the fuck out.

As you were.

Damn, this girl's kickin' knowledge.

I loved this.

The girl who made it is a junior in high school.

Creating Beauty

Image courtesy of Hang Nguyen Copyright, Hang Nguyen

***

My cousin's friend, Hang Nguyen, painted that. Loving it.

I have such great admiration for artistic people. I don't know what it is - maybe it's because I was never that great with crayons and coloring books as a kid that I have this deep-rooted awe for people who can render a decent image and bring it to life. That's gotta be it. I mean, with their hands and minds, artists create works that invite people to visualize the world around them through their own gaze. This view provides a different perspective of life that can often times amuse, enrage, or inspire.

Or maybe art is just pretty things to look at?

I don't know. Whatever. I'm not going to even try to be an art critic or anything with this blog entry. I don't even own a black turtleneck. Okay, I'm lying. But my point is, there are so many nice things to look at in this world (and I dont' mean that chick you saw at the grocery store) that maybe we just have to stop for a minute. And take it in. Or maybe ... participate.

Let me explain. Each of us has the capacity to create beauty. Whether it be through painting, music, the written word, wood carving, macaroni necklaces, whatever - this capacity to create beauty is inside us. Imagine what the world would be like if we all focused on creating beauty, rather than chaos.

Have a beautiful weekend, everybody.

Don't denigrate, tolerate!

I’m not addicted to it or anything, but I check the “Rants & Raves” section of Craigslist several times a day when I’m at work. Most of the time, the rants go off on fat chicks and how they should be eradicated off the face of this earth, or come from insane bigots with fucked-up logic. A few times I’ve posted my two cents, mostly in response to people’s postings.

In any case, I continue to be disgusted at the majority of posts on here that display the ugliness of humanity. Let’s take one of the current arguments on the board: Women who call themselves “BBW” (big, beautiful woman). In a nutshell, people are just busting veins trying to justify how they think fat people are ugly, how dare they call themselves “beautiful,” how it’s their fault that they’re overweight, how they’re jealous of skinny people, how they should just shut their fat asses up and get to the gym, etc. Most of the time the “arguments” degenerate to adolescent name calling. Right now, posting disgusting pictures of super obese people is all the rage.

Now, I’m no model, that’s for sure. But I’m a human being, first and foremost. Yes, I think the term "BBW" is cheesy as hell. Yes, people should strive to be as healthy as they can be. Yes, I get disgusted when I see super obese people doing absolutely nothing to eat right, get exercise, just plain give up on themselves. However, for people who are trying to make a difference in their lives, reading shit like this is just plain disconcerting.

I’m trying to turn all this negativity into positivity, using it as a means by which I can bolster my own efforts to get in shape. It’s working sort of, since I pretty much am beginning to second-guess everything I put into my mouth. And I’ve been going to the gym on a regular basis. The last thing I need is hearing noise that makes me think it’s all an exercise in futility.

But it is also making me somewhat afraid and distrustful of people. I mean sure, people are nice to me face to face, but what are they thinking about me, really? And do I care? Really?

Let’s all take the high road and say that these people’s opinions don’t really matter. That they are superficial jerks. That they are bigots blinded by their rage. That they are hateful slime. That some "BBW" must have pissed them off in a past life or something. I, for one, know who my true friends are, and they enjoy me for the kind of person I am.

But.

To some degree, yes. I care. I mean, who doesn’t want to be liked? Plus, one of these fuckers could be responsible for deciding on whether or not I get that promotion one day. Or whether or not I get the house I want to buy. Or whether or not I receive every opportunity available to me. Discrimination is discrimination.

I guess my point is – and I hope that I’m preaching to the choir – that we should be bridges, not walls. We shouldn’t judge. We should treat others the way we'd like to be treated, despite their behavior. If you don't find fat chicks attractive, all good. Just don't make them feel like shit because of it.