Le Moment de Verite!

Canada has been a really big help in my overall rediscovery as a person. I have somewhat found my old self once more, albeit not completely. It's been peachy keen and I must say that I feel that the tides of destiny is boding well for me.

My cousin has been a darling host. I shall repay in kind one day, somehow when my citizenship in the US will be consolidated and when I'm earning surfeit cold hard cash as well. I feel myself rising above my old self. Transcending above the worries and fleeting amid my hopes and dreams.

... I will acheive my success ...

I'm prepping myself in all aspects of my being for my move in California in a month or so. I hope everything comes in full circle. I need to reconstruct my plans into something fool-proof.

Once I step on the Californian soil, it'll be le moment de verite!!!

Canada, BITCH.

I'm here! At last. Everything seems to be a-okay. I'm pretty much satisfied in what I have accomplished so far, but there are more gruelling tasks to be done. I needn't specify what these are.

Anyway, my cousin promised me a great weekend. I hope she means what she said. I'm so happy.

However, I better consolidate matters of consequence that I would most likely do in California for these are the things that will make me achieve greatness. Indeed, greatness is what I strive for and changing the world even a tinge is my dream.

I hope I fulfill my destiny.

I am free.

Freedom has it's responsibilities.

Pray, my friends, for my triumph.

I'm Going to Canada

I'm going to Canada for a hiatus, then to California to establish myself.

I'm going to leave my life in New York, because I'm not happy with my mother. My Greek ex-stepdad spoke to my mother about this and found my side very reasonable.

She apologized and she agreed to let me go.

Now here I am getting ready to embark on probably the greatest journey of my life. I will be on a quest towards rediscovery. Where shall the tides take me? No one knows.

God help me.

Pray for my success.

Another Day, Another Hundred Dollars...

I am so full right now. My mother, grandmother and I drank wine and scrabbled just a while back in honor of my newfound "stable" partime job in Manhattan. It was a sickening game. Why, you pose a query? Well, who would pit against an undisputed champion of scrabble who always used to play it when she was young until she graduated her masters in nursing? No one. My mother is a nurse practioner scrabbler whose skills cannot be debilitated by any form of alcohol. Hell, I think alcohol even augments her performance! That game was sickening indeed to the extent that even I cannot muster. Ack!

Scrabble does not require a replete know-how on vocuabulary. It hinges more on critical thinking and planning. It is somewhat like chess. Heck, I rule in chess more because it's more war-like. Scrabble, on the other hand, is more painstakingly abstract. Ugh... my defeat was disgusting. I tried my best to debilitate my mom's abilities through comedy, booze and all sorts of distractions yet none of them ever seem to have effect on her ultimate scrabbling ability points. If I shall have just bought a chess board, I shall own. Yes, I will be OWNING and PAWNING everyone in sight just as I did my friends in the Philippines. Apparently, Sun Tzu's Art of War does not quite merge with the synoptic rules and boundaries of this Scrabble.

Anyway, pathetic as it may sound, I lost two consecutive games in scrabble to an adult... ATROCIOUS!

Whatever. I shall master this game in the future, nevertheless.

Despite my ungraceful defeat in the silly board game a while back, I still managed to rise gracefully above my real practical troubles -- WORK. It was a yawner in the afternoon. Nothing much really happened except the activity of the monotonous sounds of keyboard being hit upon by impatient fingers getting anxious to finish its task at hand. But before that, the morning, was a different story.

As soon as I got in my reception desk, Dr. Verga immediately ordered me to make calls to his attorney, his patients and the like. Plus, I took a few calls from prospective patients desiring masectomy, alleviation of their post-surgery pains, re-visits and similar cases. I also had to take calls from his fellow doctors and his wife. It was a pretty interesting solo-flight for me a while back, but it did give me invaluable insight and experience regarding the world of medicine. Dr. Verga even discoursed with me about the importance of this experience on conversing with patients if I am really going to take medicine. Take for example my co-worker, Fran. She never really realized the "TRUE" meaning of "Patient" after she took this job seriously. These things that I have found myself into, Dr. Verga mentioned, isn't taught in medicine courses. He even cited his own personal background on medicine. He had to choose this course when he was still fourteen studying in France! Can you believe it? A fourteen year old boy choosing the path he's going to traverse in such an early age. I can't. But hey, Dr. Verga, my employer, is a living proof of that. I shall take his word and consider myself blessed for the invaluable experience I have found myself into.

What can I say? I feel pretty cool managing the whole office by myself. Dr. Verga practically gave me the keys of the office and left 3 hours before my eight-hour-dismissal from work. I felt so adult-ish. That's not all. I got my wage today, too. How lovely is that, eh?

Reprieve from "professionalism's" clutches

Wednesday night, finally. After a day-long 'fuckin work, it has all come to an end -- temporarily. I go solo on Friday. Fran, my officemate, is going to have a well-deserved vacation in Florida with her beloved family which leaves me alone with Dr. Verga in the workplace on Friday. At first, work seemed tractable enough and surprisingly enjoyable enough for me. Now that hours feel like days and days seem like months, I'm sick of work. I just want to hit the hay and take my respite for all eternity like sleeping beauty. Unfortunately, I can't. Responsibilities are required and money earned. Even if it's UTTERLY against my will, I can't just mope about and lax around! Goddamnit! Mother keeps on making me do all these chores! But hey, it's got to be done. After all, I am the man of the house. I could recall the chores yesterday when I had to mow the lawn and give the shrubs and the pine tree a haircut -- THE PINE TREE!!!! Who in the hell would want to go up a ladder and make a perfect cone out of a tree with its leaves going to his face every time he pulls the trigger of the "tree-grooming-mechanism?" NO FUCKING ONE!!! I was literally in camouflage back then. I could've won the Vietnam War by myself with the 'effing camo I was in... Jesus.

Nonetheless, it was all worth it. At least I got something done. I rewarded myself with a very delectable strawberry cheesecake. I know it's bad. I just had to reward myself!!! ZIP IT!!!

As I had accomplished something yesterday, I also did do today. I worked my ass off for eight hours! I got my wage and scurried on home. It was no easy task, I can tell you that. I had to sit on a chair FOODLESS (except for a couple of apples and tea) and type on the PC, rummage through the files, answer the telephone and open the door in Dr. Verga's office! I swear, I thought I was going to faint. Luckily, I got to take the bus ride from Manhattan to Yonkers safely and slept inside there. I hope I didn't snore!

Well, I'm on duty the WHOLE fuckin' week next week except on the fourth of July and the weekend. Plus, I need to go solo on Friday. Wish me luck, folks.

Pray for me.

My Poem... A SEMI-FINALIST in the INTERNATIONAL LIBRARY OF POETRY CONTEST?!?!?!

My mother saw an ad in the New York Times three months ago that states a poetry contest hosted by "poetry.com" or the International Library of Poetry is searching for freestyle poems throughout the country. She told me to reply since she knew of my love for words and it's synoptic potential. It wouldn't hurt anyway. And so, I did. I sent my latest and last, I was thinking at that time, poetry.

A couple of months have passed and we received a mail that I am a semi finalist in the competition. It was totally unexpected! The International Library of Poetry even said that THAT VERY POEM was excellent. It's a good thing some people can understand and appreciate my art since the people that have surrounded me before never really understood or have taken sufficient grasp to it. It's a good thing I did not lose hope. This has given me yet another purpose to accelerate my old and newfound talent. The poetry is titled "The Kiss of Beau Belle." It exhibits my sentiments towards a kiss of a certain someone that I miss presently.

Things change. I guess it's better off this way. Anyway, without further a due... The poem.

The Kiss of Beau Belle

Oh, lurid shades of grey
Pacify my undying taste
For love, for passion
For the permanence of place.

My incandecent core
Shield my apparent fervor
Girdle me with continence
Humble me with lore

As the leaves whisper the sound of stillness
And as the moon emanates power
Evoking the words of silence
Eliciting the warmth to flower

The world bloomed anew
Withing our private world of osculation
God was visible in you
In this divine intervention

Men search interminably for utopia
Not finding them to be true
Nonetheless, I have found my nirvana
In the kiss of me and you.

Mind you, being a semi-finalist in this contest means that this VERY POEM will be published in a book. Specifically, the book is titled "Immortal Verses." Lovely, no?

Beau Belle stands for "Beautiful Bella." Yes, I still think of her until now.

Windfall amidst a World of Calculations

I have a driver's permit.

Yes, I can drive now. Surprised? Yes? I am as well. My mother and I went to this driving office thing with no idea what to accomplish. We just went there to settle a few papers and then the next thing I knew, the staff redirected me to a testroom to take the driving written test. I passed. Wonderful. Lovely. I never expected this. I didn't study AT ALL! What in the hell is that?!?!

I am now on my way to practicing this art that is maneuvering this metallic subject labeled as "the car." Wow. I have to go to this driving school for five hours. Thereafter, I have to take the practical test. I heard the parallel parking was a killer.

Anyway, this is totally unexpected. It just indulged my mentally-inclined ego a hundred folds. Jesus. There ARE divine forces at work here.

What else can I say? That's me. I celebrated my unprecedented success with red wine and a couple of brown ale from England. How lofty.

Wish me luck in the road test, folks.

Noontime in Manhattan

Sure, I have a new job ahead of me. But before everything else comes in full circle, I have to get past the orientation which can really take a lot out of a person; well, that's my opinion. Manhattan, 12:11 pm(5th Ave & 81st Street Co. Museum of Modern Art) There I was, in the car with my mother. She told me it would be better if she were to bring me to work on the orientation day since it was her day off. As we approached the building of our destination, I saw an old looking lady standing on the doorway of what I recalled as the office of Dr. Verga, an Italian plastic surgeon who I was supposed to work for. I approached the pleasant-looking lady and asked her where "Agnes" was. Agnes was the person who referred me to this job; she is a family friend. I call her by the nickname "Tita Gingging." Apparently, the lady was the person who I am going to fill in whenever she's away; she was the secretary. She introduced herself to me by the name "Fran." I knew her name at that time because I make it a habit to know all the vital aspects in every important undertaking that I undergo. She told me to wait inside and take a seat while she clearly waited for a patient, she told me, who was supposed to have a belly-tuck or, in medical terms, abdomina plasti. (I have no idea how to spell it; just did so by the judgement of my hearing.) When I entered the well-kept building, I saw, again, a pleasant looking person in a doctor's garment. I assumed it was Dr. Verga; I was correct. He spoke to me about filling in for Fran and how it was nice to meet me. I responded in kind and told him that it was, indeed, an opportunity to work for him because I was planning to take up medicine for college. After I said that, I saw a slight smirk on Dr. Verga's face. Thereafter, Fran entered with the patient. After which, Dr. Verga catered to the patient. Fran showed me the works... everything. She spoke about how I should operate the telephone, find documents, fax documents, speak to the patients, log the schedule of appointments, find the patient's background forms, xerox the forms, get the insurance, talk to the insurance company if it calls Dr. Verga, and so forth. It was overwhelming to me at first, but I soon got the gist and feel of it. She also toured me around the comfy-feeling office that I just intently listened as she spoke away as the tourguide. When the patient was done speaking to Dr. Verga, she and the doctor went to the front desk where Fran and I was. They were still confabulating. She expressed her utter gratitude of the operations that she felt better about herself and such that she cited a few instances. After which, she bid farewell to us. Surprisingly, people going to that office were so pleasant, they even took notice of little old me. Shucks! Dr. Verga spoke to me as the patient went out the door. He discoursed about my salary, his work, his reputation and the like. Obviously, he is a big name in New York. He works in omnifarious places and manages to put up his own practice in that very office. I was astounded. We idle chatted for a while since Italians are inherently like that. In time, he and Fran told me not to worry about first day because he is always there to answer EVERY question that I have. What a nice guy. He's not like those anal doctors who often demands perfection. I love this job. I'm definitely going to be here the whole summer and LOVE every minute of it. When all was said and done, I jetted away to the car while they still went about their daily business.

Random Thoughts Amalgamated

If you only knew, I would be with you to wipe your tears away I would wrap you around my arms and never let you go I will never let any evil touch your supple skin And take the happiness from your heart. Unconditionally, I idle in the devil’s playground hoping for sweet redemption. How can an enamored soul survive the cesspool of bitterness? His hope will set him free. That a day of reckoning would unshackle your heart From the illusive tether of blindfolded infatuation He looks up to the heavens from the flames of the playground. He simulates the look of the roiling waters of the sea. In agony his body but not his soul, he seeks shelter in harmony. His mind cannot be taken away by the devil. The imperfect design of life demands such imperfect love, So he shall give it -- He deems to be true. Now is not the time to disclose this. Distant from the April breeze he shall idle until time beckons him so, Waiting for her shackles to rust away in the snow He waits in quietude, from all that is ostensible. He will wipe away the tears from her eyes when time beckons him so. Now is not yet time; he knows this to be true. But when it comes, he will replenish, revitalize and renew.