Went to see a Mets Game in Shea Stadium, …

Went to see a Mets Game in Shea Stadium, still nursing a cold and cursing at the occassional writer’s block…tomorrow will be another day!

Changing Names, Swerving Games

I held a grudge against my parents for giving me a name that is so short. While my siblings have unique and longer names, I have a two-syllable moniker. I often asked them the reason for their not being ingenious or even creative while thinking of my imprint. My birth certificate said it all; my parents were not even ready thus I was listed as baby girl. It took a few days before they “found” my name to put on the paper. While I wished for a longer name, I did not like much my last name. No one can blame me since I have a bunch of reasons while growing up. First, when the class was arranged alphabetically I was always among those at the far end of the line. Graduation rites were a bummer since the announcer would be tired already thus my name would sound more like a mumble. Second, I was always asked which region I came from since my name is not common. I have to dissect the facts from my mom hailing from Manila to my dad from Pangasinan. After all my explaining, all I get is a quizzed look. My agony does not end there since it would be subsequently followed by “Really? But your mom is Chinese, right?” Courtesy would force me to explain the facts regarding my mom’s ancestry. Third, many teachers would mispronounce my last name with so much emphasis on the r sound that it sounded like a razor. Situations like this were embarrassing and I have to correct them each time.

It was in college when I learned the value of a signature. I experimented with strokes and loops to make my name stand out but I always end up using my regular handwriting. My insecurity was compounded since my best friend; Jason has this unique artist’s signature. He proudly affixes it on his paintings. I wrote poems but who would even bother to look at my signature. I also proclaim my dad’s signature as very unique. It looks like a rollercoaster in Europe with its flair and sophistication. Another thing that bugged me was that I have similar signatures with my siblings. So much for originality but throughout time, I have learned that my name is not all that bad. I was not named Boots or after a fruit like Strawberry. Little by little I learned to love my first name. My signature did not bother me anymore since I got used to it like a second skin. My name is a crucial part of me.

I barely have three days to go before I change my last name. Somehow, I feel I am letting go of something that I had for the longest time and now, I will possess another’s. I am happy with my decision. I am certain that no matter how I am called, I would always be the same person. I see my changing names as another journey, an adventure for the thrill- seekers like me.

Presently, I am experimenting on my new signature. I am still attempting to put loops and tails but I keep forgetting them the next time. However, I am still hopeful that my signature would one day be a special imprint on a book, short film or even a company =D

 

 

 

 

And The Beat Goes On…

I was 7 years old, no front teeth

I learned a song I found so sweet

It was “Explosion” on the Radio

By the boyband Menudo

I memorized the whole tape

I even had a red/ blue cape

My siblings were into it too

They might hate me but it was true

I was 10 years old in fourth grade

Love songs were constantly made

Well it was just the perfect time

I wanted my first crush to be mine

In school ff course, we had music class

Inspite of our voices that can break through glass

Every quarter during a nerve wrecking test

We quacked a song to our very best

I was 13 years old, freshman year

A different genre hit my eager ear

It was time for head banging rock

I still say it did not suck

While reviewing for my religion subject

The songs of White Lion were perfect

Include Slaughterhouse in my room

My imagination would then bloom

I adored Guns and Roses and Metallica

Sweet child of mine was audio Nirvana

I swore on my little comfy bed

Enter Sandman with no dread

This went on until I was 16, year to graduate

High school went by with my unsure fate

With me I carried my love for rockers

Piles of tape, my mom became bonkers

I entered college that rainy month of June

Former classmates in different dunes

At night as I lay with tons of books

I got lost to Sebastian Bach’s hooks

My circle of friend grew, so did my taste

Alternative was added in sudden haste

Soul Asylum, Silverchair, Incubus

How can I be strong to refuse?

My best friend told me to keep an open mind

Made me listen to old songs he can find

Beatles, Cascades and the Beach Boys

Kokomo was the official summer voice

From backstreet boys, I switched to local music

Rivermaya, Siakol, Parokya ni Edgar I did stick

Alanis Morisette was also my heroine

Alongside Air Supply like my oxygen

Then the songs got linked to affairs of the heart

Relationships were based on songs’ parts

Until this day, when a familiar song plays

I remember the guy who made my day

Now I am more exposed to more artists

On my Ipod, I have 5 to go lists

From Opera, Beethoven and Mozart

Grunge, Hip hop and Reggae an art

Music will always be available

For my curiosity is insatiable

Love and reminiscing of old songs is forever

And new songs I can’t wait to discover

4 and 1/2 Resolutions to Keep

Watch and enjoy the video!

Filteany- Live!

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