24 and full of life

The last time I had a birthday party was when I turned 7 years old. I remember running around the house with a toy gun and shooting people in the face… twice. Or maybe not. I was a bad kid though, so I wouldn’t put it past me. 

Remember: 24 seconds is a full shot clock. 24 hours is a full day. And I’m 24 years old and full of life. Thank you to everyone who celebrated this special day with me. It meant so much because it was out of my personal ordinary. Dinner and drinks with family and friends, listening to Pursuit of Happiness while holding a bottle of Hennessy, and missing my flight to Little Rock the next morning… you can’t beat that. One last thing – I share my birthday with John Legend and Denzel Washington. Oh I’m fancy huh? Thank you again and Happy New Year.

Signing off from Atlanta

Can I get a little action before my flight?

 

Yes, that is correct. I bring you this blog post from inside a Virgin… America plane, that is. I thought it would be a lot tighter, but it’s actually quite spacious. That’s what I get for being a Southwest flyer, lower standards when it comes to comfort. You might be wondering, “why all of a sudden in-appro-pro? This language isn’t consistent with your previous blog posts, sir duke!” Straight to the point – it’s because they did it to me first, man. They did it to me first.

Now we all know before going through airport security, we gotta put-out a little bit and strip. Take those shoes off, unbuckle that belt, remove the jacket, and let them check your goodies. The next step however, was a bit foreign to me. This was my first time at the Dulles airport and the TSA had also recently implemented new security measures that allowed for them to be more… what’s the word… SENSUAL? I walked in front of the scanner and was told to lift up my arms and throw up the delta sign. I was like, nah… I’ll throw up the Roc symbol instead. Quite fitting, since the Roc Boyz had been my anthem for the past couple of months. But NOPE! Old girl tells me, “Excuse me sir, I need you to put your hands up like THIS!" (Forms a triangle with her thumbs and index fingers). I was laughing inside. Wow lady. Fine. Take a chill pill.

Just when I thought the fun was over, old dude was waiting for me at the end of the assembly line (with a smile he couldn’t hold in). “Good evening sir. I’ll be patting you down, starting from your knee and up your leg, until I reach your torso.” Alright. That’s cool. No biggie. I’ve been patted down before. But NAH-UH homie! This wasn’t your Friday-night-casual-pat-down-before-entering-the-club kind of pat down. This was RAW. Old dude literally made a ring around my knee and tightly worked his way up, as if his hands were a VAGINA giving birth to the rest of my leg.

Upper thigh. Ok, we’re good right? NOPE! I’ve played enough violent video games to know where the torso begins. So I thought to myself, “Oh god.” Old dude had his hands on me till he hit the crotch of my jeans, and then he finished it off with a little upward tug. I couldn’t help but shake my head and smile out loud (is that possible?). Thank goodness I still sag my jeans a little bit. Imagine if Peter Pan had been flexing his muscles? Just sayin’. This ain’t high school when it would've just pointed straight out because of my baggy jeans. You could've lost an eye, man.  This is the era of slim jeans SON! It would’ve been snuggled down next to my thigh... Is the awkwardness over? NOPE, it doesn’t stop here.

“Alright sir. Now if you could just turn around, we’d like to check out your backside.” Could he have chosen better words? So of course, I turn around and he does the same exact thing… but to the same leg! He makes a ring around my knee and tightly works his way up my thigh. That upward tug was VERY uncomfortable. Could he have gotten any closer to my mistletoe? Sigh. And now my left leg feels lonely, but it’s cool. Security checkpoint passed. I turn around to see old dude trying to hold in his laugh like it was a hiccup. I give him a smirk, shook my head, and asked him, “Long day?”… He tilts his head, sighs, and replies, “yeah man.”

Thank you TSA Officer. That is the most action I’ve gotten in months. I feel like we know each other THIS much better. To top things off, the inside of the plane looks like they’re scanning for some type of residue. Makes you wonder how many people became members of the Mile High Club up in this piece. Just sayin’.  

 

Even Huey Freeman cries sometimes

“I’ve never prayed before. I don’t even know who I’m praying to. Maybe I’m too young to know what the world is supposed to be. But it’s not supposed to be this. Can’t be this. So please…” – Huey Freeman

We are different people when we are by ourselves. Even Huey has cried and prayed. Who would have known? And with that… I am more than what you see. I will greet you with a smile and a hug or a personal handshake – and I would MEAN it. I will ask you how your day is. I will ask you to rank it from 0 to 10 or maybe even ask you what song best describes how your day is going – and I would GENUINELY want to know. And if the conversation gets past the surface and you share any concerns or troubles you may have, I will LISTEN. And if you ask me, I will give you the best advice I can. You could think that I’m just a robot programmed to look at life in the best possible light. But if you dig deep enough, you’ll know that I am more than what you see.

Behind every squinty-eyed smile are the tears that made my eyes burn and the hours spent in bed looking up at the ceiling. My smile is more than just a flex of a muscle, it involves overcoming the scenes I replay in my mind that I wish to have back and the scenes I replay that I wish to escape. Behind every hug are the many warm hugs I took for granted and the sleepless nights I spent asking God how things will eventually turn out. I just want to know. Behind every laugh are the disappointments I hope to never experience again and the regrets I need to let go. And behind every advice is the strength I’ve developed to get myself out of the house and be that person you see.

Shit. Even I am more than what I see. I see a man confused and will often go with the flow. A man that gives advice that even HE has a hard time following. A man who wants to put his career on hold to develop hobbies and skills that he may never even use for THAT dream job. A man who wants to get away from politics and social justice despite being molded by his experiences to address that very type of work. A man who wants to focus on his life outside of the 9-5 work hours so that it doesn’t define who he is. A man who is reluctant to consider a permanent position and is willing to starve to stay in DC. A man who is willing to give up a stable paycheck to recapture his creativity and be an entrepreneur. A man who gave up the most important comfort zones he’s ever had in his life to be accountable to himself, and himself only. And now the world sarcastically tells him “good job”.

Good decisions, bad decisions. I’ve made them both. But it’s ok. The best decisions are the ones we’ve already made.* And yes, I have made the best decisions. We just have to own up to it, face the consequences, and move forward in the healthiest way possible. And for me, it is to stay as positive as I can and be that person you see.

But it's EXHAUSTING to stay positive ALL THE TIME.  It requires a long process of confronting my fears, insecurities, regrets, and the uncertainties of life. However, it's a necessary evil to get to where I want to be. I don’t know if I’m there. Or if I’m even close to it. But I do know that I’m going in the right direction. I’m not sure how I know this, but I feel it. Some days, I just leave it to FAITH and say ‘I believe in it’:

You shouldn’t let yourself sink deeper in distress… just let the world go round.

*A.Lomeli

The show begins. The show goes on.

[THE SHOW BEGINS]

When I was in middle school, I scanned through all the camcorders in the Best Buy ads. I wanted to buy one SO badly but it was unaffordable. When I finally had enough money in college, I still wanted to buy one, but never actually knew what to film. By this time, college had drained the imagination and creativity out of me. Sad. I know. And then in May 2008, I saw Lupe Fiasco’s Superstar video for the first time. Within the next hour, I bought a $400 video camera. Creative juices circa middle school began to flow once again (random fact: I was voted Most Creative in our 8^th grade yearbook). My goal? To engage, cultivate, and inspire young students. I went to New Orleans that summer to teach 6^th grade math and science. And if I was the best teacher I could be, then my students learned to do the following:

(1) identify the number of valence electrons in an atom and draw an electron dot diagram

(2) find the mean, median, and mode of a data set to test and inquire about potential and kinetic energy

(3) convert fractions into decimals to better compare the densities of different objects

(4) use substitution skills in two variable equations and apply it to Newton’s second law of motion (F = ma)

(5) add/subtract integers to analyze force body diagrams by determining an objects net force and direction

But of course, if I were to exceed my own expectations, not only would they learn what I listed above, but they would also be proud of everything they did. They would be able to look back at that summer and confidently say, “yes, I did that”. They would realize that at the end of the program, there was a reason for learning everything we did – and it was called the Final Exam. Just kidding. That was harsh. In addition to the exam, we had our MUSIC VIDEO:

Being involved in the production process showed my students the positive educational benefits of music videos

[THE SHOW GOES ON]

This past week, I had meetings with an Early Childhood Education expert and an Elections guru, who advised me in my short-term job search and my long-term career development. Simply put, do what I love and the rest will follow. Easier said than done, as my funds are gradually depleting. They were right about this though – I need to stop living five years in the future and do what I enjoy NOW. And then I heard Lupe Fiasco’s newest single on Pandora a few days later. The lyrics to The Show Goes On reinforces their advice:

“One in the air for the people that ain’t here. Two in the air for the father that’s there.

Three in the air for the kids in the ghetto. Four for the kids who don’t wanna be there.

None for the n-ggas trying to hold them back. Five in the air for the teachers not scared,

To tell those kids that’s living in the ghetto that the n-ggas holdin back that the World is theirs!”

I shall once again refer back to my first blog post: am I mistaking coincidence for fate, and exaggerating the meaning of the moment? Is this a sign to give teaching another chance? Or at least work directly with young students at this stage in my career? This could be another opportunity to take my creativity to new heights. We shall see. I’ll keep you all updated on my Lupe-Inspired creativity in my Cudi-Inspired blog. Peace and enjoy this link: Lupe Fiasco - The Show Goes On

Sleepless in Seattle and Dormir-less in DC

You GOTTA keep the alliteration! It is a MUST. Marooned in Miami. Disappointed in Denver. Sleepless in Seattle. I make this movie reference for two reasons: (1) It’s one of my Mama’s favorite movies and I tend to watch it as the holiday season approaches. Yes. I just recently watched it. (2) I really CAN’T sleep and it’s physically wearing me down. Help?

(1) Sleepless in Seattle

We rented this movie on laser disc when I still lived in the Philippines. Remember those things? It looked like a CD but only 10 times bigger and 5 pounds heavier. I was more worried about dropping and chipping the damn thing than I was worried about scratching it. Hideous, but it was definitely ahead of its time. The movie came out in June ‘93, so I’m assuming I watched it with my Mama in ‘94 – the year that I left her for the U.S.

Unlike millions of people who watched the movie, it wasn’t about the love story for me. Of course, it wasn’t – I was a kid. To me it was about Jonah Baldwin, a young child who just lost his mother to cancer. He and his dad moved to Seattle to start their new lives and eventually, he goes on a mission to find a new mom.

My mission was NEVER to find a new mom (easy for me to say, God rest your mother’s soul Jonah). I held on to the one I HAD and LOVED even though we were 7,300 miles apart and 13 years away from being with each other. We’ve always been physically separated in some way. After the age of 7, we were on opposites sides of the Pacific Ocean. In college, I was in the Bay Area and she was in southern California. And as I start my professional career, we’re now on opposite sides of the country. As far back as I can remember, I’ve always had this feeling of missing her. I’m used to it. But hey, not many people can feel their mother’s love as much as I can. And I’m blessed for that. Despite the distance and time, it’s amazing how similar we are in humor, habits, and mindset. AMAZING. As I watch this movie now, I don’t long to see my Mama in the same way. I KNOW when I’ll see her – I’ll be home for Christmas. But back then, I had no idea. Next year? 2 years from now? 3? 4? 5? We no longer have the immigration, nor the $1000-plane-ticket barrier to see each other. She’s here now (in Amurricuh) and we’re becoming best friends =) … Oh yeah, Jonah found a new mom. Check Sleepless and Seattle out on Netflix, currently available for online streaming.

(2) Dormir-less in DC

I’ve been having a really hard time sleeping. I don’t know what it is. Or maybe I do… I moved to DC at the end of January, yet my sleep schedule is still on Cali time. All I know is that sleeping between 2-4 AM every night is not healthy. I don’t appreciate saying good morning to the bags under my eyes as they travel further south. Or seeing the two gray hairs that taunt me as I stare at the bathroom mirror. Or the extra wrinkles I see on my face on tagged Facebook pictures. Not cool. And I know funemployment isn’t the reason for my insomnia, as I did the same thing while I was working.

I tried thinking about what used to help me sleep on time, and sleep so well. But it only made me think more and sleep less. Let’s not go down that route, especially if I can’t do anything about it. I have a very limited time to get my shit together. Can I do it? I WILL do it. Am I stressed out? Of course not. There’s ONE very important reason that I refuse to stress, which I will share soon enough.

For now, I think I’ll just try to dose off  to “Bye Bye Blackbird”. Jonah’s mother used to sing that to him when he had nightmares. Interesting fact: I used to be in chorus in 5^th and 6^th grade, and we sang that song. I was a soprano at the time and I even had a solo! “No one here can love or understand me. Oh what hard luck stories they all hand me.”… (Make my bed and light the light. I’ll arrive. Late tonight. Blackbird, bye bye). Good times. And I may just have to try the one-glass-of-red-wine-a-night method. Any other night-cap ideas? BBQ-Ribs-induced-Itis perhaps?  

And for all you CAPRICORNS out there, here is our daily horoscope. Very fitting:

If you find yourself tired and irritable now, Capricorn, you should know that this is normal. You may have had a few months that were a little too studious (yeZZir!). Would you like to continue with the same rhythm? Be careful that your ambitions don’t lead you to physical exhaustion. If you get sick, you will be even more frustrated. So be wise and take care of your own basic needs.

Letting the immigrants 'fend' for themselves- a Thanksgiving Story

That’s what the Wampanoags should’ve done to the Pilgrims! Maybe it would’ve changed the course of America. Maybe the Wampanoags wouldn’t have been stripped of their rights, land, language, and culture. Maybe… Ok. I’m over it. I’m a nerd who likes to ponder the what-ifs of history, but the Thanksgiving story isn’t one of them. I do however enjoy sharing my family’s recent Thanksgiving tradition and how it all unfolded. Interesting stuff. Get the popcorn ready.

We LOVE going out to eat on this blessed day. No need to spend an entire day preparing and cooking the meal; just chill at home with the family and watch the Detroit Lions get their asses beat on their home turf. As for the clean up – what clean up? It’s called putting the leftovers in the fridge. I love it, as I’m always the go-to dishwasher. Here’s the list of restaurants we’ve gone to since the tradition started: Lucille’s Smokehouse BBQ (2006, 2008, 2010), Black Angus (2007), and Greenfield Churrascaria (2009). Notice how Lucille’s was chosen 3 times. It’s like the Costco of all restaurants – massive food portions and the taste is orgasmic! You can never go wrong with BBQ beef back ribs, brisket, tri-tip, a fine selection of SWINE, and many other sides that fit the repertoire. Best of all, we get to binge eat on leftovers like many other families who prepare their feasts do. Ahhh, the life.

From left to right: cousin, nephew (oldest), nephew (youngest), me, nephew (middle), Mama, brother, Papa, brother-in-law

With the exception of 2010 (when too many families decided to eat at Lucille’s and we were forced to order take out), we enjoyed a family dinner at the restaurant. As a tradition, we sneak (steal?) little souvenirs in our to-go boxes, including little plates, saucers, mugs, barbecue sauce, and anything that tickles our fancy. I could easily increase our Thanks-TAKING capacity and sneak things in my sister’s purse – but I know better than to mess with a Coach and Louis Vuitton fiend. Don’t fuck with her purse. When we get home, we bring out the alki and set up for the Texas HoldEm marathon that kicks off our weekend sleep deprivation. As for the shopping, we would usually be too lazy or mentally unprepared to partake in Black Friday festivities. We resort to going to the mall the next day when all the best deals are gone. But let’s get back to how immigrants fit into this American story.

In 1994, I immigrated to the United States and celebrated my first-ever Thanksgiving. Up until 5 years ago, my immediate family always spent it at my uncle’s house, where we had the traditional American feast – turkey, glazed ham, stuffing, cranberry sauce and a whole bunch of other stuff. Can you tell that I don’t remember, nor do I know what a traditional Thanksgiving dinner consists of? In 2006, my uncle stopped having the big celebration and thus the immigrants were left to ‘fend’ for themselves (jokingly of course). We never learned how to make Thanksgiving dinner and we had no reason to. Why bake a 20-pound turkey just to feel like we’re celebrating the holiday? And to be completely honest, I was never a big fan. Turkey is boring. And so is glazed ham and stuffing. What is stuffing anyway? If it’s just something to fill your stomach, then I think I’ll pass and move on to the rice. And what do you eat cranberry sauce with? It looks just like jello to me. And I hate yams, what’s wrong with having regular potato?

Maybe I’m just being a hater, and I don’t mean to offend those who enjoy the traditional feast. But if my taste buds aren’t accustomed to it, then what can I do? I don’t expect others to have a craving for balut (chicken embryo) or chicharon bulaklak (deep fried pork intestine). Yes, I love that shit. In fact, I might just have some tomorrow. So give me my spoon, fork, rice, and meat because the immigrant in me will always prevail when it comes to food. Thank you Ms. Thanksgiving for not imposing your meals on my family, but most of all, thank you for letting the federal government declare you a holiday so that I can spend time with the fam bam and take a much-needed break from life.

I hope everybody had a wonderful Thanksgiving weekend with family and/or friends. Let’s not forget that we can be as THANKFUL at any time during the year. Have a great week!

Human Connection 101 at Barnes and Noble

The book opens on page X

For the past couple of weeks, I’ve made it a habit to visit my neighborhood Barnes and Noble to work on my job search. So far, so good! I’m following leads and setting up meetings. As focused as I’ve been though, there’ve been days when my mind wasn’t fully functioning. I completely zone out without being in deep thought. It’s a feeling that oscillates between numbness and restlessness. I sit silently with a blank stare on my face, too lethargic to do anything. Suddenly a dose of Four Loko is injected in my veins and I can’t restrain myself from wandering the house aimlessly. But honestly, it’s not a bad thing at all, just as long as I’m aware of it. It lets me know that there’s a disconnect between my active thoughts and my subconscious. I just have to bridge the gap, re-focus my energy, and move forward. You feel me?

The conversation begins on page X

Long-story-short, I took my usual trip to Barnes and Noble; only this time, I had NO AGENDA. In times like these, I usually end up going back and forth between Facebook and Gmail, as if my life depended on it. But instead, I end up having a conversation with a stranger the entire time I was there. How does this happen?!? Granted, she was a beautiful woman – nice frame, natural curls, attractive smile. But by beautiful, I also mean 30 years old, recently married, and 4 months pregnant. There was no secret agenda on my end, so don’t get it twisted!

It wasn’t so much about WHAT we talked about, but more so HOW we talked about them. We took the time to listen to each other and connected the parallels of our lives with our personal stories – about our family, our goals, our identity within a multicultural setting, and so forth. We were genuine with our words and enthusiastic with our laughter – counting our blessings and even making light of the most depressing circumstances that happened in our lives. Despite being complete strangers, we revealed our insecurities and made ourselves vulnerable to judgment. But it felt so comfortable. Simply put – we were living in AUTHENTICITY and not in FEAR.  

As we spoke, we also reflected. When talking to friends, I take for granted details that I expect them to already understand. In doing so, I constrain my stories to bullet points and lose sight of the little things that make up my being. But when talking to this stranger, important details naturally flowed out and I literally listened to myself. Best of all, my authenticity was reciprocated. The conversation created a human connection so powerful that the gap between my active thoughts and my subconscious began to close. It hasn’t completely meshed, but I’ll always look back at this moment if my mind goes astray. 

The conversation ends on page X

She was a 2^nd year law student at Georgetown University, studying at Barnes and Noble to escape the law school bubble. At approximately 2:30 PM, our conversation started. She was on page X of her textbook while my laptop remained closed. At approximately 5:30 PM, our conversation ended. She was still on page X of her textbook and my laptop was still closed.

The BOOK is now CLOSED… on to the back cover

Human connection continues to be under-appreciated amidst our technological media. I’m not against communicating behind screen names, social media, and text messages. I do it all the time – it’s efficient and people are more likely to hit you back. But when something like a Q&A Facebook trend becomes the only reason why you get in touch with another person… go slap yourself. Be authentic to yourself and the people around you. Let authenticity resonate through your words and actions. Stop living out your fears and insecurities and have a REAL CONVERSATION.

 

Pursuit of (CREATING) Happiness?

Our lives are shaped around coincidences and how we react to them.  How do I react to this one?

Within 2 hours of my first blog post, I dined at a Chinese restaurant and received the fortune above: some pursue happiness; you create it. How fitting is that? Now I must admit, I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. I HAD JUST claimed that we tend to mistake coincidence for fate and exaggerate the meaning of the moment. I’m one to let situations marinate in my head before changing my entire mindset. So I told myself, imma let this one sit in the fridge, next to the hardening eggs and the jigglin' jello…

After an emotional roller coaster of a week, I’m proud to announce that my blog name has become somewhat of a misnomer. Already? Well damn. There’s definitely still a search, but no longer is there a pursuit. I have everything I need within myself; it’s just a matter of recognizing my blessings in all its forms. My reaction to this coincidence? It’s a reminder to be AUTHENTIC to myself and to the people around me. And with that, I give you my first BEFORE and AFTER segment, themed around K.Cudi's Pursuit of Happiness:

People told me  slow my roll, I’m screaming out – fuck that! Imma do just want I want, lookin’ ahead no turning back

BEFORE: Sorry friends, I gotta keep you all out of the loop. I need to know how I really feel without you justifying my own actions (sigh). And then I'm gonna write a blog to get my creative juices flowin' and purify myself in the waters of Lake Minnetonka (deeper sigh).

AFTER: Maaaayn, I'll keep yall in the loop when I'm ready. But forreal, I've learned to listen and to trust myself. I got this (wink).

If I fall if I die, know I lived it to the fullest. If I fall if I die, know I lived and missed some bullets

BEFORE: Sometimes I feel that my own optimism will be the death of me. At times I know what I want, but I'm not willing to fight for it. Things will eventually fall into place. It is what IT IS (shrug).

AFTER: I can be optimistic and still keep it real. I'll take ownership of my dreams and goals. Make it mine without feeling entitled. Yes, it is what I MAKE IT (smile).

I'm on the pursuit of happiness and I know - everything that shine ain't always gonna be gold

BEFORE: I'm so confused. Is this what I really want? (dramatic pause. and in one motion - close eyes, tilt the head back and place the back of the hand on the forehead)

AFTER: I wanna know where the gold at! I'm serious.

I’ll be fine once I get it, I’ll be good..

BEFORE: Hopefully this music video phase of my life will end sooner than later. And you’ll never have to see another blog post from Archer. But let’s be real, I’m ONLY 23 years old. I don’t know what the fuck I want, I don’t know what the fuck I need, and I don’t know what the fuck I’m looking for (walks toward the sunset, never to be heard from again).

AFTER: Ohhh shieeet! I'm turning 24 next month. I don’t know what I want, I don’t know what I need, and I don’t know what I’m looking for. Oh yeah, that’s right - a JOB. This one tugs at the heart strings, but it also tickles the funny bone. I’ll be fine once I get it, I’ll be good (walks into a bar and sips on Grand Marnier, fade to black).

But let's end this on a serious note. To me, happiness is something I've learned to create without lying to myself. Will my readers get the inside scoop on my childhood? Possibly.

So be AUTHENTIC. I know that to maximize my happiness, I need to be the BEST PERSON I CAN BE – to myself, to the people I love, to my family, to my friends, to my acquaintances, and believe it or not, to strangers. It’s about creating karma, not receiving it. At the end of the day, I know that I’ve done everything in my power to make this world BETTER PLACE. Do I expect the same from everyone else? Not at all. DO you. BE you. And I’ll meet you halfway. But in most cases, I’ll meet you where you are =).

If only life was a music video

Wouldn’t life be so much easier if you could just compartmentalize all your complicated emotions and situations into a music video? When you find yourself in deep thought, there would be pseudo-tangible images to refer back to. Imagine this – you choose a song that captures your mood and listen to it on repeat. Then you mentally produce the video, as you lay awake in a bed full of sorrow, crying like you’ve never cried before OR as you smile at the world, romanticizing the possibilities. Finally, you export it and store it away, either permanently or for easy access. It’s that SIMPLE.

The thing is, a lot of us actually do this ALL THE TIME. Rather than choosing the song however, it’s the song that chooses us. The song that plays in the background while sharing a moment with someone is concatenated and auto-saved in your mental hard drive. Or the song that plays on the radio, while you’re either at the crest or the trough of your emotional wave, becomes a permanent reference point engrained in your memory. We mistake coincidence for fate, and exaggerate the meaning of the moment. The song, that JUST HAPPENED TO PLAY at that EXACT MOMENT becomes “the theme song”, “my song”, “your song”, “our song”, etc. When I was a kid, this was called imagination. But now it’s just plain dramatic. Sigh. Just because we’re adults, why do we have to let go of coping mechanisms that make emotions easier to handle? Fuck it. I still do it. Why overwhelm myself with a million shades of gray when I can choose between black and white? And we all know I would choose black.

I’m GUILTY of this. In my most vulnerable moments, I tend to lose myself in a song. I enter a state of Limbo in which my daydreams can feel so vividly real. I either fall in a deep hole as the words strangle the tears and sobs out of my body OR I’m on cloud 9 floating amidst the chorus with one hand in my pocket, while the other is holding a glass of Grand Marnier. Black and white. It’s that SIMPLE.   

But then there comes a phase in our lives when the only thing that emotionally overwhelms us are the questions we ask about OURSELVES. Specifically, it is the questions that we ask in the context of ONLY OURSELVES. Who am I? We can hope for our lives and situations to end up like a music video, knowing it’ll be resolved in due time – it’s easy. We can live vicariously through others as opposed to living our own realities – it’s easy. We can know that it doesn’t affect us directly and that the outcomes are predictable – it’s easy. But of course, it’s a FALSE REALITY, and we have a fear of putting ourselves out there.

I’M in that phase of MY LIFE. When the questions have become so personalized, I CAN’T just ignore the million shades of gray. I can go about my day and pretend that everything is business as usual, fool others along the way… but I can’t fool myself. These past 2 weeks, in my most vulnerable moments, I zoned out at work, at a party, and at brunch with my best friend – the song literally found me, all 3 times. fuck black. fuck white. and fuck gray. Let's add some color to this canvass. PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS.

The song is a mellow positive track that lets us know, more or less - that it's ALL GOOD (until you read between the lines). Throw in synthesizers playing several slow high notes, sync it up with the bass, piano, a few guitar notes here and there and viola! The feeling of the combined sounds and mellow lyrics is laid back, creating an atmosphere of relaxation that causes the listener to contemplate one's true happiness and true self. True story.

[stay tuned for the video premiere]