Chapter X: The day the Clouds Caught us

We climbed all seven-hundred steps to the peak of Mount Tapias and traced the scene of mountains and sea with hungry eyes. Greyscale clouds moved over the islands just beyond ours; how fast were they going, we asked ourselves. We did not know they would pass so quickly above us: together we ran beneath an over-flowing river, the torrent of rain through and through, the dark grey sky wrapped tightly around us. Descending the rocky cement hill, our soaked sandals splashed past the dogs with sad eyes taking shelter beneath painted metal roofs.

Through the gated wooden door, Tita Anabelle and Kuya Jhun were eating dinner by candle-light. Ka-in na! They waved to us and offered dinner. Since we arrived on the island, there were “brown outs” everyday. That’s that the locals called it. It’s what happens in the summers. The demand for electricity was too high. Kuya Jhun, my uncle, told us that he was good friends with the mayor, and asked her to spare their house from the brown outs. I don’t think we were ever spared.

Kyle and I shared a small room upstairs; it was their son, Buboy’s room. He moved to Manila to study pharmacology in the university. In it was a single, plastic chair, a small television set and an air-conditioner. There were pink curtains covering the single window. The room was still cold. We dried ourselves and lay together in the darkness.

The world outside sounded like millions of heavy, angry fingers rapping on the tin roof.

“STORIES TO TELL OUR KIDS” A (soon-to-be) Novel

I was inspired suddenly, at two-something in the morning, to write a blurb of a novel I have yet to put into existence. It feels so real to me. It is like a sleeping child that will one day grow older. I will make this tangible, one day.

The title of it, is called, “STORIES TO TELL OUR KIDS.” I hope you’ll enjoy it. Feel free to leave any points of constructive criticism.

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“STORIES TO TELL OUR KIDS,” manifests itself as a non-fiction hybrid, sketching a portrait of the seemingly-mundane life of a twenty year old named Claire. She retells, in skin-touching detail and breathtaking clarity, her whimsical and capricious experiences around the globe. Told in either first or third person, her unconventional writing style of quirky vignettes, prosetry and short stories strewn together as an unpredictable collage induces any reader into her metaphysical and lucid reality. She finds this comparable to the rhythm of a brief summer rainstorm, or the sensation of standing in the midst of an unpredictable wind.

Haruki Murakami, her most reveled, fiction-writing muse, puts this exact feeling into words: “It’s hard to tell the difference between sea and sky. Between voyager and sea. Between reality and the workings of the heart” (Kafka on the Shore).

In no particular order her tales consist of metaphors and similes rooted in simplicity. They are cherished old photographs at the bottom of a drawer. Claire’s voice wields emotion like a great river. Running the length of the Garden State Parkway, through the intimate stretches of time etched between herself and her true love; It runs north to Montreal, a city of shimmering chartreuse and marigold scents and across the Mediterranean, where paper-skinned grandmothers smile toothless in stone villages on the Mars-like surface of Crete. Wearing the soles of her mother’s worn shoes, she finds herself traversing her heritage along the clear-water coasts of the tiny Philippine island of Coron. This is her unending adventure.

At the end of each day, Claire will watch the sky grow heavy in its tangerine succulence. And in this sweetness, wherever she may be, she will daydream of small children to lovingly tuck into sleep.

“These,” Claire will whisper to her lover, “are the stories to tell our kids.”

The Mercury Retrograde, An Early Spring, Part II

I made lumpia for the first time.

Filipino Eggrolls! Heck yeah! I was in my local Asian market Kam Man Food when it hit me: let’s call up mom and ask her to list off ingredients for lumpia! It’s always been up there in the ethnic foods i’ve wanted to learn how to make, you know, to continue tradition and my gastronomy, as Patrick says.

My mom texts me this:
Bean sprout, cabbage, green onion, carrots, green beans, sweet potato. Slightly brown the ground pork, then saute garlic and onion with it. Salt and pepper and little soy sauce, then put sweet potato and carrots til halfway tender then put all the rest of veggie! Half cook as much as possible then drain it. Don’t put water ! Juice will come out from the veggies. When it’s cold, you can start to wrap it. Don’t forget to buy wrapper. Wet the edge of the wrapper at end of folding. You could add shrimp for more taste. Enjoy!

I spent a good hour and a half slowly browsing the market, inspecting every package, vegetable, fish head and Asian candy.

It was a Thursday evening, sometime after midnight, and I decided: I want to start cooking this now. It was just after 1 a.m., right after a small house party, when I cleared the left over beer off the table, laid out the cutting board, strainer, and cutting knife. I put music onto the 8-Track player. Now, without further adieu:

Perfectly crispy with the sweet, soft, vegetable inside. I was so proud of myself! With just a little bit of Thai Sweet Chili Sauce, (or vinegar, if you prefer) you have yourself a delicious, filling meal. I double wrapped the ones I planned on freezing. When you want to fry them up, there is no thawing necessary! Throw them right into the hot oil and within minutes, you have fresh tasting lumpia! Hooray!

My plans for this weekend?! Hang out with my buddy Hope Thomas and Allie Allie Mason (we’re hanging out right after the last bell rings; she’s a high school teacher.) We’re going to get Thai food in Bloomfield. Then I’m driving straight down to pick up the love of my life, Kyle, and we’re going straight to Philadelphia!

Enjoy the sweet beginnings of spring, my friends. :)

insomnia

It’s amazing, really, how things change. I went from having four blogs bookmarked: Mine, Allie’s, Jiyun’s and Reem’s–to twelve. I feel like a trend setter! That’s something new. And what else is new is that i’m typing this from the local Borders Books & Cafe. Free Wi-Fi, isn’t that just splendid?

Sitting in Mass today, with my head tucked within my palms, I thought about reading. Not the act of reading or the desire to, I thought of how it affects the human psyche. In my head I carefully slid out a giant, white canvas and looked upon it. Then I recalled all the novels I had read in the past. Of course I couldn’t think of them all, but as the titles appeared, I painted the vividness of the scenes I could remember from each novel. I thought of the multitude of stars Mr. Wind-Up Bird saw from the bottom of a well. I thought of the lovers entwined in each other’s arms in the darkness of a park in Dublin. I recalled a rotting, green corpse sitting on the back of a wagon driven by the Bundren family towards New Hope. I thought of the dancing skeletons of lightning gazed upon by Gabriel Oak and Bathsheba and the silk worm eggs within a precious tin box, held in the arms of Desdemona.

As these fierce and beautiful images filled and painted the canvas, I could feel my eyeballs dart back and forth behind the closed curtains of my eyelids. My mind, flooded by wondrous lands and smells and the sounds of familiar voices, head feeling lighter and my eyes fluttered open.

The sun had broken through the clouds and shone through the grand stained glass windows of the church onto the praying people in pews. Reciting words memorized from years of attendance. Robotic speech and movement. I let my eyes adjust to the light and I took a deep breath. I looked down at my hands because that’s what I do when I am unsure of my own existence.

Looking back at this whole trip, I can say that I do not want what society has crafted for us. I not only do not want to fit into the mold of having to live life to attain financial and family related securities, but I know I can’t fit into it. I want my life to be a one-way ticket. I want to jump into things, like I did in the Philippines. I scuba dived, climbed a mountain and learned how to drive a motorcycle all in one day. My legs are riddled with mosquito bites and I have sunburn! I’ve tried fried intestine and chico and dragon fruit. I’ve eaten on a floating house. I watched the sunrise from the ocean and set back into the ocean. I have met the nicest and most homeliest people. You see, I don’t want to fit into any mold. I just want to live. I want to feel things. See and hear everything. It’s not impossible for me, oh no. All I require of my life is a roof over my head, food to eat and a mode of transportation. All else will blossom in time.

I have decided that I will post three pictures per blog post.