the last day of the year.

Tradition calls for acquiring 13 round fruits / food items during New Year's Eve to bring good fortune for the incoming year. I woke up to a dozen of these today... plus one orange. How's that for an awesome alternative?

Things (I guess...) are never the same.

They get better, and sweeter as we all move along.

my little bed head.

My niece, Haley. We both sport the same 'do nowadays.

i wanted this (but not right now).

Iphone being dried out in rice after a brief stint in the washer.

The moral of the story is this: DO NOT DO YOUR LAUNDRY WHEN YOU ARE SLEEP-DEPRIVED.

P.S. My apologies to my friends who are in town and are trying to buzz me for New Year's Eve festivities. It might turn on, it might not. For now, smoke signals and telegrams will have to suffice.

USE THE FORCE.

Finished Star Wars 101 today. Yoda totally kicks butt with a light sabre! :)

May the force be with you.

our happy hangover

With my 5-a day morning slushie.

Bro's Before Ho's

Luis, Louiie and (another) Luis

@ Stoney's.

holiday havoc in full swing.

I can barely keep my eyes open to write this. I am TIRED beyond being tired. These have to wait until tomorrow morning.

thirteen cherries.

December 24th, 2008

My Christmas, I feel, is being celebrated for more than just a period of 24 hours. I had just come home from Christmas Eve's dinner service and I must say, it already felt pretty festive at work. There was plenty of homebake goodies being passed around, not to mention the swell holiday dinner they had at the lunch hall. I had herbed lamb, chinese green beans, egg rolls, pumpkin pie and fresh fruit, which is quite a mealtime splurge for my belly.

When I got home, I decided to make something for tomorrow morning's Christmas brunch with my family. I must say, I had been contemplating on baking this cake (pineapple upside down glazed with brandy) for a while now, but I couldn't quite find the right occasion to do so. I decided that tomorrow's gathering would be perfect. ~awesome~

Whilst waiting for this beauty to finish baking, I googled up the symbolism of the cherry fruit. And, as it just so happens, the cherry is a universal symbol 0f beauty and love. In ancient times, cherry branches were regarded as symbols of happiness, health, wealth and fertility - practically a chock full of positive traits, all of which we all want and need in this lifetime.

Anything that spells beauty and love is most welcome in my life.

last minute supplies

December 23rd, 2008

I have to be mindful that tomorrow is Christmas Eve. Whilst I haven't been celebrating Christmas on the date prescribed, there are people in my life who actually do. Tomorrow, all the shops close early, so I had to get a move on and pick up some indispensable items that my family needs to humbly celebrate the occasion.

Here's to a blessed Christmas to everyone, especially to those whom I love and terribly miss.

(literally) the furball.

December 22nd, 2008

Juno in sleep mode.

(As was I the whole day.)

three out of four.

December 21st, 2008

I am no better today. I expect that my flu symptoms are manifesting in their full height. I skipped my early morning Kendo class because I couldn't get out of bed. Plus, it would be very irresponsible of me to be fraternizing with people right, virulent as I am with this holiday plague. Miraculously, my sickness didn't stop me from getting out of the house and picking up a cookbook. This one's called STICKY, CHEWY, MESSY, GOOEY (desserts for the serious sweet tooth). I quietly laugh at the fact that the way I feel right now fits three out of the four descriptions in the book's title (that's ALL except for CHEWY). I guess I'll just have to take comfort in the pseudo-high I'm getting from looking at photos of these sinful sweets.

FOOD is my PLACEBO.

weak.

Today's post is the beginning of an attempted 365 (a dedicated post of one photograph a day). I was browsing through my Multiply page and my past blogs and I felt challenged to tackle on a project such as this. I thought that it would be nice to be able to chronicle little mundane details in my life that otherwise would be lost and forgotten, with hopes that one day I will find something to read back into that would educate me about ME.

Above all things, that is what I need the most right now - a little self-education. A little self-education that would somehow lead to self-preservation. A little self-preservation that would somehow lead to self-improvement. A little self-improvement that would ultimately lead me to self understanding and, above all - self realization. I want a shift in my perspective and I want to know exactly how I will get from point A to point B, and so on... It would be most interesting for me to see my dailies unfold from a reader's point of view.

I hereby put myself under my own watch.

December 20th, 2008.

This is me feeling the full fury of winter. I am experiencing a flu that's turning into a head cold and I am not at all happy with the fact that I dodged off all my to-do's for the week apart from having to show up in the kitchen. My space is a mess, my car looks like it went through a mud fest, and there is still snow around the area I live. I noticed that I've grown paler as the December cold bites down deep into my bones. I feel weak... no yoga, no sunshine, no leisurely cooking, no writing / mixing music... in short, I feel dead.

Must stay warm.

sound.advice.and.life.lessons

Over the weekend, I was drawn out of my routine and state of lull by a pressing need to go to the local music store. It was something that I haven't done in quite a bit, and while I might outwardly deny the fact that I've been starving to check out what other gear I could add to my set-up, the truth seems crystal clear: I MISS HAVING ANYTHING TO DO WITH MY BEATS, MY LYRICS AND MY LEGATOS. Originally, I planned to pick up a copy of REASON 4.0 to add to my arsenal and up the ante with more sounds and effects I could shake my stick at. But my immediate universe would have none of that high tech software learning curve mumbo-jumbo, and it's pull led me to head straight for the acoustic room.

REWIND, 1.5 years ago...

My friend, Kelly and I were sitting and trying out guitars at another acoustic room. The sound was dead silent - the room offered no resonance at all for any other sound except for my breath and the tambre of the instrument I was holding. The pleasant smell of wood emanating from all sorts of guitars, old and new, was fresh and crisp. It made me feel squeaky clean and at ease. I felt my urge to multi-task and run alongside with the rest of the world dissipate to a level where I could hardly sense it. I was glad to be there, if not for a solid purpose, but for that moment alone when I picked up a vintage Gibson acoustic and started playing the first three lines of a song that I had written. I stood still, allowing time to float freely by me. Strumming on and on, I went out of the realm of the ordinary into a beautiful dream. The sound of the instrument I was holding was the vessel that took me there to my moment of mild euphoria. It felt like being drugged without the drugs.

But alas, dreams have a price tag... in this case, the absolute silky and ethereal sound of the Gibson I was holding was available for me to take home for a whopping price of $2500, plus tax. Holy Jesus! I suddenly wished I belonged to a family of oil traders in the middle east. *sigh* REALITY BITES.

I left the acoustic room that day with tears in my eyes... not from disappointment that I wouldn't be able to take it home, but from falling in love with that guitar and its voice. It was, indeed, love at first strum. I was happy that I could be moved by something that existed- something that I could touch, hear, and for a brief hour, hold. Kelly will attest to that. I never forgot the colors of that day.

FAST FORWARD TO THE PRESENT:

Again, in an acoustic room. A year and a half later, I feel so much more tired and aged in my shoes but I managed to rev up my enthusiasm by picking up every guitar that caught my eye. A series of half empty sounds from good looking guitars with fret buzz ensued. Nothing was catching my attention. None of these dreadnoughts came close to giving me the feeling that I had with the Gibson. NONE of them satisfied the requirements of the sound that I was looking for... I picked up another guitar, an Epiphone hummingbird... sort of a replica of the Gibson that I revered. I play on it... "Hmmm... it comes close. Wait, there it is! But no...". There was something not quite right and it didn't sit well with me. Then a Frenchman asked me for help in selecting a guitar for his ten year old daughter. "Career change? I might as well work here.", I thought in the back of my head.

I went home that night and pondered about whether I should purchase the Epiphone. I badly needed a muse - a companion through this season of songwriting that I was about to undergo. I slept on the issue overnight. The next day, I went back to the store to pick her up.

But then, I met Doug -the big chunk of a man that reminded me of Rodney Dangerfield on Red Bull. Doug, that big chunk of a man, who owned the acoustic room and thinks of all the guitars therein as all his children ("Yes, I know every one of them", he quips.). He says that he does not remember me from the previous night. "Came here after 6 huh?", he asked. I nodded. I wanted to get the Epiphone, but this man confused the bejeezus out of me by throwing some other worthy guitars my way.

"Here's one with a sweeter sound."

"No two guitars are alike."

" What kind of finish are you looking for?"

"Now here's one that will give you a run for your money... see what you think of this one".

I took one look at her and immediately I heard my ego screaming that this couldn't be the guitar for me. She was humble. There was not an ounce of flair about her. She was still and confident in her own presence, and... she was right in front of me.

I picked her up and strummed an E. "Wow...", I said to myself. I started fingerpicking, and found that it was so easy (and quite pleasurable) to play on her. She sounded full, loud, clear and commanding. "It's the cedarwood", Doug says. "It makes all the difference in the world.".

I played for a good 15 minutes until I realized that I was going to be late for work. Then I told Doug to put her on special hold for me.

That night, I proceeded to sleep with a heavy question in my head. How could something as humble deliver that kind of tone? When I speak of humility, I mean this guitar was not one to turn heads or anything like that. And for under three hundred dollars? Something had to be wrong.

But there wasn't anything wrong.

The more I tried to justify why I shouldn't take this baby home and write brilliant tunes with her, the more I am faced with a side of myself that I do not want to have anything to do with. I was being shallow. I wasn't giving the warmth of the sound an opportunity to grow on me because in my head, I should be playing this fantastic looking guitar.

Then the cutting blade of realization sweeps quick across me... looks have nothing to do with talent. Image has nothing to do with the heart and the very core of what I am trying to communicate through the music that I write. My ego is something that I should attempt to kill in order to live with a little bit more integrity, truth and inspiration. I will not sell my soul and my core for a flashy gold piece. I have never been that way, and I don't want to change for the worse.

There was something that Doug said that rang in my ears. He said, "When you're trying to select your sound, you should always play looks last.". Behold! It was the antiseptic truth resonating so clearly. My music is a direct reflection of my choices, my regrets, my courage, my strengths, my adventures and misadventures, and my life as a whole.

And so, I chose my colors and I feel that I will not be regretting my decision. This humble cedarwood Takamine will join me this weekend as I start writing songs for a compilation of more stripped down songs (a little more mature, as I would say) that are a little closer to my core. I will be busy from here and now on with my glorious escapes from the real world into my world of soundscapes. And when all is done, favorably polished and good to go, I would love to name this album Winter.