Sorry I haven't kept things as up-to-date, especially the completion of the Philippines saga. This is homecoming week at our school and if you know my job, I'm completely insane. I don't even think I was that coherant at Tuesday's faculty meeting. Oh well. Just let the delirium take over.
This past weekend I was reminded just how fragile so much of the world around us is. Whether it’s actual concrete subjects, innocence, or the psyche.
Saturday began with me finally getting to sleep in. I attended a former student’s 18th birthday barbeque, yet the gift I wanted to get had yet to be published; however, she said she wanted to read the book that I gave her. When she placed her gift bag down, I didn’t tell her there was a fragile 100 islands seashell from the Philippines in it and it nearly could have been smashed. Thankfully it was a nice personal touch.
Then the day took an unusual twist for me. My brother called me and asked me to pick up a baby shower gift from Lullaby Lane. Coincidentally, the place was in San Bruno and the party was in San Bruno Park, so I’m thinking this is fortuitous and I should do it for my brother, although I didn’t realize that Lullaby Lane was the name of the store and not the street it was on. Obviously, I don’t shop for baby items very much, especially since this store seems to be one of THE places to go for your newborn needs.
Luckily I found parking in front of the store. I peer inside and realize I have no idea what to buy, and even if I did, which item would warrant being better than any other choice I could make. Again, I didn’t have to worry much since the parents-to-be filled out a baby registry. I printed out the 6 pages and just stared at the items. I had to real concept of any of the items on there except clothing; I had no clue even where to find them in the store. Most of the items were way above or below the budget I was given. Did I want to combine a bunch of small things or spend more and get something nice (but how would I even know if it was worth the money being spent)?
I thought about how my best friend will be giving birth in less than two months. What little I do know happens to be from one of my friend’s xanga blogs. I stood there staring around having no idea where to begin and felt so frickin’ ignorant. I have no idea what to do if I ever were to become a father—though I’m in no danger/luck of being one anytime soon (despite my mother’s vision of a dozen). Sure, I could figure out the basics, but the technology of all the baby items to keep the child free of disease or harm and the extraordinary differences between cribs and strollers just overwhelmed me. I looked so lost meandering through the three different rooms among all the expectant mothers being led by their bellies and wide-eyed husbands. I walked out of there with the gift in hand knowing that there’s a whole world that I have never truly encountered wondering if I’ll ever have the opportunity.
During the drive home I saw one of the worst car accidents I had ever seen in person. A stretch of freeway was jammed and I was wondering if it was an accident or something else. After some time spent trying to get into the left lane of four available lanes,
several emergency vehicles created a barrier from a particular section of freeway. As I finally drove by, I saw a car damaged in a way I never quite imagined possible. The silver car reminded me of an aluminum juicy fruit wrapper with the piece of gum placed inside and crumpled up loosely to be thrown into a garbage can. The back half and top of the car were missing and the front was frayed. I have no idea what happened to the driver. The accident had probably been there awhile for the ambulance had likely taken off already and I have no idea whether or not other cars were involved. And as a veteran of numerous car accidents (I’ve flipped over in a car twice, nearly dying once), I sighed a breath of relief thanking god that I’ve never been in one that serious. The picture you see to your left is of the major car accident I was in. I was sitting shotguy and in a Honda del Sol my head was already pressing against the ceiling. Thankfully, I never lost consciousness. This took place in September of 1995 and almost prevented me from graduating that semester from SFSU.
Saturday began with me finally getting to sleep in. I attended a former student’s 18th birthday barbeque, yet the gift I wanted to get had yet to be published; however, she said she wanted to read the book that I gave her. When she placed her gift bag down, I didn’t tell her there was a fragile 100 islands seashell from the Philippines in it and it nearly could have been smashed. Thankfully it was a nice personal touch.
Then the day took an unusual twist for me. My brother called me and asked me to pick up a baby shower gift from Lullaby Lane. Coincidentally, the place was in San Bruno and the party was in San Bruno Park, so I’m thinking this is fortuitous and I should do it for my brother, although I didn’t realize that Lullaby Lane was the name of the store and not the street it was on. Obviously, I don’t shop for baby items very much, especially since this store seems to be one of THE places to go for your newborn needs.
Luckily I found parking in front of the store. I peer inside and realize I have no idea what to buy, and even if I did, which item would warrant being better than any other choice I could make. Again, I didn’t have to worry much since the parents-to-be filled out a baby registry. I printed out the 6 pages and just stared at the items. I had to real concept of any of the items on there except clothing; I had no clue even where to find them in the store. Most of the items were way above or below the budget I was given. Did I want to combine a bunch of small things or spend more and get something nice (but how would I even know if it was worth the money being spent)?
I thought about how my best friend will be giving birth in less than two months. What little I do know happens to be from one of my friend’s xanga blogs. I stood there staring around having no idea where to begin and felt so frickin’ ignorant. I have no idea what to do if I ever were to become a father—though I’m in no danger/luck of being one anytime soon (despite my mother’s vision of a dozen). Sure, I could figure out the basics, but the technology of all the baby items to keep the child free of disease or harm and the extraordinary differences between cribs and strollers just overwhelmed me. I looked so lost meandering through the three different rooms among all the expectant mothers being led by their bellies and wide-eyed husbands. I walked out of there with the gift in hand knowing that there’s a whole world that I have never truly encountered wondering if I’ll ever have the opportunity.
During the drive home I saw one of the worst car accidents I had ever seen in person. A stretch of freeway was jammed and I was wondering if it was an accident or something else. After some time spent trying to get into the left lane of four available lanes,
several emergency vehicles created a barrier from a particular section of freeway. As I finally drove by, I saw a car damaged in a way I never quite imagined possible. The silver car reminded me of an aluminum juicy fruit wrapper with the piece of gum placed inside and crumpled up loosely to be thrown into a garbage can. The back half and top of the car were missing and the front was frayed. I have no idea what happened to the driver. The accident had probably been there awhile for the ambulance had likely taken off already and I have no idea whether or not other cars were involved. And as a veteran of numerous car accidents (I’ve flipped over in a car twice, nearly dying once), I sighed a breath of relief thanking god that I’ve never been in one that serious. The picture you see to your left is of the major car accident I was in. I was sitting shotguy and in a Honda del Sol my head was already pressing against the ceiling. Thankfully, I never lost consciousness. This took place in September of 1995 and almost prevented me from graduating that semester from SFSU.Most of Sunday was spent grading papers, but being the softball whore that I am again, the team captain called me and asked me to make the 8pm game and be the starting pitcher. This after the fact that I pitched last Tuesday and Wednesday, the former being a playoff game and the latter determining whether or not the team made the playoffs. My heels have been inflamed badly since Tuesday and I just have to suck it up to stand in the classroom. So pitching Sunday definitely was not a smart idea, but that’s not what I’m known for, so I played. On the other team, I faced a former student of mine, who happened to be a blanket winner and all-star high school baseball catcher. Another big hitter on their team lined one directly back up the middle targeting my chest/abdomen. By some miracle of instinctual reflexes (for I knew as soon as I pitched it that it would be coming right back at me and I eyed all the way) in less than a second, the ball shot into the webbing and palm of my glove and bruised my hand. One of my brother’s fears is that I won’t be able to protect myself in time from those heat seeking liners. This was by far the hardest shot that came back at me and I realized how tenuous my grip on life can be. All it takes is a nanosecond delay and I’m on the way to the hospital again.
When I came out of the game we had a 10-6 lead and we needed to win this game to have a chance at the playoffs. The tendonitis in my heels and arthritis in my ankles aggravated me and that would be okay, since my brother would come in to close it out—the same formula we used to come in first place a few seasons ago (which also happened to be the same time when I took a shot in the leg/varicose veins two batters into the championship game). Unfortunately, the other team had a miracle run the next two innings and score some 19+ runs on us. It killed us all on the team. What might have been a celebration to go to the playoffs turned into one of the most depressing surreal losses we ever faced during the regular season (we shall not talk about the playoff losses—which were all kind of peculiar for their own reasons).
Afterwards, the team went to BJ’s to celebrate two of our friends’ birthdays (their actual shared birthday was Monday). We did a good job of turing in 320 receipt points for the Tanforan school competition. By the way, El Camino High School is in 5th place. We are dropping out of the money. You all need to shop there and turn in your receipts in the lockers or bring them to me. Half of our Sunday team also plays in a San Mateo co-ed league. Except the winter season is on Monday and Wednesday nights. And for some odd reason, again being the softball whore that I am, I agreed to play at least half the season. I didn’t want my last taste of softball for the year to be losing 3 significant games. I needed to play again soon so that I can taste victory again. I have no idea whether or not my body can even handle playing twice a week that close to each other. It was damn difficult playing back-to-back nights last week. I tell myself I need the exercise, but sadly, I know I play in order to not always feel alone. I love competing and hanging out with the friends, but softball is that much needed excuse to get me to leave work and try to regain some semblance of myself so as not to be consumed by my career.
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