My Father’s Music ©
rowancv 04/08/10- 6:35PM

I miss being my father’s child, before life got in the way.
Today, his music still plays, and I get lost in its power.
I could listen for hours, as his spirits display:

As his music penetrates the depths of my soul,

I can feel my father’s sadness.
I can feel my father’s anguish.
I can feel my father’s despair.

I can feel my father’s tears.

I can feel my father’s focus.
I can feel my father’s drive.
I can feel my father’s strength.

I can feel my father’s sweat.

I can feel my father’s happiness.
I can feel my father’s peace.
I can feel my father’s escape.

I can feel my father’s smile.

It’s in this place I let the music tell him, that I love him.

Today, his music still plays, harmonizing with my own.
I’m grown now, but it’s the best of my father’s music
That I’ll always remember, and use to carry me home.

I used to call myself a "never-die" Spurs fan, because "die-hard" just wasn't enough to describe the passion I had for my team. But there's the problem right there- "my" team? Yeah right, you and a billion other people. I'm not gonna describe right now why I became a Spurs fan, which has everything to do with a man named David Robinson, but I am going to describe why I no longer am one. Sports stars and sports itself: I'm finally, finally starting to see how overrated they are. Not just overrated, but crazy (!). What do you call it when you invest years of your life and hard-earned money for "your team," only to be snubbed and treated like crap when you finally get a chance to meet them? You know, maybe it's just the type of person I am, but that's called INSANITY right there. I've been a fan for TWENTY years- watching games, reading every article I could find, and taking part in online forums. I've spent so much money on basketball cards, Spurs clothing, basketball games, and a PS3 just so I could play NBA Live. Insanity. I'm from NJ, and I don't have money, so I don't get many opportunities to see the San Antonio Spurs, and when they do come through to my state, it all depends on if I even have the money and time to make it to the game. Last night, March 29, 2010, I saw the Spurs play live for only the second time in twenty years. I can't even tell you how excited I was for this game and how much I was looking forward to it. I did what I was supposed to do- asked my friends for tips, got there early, waited patiently, spoke loud and clear. They told me Manu Ginobili and George Hill? They're the nicest guys- yeah they'll take a picture with you! If any of the Spurs, it would be them. But it's also my fault. I read about these guys, and their humility and all the great things they've done and how much character they have, and I put them on a pedestal that I never should have put them on. So George Hill is right there in front of me- literally right in front of my face, and I ask him for a picture. "Nah, I'm just signing," and he doesn't crack a smile. I try to get into better position to show him that it'll only take a second, show him that my boy is ready to shoot the picture, but he just looks at me like I'm weird and moves right on. Mark tried to take the picture anyways, which was an epic fail, because of this player who I've believed in ever since his rookie year, a player I always stood up for during his rookie season when people were downing him, and a player who I had truly enjoyed watching. Not anymore. After the game, which incidentally, the Spurs lost (to the worst team in the NBA, go figure), Mark and I waited in this area where the Spurs players go to meet up with "special" fans, family, and friends. The reason we went to that area was because we spotted Manu and decided we'd try to wait for him. After waiting for him, for quite some time, to finish talking to these three people, he disappeared and we didn't even see him slip out. We saw Tim Duncan come out, but security only called certain fans (maybe friends?) to come down and talk to him and take pictures. I waived at him but he didn't waive back. He talked to those people and then left too. DeJuan Blair, along with George Hill, is another rookie I've supported from the very beginning. At first he didn't even wanna take a picture with me: "Nah, I ain't takin' no pictures." But at the end, he took a group pic with all the people that wanted one- "all at once ya'll." I did appreciate that I guess, and I did get a picture with Roger Mason, Jr. and Keith Bogans though, both of whom were very chill and not big-headed at all. Much respect to those dudes. Matt Bonner came up and talked to someone but left afterwards. Richard Jefferson snuck in from the other side and went to talk to these women along with Keith Bogans a few rows behind us. I didn't even try for a picture with him. All I wanted last night was to take pictures with my favorite Spurs players. The added intensity of all my life's trials, both recently, and trials I've had to endure for years, makes me feel even angrier. What's it gotta take for you to spread some sunshine into somebody's life? The answer?: not much! You can't spare a couple seconds of your high-rolling life? Spare a couple of stupid seconds for all the years I've followed you and supported you? "Gotta look at it from their point of view too though," Mark told me. He's right, absolutely, but at the end of the day, I'm not them. I'm the fan. The one who'd never give up on them no matter what. When other Spurs fans talked crap and lost faith, I never did. I'm the one who didn't come to the game to get autographs and then sell them on eBay. "Larger than life"- are you kidding me? You're human just like I am, except when you lose you still wake up a millionaire. Meanwhile, I'm the stupid fan that invests HOURS that I don't have of my life rooting for you to win, with every game I could possibly set my eyes on, only to be snubbed when I finally get a chance to meet you. We, the fans, are the ones that cheer you on. You are nothing without us, so why not make us at least feel respected. The fans deserve BETTER (!), yes, I said it. I'm not just a number, I'm a person, as cliche as that sounds, and if you aren't gonna treat me that way, then you don't need my support. FORGET feeling disregarded and rejected, FORGET scrambling and practically begging for a picture, FORGET security making you feel like you gotta watch your back when you're at the railing, and FORGET putting forth time, energy, and money for people that don't really care about you. I'm actually very thankful for last night, because my eyes have finally been opened. I should have experienced this years ago, the first time I went to see the Spurs play. Nonetheless, from now on, with this getting cut out of my life, I'll be saving so much of that time, energy, and money that I've been literally wasting, and I can invest it on people and things that matter so much more. I am that much more focused. I also finally have what it takes to sell my PS3, and more importantly, sell basketball cards that I've been having a hard time letting go of. No more of this insanity in my life. I realize it's not just the Spurs, and that last night was just a means for the Lord to get me to see how much sports in general has negatively affected my life. So once again, for this, I am very thankful. I'm no longer "Ro, the hardcore Spurs fan." If they win, they win, if they lose, they lose. I'm not wasting anymore of my life. Better last night than years from now and thousands more dollars later. Everything happens for a reason, and I am thankful I was snubbed. More than anything else, this is not a knock on the sports world itself, but a knock on fans like me who make it more than it ought to be.

THAT being said (and you can tell I really needed to vent that out), I had a CRAZY FUN time with my brother Mark at the game!!! I'm really glad I was there with him and I can't even tell you how much love I have for this kid and how much I care for him, and believe in him! Here's a few sights and sounds:

After George Hill snubbed me, I settled for a few autographs. I'm not a big "in-person" (IP) autograph guy, since I already collect- well, used to collect- basketball cards that already had certified (authenticated) autographs on them, but I decided to just get these for the sake of having something to remember the night. I could have gotten more (Antonio McDyess, DeJuan Blair, Richard Jefferson, Ian Mahinmi, Roger Mason, Jr.- all guys I was able to see up close), but I kinda lost interest and didn't try very hard. A funny moment that gave me a good laugh was when a guy tried to get Tony Parker to sign a Nets cap, and Tony was like, "Hold up, lemme see that... maaann, I ain't signin' no Nets hat!" LOL, of course he said it with a smile, but he didn't sign it. Despite my new sentiments towards sports and the Spurs, I still like Manu and Tony (and always David Robinson!).

My boy Mark and me! Thanks again for coming to the game and whiling out with me, for taking the pictures, and for even grappling down security guards (okay, not exactly) in a last ditch effort to get me that picture with Manu. You knew the past few weeks have been especially difficult for me, and I appreciate you always cheerin' me up and encouraging me. Love you bro.

There was a couple who left the game early and gave their "all access" passes to another couple sitting directly in front of us. We had some small talk with them earlier (not much) and it totally took us by surprise when, in the 3rd quarter, they turned around and said, "You guys wanna grab something to eat?? Just take these passes and go down that tunnel- you can get as much food and as many drinks as you want." Maybe they heard us talking about how we couldn't wait to tear up the lasagna Mrs. Graham and Vicki were cookin' when we got back home, but no, I'm only kidding, they were genuinely very nice people. Mark and I made sure they knew how much we appreciated the super kind gesture, and we went straight for the tunnel! We were both feenin' for a hot dog but neither one of us had any money, lol. Turns out, we got all the hot dogs we could eat (I had 2), some steamed vegetables, and free drinks! We were thankin' God for sure for looking out for us. It was awesome:

The R.E.S.E.T. point up, givin' it up for JESUS!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VtRuC0oRTJQ

I got George Hill's autograph too on my ticket (a few moments after he dissed me), but I gave it to Mark. Glad it worked out that way because I really don't care for it anymore, and Mark has something to remember the day by too. By the way, Mark's gonna make it ya'll. He's a BALLER, and you heard it here first! I truly believe in you brother. And I know you'll stay level-headed, humble, and real.

We were buggin' about our VIP parking (actually, it was just "reserved" since I bought the parking ticket in advance online, but again, VIP sounds better, LOL) being in Level 1, Row N (ROW-EN, ROW-AN!).

Time to get back on the grind. I'm gonna study hard today.

I understand cutters, burners, people who turn to self-mutilation for escape. Again, I don't think I could do this, but I think I understand them. On Friday, once more I was undergoing such a deep and heavy depression. I decided to eat before Cafe Urbana, since I hadn't eaten anything but cereal all day. I burned my tongue and the roof of my mouth with the sweet and sour chicken I bought. As I drove back to Jersey City, the pain increased, and I even had to remove burned pieces that were peeling off inside my mouth. And as I was doing that, while driving, I realized that I was so focused on this pain, that my chest wasn't heavy anymore. My heart wasn't in as much pain. And I said, "So that's why they do it." I used to think it was crazy, but I don't anymore.

I've also flirted with taking anti-anxiety or anti-depression drugs. Narcotics. The way my friend described it the other night at the diner- how and how much it helps him- was very tempting. I could use a drug that will take that heaviness in my chest away and make me feel all right and calm again. I could use that, but there are risks of addiction and dependence, and I'm already the type to not want drugs in my body. The type to stay away from them as much as possible. I'm not saying it's wrong- heck, I may even need them, medically speaking (I'm pretty sure I do actually). But I'm trying to resist.

R.E.S.E.T. @ Cafe Urbana

---

Remember....

"Don't get stuck focusing on the situation but truly realize that God is bigger than THIS. He will carry you out of it. He will. hold tightly to it... But being stuck in depression or in a state where my focus is in myself, is sooooo soooo destructive. I know how it is brother. I know how it feels, to bang on the wall, screaming for healing, singing songs of deliverance and feeling.....nothing....silence...But God will appear. Cry out. The holy spirt grieves for you at this time brother. Do not quench the spirit in self pity, brother. Believe in the power. Take a step back and breathe. Read Job. At the end of the chapter, God basically says I AM GOD. I created everything. Lean on me." -Dave W.

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God." ~Philippians 4:6... when God removes something from your grasp, it is so that your hands can be free to receive something better. don't lose heart." -unnieeee

"I pray that you do feel the presence of our Dad in Heaven and that He gives you peace... I know that this might not be comforting. I pray that it is. But Romans 8:28 is true. "All things work for the good of those who love the Lord and are called according to his purpose." You love the Lord. You are called to His purpose. He will glorify this brother. I know when I hurt, I cry out to God because I can't see how he will work it out for good. In fact, I don't even see any good at all in those times. The Lord is faithful, and I have never seen Him fail." -Ethan

"Though you know God is all-powerful - your situation looks so hopeless, that you start doubting whether or not God can really deliver you out of such a dire, extreme and hopeless situation. You are so overwhelmed by the hopelessness of the situation - that you start forgetting how powerful God really is and that He does have the power to be able to fully heal you - no matter how grave the situation may appear. Just know that, "The things which are impossible with men are possible with God." (Luke 18:27)" -Lisa

"'As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts than your thoughts' (Isaiah 55:9). Every person has things they're believing for, situations they want to see changed, and dreams God has placed in their hearts. But sometimes, we try to figure out how it's all going to happen. If we're not careful, we'll put God in a box and try to tell Him how to do it, when to do it, and where to do it. Today's scripture tells us that God's ways are not our ways. They are higher and better than our ways. If you don't get your way, if things don't happen on your timetable, instead of getting discouraged, why don't you believe that God has something better in store? Just because it doesn't happen your way doesn't mean it's not going to happen. Remember, God has a plan. He's got it all figured out. Don't limit Him by trying to get it done your way. Instead, simply say, 'God, I'm trusting You. I know You have my best interest at heart. And even if I don't get my way, I'm going to stay open and believe that You're still directing my steps into the abundant life You have for me.' A PRAYER FOR you & me, Ro: Heavenly Father, I choose to trust You. I cast my cares on You. I give You my plans, dreams, and desires for the future. Thank You for working behind the scenes on my behalf. Give me Your peace as I wait patiently to see Your plan unfold. In Jesus' Name. Amen." -Wing Yee

"Ask the Lord to give you His peace and the ability to concentrate on His plans for your life and just trust in Him. We will join with you in prayer and know that the Lord will give you the desires of your heart as you submit to Him. We love you, hang in there with your head held high. You are a child of the King of Kings and Lord of Lords." -Pastor Ed

"Bury yourself in Psalm 31 and Psalm 42 right now..." -Pastor Cortner

Thank you Darrvi for diner time when I need it most, and thank you Sam for the much needed talk- God's angel.

Thank you everyone, both mentioned and unmentioned, for your words of encouragement and wisdom, and your continual prayers. They aren't in vain. I love you.

Apparently I am not the only one who flirts with or thinks about death. After thinking about it all day, I came to a realization: people like me desire death because we really don't trust that God can work things out. Because we've lost hope in God. Or, we do trust God, but we are impatient, and we desire an easy out from the suffering and heartache we are going through.

I understand how some people are driven by their parents to commit suicide. I think of stories like Romeo and Juliet, or West Side Story. And I fantasize.. what if I did it. What if I killed myself. Would my parents feel sorry, would they realize what they have been doing to me? Or will they continue to blame me 'til the end? Will Alana realize how much she did know me, or how much she didn't know me? So selfish it would be, right?

What if Alana and I decided to kill ourselves. What if we came to my parents with a gun, not to kill them, but to kill ourselves, in front of them. What.. you don't think it's that serious? People in our situation DO kill. They commit suicide. They murder. Psyches break. Chalk it up to a troubled teen or individual from a broken home. Right.

Don't worry, the truth is, I wouldn't have the guts to kill myself, and I wouldn't be able to find enough selfishness in me to do that. The truth is, I would never be okay with Lana killing herself, with or without me. I want us to live a full life, despite the heartaches and the madness. I want us to be able to find happiness. I want us to be able to find peace. All this is only possible through God.

So I'm done thinking about death. And I pray for strength, for Alana, for my parents, and for me. I shudder at the thought that this situation could be any more tragic than it already is. Until God says when...

maybe i just want everything to end. i never thought i'd get to that point again. since 2004. maybe i should finally be selfish, just once.

(this is not a cry for help. i actually don't need anybody commenting on this. this is the part of xanga where i write for myself)

It's kinda crazy what being in an empty home can do to you. Sometimes, when everybody is at home, I just wanna get away from them, because of certain situations, discomfort, because it might be too loud, or for whatever other reason. Then one day you come home and for once, the house is empty, nobody is home. It gets dark, and it's just so lonely, so you turn on the light. The light illuminates the kitchen or the living room, and everything is messy, yet everything brings you a feeling, or a memory. I might see my dad's sweater thrown over a chair, and I'll think of my dad, and remember that he's out working- working hard and slaving away for the family he loves, and then I'll feel bad, and sad, for being a thorn on his side (even if I don't mean to be). My love and respect for him is so great. Or I'll see my mom's messy paperwork sprawled all over the kitchen table, and I'll remember that she too is working like mad to provide extra income to sustain my family during these hard times. And of course, I'll likewise feel pain in my heart because of the suffering I know she is going through, because of me. My love and passion for my mom is so great. I might see my brothers' gypsy jazz guitars, and for all the times I'd wish they'd just stop playing for once so I can have quiet, I would at that moment wish that they were at home with me too, just jamming and playing. I look around me and I'm filled with so much love for my family, and not that I don't recognize it otherwise, but it just becomes so much heavier and much more felt. It saturates deep within me. As I look around in the silence, all the years and memories fly before me: all the suffering we had all endured together- all the hits we took. But also the amazing and fun times. The times my mom cooked huge meals for a celebration, and we'd make fun of her for always wanting to take pictures, because we didn't really appreciate how she was trying to preserve those moments. The times my dad would tell us not to come into the living room on Christmas morning 'coz he was still wrapping our presents, or when my dad would just play his guitar and sing out Beatles songs. When my brothers and I would play Fusion Frenzy on x-box or pretending to sleep with our friends so their parents would allow them to sleep over and then we'd bust out with the "midnight snack" and all talk 'til 4 in the morning. The difficult and heartbreaking times: seeing my mom cry in her depression, finding her asleep clutching onto her Bible. Waking up at 5 or 6 in the morning to go to the bathroom and seeing my dad by himself in deep thought and despair. The hard places I have put my brothers in, and the suffering they go through on my account. Floods of memories, thoughts, and feelings overcome me. And I try to hold back the tears, alone in our home, but I get to the point where I can't, so I run to my room and close the door, because if anyone comes home, I don't want them to see me crying, or know that I was. I cry uncontrollably, and ask God why my family has to suffer, or haven't we suffered enough? Why are these heartaches necessary? Why can't we find peace and happiness? I try to think of who I can turn to, but there's nobody. I just want a place to cry, a person to cry with. I'm alone, and I wrestle with God. This is hard. It's the desperate, painful kind of crying, the one where you're gasping for air, and you let out long moans 'coz you just got to let something out, anything. The way I've seen my mom cry too many times. At those moments when my heart is breaking, I feel as though I can't take this or I can't bear it, like I'm literally going to go crazy. I pace, I turn to the left and the right, I place my arms and forehead against the wall and yelp. I realize how broken I am. And because I don't know what else to do, I type a new status on my facebook: "how do i heal...." Heal from knowing that I am the reason my parents are severely broken as well. Heal from knowing that I have failed at every desire they ever had of me- being a great piano player and musician, getting good grades, becoming a doctor, waiting until I had a career before marriage, being able to help out my family financially before marriage, marrying a pretty Filipino or light skinned woman, and agreeing with and doing everything they would want of me. The perfect child. How do I heal from being a failure in the eyes of the people I love the most in this world? How do I heal from being seen as a traitor, being seen as unappreciative, selfish, stubborn, proud, stupid, and naive, when all I ever wanted was for them to know that I love them, as imperfect as I am, as many mistakes as I have made. I love them and that love will reverberate throughout eternity. How do I heal from being so misunderstood by them. Heal from feeling unforgiven. Heal from actually really understanding them, and not entirely blaming then, and just knowing that they have been victims in their own right as well. How do I heal from being so helpless. How do I heal from not being able to save them the way I want to save them. Heal from the lifetime of agony and regret they have lived, and heal from knowing that they are desperately trying to actually have that generational vision- that they'd give their lives to accomplish what they believe would be the best for me. How do I heal from feeling like this is all terribly unfair. From wanting to feel a different kind of love that is not tough love, from not just anyone but only from them, my parents. How do I heal from the harsh, hurtful words and actions. The faces I may have to wear, the facades I may have to put up. The fake strength I'll have to muster. How do I heal from such a divided and damaged relationship with my precious mother and father. How do you heal from being so helpless... I opened the door to my room and looked out the hall. One more time, a flood into my spirit. I wipe away the tears and I walk back into the living room. God. God is still here. God loves my family. He knows what He's doing. Can I believe that? I have to believe that. He's all I've got. My life source hinges on God. If I can't trust Him, have faith in Him, hope in Him, then there's nothing left for me or my family. They'll be home soon, with food, so I'll clear the table and make sure the rice is hot. I'll set up the place mats, the plates, forks, and spoons. I won't be home for much longer, so I hope I can be graced with always remembering that I need to cherish each day with them. Show them my love in big ways and more importantly, in little ways. However I can. I need to swallow my pride as much as possible. I need to show my love and appreciation, even if it is not received or believed, because if it's true, it's not in vain. Despite what other people might say or see, from the outside looking in, when it comes to my family, I want my love for them to be undeniable, loud, and perfect. I want that to be a major testament of my life. I can only hope and pray that God will allow them to see it one day, the people who need to see it the most, to realize it the most: my mom, my dad, and my brothers. The love I have for you all can't be described. Can't be uttered. Is unspeakable. Please feel it. Please know it. Please accept it. And so I sit down, play "The Overcomers" on the piano and try to sing it, until I hear the garage door opening downstairs....

I Could ©
rowancv 03/18/10- 2:27PM

I could break it off with my fiancée, just leave her with no explanation.
I could leave my world and disappear on an indefinite vacation.
I could turn to narcotics, anti-everything drugs, alcohol, or smoking,
I could leave my God and my faith, and turn to Lucifer for coping.

I could throw away my life and live it entirely for someone else.
I could stand for nothing, avoid everything, look out for only myself.
I could throw away my character: do wrong ‘coz I’ve been wronged.
I could embrace the bitterness and allow anger to make me “strong.”

I could.
I haven’t.
I wouldn’t.
I won’t.