a fresh (re)start

Walk to the Ocean by Sassified (deviantart.com)

Baby steps I take

Finding my footing again

Joy out of struggle

National Human Trafficking Awareness Day

Little Weapon II by TJink

I killed another man today,
Shot him in his back as he ran away,
Then I blew up his hut with a hand grenade,
Cut his wife’s throat as she put her hands to pray
Just five more dogs then we can get a soccer ball,
That’s what my commander say
How old? Well im like 10, 11
Been fightin’ since I was like 6, or 7

____ or bust

“U2 or bust.” Saw that on more than a few cars yesterday en route to one of the most memorable concert experiences ever. Couple that with watching another one of my favorite artists for the second time and that makes October a great month of music. Thinking it over, I realize I’ve had the pleasure of seeing many of my favorite musicians in concert, but I still have a ways to go to complete my list of who I must check out. My top five that I have yet to see, in no particular order…

Jamie Cullum

Raul Midón

Rodrigo y Gabriela

The Roots

Dilated Peoples (yes, I saw them when they hit up UCSD’s Fallfest, but I’m hungry for a full set).

digital relics

digital - manip by ~larkie (deviantart.com)

About a month ago, in the process of searching for something, I ended up uncovering all of the boxes in my closet and sifted through some old items. Tonight, I went through forgotten folders on my computer, old blogs, and pictures/videos I’ve uploaded. It just dawned on me that in both cases, I actually did the same thing. It’s not always as obvious to the one living through an era that what one is experiencing is worth appreciating since one is submersed rather than viewing from the outside (a fish doesn’t think twice about breathing underwater while we, humans, wonder at the miracle of gills). The era we’re living through is the transition from material to digital, or maybe we should just call it abstract. We don’t stuff shoeboxes anymore, we fill hard drives. We don’t write in journals, we post entries on blogs. We don’t make scrapbooks, we create slideshows. We don’t have “little black books,” we have slick, shiny, smartphones. Even Post-Its are digitally “stuck.” This is not to say the former material means are now obsolete. They simply are no longer valued for their practical worth, but for the decreasingly common pleasure experienced in getting messy with our hands. Ironically, there is now a certain novelty to doing things the old-fashioned way. I think what this says about us is that we aren’t quite ready as a population to move head on into this new world where property no longer contains the idea of something physically owned. Will we ever be ready? I’m not sure. I, for one, have a hard time letting go of physical reminders of moments in my life. But ready or not, it seems we’re destined to eventually reach a point on the human timeline where historians no longer dust off artifacts, but instead examine digital relics as they plug in portable hard drives that use outdated USB technology and browse websites whose URLs have been long forgotten.

brain is down for maintenance. will be back shortly.

G.O.A.T.

It’s time for this year’s Basketball Hall of Fame inductions and let me first say, congratulations to David Robinson and John Stockton. The Admiral will always be among my list of favorite players, both for his talent and overall character, and Stockton will always be among the greatest point guards to ever play, though there is much reason to believe the general public will never recognize that. But, come on… we all know whose party it really is. Nothing against the other guys; it’s just not fair when you’re inducted into the hall the same year as the man who Larry Bird called God in disguise.

I can’t remember exactly when basketball became such a huge love of mine; I only remember that Michael Jordan was the one who led me to it. As a little boy, at least once a week, my outfit consisted of a Bulls hat, a Jordan shirt, and a Jordan jersey. And of course, you can’t forget the shoes. Everyday I went to the playground after school and I would imitate every move I had seen him do. I watched every MJ video and read every MJ book that I could get my hands on. I can honestly say Jordan was my first true obsession in life and til this day, there’s no one I’d rather be like on the basketball court. Though I sadly never got a chance to see him play live, I can recall many a significant Jordan moment I was able to witness on TV as it happened and as MJ finally checks off the last item on his career to-do list, here are just a few of those moments, my humble tribute to the greatest to ever lace’em up.

The earliest MJ moment I can really remember watching. I was only 5, but from that day on, I would always be practicing switching hands in the air. And yes, I saw Roy’s and of course we all saw Kobe’s from the Finals. They were nice, but they really don’t compare.

Game 4, ‘93 Finals. MJ lights up the Suns for 55, including the dagger and1 to put the game away. Suns’ coach Paul Westphal points out, “I don’t think MJ could guard MJ.”

When Jordan came out of retirement (the first time), many wondered, including myself, if he could really get back to the level he was before, let alone do it midway through the season. 55 at MSG was enough to shut all of us up.

The ‘95-’96 season is probably the most significant NBA season I have been able to live through. Jordan’s first full year back out of retirement. Bulls went 72-10 in the regular season, 15-3 in the playoffs for a combined 87-13 (By the way, this is also the year Magic came briefly out of retirement and the Grizzlies and Raptors made their debuts as teams). To top it all off, the Bulls clinched the championship on Father’s Day, and what proceeded to unfold afterwards showed me that MJ really was human after all.

‘97 conference semifinals, Bulls meet the Hawks. I don’t remember much about the series (the Bulls took care of business, winning four games to one), but I do remember Dikembe Mutombo bragging about how he had never been dunked on by Jordan. Of course, Jordan kindly responds, with finger wag and all (jump to about 1 min 12 sec to see the dunk).

March 8, 1998. Jordan is on the road, taking his last national tour (as a Bull) and makes what is supposed to be his final visit to New York. In pure Jordan fashion, he dusts off an original pair of his red, black, and white Air Jordans from his rookie season which by then are a full size too small for his feet. He doesn’t just go vintage with the shoes, though, as he busts out amazing move after amazing move en route to 42 points.

There are so many more moments that can be put up here but I would just be going on and on and on. I think it would be most fitting to wrap it all up with a brief comment about his time on the Wizards. I don’t think it’s argued by anyone that the smart move for Jordan’s career would have been to not come back with the Wizards. I, as I’m sure many others, often think about the truly untouchable status Jordan’s legacy could have had if it just ended with that final shot in ‘98. But it didn’t, and all what-ifs considered, my respect for Jordan hasn’t dropped one bit due to his last comeback, and that’s because you can’t blame someone for coming back to what they love. Yes, he was noticeably a step behind everyone (translation: he scored 40 or 50 only every once in awhile as opposed to about every week), but you could clearly see his passion for the game was still there. More than any of his dunks, his unbelievable circus shots, or his buzzer beaters, his passion to compete and be the best out there is what has most affected my own relationship with the game of basketball and life as a whole. If you’re going to do something, do it all the way, and that is exactly what MJ did from first game to last. That kind of passion mixed with his talent and charisma is something that you’re lucky to see come together once in a lifetime, which is why Jordan will forever be the Greatest Of All Time.

some thoughts on inglourious basterds

Spoilers ahead. You have been warned.

As a long-time fan of Quentin who has slowly been losing faith in him, the build up towards watching Inglourious Basterds for me was filled much anticipation but also many questions. From the trailers I had seen, it seemed like the film was on track to be nothing more than an off-beat, gore-filled action-comedy that was going to irk QT’s usual critics and entertain his usual fans. In other words, a somewhat satisfying experience for someone like myself, but nothing extraordinary, which left me wondering if this would really be worth my time. Also, it was hard for me to imagine the type of contemporary pop-culture infused dialogue that has come to be expected out of QT to translate well into a World War II setting. These considerations and more made this project seem a little odd in relation to QT’s past works and I wasn’t really sure what to expect.

Well, after one trip to the theater and a couple days to chew on it, I am a believer again in QT and his film-making ability. Maybe it’s been my long-term hiatus from really watching anything of QT’s (last time I indulged was watching Kill Bill when it was new on DVD; skipped out on Death Proof) but it’s gotten to the point that I want to re-watch the film right away, as well as re-watch all of his old stuff to really determine if IB is truly his masterpiece, an idea which he playfully hints at with the last line of the movie. Though I still believe Pulp Fiction will remain for me the most memorable of his works, IB is definitely challenging for space on that shelf (which is why I am compelled to watch both again). Far from being just a shallowly entertaining and violent romp, IB is a thoughtful and beautifully shot war film intertwined with enough over-the-top and exaggerated elements to keep you laughing and engaged without going into the realm of being juvenile. Of course, I use the term “war film” loosely because it is more of an alternative WWII fantasy than it is an attempt to realistically portray the war. But I think one thing “real” war films can take note of from IB is how it makes the viewer confront his or her assumptions about violence. In the climatic sequence in the film, we see the Nazis trapped in a burning theater while being gunned down by two of the Basterds, who are wearing frighteningly sadistic facial expressions, with Shosanna’s crazed laughter providing the background noise. While it’s supposed to be the case that the Nazis are villains in this story, I found myself intensely uncomfortable watching them murdered so mercilessly even though they “deserved” such treatment. What’s most interesting about this scene is not the framing of the protagonists as psychopathic killers and the Nazis as victims, but the preceding context of the scene where we see the Nazis thoroughly enjoying a war propaganda film in which a lone German sniper is gunning down Allied soldiers one by one. While the Nazis hoot and holler during their film, we who are watching IB grow easily disgusted at the Nazis, but when their own demise begins on-screen for us, we take great pleasure in seeing justice served. It is only after QT takes this parallelism to the extreme that we realize with horror (or at least I did) that the pleasure I had initially experienced in watching the Nazis crumble was no more moral or right than the Nazis’ pleasure in seeing their cause uplifted at the expense of their enemies. Violence, regardless of its motives or intentions, is always messy and problematic.

There is definitely much more that can be talked about, including the interesting fact that the Nazis are very deeply human in this film, which made me question whether I would have taken the high road we so easily see now if I had been a German growing up in the the WWII era. But I will let the analysis and examination stop here and instead just enjoy the fact IB has reignited my love for films in general again.

P.S. I did also watch District 9 this weekend, and I realize it’s a bit unfair for me to have watched it the same weekend as IB because I’m so much more predisposed to give my attention and praise to IB. With that said, District 9 was technically and visually awesome with great action, but I thought as a whole, it was a movie that started off with great potential and failed to meet that potential by its end. I fell victim to the hype.

fire flashback

Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times / August 29, 2009

Looking towards the Angeles National Forest, you wouldn’t be crazy to think it looked like a battlefield, and honestly, that’s not too far from the truth. With over 42,000 acres burned, 18 homes destroyed, and two firefighters lost, the effort to put out the Station Fire has become nothing short of war, with several more battles ranging along other fronts. Seeing the LA area ablaze brings back vivid memories of the 2007 San Diego fires, and I thought it’d be fitting to share a reflection I wrote on those fires at the time.  Hopefully some truths resonate for the situation now.

Something about fire has always captured my attention.  I can sit by a campfire all alone watching it all night and be completely satisfied.  Fire seems to have this essence that stops people in their tracks and forces them to look… to gaze as the flames seductively curl and dance up and around.  That side of fire is beautiful.

But it also has a terrible side.  Fire does not only breathe light and life, but it can bring darkness and destruction, black clouds of smoke announcing the coming of a march that walks to the rhythm of crackles and chars.  While I sit here in La Jolla, evacuation mandates seem to be spiraling towards this point as if the fire realized its center goal was to reach “the jewel.”  So many people, with the list of personal friends, family and associations growing more and more, have directly felt the impact of these wildfires.  As the flames literally loom in the background, I can’t help but be gripped by an anxiety that makes me wonder how big and consuming this is all going to become.

It’s funny, though, that in cities where the fire did not just loom any longer but actually rolled through, reports have been saying people pause from what they’re doing to look at the fire.  In a moment that demands panic and franticness, the response has been slow, undivided fixation.  The beautiful and awe-inspiring spirit of fire remains intact even as it goes about its ugliest deeds.  Both the unstoppable destructive force of the flames and its arresting essence that hypnotizes has reminded me how little we humans are in the context of all creation.  We’re but small specks in the grand scheme of nature.  We become so full of ourselves with our notions of “advancement” and “progress” and “technology,” only to find that we crumble in the midst of that which has remained unchanged in its behavior and character for ages.  With such a realization, I can only respond to God with the desperate plea, “We’re at your mercy.”  Cause where was I when he laid the earth’s foundation?  Who marked off its dimensions and stretched a measuring line across it?

And when God did those things in the beginning, he saw that all of it was good–all of it, including fire.  And when things fell to pieces with the invitation of sin, it was not just man that lost its perfect relationship with the Creator, but all of creation.  It’s from this I believe that the allure of fire is a shade of its heavenly quality, while its urge to envelop and destroy is a symptom of fire gone wrong.  And just as people will one day be redeemed so that the good and pure that God has instilled in us will be most magnified, so will mother nature.  The awe we experience today in a sunset born out of polluted skies, in waves born out of the earth’s grumblings, in flames born out of dry and parched land, is a small glimmer of the awe that will overcome us when we are with mother nature face-to-face as she was truly meant to be.

If this whole entry is any clear indication, my odd mix of feelings in response to these flames is anything but clear.  But in the midst of my convolution, I ask the one with true clarity of thought and purpose do his will, whether we understand it or not.

timeline: a snippet

• 1998: Move to Torrance, where I meet Torrance Crew and several others who largely form (and still are forming) who I am as a human being.
• 1999: On a whim, decide to take French at school, simply because I don’t want to be like “everyone else” who takes Spanish. Also because I believe it’ll attract the ladies. Oui oui.
• 1999-2003: Taking French at school helps me to appreciate the culture and births a desire to step foot in the country. No luck with the ladies, though.
• 2004: Choose UCSD as college-to-be because UCLA and Berkeley say no.
• 2005: South Africa mission trip. There I decide that I want to be a teacher.
• 2006: After long period of individual God-searching, somehow find my way into a Chinese Christian group at UCSD that in most cases, I would not have bothered stepping into. Thrown off at first, I learn to embrace (and be embraced) as family. LIFE is beautiful.
• 2006: I discover that the truth isn’t sexy. Human trafficking becomes a regular part of my vocabulary. Begin the process of turning my self-centered lens outward to the world.
• 2007: Find myself in a position I’ve never been: a visible and vocal leader of a ministry, let alone any group in general.
• 2008: Itch for France is finally scratched and decide to fly over to teach for a year.
• 2008: Judy.
• 2008: Go to France anyway. Soul-searching begins.
• 2008: Soul-searching leads me to realize my desire to help directly fight global injustice weighs heavier than my desire to teach youth.
• 2009: Abort France to begin new path towards law school.
• 2009: After several busy years at UCSD, suddenly home with all the time in the world. Decide I’ll give some time to church.
• 2009: Church gladly accepts my time, and then to my surprise, kindly asks for more. Suddenly, I’m a youth pastor.
• 8/26/2009: Sit and reflect upon the events of my life up to now to find that a different decision or action here or there would completely alter the present in which I stand. Even more amazing, the timeline continues.

All that to simply tell you that I’m now a youth pastor who’s preparing for law school. Last year, I would have never seen this coming. Today, looking back on how my life has unfolded in recent years, it makes total sense. Funny how life works that way.

Stay tuned to hear more from the newly minted Pastor Paul… or as one of my kids like to say, PP.

be unstoppable

I saw this awhile back on Jason Mraz’s blog and was meaning to re-blog it myself. It’s awesome on so many levels.

Sometimes an idea seems so crazy in your mind and well… it turns out it actually is crazy. Dance-shirtless-in-a-huge-field crazy. But isn’t it the truth that all of us as humans are actually a bit crazy at heart? Why do we kid ourselves? We make ourselves believe that the best thing in life is to ensure that what we do convinces others that we are normal, but who among us has ever truly inspired others just by blending in? It takes a little crazy, a little bit of seeing something that no one else sees, in order to inspire, to move, to innovate. Sure, maybe you’re singled out at first, but after awhile, your craziness rubs off on a few people. You take away the fear in others of indulging in their own craziness, reminding them that we’re all fools whether we dance or not, so we might as well dance. And as more people finally begin to notice you’re on to something, it becomes clear that while two’s company and three’s a crowd, four is a party! The movement grows and what was once crazy is now genius. ‘Who thought of this?’ someone will ask. Many will try to answer, but few will actually remember that one person had to lay themselves bare before the world in order show that there really was some sense behind their madness.

Don’t let the fear of being different keep you from showing everyone how you dance. You’ve got to be unstoppable.