Just had fun with this: The famous tongue album cover.
Here’s my take…
Thank you for
Last night was my mom’s birthday. She turned seventy. So the three of us, her babies, had decided to celebrate it.
After work, I met with my brother at Metro Pershing Square station. We’re going to North Hollywood where he parked his car. It’s been ages since I last saw this station.
Because it’s already getting dark and the place where we’re going is opening their fridge! Yipee! We’re going to an all-you-can-eat meat!
Samba. It’s a Brazilian restaurant. It’s located in Universal Citywalk. It can be reached via the Red Line to North Hollywood. Get off at Universal City and take the tram to the Citywalk.
After a hearty dinner and tears of joy that my mom still celebrates her birthday and also tears of sadness that we were not with her. But to make it all better, we had sangria and dessert shared.
Just the three of us. Just like old times.
Last night on the way home along the I-15 freeway, as I was going around a curve, I noticed a bright light that looked like something is burning.
This is the candle glow in the bathtub this morning as my toddler who woke up early with me is fascinated with them (me lighting them up and she blowing them while she sings happy birthday – so spent a great deal of time doing that)
Anyways, where were we? Ah! Back to my story… Turns out, it was a blue Volkswagen (newest model) on fire. It was on the shoulder and I was on the passing lane, though I swear I could feel the heat all the way from where I was. A little further up on the shoulder was a white van with a lady outside standing next to it.
Isn’t she afraid it might explode as the fire reaches the gas tank? I’ve never seen a (just began) burning car. Why is she not in a hurry to stay away from it as possible? Why is she just watching?
I speed up a lil bit, just in case it might.
In retrospect to all that’s happened to me this month, despite all the traffic and lost hours wasted sitting in it, and most of all because it’s my mom’s birthday today, I listen to Led Zeppelin’s (on repeat) Whole Lotta Love, Knebworth 1979 August 11th and close my eyes, breathing in the music… going back to how my butler was feeling that time when he watched their concert and Jimmy Page doing his thing and Robert Plant
wagging his thing wearing his super, duper tight pants while girls look up at him and swoon. Hahaha!
I realize that I still have a whole lotta love to give! Along with it comes faith, hope, patience (yes please!) cos this wild thing refuses to give up. ❤️💕💕
Wish I had a doppelgänger.
Wish I could create one.
One who could pretend me even for a day – at work or on days when I’m going to be late. One co-worker who saw me last Thursday, when I was on time, remarked, “Oh you’re here! You fin’lly managed to wake up early this time?” I was insulted! How could people be so insensitive? This coming from one who knows what I’m going through??? I can’t blame them. Imagine you see someone at work who’s late everytime looking sleepy (just tired). Can’t blame ’em. Even (supposedly) friends don’t understand it anymore. I am alone in this. Along with 25,000 people who commute along the Cajon Pass everyday.
Today is definitely playing doubles on me.
First, I missed my train again today. Didn’t see any accidents (no reported ones either) but just got slow on the freeway.
Second, while I was texting my butler that I missed the train again, a train going to LA direction starts pulling in. This must be my lucky day. Train’s late today. I just might still be in time for work,I thought. Because I wasn’t expecting any late trains today even after checking first with the Metrolink service update, I thought this might be just my lucky day. So I made the mad dash for the train. Grabbing my bag quick and running out the car, I ran as fast as I could. I could feel the wind blowing on my back where my wet hair, now flying, was. I looked at the empty platforms. Nobody was waiting. Train didn’t stop. It only slowed down. Then it was off again.
I ran for nothing.
Felt humiliated for running after the train that didn’t stop. Felt stupid for driving 80mph to make it in time – in vain. Felt even more stupid thinking the train was late too.
Felt defeated as my eyes and nose start to feel hot now more than ever as I walk back to my car.
*Repeat Off* – yeah, if only…
Driving along the freeway
Seemed a breeze today.
Playing and singing song after song on my iPhone,
Sets a relaxing tone.
Then the dreaded thing happened:
The night suddenly ablaze with red taillights
Decorating the road like Christmas lights.
Uh-oh. Feels like I need to go!
Not now, I thought.
Should I drive on the side and stop?
Through the weeds I relieve?
Risk becoming a mooner?
No-no-no, not for a lady like me.
Hold on. Hold it in.
You’ll be home in a jiff.
What did I tell you about drinking after 5:00pm? Voice inside me nags.
Hands tight on the wheel.
Eyes narrowing, determined to
navigate through this mess.
Getting more and more uneasy.
Just a lil bit more! The other voice cheers.
Oh, but the fuel gauge’s only a quarter left.
You’ll have enough for tomorrow’s trip, hearing my butler’s voice.
Checking my fuel gauge every morning
as he warms the car up,
He’ll refill it, just because,
I know him. He knows me.
However, the Type A voice inside won.
Stopped at the petrol station,
Got my car’s fill.
Going around the bend…
This is it
Soon it’ll be amend.
Turned the car engine off.
This was me last night on the way home.
Happy Friday, everyone!
So today is going as usual. No traffic encountered. No sig alerts. Whew! Yesterday I was asked how I manage it all? I just shrugged and said, “One day at a time, I guess. ” I do think it may be the death of me, commuting this far that is. It may be money/time wasted for many. But for me, it means having a roof over our heads and food on the table. Clothing for me and my family. Occasionally, it means a treat to our favorite frozen yogurt place too.
Waking up before dawn, getting home late at night. Trying to accomplish things before retiring for the night can be exhausting. I thank God everyday for my ever, able body that other people could’ve easily given up. For my car that’s still going. I thank God for my spouse who’s equally ever-ready. We’re both like the Energizer bunnies. I thank God for our kids who drive us nuts and make it all worthwhile anyways with their smiles, smells and iloveyous. We made these babies – perfect babies.
From Abraham Lincoln:
We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses.
Happy Penultimate day! I just learned that word, *penultimate* yesterday at work. Did I use it right?
I may have been his imaginary friend.
He was just a year and eight months older.
He may have seen me being born but was not aware it was me.
I saw him from next-door neighbour’s second-floor window shouting my name, crying, looking for me — while I look on and giggle that he hasn’t seen and found me yet.
He was my first playmate in Boggle. He cried when he got a chess set gift instead of a guitar. But got pretty darn good at playing chess — I was always losing! He learned to ride his bike going ’round and around the garage – for a week.
I’d always pull his hairs and scratch him with my long nails but he doesn’t fight back. He’ll just tease me to death and I’ll cry and cry and pull his hairs harder!
He’s very good in dancing and was always part of a dance troupe. Once I caught him with his classmates (all boys) dancing Pearly Shell all goofy and girly.
Schoolmates and neighbours couldn’t tell us apart. I’d always be mistaken as him if I had my hair cut really short (I’d like to think of it as Demi Moore’s Ghost hair – not GI Jane’s!). Most of the time, it was done purely as a joke and for fun. I guess because we have the same smile. It’s a trademark.
Brings me Sprinkles cupcakes. He knows I haven’t tried them yet.
And texts me early in the morning (for him) today to let me know of a SIG Alert on my route.
He’s all grown up now. Still wakes up early for cartoons.
He’s Kuya, my big brother.
My brother texts me this morning (too early for him) about an accident today just as I was driving out the garage.
So I looked it up on the CHP website. Yup a sig alert. But it was on the I-15N, which was the other way.
I still went my way. Listening to the traffic on the radio, it said that traffic was BOTH ways. There was a wrong-way driver on the freeway who hit a big rig. Big rig explodes engulfing the freeway in flames. This was in Baseline – along my route.
So I decided to go on my old route when I was still parking at Fontana. Exited on Sierra Ave. and went on along Foothill Blvd until I get to the Rancho Cucamonga Metrolink. It took me about 20-25minutes more going along this route. Better this way than getting stuck on the freeway.
I still didn’t make my usual train but at least I got on the next one which is an hour later. Unlike yesterday. I missed my usual train and the next one an hour later! Then the next train was at 10:09am. So I got to work almost twelve! Sigh.
This is it.
It’s unanimous. It’s unbelievable!
This month, October, is the winner: THE MONTH WITH THE MOST NUMBER OF ACCIDENTS
Hands down. Cajon Pass surely has overtaken my life.
I am late again today.
Almost at the scene of the accident:
Just as I passed the accident scene, I was sure I was gonna make my train (actually the next one already – for I had already missed my usual train by this time).
Unfortunately, I still didn’t make the second one. I missed it by six minutes!
Oh well! I’m just thankful I’m still alive!
As I sit in the train
Trembling from the mad dash I just did.
Faster than the USS Flysenhower (from the movie, Planes, we just watched last night)
From zero to a gazillion knots
For that’s what my stomach
Felt like when I drove into the Metrolink Rancho Cucamonga train station
Seeing the train pulling in
While I furiously try to park
And remember to put my parking permit out and lock the car.
Looking into my clock, seven twenty-nine
I took a quick glance around
And hesitated for a second
Should I go or forgo?
Then I decided.
I came already from a long way,
We are finite creatures.
To not try and fight
The train doors I passed
With that, I let out a tiny yelp of success that I made it.
Yet I had to retrieve the black shoes that were caught in-between.
As I was queuing for the check-out at the grocery, I noticed this lady in front of me. Her cart full – and another one too. She’s got four kids with her, ranging from ages 2-6 years old (I’m guessing) playing with their iPhones and iPads. She’s paying now – with Food Stamps.
I got chicken and was out in no time.
Going out the grocery and into the parking lot, this lady got into her car – an ESCALADE. For someone who can’t pay her food sure can afford an Escalade? What’s wrong with the system?
Did you know that a household with at least four kids in it, with minimum DECLARED income may receive up to SEVEN HUNDRED DOLLARS A MONTH! No wonder they can afford an Escalade!
I was told of one who’s got two of them! Both parents working full-time (cash basis). They’ve got a baby-sitter. They get $700++ food stamps from the government. And two Escalades.
This was relayed to me by one of my train mates.
Something is definitely wrong.
Then there’re the Yukon drivers who drive without car insurances. Isn’t it now illegal to drive without one (insurance)?
What happened to that?
You get into an accident and no insurance. Sorry.
Or an honest businessman shipping what the customer bought, shipping it as quickly as possible. Only the recipient calls the businessman claiming he got a rock instead. Such BS. But because bound by ‘rules’ clearly made for the consumer’s pleasure, businessman absorbs this cost.
Yet here I am paying my taxes and followed the immigration system waiting for years too long to count and become what I am today.
Only to subsidise this.
I keep wishing everyday for more time
To enjoy my life more.
To cuddle with my babies. See their faces and hear their laughter for just a little while longer.
Today’s crash (another one yet again) at the Cajon Pass bypass lane,
Caused the freeway to close Momentarily for police and tow trucks to clear the way.
Didn’t realise that today my wish came true.
I missed my train.
Yet got another hour to spare
To write this poem to prove that my dream was badly misconstrued. 😦
I didn’t know my heart had a blockage — until last night.
For about two weeks now, I’ve been seeing the signs.
NO BUSES ALLOWED
As I was driving up the Cajon Pass last night, I was distracted by the huge, magnificent moon! Perhaps I was already distracted by it and the itching temptation to take a snap of it, the trucks are everywhere and seem to be more ‘aggressive’ in driving. Because one lane (rightmost) was closed as you go towards the Summit, trucks are ‘fighting’ for their lane and mine! Now my tendency was to avoid them and change lanes (to the left) which leaves me next to the ‘bypass’ lane.
This is the bypass lane as you go down the Cajon Pass:
And this is what it looks like next to the bypass lane:
Imagine it during nighttime AND countless trucks on your RIGHT and LEFT!!! The possibilities of getting into an accident – I dare not entertain. I pray and keep my eyes on the road.
I did manage to take a photo after I’ve safely passed the trucks on my right. But on the left (bypass), they just kept coming. I nearly had a heart attack.
*Albeit based on real circumstances, I didn’t mean to alarm any of you – this post was just for drama purposes*
Drive safe, though and remember this sign:
Musings on my commute:
Today I listen to The Fray’s Scars and Stories album. I gave this album a couple of years ago to my butler as I thought he’d enjoy it for he likes the band. But I think I enjoy it more 😉 I especially liked the songs, Be Still, I Can Barely Say and 48 To Go, especially on this gray overcast morning. Feels like it’s going to rain. With music like this, I feel the need for introspection!
Then there’s Fra Lippo Lippi too. I love listening to their piano-base style! I think that’s the common theme between the two groups.
For sometime now I am plagued with why I cannot ‘like’ a comment on my WP mobile app. I just don’t see an icon on where I could do it. But yesterday I finally found it. If I go to my posts section and hit preview, I could do it from there.
Will be still now and enjoy listening to my songs…
Official photo on The Fray website.
My bed gets made when I leave. I have my own limousine driver who comes and goes as he pleases — in his own time! Sometimes even leaving me behind 😦
So I take my car as my butler warms it up while making sure it’s got enough petrol and tires are inflated before I chart my course for the day.
My coffee need be made by my butler. Only he knows exactly how I like it (how strong I want it, how much sugar – topping it with my favourite flavoured creamer). Or preparing my breakfast – where I’d like to sit, which plate to use, which flatware, and which cup for my tea/coffee.
When my butler goes shopping, he knows exactly where to put them and the receipts too. He even has his own key hook.
Washing hands and using towels can get tricky – I think my butler is colour-blind. What about the tools and supplies my butler uses? Oh, he knows where they should be and where to put them back but his memory’s failing him too often. Clothes get washed though a refresher course on Folding 101 would smooth things better.
He’s very good, though, with looking after the Little Prince and the Devious Princess. He gives in to their every whim and desires of heart. I’m afraid I may have passed on my bigger share of genes. I do admire him with his gentle ways of upbringing. He’s got his own business to attend to but their needs are always before his.
He takes out the dust bin and leaves them there for he’s afraid some neighbour would park their automobile in our front garden — he’s very territorial.
Oh, and when I take a peek at those rare times he lets his hair down – the music he makes and plays would make one wish hard he’s your butler too.
Lucky me, he’s MY butler. He’s got a wide propensity to patience and an even wider proclivity for learning. You won’t get his knickers in a twist! He’s an Englishman, after all.
Because, living in a castle is not easy. Living with a Queen is harder. Everything needs to be perfect, in order.
You’ve seen me.
With hair wet – no time to blow dry it. I wear jeans and a shirt, sometimes a blouse and
always carrying a cardigan or jacket. You’d possibly even recognise me with my yellow coat on. Sometimes with sneakers or boots, rarely on heels. For I have to run. Catch the train that runs, most of the time, on time.
See me sleep. See me with a blank look on my face looking outside the train window. See me anxious when the train is delayed. Hear me scream when a cockroach sits next to me. See me annoyed when someone plays their music out too loud – in the quiet car. See me panting when I just got into the train. See me sweat. See me queue in line for the only working bathroom in a six-car train! See me get squished in a jam-packed, super delayed train. Perhaps you were with me then too.
See me with white earphones on, listening to perhaps music, or watching a movie on Netflix, or typing away on my phone or maybe reading a book or magazine or a blog or perhaps sleeping. Possibly even seen people tap me on the shoulders letting me know we’ve arrived at our destination – Los Angeles Union Station. You’ve most probably seen me get on and off at different stations as well — in Fontana, Rancho Cucamonga, or even Montclair, or worse Rialto. See me get in the Express, 5:45PM train or even the 9:30PM train.
You’ve laughed seeing me with short hair, long hair, curly hair, fizzy hair, slim, fat — even pregnant! At one point, even wondered why I have a ‘black eye’. Wondered how the heck did I get one (or two!). You’ve seen my short self carrying a small bag, big bag, LOADS of wrapped gifts, especially around Christmastime. You’ve witnessed sheriffs come ask me for an ID when I seem to have forgotten my ticket but eventually been let go.
We all have stories to tell. Perhaps animated, possibly even more tales of woe. But until then, I am just occupying a soulless space for I am another stressed zombie waiting in the platform, riding the train — just like you.
Until one day, one of us says, “Hello!”
The sun is high. No soul in sight. My hair wet when I left home — now dry. My bladder full. Even the train platform is quite empty than the usual sight I see.
It’s a sign. A sign that I’m late. Not only did I miss my train, I missed the next one too – an HOUR later.
What happened today, October 6th on this warm Monday morning?
Just before I got to the Summit, there was a tingling I sense (just like Spiderman) of doom. Ok maybe not of doom, just of dread.
You see I commute from Victorville to downtown Los Angeles. I take the Metrolink train at Rancho Cucamonga on the way to LA.
But today was the worst, so far. I’d like to start my week right and this happening is not my ideal way. I guess not this time.
Let’s be realistic:
On the Summit just to go down the Cajon Pass to the 138 (scales) took me a good hour and 10minutes.
Heck, even the bypass lane was jammed:
Saw the sign: Kenwood 2miles. I checked the time, 8:06AM. By the time I reached Kenwood Ave, it was 8:30AM. It took me 24minutes to reach two miles!
All because of this sign:
Follow your inner moonlight; don’t hide the madness.” — Allen Ginsberg
My mom had learned I blog in the train. “I told her to pray in the train instead!” hysterically telling my Dad, who told her about it. I remember I was in high school I overheard her talking to my older sister and telling her that once I come back home from school, “…. She goes straight to her room and write on her diary. What does she write in there?” she would ask.
What do I write in there?
BOYS! I write my secrets, other people’s secrets that were told in confidence (I have to tell someone!), events (sometimes mundane – I’d like to look back on them and say I had my life easy, compared to adult life – didn’t need to write that down to know, huh? – guess it became a routine). I want to see what I have written when I was at this age and that age and know what do kids really care about and what do they see growing up. That way, it may aid me in becoming a better parent/person, I hope. Isn’t this the point of evolution? I read somewhere that one needs to write anything to clear the mind then that’s when the “real” writing comes out. Now, I don’t know if this is me just writing or is this the real stuff?
I used to write conversations I had with my friends (still do – when I get the chance or more importantly, when I remember it). That’s what drives my parents mad. After spending hours and hours on the phone talking to friends, I’d write my feelings and what he-said and what she-said, a transcript of what we just talked about. Had to write them right away while still fresh in my mind. Or write letters (novels as what my friends used to call them). Or record songs played on the radio in cassette tapes so I can play them over and over while I write them in my lyrics book. These take hours. I could be helping my mom either prepare dinner or cut onions and garlic, mix the stew or something. But no, I was away in my own world – writing. And though it drove them both nuts, now that you read my blog, I’d like you both to know that I thank you for letting me do and say insane things (though I know among the three, I am the most sane, noh?)
I blog now. I keep up with the times. I don’t want a posthumous award. I don’t want any award at all. I just want to find my voice that I may have seem to have lost along the way. It’s only one facet of my life I’m sharing for the world to see, anyway. Some things are best kept private,
though I got nothing to hide. It is a very complicated world. I now feel that I may have been quite sheltered. I hope I am resilient enough to take on life’s knockouts, get blown down by the ever-changing, growing strong winds. I want to come back up again and write all about it.
You both have health issues to deal with and yet your worrying (for us) never fail. I have yet to cross this bridge. My darlings are still small and I have a whole lot of things to learn about life and parenting.
That’s why I blog. To keep me grounded. Keep my rooted. Keep me feeling like I was eight again – just like the time I felt the first time writing. To keep me howling like a mad wolf. No more hiding.
For when I see the moon here, I can sleep in the comfort of knowing it’s another day for you there.
The moon does not fight. It attacks no one. It does not worry. It does not try to crush others. It keeps to its course, but by its very nature, it gently influences. What other body could pull an entire ocean from shore to shore? The moon is faithful to its nature and its power is never diminished. – ― Deng Ming-Dao, Everyday Tao: Living with Balance and Harmony
Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody. — Mark Twain
Moonlight drowns out all but the brightest stars. — J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings
Thank you for viewing!
It’s one of those days. No matter how early and no matter how smart (I try) driving I do, it’s just inevitable. Accident – no, make that accidents on the I-15S freeway this morning:
I stared at this sign for approximately six minutes (yes I timed it). We were stopped. I even had my car on ‘park’. The accident may have just happened.
Moving on, even the ‘bypass lane’ had a bit of a standstill. From thereon, another accident/incident too, until after Cleghorn, we were going just under 25mph.
I dare not take a picture of the accidents. Nothing serious, though. Just some badly bent cars. The passengers/drivers of the five? cars looks ok to me. Probably shaken (I would be too!) but hopeful they’re OK.
In this traffic, I cannot be, I cannot have, I cannot think and definitely CANNOT MOVE!
Be safe everyone!