Monthly Archives: January 1999

My Journey

The Greek playwright Sophocles presented the following riddle to the main character in one of his stories: What animal starts out on four legs, then moves to two, and then to three before dying? Of course Oedipus Rex answers correctly: man, who crawls as an infant then walks erect in middle age and finally uses a cane in the elder years. The journey of life follows much the same arc; we evolve from needing influence and guidance to finally reaching that point where our lives are up to us. I consider myself very lucky up to this point in my journey. Some people become sidetracked and wind up on a far different course than initially planned, but the detours I made have only assisted in embellishing the individual instead of devouring it.

According to Freud a person’s most important period to grow personality ranges from birth to six years. In that span my biggest influences came from my family. When I think of that time before kindergarten, the single most important person to my development was my grandmother Carmella. She didn’t graduate from college or sell wheat futures in the stock market, but she had wisdom and tenderness so few possess. My parents worked, so each morning my mother would drop me off at Grandma’s house. I didn’t realize it then but in retrospect, this woman has led a remarkable life. She birthed three sons all by Caesarian section, lost a husband in middle age, then all but raised a grandson for half a decade. She taught me how to walk and gave me my first piano lessons. She remains close to all her grandchildren yet her and I both know she holds a special place for the first one.

When I began school, friends began to shape paths for this journey. In the beginning we hardly know these classmates. Common interests and experiences bond or repel certain people to others. I didn’t understand what friendship meant until August 16, 1997, though. That morning, I fell asleep at the wheel of my car and ran into two utility poles and a tree while going 40 miles per hour. An ambulance rushed me to Memorial East and within a few hours the first person to visit me outside of my immediate family was my friend Matt. I hadn’t shown up to bowling that morning so he called my house then came to the hospital. Nobody made him come to see me so quickly but he did. I will never forget the look in his face as he stared down at me. Hopefully every young person can look at two loving parents for guidance and help. I know how fortunate it is that I live with both of my natural parents, and that they both want the best for me. My parents embedded the values I cherish today into my spirit: the difference between right and wrong, the correct way to deal with anger, the importance of dedication and hard work in life. Those seem like clichés, yet it is society that refuses to hold those basic principles sacred anymore. I consider it an honor and privilege to have parents with common sense and self-worth.

Other things have also affected the path I continue on today. Music certainly opened doors and exposed undiscovered emotions. Playing the saxophone, conducting, and even composing allowed this aestheticism to flow out from the depths of my being. Without becoming an artist I certainly would not understand my potential or the self-discipline that reaching a particular goal entails. Listening to poetry and music has helped to forge the Nick Capezza of today. The sonnets of William Shakespeare and symphonies of Beethoven express desires and feelings that I have yet even to discover. Without those outlets to describe the indescribable, I would probably be a more isolated and confused person than I am today.

Now that I have pinpointed what has pulled me to this point in the journey, maybe it’s time to discuss what will pull me further down the line. The overwhelming spectacle of college life certainly will play a hand in the Nicholas Capezza of tomorrow. Professors, fellow students, academic advisors, and even the nurses in the infirmary may all give insight and knowledge into an area of my psyche yet to unravel. Without parents there to kiss the tears away with milk and cookies, college will become the ultimate test between temptation and my inner-strength and the morals I have placed for my own behavior.

Possibly the biggest choice of any person’s life remains what vocation to go into. Even areas people have skills in may not give enough satisfaction to turn into a career, whether that satisfaction stays financial or otherwise. Whatever occupation I choose, I sincerely hope that the trek will remain on its uncertain and awesome course.

Throughout this journey of life many outside forces manipulate whom all of us become. These demons shake each individual in different ways, making it so the simple question, “What is quality?” cannot have a true answer. To me, quality means taking responsibility for one’s actions and standing tough in the eyes of a challenge. Quality includes honor, loyalty, and the instinct to do the right thing. Now who created my personal connotation? Through every relative, friend, and composition it boils down to me. I have taken all these beliefs and crammed them into a six feet, two inch frame. The real journey lies ahead, the journey from young adulthood to old age. I only pray this journey includes many travels and few destinations.

Waking Up, But Not Really…

As the world spins, grows

and dies

I’m too absorbed in petty problems

constant apathy

an unhappy soul

to feel anything

I’m the embodiment

of a wasted existence

I notice nothing outside

my car or bank balance

and know no other way

I haven’t heard music

for such a long time

but it’s time for work

another day’s here

and these waking thoughts

will soon be crushed

under the terrifyingly simple

thoughtless thoughts.

The Gift of Independence

A Privilege, A Responsibility

Our independence is a gift to us from our ancestors. Unlike other gifts, the price they paid for it was eternal. People such as José Rizal, Andres Bonifacio, Emilio Aguinaldo gave their all in a white flame of sacrifice on the altar of their nation. They lived, suffered and died for their noble cause, knowing they might never see the next sunrise. Still, they fought on.

Andres Bonifacio said: “In the fury of your struggle, some of you might die in the midst of battle, but this is an honor that will be a legacy to our race and our progeny.” Together with Jose Rizal and countless others, their words of inspiration fill our minds and hearts like blood clots of revelation from the wounds of humanity. They, like many others, answered the call of our native land—the call of freedom.

We should look back on the glories of the past with profound pride, remembering the sacrifices as we till the fields that have soaked up blood from countless battles, as we idly cruise through cities that stood witnesses to the marks of history and as we look upon the faces of our fellowmen, knowing that it is for them they fought. Lives were lost all throughout the dark moments of history and yet these moments are the ones that have further strengthened our patriotic love for our motherland.

Our independence is tempered by a responsibility. This responsibility calls for all of us to work hand in hand to make sure that the efforts of the heroes behind our liberation will not have been in vain.

Because of our freedom, we are now of a mind to make our own personality as Filipinos. We shoulder the responsibility of creating our own history to add to the golden pages of time.

Some say that the age of heroism is past. But if we observe closely, we will notice that at one time or another, someone, somewhere is bringing new meaning to the name Filipino. We will all stand firm, fighting for God and country. After all, for what greater or nobler cause is there than to fight than the ashes of our fathers and the temples of our gods? An age without a name is equal to one hour of sweet liberty.

The Philippines is no longer an obscure blot on the map. We have passed the test of time as the Centennial Celebration has doubtless proven. The Philippines is enjoying a century of independence, but we must also move out of the past and into the hands of the new generation.

Our country is a work in progress. As citizens of this country, we must do all we can to help. The people are the nation and it is up to us to keep the torch of freedom burning.

(This an inspirational essay for teenagers in the Philippines, my country)

A Symbol

Colors and depths, shape

Responding to my gaze

Or not

Ignoring the weight I put on them

Because they are not real

A window

A door

A comparison

A symbol

Watching me as if they had divine right

They tell all my secrets

If I cannot sleep

Then I cannot lie

As touch meets touch

So too does look meet with liquid reflection

A three-point star of onlookers

Who observe silently

Cloudy with a foreign intake

The salt tears that escape

And sometimes an inner light which shines them forward

The eyes become a vision.

Kitten/Deny

My nature is not appeased

Pleasingly.

I cannot be subdued

and will not allow you to forget me,

while you can deny your eyes

and close yourself from the world.

 

Your Will may be indomitable,

Even though the greatest mountains crumble.

The rains may be always storming,

I will not let that blank out the sun.

The jungles may be ferocious,

Even though the lion is still just a…

 

…kitten,

after all.

 

Those who fear their dreams in the dead of night,

know they are much more alive than a dream of the day.

 

Our vision in sight is only

that which passes through the pupil.

I will trade you my sight,

for a thimble of truth.

She’s Got

she’s got

motivation dripping

from ambitious palms

her fingers are moving so quickly

why can’t she just be calm?

please find her patience,

though sometimes it’s deceived

she’s still just a little lady

with a tiny bit achieved.

 

she’s got

frantic music

playing in her ears

her voice is now so quiet

could she be coughing up her fears?

please find her angel

it’s been gone so long, you know

it seems there’s been some mistake

she’s lost her soul in snow.

Bart’s People

Yes you too can be one of Bart’s people

Disobedient

A rebel

Blaspheming God and man

and if you can

making trouble for other people

A steeple

An idol

to evil

A weevil

of malice

A palace

of destruction

interruption

into the lives of others

chocolate centre

dementia

but the heart

is what counts

and if you can change the heart

then black will go

and you will no longer be one of

Bart’s people.

My Filth Is Hidden

I shove all my filth in the closet

And you don’t know the difference.

I hide all my clutter

And you think me clean.

 

I have practiced this façade for so long

And now you can’t see through it.

I disguise all my garbage

And you think what’s left is me.

 

I once was transparent

Once you could see right through me.

But then I discovered this smile and these words

Could hide it all from you.

 

Deep in that corner,

In that dark corner I protect,

Lie all my secrets

Lies all my filth

Lies all my sin.

 

But I put on a smile and you don’t know it’s there

I tell a story and you forget

I show you my desk and you think me clean

And you can’t see through me

For all my filth is hidden.

Twilit Dusk

In an effort to civilize Nature,

I, one twilit dusky day,

with the aid of pruners and the family’s black dog,

set off through the prairie;

through the blossoming grasses of the prairie,

toward my childhood destination:

the tree fort.

 

There, surrounded by the trees,

the grape-vine–entwined trees,

I trampled the weeds

and pruned back the vines until

I could stand no more;

for the biting gray insects,

the bloodthirsty insects, had won.

They were more diligent than I.

 

In an effort to civilize Nature,

I, one twilit dusky day,

set off back through the prairie,

through the blossoming grasses of the prairie,

through the droning bees’ noise of the prairie;

and, pausing a moment here and there,

I gathered a bouquet:

To take Nature again into Civilization.