Saturday, November 28

Life as a Telemarketer - Mark as Important

I feel utterly embarrassed of my actions on November 25, 2015. There's probably no coming back from that now. Fcuk it. I started this post a while back, but that night gave me some material to add in, the humor in this piece. Make humor of your embarrassment people. Laugh at it and keep moving, but learn from it. My 11th post! Here's my newest piece:

*ring ring*
"Hello mam'. With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"
"Hi, my name is Frank Ly, and I'm calling from Travis Tran and Associates"
"May I have the privilege of borrowing a moment of your time?"
"The reason I am calling you is to offer you a viable opportunity. Now, I am well aware of it being Black Friday and that you are probably overwhelmed with more than enough sales and offers. However, according to our demographic study, you've been selected to participate in a free trial of our services and may then qualify to be directly engaged into a partnership. We wanted you to be the first person we make this offer readily available to. If at any point, you decide terminate our services before or after the free trial period has ended, you will not be charged for the services rendered. We only ask that if you are find our company's performance satisfactory that you leave a positive feedback review so that we can remain in good standing. We receive most of our business through personal references, as we do not nationally advertise. Before I continue, I am required to disclose that I, myself, am a Customer Service Representative and will be receiving a small commission in event that we join forces. Do you wish to continue?"
"Great! Here's a little background of our organization. We've been in commission for roughly 26 years with 6 to 7 years of experience. Our goal here at Travis Tran and associates is to place individuals such as yourself in partnership with one of our esteemed colleagues in hopes to not only save you on cost and time, but form a lifetime memories as we move forward in unison."
"What makes this any different than any other partnership or match making assembly that you've come into contact you ask?"
"Well today, and for today only, we're offering you a hand to be in direct relation with our founder Mr. Travis Tran himself. This offer includes paid meals, transits to and from desired destinations, an occasional door opening or so, casual conversations, a few mistakes, a lot of apologies, complimentary compliments, keepsakes, etc. This is all included in our free trial and may even extend into a lifetime service agreement. There's little to no risk with no commitment within the first 30 days. Too good to be true? To start, we'll even give you a few shares of our company, which is nonreturnable and can be bargained for or disposed of. These shares are mostly good for a few good laughs, some secrets, and endless, embarrassing stories, but are not limited to such."
"Was that a giggle I heard?"
"Yes? I thought so. To better serve you and provide you with our first-rate service, I would like to ask you a few questions?
"What have you heard about our founder?"'
"That bad eh? We can confidently state that most, if not all, of his first impressions leaves our reputation tarnish, usually coming off as a jackass. This is why I, myself, and others are commissioned to represent his company and him. His antics allows us to retain a sense of job security. Which leads me to my second question: Do you believe in second chances? *laughs* If so, please allow us to proceed without pretenses. Our company is sometimes compared with top grain leather, a 1905 Bordeaux, selvedge jeans, raw platinum, high fidelity neodymium magnets, with the craftsmanship of a Patek Philippe watch. Fact! Do you believe in the richness of character? How about humor and equality in life? What is your position on people who unequivocally stand in your defense? These are just a few aspects that we represent here at Travis Tran and Associates. I am here to boast or brag, hype or pressure, but to ask for your indulgence in a simple, harmless company. This is more than a filet mignon on a paper plate. This is the beneficial curve thrown onto your under-performed final, the one that you've always wanted. Seize the deal and tickle your fancy today, as the deal may not be on the table tomorrow."
"Mam', are you still there?"
"Good. I would now like to take this time to thank you for bearing with me thus far. We hope to be hearing your response to our prodigious offer soon .Shortly after this call, you will receive a survey rating my performance. There you can voice your concerns or questions and nevertheless leave highly satisfactory ratings across the board. If, however, you would like to be removed from our calling list, please press "0" now. 

Post Script: So I did a Top 5 Eminem's Marshall Mathers LP 2 album songs in November 2013.. Thought I'd do Adele's new album since she's been on a hiatus. Favorite lyrics from each song is listed alongside. My next blog will be epic, at least I'd like to think so.

Top 5
1) Water Under the Bridge - And if I'm not the one for you, you've gotta stop holding me the way you do.
2) Can't Let Go - Did you ever find the note that I wrote? I hid it in the seam of your coat. It was hard to write with a lump in my throat. Do you even know I can't let go?
3) Hello - It's so typical of me to talk about myself, I'm sorry. I hope that you're well.
4) When We were Young - Cause I've been by myself all night long hoping you're someone I used to know.
5) Remedy - This ain't easy it's not meant to be. Every story has it's scars

Tuesday, November 10

Do you really want to be here?

I predetermined to write today. After watching a Wes Anderson movie and while listening to Big Pun, Nas and A Tribe Called Quest, this is was all that I could think about.

Do you really want to be here?
Here on this blog, afraid of what you’d read,
not knowing what you're getting into
Maybe it’s about you and it’ll hurt
Maybe it’s about someone else and it’ll hurt
What if you’re thinking too much into it, and it’s about nothing at all
Maybe I’m thinking too much, but isn’t that what I do and what you’re here for
Stop reading if you don’t want to question your worth
In the end, will it be worth it
Frankly, this is about everything
Do you really want to be here?
If this your source of insight, about me, about you or about nothing at all,
proceed with caution
If it has become a ritual to read religiously, most addictions aren’t good for you
There are groups for that
What if it makes you feel good to read it, and I’m not asking for you to leave in anyway
Can you stand it waiting for it day in and day out
Checking for a new post, knowing that 8 times a year doesn’t even equate to once every month and a half. Maybe it does, and my math is wrong
Do you want to filter through the monotonous just to find a few good articles
that pull heart strings and strike chords
How long do you want to be here and endure or relish my subpar literature?
Possibly another day or month and you’ll quit
How long do I expect you be here until you get over me or my writings
How long until the subject matter doesn’t matter
If I’ve written good about you here, you can also be ridiculed here as well
No one is safe or given pardon for good behavior
How long will it take for me to get over you and your so-called inspired blogs
Aren’t you fearful that it might not be about you anymore
Then you’ll be a subject of the past, as will this blog to you
I’m sure you’ve experienced how break-ups go
You might want to terminate your subscription soon
Do you really want to be here?
It has come to my attention that some people like being hurt by beautiful words
My words are as beautiful as a Hattori Hanzo sword, my tongue just as sharp
Aren’t you afraid of the truths I’d bring, the tyranny and betrayal that comes about
When I direct it towards or shout it out
What happens when it’s your turn to be in the cross hair and you came here for some innocent, light reading
What good does that bring for me or for you, imagine the impact
Isn’t it ironic that I’m questioning who is reading this, when right now it’s unquestionably addressed you
Are you uncomfortable yet
Do you feel that weight on you
First time views, do not let these questions discourage you
But do you really want to be here?
Where the reader can become the written about
Could you take the pressure of being the topic of discussion, front page of the news
Could you read knowing that the rest of my followers are reading
and may or may not know who you are specifically
What if there are no actual followers and this is just one long soliloquy
How will it feel only being able to read about my opinions about you without being able to correctly respond
Or correct erroneous statements I make about you
Ones that everyone here has already read and believe to be one of my truths
What if someone hates or is envious of you because of something I wrote about you
How long do I expect you to be here
Well as long as you’ll have me
Just knowing these facts as a reader,
Are you prepared for the relationship that we are about to inscribe
This is the last call, 8 ball corner pocket
Do you really want to be here?

Post Script: I know I barely know you, but I had a mother fcuking bad ass dream of who you could be as we walked endlessly though a K-Mart. It was funky as shit but mad real. To the muse of this post, cheers. On another note, I'm beginning to adapt a concept of not chasing something that has ran away. 

Sunday, October 18


 I have started eight new pieces just this month, but instead of finishing any one of those, I would rather finish this piece from 2011. =D

You lost me. You lost me when you said the right things at the wrong time. You lost me in translation and in indirect dialect with tones, tempo, and taper to the tee. Somewhere among your inarticulate speech impediment. Between the subject-verb agreement, a space. The distance between us wasn't  heard. Or were you talking too quickly; I was listening too slowly. You lost me in simple complications and every other disorientated oxymoron. In the literary movement. Somewhere within your one liners for subject personification. You’ve lost something borrowed from me. May it be time? You lost me in a fruitful future presently. You left me at prosperity street and success lane. Abandoned, left in between the mattress and the down comforter, in a dream. Walking on my soul. You lost me in a designated area for the forgetful. In explaining the diagnosis for my prognosis. In every one of your conceivable preemptive measures towards preventative circumstances. In your genius. You lost me in your rapid metamorphosis of what you would call your innate character. You lost me in the beauty of things. You left scar tissues and inflamed taste buds, making difficult to taste the sweeter things in life. You lost me in your baggage. Items you can’t just overnight.Your departure equated to a lost cause. Swept in the undertow.  You lost me and it's shown in your actions. In your flagrant carelessness and oversight. Whether it be memory lapse or purposeful elimination, in the midst of things, you lost me, but somehow I loss.     

Monday, October 12

Nonstop Misconnections

This will be my 8th post of the year. It doesn't seem like a lot, but it's an improvement. Two more post and I will have tied the number of post from 2013 and surpassed 2012. 43 more post and I shall have more than my 2010 blog fest. Let us stay hopeful. Thanks to Tu Vy, I read a great, maybe the best, misconnection story ever. I remembered that I once wrote a story like that, less descriptive and less interesting, if interesting at all. It was on my iPod I had written it awhile back during a flight. I won't tell you when. I wish it were better, but I was on a plane tirelessly writing it on a low battery iPod that also served as a listening device. 

Lately I've been a tad bit mesmerized. Like with this girl on this flight. The way she swindles her legs and plays through her hair. The way she turns her head towards the back ever so often is ever so distracting. I wonder if she's interested. But in the moment of my weakness and alertness, there's a glimpse of brightness from her.  Something more glistening than just an artificial aura. Then I notice it, in plain sight, a wedding ring. I should have known better than to assume that she's available, more or less single. But I can't help but to succumbing to my espionage tactics in finding a flaw that'll lessen her effectiveness.  I can't. My eyes won't allow me. Turbulence. The ring may serve as a barrier, but I don't think I'd do any more if it weren't there. I fantasize like that some times. I'm chicken shit like that, and I don't know her story. What's she doing so young and married? What am I doing wrong? Why am I the only one on this plane that's probably enthralled and now a bit attached? She may say the wrong thing to me, and then, bam, she's just a human again. Not a chance not worth taking. So, I'll let her have at being all beautiful and poised and shit. Staring is rude anyhow, and that certainly won't win me any brownie points. This is only one example of one person I've come into contact with and grew an affinity towards. What about that girl in the mall that showed me the smallest sliver of attention? What about the girl who asked me my age from Seattle?  Lately it's been bad, and I've been obsessive. All I know is that I'll always want to be mesmerized. It sounds like a diary, but it is more like a confessional. Girls do it with their Brad Pitts and Ryan Goslings; I guess it's okay for me to do it too. I do it with ordinary people, who to me become celebrities. In this journey called life, we're allowed a few nonstop one-way connections. 

Saturday, October 10

Lucky to Know You

I have a few drafted post, none of which are done or worthy of publishing yet. I think about blogging every day, sometimes jotting things down before I go to bed. Most of them seem to be complaints or angry post. I hate complaining and complainers ever more. So, my last post was kind of self-inflicting. Trying to mask it without deleting it urges me to write more. I wish I could delete it, but I won't because that's cowardly. Since I can't complete a subject, can't complain, want you to forget about my last post and  want to blog, I thought I'd post something old. Before there was my blogger, there was a notes section on my Facebook page. This article was one of them, and still holds true. I feel better when I read it, maybe it'll do the same for you. Here is "Lucky to Know You:"

Some people won't grasp to know their true value to another. Not in the obligatory "It's pleasure to have met you" formality. But the declaration of the true appreciation of meeting and knowing an individual, without the involvement of a eulogy. Some you may admire immediately, at first glance, first exchange of words, and others who grow on you like a new haircut you learn to love and/or fits you. Some filled with immense talent and others who are talentless, only great at being themselves. The mediocre ones who thrive to be great at something, but always seem to fall short sometimes aren't so mediocre and surpass expectation at being friends, associates and/or family members. Some with which you share an astronomical number of commonalities and some nothing at all. There are those who stand beside you day in and day out, and those who check in once in awhile, otherwise watching over at bay, neither of the two having more value than the other. Or in the opposite way, you being in the position being there for that person day in and day out or at bay with. Some people know you better than you know yourself and others know more of what you do and less of whom you are. Neither matter in deciding what they are to you. You would like to get to know some better, and if you hang out with the others anymore than you have to, they would mean less to you so you don't push the envelope. Most give you that mentality of, I miss you, where have you been the past years, months, and in more extreme cases, days. Not in the mushy gushy, "I don't know how my life would be without you" way. No! Bluntly, I probably could live without you years on in, but it would never be by choice nor be easy with half the excitement that comes along. Characteristic of these people could be an array of things: outgoing, animated, supportive, shy, benevolent, kind, philanthropist, straight forward, ambitious, optimistic, goal-orientated, school-orientated, and/or just oriental. One maybe possessing more than just one of the attribute. It's not the case that quality is better and quantity or quantity is better than quality, it's the composition of attributes that make one say mtfer you're the shit. Finally, there is that one person. The one that would make you feel truly lucky to be in his/her presence within your given lifetime. One that is different from the rest 6,905,386,162 people in the world. Then, there’s that innate joy upon mentioning that person, whose characteristics cannot be specified nor matched, and no one trait puts him/her above the next. One that is in a league of her/his own, bar none, second to none, or any cliché, idiom, expression used in negating comparison. The unexplainably truths of who dreamt you into life or how did you come to be. One you try not to treat differently but can't help to. Who does for you more than you could ever do for them. This type of gratitude is a one way street. It's not giving to get back; it's giving by choosing to give, to make known, to frankly exclaim, clarify or reinforce. It's appreciation for appreciation sake. Without this person, you would be blasé.

Post Script: I've been feeling like Anakin in Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith. 

Tuesday, September 22

The blog that almost wasn't and is uncalled for

Some times, I feel like this blog is a mirage. It is and isn't what I am. When I reflect on the posts and review them, I find myself trying to find the person that wrote it. This is me one or two hours out of the day, more than what I can offer. I lose him days at a time. My lifestyle is pretty bland, and nowadays I'm pretty much kept to myself. Here, I can be whoever I want to be and say whatever people will read. This blog gives me the chance to believe in things that I had already given up on: love, hope, unconditional relationships and lost crafts. Honestly, if I were this person day in and day out, I'd be a fcuking sociopath. Think about the attachments, depressive content and subliminal outreaches that I write about. Take away the fancy wording, rhyme schemes and metaphors, and you have a person trying to humble himself throughout his melancholic episodes. I'm not saying that everything I've written is hogwash thus far. Each and every post is true to me. I just don't want you to expect this person when you meet or come into contact with me. I'm not a writer (not good enough), not a blogger (don't blog enough), and I'm certainly not a travesty. All I do is take these little concepts and emotions and blow them the fcuk up with symbolism and exaggerations, to a certain degree. That I can say I enjoy doing. I go through just as many dark times as the next  person; I'm just a dreamer that translates it here. So, before you say I wrote this about so and so because this and that, know that it probably didn't start there and may not necessarily be true. I write because of ideas, fcuking ideas. I don't miss anyone, but I sure can have an idea of missing something and run with it. I'll repeat that for the over-lookers, "I don't miss anyone," with the exception of my mom. I know that lately I've been writing about relationships, but I am no way "in love" with anyone right now. I'm in love with fcuking ideas of being in love or loving. I'm in between posting this publicly on twitter and backspacing the whole 30 minutes I've just lost, but I'm way beyond.  It's just going to get posted to make me look like a jackass who has wasted time (his and others) trying to explain himself in what could have been 100 characters of a tweet or facebook post. However, I've never complained on those social networks, so the bloggers here get my rampage. This blog transitioned horribly. I went from explaining myself to defending myself. To who you ask? Probably myself. =) "Good night and God bless" - In Russell Simmons Voice. Thank you sincerely for liking my ideas though. It means a lot.

Monday, August 24

Silent Letters

I've said it before, I'm a runner. At this very moment,  I want to run outside. It's too late for that, and I'm too out of shape for that, at least right now. So, I thought I'd blog. Excuse the laziness in my writing; I'm a bit tired.

Silent letters weren't heard like the "B" in subtle. If you've written one, there's no such thing as being subtle. Silent letters skipped the drafting phase and go on mass display from masking face. What I'm saying is that you've read my expressions with my silent letters.  Written in body language, like sighs and anguish. Like oh my I'm famished for your time to hang with. Can't you see me begging for you to ask me the wrong question, so that I can lie about just so I won't look desperate? That's what I'm going for when I send you messages like these. I saw you for the first time in awhile. And tried to smile, but out of nervousness I repeatedly tapped on my leg the Morse code for, "Where have you been? I've miss you." Have you heard of this or was my heart beating too loudly? It did get to you. Just another silent letter gone unread and discarded like credit card applications. However, I have a good interest rate, and you're my interest mate. I doubt that you hear the "b" in doubt. So there's no use in guessing because there's no "u" in guessing, at least not one that I've heard. Those aren't the kind of silent types that I'm sending you. I kind of type a message to kind of write just to mention you. For God's sake, I liked your Instagram post. So, I hope you hear this. My memos come in the form of dodging glances, little lies, little signs of discomfort when you come forth. Silent letters like showing up to where you were at. I was heading to your greeting, closing in on your signature, but it came out as ignoring you probably. You're still in my salutations, my "Dear" and my "Love", and everything in between those commas, your body'd be. You're right, a first class forever stamp. I face you yet daydream about you, being a space cadet. That was a stationary that hasn't left the postal station yet. So this is my post script to my post card, a post blog. Until you read it, it's post marked. I've removed words, backspaced a few letters, took it out of speech and wrote it off. None were heard, some were misunderstood, but all were sent as silent letters. Certainly you didn't mistake me flirting with another girl as a sign that I've gotten over you. That was just a signal for you to snatch me away. Since you didn't, I took it as a message misread. Take notes when I make notes when I tell you things with my tells. Next time that I express a silent letter, I'll send you it in written form as a blind carbon copy of an email. I won't have to raise the flag up, lick an envelope or pay for postage stamps, because silent letters weren't heard like the "B" in subtle. If you've written one, there's no such thing as being subtle.

Saturday, August 15

The Valley

This is the cry from my violin's bow. I can feel my deepest fear coming true. My internal fire trickles down the little wick remaining. That's the truth about our candles. We burn as bright and strong throughout, just until our dying seconds. Through the tough trough, no scent of any roses. Life is being taking from me, but I am not the only owner. I'd rather not have this secret. Honestly, I can't feel my heart beat right now. I'm so terrified, shapeless and paralyzed. Poor in memories asking for more hours, more ours. I'm staying when the credits roll. No encore or curtain calls wanted. Stay with me. Maybe someone will want me after the tragedy passes. Damaged goods can get bought if its price is compromised when its value is down. I'm caught waiting in between the calm and the storm.

Saturday, July 25

The Impersonator

Do you know there's someone out there copying your hairstyle, carrying the same figure and mimicking your walk?
Someone is as graceful as you are, turns as many head as you can.
Some people have as much rhythm and even dance like you do.
Your same excitement and talent fill up this very room.
Somewhere compliments are being thrown around matching your characteristics.
Someone is playing the imitation game with your description.
Right now, there's a mockery of pretend laughs and flirty name calling going on.
Someone wrote about someone, and you fit the latter.
There's an article I read recently that I swore you wrote it.
Today, I heard a song you could've sang.
This pillow sure feels like you.
Somehow I saw your same face in every color, every race.
There aren't enough dressing rooms for fitting your profile
When I remember every facet about you,  I see you in everyone.

Thursday, June 18

Imaginary Friend

I know someone or used to know someone
Does that mean that I now only know "of" someone?
Does unknowing someone make them unknown?
I mean, we used to go everywhere and do everything together
Even then, not many people knew that I had you in my back pocket
I woke up with you; I fell asleep with you
We shared our dreams, our likes, our appreciation for, but lack of talents
They only know what I tell them about you
People never saw you talking to me; they didn't know that I talked to you
They never heard the conversations or saw us share a shadow
Walking around alone, when I wasn't, was the best
I knew you were there; you occupied my head
When you came back, we didn't miss a beat
I know every aspect about you, like how you smile, where you hide and things you wish everyone knew, but somehow only I knew
My invisible friend, it was a stardust fantasy
When something so unreal feels surreal
But I couldn't have invented this companionship
It would be way too convoluted for such complex characters
However, we had so many similarities
So many similarities that you'd think I'd made you up somehow
Somehow, I think I did
I had to have
I just had to have!
'Cause I never see you anymore, even in my dreams
If I never see you anymore, are you really there?
Can I support you if I never say anything?
If I feel you without touching you, are you still real?
If we were meant to be without being, I'd only be a being without meaning
Real or imaginary, I know someone
So, when it's all said and done
I'm coming back for you...

Tuesday, February 3

Happiness Per Suit

I believe that our approach has been wrong all along. We're all asking and yearning for the same thing. Maybe, there is not any steps or feats that need be taken specifically. What if the pursuit itself is it? I urge you to reconsider what we call happiness. Happiness isn't a state, but a phase we go though. It is the same as going though depression and anger. This means that there are spurts of happiness in our lives, meaning that we may or may not end up happy ultimately. Honestly, after accomplishing all your career goals and obtaining all your wants and needs, will you be happy then? Maybe we pursuit happiness to better ourselves and not for the sake of happiness itself. It should suit me, not the other way around. What happens when you become, this so called, happy? Are you just going to be jolly ole happy all the time? I don't want to seem like a pessimist, but I like to get sad and mad every once and awhile. I want to feel like I'm still living. I can't do that being happy all the time; that's stagnant. Shout out to the little spurts of happiness; shout out to all the big spurts of discontentment; and shout out to all the spurts of life. Just want to get this little piece of blog in since I've only blogged like a handful of times last year.