On Others-Love.

Promise, this is my 'last' entry on Love for awhile. I know I've hit my quota.. just bear with me on this last entry. The other possible title for this was, "On Two Kinds of People".

I spent way too much time trying to figure out what love is. Self love, value, etc. Yes, ad nauseum. I'd like to believe that the reason that I did so was because it was the month of February. A time of Love, VDay, and all that sweet, that nasty, that gushy stuff (Hova). The nice thing is that I figured out the answer to my riddle. From the voices that surround me, my family, my God. What is Self-Love. It is about awareness, acknowledgment, acceptance and anything else that seems to start with an "a". It is all those things and the ineffable. But the point of this entry that I'd like to focus now is, what is on the other end of the spectrum. The love for others. 

We are, as I see it and what I have been told, is made to love. We'd like to argue that we are also made to be loved but the only problem with that is that the latter is dependent on others. So what do you do? Continue on, as you were doing? What were you doing? Genuinely caring for others or sitting there, relishing in the idea that you are being loved by x, y, z people. Now, don't get me wrong, both things are good. To love and be loved are just glorious. They feel so good. And through our lives, we lie on different parts of this spectrum. Switching back and forth of giving and wanting adoration and attention. There are some, and at times it is our ownselves, that sit more towards one end than the other. And the problem is, the crux of the conflict is, when the person that loves to give gives to another that simply loves to receive. 

My aunt told me that there are two kinds of people in this world: those that offer their love and those that only want to receive love. But if love is an honest exchange, an equal transfer of one self to another. Wouldn't this ability to love serve its own purpose? That by loving others we in turn fulfill the need to be loved. This global symbiotic relationship. And yet, what would we do if the world was filled with only those that want to be loved. What happens then? Major fail. 

Now I'm not saying go whore out on the world and love everyone. The reality is, not everyone deserves you. Because. There are those that will extract every part of you, given the opportunity to do so, because they want that thing from you. Not you. But that something you can give them, that thing you offer them so willingly. Whether it is their ego stroked or a pat on their back. The hand is far more important to them, than the face of the person before them. So, be selective. Because when you decide to love another, as a friend - as an acquaintance - as a lover, it should be in its most genuine, authentic form. Without the need or expectation of something in return.

We have this heart, this emotional component, these tear ducts, the ability to have sex for joy, these arms to comfort one another. And yet we question if we are capable of love? Don't you get it? We are love. Created from it, inspired by it, downtrodden when it all goes to shit. So, if we are made to do this. To make action of this. Then, let's do it. We all want love, but let us do so in a form that is honest and enduring. And hope that by doing that, doing what is most natural to us, to love - that we in turn will be loved the way that we offer it. The Golden Rule. Freely, with joy and no need to fill an ego or a lonesome heart. 

So I end with this wish, like two dots connected by a line, that we as people construct a direct thread of compassion and sincerity, in the name of Love.

On Self-Love.

So my main conquest has been trying to figure out this little riddle of mine.

What is self-love?

Is it measured upon the number of people that love you? God no.

Is it vanity? In it's most crass form, yes it could be. Is it  something you can achieve, once it  is "reached" you're good? What does self-love entail? Is it the same for every one person? 

I want [this] so much because, I can't be pending on another's. To be loved is awesoume but never enough. I want to be self-sufficient, sustainable. Because what is more scary is this idea that another's love is pending your self-worth, especially after knowing that the decision another person makes is never, never under your control. God how scary is that. Love. 

So, to prevent this indelible self-destruction, we should build a fort where one can stand on his or her own two lovin' feet. That way, when ever shit hits the fan, you're still standing in shit. Wait, that didn't work out as well as I wanted it to. I mean, you are standing in shit but at least you are surrounded by this fortitude by your own two feet? Wow, still gross. Hmmm... 

Well, let's start from the beginning. How does one fall in love, in general? By getting to know them, by getting coffee with them, by sittin in silence with them while simultaneously feeling comfortable, with arguing and finding things out about them that may not be as pretty but yet worthy to be loved. So, first you get to know. Then, you tumble through a few arguments (to test resilience and durability) and then, accept that person through love. Make the commitment, active conscious commitment that you are enough. More than enough but good. Love in its purest, most intended form is commitment. So, self-love is commitment to you. It is this ongoing, every single day process. It's not like a trophy that once achieved is done but rather, this internal dialogue that is everlasting. Honest. Real. 

So it begins with dating yourself. Figuring out what yo want to do, what you like/dislike, the music you want in my ears, conversations you want to have. You know, doing the thing "you" want to do without the need of a plus one to hold your hand, so that you two are not alone. Don't get me wrong, companionship is a beautiful thing. Just make sure that companion is worthy of you, all of you.  Then, after dating (hopefully) yourself you fall  madly in love and treat you the way you would a person you had loved. The best part of this recipe is that by doing you, falling in love with you, others often follow suit. As a friend or a lover, the more sweet you make your honey, the more bees want a taste. 

So if it wasn't obvious before, its obvious now. I just ended a beautiful relationship of 3 years with a man I really loved. I was spoiled with support and great, great things. But for what it is, it just can't be now. And surprisingly very surprisingly I am doing well. Very well in fact, the other day I mentioned to someone that I could not imagine going back to the person I was then to the person I am now, even in spite of the heartbrokenness that came from it. I would not trade for the woman I came out of it. Ever. I am so happy, grateful. But I can't help but question even after all the good that came from this, why was I not worthy of his love? Fuck. I know my worth, I know I am delicious. But why this residual lack of self-love? 

Because. I thought to be worthy of love was measured by the love from others. Simple as that. So when someone treats you with less "love" you bust out your measuring stick and think less worthy. So then you proceed with meaningless dates, alcohol, and one night stands to fill this void. Not in that particular order and all hypothetical, of course :) The only thing I can do, only thing I'll ever be able to do, is love the me and the others the best way possible. And in exchange, with hope, that there will be people along the way that will match that love of mine with an equal, mutual, loving love. 

So what is worthy to remember through all this, is that the actions of another is not all about you but a decision that they made for themselves. The only thing you can do is respect the ending of a love with honor and acknowledging the loss is not you. Love fleeing was never love, because it never had the commitment to do so. And the beauty, the best, the secret to the best kind of love, self-love is that it is impermeable to alllllll that. Shit from the external world and people. Absolutely untouchable. Invincible. It is yours, all yours to spoil rotten. 

So to quote from Parks & Recreation, Treat Yo Self [gooooood] every day, every year! 

On Vaginas.

Original title to this post: "On VDay" or "On the Letter V"

Vagina. Valentines. Violence. Victory.

The word "Vagina" has came out of my mouth more than a normal person in the past couple weeks. Partly, to promote for the show I was this past weekend and partly because that word is actually part of my daily vocabulary. Aside from that, I had time to actually meditate on what that word means when asked by many what the show Vagina Monologues entails.

It's more to than just that word. Yes - vagina, cunt, coochie snorcher, pussy, vay jay jay, etc. - there are all synonyms for the female genital that we are all oh-so-familiar from both the male or female perspective. We know what it is. And the sort of funny-ness that comes from saying that word. But when describing to those about the show "No, it's not a vagina talking on the stage... No, it's not like those parodies you've seen ... It's sorta funny, but sorta not" For those who have seen it, I challenge you to describe what this show is. It's almost impossible to give the show its justice in 3-4 sentences. Imposible.

It is not this uber feministic, semi-butch show where we denounce all men and hail and praise the vagina on a pedestal. It is this empowerment, this re-claiming, this identity of multiple women and their story about their lives, their bodies, their relationships with men, people, institutions, stigmas and how they interpret those interactions with those people or objects. The best part of the show, I believe, is knowing that at any one point, there were thousands of women saying those same words, with a similar intent, with the same goal to work against violence (since proceeds of the show go to both local programs as well as the VDay movement) by saying just a few scripted words.

I have never acted before except for that one time again for VagMo my Senior year of my undergrad. When people say I performed well, I just think its just their nice way of saying that I am (at times) overly dramatic and that "luckily" I can use this dramatic personality of mine on a stage in a somewhat productive manner. But, seriously, what I think I do well is that it's not that I'm "acting" but I just try to embody the real stories of the women in each of these monologues and think, how would I feel, where would I be, what would I have done. How different would my life would be, my decisions, my relationships.

I was molested when I was a child. Yes, this is extremely unfortunate and actually one of the most terrible things to ever happen to me and I feel like I've gone through a lot as a child. This isn't a "bragging right" either, comparing scars and such. God no. But by exposing this, I want to say that, if it wasn't for this show - where there was a medium for me to just be able to speak - even if those words were not my own, were not written by my own hand, I still mirrored the very sentiment they held. I remember the first time I got to see the audience stand when asked if they were victims of sexual violence or knows someone that was, it took my breath away. A weight lifted from within. Knowing that I was not alone. Knowing that stupid shit happens to women that are just so unjust. And yet, and yet. I am here, and as for those who do know me, would say you could not see the injustice in me. Because. I was able to rise from, knowing that this unfortunately is not out of the norm, knowing that there are lives living on, moving on, flourishing. Life goes on, they move on. Partly because there is no other option but to do so. Yet there is this subtle resilience, translating to the stage, is a very remarkable thing.

So yes, the V - this word vagina or violated or violence (sexual or domestic) or vengeance or victory - all come from this shit. That is why I praise it so much, because it means more than just the 6 letters it is. It encompasses strength, stories, the actual lives of women that had to see the world through that hole. Now, do you see? It's all about the "Power to the V".

So help me celebrate today's VDay and be part of the world, the people that empower the V. Giving it the respect, the honor, the life it deserves. http://www.vday.org/about/long-term-vision So with today being Valentines-  the day for lovers, couples, hook-ups, and the alike. I want to wish everyone a very safe and joyous VDay. Consent is the key. V love.

On Gold.

The past two months have been a bitch. One hell of a bitch. Had the highest of my highs and the lowest of my lows. And, why?

Because I gave my value, my self-worth to someone, to anyone, to no one.. but myself. Where does that lead to? [Detroit, jk hah]. Where does that bring me to understand my worth by serving it to anyone else that does not know all of me other than myself. We see ourselves, each and every day, we spend the most time with ourselves. We share the most deepest secrets, share the best moments of laughter, with ourselves. Not any one person in our lives, no matter how much we love them or spend every minute of our days with them, will never ever (never ever?) get to know you better than yourself. No one. So then, why do we leave it to others to tell us who we are - what we would need to be - what our choices should represent - and more importantly, what our worth or value is to this world?

I gave it to him. To him. A person that could not understand me for the life of me. Who had this image, this passing thought of who he thought I was. He wanted me to be the "best person I can be" which in his eyes, meant to be a doctor. The dream I created and generated for my own self. But what is it, though he would never admit it, would never be enough for him. And why, why why why would that fucking matter. I am lame. Cool but so lame, sometimes. I wanted that for myself and it became a dream that I had to achieve to be "worthy" of love. Fuck that. I am aware this makes me look like a fool. But that is not to say, that I am pretty sure that ya'll have been here before. This sentiment. This feeling of low. Where your life was held in the hands of another - an institution, an admissions board, a family member or dear friend, a lover or crush. We all have put ourselves in a position, so vulnerable, and inevitably harmful to our most precious goods. 

So [I] don't care whether you give me pity, I don't want it but can see why you'd feel that towards me as I describe to you my past life. Nevertheless, I put it out there, this vulnerability because it took me forever to understand this and hopefully you can find value in my very few words: your self worth has nothing to do with ___. Ever. Because for some strange reason, what they think of you, how they think of you, where they see you as, and how they can benefit from you, your love, your attention matters... will always be biased, selfish, and un-focused on you. Only you know whatever is, can, and will be. 

For a person that you spend the most time with, the person you get to talk to the most, argue with, sleep with, every single day - is yourself. Get to know 'em and be damned surprised when yourself comes out in ways you would have ever imagined. The way you have dreamt yourself to be, known yourself to be - because of your ancestors, your legacy, and your self. Because in the end of the day, isn't that person matter the most? 

I end with this more positive, lighter note. When asked how much I was worth, my aunt said to me it was gold. "If I can wrap you in gold, I would. And yet even then you are far more worth than that. But you should know that for yourself and not because I told you." So there. Remember this for today. Not because I told you are but because you are. Golden.

On Being Delusional.

Wrote this when I was in San Diego over winter break. Somewhat applicable, just maybe not so dramatic :) But for the sake of the integrity of this entry, I shall keep it the same. #shameful

I am an idiot to think that I have control over my life. Now, don't get me wrong. I will choose accordingly the things that I can, whether that be in my career, my personal, or just even my day to day decisions but when it comes to what is bigger than today, I give up dude. I have no fucking clue.

I am going down the road where my thoughts, my desires do not match my givens. My aunt warned me about this. I need to give up what I think I need. Or more so, of what I think I want. I write constantly about my thoughts, my sentiments, my analogies to life and Biology, about giving oneself, hoping, believing, Love, etc. and you would think that I would be an expert to knowing how to distribute these things in my life. But when a moment presents itself, I lose myself in this whirlwind of past sentiments, which consumed me in ways that just made things harder to digest. It's weird that I throw myself in shit that makes me feel... more like shit.

I am so delusional. To think that I have the ability to transform a way a person sees me. When in reality, the only image that matters, that will ever matter, is how I see myself. And the funny thing is, I really like me. Not in this cocky, dude "I'm the shit" sort of way. But in a way that I am proud of what I am building towards. I feel good about who I am and I know what I can offer others, objectively with compassion. I acknowledge my weaknesses and approach them with responsibility. Then, what's the problem? When a moment presents itself, I fucking lose it. To be fair, this 'moment' was more of a very dense all-day event of moments that just was not part of my original agenda. I want to say that it was better than what I had expected but in the end, I think I was fooling myself to think that it mattered. I felt used because within a second of a pretend nap, I find what really is happening happen right in front of me. I lost me. With all the work and all the conversations and all the insight. I got ruffled, confused, drunk. And lost it. My core. My person that I was so proud of these past two months.

I have thrown myself, displayed all that is me on a platter and even then it didn't feel like enough. And not in the sense of enough for another person but for me. It either was too much of who I thought I needed to be or not enough of me that I've created these past few months. It isn't' even about self-respect anymore at this point. I am just a fool. A tired fool.

I need to walk away. Not because I do not love you, not even because it hurts, but because at that point, it isn't what I think it is anymore. There is no love anymore to fight for. Just a way to compete for your attention. And I already lose in that race because I don't have the proximity nor your attention. 

Love is already a very complicated thing. There is much to filter out and figure out or at least honor what is left between this exchange, but I realized that I forced myself blind to see that there is another person involved. And even though I want to fight for that Love, I won't compete with it. The best, and the most obvious, choice for me to do is to just walk away. I am delusional to think that I'll win this race. The winner has already been chosen, and as much as I think I can influenced it with the life we built, I realize that I am no longer part of the identity you want to build for yourself. Plus, she's cute and a breath of fresh air. To think that I can persuade otherwise, 400 miles away without being able to just be there. Is false. I have no voice where I am, mainly because there is no one listening.

And the funny thing is, I was in the complete opposite mindset use a couple days ago. Now, don't think that for a second that what I wrote then is not pertinent or discreditable in any way. Am I forgetful or wavering? What is worst? I am but a fool. I just have to remember when I felt good it was when I took care of myself.

This too shall pass.

On my Uncle.

The brother of my father, Dr. Sylvester Almiron, is an amazing man. It may seem obvious that he, being the physician of the family, would be the person I would want to emulate and find him not only significant but relevant. Yet the reason I honor him transcends beyond the stories of his practice in medicine and extends to the relationships he established and contributed to in addition to becoming a prominent clinician.

My uncle lives a life of faith. Even as a man of science and medicine, I see through his decisions and actions that his strong sense of hope and presence of strength comes from a belief that there exists an entity beyond him and his reason. This spiritual disposition is an understatement since my uncle’s father, my grandfather, is a pastor. When my uncle was a young boy, he would go with his father on home visits to those who were sick and whose families had asked the pastor to pray over them.

My uncle, after witnessing the praying over the sick, asked his father if there was more that they could do. And although prayer has its own power in it of itself, my uncle wanted a more tangible response to these physical ailments. It is in those moments where he discovered the medium of where he would do his ministry, through the field of medicine.

Another aspiring story that comes into mind is when my uncle established a prominent Filipino community in his hobby, tennis. There were not so much training grounds for those living in the suburbs of New York for the minority community. Most spaces were already preoccupied with a particular, exclusive tenants that were not as welcoming to him or his family. When the problem arose where his children had no space to play as well as no coaches to teach the, my uncle responded by building a tennis court in his backyard and then received his credentials to coach tennis. He stands as an awarded coach and a prestigious figure in his local tennis community.

My most significant memory of my uncle, however, goes back to that of my father. Although I was too young to understand the gravity of circumstances my father endured towards the later years of his life, I am grateful to say that my uncle was there in ways that I can only hope for. My father entered rather foreign territory when he became ill with a diagnosis that was of a novelty at that time and as appropriate as it was, my father’s brother happened to be a doctor. And although my uncle could not free him from his ails, his experience as a caretaker allowed him to provide a significant amount of support. Every month, my uncle would fly from New York to California to visit his little brother.

His life not only tells me how to become a successful physician but also on how to be a good person: a person of faith, a person of courage and most importantly, a person of compassion. What he has done and continues to do with his life inspires me and humbles me to not only become an amazing physician but to be a person of noble character as well. 

On Being a Hoe.

I know that the word 'hoe' can seem derogatory but hear me out first. Although I would not want to admit this on a public forum, I used to be 'a very big hoe' (extra points to those who can identify where that line comes from). The main spurts of when this would happen, typically occurred during or after a break up. I go all balls out when it came to partying and doing the things that we judge other people for doing. Even though we've all been there before. Where we do not want to take responsibility of our circumstances, responsibly. We desert the familiar rather abruptly and then submerge ourselves in behaviors that may be less lady - or gentleman - like. Side question, what do you call a man that is a hoe? Man hoe? Sounds like a tool. Ha get it? I love that I can make myself laugh. Puns gotta love them.

So now, I am sorta in the same situation as before, where I can "hoe out" but this time its a little different. Call it more 'self-respect' or maturity or lack of energy but I can tell that my response in this situation is different. Don't get me wrong, anyone that knows me knows that I can do the deed but its just takes too much to be a hoe right now. What I don't need to do is people, what I do need to do is get A's. Don't want an attractive man, rather a ridiculously sexy record that I can boast around during medical school interviews. And like they say, its the time to be selfish. I want to hoe out on school/ applications/my entire future career and/or life. I've been lucky enough to have a playful past of lovers and fleeing 'acquaintances'. All of which were ridiculsouly consuming love stories. But for now I choose the less hoe-y road and temporarily retire the 'falling in love' outfit.

I know it sounds like a cop out but really, energy and time are very limited entities. To do what you need to do, as I am learning, requires compartmentalization. And for right now, its all about the career, the foundation, the making the means for the life I've always dreamed of. If Love is love, it'll be there later. I dreamt of a very grandiose, overly joyful, expensive future. And so, in the name of that love and life I hold so close, I need to commit myself to the work that will require to have that life I want to live. Every single day. I want a home filled with ridiculously unnecessary but cute stuff and a nice ass view. I want children, where they can be carelesslely ambitious and driven.

As they say, there is a time and place for everything. Do the work now, check options later. I have invested well enough in the 'being in love/in a relationship/dating with my heart on my sleeve'  account, that its now time to do work. I want to be deliciously submerged in my self, my life, my work. As much as I've enjoyed the life and loves in my past, it is time for me to focus that love - that energy - that part of me to school, my future, me. I know it seems like I've side tracked from the "hoe" to "love" topic but in the end, it's all sorta the same thing, right? The real question then is, what do you want to hoe out on? Once you figure that out, go all balls out and hoe out on the things you love.