Bio of a Sixth Grader

This is a collection of work, in fact is a writing project I had worked on in the Sixth Grade. I rediscovered it yesterday while sorting through my old stuff, discarding what I don’t need/require for my inevitable move.

I thought it novelty at first, but after a read-through, I had a sort of revelation: 1) Even as a kid, I recognized my solitary nature and embraced it. 2) I was thinking about writing seriously then as well.



Some of these facts are quite erroneous, not to mention hilarious. However those last few lines made me think.


Not long after I moved back to this area, I visited the site of that accident. The blood is no longer there.

The Writer



Well my teacher, Mrs. Buriani (sp?) was impressed.


“~less than a food away~”

Yeesh. Freudian slip? Must have been hungry when I wrote that.

I also do remember quite vividly that my mother was a little angry with me after reading this.

Dream Page 1

Dream Page 2

Dream Page 3

Yes, this is the insanity that is I.


It’s not a bad thought. 

This is some really terrible stuff, but it is indeed the beginning of my personal writing style. By all means, laugh your heads off. Please. There is no excuse. This is the product of what I had learned in writing and grammar up to that point. It is quite unimpressive.

And yet…

Reading this work from over twenty years ago has put things into perspective. It emboldened my words in previous blog entries. The other activities (or distractions) I had pursued, the music and video game design-Those ambitions lead me to no success-In fact it put me into great debt and instability within myself, and my family. I am grateful to have learned and continue to learn more in those fields. However,  I realize now more than ever that all the tools I have ever really needed to succeed are a pencil and paper, or word processor, but most of all I needed the confidence in my ability to express and convey the creative weirdness within my mind.



Just a moment ago my tablet came alive with a “Ka-ching” emulating the sound of a cash register making a sale. And indeed I did make a sale. It was a notification from my eBay app with quick ticker message saying that my copy of Thunder Force V for the old Sony PlayStation (PS1) was sold. Thirty-Three bux! I believe I originally picked it up used in the late 90s for maybe ten bux.

Other items that sold, Ray Storm, Ray Crisis, Silent Hill among a few others which was/is the last of my old video game collection. I hate to see it go, but I 1) Need the money 2) Need to expel much of my belongings. This is just the start, there is a plethora of items to be thrown away, given away, sold, or donated to a second hand store.

Why am I doing this?

Well as I mentioned a few blogs back, my mother has come back from the Philippines. Long story; shortened – My siblings and I have agreed that she remain in the states for the time being-To settle her finances, take care of her health, and figure out her living situation.

Between the three of her kids, I, being out of work (sigh), have the most free time to care for her. And so, I aleviating myself of most of my posessions to ease the move, and help fund a place for her and myself-That is if it indeed comes to that point. We aren’t quite certain how we will proceed until we get can assess our mothers overall health. I do think it is leaning on me staying with her, thus these preparations.

It is not set in stone, but the more immediate course of action is flying to Virginia, where my mother now stays with my sister and her husband. My mother and I will stay there for perhaps a month or so, while we figure out a more permanent solution. I am aiming to get there by the middle of March and hope that is 1) Enough time to get rid of my posessions 2) Assuming my mother can handle being home alone while my sister and her husband (who work for the government), are gone the entire day.

I’ve basically gone through this scenario once already when taking care of my grandfather until is passing 2 years ago. I have an idea what to expect. Don’t misunderstand me when I say that this is indeed something I don’t willfully want to do, but for the sake of my sister and her busy life, and my brother’s burgeoning success as a musician in Los Angeles, I’ll do it. I love them, and I love my mother.

This time around, I will not waste time feeling lonely and feeling sorrowful. I will be productive. In between caring for my mother and other responsibilities, I WILL WRITE.

At the age 35 and trying other crafts over the years, I now know that this, writing, is really the only true talent I posess and feel that I excel at. It’s time to finish the stories I’ve started, and test my talent in the real world-And apply it not just to novels, or zine short stories, but to gaming, to movies, and whatever else may come way.

Having my wish granted in the form of that mechanical keyboard, gifted to me by a complete stranger was indeed a sign of what should be-What I should be, and what I should do. And now with the incoming responsibility of caring for my mother-That is the challenge I have to work with. It’s going to be a battle of time. Productivity versus family responsibility. I say if Beethoven could do it, then so can Ron Dador.

I’m really frightened by what is to come and the uncertainty of it all-But then when wasn’t I ever frightened? I’m still here.


two dollars

I honestly can’t remember when-Perhaps sometime in highschool-My grandparents had given me a two-dollar bill. They told me to keep it in my wallet for good luck-The symbolism being that if you always have a dollar in your wallet you’ll never be completely broke. Well this is two dollars, so I’m twice as rich! …yeah. Technically they are correct, but I’m sure it’s some ancient cliché.

Nevertheless, that same two-dollar bill has been transferred to several wallets over the years, and is one of the things that comes into my vision daily. It has been with me through countless events in my life, both good and bad, and neutral. I’m sure it has zero accountability for anything in my day-to-day life — Except that when I see it, for that brief instant, I think about my grandparents.

I am currently in a very loud and busy food court in Tanforan Mall. I’m waiting for a friend to get off from work. It’s the friend of that lassie from the Meet Pt. 1-We have actually become good acquaintances, if not good friends ourselves. I stated that I wouldn’t talk about that lass anymore. However, I will report that I was indeed correct in my assumptions. Well… more or less.

And I digress.

Moments ago, as I was about to gorge myself with a “Great Steak” reuben sandwich, I was interrupted by a slightly older Filipino lady who was doing a little soliciting. Some people may take the moment to verbally bash a solicitor for bothering them, especially in the middle of a meal. I’m not like that. Maybe it’s a bit naive of me to think this, but I say if someone has to solicit money in a food court at a mall, I think that person must have balls of steel, and must be desperate for help. If I am being taken, then all the power two them, cause I don’t think I’d have the guts to do what they do.

That said, I considering myself a good judge of character and I absolutely believe she is sincere.

In a nutshell, this lady named Catherine is representing her church in Vallejo, doing missionary work and trying to collect money for children in the Philippines. She spoke of the corruption in that country, and of how because of that, children are often neglected. I being a flip myself, am rather aware of the situation. Furthermore, my mother has done similar missionary work for her church, so it didn’t take much for me to believe Catherine.

So she asked for a donation-For anything I could spare. I reached down for my wallet, hoping I had a good five or ten bill or even a few singles. And of course you guessed it, the only president staring back up at me was Jefferson-All I had was my grandparents lucky two-dollar bill.
I paused for a moment and thought about my grandparents. Thought about the moment they gave me that bill-Thought about their passing-Thought about how long I had this in my possession, and about what it has come to actually symbolize.

It was never about luck. This insignificant piece of woven green cotton actually represents their love for me. It showed that they always wanted what was best for me. They wanted me to know that no matter bad it got, there was always that little piece of hope that you could hold on to.

I looked up at Catherine and said that this is all I have, and how it means a great deal to me–But I think it’s finally time to let go of my past, and grasp at the future.

Lord knows this two-dollars may have never been spent in my possession, but if it should be, then helping children is a noble cause. And I know my grandparents would have appreciated that.



I am home, after a week in a Los Angeles, and a couple days in Salinas. There is much to tell on my experiences and those also yet to come. For now I’m going to take a break and relax. Driving is a very sedentary activity, yet it is surprising how much energy it can sap out of you. Have to commend people such as lorry drivers who make a living out of it. 



This should be the last posting about that incredibly talented woman I met a few weeks back. I suppose it’s my way of getting over the fact that a serious relationship with her is just unrealistic-And not because of my current situation, but because she is just not directly attracted to me.

The other day–At ‘bucks again, she sat at table next to mine, with her back towards me. Quite honestly by now, I think she would recognize me, but it seems I was being ignored on purpose. I tapped her on the shoulder and said hello to make my presence known, but her greeting wasn’t quite the warmest. It was rather underwhelming.

I went back to reading a book I had bought earlier for a mutual friend/acquaintance- That gentleman that accompanied her that first time we met. The books is about writing essays and memoirs, and inspiration to do so.

MInutes later, I had the urge for a cigarette. On the way out, I gave her a small gift that I had gotten for her on a whim. It was nothing so impressive-A pencil pouch, a furry black pencil pouch in the shape of a character from an old anime series. That gesture caught her by surprise, and I think it did break the ice a little bit.

After the cigarette I returned inside, and she seemed a little more receptive, but I still felt she just wanted to be alone. After finishing off a chapter in that book, I was impressed enough by it to look it up for purchase on my Kindle app. Then I began to pack my stuff, and presented her with the book to give to our friend, whom she also works with. That is when she really perked up.

And that is when I began to see the bigger picture-I believe she really likes him. The few times during our meets, when the subject of he and his burgeoning writing endeavors came up, she seemed the most energetic. At first I thought it more a teacher & student sort of relationship, and yes it is, however I believe now her attraction has become or is more than that.

At that point I decided to stay, and even contacted our friend on Steam, via my tablet. It didn’t take much coaxing for her to make him walk all the way over here. He arrived an hour later. And in that display, it was confirmed that he was indeed very attracted to her.

I spent the next two hours in discussion with both of them on various things. There was even a few bouts of arm wrestling which I found amusing. He is indeed weaker than her. Of course they both couldn’t dream of taking me over the top as I’m a weight lifting gym rat. Neither could budge me. Still, I was impressed by her power, and the fact that she felt at least thirty percent stronger than he. I told him if he spent a good three months of dedicated strength training, I’m sure he would equal or best me.

I soon left them alone, as I was feeling rather under the weather.

The next day I caught our writer friend on Steam. He told me they hung around at Starbucks a few more hours, to leave at some 1-2am. I pressed my curiousity upon him and asked him if his infatuation or rather his affection for her was deeper than mere friendship. He confirmed it, yes. And he has indeed professed those feelings to her. I do not know her reply, but by her reactions to him, her body language, I imagine a love relationship forming before too long.

Must admit, it saddens me a bit. And yet, I’m not so surprised. They are nearer in age, and have much in common, but enough of a difference where they can grow together and it wouldn’t be boring. And I know, I’m also just plainly unattractive, and perhaps quite lacking in wit or tact or sophistication.

And so, I submit that this entry will be the last involving my affections for her, because I’m quite sure that such feelings are not mutual between her and myself. I will however continue to enjoy their company as fellow artists and friends.

Who am I to get in the way of something good? Something that I know I don’t deserve in the first place.

Happiness is a stranger that I would someday like to know. I can see it in the distance pacing along at the same speed as myself. I wish it would stop, turn around, notice me, and meet me half-way. Instead it’s something that I’m constantly chasing-And it is consistently just out of my grasp.

Perhaps that sort of happiness isn’t meant for me.




I am sitting at an IHOP some three-hundred or so miles from my so called home in South San Francisco. I am in Los Angeles, about a mile from LAX, and patiently awaiting the arrival of my little brother and my mother from the Philippines.

Just finished consuming an order of IHOP’s Chicken & Waffles. It wasn’t bad. The waffles with their old fashioned syrup definitely overpowered the taste of the chicken fingers. It was interesting, but I can imagine that is a combo I will never eat again.

The drive down was both nerve racking and boring. Interstate 5 is a straight line of asphalt and barren, empty, tanned lan surrounding it. Thankfully I brought some audio entertainment along for the trip.

Aside from a small pitstop just south of Bakersfield, I spent those hours on the road listening to some of Henry Rollins spoken word shows. In my mid twenties I was rather captivated by his writing, poetry, and spoken word acts. Black Coffee Blues in particular was-Well-It was/is a good read for sure-But an event transpired in my life while reading it that was both pathetic and hilarious. I’ll have to find an old journal entry I wrote on those events. Oh! Just thinking about it makes me both cringe and smile.

Anyway, the reason I am here, as I stated above is to greet my mother and brother. The last I had seen my brother was at my sister’s wedding last April; My Mother I have not seen in some four years. Not since I left to take care of my grandfather. Shortly after our move, mom went to live with my sister in Washington D.C. – Unfortunately with her ailing condition, my sister just couldn’t realistically take care of both her, and commit to her professional life. So my mother decided to move with her family in the Philippines.

To make a long story short, there must have been a falling out. My mother was moved to various places, and it all came to a head with the last caretaker who threw her out. That happened just a week ago. My siblings and I had had enough, it was time she came home to America so we could keep an eye on her, and also properly ready her (financially, etc.) to return to the Philippines if that is decided.

My sister fronted the plane tickets, a round trip for my brother (he has a passport), and single for my mother. As you may well know, booking a plane ticket just days in advance is rather expensive. It was good of my sister to do so, and my brother to do the retrieval.

I admit, I didn’t really want to make this drive. I dislike Los Angeles very much, and was reminded so as soon as I merged off Interstate 5 onto the 405. It’s Saturday, not even a workday and it was wall to wall traffic in both directions. The air is terrible, harder to breath, blah-blah-blah. And yet…

It really doesn’t matter what I think, or how irritated I may be. It really is petty. My brother and sister are the ones to be commended for doing what they are doing. Me, virtually penniless, thus far a miserable failure-The least I can do is greet my mother and brother with open arms.
I will be spending at least the next few days here in Los Angeles with them, and attempt to take care of some paperwork for my mother. This trip is not about fun. It’s about responsibility. It is about family.