Myopic Thoughts

Once in a while, a breeze of fresh, clean air finds its way to you, and you can’t help but feel good. Enter: The Bloomfields. They’re a band. No, not just any band, a real in-your-face kick-ass band. Bangis. Their music isn’t punk. It isn’t alternative. Not even contemporary pop. It’s a mix of boogie and good old-fashioned rock and roll. They play songs from the 60’s, 70’s and anything else Ramon Jacinto would probably have in his gig lineup.

The band is composed of: JJ LOZANO (21) on lead, LOUIE POCO on bass, PEPE LOZANO on rhythym, LAKAN HILA on
piano/organ/keyboards and ROCKY COLLADO (21) on drums. Guess what: they even have RICKENBACKER GUITARS!!! (FYI, these are what John Lennon and Paul McCartney used back in the heydays).

Most of The Bloomfields repertoire involve revivals/remakes that were turned into jangle-pop; it leaves you with an aftertaste. Songs like Girl From Ipanema, King Creole, Ale, Walk On By and even Iskul Bukul have received makeovers whilst incredibly retaining the essence of the originals. Once again, crooning is in. Galing.

Their music kinda takes me back to a time when everything was laid-back and life wasn’t a pain in the ass. I remember when my dad would just pop-in a tape in the cassette deck and I would either hear Elvis, The Beatles, the Beach Boys or Dave Clark Five play, and I would automatically dance in the living room, a crazed monkey out of a cage. Good times man, good times.

Go ahead, feel good. Check it out for yourselves.
The Bloomfields. Fruity-Magical-Blast-From-The-Past-Music.

I guess I’m off the hook…for now. It’s been 5 days since the last comprehensive exam, and right now I honestly dunno what to do this summer. My friend Ray suggested that I get a part-time job doing research, so I’ll probably look into that possibility. Aside from that, I’ve got zilch. Zero. Nada. For the life of me I can’t figure out why, after all the waiting, the aching to get some decent sleep - some R&R, here I am, typing this blog, still sad, still lonely, still miserably waiting for something else…

Stupid. That’s me. All 6 letters. Clueless as to what I’m about. Sure I’m going to become a doctor. I’m going to save lives. I’m going to live my life wearing a white coat, spend the rest of my days seeing incomplete people and doing my best to make them whole again, or at the very least, try, and let them know they’re not alone in their incompleteness. And that’s that.

But what about me?   W h a t  .  a b o u t  .  ME.   The incomplete person that I am; that I was; that I have always been. Will I always stay this way? Will I always be incomplete? My high school guidance counselor once told me that we are all ‘wounded healers’; we have been given the gift to help others in spite of the fact that we ourselves are in need of help. Sometimes I wonder if that holds true every time. Because there moments like this when I feel I really can’t give what I don’t have.

No. It’s not right to whine. It’s not right to complain when my life isn’t as bad as others’. Still, just for today, I am cutting myself some slack. I am going easy on myself. Because I know. I know that even stupid people like me have a right to wrap themselves up in a cocoon. To lick their wounds. to be comforted. To rise again. To be happy. To be whole.