Pray for Change.

It's the end of 2009...where am I at?

I've realized these changes aren't going to come quickly. I went back to California for Christmas on the 12th. There was this undercurrent of anticipation. Selfishly enough, it wasn't for everyone back home. Don't get me wrong I was certainly excited to see them, but I was also eager to know how I've changed over the past few months. You ever stand in the frame of the doorway and with the tops of your hands you push real hard on the sides like you were Samson taking town the Philistines, then just when the veins start to surface on your forehead you let go, step away, and watch your arms just float up? Yeah, the homecoming wasn't like that.

It's impatience. Not the New York brand (just yet), it's still just the same old California, old Julian brand impatience. This isn't just going to take a lot more time, it's going to take a lot more effort and discipline.

So I've taken some time to re-strategize. Michael Phelps said he wouldn't be where he is today had he not put his goals in writing. I'll be doing the same for my career, with time limits. So after the hometown visit, the holiday weight gain, the snowy return, and the weekend festivities all find their end...it's time to get down to business. Oh yeah, did I mention that I'm out here to find work as an actor? More about that in the next post. Happy New Decade!

Lord, we give You glory for the work You've done this past year. We don't pray for ease and comfort in the days ahead, we pray for change, and the refining fire to purify us according to the riches of Your grace, and the wisdom of Your plan. We pray for change, for the good news of Jesus Christ to go to all people in all nations. To God be the glory, far beyond 2010.

Previously unpublished.

...sometimes I just forget to.

Written: Dec 2, 2009
Title: I have a bed!

The realization still retains its savor despite having come to it many times throughout my afternoon. I picked it up today from the mattress store, and with asinine resolve attempted to carry it atop my head all the way to my apartment. How far away was it you ask? Well, I'm not sure...which is why about four increasingly aimless blocks east and and a just about defeated block south, I called for a cab. Just in time, too, because as I hung up I felt some drops on my left temple and cheek. I smiled and just laughed with God at my own silliness. I dressed it up with some brand new sheets from Target I had waiting atop my shelf, then sadly rushed to the train as I had an hour-long ride to acting class waiting for me.

Which brings me here, five hours later, with a release of two and a half months anticipation, as sprawled out as a person of my lankage can be on a twin size mattress, thinking to myself...wow, praise the Lord, I have a bed.


Written: Dec 5, 2009
Title: First snow.

Nothing really elaborate about it. Same dream as every Southern California kid (who hadn't lived in L.A. or Malibu in recent years), with the longing curiosity for what flurries would look like on their bedroom window...only to confirm that indeed, there's nothing really elaborate about it.

Still gosh darn cool, though. Milestone successfully, and succinctly, chronicled.

Lunch with Kuya Nelson.

"Oh Ian, it's so good to hear your voice."

In most cases, I try not to anticipate how much somebody might miss me; I'm very good at indulging in that stuff. Other times I just get taken by surprise. Kuya* Nelson is someone that for a long time has been in my life, but I still didn't expect him to say that. Suddenly, in the cold resonating stone walls of the New York Public Library, I'm compelled to reply with a warm chuckle of spontaneous relief "it's so great to hear your voice too."

He's decided to treat me to anywhere I want go. Mrs. Rodriguez probably knows better than most how dangerous it is to hand me a blank check -- once in elementary school she gave me a $20 bill to take over to the snack shop during one of Alex Rodriguez's baseball games, and I greedily splurged on $17 worth of junk food. I had the worst feeling in my stomach later that day; it's one of my most prized childhood regrets.

I take us to Eisenberg's -- fairly priced and delightfully local. While we're walking he asks me what I enjoying doing most here, and with a gesture to everything around us I answer "this." I probably spend most of my day "going to" and "coming from," and after I've done that I tell him my second favorite thing to do is "sit and watch," mostly in the park. I can imagine most articulate residents here would say the same; after all, they're doing it with me.

"You know everybody back home still talks about you. Even though they hate for you to be so far away, they still feel connected with all your blog posts and stuff"

he tells frankly over some pastrami sandwiches and dish of pickle spears, and for the first time in a profound way...I miss home. I guess I just got into the idea of community here really easily. Large-scale, expansively conscious, metropolitan community, is something that's always sounded so exciting to me, and continues to be. That's why I don't get tired of walking, why I don't get bored sitting, why I never run out of things to see -- you ever notice how pretty much anything can become something you "just gotta see" when a lot of other people are seeing it? Well let me tell you, there are a lot of people in Manhattan. But my time with Kuya Nelson reminded me of something I hadn't realized I missed so much: that small-scale cooped-up kind of community. That suburban, microcosmic, I-noticed-you-were-missing kind of community. I also realized just how much time nowadays I spend doing my own thing.

I'm really starting to notice that God picked Kuya Nelson for a specific reason. I don't think we've ever spent time like this before so I was initially nervous about it, yet he so easily divulges his war stories with me, and when I bear my own soul to him, he knows just how to point me back to Christ. These are the kinds of exchanges mature, godly men need to be having with men of the next generation. Afterwards, he drives me back to Times Square where I have my acting class, and as we trade rushed goodbyes at a red light, he hugs me, musses my hair up a bit and tells me he loves me. That and he hands me some cash that he gives me permission to use on anything I want. "Wow," I think to myself, quickly restraining my lavish imagination and resolving to put it towards that parking ticket I got last month. PTL.



*kuya means "older brother" in Tagalog, term of respect