Perfect Days is My Favorite Movie, Here's Why.

 

    

     No other film has moved me to make as many life changes as 'Perfect Days' directed by Wim Wenders. This story showcases the daily life of a toilet cleaner named Hirayama, exercising the fulfillment he finds in the work he does, and the hobbies that take place after. I'd hold on to labeling the plot as a "slow burn" due to the fact that Hirayama's journey ends right where it started, driving to work after following his morning routine. May I mention how decompressing it feels to watch him perform this almost ritual-like morning routine he has? No scene depicting him watering his small plants, or him storing away his futon shortly after waking up, feels artificial. Unlike the many people online who show off their so-called optimal morning drills, we are invited into the times when Hirayama's usual plans are interrupted. Even when things seem to slow down for the characters, on bike rides, eating dinner, reading a book, or taking pictures, the silence is constant. If Hirayama is our main star, the quiet that follows him is our second. I tell you, it is refreshing to see how someone else experiences life in a way where silence is allowed, even when things go wrong.

    Whenever an actual song does end up playing, we get to hear them get wound up and loaded into the player of a van in the form of cassettes. Yes, Perfect Days is indeed far from being mute; snaps of an analog camera, the bustling of the city that surrounds our main man, and the wind brushing against tree leaves are some of the elements our ears are met with. With all the noises I've listed, the winding up, the bustling, and brushing, all of it serves to amplify the expressions of Hirayama whenever he lacks the words to speak. However, it's his choice of appreciating the world rather than trying to add to it that feels so virtuous. In that van, our hero has every tool he needs for the job; using each with intention to clean every last inch of a bathroom. On his time off, he washes up at the local bathhouse, does his laundry, and reads or takes photos of the same tree.

    I doubt that there is a greater picture than Perfect Days that reminds us to just take a breath. If there is, please let me know! Ever since I watched this film, I have taken pictures of the nature I have overlooked, listened to music outside of algorithms, and trained myself to spend multiple days without my phone. I've also come to find value in older technology; CD players, a tube tv for DVD's, radio too. Now, I could finish off by listing off all of the benefits I have received by imitating Hirayama, but here's something much better. You don't have to mimic anyone's style or nature in order to find what you need. The world we live in is loud, overwhelming, and is waiting for you to make that next big purchase. What I and Wim Wenders can assure you is this; if you come to love what you have now, you'll have room in your heart to have so much more.

Be joyful always, pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus

- 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

To Matt (and partially Matts Lady),

 

   

     May this message find you well. I can't pinpoint what it was that pushed me to write this for you, but know that I mean everything I have here. I remember the structure you implemented in the classroom, the bowtie for every occasion, your likeness for Taco Bell, and the care you had for every person you taught math to. There is more that comes to mind, but nothing I can say would capture the outstanding figure you are. In the ten years since I left your instruction, I've learned more about my faith, culture, and that I don't really care for math. This might disappoint you, but the time came for me to reteach myself long division and fractions when my electrical classes started. Algebra probably would've been easier too if you had followed me after elementary school. Oh, how simple things were for me then, how innocent I was that I thought you'd just be there until I left college! Yes, it's true, I have grown, and man, if you were there as I overcame the crucible that was the rest of grade school, well- I wouldn't be the person I am today. 

    Whether it was the environment of your teaching or simply the nature of the 5th grade that kept me straight, I report to you that I strayed far from that innocence once I left it. Color began to matter, words became tools for me to use against others, and I've committed actions that I can't speak of. Perhaps I was bound to go down the same route even if you were there, although I doubt it. Because of said growth, I wanted to talk, but I felt like I didn't have a good enough story to tell you, a position I held I'd be proud of updating you on. However, I know our time here is short, and although I'm not really at the top of the world yet, I'm content with what I've got. If there's one thing I won't forget about you, Mr. Allen, it's that you noticed the uncertainty I had of my own future. "Whatever you do, I know you're going to be great at it." Thank you. I don't remember if I thanked you after you said it then, but I give you my gratitude here and now.

    Maybe I would've visited you and Mrs. Allen if you two hadn't moved away. Although you two have every right to question that, since I couldn't even bother sending a text. Truly, I hope you both may forgive me for my silence. To ask myself what would've been can give me enough material to write endlessly, but I'm thankful for you giving me what I do indeed have. I trust that your current Padawans are shaping up to be great, and I pray that you and Mrs. Allen are sharing a fruitful life together. 

    Sincerely,

    Jose N. Garcia

I give thanks to my God at every remembrance of you.

- Philippians 1:3

Jose's Paraiso

 

    I'm aware that Dante is not the first source any Christian should consult when seeking to make sense of the afterlife; so with that in place, please consider my following rhetoric with an open mind. According to Dante, the second circle of hell is for those who struggle with sins of the flesh. I have no problem with letting this cat out of the bag, considering the oversexualized world we live in. Our Lady of Fatima even said that there are more souls in hell than for any other reason. My fight against this sin seemed impossible at first, but continuously educating myself about the value of our bodies and the seriousness of maintaining a clean soul has made quite a change. I say fight because navigating through the spiritual life can indeed be a battle; we usually have to fall and get hurt to truly know the value of being in a state of grace. The more we strive to get closer to that state, chances are that the enemy will throw just about anything to discourage us.

    With that being said, a nightmare I had last night was so notable that I felt the need to write about it after months of neglecting the Jose Of The Day blog. It’s a terrifying experience to be caught in a dream within a dream, and even more so to go through it four times. Each "waking" felt more real than the last, trapping me in a cycle of growing dread.

In the first dream, my room was turned sideways as if it were a Rubik's Cube. The ceiling light was on the wall, the floor on another. It was dark, but I could just make out my door. When I tried to open it, it wouldn't budge. Panic set in, and I woke up.

The second dream began without warning. I left my room for the bathroom and walked into an “Upside Down” version of the house — vines crawling everywhere, pumpkins scattered across the floor, paper pasted over the walls. When I stumbled back toward my bedroom, I began to vomit beside my bed. The physical sensations felt very real: my chest clenched, muscles burned, and my whole body heaved as if it were actually happening, not just imagined.

Then I woke up a third time. The house was quiet, but a deep sense of unease filled me. I grabbed holy water and began throwing it on the walls and ceiling. Instead of dripping down, the water stopped mid-air and formed spinning, circular globs in the corners of the room. Instinctively, I ran to my parents’ room. It was daytime there, a stark contrast to my dark room. Their room was like a maze of books, papers, and folders stacked in towers. My parents’ heads popped out from an ocean of paper where their bed should have been. I told them about the nightmare. My mom laughed, not believing me, which was so true to her personality that it made the dream feel even more real. My dad, ever the listener, encouraged me to keep talking. But by then, I knew this wasn't normal, and I woke up again.

The fourth time I awoke, the sinking feeling had become a deep, dreadful weight. I felt an evil presence was trapping me in this endless cycle. This is when I started to call out the name of Jesus. As I tried to navigate the house, the walls were covered in pictures, paintings, and symbols of Jesus, but my every breath became a gasp for air. At the same time, I was pinned to my bed. A low roar or a buzzing sound came from my bed, my stomach, and my head every time I called out. It felt as if my body was stuck, but my soul was crawling around looking for help.

I began to spit out any Scripture I knew. It was like I was drowning, but each scripture I recited was a coin that gave me a moment of air. (Kind of like how Mario gets a few more bars of oxygen when he collects coins while swimming). The hope I got from these coins was what started to convince me I had a winning chance. With each phrase I could get out, the buzzing got louder and angrier. I felt my heart pound with fear, but also with hope. I continued to praise Jesus and mock Satan, reminding him that he had already lost. This seemed to piss off the presence. I exclaimed, “Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life!” The roar got louder. With newfound confidence, I yelled, “Get back, Satan!” My voice was weak, but the words were clear. I followed up with a butchered Latin phrase (some of the only Latin I really know), “Vade retro satana!” A shriek echoed in the room, making me cry—but out of hope, not fear. Finally, with one last push, I screamed, “Long live Christ the King!”

I instantly shot up from my bed, this time for real. My hand went to my chest, feeling my heart pounding. I dropped to my knees and wept, not out of panic, but out of immense gratitude and joy. When I began to pray, I said the name “Jesus” without any struggle, without any gasps for air. Hearing myself say it so clearly made me cry even more, knowing I had been set free. All I could do was repeat, "Thank you," over and over again until my breath ran out.

Sometimes it feels as if God isn’t there because we don’t get a verbal or direct message from him when we pray. But please, trust that He is there. Hell is real—a place where no cry for help can reach Him, where His saving hand will not come. Like I mentioned in Dante’s vision, the second circle is reserved for those who surrendered to the cravings of the flesh. Here, the damned are swept endlessly in a howling, human hurricane. They are tossed from side to side, drifting without rest, never allowed to stand firm. I can't even say what I experienced is a fraction of such captivity. Whatever you are struggling with, know that you are not alone. You have friends in the angels and saints who watch over you, and a loving God who has experienced pain, temptation, and loneliness in their most extreme forms. Jesus loves you and wants a relationship with you. Repent of whatever is tainting your soul and be clean. Every time we can pronounce His name is a blessing. Every step we can take, every heartbeat, every breath of air, and every bite of delicious food—it is because the Lord has allowed for it. Seek to learn more about Him for your salvation and for all those we know who need it. May the Lord Jesus Christ have mercy on all of us.

“Strive to enter through the narrow gate, for many, I tell you, will attempt to enter but will not be strong enough.” – Luke 13:24

P-P-P-Protein

    As I traverse the world of nutrition day by day; there's only one element of it that I truly understand; protein! I have a lot to learn when it comes to eating clean, but there's just something about the process of taking in protein that envelops me in delight whenever I eat. Now I may be wrong as to how much I require, or the effectiveness of the source, but my body takes it and builds off its makeup nonetheless. Let's be honest here, the wonders of protein don't sound nearly as exciting as carbs or fats. Protein is just that guy. With that out the way, here are my preferred sources of protein ranked in a YouTuber-like tier list. 

A Tier: Eggs, Lamb Chops, Chicken

    Eggs, eggs, eggs. What more can we say about these guys that hasn't been said? Regardless of the inflation; diners across America, and households urban, and rural alike need their eggs! Not to mention their track record in versatility; scrambled, sunny-side up, fried, omelet, over easy, poached, boiled- but how boiled? Soft, medium, hard, there's French-style, Ameri- man it just keeps on going! I love eggs, you love eggs, we all love eggs. Enough said. 

    Lamb is actually a meat I've only come to know recently. But even in the few times I've had the pleasure of eating it, I always felt like royalty. There's just something that wakes up inside of me when I peel the meat away from the hot bone with ease. I'm convinced this stuff can actually take away some of your hunger from just looking at it. Serve some of this with a side of steamed veggies, and mashed potatoes and you got yourself a meal fit for a king. Throw in some boiled eggs in there too while you're at it. 

    Besides the fact that chickens are decent people, these guys are the ones that make the eggs! That alone puts them in A Tier. Just like their offspring, they can be cooked in countless ways, and it never disappoints. There may actually be something fundamentally wrong with your cooking if you mess up with chicken. Please for everyone's sake, stay away from the kitchen if this is you. 

B Tier: Steak, Chobani Yogurt, Peanut Butter

    We all know A Tier is for the creme a le creme; but what about B Tier? Well, I like the sources of protein that are in this category too, but I feel a slight guilt come over me when I eat them. For example, steak; for those who don't know this is known as red meat. According to both nutritionists and doctors; the consumption of red meat is linked to cancer, heart disease, weight gain, and a whole range of nasty effects. Google says lamb is a red meat too, but I don't have it in me to accept that. I love a good steak, but the not-so-fun facts give me reason to keep my distance. But, whatever the experts say, I never let them ruin a carne asada for me.

    I only wish I had come across Greek yogurt sooner; many more of my burnt oatmeal days could've been saved. I think. Anyways, Chobani produces a myriad of flavors, and ways of consuming this stuff so you know they're not kidding around. Watch out for the products on the higher end of the sugar scale, and you should be in the clear. 

    My relationship with PB has been complicated, to say the least. There was one point in middle school when I thought I was allergic to this stuff! No one could really explain why the skin on my face was practically bubble wrap after eating a Jiff sandwich. All it took for me to recover was to take a three-month-long break from the food, and I was on my way. From then on I've had a PB phase every year, where each phase consisted of two months every year of me eating as many Jiff sandwiches as I could within twenty minutes or less. I ended this practice a while ago though because I found out peanut butter makes you fat, and fast! Out of the jar, and onto some bread, I can taste it with just having the thought in my head; it's peanut butter, a treat so sweet it is truly like no other.    

 
C Tier: Protein Powder, Tuna, Turkey

    If you mix in the right protein powder with the right coffee, the results will be fantastic. But it has to be iced coffee, or else your concoction will explode and you'll end up with unremovable coffee stains on your ceiling. Other than that, there are just better ways of taking in protein than by some artificial substance in a plastic pot or bag, cmon people. 

    Tuna is a great source of protein, if you're a loser. Seriously though, you need some mayonnaise or seasoning with tuna to get a kick out of it. No amount of protein from a certain source is justifiable enough to eat if there's no flavor. Similar to the powder, humans weren't designed to eat from cans. 

    Another culprit of lacking flavor is our friend Turkey. Sliced turkey is a different game, but a whole turkey? Unless you're Jeremy from Phineas and Ferb, or it's Thanksgiving; there is no great reason for eating Turkey. 

    I'd like you all to know that I have exaggerated my statements on some of these foods for comedic effect. These are all solid options of protein that should be given a shot and enjoyed in moderation. While you make some healthy choices today, I'll be on the lookout for the nutritional knowledge to come.

    Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. 

- 1 John 4:11

Goose Story

    Have you ever taken the time to concentrate on how someone walks? I'm not just talking about the style in how they move, but their pace, their cadence. Whenever I catch myself doing this, I look away for a few seconds, then turn back to see where the certain someone is again - and it gets me every time! Moments like these remind me that I still struggle with the thought of time moving along for all of us. 

    A few years ago, when taking a walk between classes; I noticed this goose in solitude; naturally, I wanted to get a closer look. It wasn't until I was within handshake distance of the goose that I learned the poor thing only had one leg! The sighting gave me cause to take a picture to remember the encounter. These actions felt like the only thing I could really do for the animal, apart from wiping away the tears that came out in my sympathy. 

    I just wonder where this goose may be. I wonder where my pet turtle Speedy is, considering how I released him in the wild. It's just brain-boggling to me that in the way we are forced to move forward, these creatures that are so vulnerable and pure; have to as well.

    This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. 

 - 1 John 4:10

Jonas would listen to Pink Floyd

    Way back in my days in middle school; I was assigned to someone who would excuse me from class and read me various kinds of books. I was never told explicitly why I was cut into this deal, but any questions I had were buried under the feeling of pride due to me being the only one. That feeling I got brought upon memories of fraternizing with the STEM groups in elementary school, being part of an exclusive team. Middle school was a very alienating period for me; so a little familiarity went a long way in uplifting my spirits. 

    In this case, it was only me, the Reader, and her book. With time, this pattern made me believe I was behind in some way. Mind you, I was left in the dark as to why I was even going through this; and even if I had been told, I'd forget so by now. Each session became less stimulating for me in my ever-increasing lack of interest. I failed to see the value in having someone read to me when I could've been in class with the other students. Regardless, the day came when the Reader told me she'd be leaving, and that she enjoyed having the chance to meet me. 

    Not much comes to mind when I brush up on this day, but what I can remember is that I was already in a sour mood before her announcement. Whether it might've been due to a cold, or a run-in with a bully; I can't remember. As she was getting ready to leave, she handed me a paperback of The Giver by Lois Lowry and said she hoped I'd give it a read. In my seat; my reaction, or lack thereof was quiet and cold. I'd like to think I at least said my goodbyes at that moment. 

    As the years passed by, the book collected dust, and my guilt for my behavior on that day grew. It took a long time, but I'm glad to share that I'm two days into the novel and nearly finished. I'm not sure why it took so long, so because of that, I don't think there's a need to squeeze some kind of life lesson into this story. If anything is certain; I'd take the time to apologize for being rude and give thanks to the Reader for sharing that time with me, even if I didn't see the value of it at the time. I understand now that some gifts take time to reveal their worth; but this experience, in particular, makes me think if there's anything I'm overlooking something in the present day. 

    This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. 

- 1 John 4:9

Picture Perfect, Also Not

    Look at the nature in this frame I took; the gray clouds don't sit perfectly between the two rocks. The rough edges of this canyon aren't identical, yet they're breathtaking. Nothing in this world is perfect, but it doesn't have to be. The very same rule applies to us. The little things we see as flaws; the uneven smile, stretch marks, and anything that can be sought in change, make us unique. These so-called imperfections are reminders that we are handcrafted and intentional the way we are. 

    In a world where every detail is observed and scrutinized, it can often feel like we are never enough. The faces upon us will never be symmetrical, our bodies won't ever match the exact look we imagine, and life won't ever align precisely with the plans we make. Despite all this, in God's eyes, we already fit within his design. The Bible states we are made in His image, in His love for us. Take a step back from the pressure to be impossibly more. See yourself through the eyes of God, who made you with care and purpose. Nothing will ever be "perfect" by human standards, yet everything is exactly as it should be. 

    Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.
- 1 John 4:8