Chum Bucket: It's a small world after all.

I'm not quite too sure exactly how I became chums with Don Surlylight.  We had some classes together at college, but I can't remember our first conversations and other stuff like that.  I don't even think we had any group projects that would have drawn us together.

He didn't play an instrument but I remember him being at my basement while I was jamming with my other friends.  I don't think we even liked the same music because I remember him being into that emo shit.  The only thing we really had in common is that we are both Filipino.  I vaguely remember some classmate presenting a video about heritage that I liked, so it may have been him and I may have complimented him.

I remember specifically another classmate named Noah Shark, who pretty much became friends with me because we were both from the Philippines.  Now that I think about it, he probably introduced us or something.  But the point was that after Little Lost Guy went back to Ecuador, I was suddenly hanging out with Don Surlylight, talking about projects and girls and whatnot.

One Spring day in 2004, we spontaneously decided to look into getting internships.  So we walked over to this building to inquire.  We were told to wait, and we sat down on the couch in the department's office (I forget the name: Job Placement?  Career Development?  Iono, something).  Anyways, I was seated facing out the door, and across from us was the reception desk for the Advisement Center.  It was one of those funny serendipity things because Don was right next to me, and his eye line was towards the wall and mine was towards what was an empty chair behind the desk at the time.

We were waiting for a while, but I wasn't complaining because a beautiful girl came by and occupied that empty chair at the reception desk across from me.

Chum Bucket: Half moon fever.

My elementary school burned down the day after my last day of fifth grade.  The rumor was that some irate parent set fire to it because his or her kid flunked and had to repeat.  My dad woke me up in the middle of the night and asked me to climb a wall of our house.  Our town had no big buildings, and I could see something glowing towards the town center.  We then jumped onto his motorcycle and drove towards the light.

We didn't have a highly skilled or equipped fire department, or police, for that matter, and I, along with the rest of the crowd was able to stand literally a few feet away from the burning edifice and watch the fire consume it.  I bumped into a couple of friends that night.  I think Steve Landsteamer and Bertie Sanchez were there, along with one or two more.

It's funny how we didn't really feel bad about it or anything.  We just stood there and gazed in shock and awe.  The next morning we even went back there and ventured in the ashes.  Not once do I remember any of us expressing any mournfulness or joy at the destruction.  Kids just don't think too much about that stuff, I guess.

I didn't put much thought into it, either, when my parents decided that I should go to another school in the sixth grade.  My oldest brother was attending college at a city about an hour or two away from our town, and they had an elementary and high school there as well.  I didn't protest.  I didn't think about missing my friends or the neighborhood.  Things had already changed at home anyway, because my mom had gone away to work in America near the end of my fourth grade.

Chum Bucket: On a roll.

The last time I saw my childhood chums as kids, a bunch of the boys were hanging out by the bus stop.  I walked by and they asked me to spend the afternoon with them.  I asked what they were up to.  They said once the next bus leaves, they would climb on the side and ride to the next town.

I asked how they planned to get back.  They said they would wait for another bus to pass or walk.  I said, maybe next time, and I went on my way.  I don't remember where I was headed to.  I regret saying to to them now.  They probably would have jumped off after a couple of blocks anyway.

We were in the sixth grade at the time and I had transferred to a different school.  I was back in town for the weeked.  Apparently that's what they had been up to for a while, and they had done it before.  I never expected that I wouldn't see them again for ten years.

Chum Bucket: Connie Lingus.

I mentioned yesterday that I moved to America in the sixth grade.  I exchanged some letters with my friend Steve Landsteamer, and I think he shared it with some of our chums in class.  One of them decided to write me as well.  That was Connie Lingus, and we actually became pretty good pen pals.

Now since she's female, I'd like to clarify that I never sensed any romantic interest from her.  Either that, or I was just too dense and didn't notice it.  For my part, I never looked at her that way even since grade school.

Connie turned out to be one of those people who kept the friends together.  Some of us moved away or went to different schools, and she pretty much kept in touch with everybody.  If anybody wondered how someone somewhere was doing, the first person you would ask was Connie.

In the Philippines, kids generally don't go to seventh and eighth grade.  They go straight to high school after grade six.  This is mostly due to economics to save parents and schools money.  Kids are given more freedom and more responsibility at an earlier age.

Connie wrote to me about our friends, about projects, classroom antics and everything else.  She shared about all the adventures they would go on, about road trips and spending the night at the beach.  I was very jealous of them.  I wished I could have been there with me.  Meanwhile, they probably thought I was having a great time living in the United States.  But it was very lonely for me.

Chum Bucket: Carmen Getit.

I wrote about my best buddies in grade school yesterday, so today I decided to write about the girls.  What better place to start than my first crush, Carmen Getit.  Carmen was this pretty girl who actually became the school queen or something year after year when we've had those fund-raising things.  She was the Valentine queen or something like that.  She was also always voted the class muse.

We sat at the same table in the first grade, and this really dumb friend of mine, whose name I forget, would tease her from time to time.  In the town where I grew up, kids and teachers are dismissed at noon for the lunch hour, and one day my friend and I followed her home.  After a few blocks, my friend lost heart and we turned back.  But I remember really wanting to keep going.

For years I paid no attention to other girls because I just remember knowing that I wanted Carmen to be my girlfriend.  It was just my idea of love, I guess.  I also thought my older brothers were meant to be with their girlfriends at the time.  So at a very early age, I was already holding a torch for someone.

I never did anything about it.  I mean, I was a kid, you know.  I think if I didn't grow up with two older brothers, I wouldn't have even thought about girls like that.  I think she liked me back, though.  She used to run her fingers through my hair.  Then she would say something like, "I like running my fingers through your hair."  And I would just stand there blushing, but enjoying every moment of it.

I remember for a while, we would be alone at the schoolyard with her cousin and my brother at the end of the day.  My brother would take me on his bike and ride by her and tell her I liked her.  Then she and her cousin would laugh.  One day I was playing around with my brother and as I was running, I fell right in front of her.  I got this big gash on my knee from it.  It was embarrassing and my brother laughed.  I think Carmen was concerned though.

Around the third or fourth grade, there was a time when all the boys acted like jerks to all the girls.  We would run around shouting that they had AIDs and stuff like that.  I remember Carmen getting mad at me and lecturing me while poking me in the chest repeatedly.  I just stood there not saying anything back.  And enjoying every moment of it.  That was the closest I ever got to her.

Kids our age in our town didn't "hook up", as the kids these days would say.  I don't remember anybody being anybody's boyfriend or girlfriend until I left and went to America in the sixth grade.  Then everybody here was watching "Beverly Hills 90210" and talking about dating and stuff.  That change was always confusing for me.  I didn't know whether it was an age thing or a cultural thing.

Chum Bucket: Gordon Schauer.

This is going to be about more than one person.  These will be some of the early friends that I can remember from childhood, as well as some who were close friends for a while and then quickly forgotten.  I will share some real names for those whose last names I don't know and overall only vaguely remember.  This is so that I don't confuse myself by giving them aliases.

First off, the title character, Gordon Schauer.  When we were in second grade, the teacher was talking about best friends.  Gordon was sitting next to me, and we said to each other, "Do you want to be best friends?"  And we agreed.  For years after that, I always thought Gordon and I were best friends.  I didn't feel that.  I just thought it.  Now, we never hated each other or anything, but we never became very close either.  It's just that the label always stuck to my head.

When I look back to elementary school, the guy that kind of stands out for me as a best friend type was Steve Landsteamer.  We were in every class from first to fifth grade.  I believe we may have been in kindergarten together as well, but that's too hazy for me now.  We used to ride our bikes everywhere together.  One memory that always stands out is me riding with him on his bike by this store in the marketplace place called The G Spot and he was singing this song about finding an ugly girl to marry you.

Anyways, this was the kid with whom I skipped class together, ventured to the outskirts of town together and even peed outdoors together.  We joined the drum corps and the baseball team also.  I believe he joined the Cub Scouts, too.  I think every kid did.  But I'm pretty sure he wasn't in the folk dancing group with me.

Chum Bucket: Mona Lott.

I received a text message not too long ago from Mona Lott.  She was updating her contacts and asked if it was still me on that number.  I ignored it.  I've just had it with some people.  With most people actually.  It's just my personality, I'm afraid.  I put up with people for so long, and then all of a sudden I'm done.

It's partly my fault because I don't say anything.  It's what frustrates my wife sometimes.  I keep to myself when I'm mad about something and still expect people to change anyway.

Maybe I should have told Mona that she talks too much about people and that she's too self-absorbed.  Too many years have passed since we became friends in high school and it's just a little too late now, I think.  If I saw her on the street, I would probably say hello and move on, but I don't feel much like chatting on the phone or online about mostly her life while she largely ignores mine.

The last straw really came about a year ago after my son was born.  She had her daughter a couple of months before, and I remember her emailing me pictures of her daughter Wynona Lott*.  When my son Rocky* came, I made sure I emailed her pictures of him as well, and I put on the subject line, "Here's Rocky!"

*fake names

Chum Bucket: As a whole.

I mentioned yesterday that I played the drums.  I have always appreciated that instrument even before knowing Kevin.  When I was in college, I finally saved up some money and bought my own set.

After a couple of years, I had been a part of a bunch of different groups and playing different genres.  This entry is about a specific band of which I had so much hope.  I don't mind sharing the name, which is Distane.  Yes, that's what we ended up calling ourselves.  Sometimes people would ask what it meant, and we would tell them it didn't mean anything.  Then they would say, doesn't it mean being far away?  I would say, no, you're thinking of "distance".  This name was picked out of the blue because it was supposedly unique and sounded like "disdain" and people would be curious about it and remember it.

As for the actual members, I will give them fake names.  I don't even actually remember their last names.  I don't think any of us knew each other's last names actually.

On lead vocals, here is Mick Jagoff.  On guitar is Keith Bitchhard.  On bass is Ron Wouldifhecouldbuthecant.  And me, I'm on drums.

Chum Bucket: A funny guy.

Well, this is the guy I really had in mind when I thought of writing these entries.  Unlike the rest of these other chums I will be writing about in the future, I will actually share his real name.  This is because, first, I have nothing but good things to say about him.  Secondly, I wouldn't mind if he stumbles upon this blog and we get in touch again.

I was a pretty meek and shy kid until the 10th grade.  I was working at a summer camp and hated the noise in our cabin so a few of us moved out nextdoor into an empty one.  A few days later, one of the head counselors comes in and looks around to see if there's room there.  With him is a kid with dreadlocks and very confident attitude.  Swagger, as they say.  Great.  We pretty much escaped from the trouble in the other place and this new kid is coming in here.  So my first impression of Kevin Hunter wasn't a good one.  To add to that, we later found out he came there late because he pretty much had to be convinced by that counselor, who was his uncle, to spend the summer there so he doesn't get into trouble where he lived.

He didn't move in with us though.  He took a spot in the other cabin.  One night, I couldn't sleep because this hardcore music was blasting from next door.  I get up to investigate and find him riding his bike indoors and trying wheelies.  Meanwhile, he apparently brought with him a huge amplifier to play his songs.  When he saw me, he smiled and asked, "Do you listen to hardcore?"  I said no.

And then I don't remember the specifics of the conversation but he turned out to be so amicable that I couldn't help but get along with him.  I came there to complain and yell but I ended up making a friend instead.  I remember talking about Rage Against the Machine, Korn, Tool, Helmet and more.  I told him I liked bands like Pearl Jam, Stone Temple Pilots and Smashing Pumpkins.  He said he didn't like Billy Corgan's voice.

I really liked his positive attitude about everything.  When somebody would joke with him, or even insult him, he would just say, "You're a funny guy" and brush it off.  For a while there, I tried that approach, but eventually grew out of it.  It just wasn't me.

I also took a lot of other things from him.  I started listening to heavier music and even bought and wore band t-shirts for the first time.  He played drums and eventually, years later, so did I.  But more importantly, I started to be more outgoing and generally stopped being so negative, pessimistic and cynical.

The previous year, I made money by writing essays for classmates.  It wasn't hard actually.  I just took my own assignment and dumbed it down.  I liked making money quickly, and I was really focused on it.  I also lied habitually for no real reason.  For example, I used to stay home on Mondays because I simply didn't want to go to school.  I got my classmates to believe that I was getting psychotherapy and that's why I was always out on that day.  I never got into trouble for my days off.

Things were different in junior year.  I tried to get to know everyone, which was fairly easy because we weren't a huge high school.  The freshmen, I think, especially liked me.  But then again, they were freshmen.  Also, I took a course in video production and made sure I could come on every field trip to shoot it.  I even tried to run for school president but lost.  That was something I would have been too afraid to try the previous years.  My grades weren't as good as they had been, but I was happier.

I credit Kevin for that change in me.  I did come to work at the summer camp to get a different insight on life, but I think my friend was the catalyst for that.  I always thought I would be back there the next year, but it didn't happen.  I never met him again, along with many other people I became chums with there.

I'll probably write about them as well.

Chum Bucket: Final cut bro.

The second installment of "Chum Bucket" is really the first installment of a new section I call "Final Cut Bro".  Here I will post about being a Video Editor and give advice about workflow efficiency, maintaining client relationships, and the media arts field in general.  I will also share some stories from the editing room hoping that you'll enjoy them and so that I don't forget about them.

So how do these two sections of my blog meet?  Because this business is dog-eat-dog, and you don't really have chums.  You might get along with people in your field, and you might enjoy their company, but when  you really get down to it, everyone is looking out for themselves.

And you better learn this quick.  This area is very competitive, and it makes a lot of people shady.  There are a lot of people I could write about but for now, I will only focus on one individual.  There will be time enough for the others.

This person I will call Joe Nosay.  Why?  Because that's the best I could come up with at the moment.

Chum Bucket: Leonard Nimrod.

So this is where I write about people who have come and gone in my life.  And some who have stayed.  For these entries, I will focus on a certain associate.  A friend.  A chum, as they say.  Sometimes I will remember him or her fondly.  Sometimes I will vent some frustrations.

I will use a fake name for each pal.  I'm not sure why.  No one reads this blog, let alone anyone who might know me.  But o-welles.

The first person I chose, which totally surprises me, is, as the title states, Leonard Nimrod.  It surprises me, because I had somebody else in mind to start with when I first thought of this section of my blog.  But also, he is my brother.  And no, I'm not about to say that he ain't heavy because he wasn't easy to get along with.  We haven't spoken in years.

My wife was cooking dinner the other night, and she said something that made me want to joke around that she was hoarding food, or somebody was hoarding food or something.  But I stopped.  Suddenly an old memory came to mind.  And then a few more on top of it.