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The Life and Times of a Filipino-American

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January 5, 2021 By Phillip Retuta

You Were The Best, Marissa Snoddy.

Marissa Snoddy: 1985 – 2021.

I just learned last night that my friend, Marissa, suddenly passed away about two days ago. Talking to our mutual friend, Margarita, she just felt dizzy one day and collapsed.

Marissa was one of the funniest people I knew back in Chicago, and she always had a joke to tell. She always humorously put our friend Erick into place, and I remember when she got hit on by some drunk dude, and uninterested by his persistent advances, Marissa chewed him out. I remember when our group of friends would head into the city from our respective suburban homes to hang out, dance, or just go bar-hopping. She loved going to gay bars in Boystown or dancing at Debonair Social Club in Lincoln Park. I remember when Obama got inaugurated, Marissa and the Aurora crew came over to my house to watch it on TV, she slipped on some ice, and we then got drunk off Smirnoff (don’t worry, Margarita was the designated driver).

Marissa was super creative, a great poet and writer, and when we all parted ways a few years later, she moved to San Francisco to become an art therapist. Even today, we would occasionally talk once in awhile over Facebook or Instagram, giving the obligatory “Happy Birthday” or “How’ve you been?” to friends who’ve moved so far away but still made an impact in your life.

I’m in shock, and I can’t believe you’re gone so soon. You will be so missed, Marissa.

Filed Under: Chicago, Friends

December 20, 2020 By Phillip Retuta

A History of Cigarettes.

Age 25, smoking indoors (I know it’s awful), with Allan’s fist.

I remember I had my first cigarette ever during my sophomore year of college. After a successful Walmart run with my roommate Mike, we were walking back to our dorm room in the middle of winter. Trudging through the snow, he lit a cigarette and offered me one. I haven’t seen Mike smoke before, but he had just broken up with his long-term, long-distance girlfriend a few days prior. A part of me felt some pity for him, and I figured I’d join him — even if I didn’t inhale but let the smoke gather in my cheek.

I started smoking casually at age 24, while living in Chicago. On weekends I’d go to bars, and I remember chain-smoking outside The Burlington or The Flatiron with Margarita (she’s a mom now) or Bryan (I think he grew up to be a firefighter) or a guy named Tre (who the fuck knows where he is now). During the day, however, nothing; I had no desire to have a cigarette or even buy a pack. I suppose I just wanted to fit in.

By the time I was 26, I moved to New York City for grad school, at Parsons. It was during this new phase in my life that I started to really smoke cigarettes. The stress of school, being away from family and trying to meet new people, and the coolness and blasé attitude of Williamsburg circa 2009 consciously willed me to smoke. Smoking a cigarette gave me that solitude, that little “me time” to gather my thoughts, realize how lonely and overwhelmed I felt, and look like a total badass (though no one did see me smoke on the roof of my old apartment). By the time I knew it, I was addicted to cigarettes.

When I’d visit my parents during the holidays, I wanted to preserve the impression of the “perfect, youngest child” and avoided smoking around them. My parents saw me as the baby of the family and “the successful one,” and deep down I never want to disappoint them. I’d wait for them to go to bed, where I’d then sneak into the backyard and light a cigarette (mind you, I’m in my late 20’s by then). After I was done, I’d toss the butt onto the roof, where it would collect into the gutter. My parents have since moved, but God knows — if the new owners of the house cleaned the gutters — how many cigarette butts they’d find.

It wasn’t always clandestine cigarette breaks, Dylan-esque moments of reflection, or (forgive me) smoke-and-mirrors. I can recall four instances when I quit smoking for long periods of time:

  1. During 2010, where I began to feel physically ill. Nauseous. Weird stomach problems. I didn’t know what was the cause, nor did I ever go to a doctor — I didn’t have health insurance then. As a self-remedy, I quit smoking for 5 months and even became a vegetarian. I relapsed into meat and nicotine during grad school finals.
  2. During 2012, when my doctor told me my blood pressure was elevated. I didn’t touch cigarettes for 7 months, and I even had an app to track how long I didn’t smoke. One day, during a time where I was laid off and relying on Unemployment checks (and quite frankly, I was just bored), I bought a pack of cigarettes for the hell of it. Big mistake.
  3. 2016.
  4. In early 2020, for 2 months I didn’t have any cigarettes. I was on the anti-smoking aid Chantix, and it helped immensely: I was slowly and surely weening off nicotine, and after cutting down on cigarettes for months, I was eventually smoke-free for 60 days. Psychologically and physically, I was in a good place; for once, I was on the path to feeling healthy. However, the first COVID-19 case came to New York, and as each day passed, more and more co-workers refused to come into the office. The news and the virus itself spread quickly, till one day it was just me and a fellow co-worker at our desks. We both knew that we’ll be working from home indefinitely, so I packed my work iMac and anything I needed. In the back of my mind, I also feared getting laid off again or furloughed (ahem). It was then that I decided to buy a pack of American Spirits — not as strong as my go-to Parliaments or Camel Blues, but enough to “de-stress” me and give me time to think. With my work stuff ready to be transported into an Uber, I stepped outside of my office to clear my head and have a cigarette. Yes, I started smoking again when the pandemic hit.

If it’s any blatant indication, I smoke when I’m stressed out or worried. Like my college roommate Mike who had just gone through a breakup, I turned to cigarettes as a coping mechanism. Again, despite the contrary and all scientific evidence, having a cigarette by myself calms me; I’m able to gather my thoughts, contemplate everything, and enjoy the quiet solitude. It’s psychological: I like being alone sometimes, and I guess nothing drives people away than the smell of cigarettes.

Recently, however, I was feeling ill — like, really, really ill: tightness and small pains in my chest, feeling dizzy and almost blacking out. My blood pressure was dangerously high. Constant tests had ruled out COVID-19, so I know it was my heart and blood pressure, and I know my diet and especially my smoking had become detrimental to my health. I’m getting older, and my habits were killing me. It was time for change (again).

So, as of this writing and as I’m chewing some expired nicotine gum, I haven’t touched a cigarette in over two weeks.

I don’t know, as fatalistic as I can be, I want to be there for my parents, my brother, my friends, and especially my dog. I figured quitting smoking (hopefully for good) will extend my life a little longer, so I can be with this puppy (I don’t want to smoke around Dusty, and a part of me feels my smoking gave Nico her cancer). I’d have a lot of regret leaving behind my family and friends, but I’d feel even more guilty for a dog — a creature wholly dependent on me — to be left alone without her owner.

I know for a fact that my blood pressure has returned to normal since I stopped smoking (I have a blood pressure kit at home, and I just came back from my primary care physician), and I’m saving so much money on not buying my usual pack or two a week. Working from home and self-isolating is also relieving a lot of stress, especially now that I’m full-time again and my social obligations are sparse. Who knows? Maybe with this pandemic and with this dog (and yes, with this expired nicotine gum), I’ll finally quit smoking for good. Wish me luck, but if I can handle and mediate my anxieties (and hey, writing on this blog is a perfect outlet), I think I’ll be fine.

Filed Under: Chicago, Dusty Doggerton, Family, Home Life, Memories, Ramblings, Work

May 7, 2020 By Phillip Retuta

Throwback Thursday: Music That Inspired Me To Move To New York.

This is a photo from June 2008, when I wanted to move to NYC. The caption reads, “Ate three fortune cookies leftover from a Chinese restaurant. Considering my search for a job and my desire to eventually move to New York, these fortunes are awfully succinct. They’re cryptic, yes, but we’ll see…”

I couldn’t sleep a few days ago. I was lying on my bed, sifting through my personal thoughts, and I fell into a rabbit hole of music that inspired me to move to New York City.

I remember, back before I graduated and was living in Urbana-Champaign, of the new music I’d listened to. I remember going into Postal Service, a record shop on Green Street, and buying particular CDs of indie artists I’d discover on MTV2. I remember, after graduating and returning home, of all the bands I’d blog about on my old (and fairly popular) music blog. I remember going to Chicago to see all the bands that were finally getting the spotlight they deserve. Most of all, I remember how all this music made me dream to move to New York.

I wanted to live in Williamsburg, Brooklyn (I did). I wanted to experience the hip and cool culture of artists and musicians (I did — before that lifestyle got phased out/priced out by everyone else wanting the same thing). I wanted to meet some of these bands and buy them a beer (I did, for some). Many years later, I now reflect that I achieved that foolish, Bohemian dream of being cool and artistic and binging on Parliament cigarettes and cheap-ass beer.

Here are some of the native New York bands that, in my youth as an undergrad and a recent grad in Illinois, would want me to make a life-altering decision to move to one of the greatest cities in the world, to shape my future as a creative and moderately successful adult:

The Strokes
I recall watching this video when it premiered on MTV2. They were careless, carefree, and cool — like a bunch of drunks. They epitomized the NYC indie scene and were constant fodder for my music blog that made fun of hipsters. I loved (and still love) them.

Interpol
Another essential NYC indie band. I’ve seen them at several festivals in Chicago, and their first album (an encapsulation of New York) was always played when my old friend Jeff (who I created a comic character and subsequent blog about) and me would hang out in Urbana-Champaign.

Yeah Yeah Yeahs
I saw this “Buzzworthy” video late one night in undergrad. I loved the song, and I love the video — so much so, that I made a still of Karen O crying as my computer background. Everything about “Maps” was so raw and beautiful, and I became a fan of theirs for years to come. I even remember buying Fever to Tell at Postal Service and when I moved back home, going to several of their shows at Chicago’s Metro and Vic Theater. When I eventually moved to NYC, I’d still catch some of their shows — of course, they got even bigger, and I had to pay a little bit more to see them.

TV on the Radio
TVOTR have always been so cool and had a sound I never heard before. They were definitely Williamsburg mainstays, and I recall meeting lead singer Tunde Adebimpe at a bar when I first moved to New York.

The Walkmen
When I heard their song “We’ve Been Had” in a car commercial, I had to find out who these guys were. Plus, their refined sense of collared shirts and sweaters inspired my own style back in the day: a preppy hipster who enjoys a glass of whiskey (and I admit, I still am).

The French Kicks
In a similar vein to The Walkmen. I remember seeing this video late one night in undergrad, when I should have been writing an English paper. After graduation, I saw them perform at Schuba’s Tavern in Chicago.

Asobi Seksu
They introduced me to the shoegaze sound. The video for “Thursday” inspired some stop-motion work from me, and each time I hear this song, I get nostalgic — as if running through the city. I saw them live at the Highland in Urbana-Champaign with The Appleseed Cast, and after their set I gave lead singer Yuki Chikudate a cigarette.

stellastarr*
When they debuted this video, I went to Postal Service to pick up their album. Their New Wave-y sound introduced me to actual New Wave. As far as I can tell they never amounted to much after their first album, but “My Coco” and “Jenny” were on repeat while walking on campus.

Elefant
Another garage rock band from NYC. It was such an underrated album in comparison to The Strokes or The Bravery. Even today, when I hear “Misfit” or “Now That I Miss Her,” I’m reminded of those dumb aspirations to become a famous artist/designer in NYC.

The Secret Machines
Their music always pumped me up before going out in Urbana-Champaign or Chicago. “First Wave Intact” had an energy, the kind that prepared me for something — something ambitious.

School of Seven Bells
Another project by the late Benjamin Curtis of Secret Machine fame, their dreamy music always made me feel good. After watching this video as a kid in Chicago, there was this magical yearning of riding in a cab throughout New York City. And now I’ve ridden in a cab throughout NYC; it’s not as magical anymore.

The Rapture
I remember seeing this video on MTV2 and absolutely loving it. The post-punk visuals and catchy sounds were what made me think what it’s like to live in Brooklyn. And it’s true, circa 2009.

LCD Soundsystem
Like The Strokes, Interpol, TVOTR, and the YYYs, LCD Soundsystem is the definition of the New York music scene in the mid to late 2000’s. His song, “All My Friends,” was my anthem as a young adult, and the music video for “Someone Great” is what I envisioned living in Brooklyn was like: bodegas, comfortable squalor, and rooftop parties (and yeah, I threw my share of rooftop parties when I first moved to New York). His album, Sound of Silver, is everything I had hoped for and had lived through when I came to NYC. If anything, listening to James Murphy definitely prepared me to live in this city and molded my love of electronic and electroclash music.

Filed Under: Chicago, Memories, Music, New York City, Ramblings

November 3, 2016 By Phillip Retuta

Cubs Win!

cubs_win1

I’m not a die-hard Cubs fan (but I liked them more than the Sox), but I’m glad they were able to win the 2016 World Series after 108 years. We watched the final game at Rustine and Amanda’s (a fellow Chicagoan) apartment, and accompanied by all my friends who’ve grown up in Illinois. To be perfectly honesty, I think it’s the Cubs hat I wore and the deep dish pizza from Emmett’s that secured the W.

cubs_win2

Filed Under: Chicago, Food, Friends

    Welcome


Born 1983. Art Director, UX/UI and Digital Designer. Illustrator. Dog Owner. Coffee Enthusiast. Pizza Lover.

I love over-thinking the simplest of things and making stuff at every waking moment: comics, food, videos, photos... you name it. This blog is a record of my work, my exploits, and my philosophical, political, and psychological ideologies. So enjoy reading my dumb ideas and inane rants that I'd otherwise be ashamed to verbally speak out in public.

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  • Phillip N. Retuta#365 2022.08.16: Meeting AR Companies in Meetings All Day. https://t.co/p3vFRz1G38, 7 hours ago
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Recent Posts

  • A Culture of Observation, Post-2016.
  • New Beginnings.
  • Done With This Apartment.
  • Thoughts on Dying, Death, and the Leftovers.
  • To Be Vaccine and Heard.
  • Nico Calendar 2021.
  • You Were The Best, Marissa Snoddy.
  • Ugly Americans: All Your Base Belongs to Suck.
  • Thoughts on 2020 and New Years Resolutions.
  • Ghosts, Gangsters, Vampires, and Weed: Favorite TV Shows of 2020.

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