Plain, Without a Need to Explain

Awhile ago, I took a side trip with Avery to the clothing store at Mile Hi near the Manor in Camp John Hay, Baguio to buy clothes. Since I wasn't able to have some of my clothes laundered, I had to buy extra clothes to make it through tomorrow. After looking at a few shirts on display, I opted to get the plain t-shirts that were for sale.


Later tonight when I was wearing one of the shirts I bought (I know, I know -- unhygienic), I realized that I wish I was as low-maintenance as these tees. Simple, unencumbered, and free. No embellishments, no dramas, and no distractions.


I think it's time I embraced who I really am -- the me before I went through that phase when I realized that being me was the ultimate boredom. Maybe it's the right moment to go back and re-assess the things I truly am before I craved for affirmation from others.

Somewhere along the way I think I took a wrong turn and thought that having people tell me my worth would actually prove my worth. But I don't think it works that way. I should learn to be more assured of who I really am instead of trying to have people praise me. It's never that fulfilling anyway. The more I fill myself of these empty words, the easier I'll crumble. I don't need that.

I just need to be myself. Plain and simple. I don't need attention. I should be just happy being me.

Eagle-eye Vision is for Eagles

Sometimes, the key to happiness is delayed knowledge. At times, you only need to know enough to get you through the day, through the hour, through the minute, through the second. Just your portion to get you to survive for the moment -- nothing more.

It's the metaphor of the miracle of manna. I'm not big on the Bible and I believe that it's not holier than the next bestselling Coelho out there but it does have a number of beautiful metaphors to encourage you to go on with life. This Old Testament story of sustenance given to wandering Jews is an example. And the lesson is to take it one day at a time -- never to worry too much about what the future holds.

You only need enough to last you for the present; any more, and you sink in a downward spiral of madness. The future will come. The universe will expand at its own pace. Nothing you can do can make it can go any faster or slower. Everyone should exist to enjoy every breath, and take delight in the little servings of happiness whenever it comes. People need to be in the moment. When in grief, be sad. When angry, explode. You can always be sorry afterwards; you can make up for it later on. People will always affect people. To step out of one's emotions is to cease to be human. You shouldn't shortchange yourself of the experience by being too analytical, by being too calculating, by being too sly and paranoid about the next move.

You only need to guide yourself with love. I agree with a friend's recent post in Facebook: everything expires. You can't stop degradation or destruction. Again, the law of entropy will always lead us to disorder and disaster. But if you let love guide you, then you can make things better whatever the circumstance offers on your plate. Maybe you'll die before science even discovers human immortality, but in any case, if you did things passionately, step by step, everything will be all right when it's your turn to go.

Despite how I make broad strokes with these life statements, I think I am writing grains of truth. I won't declare it as canon law though. Things after all are different for everyone. But just for the sake of sanity, I will do this little by little. Baby steps. I'm not perfect just like everybody else. And just like everybody else I want to be alive. I don't understand what life really means and its OK. Nobody does and nobody will.

It's ok. It's just the way it is. I'm closing my eyes to the big picture. For today I only want the now.

Melancholy Vagabond

I'm currently at a hotel somewhere in Pampanga for the first stop-over of the anti-cervical cancer cycling tour I'm covering for work. Sitting by the foot of the bed, typing like crazy is my accounts officer-slash-friend. The television is on, and showing right this very moment is a Vin Diesel action flick that neither of us is watching. The window to my right frames an afternoon sky where the wind makes the trees wave slowly.

Awhile ago, while taking a bath, I thought about how hotel rooms radiate a certain sadness. I thought how, for a moment, you take temporary residence in a strange, unfamiliar place and try to feel at home inside a room where many have settled in as well. Before you came in, these strange people also found comfort within the four corners you now familiarize yourself with. And like these people, you will have to leave this room, along with traces of yourself, and after you another person will check in and leave his or her own memories inside this room as well.

Call it a metaphor for how I see relationships. Maybe that's the thing why I find hotel rooms bittersweet: it's because of the memories each of these spaces left with me -- of lovers found and lovers lost, a meeting and a parting, kisses and then goodbyes.

People are like rooms, their hearts are beds you bury yourself in -- only to wake up one day and discover that you are no longer welcome, or you were never welcome to begin with. You are only a transient in these rooms, but you hope that maybe, just maybe, one of those rooms will be home.

But they are not your home: the only home you have is your own heart.

(But it doesn't mean you can't steal the toiletries inside the hotel bathroom as souvenirs)

if there's one part of your body that you want to change, what would it be?

Hmmm. My eyes I guess. I find being myopic uncomfortable.

Or my thyroid gland. I wish I had a perfectly-functioning one from birth so I didn't have to get surgery for it. Now I have to take hormone supplements for a lifetime.

I'm so indecisive. Meh.

The only stupid questions are those you do not ask. So ask!

it's me :-) glad to know you're great. are you busy?

Me who? I'm not psychic, haha -- what's your name?

Yes, I've been quite busy. I just got promoted (yay!) and I need to step up and be more responsible. I'm thinking on how to improve my writing, as well as find more venues to get my writing out there, like the upcoming Palanca Awards.

This weekend, I'm doing a coverage outside of Manila. I'm excited because it's for an anti-cervical cancer advocacy. While this will take me away from my work-out routine, it'll also be my first out-of-town coverage that'll span days so I guess I should be more happy than frustrated.

So what have you been doing lately? :-)

The only stupid questions are those you do not ask. So ask!

how are you? :-)

I'm great.

Who's this? :-D

The only stupid questions are those you do not ask. So ask!

Jeeps Like White Elephants

I am a self-confessed public transportation junkie. Apart from the fact that my love for commuting spares pedestrians from my maniacal driving and allows me to rest during precious transit time (while saving the planet too), I am utterly convinced that riding buses, trains, commuter vans, and the like helps me stay connected with people. It gives me moments to observe the bittersweet complexity of human existence -- the many frustrations and little joys of the daily goings-on of the middle-class life.

But if there is one thing I loathe about commuting in the metropolitan jungle we call Metro Manila (aside from the slow-paced traffic and greedy bus operators who think maximum loading capacities are mere polite suggestions), it is the outdated, non-aerodynamic, clunky, noisy, and smoke-belching public utility vehicle popularly known as the jeepney.

I will not deny that I ride it almost everyday. But that won't stop me from rallying against it. This tin can of death is an invitation to disaster every time it rages like a maniacal mechanical pitbull in heat on the streets -- haphazardly weaving without care for fellow vehicles or pedestrians.

In an era of sustainability, eco-friendliness, and human advancement, nothing says "I'm a death sentence to the planet straight from the Mesozoic Transportation Era" more than the jeepney. It's funny how we even showcase it to tourists, who can only help but smile and wonder silently why this piece of junk is a source of pride to anyone (until they realize that they are, after all, in the Philippines.)

But then, before someone brings up that there are actually foreigners who find it charming, take note that it is likely the same way they find "Slumdog Millionaire"'s deplorable poverty charming too. Which makes their outbursts of awe and glee for the jeepney more of a mockery to our state of existence than a compliment to our ingenuity. (And ingenuity, please! The jeepney hasn't evolved much since the war!)

I hope they phase this out soon. To start, the government should mandate that those still in the jeepney manufacturing business should cease their productions in the next three years. Considering the jeepney's life expectancy, that would mean PUJs would be gone by 2025. And while that gradually happens, the government should already plan to intensify alternative means of transportation (thus, more trains!)

I seriously can't wait. I dream to see the day that the only jeepneys I'll see will be the ones on display inside museums. Good riddance!

This, my friends, is what Manila is to foreigners.

Yawn

Goodnight, sleepyhead.

Secede to Succeed

"Evan is an engineer. He always got straight A's in school and excelled in subjects like math and biology. Evan is usually rejected socially because of his greasy hair and thick glasses. Do you wear glasses?!"

- from "You Can Be Anything! An Anti-Inspirational Guide to Adulthood" by Sarah Montague

In my pursuit for the maximum happiness and human experience, I am slowly accepting (slowly is the key word) that it is nearly impossible to be able to succeed in everything I aim to do.

And it's not just because of my own limitations. The world and circumstances create boundaries that hinder me from doing the best in everything I wish to be. Prejudices and skepticism are boxes that I cannot escape, and whether I convince myself that everything is all in the head, I don't think it's always valid to say that I can fit into different roles in a single lifetime. (Case in point: I don't think I've ever met, or will ever encounter, an ex-pornstar president or a cross-eyed quadriplegic catwalk model.)

Not to discriminate of course. This universe has its share of people who were able to fulfill different characters (like that racer Rael who's now the founder/leader of a UFO religion), but I really believe that those who managed to excel in their fields were the ones who remained focused in a single endeavor. As much as I think this shortchanges me of the experience that I crave for, I'm at the crossroad wherein I'm deciding whether or not I should settle for a single path and be the best in that, or remain stubborn and try to dedicate my life doing everything even if it might eventually mean I cannot gain recognition in those fields.

I think my indecisiveness about this stems from the fact that I still adhere to the concept that nothing is impossible. While the tagline works as a nice inspirational tug-at-the-heart slogan, I have to face the fact that I can't have it all and for every decision I make, I have to make sacrifices and learn to endure the consequences of these choices. It's irritating of course to hit that brick wall of mortality when I'm utterly convinced (in my megalomania) that I can do everything (as I've said, accepting this is a sloooooow process), but really by now, this should help me learn to put my best time, effort, and resources into something that will yield the most benefits.

And by benefits, I do not necessarily refer to money. While I'm no longer as cheeky as before to claim that money is not a factor when it comes to my decision-making (oh those were the young and foolish days which we're never looking back at again), I am still convinced that self-fulfillment remains to be a prime motivator in assessing things. However, I'm re-assessing my definition of self-fulfillment because for some reason I've somehow associated it with immediate gratification. This evidently makes it difficult for me to endure strenuous situations -- clouding my decision-making enough to make me hit the escape button the moment everything becomes too uncomfortable and unsure.

Going back to my previous entry, I should be able to comfortably forget about the uncertainty of the future and trust that perseverance and a burning passion to succeed will be enough to bring me whatever it is I want. I should give myself 20 years to determine if I've actually achieved whatever it is I want to be. Now if I end up being one of those sob stories I've heard too much about, there is always the option to try one more role I've always been fascinated to take: the crazy old hobo who shits on the sidewalk and argues with himself. (So far, I already dress like one and I constantly have batshit crazy debates with myself so I'm not exactly far removed from this future haha)

Tempus Agit

Now is my master. While riding the jeep on the way to work, looking at the passing people hurrying to get to their offices, I realized that I am enslaved by the idea that TODAY might be the only chance I have. I am so engrossed with the fear that constantly thinking/preparing for the future shortchanges me with my experience of now. 

That is likely the reason why I hate waiting. Waiting is always the anticipation of something that hasn't come yet. It's postponing certain decisions in lieu of something grand to come along the way. But in an age of pro-activity and self-empowerment, waiting leaves you powerless in the hands of the unforeseeable future. Of course, while we've arranged the world to comfortably be predictable most of the time, the possibility of a surprising turn of events still lies there somewhere, ready to pounce on you when you least expect it.

Everyone has heard sad stories about people who believed tomorrow offered a better promise than today: that mister who grinds himself to the ground saving up for the future until a sudden accident kills him. Or that lady who pines for her husband who went missing -- staying loyal until the end because she had faith he would show up one day. The poor people who grin and bear the sufferings they endure because they hope that the heavens see their plight and will give them their just rewards, whether in this lifetime or the next. 

While we appeal to probability and hope that there is a bright and better future reserved for us, who knows what the future really holds? All I know is that now is the only tangible thing. The future is a concept that might not even arrive for me. Yes, my senses delude me, my emotions deceive me, but rationality isn't what makes me human. Experiences shape who I am -- and these highs in life that I pursue, while fleeting and ephemeral, are what give me meaning and make my life worthwhile.

HOWEVER, while fear drives me to create the maximum human experience for today, fear also feeds me thoughts of having nothing tomorrow. Thus I am torn apart between the now and the future. I feel like I am St. Anthony in Martin Schongauer's engraving being pulled from all sides by these demons of time. I really should find balance and learn to serve two masters. 

No More Walls, Only Burning Houses

"The only thing that stops you from becoming a champion is yourself." The popular tae kwon do athlete I interviewed awhile ago stressed this message which I found inspiring.

While his statement dripped with testosterone and locker-room psychology, there is a chunk of truth in it. A large factor that stops me from becoming who I want to be is myself. Every time I hesitate, I am likely to suffer the consequences of my hesitation.

In his sport, fear can make or break the battle. The moment you doubt your capabilities, the moment the opponent cracks your confidence, is as good as accepting your defeat. The second you stop believing in yourself is the crucial second you made a choice to lose. It is not the swift blow of a rushing kick straight to your face that spelled your crushing loss but the fact that you lost faith in what YOU could do.

Call it stupid, call it anthropic arrogance. But survival IS arrogance. The law of entropy dictates that everything is doomed to destruction -- gotterdammerung is the fate of the universe. The mere act of trying to survive is a testament of my arrogance against this destruction. Like the gods of Norse myth, I fight a losing battle but I fight it all the same because I refuse to be a victim. I don't want to believe I'm a victim. Despite the randomness of circumstances that shape my decisions and my situation, I would rather fool myself believing that I have a say in all of this than give up and lose heart and wait until I am struck dead.

Yes, it is stupid to believe that the glass is only half-full, that kismet blows us kisses all the time. But we need a lie to make us live. Reality is demoralizing and disheartening; we need a nice fiction for us to march yonder to that sunny hilltop where the blue skies are never-ending. There is an Anais Nin in all of us that screams, "Reality doesn't impress me. I only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me, I escape, one way or another."

A champion goes out there without thought of loss, without provision for defeat. Plan B is for cowards. I give up intellect for something a bit stupid, and that is the stupidity that leads me to victory. I'm running inside that burning house of opportunity tomorrow. The noxious smoke will probably knock me unconscious but I'll never know what's in there unless I get in and risk it.

The Things I Notice During Workdays

There's a container van down our building that plays this kind of music during the afternoon. LOL.