A Pig in the Cage with Antibiotics

In an attempt to jumpstart the mood and get myself in the writing zone, I'm back here, blogging on a lazy summer Sunday. The air is suffocating me with thoughts of beach getaways, but here I am, stuck instead at home, trying to finish a 4,000-word primer for a competition our company is joining.

Bah, adult life. But I'm not exactly complaining right now. I am too tired of whining -- note that this is merely an observation. 

I've never been the most responsible person on Earth, to be truthful, and adult life isn't exactly the best experience for a 24-year old boy who refuses to grow up. Mornings, like when I was a kid, are still the most horrible parts of the day -- waking up is still a drag. I still make a mess inside my closet every time I pull out clothes to wear. I still doodle when I'm forced to listen to long-drawn blabber -- just like in elementary, high school, and college. I am forgetful as always, yet I continue to resist making notes if only because creating reminders make me feel like I'm such an organized worrywart, which takes away the fun of spontaneity and surprises. 

Yes, I am inefficient. I am the gear that creaks and squeaks and goes all wonky. But somehow I'd like to believe that being this crazy, kooky person that I fashion myself to be makes me a whole lot interesting. I don't know when my aversion of becoming a bore began, but for as long as I can remember, I've always been that kid who tried to cross the line. Never mind if I ended up falling in a deep pit (which by the way was difficult to lie about at home, after I showed up with soiled clothes, bruises, and all),  or got punished for challenging authority (elementary days, discipline officer, nipple-pinching -- don't ask). 

The attempt to challenge the flow stems way, way back to my childhood, when I was forbidden to go outside and play. Our helper would lock the gate so my brother and I wouldn't be able to escape. But we were smarter (or stupider, take your pick): we'd scale the walls like the monster brats that we were, unafraid of jumping the height for the promise of the large playground that is the outside world. It was an ecstatic, rush-of-blood-to-the-head feeling. The defiance of imposed limits using ingenuity and lots of balls became a fruitful pursuit that led to fulfillment. It fuels my existence -- from then until now.

However, it doesn't make me a decent, respectable adult in the eyes of snooty companies and an uptight society. This is a world of rules, and I am trapped to slave away for the remainder of my days until the pension kicks in and I'm stuck in some senior citizen's home, waiting for Death to knock on my door at 2 in the morning with chloroform in my soy milk and arsenic-laced oatmeal cookies.

LOL. Happy Sunday everyone. :-)

Pushover

"I don’t intend to lose. You know, I was trained in athletics, I was being groomed to compete in the Olympics for the 100-meter dash event. I was taught that when running for a competition, never look back, even for a split second because that will cost you your victory. That metaphor has always stayed with me. If you have an objective, go for it. The science of consciousness tells you that you cannot break your focus because you will only hamper your own performance." - Nicanor Perlas, 2010 presidential candidate

I was reading an article about Nicanor Perlas the other day, and encountered this quote of his that stuck to me.

Now, before I begin, I want to clarify that I am not endorsing him. So far, I've yet to listen/read about his views on the Reproductive Health Bill (one of the factors I consider in choosing this year's president). Regardless of my support (or the lack of it) however, I have to say this very ballsy quote of his really struck a chord in me.

I admit, I rarely have a single-track mind. I always lose sight of my goal because more often than not, I end up doubting myself. There's always that part where I think that I can't do it -- that inner voice asking, "Can you really?" or "Is it the right path?" or "Will it matter?" Eventually I just lose heart and become disillusioned/apathetic about whatever it is I'm doing.

The problem about looking at the grand picture is that the grand picture gives me a perfect 360-degree view of what-the-fuck. The pessimist in me always sees everything as pointless, absurd, and utterly doomed to failure. It's always about propping the system to succeed, struggling to exist, and fighting for life. It traps me in thoughts on why the universe actually favored life to even happen at all, when all it does is punch the living in the gut with its rules.

And so I end up dismissing everything as useless -- like building sandcastles just so the next bully walking by can stomp on it and kick me in the face when he's done.

But then again, like in my previous post, maybe I just have to go on and do it.

Honestly, it's very obvious that I've been entertaining these thoughts a lot recently. Notice, I've been trying to encourage myself with canned motivational speeches. This is how desperate I am to push myself out of this rut. I'm so afraid of taking a leap and the chance to be somebody else. I fear too much that I'll fail that it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. But I need to stop this because it's not making me any better. Not that I know what better is, but I'm sure as hell definite that it's not this.

I loathe being too much of a worrywart and pining over things of the past. I must cease romanticizing yesterday. Like that quote from "500 Days of Summer", I should take a good second look on what I had before. It's time I learned the lessons and moved forward with my life. This is a race and I have to win it. Focus like a laser.