Musings of an Island Boy

Set my foot on Boracay soil the first time today, as part of the media immersion for one of our company's clients. Not that I was totally excited: while I've heard much about the famous island destination, the reality that this visit is part of work doesn't it make as grand as it sounds. 

While most people think the PR life is a charmed life, it isn't. It's taxing, it's tiring, and while there are a lot of perks to be thankful for (which I am, of course - it's work plus a bit of pleasure I guess, hands down) -- like what my boss said -- the fun is stripped away mostly by the fact that you're doing it for work.

Anyway, I digress from my main point. I was making a lot of observations while on the way here. Probably that's the creative side of me kicking in. I'm absorbing more of my environment since I'm trying to derive inspiration for my next story. I guess I'm amateurish that way, if one is to believe the quote from this book I'm currently reading, Philip Roth's "Everyman" (thanks Gretch!), which goes, "Amateurs look for inspiration; the rest of us just get up and go to work." And so far, there are a lot of interesting sights and sounds along the way, such as:

1.) The Jungle Boys. They were the tribal band that performed during our dinner. My friend Charl noted that it wasn't enough that you had to have musical talent to be part of the group -- you also had to have the body to show off, at the very least, since the guys performed half-naked. (Therefore, fat people = The City Boys)

2.) This ad about A-TVs for rent. Someone wrote, "Wow! You can go anywhere in Boracay!"

3.) The artificiality of the experience. The Jungle Boys playing with microphones and spotlights. 

4.)  How there's nothing majestic about hilly landscapes that give you a panoramic view of the islands when you're drunk and you have to climb uphill (a little inside joke, forgive me)

5.) Drunk muscular men bopping and bobbing their heads at the beach like they worked out all their lives to show off bulging muscles

6.) The DJ screaming "Put your hands up in the air" -- when everybody's too drunk to care

7.) French-kissing teeners in the beach. I really must be old; my sensibilities are offended

8.) How anticlimactic a tsunami would've been tonight

So far, I anticipate other things tomorrow. I am nearing inebriation -- forgive me if I fail to make this entry as ironic as I hoped it would've been. Bah. 

P.S. Thanks for calling me, buster loser. :-)

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. :-)

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.

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)

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.