Because I Entertain These Thoughts

Sometimes, I feel like I'm standing still and everything's changing way too faster than I want. 

You'd think that this is contradictory to my previous journal entry which said that I'm okay with the changes. But this is not meant to serve as a recantation of what I've written. On the contrary, I stand by it -- I am happy with those life changes. But I refer to other changes this time. The changes of life in general, of everything surrounding me, of a generation passing by, waving goodbye, as new things come and eventually overtake me. 

Am I moving too slowly? Am I too cautious? Why is it that I feel like I'm not doing enough to effect changes in my life? I feel utterly lacking. I feel like I'm letting life pass me by as I blindly trudge on, complacently reassured by the new things I'm seemingly adding to my life, only to realize that these so-called life-changing decisions are but minuscule additions to my existence, or to the entire transformation of life? 



Is it the unavoidable quarter-life crisis? Then again, I've always been existential. Right now, I just feel like I should do more, squeeze myself dry of everything I can do. I want to be something, and I want to affirm myself of my worth. There is a pressing need to establish myself and prove to myself that I am deserving of something.

I am standing at a crossroad, thinking that I should do all of these, while also convinced that nothing is important in the end. I am perpetually discouraged by the futility of existence and this hinders me from achieving what should be done. I want to be so many things at the same time I am being stretched and spread to thinly, and I become confused of what I really should be doing. 

I envy single-minded people. I know I can be like that but it will perhaps take me tremendous effort to be like that. I am scared of failures and to dedicate one's life in the pursuit of a single endeavor is a scary idea. What if I fail? What if I never make it to the top? It is a scary proposition. And I know I should block out negative thoughts but paranoia is this monstrous parasite attached at the back of my head, whispering that I won't be able to make it, and really, trying is pointless.

Am I doomed?

Perhaps. 

Of Letting Go and Moving On

Once again, things are changing. The wheel is moving once again and I've chosen to be in another place. 

The realization came to me while traveling to work. I suppose I've never really thought much about the choices I've made the past few days, only picking what I thought were highly interesting, like a kid inside a candy store choosing the most colorful sweets. I guess I've never really confronted the gravity of my choices, not until the recent ride struck me with an epiphany that has now left me with an unsure smile on my face.

I am happy with my decision. For the record, I do not regret having decided on being part of yet another adventure. Brave new frontiers are always exciting -- unfamiliar landscapes, foreign cultures, a different set of people to mingle and talk to: all these things make the journey worth it. Yet, going to the next chapter of my life does not diminish the value of the last. If anything, I think the past two years have strengthened me enough to face the next challenge. 

There are always regrets. Things I've done, things I should've done, things I shouldn't have, people I should've been braver to confront, people I should've been wiser to avoid -- there are always things that will make me feel bad. It's foolish to even think that there is nothing to regret about. But when I summon all the courage to say "no regrets", it is in the belief that regretting will only hamper my growth. There are lessons waiting to be learned and that's what I should focus on -- the wisdom I can take away from the craziness and impulsiveness of the past two years.

I've met people along the way and I hope I made positive contributions in their life. Some of them have already left for better opportunities; some are staying because they believe it is where their fate lies. Regardless of their motivations or reasons, I sincerely hope that I've affected them in ways that they will cherish for life. Not to be sappy about it, but then, we all hope for anchors to affirm our existence. In the end, perhaps there really is no good or bad, only nothingness and the peace of emptiness. Faced with that, I fervently wish that at least I've caused happiness in one way or another, or have atoned for my faults against them, whatever these wrongs may be. 

The struggle really is in the daily details. And struggle, I have -- the cigarettes I should've thrown away, the cruel words I never should've uttered, and many other things. But what is done is done and one cannot do more about it except go on and be the better version of one's self. And I hope that's where I'm heading -- being the better me. As corny and as "Eat, Pray, Love" as it may sound, I just hope that I'm becoming better and I'm learning my lessons well. Although I staunchly affirm my disbelief of a deity that proportions each of our lifetime's lessons, I still believe that everyday challenges allow me to understand more about this life.

Anyway, among the many things that remain to be me, I still am afraid to be shallow (whatever that is) and I'm still scared of being a nobody (again, whatever that is). I still am very, very awkward. One of the things I've become that I'm not very proud of is how I've unleashed more meanness than I ever thought I was capable of. Maybe it was the attempt of fitting in, or reinforcing my self-esteem. Whatever it is, I hope that I don't end up becoming the person I once loathed (and still do).

Enough of the drama. Just thought of getting all these out of my system. Here's to a new career, a new life, and new lessons. 

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.

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.

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.