Wednesday, December 23, 2009

The Christmas Post that Was

The problem, and I daresay it’s a major problem, is that this year’s Christmas is perhaps the most un-Christmas-y one we’ve had in recent years. And I’m sure I am not alone in this opinion, so hold your /wrist retorts for a moment.

It could be that recent tragedies have something to do with the gloomy Yuletide. What with a the wrath of nature still haunting us, or the images of one man’s greed and corruption leading to a massacre of such disturbing fashion. But that’s the beat of the Nation we’re talking about. It may have a say in how we perceive the holidays, but really, in such times it is the personal things that, in my own experience, dictate our orientation. Of course, if you ask me, this year, as in the whole of 2009, can go ahead and FUCK ITSELF.

IN THE BUTT.

TWICE.

Ahem... moving along...

The decrease in purchasing power could also be a factor, but if you think about it, it always is. Ergo, it is a given anyways. So it is not something we should actively look into, or Ted Mosby about too much. ((Oh hoho, he just used a HIMYM joke, comedy gold Jerry!) Wait, did I just use a Seinfeld joke to point out my HIMYM joke? Bricks are shiat as we speak!)).

Most people would say maybe they’re just getting old. Now, while that may seem like a valid point, I have to ask, if the person telling me that is 3 years or so younger, does that mean I grew up too late? Seriously, saying we’re just getting old is like, a cool way of trying to look worldly and all that shit. But I doubt it really is age because 3 years ago, I wasn’t feeling the same thing you’re feeling right now.

Perhaps it’s the over commercialization of it all, the traffic and need to wade through a sea of humanity just to certain individuals gift that, despite the effort you put into, is still subject to their petty judgment and criticism on how well you know them. Of course, that in itself is satisfying when one sees their faces light up with (feigned) appreciation, thus making all that retail royal rumble worthwhile.

Or perhaps, and I’d hate to think that this would be true, the paradigm has shifted to the point that Christmas isn’t something magical or special anymore. It’s still has cultural significance, but not as deep, or not as heartfelt as before. We are simply going through the motions of the season and act all normal when it’s over. In short, the spirit really is dead, like a horse, and we’re simply beating it, hoping that it would eventually come back to life.

I’d hate to think that we’ve become that jaded.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Chapter End, Chapter Start.

While I've always said I'm more of a hack writer than anything, I do take a certain pride in the craft. I'm not the best, but I make it a point that whatever is written serves the purpose intended in its creation. But 3 months ago, writing (mainly) for money was no longer the norm for me as I've decided to take a different path in my career as an Internet marketer.

As to what I do now for a living, I'm not entirely sure. I have a clear grasp of the basics, but that level of expertise to be able to describe it with certainty if not feigned credibility still eludes me. Granted, on whatever profession or craft, expertise and affinity come with time and learning. That never really ends, those who say they've done everything that needs to be done are kidding themselves.

I arrived at that decision both for financial and personal reasons. Not that I have a problem with money, but who doesn't like MORE money? The challenge is also nice, and makes whatever skill I've learned in the past all the more useful. Personally, I felt I needed a change of pace, which is always welcome first step when faced with what is more popularly known as "the funk".

Ending a chapter in one's story to start a new one is of course, not the ultimate solution to "the funk". In fact, one risks the danger of simply running away from a problem rather than making amends. The repercussions may not be evident, but it never hurts to think about the long run or the big picture or the grand scheme of things or whatever phrase better encapsulates that concept.

Still, starting fresh is so invigorating that it may exactly be what I needed. Also, I'd like to think that in my case, I didn't run from a problem, I just tightened up some loose ends and went on a different path. The knowledge, or lack thereof, of the outcome is something else. It keeps you on your toes, and it makes you curious and eager. I'd say having that kind of attitude and situation is ideal when starting from scratch.

But then again, chapters aren't independent of each other. A story is separated in chapters to add a semblance of organization, but in the end they all tie in to form the entirety of the story. Some people take advantage of this and plan out the chapters of their lives. But at best, they're making a rough outline. Let's face it, no one is certain what the future brings. I'm not a fan of that approach, as a story with unexpected twist or turns is always compelling. At the same time you can't blame people who want to stick to a tried and tested structure with little to no surprises. Chances are if it was a good story that is worth of the title classic, an iteration of it with slight variations are bound to be good. Me? I'll stick to the uncertainty thankyouverymuch.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

It's Been A While

Most blogs have a limited life cycle that doesn't necessarily mean there is an end to all this (unsolicited) sharing of the author's thoughts. During this cycle there is that time that majority of the blog posts that would follow include a bevy of apologetic posts on how busy one has been, thus disabling them from clacking their keyboards, putting on their (ugly) writer's hat and composing a post. This goes on and perhaps the author just loses interest, abandoning the project altogether.

Now, I could've gone down that path, but then again, I doubt my readership is large enough to be disappointed in the knowledge that this blog is on its death throes (do I even have a readership? what the hell is a readership anyway?). So I will belay that part of the cycle for the time being. So I guess that's somewhat good news for the few poor souls who, for whatever reason beyond my limited ken, still read this damnable collection of hackneyed drivel.

Self-depreciation aside, reality has a way of simply draining away whatever passion or zest a person once had on any particular venture. In this case, having endured several changes in my own arduous boondogling that I call a job and a disappointment brought about by a hard slap to the face care of the Universe (with hugs and kisses mind you, too bad I hate hugs), I find myself simply exhausted and frustrated to come up with the (doubtful) creativity that once fueled this medium and waste several minutes/hours and bandwidth. It's not writers block per se, simply fatigue with a pinch of depression (dramatic writer is dramatic, and lame with lame memes). Ok fine, most of it was laziness, but let's not have solid facts mar my nigh-believable excuse here.

So does this post mean there will be more updates in the horizon? Perhaps. Maybe if I feel like it. Truth is, there have been many things that I would've love to put into writing, but I felt that it was unecessary because frankly, they're mean, like, really mean, much like this girl. That and most of the emotion behind such words are juvenile and born of rage with a (un)healthy dose of bitterness. I'd like to think I'm better than that or stronger at least. And whoever they are supposed to be addressed to don't deserve such a thing. So Cest la vie, Ob-la-Di Ob-la-Da, and whatnot.

So where do we go from here? How many times have I said that really? The answer to that query is rather fortune-cookie-ish if not true to my spontaneous and whimsical nature: we'll see. See, its a lot like what Claire Colburn (played by Kristen Dunst in the severly underrated and little known flick Elizabethtown) said: "You have five minutes to wallow in the delicious misery. Enjoy it. Embrace it. Discard it. And proceed." I'm not so sure about the five minute, but proceed we shall.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Game. Set. Match.

[photo taken fromlouiseloveselvis (Louise Morgan)'s photostream]

In the game of life, there are winners, and there are losers. Losers will tell you that there is no game, but that's just them trying to make their loss go away. Me? I'm not afraid to admit defeat. Because for every loss and failure is a lesson. That is not to say, that the pain of that shortcoming isn't felt, or regretted.

A person can only take so much, and sometimes, all it takes is one bad day to change a person forever. That bad day already came, and yes, it did change everything. But what happens when another comes along? Will the change be as drastic, or will the soul finally succumb to the madness?

So here I am, another bad day, or should it be a year? Doesn't matter. It hurts just as much. A man can only try to see the bright side for so long until he is reminded how unfair and cruel the world is. All that left is hate and regret. But not hate for anyone. More on hate for myself, because I knew what I was getting into, I knew the consequences, and more importantly, I knew the impossibility of it all.

I'm sorry if I wasted your time. I'm sorry if I overstepped my boundaries. I'm sorry if I was too forward. And more importantly, I'm sorry that I broke my promise that nothing need change. At the same time, thank you, for reminding me exactly why I am the way I am: A bitter cynic who trusts very little, and always expects people to lie and ultimately disappoint you.

Where does this take me? Who knows. All I know is right now, I need to lay low, heal up and hopefully bounce back. There will be a lot of bitterness, I can't help it. But know that I am never blaming you, just me.

Friday, June 26, 2009

Smile More

And now, for something a wee bit personal...

People who know me well enough know that I've only been in two relationships, one with my high school sweetheart and the other with a former co-worker. I'd rather not get into the details in order to protect both their privacy. Suffice to say, I'm still good friends with my first ex (that would be the high school sweetheart one. Keep up will you). No, it's not holding on just so we could get back together, that ship has sailed and we grew into different people who probably wouldn't fall in love the way we did back in high school. Right now however, she is one of my most trusted confidantes because I don't have to worry about being judged, we've been through so much that I believe she has a good idea as to who or what I am.

In a rare opportunity to actually talk heart to heart with her, she made this complaint about my current attitude (although what's so current about it? I've always been like this). i.e. my cynical outlook, my anti-social tendencies and the fact that I'm just one big Negative Nancy. Can you blame me? Every time I try to see the glass as half-full I am reminded by someone that it's just a friggin' glass of water, nothing more. Not a clever metaphor to describe on what end of the the pscyho-philo-whatever spectrum you're at. So her wish for me was to simply smile more.

But like I've always said, behind every smile is a story. Lately there isn't story that's worth telling with a smile (cue /wrist). This is the part where she vehemently chastises me for being negative again. I could promise myself to be more positive towards things and people and situations. But that would be a lie. What is needed here is genuine change not something held up by a promise but by a sincere willingness to change.

Yes I will still heed her advice. Yes I will try a hint of positivity. No, there will still be no hugging. But it's not an overnight thing. Also it's not a complete overhaul, just a few minor adjustments. So here's hoping that I get to actually smile more. I just hope and pray that you (you know who you are, ok maybe not) will be a big part of it.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

In-fighting

Why is it that, when we're hurting, we prefer to try and fool our mind into piling mundane concerns in order to bury that unpleasant memory in the deep recesses of our mind? Take workaholics for example, while some are legitimately passionate about what they do, a lot are probably just trying to keep themselves busy, fabricating a barrier of responsibility, burden and duty to keep the pain, the longing and the realization of failure at bay.

Why do people who are "happily single" insist that they are happy? It's like they're not talking to you, but a mirror instead. A lie said over and over again will eventually be accepted as the truth, but in this case, the audience seems unconvinced majority of the time.

Is it denial or hope that fuels these self-contradicting behaviors?

Doubt surrounds us, a large majority of famous people had many doubters, and they would proceed to prove these people wrong. But I'm willing to bet that it didn't matter how many detractors these people had, because the bottom line is, even if the whole world is against you, even if the people you trust the most begin to question you, at the end of the day, it's just one person that really needs convincing, that really needs to be proven wrong:

YOU.

Saturday, June 20, 2009

Right Guy, Right Time

"The good guys are either taken or gay?"

I'm sure we've all heard this before (and if you haven't, get a life, seriously). Most men who've heard this from a befriended prospect have probably felt the urge to wave their hands around and shout "EXCUSE ME, I'M RIGHT HERE!". Those who haven't been in such a situation are pretty lucky or at least know when to pick their battles.

Seriously, this is why I can't help but think the world is one sick little joke. When the label of "nice guy" stops being the final nail on the coffin to your campaign of romance rather than a plus or indication that you're nearing your goal, then maybe I'll start thinking that this world is all about sunshine and rainbows. Alas, that is most often or not the case. Tough.

Friend told me once, I'm just bitter. I asked this friend to tell me I'm wrong, she can't, say I'm really just bitter. Whether she accepts it or not, I have no idea. But yes, I am bitter about it. When a prospect has full knowledge of your intentions tells you that there are no more decent men out there, I consider that a hint. Am I reading too much into it? Perhaps I am. But it does paint quite the picture, a very unpleasant one.

What was it that Famke Jansen's iteration of Jean Grey said? Oh yeah: Girls flirt with the dangerous guy, Logan. They don't take him home. They marry the good guy. So maybe there is hope. Yeah sure, anyone who fits the description of a good guy is going to love that. Thank you for reinforcing the notion that "Nice guys finish last." That'll make him feel better. (Protip: it won't)

Of course, the question is, how sure are we that we are the right person for someone? It's quite arrogant to claim that you're everything that girl is looking for if you think about it. You may be the decent old chap, never hurt anyone, and would probably provide your mark with everything she may ever need. But that doesn't guarantee you're perfect for her. Human beings are so dynamic that while personally types can give you a general idea of how a person reacts to things, it's still not iron clad, and people do change, and lie.

Then there's that notion of timing. I'd elaborate but really, timing is relative to a person who claims that they're just waiting for the right time. It could cover a number of events, phenomena or dialog, bottomline is, you will never get it and will probably just be lucky you got the timing right.

Unfortunately, best way around this beautiful little mess is to stick to it, suck it up, and plow through. Eventually the answers will come and you don't end up on the friend zone.

Still think it's a cruel joke though.

Thursday, June 4, 2009

Damn You Subconscious

My subconscious and I are constantly at war. Okay maybe it's more of silent disagreement, a Cold War if you will. Two factions not really in direct conflict with each other, but both wait in baited breath on which of us will make the first move. In the meantime, all that is left is preparation, and everyone is screwed over by propaganda and paranoia. It's a nice little dynamic, if you don't mind living confused and afraid.

Consciously, I know what I want more or less. Get through the day, try to forward a few plans here and there, have fun. I know who and what I long for. No problem. Everything is clear cut, and deliberate attempts are made to reach out for those things. Regardless of the outcome, I'm sure this is what I'm going for.

But that all goes to shit when I actually hit the hay. You see, I've always hated my dreams, not only do they involve nonsensical scenarios that I barely remember when I wake up (other than the fact that those were really messed up situations that not even Uwe Boll would dare touch) but they often include individuals who I know in the waking world. It's, for the lack of a better or more accurate term, creepy. And I'd hate for that person to know that I dream of them because its awkward and disturbing. I'd hate to think I'm that disturbed. I hope I'm not.

You might say, that's not strange at all. We always dream about the people who we connect to , impact us or we have a certain interest in. See, here's the problem, when I'm awake, I know who this person is. When I sleep, it's a totally different person, and not a metaphorical sense. This leads me to two conclusions, either I'm lying to my waking self, and my subconscious is calling me out on my bullshit via the subterfuge of a pointless dream... or it's telling me of a better option. In either case, I'm pretty sure I'm at a loss here.

So damn you subconscious, this little game we're playing? I'm tired of it. Is it too much to ask for some clarity? I don't have time to do some Zen stuff to find oneness with you. Well, I actually do, but lack the discipline and concentration to even pursue that. But cut me some slack, I'm decided, it a may be a lost cause, but its still my choice. Stop trying to ruin/fix it for me. Because all you've done is give me vague and unrealistically hypothetical outcomes. I mean, come on, we're the same person after all. Would it kill you to try and meet me eye to eye here?

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Things Left Unsaid Part 2

I'm not a fan of Grey's Anatomy. It's overly dramatic and the medicine seems crap shot at best. Heck I've made fun of it before in this blog. But I will admit that the narration, and how it coincides with the scenes, are bloody brilliant. It also helps a lot that Meredith Grey's voice, even in its dead pan form, just sounds made to deliver such lines. The season finale, was, in true melodramatic fashion, a cliffhanger. But rather than focus on the story and spoil it for the fans, we're going to focus instead, on the last lines of narration.

Meredith: Did you say it? 'I love you. I don't ever want to live without you. You changed my life.' Did you say it? Make a plan. Set a goal. Work toward it, but every now and then, look around; Drink it in 'cause this is it. It might all be gone tomorrow.
- source wikiquote.org
It's powerful, it's moving, and quite frankly whether you love or hate the show, it makes a lot of Goddamn sense. What more can one add? Sure we rarely find ourselves in life or death situations like in the show, and thank God for that. But perhaps that's what the line was alluding too. Such moments, such times, can never be truly foreseen. They come when we least expect it because frankly, we don't, won't and are too scared to even fathom those situations.

I once argued with a friend about letting such moments pass, or whether or not we should ever worry about what if, what could've been. While its easy to say, heck maybe even advisable never to ask ourselves that, never to look back on those things, can we truly, sincerely, and without doubt do so?

While the jury is out on which of us is correct, I'll be damned if I don't at least try something, make a plan, or set a goal. Because like what Dr. Grey said, it might all be gone tomorrow.

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Enough

If you look to your left, you might remember this scene from the hit romantic comedy, Love Actually. It's not your typical romcom/chick flick, as it is one of the few movies to have multiple storylines that converge in the end and do it quite well. Sure it's still overly optimistic and has mad dash's to the airport which is typical of romantic comedies since time in memorial. However there is a hint of tragedy lying there somewhere and the airport scene is done in a manner that would be considered borderline satire. It's an amazing little movie with a great cast (Alan Rickman, Bill Nighy and Rowan Atkinson, what's not to like?) and is only one Hugh Laurie and John Cleese away from total awesomeness if not godhood.

The scene depicted is perhaps one of the most memorable awwww-inspiring moments. Bloggers and bloggerettes have cited that scene a bajillion times which is somewhat strange because it pales in comparison to the wedding scene, which you'll have to watch as descbring it does it no justice. (Also, let's see you pull that off in your wedding). Now, if you haven't seen it, or plan on actually seeing it, it would probably be best you stop reading now. As the next paragraph might contain spoilers and overly mushy bullcrap.

Now, I mentioned the word tragedy and if you've seen the flick you're thinking to yourself, "how did that happen? Everyone in the goddamn movie found love even that douchebag pervert Colin!" (actually no they didn't). My sister had warned me that watching this would be depressing. And to be quite honest, it is, but not in the manner in which she thought it would be. Being single for nearly 3 years isn't the reason why the movie's ending can depress a man like myself. That scene, and many others however, is the black cloud, so to speak. What you missed here is what comes after, sure Keira Knightley's character went and gave him a kiss, the asshole is trying steal the girl from his best friend, but hey let's forgive him he just went in there WITHOUT HOPE OR AGENDA and told her the truth! No the truth did not set him free! It was the last word in that entire scene that freed the man, and it's a word that a lot of us struggle to use, for whatever motherfucking reasons we delude ourselve to believing. You know that word is?

ENOUGH.

Yes, that word. Wherein we finally admit that this was crazy, this feelings are wrong and Love Actually isn't all around because it missed by a motherfucking mile here. Yes I'm angry right now, not only because I can relate to it but also because it oh so fucking brilliant! Brilliant that one could hide behind the phrase "WITHOUT HOPE OR AGENDA" tell the truth, say Merry Fucking Christmas and go on with life. But guess what? It doesn't work that way. Even as much as we want to say that we simply came in and told the truth, not hoping for anything, not tyring to meet an end goal other than bearing your heart out, the aftermath is still there, and unlike a movie that can write it out and skip it, we still have to go through it.

Despite this rage-filled comment, I still like the movie. Despite the shallowness, the ridiculous optimism and feel-good-ish vibe, the story works. It's a bunch of love stories trying to prove to us that love is all around, regardless of what kind of love that is, what age, what nationalty and whether or not it works out in the end. Most people only see the sap and the mushiness, but I think there hasn't been a movie that can cover so many spectrums of love, the good and the bad while still making you smile in the end.

[Photo above taken from http://www.robertopereztoledo.com]

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Lost Causes

Lost causes are funny. They're perhaps the biggest jokes on humanity. All the world is in darkness, everything's going to shit and guess what, here we are, getting through just fine. Surviving, struggling, minding our own business and just looking on to get through the next day.

All of a sudden there's a little candle that gets lit. It's a friggin' shining beacon of high and holy hopes. This messianic source of light is the answer to the many lamentations that we secretly offer up every night, but dare not say out loud because we don't want to set ourselves up for disappointment. Finally, salvation is right in front of us in the form of this single burning candle that makes the gloom and doom a little bit bearable.

Then, the Universe, with it's amazing sense of dark humor, blows the goddamn thing out. Ouch.

A bevy of false hopes and shattered dreams later, you can't help but laugh. Here we were, actually challenging reality and the good ol' Universe, believing that maybe it all makes sense, that we can actually make the difference. But we're so jaded we just laugh it off, but really we're crying inside because as much as we don't want to admit it, it hurt.

But you know what's the real joke? It's not the fact that you actually thought it would work. No, not at all. The real kicker here is that you knew it was coming all along and you were in on it. And yet here we are, all butthurt and angry about it. Now that's a laugh.

Guess what, Life's a joke, and you're the punchline.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

The Pursuit of Happiness

No, I haven't seen Will Smith's movie of the same title. But I have heard good things, and brief synopsis from a friend. Of course further reading has pointed out that, while a very inspirational movie, it was more of fiction than anything else. Minus the rose-tinted glasses, the story is more of how a douche bag of a human being was at the right place at the right time. Why no, no one pissed on my cornflakes this morning, why do you ask?

C. P. Snow, some famous guy who just so happens to be a physicist and apparently a novelist once said that this pursuit of happiness is nothing but an exercise in futility, to paraphrase Mr. Snow. Of course, the little optimist who are all gaga over this bull crap known as the Secret would say something positive, like say, "it's because we don't find happiness, happiness finds us." Or say something nasty like call the good Mr. Snow a bitter, bitter old man. Well he's dead, and I'm pretty sure even if he was alive he couldn't care less if he was a bitter man, especially considering his accolades.

But perhaps that was the brilliance of the actual quote "The pursuit of happiness is a most ridiculous phrase; if you pursue happiness you'll never find it." It is open to the interpretation of the reader and allows for a multitude of wordplay, allowing one to come off wiser to his or her peers should he or she share it. But was that the true intent? A template for what would be numerous quotations that will find it's way to coffee cups and framed posters if not short and sweet little letters? I'd rather think not. But sure, whatever floats your boat and impresses the chicks right?

Truth be told, I am in total agreement of the quote in its current unmodified state. Too often has humanity given chase to this wild goose that is happiness. But more often than not, the fruit of their labors have come to naught, or if otherwise successful, they realize it wasn't all that it was made to be.

But that does mean we simply wait till happiness falls on our lap like mana from the heaven? No, on the contrary, my answer is rather on the semantic end. We shouldn't strive to look for something vague and inexplicable like the notion happiness. I mean do we even know what it looks like or what exactly that entails? But rather, we should, if the time permits, seek out the things that we know will make us happy. If you seek out the idea of happiness then all you have is an ideal situation in which reality will always fall short. But if you pursue something that is indirectly tied to the state of happiness i.e. something that you know will make you happy, be it love, food, money or power; then perhaps you will reach that state. .



Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Moments part 2

What makes a moment great?

Just how do we dissect that one special instant? When it would seem that the world just fades away. When time stops and it's just you, that place, that person/those people are all that matters. The heart skips a beat, the scenario engraved in the mind, something that we will most assuredly cherish forever. When the past is truly behind us, and tomorrow can damn well wait. Because it's your time and on one else's. And you pray to the gods that it lasts just a little bit longer, just a little bit longer...

In that respect, just how much does it take to have it all come crashing down?

When does a wrong turn or a single mistake ruin days, weeks, months if not years of preparation and build-up? Could it be a small nick or a slight crack, creeping up slowly and surely. Shattering the dreams that you've paid so dearly for? Or perhaps it's swift and decisive, like a house of cards collapsing to a strong breeze or and excess in vibration. Is it a combination of various sins and faults, unchecked insensitivity and miscalculations born of stubborn arrogance or inculpable ignorance? Maybe it was doomed from the start, blinded by false hopes and delusive expectations?

For whatever the reasons, the factors or the correlations we see, for whatever questions and inquiries we ask, one thing is certain. These moments will come whether we like them or not. They will come as we stumble along or deliberately set a course for them. The people involved in these times are just as important, as they now share something with you. Whether that bond or the association is through love, hate, friendship, or whatever, they will cling to you, and you to them. After all is said and done, all that is left is memories.... memories that eventually fade.

But we can now choose to fight and retain those bonds those memories. Because in the end, when all is said and done, you need these experiences. Not as a crutch to bitterness. Or an excuse to reminisce of the good old days, but rather simply, to reminds us who we are.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Ob-la-Di, Ob-la-Da

Anyone with half a brain or at the very least, minuscule if not microscopic appreciation of true and great music made by bands like the Beatles should know that whenever someone says "Obla-Di, Obla-Da" the next thing you should say is "life goes on bra" okay, maybe not the "bra" part (stop snickering you sick perverts, it's JAMAICAN SLANG!). But if you fail to at the very least, mention that mentally, then you need to get up, go out, find a Beatles CD or go to your friggin' iTunes store and get this song, IMMEDIATELY. After that, you listen to it, listen with GREAT VIGOR mind you, and memorize that part. As for those young whippersnappers who think that Coldplay or The Script are the "shiznit" and think this isn't worth your time, you can go right ahead and to get off my fucking lawn.


Still there? Good. Congratulations, your taste in music isn't as bad. You somehow recognize, as the late great Beatle John Lennon calls it, "Paul (McCartney)'s Granny shit" as a classic. This upbeat song about happy little Desmond and Molly Jones and their happily ever after may be considered inspirational, probably why Lennon proceeded to call it "granny shit". As life goes on, no pun intended, the expression Ob-la-Di, Obla-Da became a defeatist statement. To paraphrase The Urban Dictionary, "What you say or say to somebody in the event of misfortune as to let is slide so to speak".

Frankly, we should all learn to say this phrase more. Life is nothing but a blind stumble through a dark corridor and the light at the end of the tunnel is death. Along the way we go through many doors that just still end up going back to that dark corridor. But each door represents the situations, the milestones of our lives. Whether good or bad, we can never go back through the same door again. So why get so bummed out about it? Get up, function, suck it up and move on. As cliche as it sounds, life waits for no one, and it will go on with or without you.

That doesn't necessarily mean you shouldn't look back. Oh do so in your own good time if it helps remind you of the ass kicking the Universe decided to give you as a lesson, go right ahead. But never, ever, give that harlot the satisfaction of seeing you bleed to death all over it. If you do, I promise you you'll be missing a lot. So, there, Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da, as the Yoruba like to say, life goes on bra.

Friday, April 17, 2009

On Possibilities, Risks and Apologies

Life is full of possibilities.

But possibilities aren't always positive. See, we miss that little detail, the fine print so to speak. Blinded by that ignorance, we blame fortune, ourselves or whoever it is the reminds of that small and often overlooked disclaimer. But hey, we should know better right?

Who dares, wins, that's what the Aussies say. Face it, we won't go anywhere if we don't gamble. The idea of winning big and getting lucky is so appealing that we forget the definition of risking and gambling. Odds aren't always in our favor and more often or not, stacked against us.

What comes after is a negativity that we may carry on longer than we should. Someone once told me that real pain lasts only 12 minutes, the rest self-inflicted. Bullshit? No. Truth. What hurts the most is we knew better, we saw it coming and we knew that probabilities were against us. Yet here we are, broken down, downtrodden and in misery. Tough. That's life, that's how it is, no choice but to accept and suck it up champ.

But what if we succeed? Everything is forgotten and forgiven right? That's just wrong. We fail to realize that we still lost something in the process. Alienated people perhaps, maybe even lost someone's trust. Stepping on people and mowing down obstacles in our way, we lost sight of those who supported us, got our backs and called us friend. Maybe they're right, and they're better off, after all, what kind of idiot does that?

It is even doubly possible that we burn all these bridges and in turn still fail at the objective. Who then shall be there when we fall? There are no excuses, fix what needs to be fixed or accept that we screwed up big time. Then stop, say "Thank You", because even at the tail end, these people were there for you and looked out for you. Get your head out of your ass and at least acknowledge that.

Remember what is possible, what is worth risking and apologize sincerely for our trespasses. After that, just hope for the best, but expect the worst.

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

3:16

A man gives up his life so that millions' sins would be forgiven. What does that mean really?

Christianity has told the story countless times, focusing how the sacrifice of this man, who was the son of a god and, bizarrely the very god himself, saved us from our trespasses. John 3:16 goes with the ever memorable "For God so loved the world, He gave us his only son." It seems most of my fellow Christians memorize this scene by heart and yet fail to see how significant this alleged deicide, if one could even call it that, he did take up a mortal coil after all, and miss the underlying message (at least to me) of it all.

Whether or not you believe in the Christian Doctrine, or the Catholic Church or it's many variations, the crucifixion story lends wisdom, albeit an ideal one. Even the godless heathens, the agnostic and those of atheistic tendencies could learn from such melodrama. It's not a story of sacrifice personally, but a culmination of what the man, Jesus Christ stands for. That he was just that, a man (be it true that he was the spawn of a divine being or not) and very much like us. He was subject to the frailty of humanity, the faults and the glory that goes with our very existence. A man who inspired by spreading belief/lies to people who desperately need to hold on to something–faith, hope, illusions. He proved that one man can make a difference, for whatever those reasons and what the difference is is subject to our own personal interpretations.

More importantly, the entirety of his life wasn't just performing miracles or preaching life lessons to the people, but showing us that a man can be good. That with faith, and love, any man or woman can strive to be better than what is expected of him or her. That, to me, was what Jesus Christ represented. Either as a true-to-life inspiration or a lovable character of a story of fiction, he was for all intents and purposes, good, but human, meaning we too, can follow his example.

Yes one could say it's easier to put in a story, but if the idea exists, then perhaps the possibility does as well. After all, what else can change the very nature of a man (or woman) but ideas?

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

The Thin Line (An Ode to Perotto)

Those familiar with the story of Rodrigo Borgia a.k.a Pope Alexander VI and his family, may be familiar with Godfather author Mario Puzo's account of the first crime family in his novel The Family. Though based on history, Puzo took some liberties in order to present a more tightly knit (in my opinion) story. The accuracy may be in question but the gist of the life and times of the Borgia are there. One character that sticks to my mind, although playing a small role, was Perotto, who I hereby dub the patron Saint of Hopeless Romantics (or the Patron Saint of Lovesick Idiots).

Without spoiling much of the great read that is Puzo's The Family, Perotto's character was memorable to me because he was pussy-whipped so bad that it echoed throughout history. This man, for a love of woman, not only claimed to father a child that wasn't even his, he even went above and beyond his "friendship" duty and died for that claim (Basing it on Puzo's account). If the Renaissance ever had a poster child for F*ck My Life worthiness or the ultimate case study of Why the Friend Zone Sucks, Perotto would be their man.

This little tale of selflessness if not base stupidity brings us back to that thin line between love and stupidity. Why would a person even bother risking everything over a situation in which winning or gaining something is entirely impossible if not ridiculuosly improbable? It may be true love but there comes a time that one must question the mechanics of separating the ability to love to the ability of seeing reason. Surely a bit of pragmatism would've helped the situation but nooooo, dear Perotto here had to go on and be a hero, and we all know how well that turned out.

The friend zone is a nasty little place. While it doesn't sound so bad on paper, it really, just REALLY, sucks. BIG TIME. I've often said that I do not wish it upon anyone, because the long, arduous and painstaking torture that it invokes is, in a way, totally justified. The "friend zoned" person agrees to the terms and conditions set upon by both parties, perhaps under the false pretense that things can change, or that somehow he or she (yes, apparently the female gender can be banished to this zone, which is rare) can get used to this setup and move on with their lives while gaining a very valuable confidante. If only we were all that lucky.

If anything, Perotto's tale does prove that there is a thin line, the only problem is, to many people, as to just how thin that line is, is relative. So here's to you Perotto, thank you for making some of us who are threading that thin line feel better, because as of right now, I doubt anyone can blur it as much as you.

Saturday, March 14, 2009

The Little Things

"I never did care for the little things" so says Maggie Hayward, Bridget Fonda's forgettable protagonist in the 1993 film Point of No Return, a somewhat bland and forgettable remake of Nikita. Granted the scene in which this line was delivered seems a bit macabre considering her partner was just shot by their organization's "The Cleaner" played by Hollywood bad ass Harvey Keitel and summarily dipped in an acid-filled bath tub.

Of course, the little things, or the details, are often best left ignored if you're the gung-ho devil-may-care maverick who prefers extreme spontaneity rather than well-planned and calculated decisions. But at the end of the day a certain balance must be struck or one will find themselves, as U2's Bono puts it, Stuck In A Moment that you can't get out of. As the global economy enters into a period of recession, the little things all of a sudden being to matter and prove to be worth caring about.

No we're not talking about the recent layoffs major companies have made, such things are pretty obvious and a man or woman's livelihood are hardly one would call details considering it's essentiality to survival. We're talking about the miniscule little practices or expendetures that prior to the economic "crisis", were things that we hardly take notice of.

Before, I wouldn't have to worry about making it to the next payday since I believe I make enough to provide for day to day needs and a few vices here and there. Two books a month, a gadget from time to time or a big time gift to potential prospect were items or purchases that I could afford to just wave dismisally as nothing. Nowadays however, despite the gas prices being the lowest it has been in years, I have to stop and think about if I have enough to make it to the next payday. All of a sudden I get thoughts like "that book will just have to wait" or "I don't really need that gadget" or even "She's not really my type anyway". You see, why I never really did mind the little things, shifts in the current status quo has made these little things into really big things.

I suppose the recession is going to last longer than we could hope, but in a somewhat strange twist, I feel that I can now manage my money better, and probably spending on bigger things like a trip to the beach or a long overdue vacation. Strange as that may sound, it seems that a wake up call was all I needed to adjust to the way the almighty monies is making the world go round.

So what does this have to do with Bridget Fonda's obscure flick? Well, there's a good reason why some films just suck, it's because of asinine lines like that one above. Which pretty much means, don't listen to it, and don't ascribe to such a mantra so wholeheartedly. Because it will just end in disaster and have you fading to obscuritySo while Bridget Fonda, my dear Bridget, will always one of my favorite faces in Hollywood, a femme fatale and uber sexy assassin she is not. OK maybe it could work, but certainly not with forgettable and non-sensical dialog like that.

P.S. Yes it made 30 million in the box office, but I bet you haven't heard of it or don't remember it if I didn't mention it now eh?

Saturday, March 7, 2009

The Day The Music Died

Americans refer to the Day the Music Died as the day that young and promising musicians Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and The Big Booper J.P. Richardson's died from a tragic plane crash on February 3, 1965. This is largely due to Don McLean's popular hit, American Pie. Now many ask themselves why McLean came to that conclusion, he did admit to the reference, but never explained himself, prefering to let the listening public decide for themselves why it was the Day the Music Died. Regardless, it was a much-loved song and the reference was considered Gospel.

March 6 was perhaps what many Filipinos would consider as the local version of The Day the Music Died. Of course, the 6th of March did not include a plane crash, nor did it include more than one person, and this person was certainly not young, but he always showed promise. It was tragedy nonetheless, as Francis Magalona, The Man from Manila, succumbed to the complications brought about by Leukemia at March 6, 2009.

I would argue however, that characterizing Magalona's death as a day that Filipino music passed away would be more apt, partly of course as to avoid the risk of betraying other legends such as the Apo Hiking Society, Jet Pangan and the Dawn, the Eraserheads, Hotdog, VST & Co. or even Gary V. Still, the legacy that Magalona left not just to Philippine Rap and Hip Hop, but the music scene in general, is undeniable. It wasn't just about catchy beats and socially relevant lyrics, there was an idea there, an idea that hopefully will be carried by other artists now that the Filipino Master Rapper is finally resting in peace.

Magalona was a firm advocate of patriotism that few might find questionable. His medium was very western (rap and hip hop), and most of his verses and rhymes were in the country's adopted language– English. But that's perhaps what makes his ideals and vocation great. FrancisM thought us to love what is Pinoy, a word that in itself , was a hodgepodge of many faces, races, colors, hues, voices and choices. The pretentious historical elitist or Ye Olde Internet Troll would argue that this was nothing more than an image, a facade to sell colonial mentality under the guise of patriotism. Nay, I say, as behind the words, the music, and the imagery was more than just a Marketing strategy, it was an Idea, and idea that I believe captures what patriotism really is, at least in the Philippine context and in my humble opinion.

Despite the very Americanized medium, what was evident in his songs and lyrics is the Filipino flavor. No, it did not have the Jose Rizal, Andres Bonifacio vibe, an antiquated idea of the Filipino identity (though important to remember) but the contemporary vernacular that majority of his listeners are familiar with. It wasn't about loving what is just natively Filipino (hard as though to differentiate that from the many assimilations that the culture has undergone) but everything we see, past and present. The message was not to be tied down by the historical nuances, the zealous hypernationalist sentiment that bordered on xenophobia, nor was it the backwards bariotic approach of Philippine high art. Rather, it spoke of what is in front of us right now. It told us that this is the modern Pilipinas, that despite the diversity and borrowed colloquialisms, the spirit is still distinctively rooted to this country and its people.

Was he a hero? Certainly not. He was a man with an idea, and a good one at that. Are we overrating him now cause he recently passed away? There's a danger of going down that path, but let the would-be afficionados talk, let them debate and argue. At the end of the day, this Man from Manila, with his music, his beliefs, his life, will always remind me that patriotism is about loving your home in totallity, for what it was, is and will be. That while the Philippines is indeed a melting pot of many cultures, subcultures and demographics, we are all represented under the banner of 3 Stars and a Sun.

Goodnight music man, may your music and ideals live on forever.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Friends

There is an inherent problem in this phenomena called friendship as it entails the need for a contradiction between the very nature and instinct of self-preservation versus the idea of co-dependency i.e. the need to protect and share with an individual or group of individuals. Granted, that such things are somewhat tied together. After all, there's always an ulterior motive, an agenda to forward, an urge to be satisfied. In doing so one actually forges friendships and acquaintances to forward the preservation of one's own person. The bonds of brotherhood/sisterhood or the love that may form from such dealings are perhaps mere positive externalities rather than the prize of such pursuits.

Trust is at the very core of this discussion. And truth is a lot harder to fathom than think. You can't simply go out and ask someone if they are a true friend, just as they can't do so to you. Interrogation, hanging out or bonding sessions can only reveal so much. Tragedy and turmoil can help clarify things but really, who wants to find out that way? In a time where communication has reached a point that two strangers a world apart can become good friends simply by being in front of digital machine, it is quite underwhelming that we, as a species cannot lay our entirety out in the open. We hide behind half-truths, deceptive lies and a facade that we may not even be aware of or deliberately weave.

Words, pictures, moments, touch. All do a great job reminding, maybe explaining, but they too, are susceptible to the complications. Getting down to the nitty-gritty, it's probably best to have your own little packet of grains of salt. But no, to do so would mean you're merely paranoid, or that you overthink these things. Doing the exact opposite would mean that you're either dumb as a brick or naive. Whichever one you are, you will find that in the end you're broken, and the only thing that's keeping yourself from the solution is the problem itself. The cause and the cure are one and the same, how delightfullly ironic.

Which brings us to the question, and I'm quite certain many have asked themselves this before, who are your true friends? As often as that is asked, I find myself bringing up a follow-up: "is there even such a thing?" Cynical, jaded, or paranoid as it may sound that query is interesting considering the above statement. The answer is quite simple really: who cares? Whether or not you have people who surround you, a circle that you can say are truly there for you when it counts, the alternative–loneliness–is certainly worse. Besides, I've found out the answer long ago, some four years in the past, and the answer is yes, there is such a thing. As for you, my dear reader, you get the delightful little task of finding out on your own, stumbling along the way. I assure you that there will be many tears along the way, but again, the alternative, being alone and uncared for, even superficially is far, far worse.

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Fear and Loathing in 2009

First, Happy New Year... to the poor souls who, for some unexplained reason, continue to read this blog. Now that that's out of the way...

As we bid adieu and good riddance to 2008, a year that personally is just another one in the long line of bad years, we now look to 2009 with baited breath if not a healthy dose of cynicism. Much like 07 and 08, the new year begs plenty of questions that, for some apparent reason pop up whenever the last number of the year changes. This leads me to inquire as to just what is it with people and realizing life questions based on dates?

For better or worse, 2009 is finally upon us. Which of course gives us the illusion of renewed hope and paper-thin vigor that we hope to see us through a chance for change. But for me at least, 2009 is more of a period that brings nothing but fear and loathing.

Fear, for the fact that was lies ahead I am pretty sure will be challenging if not depressing. Things don't just magically change or are we subjected a clean slate, a fresh start, a new dawn or what-have-you. In this case, it is the fear that my overly cynical views have jaded me to the point of numbness or better yet, blindness - Never realizing what good is in front of me and instead, go after that which can never be, or something overly dramatic and deep like that.

Loathing, for the mistakes that will eventually come back to haunt us in the new year. Which probably brings us back to fear, for the consequences are slowly but surely becoming a reality. In 2008, I was an idiot that decided I knew better yet knew pretty much nothing. I took the moral high road of nothing and ended up with failed aspirations, regrets and closed doors.

And yet despite all the negativity, I feel somewhat renewed. I know fully well that this year can and will get better, and not because I believe it can't get any worse, but because I know that I am wiser and stronger.

2009 will be coming like a bitch on a vendetta, but I can't help but smile. For better or worse, I relish the idea that at this year will be more interesting and amusing than the previous one with utmost certainty.