Inane Rambling

2010: The First 2 Months

2010-02-17T01:15:00.000+08:00

The problem with most people is that they tend to treat the New Year as a convenient reset-button that would erase all the setbacks they've undergone. Thus, they can rise from the ashes of their monumental failures with a clean slate, like some sort of phoenix that is made of win. From there, they can go on their merry little way making delusional resolutions and goals that are most likely, impossible or unattainable due to a complete lack of willpower on their part.

Of course, I myself am part of this collective called "most people" and would be branded a handsome little liar if I say otherwise. Because come on, it's so damn easy to think this way and perhaps even comforting to some degree. Heck, some might even recommend that kind of attitude, and sometimes they're right in doing so.

But you see, life doesn't change just because the number on the date changed. And it took two months of the so-called New Year to make me realize that. As one goes along, you figure that while there are a lot of changes going on, most of them aren't that big of a deal, or won't last long. As time passes, you will realize that the suck that plagued your previous year, hasn't really gone away. (Apparently suck has no expiry date)

Then again, that doesn't mean that you should abandon all hope. True change I believe shouldn't be planned, it should be realized, and simply done.

The Christmas Post that Was

2009-12-23T17:51:00.000+08:00

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.

Chapter End, Chapter Start.

2009-10-28T16:31:00.002+08:00

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.

It's Been A While

2009-09-03T12:56:00.004+08:00

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.

Game. Set. Match.

2009-07-07T13:21:00.005+08:00

[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.

Smile More

2009-06-26T10:09:00.005+08:00

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.

In-fighting

2009-06-25T13:39:00.001+08:00

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.

Right Guy, Right Time

2009-06-20T14:41:00.005+08:00

"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.

Damn You Subconscious

2009-06-04T10:34:00.002+08:00

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?

Things Left Unsaid Part 2

2009-06-03T15:59:00.002+08:00

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.

Enough

2009-06-02T15:01:00.006+08:00

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]

Yeah, that's about right

2009-05-22T13:53:00.000+08:00

Lost Causes

2009-05-14T09:16:00.000+08:00

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.

The Pursuit of Happiness

2009-05-12T12:13:00.000+08:00

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. .

Moments part 2

2009-05-06T16:33:00.001+08:00

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.

Ob-la-Di, Ob-la-Da

2009-04-29T12:40:00.001+08:00

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.

On Possibilities, Risks and Apologies

2009-04-17T09:49:00.000+08:00

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.

3:16

2009-04-08T17:44:00.000+08:00

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?

The Thin Line (An Ode to Perotto)

2009-03-24T08:00:00.000+08:00

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.

The Little Things

2009-03-14T17:42:00.000+08:00

"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?

The Day The Music Died

2009-03-07T10:05:00.000+08:00

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.

Friends

2009-03-05T17:26:00.000+08:00

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.

Fear and Loathing in 2009

2009-01-07T12:41:00.000+08:00

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.

When Wrong Is Right

2008-12-20T18:24:00.000+08:00

There are moments wherein we are forced to make a decision, the popular one and the right one. These situations may or may not be a matter of life or death, but the impact towards our lives are just as crucial. In these moments, something has to give, and mostly the true altruist is given the short end of the stick.

I was never an altruist, and I have yet to meet a sincere one, or at least a person who picks the right decision rather than the popular one, no matter the cost. I have always thought that I would be that person, the one who wouldn't care about personal happiness or progress and sacrifice even the dearest of relationships just to do what is right and what is just. The one who, despite the hopelessness, despite the neglect, would still care.

When it comes right down to it, if you truly care, unselfishly and sincerely, you would go with the right decision. People may question your intent, your agenda, but can you really live with yourself if you allow this tomfoolery and injustice to continue? Can you truly sleep at night that these very people who will question you know just as well as you do and do nothing? Will you truly sacrifice what you hold dear to protect/save/enlighten this person?

When Wrong is Right, nobody wins. And the pain caused, the tears shed, and at times, the blood spilt, are on your hands as well, just as everybody's.

Let It All Out (I'm An Idiot)

2008-12-09T12:47:00.000+08:00

Idiots will be idiots. You can try and show them the light but ultimately, that's all you can do. Show. Their decision to become part of the ignorant, the clueless and borderline stupid is their choice and their's alone. Don't beat yourself up about it, you tried but really, is it even any of your business? You've been shut out because you thought there was more to this idiot, too late, you say to yourself, and you find yourself in the exact place you were before you met, utterly helpless, angry at the how others who have more right to intervene than you sit by and let the idiot make a fool of herself all over again. Yet the guilt still binds you, and you can do nothing but keep it inside and observe, a painful reminder of your failure as someone who was once favored and trusted.

But what of hubris? What if you totally got it wrong? You were never shunned, simply inadvertedly ignored. But isn't that more painful, to be treated as an afterthought? And do you truly know the entire story? Perhaps you missed something, your senses have been wrong before and your estimations have currently been suspect. Maybe just maybe, you're lying to yourself, fabricating this notion that somehow this person needs you, when in truth and reality you are the last thing she needs. You ponder on a final confrontation, but you feel that it will never lead to anything, just like every other endeavor you've been through this year. Either way, one path is clear... walk away, yet you keep looking back.

A closed door or window means another one has opened or will open eventually. Exploration of new horizons are on the way, yet fear clings to you. You're afraid that once again you will screw it up. You seek something meaningful but find yourself reluctant to take the jump, because you know very simply that idiots will always be idiots, and you're one.

Like Clockwork

2008-11-12T08:30:00.000+08:00

We all have our routines. Rituals that, despite their repetitive nature, we feel at ease with. We may break from such behavioral patterns but we can just as easily get back into that fail safe practice. It's therapeutic in a sense, allowing us a little bit of control a world where chance is a cruel mother that just as soon nurture you and kick you to the curb when you least expect it.

In our own little world of repetition, we feel secure. A domain wherein our own idea of order is constant, we tuck away worries in preparing for the day. Consistency, that would've been nice if it lived up to its meaning.

Things change. That cannot be, ironic as it may sound, changed. Nothing is ever constant, and like any good thing, routines come to an end. Routines involve people and objects. People go away, and objects eventually deteriorate. Sure both are replaceable to some extent, but sometimes one cannot bring back what was lost.

When faced with the habit of initiating this routine, we find ourselves pausing, simply because what was once there is no more. Losing a long held treasure like a car, a house or maybe even pen can be inexplicably difficult to absorb, even worse is when a person is the one absent. The usual good mornings to the friendly doorman, the long chats with a dear friend... a kiss goodbye from a loved one... these are perhaps the most devastating kind of loss, because it is when the routine is broken due to their absence that the loss truly sinks in.

And you realize with finality, that things will never be the same...

The Players Have Changed, But the Game Remains the Same

2008-11-07T16:25:00.000+08:00

Obamania is currently sweeping the globe, a euphoric wave ripe with renewed hope, vigor and a taste of anxiety for things to come. The world bore witness as history was made, the first ever African-American President of United States of America. Pundits and armchair analysts (myself included) would opine about how this victory is for everyone, how the Afro-American Barack Obama took over the White House, perhaps erasing humanity's hate and bias towards our ethnic differences. Rejoice world, for the Black Messiah cometh.

Really?

You either die a hero or live long enough to be the villain. Harvey Dent couldn't have come up with a better way to summarize this phenomenon. Already the detractors, spin doctors and self-absorbed intellectuals are starting the engines to their propaganda of hate and vitriol. Ironically, Obama and any democratic state or nation would have no choice but favor such, it is in line with the principles that they claim to champion. The opposition of any government does serve as the catalyst for Obama's favorite buzz word: Change.

But is there truly change? Besides the superficial of course. The players have one goal and that is to wield power. For whatever their motivations, they find themselves building alliances, making enemies, and dancing to the beat of trends of the times. Platforms are made, skeletons dragged out of the closet, truths embellished. It's probably the dirtiest game there is, this game of Politicking. The depths have gone to a lot of highs, but more often than not they are shadowed by the lows.

In many ways, Obama was the perfect candidate. Articulate, relatively younger, and he was black. The scene was looking more and more like a Spike Lee movie minus the tragedy. The rich old white man is the villain and against great odds, the black man won. Still, with the previous Administrations' blunders, even if Obama wasn't Afro-American, victory would've been his IMHO.

The problem lies with how the world views this victory. We celebrate, but do we really know how the cards are spread? Do we know why this Obama's victory is good for everyone even though he represents one country? Or is this merely the sheep going with the flock?

"Black President. That's so cool right? I mean, I totally feel free since he represents breaking away from cultural indiference."

Go to hell bandwagonner, understand that this game is played differently than you think. Understand that behind that black man is still the issues and ideologies of those who believe that they know better.

For centuries the battle wasn't about race, culture, or whatehaveyous, they are mere flavors. The true struggle is going against our very nature of self-destruction and selfishness, to be united or cohabit to survive. It's a matter of balance between individual and the collective. Republicans want more control, Democrats want more privacy. The Easter dictatorships want unity/obedience, while the Western Liberals want their voices to be heard. Really, it's a matter of giving up individuality for a whole (not the greater good, because such things are relative depending on who you're talking too and what time it is). Whoever weilds the power gets to influence the scales to their favor.

Will Obama's turn at these scales bring prosperity and peace? Or will it simply be another replay of days past? Who knows? More importantly, who cares and why?

Moments

2008-11-05T17:46:00.000+08:00

Life is defined by moments. Every waking hour of existence is made up of moments with other people. Some we remember, some we forget. Sometimes these moments are significant, no matter how subtle or petty they may be. The simple things, as they are, often fall into the former. A simple smile from a child, an infant gripping tightly around your fingers or those awkward run-ins with the crush - these are the moments that mark us, that we cherish or look to when defining our perception of life.

"It's either you define the moment, or the moment defines you," so says the Roy McAvoy, Kevin Costner's character for the golf-themed romantic comedy Tin Cup. Delivered in true dead pan Costner fashion, the line is laced with the arrogance of a true slacker and dreamer who's hubris is realizing his mortal limitations. Moments can be defined yes, but we can, at the very best, influence them, not control them entirely.

Life is short, but a lot can happen in a short span of time. You can't hope to recall them all, but at the very least, you can recall the moments that made you do the way you are. Significance is relative, what may have been a small comment on your part may have been an Earth-shattering revelation to others.

For whatever moments that we encounter and remember, a degree of appreciation is needed. After all, if you can't recall the significant moments you've had in life, or with others, then just what kind of life have you lived?

Assumptions

2008-10-18T16:15:00.000+08:00

The Bad News Bears is a film about a cellar-dwelling baseball team that played in some Little League in some non-descript town in Texas. It was your typical underdog story meant to inspire it's audience via the premise that despite their inherent mediocrity, they can still conquer the odds if they pool in their talents. It's also about second (and third, and fourth, maybe fifth) chances, as represented by the team's alcoholic coach, Morris Buttermaker (played by the late great, Walter Matthau).

Having watched the abhorrent sequels that do the original little to justice, that theme seems iron clad. But perhaps the most distinct lesson I picked up from this dated film comes from the first scene of the original. Surprisingly enough, a mere extra is the source of this nugget of wisdom: "Never Assume, because if you do, you make an Ass of You, and Me".

Let's break that down: Ass / U / Me.

Clever eh?

Of course this sets a deadly precedent, if one were to follow this philosophy to the letter, one risks not ever taking risks.... wait.. what?

Anyways, lame jokes of wordplay aside, never assuming is just saying never take risks. Behaviors are predictable to some extent, that cannot be denied, but to not act upon them for fear of the consequences (Ass - U - Me) will lead to no progress. While such ideals are supported by the 2nd Law of Sexual Dynamics, there are times when laws are meant to be bent or broken. That's probably why it is called a risk in the first place. There is never certainty involved and most likely the consequences will most undoubtedly suck. At least that what's most optimist would like us to think.

Perhaps the middle part of the word's dissection is easily missed. Assumptions are fine if, and only if, the risk-ee (the one chancing it) will suffer all the negative results. We hardly stop to consider that maybe, just maybe, somebody else will also partake in the disaster that you so vehemently initiated. Nevermind the possibility that our ability to assess the behaviours that we've observed are way off and tarnished by our own dellusional egos. Assuming is like the Tango, it takes two, and the parties involved reap the benefits as well share the despair.

So what would be the ideal way of handling such things? There is no ideal manner in going about assumptions. At best what we can do is to always see it to the end, whether we succeed or ultimately fail.

Pictures (A So-Called Blog Post)

2008-10-14T13:24:00.001+08:00

Brian: I became yearbook photographer because I liked the idea that I could sort of watch life without having to be part of it. But when you're yearbook photographer, you're, like, never in the picture.

Most people may no remember where the above line comes from. Especially considering that it came from a short-lived series in the 90s that introduced the waking world to one Claire Danes. My So-Called life was emo even before emo was a word. Perhaps the failure of the show was due to honesty in it's dialog. Unlike shows like Dawson's Creek or One Tree Hill, it didn't have the eloquence that made characters seem more engaging or more world-weary than their supposed age. Instead we are subjected to poorly constructed Valley Girl English, full of "ums" and "like" which felt awkward yet honest and authentic. Of course, this meant that the tension was surreal and hardly fit for entertainment. Despite everything, the show had it's moments, and I tried to religiously watch it every chance I got.

Instead of a catchy rock ballad, the show only had this, I suppose they were trying to be edgy?

It wasn't long before that one season would end with the show getting canceled due to low ratings. It then proceeded to fade into obscurity with Ms. Danes' claim to fame being more recognized as a slew of movies which included a reimagination of William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet and the big screen adaptation of Neil Gaiman's Stardust. Still, like most young teens at that time, I was looking for answers in the wrong places, particularly more interested in the leading female protagonist who was, as that time, a rising star. Looking back, it seemed silly, but re-reading the quotes from the show with the help of wikiquote.org put the show in a new light.

The cast of the show, and yes, 3rd guy from the left is gay.

I specifically looked for the lines shown at the top of the post because it was one of the snippets of dialog that stuck to me. Brian Krakow (Devon Gummersall) played the token Nerg/Loser Guy for the show, who was secretly in love with the main protagonist Angela Chase (Claire Danes). The borrowed lines served as the opening narration wherein Brian shows just how much on an outsider he feels, yet seems to enjoy it despite the bittersweet predicament he usually finds himself in.

Personally, the concept of viewing life merely as an observer has its merits. The methapor is exquisitely sound since it's a matter of capturing moments without being part of them. Simply watching allows us to see moments as they happen, observe and guess what goes on through the lives of people without suffering the consequences. We save ourselves from the responsbilities of each action, viewing solely to judge, assess, and study; shielded from the negativities of these interactions such as heartbreak, sorrow, or pain. A welcome reprieve for many, but a huge price to pay if one considers the fine print.

At the same time however, we lose out on feeling the joy, the glory and the affection of such moments. Seeing happiness in people and realizing the pure joy that they're expressing isn't the same as feeling and experiencing it firsthand. The realization is empty and devoid of meaning. Simply put, we cannot expect to recieve such blessings without going through the hardships and the struggles that come with it. Otherwise all we have are hallow observations that lack the understanding of what such moments are truly about, a mere shell of that reality, a S0-Called Life so to speak.

Stepping back and playing behind the scenes is nice if looking for perspective, but all it offers is a look into a world without your influence. Step in, act, and react. Otherwise, succumb to the void and live in a world filled with glass borders where you get to simply watch life unfold and be powerless to affect it.

So Much Comes Back to Haunt Us

2008-10-11T12:35:00.000+08:00

This recent discussion in a microblogging site serves as the inspiration for today's post.

As an old friend and confidante used to say, the past is pass, or was it past? No, that doesn't make sense, we shall go with the former then. Of course, viewpoints on the subject matter of histories are nothing new, yet there seems to be a need for further elaboration. After all, if you've read the plurk, as they call it, what may be true before may not be necessarily true today, or tomorrow for that matter.

Barry Manilow's "Somewhere Down the Road", in all it's melancholic cheesiness captures the very essence of the above sentence. Indeed, "the right love at the wrong time" as it where, happens more often than we think. People's belief systems, personalities and quirks have been know to morph. The change is subtle, not clearly evident unless opportunities to test these changes present themselves. Perhaps one is to be blamed/credited for such a change, no matter, it is there and probably there to stay unless another anti-thesis requires the paradigm to shift. Two people may realize that what was once impossible or what couldn't be worked out can be revisited with renewed vigor and perspective. Love the second time around is sweeter, if and only if the parties involved learn from their respective mistakes and, if required, hand out the needed dosage of forgiveness.

But the very concept can be used in the reverse. Being aware of the changes (or the lack thereof) and what transpired in the past can serve as a metaphorical stop sign, if not a clear indication that that ship has sailed. Friendship may be the next best option, or worse, a deep-seeded pang of guilt, hatred, regret and fear could take the place of such remnants.

For whatever reason, the past will always be with us, perhaps not physically, but in our memories. What is important is to remember that it is the past, something that is done and over with. Remember it simply as one of the many footprints we've left in the waking world, there as a reminder of where we've been and how far we've come, and not a shadow overhead that cages us from enjoying what else life can offer.

A Crafty One that One

2008-09-20T09:21:00.000+08:00

There are few people who get my respect. Ok, that's a bold-faced lie, I respect a lot of people. Still, there are few people who I respect who fall in the category of bloggers. One such person is Mikey "Fucking" Villar, who, in his twisted little blogging world, dubbed himself the Rising Internet Star. Normally, such claims to fame would elicit my "watch me give a damn" remark. However as Mikey is someone who I respect as a fellow scribe and wordsmith, I find his work profound and informative enough to pick him as my Bloggers' Choice Award for this year's Philippine Blog Awards. But don't take my word for it, simply look at his majestic and elegant visage and you'll realize that you're speaking to one of the Internet's wisest men:

Uh huh.... yes, he seems very... respectable...
yes... talk about a buffet of man... li... ness...

Ok fine, the truth is I rather find his work amusing due to his uncanny ability to make fun of himself in a most humorous manner. But beyond the comedy and the self-depreciation ala Chandler Bing, Mr. Villar captures that old school dark and offensive humor that has been lost thanks to the pussification of civilzation as we know it. Sensitivities and political correctness is thrown out the window and made as a comedy act that covertly reveals our truest notion of what is funny. Face it people, you may think what he said is so very wrong on so many levels, yet you find yourself silently giggling as you read each homosexual innuendo and internet-tough-guy Schadenfreude that few people like the Rising Internet Star can deliver.

Like the title says, his a crafty one, that one.

Spirit of the Holidays (A Talk Like A Pirate Day Post)

2008-09-19T12:55:00.000+08:00

Holidays, be a mixed bag. Some be meant fer commemoratin' events in history, others be meant t' celebrate th' lives o' great (an' sometimes, nay-so-great) men an' lasses. Attachin' meanin' t' dates ben a common practice eresince civilization began. Then thar be some unofficial holidays that, fer unexplained reason, manifests from what once be isolated subcultures.

Talk Like A Sea dog Tide (TLAPD) be probably one o' th' most absurd holidays t' be conceived. While nay reckoned as an official event, 't perhaps captures th' very essence o' stickin' t' th' "spirit" o' holidays. Born from th' Internet, a dreary an' morally derived place, TLAPD stems from th' many subcultures that be jokingly formed through some dark an' twisted meetin' o' like minds. 't represent th' lighter side o' Internet humor in a way that one cannot help but be enticed t' 'tis motley invitation t' th' realm o' self-mockin' an' jack language.

While celebraitng petty thieves an' thugs o' th' seas, th' swashbucklin' truth be that, like many holidays, TLAPD be formulated by a collective, like some sort o' primitive civilization/tribe thin'. Really, I could go on an' talk more anthropology, but I scarely reckon such lessons. Still, th' idee or idee be under th' motivation nay dri'en by profit or swabbieal gain, rather as a way t' claim an' celebrate somethin' unique. Us Internet geeks got t' be havin' somethin' after all.

Wi' that in mind, TLAPD in all 'tis notion o' stupidity an' debauchery-inducin' existence be here t' stay. Whether or nay 'tis reckoned by th' powers t' be as legitimate be irrelevant. After all, we, th' free swabbiess o' th' Internet, will celebrate 't nay matter what.

Words Just Get In the Way

2008-09-13T15:03:00.000+08:00

Actions speaks louder than words and a picture is worth a thousand of them. We can say very little but mean so much. We can say a lot and mean absolutely nothing at all. The meaning behind them is what gives them weight. The voice reciting them is what gives them character.

But words are just words.

Conveying ideas and expressing emotions — That's what words are for. They can deliver the sweetest of lines that make us fall or deliver the saddest of news that make us cry. They can hide the deepest of lies and reveal the sincerest of truths. They entertain, they bore, they make us think, they make us question.

But, words are just words.

We say them outright, we say them so smoothly and so eloquently. We stammer through them, our diction faltering as we go along. We play with them, we struggle. We reach out and form relationships with them. We use them to cut ties and burn bridges, and at the same time, we trust on them to rebuild and reform what was once lost.

We whisper, we shout. We write, we sing. So tell me again, are words just words?

Et Tu Heart

2008-09-10T03:50:00.000+08:00

The human ability to comprehend the metaphysical has been somewhat of a curse and a blessing all at the same time. We can see through the cold and calculating objectivity of things and see the spirit or heart of people and things before us, granting ineffable results. A cancer patient surviving with only the love of the people around him or her to feed of off is just one such example. The medicine may not be a craft of perfection, yet the science behind it seems sound. Given that, it still does not compute.

On the other hand, the curse begins when, despite having a solid rationale present, we stubbornly cling to habits, beliefs and misconceptions. Denial and self-deception are ready-made weapons and infallible points, so take that you damnable brainiacs with your objectivity and fancy logic. Try asking a battered wife/girlfriend and you'll just end up thinking them beyond stupid. "That's what you get when you let your heart win," says Paramore lead vocalist Hayley Williams.

Our hubris is that we know better. And we have knowledge enough to circumvent what is plain as day. We hide behind words such as relativity, perspective and opinion to shield us from the frigid and uncaring reality that we deny on a daily basis. Even those of us who claim to live in this reality, these realist, are susceptible. We're all victims, and we're all willing to subject ourselves to such dementia and emotional turmoil.

Scrutiny of such behaviors are fun as well. We love to pass on our issues or opine on other's problems because it hardly affects us, or provides us gain.

But really, what really bothers all of us is because deep down we also know that we know better. But the ability to have contradictions in what we say, think, do or feel is what complicates things. We are betrayed by our very subconscious and instinct. You'd think that as evolved primates we could see past such bestial notions easily. Alas, that isn't really the case.

Escape

2008-09-02T14:30:00.000+08:00

There is nothing more therapeutic than finding a place of escape, whether physical or mental. Such places allow for a temporary exodus from the pains and ills of existence. The solace found in these places is what keeps us going. Some use external stimuli to achieve such ecstasy, often proving to be detrimental to one's health. On the other hand, those who find such outlets and turn in them productive activities are the lucky ones, it's not everyday one uses something as an escape and at the same time profit from it.

Escape is always temporary. Sooner or later, one must face reality and all its trials and tribulations. Escape can sometimes be the solution, but only indirectly. It conditions us to go on about the machinations of the eventual solution. For whatever reasons, everyone looks for an escape from time to time. We need it, we're addicted to it, we can't have enough of it. Yet we know that there is too little time for such, as the calls of reality are too strong to block out, unless we finally chose the path of madness.

The worst case scenario is when this escape is the problem. It's so much easier to cling on to something than to let it go. The notion of losing something, no matter how harmful, futile or idiotic, hurts. Healing from such wounds are slow, and often leave their lasting mark. They pile up, rending us broken and lost. It is painfully difficult. It rears its ugly head to haunt and plague the still-recovering mind. Yet, there is no true repose, one is just replacing it with another outlet, another form of escape. Hopefully, the new one proves to be of a more positive nature than its predecessor. Until then, all we can do is to keep looking.

Goodnight, Good Guy

2008-08-23T12:16:00.001+08:00

Perhaps one of the most underrated bands in the 90s, Collective Soul will forever remain, as one of the author's favorite bands. Debuting in 1993, the Atlanta-based band's Hints, Allegations, and Things Left Unsaid album contained a little gem of a song entitled "Goodnight, Good Guy". While the intro of the song featured an upbeat chord progression, the solemnity of the song and the message behind (at least to me) is where it derives it's magic.

"Goodnight, Good Guy" describes a person close to the song's protagonist, a male figure who, according to the chorus, imparts wisdom, comfort and guidance. As the stanzas progress, it is implied that Mr. Good Guy here is seemingly gone with a clear indication of the protagonist's longing for the man's company. Toward the end, a resolution as made as the singer finally accepts the reality of this absence and lets go.

August 23 marks the 62nd birthday of a great man, who I have the privilege to call father. Conrado "Dodie" Casas de Leon may have passed away nearly 4 years ago, his legacy and memory remains with several people otherwise known as my family. In a sense, he was my "Good Guy" and much like the singer, I miss his guidance, his advice and more importantly, "be the one to tell me everything's all right."

While the last couple of years have me in stumbling through life feeling lost due to his absence, I am, thankfully, slowly getting back on my feet. A big part of that lies in the knowledge that somehow, someway, my Good Guy lives through me. The values, the memories and the love that he gave me will see me through to whatever path lies ahead of me.

So Dad, thank you for everything and happy birthday. I'm gonna let you sleep, Ill let you fade off in the night. I pray the lord to keep, I pray the lord to hold you tight. Goodnight, Good Guy.

Things Left Unsaid

2008-08-22T12:12:00.000+08:00

In a somewhat expected act of pedantry, I found myself proverbially shitting bricks after watching a crude anime show called Detective Conan. While I don't understand how a high profile detective is drugged and has gone missing for several weeks does not raise any kind of clamor in the investigative community much less the protagonists social circle (nevermind he re-emerges as a child that is adopted by his girlfriend's family), the series does have its merits. While not in the realm of Sherlock Holmes/Dr. House M.D. investigative genius built upon meticulous observation of detail, the cases are mind boggling enough to keep one entertained for an hour or so.

This particular episode dealt with a rockstar (a royal douche that looks like the bastard child of Cloud Strife and Vash the Stampede, I don't even wanna know how that is plausible but that's the first thing that stuck to my mind) who is poisoned by his manager and ex-bandmate who is pissed off because the victim kept making her sing Rudolph the red nosed reindeer. Later it was explained it was due to that prior to being band manager the killer was not attractive and had undergone surgery due to being apparently madly in love with the victim. With me so far? It gets better.

Turns out the victim would've reciprocated that love but is upset because of the surgery, making him a bitter, bitter man who continously agitates the love of his life to the point the she sumarrily kills him. How tragic.

Of course the story is surprisingly deep for a Japanese animation with a 7-10 year-old manchild as a the lead. These two people, killer and victim, could've avoided all the pain and tragedy had they only had the heart to express their true feelings for each other. As cheesy as that sounds, how many do we know fall to this same trap and end up wallowing in several, cooked-up "what if" scenarios.

While the consequences of failing to express true intent may not be as dire as depicted in the show, such situations are still somewhat tragic. Of course, there is wisdom in having certain things best left unsaid. But more often than not, this situations are best put in the "ignorance is bliss" category.

For every action is an equal reaction. The principle is that keeping mum about such things are a way of playing it safe and avoiding to solicit a reaction. Of course, the problem with such a concept is there is no stimulae that would otherwise generate an outcome. And stories without outcomes can be quite annoying.

Whatever it is that left unsaid, may eventually come to light, or fade into obscurity. At the end however, being able to said what is needed to be said can grant a sense of release, whether the outcome is favorable or not.

Shame I can't seem to follow that logic sometimes.

Secrets

2008-08-20T16:03:00.000+08:00

Everyone has secrets. No exceptions.

Some secrets exist because of hope. Hope that things in the end will work out, or will simply come to be. Despite the logical flaws, the improbability of the situation or the scenario presented, hope floats as a beacon of delusions that mar better judgment, the decision to simply walk away or act upon it. So the secret remains hidden, shared to few if at all. The truth being the most effective lock to the proverbial Pandora's Box of failed aspirations, pain and regret.

Other secrets exist as a byproduct of goals, ambitions and agendas. Kept only to forward these clandestine goals. Such trump cards are used for devious and noble means. They can harm as well as they can protect, all dependent on the wielder's discretion. Knowledge is power after all, and even the most nonsensical fact and fleeting tidbits can prove vital given the right situation.

However, secrets are not predicated on those two alone. Shame, hate, pride and a bevy of human emotions are reasons enough to keep things hidden from others. Whatever secrets lay behind the minds of a man or woman, they are tucked neatly away because of fear, fear that the truth, the harsh and brutal truth will be known and the facade will be ultimately washed away.

Truth is not only the lock, but it is the key as well. As it is, secrets are truths, for good or ill. The deepest and darkest secrets are the truest and purest. Whether malicious or not, the honesty and the sincerity of such cannot be questioned.

Secrets when revealed are often amusing, shocking, if not downright sad. They explain many things, one's hopes, one's agendas and one's true intent (obviously). In the end however, the best secrets are those that can be said without Hope or Agenda, but simply said in all of it's honesty.

So to someone very special, this I say unto you, hoping and aspiring for nothing but for you to know, that I love you.

Sadly and perhaps fortunately, you'll never really know.

Don't Dream It's Over

2008-08-19T13:39:00.000+08:00

Dreamers are often stereotyped as idiots who chase rainbows and fall flat on their faces. Meanwhile, most dreamers would like to be seen as people who make their own reality to achieve their dreams and goals. While it may sound ludicrous to claim at first, but truly, looking at it there isn't much difference between the two interpretations.

People who overextend their ambitions towards the ebb and flow of the sea of reality are shunned for the mere fact that well, what they wish is at best improbable. Now, dreaming is free but that's just the very problem. One must usually gain something at a cost. Being stuck with the notion of "dreams are free" is counter productive. Achieving dreams usually come at a great cost or at the very least, a compromise in the existing situation.

Until one finally understands that making dreams come true comes in exchange or sacrifice of something else, then perhaps the ability to manipulate factors and strive towards the goal will be sufficiently possible. Not a guarantee but perhaps failure in this case could lead to a new dream or the REAL dream that one was blind to in the first place.

This however begs the question, at what costs will one be willing to pay just to achieve their dreams?

Histories

2008-08-12T13:35:00.000+08:00

Those who refuse to learn from the past are doomed to repeat it.... or some hogwash like that.

While everyday man and woman do not live in times of turmoil that are the makings of grand narratives like that of World Wars or epic hero ballads, it is our relationships that serve as our version of history.

While deceptively mundane, a person's history is an amusing read at what he or she was, has become and quite possibly, will be. In fact, looking back at all those long list of friends and significant others that have come and gone is an enlightening activity that should be done whenever the current situation permits.

Majority of people would prefer to keep such things hidden or forgotten. People preach the need for closure and sometimes the best way to achieve that is to retrace one's steps. Closure is nice and all but sometimes a lesson must be learned. A relationship that ended and thought you nothing is a waste of time and more than likely just as deep and meaningful as that last fling or one night stand.

Some may get it right the first time and not even have a chance to build a history. These people are either so ridiculously fortunate or are in for a severe and disappointing ending. Shit happens.

Still, having a history and being able to recount it with someone who's shared that history is an experience that bests describes progress. People change, perhaps retrospect will allow one to view the history in a new perspective, and coming into peace with that will assure that regret will be kept at bay.

Face it, the past is just as much as a part of life and viewing it as something irrelevant is folly and ignorance in its purest form. So pick up the phone, call someone from the past up, and maybe, just maybe, one will learn something that day.

Auspicious Day

2008-08-08T12:13:00.000+08:00

August 8, 2008 (08-08-08) is considered by many as an auspicious day. Merely because of the numerical coincidence and not much else. Others may attribute a negative connotation to such days depending on one's religion or superstitious orientation.

But really, is there such a thing as an auspicious day? Can the Lady of Fortune's (or Misfortune) smile truly shine the brightest on days of numerical significance? Luck, as it is, seems to be on everyone's mind on such days, an epidemic that may simply condition impressionable minds to do things they would otherwise not normally do.

Perhaps it's all in the mind. We consider it to be our lucky day because we've fooled ourselves to thinking that it is. A man may suddenly get the courage and confidence to reveal certain secrets under the influence of believing illogical flights of fancy. If things don't go his way what then? The blame has to be placed somewhere and it is somewhat convenient to once again to place on unforeseen circumstances outside of the mortal ken.

Of course, there are times that such things do turn out for the best. Indeed a dash of confidence can do wonders, no matter the source. If it works, it's probably adequate. A mindset can do so much to change outcomes and situations. Scenarios are run perfectly given the right mindset, or so wrongly if the contrary is true.

Still, it's a lot like saying that thinking positively allows us a modicum of control over the situation. As if the, by sheer force of will, we manipulate the forces around us to a favorable outcome. That would be such an enticing idea, if we can just forget the fact that other people actually have their own scenarios, agendas, mindsets and that little thing called free will. No big deal right?

Auspicious day or no, it is the mindset, the belief that drives us to do amazing feats or fail miserably. But if that mindset is brought about by a paper thin belief of luck on certain moon cycles or geometric position who really cares? In the end, all that matters are the results.

Happy Birthday Mrs. De Leon

2008-08-02T16:26:00.000+08:00

August 2 marks the birthday of the woman who gave birth to the Rambler. Now, now, don't go chasing her with pitchforks and torches, not her fault that her infernal progeny would turn out to be senseless hack and overanalyzing prick.

Despite her provincial upbringing, mother dearest has tried her darndest to provide for the family even after losing my dad to pancreatic cancer some 4 years ago. Even before that, she would always find ways to put us through school or provide all the vices and pleasantries of modern life. The Rambler only wishes that he can achieve half of what they've done in this lifetime.

That's the great thing about GOOD parents. They know us more than we'd like but they never really rub it in our faces (unless it's the tired and tested "in my time, we were poorer" speech.) They may have their faults and most of the time we don't get them, but hey, we have our faults and most of the time they don't get us! Somehow, the saying "you'll understand when you start raising your own kids" begins to make sense. Trying to deconstruct such a concept is a waste of time. It's just true and you'll get it when you do get there.

So to my mater, I thank you and I know I don't say it enough. I love you.

Protection

2008-08-02T14:56:00.000+08:00

Protect the ones you love is such a simple principle. Individuals that are linked to you through kinship, mutual understanding or admiration are the ones that enjoy such a privilege. While few people can really claim to be altruistic, the idea of defending those we care about is crystal clear logic, despite evidence to the contrary.

Of course this begs the question, what if that show of obvious affection is not reciprocated? What if efforts to belay harm from the mark does not even warrant a reaction much less recognition? Is this a sign of blind martyrdom or vain attempts at soliciting a reward and forward an agenda? Why protect someone who doesn’t even want you around?

Selflessness manifested in this manner would seem ultimately hapless. However who is to argue that the reasons given to continue this futile crusade are faulty? Never mind that perhaps the reciprocation or reward could still be remotely possible. Given the right context, this could be a clear sign of unconditional love. It’s a rare context but it does seem probable.

Is discontinuation the best option? Persistence is an admirable trait, no doubt. However one is exposed to the danger of foregoing other opportunities due to the effort exerted in protecting this person.

Protect the ones you love IS a simple concept, but we should always remember to protect ourselves first. After all, if you can’t help yourself, how do you expect to help others?

Great Expectations

2008-07-31T16:54:00.000+08:00

The problem with a the whole charade that is dating and courtship is that there is a definite beginning and a definite end. We like someone, we ask them out, get to know them and pop the question. Sounds easy enough, but chances are majority of such pursuits have resulted in pain, anguish and heartbreak (even if he or she said yes).

While it is entirely possible that there is life after the end of ritual dating between two individuals, or a possibility of a second, third even fourth chance, the flow is still the same. Perhaps thinking too much over the sequence of this overly complicated process is what makes it so difficult. We usually come in with great expectations, positive thinking and the like, only to have our still-beating hearts thorn out in front of us and eviscerated to bloody little pieces.

"Like-liking" someone usually leads to love or cowardice. You either go for it or sit back wallowing as opportunities pass by leaving you with nothing but a fistful of regret. Even if you did muster enough courage to test the waters, the beach at the other end may not be what you expect it to be. However, one must ask, is it quite possible to simply enjoy the swim and not worry about getting through to the other side of the river of relationships and even accept staying there forever? If only we could be that naive and blind.

It may seem half-hearted if not guarded, but really, such a mindset would allow one to actually enjoy the company of the intended mark without hoping for a "yes" or an "i love you". Expectations are all good and well, but more often than not they lead us to think that a certain action or deed equals something similar. You give her flowers or treat her to dinner equals you getting lucky. Either that or you try to entice your friends to drag him along so you can have an excuse to chat. That's not how it works with people with free will. Sure you could always woo and seduce but they work differently with different people. The best we can do is to make our intentions known and hope for the best. Now you know how God feels trying to win you over and doing nothing about it because he gave you free will.

The game of love is fickle, whimsical and, if you'll excuse my language, a vapid bitch. No matter how much of a nice guy you are (and usually being called one is a death sentence or at the very least a lifetime membership to the friend zone), that doesn't necessarily mean the other person is obligated to reciprocate or be grateful.

Expect the worst, hope for the best. Make a good impression if you must but don't ever think that helps, unless one is fine having the prospective partner simply agreeing to the relationship on some ludicrous sense of gratitude. By then he or she isn't doing both of you any favors. If one truly wants the real thing, present your case and be done with it. After all, what is heartbreak but a momentary event of pain?

Two Sides of A Coin

2008-07-29T12:22:00.000+08:00

After finally getting the chance to watch Nolan's much-anticipated chef-d'oeuvre, Batman: The Dark Knight, there was only one word that can sum up my feelings for the latest iteration of the Caped Crusader: AWESOME.

Say what you want about taking comic book movies seriously, but as it stands, The Dark Knight wasn't treated as just some comic book flick produced to appease nerds or a family movie cash-in. Rather, Nolan et al decided to tell this story with the same amount of attention any self-respecting director would approach literary classics like the Count of Monte Cristo. At the end of the day, making a film is about telling a story, and The Dark Knight did exactly that, tell the story of Batman/Bruce Wayne in awe-inspiring and meticulous detail.

But making a review was never this author's intention. As the tag suggests, this post was made to ponder and ramble on the themes and abstract concepts tackled by the film's script. So onwards to the inaneity.

The inclusion of the main protagonist's arch-rival the Joker was probably what catapulted this movie from great to simply epic. The late Heath Ledger did well in portraying the most engaging rogue of Batman's gallery. The Clown Prince of Crime, in his mad and deranged glory may seem like a simple criminal in clown make-up. Going beyond the image however, the Joker becomes a caricature of order. Society has a set of rules, based upon fear of consequence and what many consider is sane. Take away those rules and the world seems bereft, pointless and all at the same time amusing. Self-preservation becomes the only rule and even then the vacuity of it all makes that meaningless to a point. Some men only want to see the world burn. After all, isn't it all a big joke, imaginary rules, order and whatnot. In the end all that does not matter. Or does it?

In an interesting twist of the age old Prisoner's Dilemma, the movie delivers probably its greatest scene. Two boats, rigged with explosives, one filled with civilian's, the other filled with the inhabitants of the city's correctional facility. Each boat is given a detonator (that activates the other boat's bombs) and an ultimatum. The logical and pragmatic solution would be to save the civilians and let the convicts die. This twisted irony is perhaps the script's crowning glory and people may not even realize it. Never mind that Batman saved the day and stopped the boats from being pink mist, this just shows that even sinners, rapists and murderers, can have a hint of decency, and the decent law-abiding citizen, can be just as cold and heartless as they are. While Batman claims that not everyone is like the Joker and the experiment failed, the notion that the big dog amongst Gotham's scum doing an act of sacrifice actually proves the Joker's theory, post-humously.

Perhaps as an ode to one of the greatest Batman novels ever written, a sort of Killing Joke-ish angle is explored throughout the movie. As the novel suggests, sometimes all it takes is one bad day that even the best of us can just snap. In the film, the proverbial White Knight is the incomparable Gotham district attorney Harvey Dent. Despite being the celebrated high moral compass of the city Dent succumbs to the madness of betrayal, formulating his own concept of justice dictated by chance, represented entirely by two side of coin. Fortune was on his side as Batman takes on the polar opposite of Dent's moniker. As the Dark Knight, Batman remains the guardian of the near-dystopian Gotham minus all the glory and acclaim.

A parallelism between the two arch-rival eventually emerges. Both obviously have serious mental disorders (tell me jumping around rooftops dressed as a bat isn't crazy, nevermind being dressed as a clown and committing crimes). However they operate on conflicting spectrums. As always, Batman's crusade is one that is frowned upon by many, the brutality and destruction to property notwithstanding. Still, the detective in Batman is evident, still following the methods of law enforcers only circumventing the rules that hogtie them into doing anything worthwhile against criminals.

The Joker on the other hand does away with the traditional mien of criminality. The motivation is simply for amusement and disturbing pleasure, a crusade to prove that anyone, given the right circumstances, can go bat-shit insane (pardon the pun). It's not money, vengeance or what not that drives him, but simple down to the basics anarchy.

In conclusion, the author would highly recommend a second (and third, and fourth) viewing, if only to rediscover the many themes of the human psyche explored by the Dark Knight. It is somewhat fitting that the 2nd villain, Harvey "Two-Face" Dent is caught in the crossfire, his signature coin and two-face represent the opposing natures of both Batman and Joker. As well as the duality of their respective crusades, which has the two fighting it out in see-saw battle of intelligence backed up by relative insanity. An epic battle that only Nolan can truly capture in film.

Changes

2008-07-24T12:20:00.000+08:00

They say that the only thing permanent in life is change.

Now before one goes on and claims the apparent contradiction, keep in mind that the more things change, the more things stay the same. Bravo Snake Plissken, despite being the stereotypical chauvinistic and gritty anti-hero, you surely showed a bit of depth with that nugget of wisdom.

People change, times change, the paradigm shifts and everything goes to hell, and back again. Whether it's the End of History as the old grand narratives of the Cold War, the two World Wars or the many wars of antiquity have come and gone, or a Clash of Civilization wherein the Age of Information has us in constant conflict due to our diverse belief systems, the natural progression, it would seem, is that of conflict.

There can really be no change if there is no conflict, on the personal or socio-political level. Lovers won't break up if there is no conflict, direct or indirect. It may be due to infidelity or simply the two moving in opposing directions. Nations and countries are mostly built around conflicts, war, protest or the people having an opposing view of the incumbent regime. It is not a question of violence, but rather the presence of an anti-thesis to challenge the existing model.

This of course begs the question, can change actually be proactive? Considering the idea of being proactive was born due to the ineffectivity of reactive behavior, that kind of makes the question null and void. Change for the sake of change maybe considered a proactive stance but then again, considering how such policies are merely for show then I guess that puts that idea in the crapper as well.

Is change then aligned to conflict and to a point, entropy? Perhaps there is truth to the saying that one does not need to fix what was never broken. Following that logic and applying that to people, can we truly change without being broken at first?

The Heart of the Matter (Forgive, But Don't Forget)

2008-07-23T12:11:00.000+08:00

The Heart of the Matter, at least according to Don Henley, is forgiveness. Of course, the hit song, according to Henley, took him 42 years to write. While clearly an exaggeration, the concept of forgiveness does take a long time to conceive. With mankind's penchant of having personal biases, the very idea of accepting faults is somewhat contrary to one's very nature.

Then again, Henley did say that the song only took 4 minutes to sing. Once arriving at the point of admission, accepting the guilt and error of one's ways, everything just seems more streamlined. The healing is easier, faster. Once done with any notion of grudges, things are more agreeable, pleasant and understandable.

Forgive and Forget. The age old adage does lend some wisdom. However, forgetting would mean being unable to learn from past mistakes and errors. There is no wisdom in refusing to learn one's letters.

To err is human, to forgive divine. Indeed, being slighted is never pleasant. Notice however that there is not mention of forgetting in this similarly overused phrase. For whatever trespasses and transgressions received, it would be safe to assume that forgiveness will eventually come. Forgetting the entirety of the situation, the sins behind it all, on the other hand, is nigh impossible.

However, the hardest person to forgive is usually one's self. The practice is commonplace, people would feel better placing blame into something or someone, the self being the most convenient culprit or scapegoat. Boyfriend cheated on you, more likely than not, it has to be your fault. Somebody dies, it's your fault, you tell yourself. Such rationalizations make no sense to the outsider, but makes a mountain of logic to the bearer. It is mankind's curse of free will and ability to empathize that allows such things, and often these people find themselves broken.

Such self-pity can be comforting really. Majority do not want to admit it but it's a just so damn easy to explain everything with inherent misfortune. Perhaps it is time that people just stop and think to themselves "Have I forgiven myself already?"

And I say to myself "Yeah, just now..."

Where Has the Time Gone?

2008-07-22T13:42:00.000+08:00

Nowadays, seems like the reunions with friends of old are becoming too far and few in between. What is troubling personally is seeing how many children are popping up in the pictures of old acquaintances in various social networking sites. Usually meaning I'll end up getting an invitation for either a wedding or a baptismal... a clear sign that the days of innocent (well, actually, not-so-innocent) youth are slowly but surely coming to an end. It's only a matter of time until everyone I know is organizing children's birthday parties and I can't have any cake because I'm too old...

I just realized that I've forgotten more than I can remember. Looking back I could never figure out how I was able to argue that having public offices like government owned enterprises where best run by treating it like it was under the private sector and that the best public administrators are those who do more by doing less (i.e. steering instead of rowing). So many principles the theories I no longer recall where I could once write circles around them. Perhaps I should've saved those papers, might prove to be insightful despite that being of a different mindset.

It felt like yesterday that all the cares in the world where so distant that didn't warrant any attention. Used to be getting the paper or the schoolwork done was life and death. Concerns of the real world and what the future holds were more fleeting, and were shallow at best. There may be times that they pop up like that annoying guy who keeps asking you what's up even though you don't want anything to do with them, but still the episodes were short and felt like they were not canon to our personal continuity... until it's too late.

Regret is a sure sign that one is growing older. It's like a drug, we say we want to stop looking back and wishing things would be different, but we just can't help ourselves. We keep coming back, and we hate ourselves for doing so. Regret, as some may have surmised in the many ramblings prior to this entry, is a loathsome word that seems to brandish its dreary self more often than we wish. Whether we like to admit it or not, we all live through our regrets. It defines us in more ways than we think it does. It is a lot easier to be something we don't want to be than to be something that we want. Ambitions are more or less anchored by flights of fancy and going beyond possibility. Regrets and fears are usually based on a grounded rationale. Guess which one is more plausible?

People who say that they have no regrets are the people who've figured it out. They're not fooling themselves, they're not delusional. They understand the concept, and they embrace it. They don't kick themselves or sell themselves short every time they turn back to regret like a crack whore. They accept its part in reality and how in the end, success and failure, despite being polar opposites, follow they same laws of the universe: They are memories associated to them... and like most memories, they are destined to fade.

The Joke's On You

2008-07-19T11:41:00.000+08:00

Jokes are a devices meant to generate mirth, humor, laughter and general amusement. In the hands of the talented and eloquent, jokes can make light of weighty situations, obscuring the seriousness and presenting a more casual perspective. In the hands of the dubious, jokes can hurt, belittle and cause even the most meek of lambs into raving lunatics or the stoic to whimper. The more intelligent of us can make into art, often reflecting the current paradigm, or proving insight hidden between the lines of witty delivery.

The punchline can be so right on the money that it can even be more cruel than any crude and blatant insult. It hits right at home, cutting deep and proves to be more sad than funny, and yet we can't help but laugh in the sheer honesty of it all.

The funniest persons I know are usually the saddest persons I know. Humor is but a way to cope with the world's brutal ass-kicking we receive on a daily basis. With their insecurities and hang ups, the funny man, the comedian amongst us finds solace in making others laugh as a way to veil their own sadness. A joke that best describes this is taken from Alan Moore's Watchmen:

Heard a joke once: Man goes to doctor. Says he's depressed. Says life seems harsh and cruel. Says he feels all alone in a threatening world where what lies ahead is vague and uncertain. Doctor says "Treatment is simple. Great clown Pagliacci is in town tonight. Go and see him. That should pick you up." Man bursts into tears. Says "But Doctor... I am Pagliacci."

Context plays a critical role in the telling of jokes. One cannot illicit humor if the intended audience "isn't in on it". The relationship between a comedian and his/her audience by itself, serve as the very basis of the joke. Accepting that would mean that sometimes witty one-liners and zingers tells us more about the relationship, the dynamics behind it and why it exists.

Jokes are cultural, meaning what may be funny to a Frenchman may go way above the head of Somalian, obviously. Again, it reflects the popular paradigm that exists in that culture. Is it any wonder that majority of comics are also the smartest people around? Yet again, while the hahas and guffaws are plenty, taking a long look at the punchline usually results into a different perspective to a seemingly hopeless situation. So much so that the best we can do to cope with it is to make it sound cynically humorous.

One is led to ask why? Why is it that the comic in us would consider grave circumstances as material for our latest jape? Is it perhaps, that for us, life in itself is one big joke? Paraphrasing a quote taken from Alan Moore's Batman: The Killing Joke, is everything some monstrous, demented gag and we have no choice but to see the funny side? What if we refuse to see it? or worse... what if we don't get it?

See the Unseen

2008-07-10T12:41:00.000+08:00

Mama San once asked me what ever did happen to my supposed post on our trip to Baguio. I had grand ideas for that post too, even coming up with a rough outline like what most organized writers do instead of my usual "type until a make some sort of sense" technique of writing. I'd talk about the climate, the people, the food - ah such illusions of grandeur that perpetuate the mind of a hack.

Instead I'd prefer to keep Baguio ingrained in my mind and refuse to share it with the world because I don't think my words can ever do justice to the awesomeness of that road trip. I will however, touch on something... shall we say... unnatural?

Recently my interest in the occult and the paranormal have been piqued the past couple of days, perhaps because I recall being traumatized by certain movies in my childhood, one of which was the original Omen. Hence, my hatred towards small children who just stare at you and keep quiet. Seriously, tell me that's not creepy?

Speaking of out-of-town trips, one of the hazards of partaking in the great outdoors in a country which has a rich folklore like the Philippines usually means that paranormal stories and legends add to the flavor of the trip. That made absolutely no sense, but I don't really care, it sounded like it was profound and it meant something... whatever.

Mama San is gifted, or cursed, with what we call the Sixth Sense. "I see dead people" is just the tip of the iceberg, so M. Night Shamaladingdong only touched on very little on the aspect of ESP or the Third Eye. These people can also see beings that are not visible to the naked eye. You know, the underpants gnomes, them hobbits and fairies. Now you would think I would scoff at such things, but it is my firm belief that one should never discount the presence of beings beyond our understanding... I mean, come on, Britney Spears?

That said, I am absolutely certain that I'm blessed not to have such "gifts". On the other hand, the paranormal has a degree of appeal that leads me to keep coming back for more. Be it unexplained elements of a picture, strange smells of local flowers like a sampaguita while walking in isolated and poorly lit environs or mysterious knocks on one's bedroom door despite having no one there every time you answer it.

What is it about the unseen that stimulates man's imagination? A world within ours not seen by the naked eye does sound intriguing... but at the same time, I personally think it's somewhat depressing. Imagine a culture secluded from ours, knowledge unknowable to us for we lack that extra ability to see the unseen. Oh the things we could learn from one another.

Of course, while I see the missed opportunities of learning and sharing with an alternative culture, one that is beyond our imagination, I'm not for stirring the hornet's nest. To paraphrase the bastardize Hollywood version of Alan Moore's Hellblazer's Constantine, "You see them, they see you." Truly, sociological pursuits are the least of my concerns when faced with something that scares me honestly. Perhaps further exposure and understaning would take that away, but really, I'm just human. After all, it is simply in our nature to be afraid of the unknown.

Influence

2008-06-26T15:53:00.000+08:00

True to the stereotype that plagues anyone who graduated from my beloved alma mater, I found myself sipping coffee in a lobby of a five-star hotel last weekend listening to some lounge music. While I have certain reservations of perpetuating that tag roughly translated to female genitalia, good music and pistachio cake made it all worthwhile.

The topic was somewhat strange considering present company at that time. While Mama San is your typical workaholic honor-student, I never figured her to be one who would appreciate mor abstract topics of art and literature. On the other hand, Jay, while not without depth, rarely discusses anything of philosophical and artistic value outside of his shirt business and forays into the realm of romance. Yes, the relationship challenged people were at it again, overANALyzing silly details of our inability to find significant companionship other than our crazy little troupe.

I find it somewhat strange that just because we were situated in a place of supposed sophistication and "class" that our discourse would touch upon high brow subject matters. It's quite awkward discussing my influence admiration to the works of Alan Moore, Jim Lee, Chris Avellone or Neil Gaiman outside of an online forum. Pleasantly surprising was Jay's wonderment for Vincent Van Gogh and the late George Carlin, something that was a totally unknown to me, despite knowing the douche bag for nearly a decade. People can indeed, surprise you from time to time. We needn't ask Mama San's literary influences, for fear of having to remember some overbearing statistical business drivel of a certain multinational corporation. Either that or I simply didn't give much of a damn simply because the lovely Mama San prefers romance novels, something that I wouldn't even consider good bathroom reading. No offsene meant Mama San.

I've alwasy considered sharing one's artistic and philosphical influences good coversation material. It presents me the opportunity to try and outgeek everyone else while throwing obscure internet culture in a real world setting. It also allows one an in-depth analysis of other people's personality and psyche. While it doesn't necessarily paint the entire picture, a small teaser is more often than not a good launching point for further inquiries and discussion. While this may sound like a bunch of new age hipster talk associated to Mactards who sip coffee in Starbucks while updating their Friendster/MySpace/Facebook/Twitter in their overpriced plasticky gadgets, it does have merit.

Assuming that influence is anchored on admonisihing the rhetoric of that person or that body of work, certainly we can derive an idea of how to place this person in our personal lives. While perception and adoption of such concepts aren't fully accurate, the notion that such beliefs can embed themselves in our minds presents an interesting, and sometimes amusing, dynamic.

Of course, that doesn't mean that influence alone can tell you of a person's ideology or belief system. Obviously it is just one aspect, and as I've said, merely a launching point for further investigation. To do so would create a situation ripe with conflict.

But what about the self? Would reviewing the various influences, and the changes in one's own view of such influences offer an appropriate venue of self-assessment? I don't see why not. Growth is best measured by seeing change or the lack thereof. What compromises that have been made or whatever conviction remains can tell us a lot of what we've become.

Thinking about it now, it seems that sharing one's influence is a selfish act with the positive externatily of learning about those who we share with. Besides being able to show who's got the bigger intellectual penis, we can step back and ponder on what we've just shared just then and compare and contrast from what we would have said years before. It wouldn't be too weird to shit bricks after realizing how much has changed or has remained the same.

Kicking the Habit

2008-06-16T20:58:00.000+08:00

I type this smoking probably (and hopefully) the last few sticks of cigs I will ever smoke in this lifetime.

Strange that the idea of quitting a habit as unhealthy of smoking hit me recently. Granted, most people would plan and pain themselves considering how and when to quit. I figured that in the spirit breaking such a habit, it would be best to do it abruptly, if not out on a whim. That's just my style I guess.

No matter what the motivation behind such an idea would be, the fact of the matter is doing kicking a habits is a means to an end. Habits are nice, sometimes they can identify us, differentiate us, and even endear us to certain people. I doubt however, that the habit of smoking falls under such a category.

Granted, the biggest obstacle is perhaps psychological. I've embedded it into my head that smoking stimulates my mind and imagination, perhaps as a switch of sorts to turn stimulate my writing.... but really, looking at it now, I seem to have used that only as an excuse to prolong my addiction to nicotine. No more.

There's something to be said about habits and how it affects us. We use habits as a means to put ourselves in a place of comfort, a zone of certainty wherein we are the masters and we know exactly how things will turn out. Habits can be good or bad, that much is true. However habits should never define us. People might remember us because of certain quirks and habits, but I daresay that such things are never truly part of our inherent nature. After all, to be human is to realize our flaws, our quirks, and to the ability to chose to keep them, encourage them, or to do away with them entirely.

Going cold turkey is never easy. In fact the odds of succeeding seem very minimal given the statistics of quitting smokers. But all things must come to an end. My only motivation is that this was a choice made selfishly. Not for anyone and not for anything but myself. Perhaps I will succeed, eventually, or fail, but will surely try again. Still, the idea of deciding on something easily without contemplation gives me a good feeling. In the grander scheme of things, this isn't just about preservation of health, but a challenge of the mind. An inner-struggle to prove that I am not bound by habits and that I have control over my self.

It all sounds oh so melodramatic, but it doesn't have to be. As I see it, inner-struggle is an everyday thing, we all act normal and go on about our usual days, but in reality, each and every person battles conflicts within themselves. The surface may seem all calm and serene, but underneath lies a maelstrom of reason, emotions and inklings. Sometimes we may not even be aware of our own battles with ourselves.

While this started out as narcissistic blabber on my decision to kick the habit of smoking, it eventually, and expectedly shifted to narcissistic psycho-babble about man's nature and the conflict within, all the while stubbing out a stick not even half-way through.... I suppose I'm off to a good start.

But it'll be a cold day in hell before I think about quitting coffee though.

Luck

2008-05-31T16:48:00.001+08:00

Just recently did I realize someone had sent me one those damnable chain letters via email. Granted this one did the usual shtick with a little bit of panache: A Chinese proverb in a power point presentation. While I wouldn't mock people who send me such things, I do however feel the need to rant on it given the ludicrous suggestion that something like this could bring me luck. Never mind that the past few weeks has found me in a fouler mood than usual.

Luck, is not something magical, it's simply a word that is attributed to randomness and invisible probabilities. The phrase "it's better to be lucky than good" can be twisted to become an excuse to people who would prefer to not improve upon skill. I believe in luck, but I never rely on it.

What is sickening to me perhaps, is that I almost actually thought of sending 20 copies of this... drivel to 20 other people. As if I finally admitted that I'm getting a bit desperate and would gladly welcome a guarantee that my supposed luck would turn around after 4 days. Fortunately (and it is somewhat amusing that I say that word) such ruminations are passing and I regained my senses quick enough to dismiss such a notion.

Whether these things are true or not is besides the point. It's all a matter of principle. If I ever got what I wanted out of sheer luck, I would be filled with a certain amount of positivity. But somehow that wouldn't feel as gratifying as gaining something I struggled for. In the immortal words of Kalapana "I want the real thing or nothing at all". When you get lucky, it doesn't feel AS REAL as something that was accomplished through your own actions. Of course, that doesn't mean that I would deny such fortunes, but it wouldn't hurt to aspire to recieve something that your deserve for the sheer reason that you struggled and endured for it.

Courtship

2008-05-31T10:10:00.000+08:00

I never really believed in courtship. Granted I've tried it before (successfully and unsuccessfully). But as we grow older it just seem like a dance, filled with the usual pleasantries and tried and tested modus operandi designed to put the best foot forward. While some of that could be sincere, you can never take away that it's all a big giant act, a show, a charade. Theatrics meant to woo an audience with a promise that the script won't change. Unfortunately, that's not really the case, whether you want to believe that or not.

I'm a firm advocate of putting down all the cards, for both sides. "These are my quirks, my idiosynchrosese, my flaws and my true feelings towards you. Let's see if we click." Why is it so hard to do this? Granted there are couples who start off as such, but they are more the exception rather than the rule. Admittedly there is some appeal to age-old romanticism surrounding the practice of courtship, but in this day and age wherein gender roles are evolving to be more and more similar, the appeal is easily lost in steady stream of complexities. The premise (which is mutual attraction between two individuals) remains mostly the same, but the setting has gone beyond the innocent and arguably naieve narrative of olden times.

Instead we're still playing chess, hiding our true motives with a series of strategic feignts, positioning and whatnot. Maybe that's why they keep saying there's a thin line between love and hate. That's not to say, one shouldn't send flowers, forego serenades or pass on writing love letters and poems, but rather ask for something that should be present in any type of relationship: Honesty.

"You Complete Me", is just about the biggest crock of bullshit to come out of popular media. Admittedly, at first glance it does sound sweet, romantic and heart warming. But ultimately it's in line with this incessant web-weaving of deciet that I've been ranting about. Even worse is that despite how much I like the movie in which that line originated from, it's hardly in context and you don't really see how Jerry Maguire was incomplete withouth Dorothy Boyd.

Maybe, instead of fiinding someone to complete us, we should be complete for the ones we love. Because it is at that point, when we find ourselves complete, that we can come up to someone and tell them "I like you. We click, we get along. You know my agenda, my intentions. Your interests and mine may or may not coincide, but I feel drawn to them. What say we explore this and see if this goes deeper?" It is only when your convictions are true and sure that this will come of sincere.

Then again, this could be why I've been single for two years....

Sensing the Inevitable

2008-05-22T14:32:00.000+08:00

There are times when people get a quasi sixth sense, a sort of intuition. The ability to see things beyond the obvious (and sometimes, see what is obvious yet overlooked by many) and predict the impending outcome of situations. It's not magic or innate psychic abilities, but more of a combination of years of experience and wisdom with regards to human behavior that provides these unexplainable moments of clairvoyance.

Most often than not, these moments are best characterized as moments wherein one wishes to be wrong. "People can surprise you", true, but it wouldn't be called a surprise if it happens frequently enough. How then, should one handle such scenarios?

On one hand, you have optimism. Go against gut feel and logic and risk it all. While the Rambler has always ascribed to such reckless, devil-may-care choices which results to a pittance of fleeting regret, we cannot take away that feeling of self-loathing. A resonating "You knew this would happen" plays over and over again in our heads - an afterimage of stupidity, irrationality and a constant reminder of pain. This leads us to question: "was it worth it?" Despite knowledge that the game we are about to play a game that cannot be won, will the moral victory of saying "at least I tried" overshadow the realization that we fell to the grips of idiocy and futile wishful thinking?

On the other hand, we could salvage our pride and dignity by simply killing off such thoughts and feelings. Maybe even walk away, lick your wounds and focus on moving on to the next prospect. As defeatist as it may sound, it is quite difficult to refute the logic. Pull back before you get in too deep. Pain would be minimal, but would there's always that nagging feeling that could easily turn to regret or contemplation of what might have been.

Then again, what if you were wrong? What if, despite all the clear and obvious signs, you actually misread the message? Or maybe prevalent cynicism and negativity has clouded your judgment?

You'd think that having such foresight would prove beneficial. But why is it, whenever we sense the inevitable, we are more conflicted at what to do?

Another year older

2008-05-16T14:37:00.000+08:00

I stand on the precipice of age, a quarter of a century in existence. It is quite overwhelming, given that it feels as the years just flew by. But it is also endearing, as I look back to all the joys, the laughter, the tears and wisdom gained along the way, I find that there are still many things in store for me. Most of which would probably never cross my mind today. 25 years is a long time, yet it still feels like I have only finished the first leg and everything seems new again.

Life is a journey, so they say. As we go through it we pass by multiple crossroads and paths, leading to answers (if not questions) on what to do with our mortal lives. Excuse the usage of banal statement, but saying "It's not the destination that counts, but the journey" is probably the truest statement comes to mind. After all, in life, the destination is, as much as we hate to admit it, death.

Experience is a gift. To deny that is foolish. Whether good or bad, memorable or not, anything we experience shapes us, molds our being and contributes to our growth. What I've been through, what I am and what I will become, I owe it all to experience. Still, no matter the cards I've been dealt, the decisions on what to do with them, lies solely on my choice and my free will.

What to expect now as I hit the big two-five? I don't know, and frankly I don't care. Take life as it comes. To plan is good, but in a world that prefers randomness, chaos and unforeseeable probabilities, even the best laid plans tend to falter. Accept and adapt. Savor the moments, enjoy, partake of life's cup of suffering and joy. That is what makes it worth living.

Define Attraction

2008-05-09T12:27:00.000+08:00

According to WordNet:

the force by which one object attracts another

an entertainment that is offered to the public

the quality of arousing interest; being attractive or something that attracts

a characteristic that provides pleasure and attracts

drawing card: an entertainer who attracts large audience

Obviously, that doesn't answer the title. After all, the context of which the title was formulated is quite specific but does raise a valid query when speaking of interpersonal interactions, relations and what-have-you.

There can never be true significance to a relationship without attraction. Notice that the word true was added to that statement. After all, there are still people out there who are capable of deception and manipulation. The question really is whether or not attraction is immediate or gradual, if not both. Should one abandon all hope of progress simply because there was no initial attraction taking place? Of course, this raises the immediate objection that there are external factors influencing that decision. Bad experiences, personal biases, peer pressure and ability to read people are among the chief elements why such notions are made. However, there are times when individuals just get it right the first time, first impressions may last or gut feel can immediately tell one that this isn't worth pursuing.

On the flip side, and if you're familiar with the Disney animated film Beauty and the Beast, particularly the song Something There, there might actually be something there that wasn't there before. The correct term would be "it grows on you", then again the possibility of self-delusion i.e. wanting it so badly that you start rejecting reality is highly probable. Still, the wisdom in looking beyond the facade or under the tip of the proverbial iceberg is quite difficult to challenge.

While our mileage may vary, the conundrum of attraction befalls each and everyone of us. Even misanthropes, since well, they are still human and sentient enough to realize the need for human contact. The problem of determining it's presence is but the first step. Then one moves on to a more dreadful phase.... what to do with it.

Answers

2008-05-07T12:59:00.000+08:00

Answers are, and have always been, a scarce resource of human civilization. Granted, answers can be easy to get given the right approach and/or resources, but really, how many of us have that capability? For the rest of us tortured souls, the answers we seek require a bit more questioning, time and luck. It is even unfortunate that due to certain circumstances that we face, some of us will have to suffer never getting answers to the questions that plague our conscience. Truly a breeding ground for regrets and failed aspirations. Meh, you'll live.

Then again, there are times that the answer simply comes with no work on our end. It could be in the form of self-realization or external stimuli. Frankly, such things are quite welcome considering just how much better it is to know what the score really is rather than be in the dark on such personal matters. Creating allusions to the truth, blinding and misleading. A lot more painful and disheartening in the long run to be quite honest.

The difficulty in knowing the answers is dealing with accepting them, if not the repercussions associated with them. Worse even, it seems answers always come in the form or rejection or disappointment that one is forced to ponder on the benefits of being clueless vis-a-vis knowing the truth.

Once accepted however, the answer becomes a thing of humor, a lesson, a reminder. It serves as a case study that you were once foolish, naive, and petty. I've always said that recovery is just a matter of getting to Point B from Point A, the in-between may be difficult, painful and depressing but you will eventually get there.

Questions

2008-05-03T12:21:00.000+08:00

We've all experienced times when we, after an activity or long day at work, are forced to go into a auto pilot state. Of course, the state is hardly without brain activity, as the time spent on this long arduous trips back to our place of dwelling is reserved to more introspective matters. This commute is reserved, rather, for internalizing a million questions in our mind, wondering how this day, or the events prior to it, could've gone another way.

Once alighting your vehicle of choice, the outside world seems to hardly matter. The wonders of the human brain comes into play, despite an absence of focus, we manage to find our way home, whether driving or taking numerous stops via public transportation. Some may claim this time to be therapeutic, and it truly is.

We finds ourselves asking questions that we fear to ask another person, simply because the notion of vulnerability this implies scares us more than any we can imagine. The truth, the most honest to goodness facts are there, ripe for picking. While a few close confidants may know or have an idea of such, they will remain a closely guarded secret. As for how long, that, to be quite honest, is relative.

Was it something you said? Did you do the right thing? Should you have waited or did you wait too long? Should you have said the truth? Maybe it would be better if you lied back there? Would it better to just forget it? Is this something you will regret? Is this what you really want? Were you being stupid? Do you really love her? Does she even feel the same way? What does this mean to you? How will this affect you? Can you even go through with it? Does she know? Do they know? Think you can trust her? Can you trust them? Why are you even asking yourself this questions? Will you even find the answers? When the time comes, can you really say that you will do the right thing, or falter in the end like you've always have?

More often than not such questions have no answers, thrown into the winds of the mind, floating, never finding reprieve. While being plagued with such questions are maddening, it only lasts for the duration of the trip. What seems like countless hours was actually only a few minutes, and then it's over.

You find yourself empty, filled with uncertainties and nothing more. While this may constitute as self-inflicted torture to some, the mere act of asking them, even internally, is a form of release. Because as each question is left lingering and unresolved, you realize that in those few short moments, you confided in the best person in that situation: You.

Zeezoobic

2008-04-23T21:50:00.000+08:00

Recently, our gracious employers had the courtesy to send our rag-tag group of misfits and Internet meme geeks to the beaches of Subic. This so-called recreational trip, dubbed Zeezoobic, was months in planning, and the anticipation was on an all-time high. Granted, I already went to the former-military -base-turned-tourist-spot the week prior, the idea of mentally dissecting these diverse individuals was a welcome distraction to the day-to-day boondoggle that we subject ourselves to.

Of course, such long trips would require us to rendezvous on the godforsaken hours of the early morn like some deprived, militaristic gaggle of grunts. Suffice to say, the best solution for some was to forgo the comforts of their own beds and relatively clean bathrooms. Considering I had a prior engagement that night, I decided my best course of action was to give the Sandman the proverbial finger and make him wait until I was riding the bus before I succumb to his restful whispers.

True enough, I arrived early, lacking sleep and in desperate need of a caffeine fix. As exhilarating as the dawn's breeze was, the long trek on foot to the only convenience store of worth and the decision of skipping my usual 4 hours of slumber was beginning to prove foolish. Still, this was caffeine we're talking about, and God forbid I miss out on my daily intake.

The bus arrived rather early, which was a good thing as it only enticed us to consider further the hedonistic pleasures that we were about to be subjected to. Then again, perhaps hearing one such as myself asking for someone to lead a prayer erased all that, a foreshadowing of what lies ahead is a bizzarro world wherein the Rambler is actually religious. Guess what, there is that bizzarro world and you're living in it. You think you know, but you have no idea.

The trip itself was a blur, this was a far cry from my other travels with those of my usual circle of ...well, friends. That, and I was asleep majority of the time except for eating meals and answering the call of nature. I could go on and ramble further about the philosophical value of dreaming in a moving vehicle but quite frankly such things are best kept secret.

In the instance that we arrived I immediately felt the urge to gather insight upon seeing the pristine waters and fine grains of sand that lie before me. The rays of the scorching sun licking my exposed epidermis and the salty sea air has a mystique all on its own. Yes, poetic bullcrap once again, you'll get that a lot when the Rambler travels.

The food was a welcome development, any self-respecting kampampangan will tell you that. Insult their cooking and you're in for a world of fast-paced verbal assaults the likes that would make even the most brutally dry British tosser blush. Other things of note was the various amenities available to visitors. Clean bathrooms, karaoke machine, a makeshift volleyball court, jetski, banana boats, a billiard table and a gigantic chicken that probably owed its existence to Chocobos. Yes, this little shindig was proving to be well worth the price of admission (Seriously, the bathrooms alone are worth it).

Onwards to the itinerary. A pseudo-Amazing Race activity built to explore just how twisted the minds of the committee members are when it comes to formulating subtle tortures toward their fellow man. Weeks of scheming would come down to this, and expectedly, road bumps marred our well-planned gauntlet. Still, there's something about seeing co-workers suffer through a series of tests of your own making. Let's just say the Rambler felt a warm and fuzzy feeling inside.

The rest of the day allowed all to enjoy the amenities Sunset Cove had to offer. Despite the atrocious heat of the sun and sand, the time spent was quite relaxing. While the concept of seeing colleagues scantily-clad in their swimwear provided new... erm.. observation towards such persons, it was the landscape that proved to be quite impressive. The refraction of the setting sun's light against the calm waters painted a wonderland of orange and purplish horizons. The mountainside was donned with a tangerine veil that only added to their enigmatic aura. Greens and blues gave off a different tint, making one think this was some sort of messed-up crossover collaboration between dirty hippies and a drugged-up Van Gogh.

In a manner of moments, it was nightfall and this means only one thing. Booze and merriment. While the unfortunate few may have missed the happenings of that evening, those moments, those little glimpses of possibilities will live on in my memory forever, for the sake of blackmail of course. I could go on detail on the events that night, but then again, let that be our little group's secret. While the Rambler did wish for certain things to happen or to develop, the idea that everyone was enjoying themselves was perhaps enough, and whatever selfish reasons I had were best left in the back burner, or better yet, forgotten forever like the futile pursuit that it was.

After awakening from alcohol-laced sleep, I was surprised to find out most of memory was still intact.... much to my chagrin. Still, this day could only prove to be even better. While it was less controversial as... say, the night prior, the enjoyment was still present. By the way, beach volleyball is fun, as long as the ball does not come to you.

It was time to go home and it felt bittersweet. The idea of going back to your comfort zone is always nice, but leaving Zeezoobic felt a lot like leaving unfinished business. Whatever that business is, I don't know. Still can't help shake the feeling that there was something that I should have done. Meh, such musings are boring at best I always say.

The return to normalcy can be a downer, but the idea of going back knowing that we bonded with each other can be quite exhilarating and overwhelming at the same time. I'd like to think that Zeezoobic is but the first step to a lot of things in our little slacker company's future. For ill or for better, Zeezoobic will always be ours, no matter what.

Sometimes, Games Are All We Have

2008-04-15T22:12:00.000+08:00

It is quite normal that people associate life with games. After all, there are certain rules that govern our existence, some to be followed, bended, or simply broken. Some people are better at it and some are not. Suffice to say, whether we like it or not, we all play our own little games.

Our propensity to play these games differ from person to person. At the end though, it is all a matter of knowledge. Knowledge on the other players, the field of battle, our own capabilities and whatnot. Some use influence, physical beauty, sweet and enticing words, wealth and other creative factors that can help in managing the hand we've been dealt with. There's something to be said about people who can do this on conscious level over those who only do it subconsciously. Frankly, caution with dealing with such individuals is the first reaction, unless of course one is capable of going with the tide of the game, scheming, plotting and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Otherwise, it is only pure luck and the randomness of human emotions that decide the outcome of such unbalanced interactions.

Now, this may sound all diabolical, only because this Rambler does not ascribe to the notion that such mind games are intended to one-upmanship and harm. Games are meant to be fun after all. The witty banter and clever retort of two scribes, the listless dance of flirting and the mystery of budding relationships can prove to be just as complex and strategically interesting as the most putrid and disgusting web of lies some players are capable of weaving. Games, just as anything that mankind can cook up is a neutral tool - its intent, motivation and moral direction dependent on its wielder.

The more serious of us would claim that life is not a game. Yet the metaphor matches so well that one wonders if such ideals are but another way of playing. While these people may believe in their hearts of hearts that they are not partaking of such parlor activities, others may still be playing with them, or worse, playing THEM.

After all, try us we might, the world does not revolve around any of us, and a thousand games, each with their own set of rules and nuances, are present in all interactions and relations we have. But there is something that holds such things together, something deep and meaningful, something that goes beyond mere games. Be it genuine interest or the sincere longing for social interaction, the games we play may actually revolve around that very thing. Whatever it is, it must be really worth playing for. Otherwise, and it would be quite melancholic to think so, games are all we'll ever have.

What dreams may come

2008-04-04T17:18:00.000+08:00

Dreams have always boggled mankind. A bevy of mental images strewn by our complex subconscious, dreams hold many meanings, some of which we easily misinterpret. Even the so-called experts of dreams have yet to find the definitive truths regarding the uncharted realm of our minds. Of course, can we really blame them? Consider for a moment that no two people are exactly the same, and then you have numerous ideas clashing together in a maelstrom of emotions, biases and whatnot. It wouldn't be a stretch to claim that dreams are unique to their owner, oh no, not at all.

I like dreams, they are certainly preferable to nightmares. But nightmares are just bad dreams, a representation of what we do not fully comprehend. It is simply our imagination twisted by that ignorance, giving birth to the bastard children of inherent reluctance to the unknown and lack of understanding of what is beyond our bubble of knowledge.

I would daresay however, that certain dreams are far worse than nightmares. Take for example, a dream that presented itself quite recently. In this lifelike vision, I saw the past change, shifting to a more desirable outcome, one that has eluded me in reality. Oh Lady Reality, you heartless bitch. How I loathe and adore thee.

What made this imagery even more loathsome is presence of a current prospect, forced to watch as I shut her off abruptly from the possibilities of our collaboration. Would she really care? This musing was fleeting, as bliss took me captive, promising a delightful prison of which I would joyfully cage myself into, or so I thought. While the dream was indeed so life-like that I found myself asking if this is really happening, the truth was slowly beginning to manifest itself. Starting as a slow murmur, it built itself up, slapping me silly and finally reminding me of the cold, harsh truth. This was not real.

One might ask, why do I consider this vision distasteful? Surely my truest desires are coming true, only in my head yes, but the normal reaction would be a pleasant one, correct? It is perhaps my new found grasp of morality, or despite how badly I want this fake reality to come into being I know it to be nothing but a lie. It's a distinct possibility that I did not want to ruin the present, no matter how uncertain it is. Or maybe, just maybe, this was not what I really wanted?

It is for this very reason that despite waking up without the cold sweat and uncontrollable shaking akin to vivid incubi, I would gladly welcome such minute irritations over the nagging feeling of mixed wonderment and muddiness. The aftermath of having dreams that border between true desire, clairvoyance and wishful thinking have a tendency to make us stop and look, wondering what might have been, what could be, and even what may never be.

Questions have a way of popping up like mushrooms, and in this case the figurative fungi was sprouting out in full force. Was I looking at an alternate reality, a path that I was unable to explore in the storyline of my existence? Or was I looking at a sign that there is a second chance and would ignoring this sign close that window of opportunity for all eternity? Or was I simply looking at the mirror image of my regrets and failed aspirations taking shape in my dreams?

Dreams like these, hopefully come and go, however the fallout - the markings - that they leave will probably come back to haunt us over and over again, and unfortunately, the answers and the solutions, may never come to us in this lifetime.

A Trip Down Memory Lane

2008-03-24T12:15:00.000+08:00

Maundy Thursday started off quite differently than expected. After the previous night of revelry, binge drinking and playing mind games, a phone call in the early morn was came as somewhat of surprise.

Shaking off the hangover, the voice behind the call was somewhat familiar, it was only seconds after that I realized that it was my dear brother, asking if he and his significant other could join the previously but hastily planned trip down south in the valleys of Tagaytay.

After asking my companions for permission, one that they immediately considered unnecessary, I got up and prepared for this long-awaited sojourn. Granted that having a drinking session last night was a probably a bad idea, but I was hell bent on going on this trip, by hook or by crook.

It was in my residence that we first gathered, my brother and his SO, and my long time douche bag that I otherwise call as a friend. Calling a cab to our house (surprising they're still active at this point in time), we headed to the next rendezvous point. An old friend of the days of our youth came in her brand new black Honda City. Suffice to say this trip was indeed down memory lane, literally. Considering that history between all five of us would span nearly a decade. God, I felt old.

Traffic was expected. Being stuck with four other people in a sedan may not be appealing on a comfort level, but the exchange of tales made the long crawl of the Godsforsaken South Luzon Expressway bearable. Shock and genuine interest hung in the air, finding out people you knew back in the formative years proved to be quite disconcerting. A sign that perhaps age has finally caught up with us and the calls of maturity would soon engulf our seemingly carefree lives. This and that were either married, getting married, had a kid out of wedlock, already up to their nth child or just left the country never to go back. Bah, it was silently agreed that our little collective would delay such things as long as we could.

The first stop was uneventful, a short break to partake of sweet, sweet nicotine and menthol, all the while discussing plans for the midday meal. While the agreement was that we were to dine in a restaurant not found in the Metro, we ended up in a pseudo-Italian restaurant.

In consolation perhaps, the view of Lake Taal made this lunch experience different from the usual. Brother dearest pointed out the crater of the small and dormant volcano submerged some hundred feet below the lake. Lake Taal seemed, at that time, a picture perfect example that even some of Mother Nature's most destructive tools can be beautiful, given the right form, in this case, dormant volcano that isn't spewing molten magma and covering the clear skies with its foreboding ash. A wee bit poetic perhaps and unfortunately, there might be more of that later on.

The meal was enticing, pizza ala Fruti de Mare, buffalo wings reminiscent of those found in Don Henrico's, Beef and Mushroom Calzone, and Putanesca that was a bit bland, save for the flavor given of by the capers and olives. I asked for a watermelon shake, only to complain that our friend got hers in a waaaay better glass. (I swear, the waiter either has the hots for her or that guy has something against mestizos, racist bastard). The topic was our juvenile exploits of yore. Granted, we've done this storytelling so much that the "Oh my god!" shouts gets old, but not this time.

The next stop was suppose to be Bag Of Beans, a quaint little coffee shop with a view of the lake. Instead, we ended in the cliff house, a little spot with a garden, posh restos and kids. Lot's of kids. We spotted a nice young lady and started debating whether said lady was one of the mother of those diminutive weapons of mass destruction. While the view was breathtaking - lush green valleys smothered in the cloud's shadows and all that - we couldn't help but feel that we were both too young and too old for the place. Families gathered lugging their little tykes of terror all over the place, elderly people sat in their tables, sipping coffee with wistful eyes looking at the horizon, perhaps reminiscing of the days, weeks, months and years that have gone. Our little quintet was content eating ice cream sitting on the bench while their world, these... vacationist, go on about their little businesses, whatever they may be.

It may sound strange, but sitting here with this group provided insight beyond your usual Sunday Mass sermon. Trusted friends have a way of providing the answers to questions that plague the mind, formulation of grand schemes comes easily and before you know it, the blue horizon turns gray, then black, while the bitter chill of the night finally strikes us motionless, forced yet again to marvel at the lake. Meh, poetry was never my strong suit and my prose is getting quite dull.

The trip home was far from melancholy. As the day ended, our club, this collective of young, spirited and relationship challenged group (save for my brother and his SO) would be the beginning of something good. Despite the day's premature end, this was but a mere taste of what was to come.

Labels

2008-02-28T14:09:00.001+08:00

After finally conquering the mind blank that has plaguing me for weeks, I've finally slew the dragon that is my inability to find a topic and raise the flag of my so-called creativity to write this post. So the sane people of good taste may start quivering their in boots and pray that they do not fall into the 0.00001% of the population that reads this infernal and sorry excuse for a blog.

Now that we've gotten through the unnecessary and long-winded self-depreciation we can go on and place something after this sentence that relates to the title.

I'm a gamer and a geek. There is no denying that and I am rather proud of it. I like the idea that I am actually of above average intelligence (how humble) and be a complete dumbass at the same time. For the following months, I almost forgot this vital detail of my persona. Well, after the purchase of a portable gaming system (and the eventual repair of my gaming PC), I have once again acknowledged this detail as a core value of my existence.

But gamer and geek are just two of the labels that make up the entirety of this sad, deluded and charming entity (that would be me, but seriously, if you couldn't figure that out then I suggest you take a comprehension class). I'd like to think that I'm a fudie at heart and one of the few living conversationalists left on this Godforsaken earth. If you're familiar with Planescape, one could say I'm a bit of a namer to the Sensates (in other words, I value the experience or seek a variety of experience and appreciate them, negative or positive)

But to say that we, as sentient and feeling organisms, are made up of combinations of hundreds of labels would be stupid. We're not programs, this is why Artificial Intelligence, for all its' calculating consistency cannot contend with humanity's ability to be unpredictable.

If you've come this far, you're probably asking what's the point? I would then suggest that you drop your email address so I can send you a picture of that Nelson kid in the Simpsons pointing and laughing at you with his trademark "Ha! Ha!" But no. The point is, we can label ourselves all
we want, or other if we feel like it ('tis fun, mean, but fun, ask a certain emo person I know how much I derive pleasure from such a mundane activity) but we can never truly predict what we do or what we are capable of. Labels can give people an idea of who or what we are but they also give us room for surprises which I think what makes mankind the dominant species in God's green earth. So I say unto you, dear reader, cherish your entropy, it's what gives us the ability to nuke the whales.... and the sense not to.

I Got Nothing

2008-02-19T17:40:00.000+08:00

The thing about writing is, we always go through a phase wherein one cannot conjure the words or the idea needed to piece together a string of sentences that constitutes a written product. Many writers try different techniques to get "in the zone" or break through the much fabled "writers block". Yours truly could go on and give a few examples, but really, anything under the sun can be considered conducive in getting through "the funk" so to speak.

Whether the imagination has been depleted or the coffee was severely bad, or the usual object of scorn/admiration we find in the media was the same old drivel/gold mine we've seen or derived from, this "block" happens.

Fortunately (or unfortunately), this blog is about absolutely nothing. So I can pound away on my derelict keyboard like a monkey on some lethal combo of sugar-coated bananas and grade A speed and post random words and sentences as a poor filler for my shortcomings in imagination.

But truth be told, there is something fulfilling about getting away with absolute bullshit. It's certainly not the thrill of fooling innocent web surfers into wasting their precious 5 minutes (of course if you're still reading this, you're probably as bored as I am). It is perhaps, that through the composition of this post, I was actually able to beat the "block" no matter how ultimately deficient of value this post is. Well, maybe not deficient, but completely devoid would be more appropriate. Empty this victory over self-limitations may be, at the very least, I have an update.

So basically, I just admitted that I have absolutely nothing to write about, and wrote about it....

....

I don't know whether to be happy or depressed at how inexcusably bizarre that is.

Dying with eyes closed and an open heart

2008-02-13T09:13:00.000+08:00

If you haven't watched the Bucket List, the movie gods demand that you do so immediately.

Like the many pieces of modern art that has been discussed in this contemptuous journal, this author would be damned if the philosophy encased within the thick lines of cinematography and dialog were not explored.

The premise seemed simple enough, two men about to die making a list of things (mostly reckless activities) before they "Kicked the Bucket". As one can easily surmise, this movie was just ripe with realizations and epiphanies packaged in either tear jerking moments or witty exchanges.

One could go on and just post a review but that's not the point now isn't it? Two quotes from other masterpieces of contemporary art kept popping up into my mind while watching this movie. "A Man's mortality is a compass that points his way in life." The quote, which is taken from Trias the Betrayer from the game Planescape: Torment, further illustrates that when we are faced with the inescapable truth of our own demise, we get direction. Why else are people rushing to gain riches or garner treasures whether they are physical or otherwise? While one can argue that this is not the consistent case with regards to the two main characters of the Bucket List, a closer look would tell you that they do indeed ascribe to this, the only difference being that after being faced with a clear time limit to their mortality, Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson's characters let go of the fear of losing their way, and in the case of Freeman, there is a scene that illustrates this clearer.

The second quote was actually an answer when a friend once asked what makes me happy: "Life... is strength. That is not to be contested; it seems logical enough. You live; you affect your world." The main antagonist for the second installation of the Baldur's Gate series is perhaps, contradictory to the nature of the plot. Then again, supporting characters and the main protagonists themselves illustrate just how living and the influence that comes with it is such a powerful force.

It was probably intentional that certain life inquiries like those of love, faith, logic and perception were thinly veiled in character dialog. Were we really watching a simple story, or a reflection of our thoughts with regards to living and dying? Such queries may not hit home immediately to some people, but for someone who has lost a loved one, these reflections become quite evident.

Seeking Perfection

2008-02-04T12:38:00.000+08:00

Perfection is not the heaven we seek but the Purgatory that we secretly dread, knowing full well that once everything is truly perfect, there is nothing else to strive for.

Life is imperfect, and it is the imperfections that make it worth going through. While there is never anything wrong to aim for perfection in one's craft, what do we do after achieving ne plus ultra? Profit perhaps? Or maybe a sense of accomplishment? In the end, however, we all get a backlash of longing or the need to improve upon things further, be it the same piece or in other avenues.

Perfection is also relative, if not a myth, applicable only depending on who you ask. I daresay that the most perfect of lives are those that are imperfect. As any story goes, it would be pointless to have a protagonist go through chapters without struggle or not have at least one flaw. We've heard all the cliches from various chick flicks, "she had the perfect live etc.," but the common denominator always seems to be the longing for something more, beyond the this fabricated notion of a "perfect life".

Practice makes perfect, but the true worth and value of anything and everything isn't its perfection, but the practice that leads us to the point closest to perfection.

"To stand still on the summit of perfection is difficult, and in the natural course of things, what cannot go forward - slips back."

-Marcus Velleius Paterculus

Internet Marketing Bootcamp

2008-01-26T15:52:00.000+08:00

And now for something completely productive and "uninane."

A compelling force has influenced me to post this, I know not the origin of this invisible hand. Yet it feels strangely familiar yet surprisingly alien all at the same time. I only pray that my weakening grip on reality and sanity will hold strong.

The Internet Marketing Bootcamp: Learn the Industry Trends

In recent years, the Internet has become a potent tool for selling products or services. It has also opened employment and income-generating opportunities to many Filipinos. So much so, Internet marketing has become the latest buzzword in the online sphere.

A series of seminars aims at sharing basic information on the creative and technical aspects of Internet Marketing. The “Internet Marketing Bootcamp” will run for six consecutive weeks from January 26 to March 1, 2008. Each session will be held from 8 a.m. to 12 noon at RCC Center, Shaw Boulevard, Pasig City.

Some of the country’s Internet Marketing luminaries from U.S. Auto Parts Philippines (USAP) will discuss the key concepts and strategies on this emerging field:

· Michael Joseph Villar, USAP Affiliate Marketing Manager, will give a crash course on performance-based marketing, how companies and individuals can benefit from it, as well as the challenges confronting affiliate marketing.

· Email Marketing Manager Alvin Jimenez will present the email marketing campaigns and their relevance.

· Rico Sta. Cruz, USAP Creative Director, will discuss the essential principles in Web design and how to apply them to the Web.

· Copy Editing Supervisor Jennelyn Tabora will talk about online copywriting and its crucial role in attracting and building readership.

· Search Engine Optimization (SEO) Project Managers Gabriel Libacao Jr. and Rhiza Sanchez will explain the basics of search engine marketing and how to convert visitors into sales and profits.

· Senior Web Analytics Specialist Maia Nuguid will discuss how Web analytics can help in assessing Internet marketing strategies.

Marc Hil Macalua, USAP Vice President for Marketing, will give the inspirational speech. Web Project Manager Elymar Apao will facilitate the Bootcamp sessions.

The Bootcamp is sponsored by the U.S. Auto Parts Network, the premier warehouse of auto replacement and performance part brands in the United States. One of the leading players in the Internet retailing industry, U.S. Auto Parts ranks among the top 100 online retailers in the United States in 2007.

The Bootcamp is open for all professional bloggers, Internet marketing enthusiasts, or anyone who has a background in Internet marketing. Interested persons may send their updated resumés at elymar@usautoparts.net or glibacao@mbsautomotive.com. Qualified applicants will be informed via a confirmation email.

Participants are encouraged to bring their resumes as a Job Fair will closely follow each seminar.

For further details, please visit the Internet Marketing Bootcamp site (http://www.usautoparts.com.ph/imb/), US Auto Parts Internet Marketing Bootcamp (http://www.usautoparts.com.ph/), US Auto Parts Official Website

(http://www.jobsdb.com/PH/EN/V6/JS/JobSearch/JobSearch.asp?PN=JobListing&pagename=adslist&searchtext=mbs). – US Auto Parts Job Listing

Contact Persons:

Elymar Apao
elymar@usautoparts.net

Gabriel Libacao Jr.
glibacao@mbsautomotive.com

It's Complicated™ part 2

2008-01-26T09:24:00.000+08:00

Life is complicated.

We simplify it as much as we can but all we really do is arrange factors to a more favorable manner of handling complications. Relations with other human beings only adds up to a complicated mess of emotions, obligations, commitments and interactions.

Given that, why bother with a relationship at all?

Whether it is with a lover, a friend, blood relation or casual acquaintance, we seek such relations despite the added value of complicatedness due to the fact that we are social beings. We yearn for contact and connection. Whether it is physical or emotional, it hardly matters. It still gets a lot more complicated.

While living a life is complicated, it is through sharing that life - the experiences, beliefs and emotions and its totality - that we ultimately have a clear grasp on the realities we face. For in those complicated relations, we, at the very least, need not face them alone.

Clarity

2008-01-12T19:10:00.000+08:00

This weekend presented a uniquely alien experience: A trip to a "divinely touched" location with the motivation of gaining guidance to obstacles that plague the perpetually troubled mind.

Hoping for an invisible hand to provide hints and clues on how to go about the mysteries and struggles of everyday seems like an idea born of desperation. Still, in a world that doesn't come with a user manual or a clear curriculum to achieving happiness, perhaps placing trust on a omnipotent being portrayed as a bearded man riding on clouds might not be so bad after all. Atheist may claim otherwise, but to each their own.

It wouldn't hurt to try, as they say. Given such an opportunity, the author asked for what was considered necessary at that given time: Clarity. Clarity on things that have been gnawing at the mind and the heart. Of course, with something as immaterial as faith, one can never be sure when such things will manifest. While being free of the burden of such worries is welcome development. Paranoia of missing or misinterpreting the signs (if such things exist) is always a possibility.

To paraphrase Cowper, The Big Man works in mysterious ways. And yet this begs the question, would it be so blasphemous to ask for a straight answer rather than work through a medley of riddles and omens? Perhaps, it is the act of actually undergoing such difficulties that will give us the clarity that we need, and the results are really mere afterthoughts rather than the true answers that we continuously seek.

Of course, in the end, it's really just a matter of faith, if not, perspective.

Movie Quote Trifecta

2008-01-08T10:18:00.000+08:00

The truth shall set you free, but at the same time, the truth hurts. So the question is, can you handle the truth?

It's Complicated™ part 1

2008-01-05T10:25:00.000+08:00

"It's Complicated™" - Two well-known words in the average Friendster junkie's vocabulary that can easily generate a sudden spur of interest and perhaps unwanted attention.

It seems the invocation of this verbal pair is sure to elicit response from close and not-so-close friends to inquire about the story behind the sudden shift in relational status. Strangely enough, if this author is not mistaken, to claim that a certain situation or scenario is "complicated" is to avert the need to explain the situation outright, whether due to emotional and psychological stress with regards to the situation or inability to fully grasp the reality that is currently presented. And yet the mere sight of those two words betray that very purpose as everyone who is hypnotized by it's alluring gaze begins to pry and investigate on the juicy details of the moment leading to donning of such a label.

The wiser among us would prefer to never make use of the label, or at the very least, chose to ignore the clamor of the overly curious. Still, such trivial matters of Social Networking sites features and functions hardly touch upon the very concept of what is "complicated". Because if one were to truly stop and consider, everything, especially anything related to human relations and interactions, is complicated.

Every New Beginning Comes From Some Other Beginning's End

2008-01-02T03:51:00.001+08:00

A new year, a new chapter.

At least that's what this author would like to believe. Can the end of a cycle really mean a new lease in life? Or a new beginning?

It is quite convenient to think of it that way, yet, what is often forgotten is that, in order for some things to begin, something else must usually come to an end. That may not be universally true, but it still brings up the notion of letting go. Out with old, in with the new as they say.

But as far as yearly self-assessments go, one wonders if this practice of closing doors in order to open other windows of opportunity is something that one might eventually regret. A good friend recently said that sometimes we just don't have to look back at the choices we make. Yet, the idea of abandoning a pursuit, one that has been heavily invested upon, can be quite.... difficult to say the least. Is it possible that despite good intentions, this tidbit of wisdom would lead to a path lost forever, or will stubborn delusions blind the recipient from the harsh and brutal truth?

The above is but the proverbial tip of the iceberg. The celebration of New Year's day is usually marred with life-altering ruminations and contemplations of self-improvement. It may be a new year, but does that necessarily mean that it has to be a new you? Must we only change only after the 365-day cycle? Do we really need to simply let go?

2008, personally, seems to have started the way 2007 did. Just a whole bunch of questions, with the answers nowhere to be found.

The (Hypothetical) Mathematics of Christmas

2007-12-26T13:20:00.000+08:00

Making a study that spans a number of yearly cycles is nowhere near this author's forte, and to be quite honest, neither is Mathematics. As numerically challenged as this author is, an attempt at discovering the algorithms of Christmas is not entirely out of the question. It's not so much as an inquiry of why, or discovering the relevance of such an endeavor has in the grand scheme of things, but more or less a pursuit that can be best described as fueled by the need to do something other than slip into a catatonic state of inaction.

The theory goes that the age of a person is inversely proportional to the amount of phat lewt (or as celebrants of the birth of certain messianic infant, "gifts") one receives during these times of Yule. Granted, this could be an isolated case of one's upbringing and differs from person to person. Still, boredom dictates that formulation continues. To put it simply, as one’s purchasing power increases (bums and hobos not included) instead of your peers giving more gifts, it seems mightily absent. The reason is of course, lost in a pile of sweet and putrid fruit cake, meaning, it’s rather pointless to speculate further as the mind is already slipping due to the sheer stupidity of what’s been written so far.

However there seems to be a reverse of the trend when one sadly departs the domain of singledom and "settles down" to raise a family (How can anyone call it settling down when it's infinitely more chaotic than single life is simply mind boggling.). That is, if one was fortunate enough to have other poor souls to join in the procreation of the human species and suffer the responsibility of raising parasitical devices of devastation, or children, as they’re most often called. Yes, that’s the dumbest drivel to ever come off my fingertips, and the dumbassery can only get worse.

Ok, now the buzz has been killed, time to move back to contemplating the power of cheese with regards to celestial bodies and the destruction of the universe.

The Holidays Are a Mixed Bag

2007-12-19T12:32:00.000+08:00

The eventuality of this post, as one can easily deduce, is well, for the lack of the better word, inevitable, ‘tis the season after all. It would be somewhat peculiar, strange even, to have no comments regarding the festivities this month of December. Even for those of different faiths, as well as the faithless.

Never mind the long standing debacle on the commercialism of the Christmas season. Such things are, and will always be, best left to people who have too much time on their hands and/or feel that their opinions matter on scale grander than their admittedly meager scope. The eternal question of whether or not the spirit of the season lives on or is in plugged into an iron lung, struggling on its death throes, waiting for someone to mercifully free it from its misery can best be answered by yours truly as such: Yes, the spirit is well and alive, and it comes in a mini skirt.

Chauvinistic jokes and internet memes aside, the best way to describe Christmas personally comes from two sources. Legendary comic Steve Martin, in his mildly entertaining Yuletide comedy Mixed Nuts, described it as the saddest part of the year, since it is when we look at the things we don't have or can't have. This was further emphasized by an old acquaintance, who, in one of our rare opportunities of dialog, described it as bittersweet. Before anyone busts out the proverbial small violin and ever-handy box of tissues, this is hardly a cry for help by some inconsolable bastard suffering from continuous Dashboard Confessional jam sessions and repeated viewings of Million Dollar Baby.

While those who are of the notion that the glass if half full or have internal rainbows with golden unicorns prancing around in their noggins would disagree, contesting the year-end self-evaluation of individuals is a common practice that some may deny doing, but in reality, the subconscious has no choice but acknowledge the need for such an appraisal, just like in birthdays. As utterly depressing as that sounds, free stuff and mini skirts are never a bad thing given the right circumstances, and to some, life this silly fool, enough to wipe away the cloud of despair and inadequacy.

The Great Weekend Crash of 12/10/07

2007-12-10T14:32:00.000+08:00

The weekends, at least from my experience, feels a lot like the proverbial sugar rush.

Yes, that infernal product of nature. An occurrence that have adults who have the delightful misfortune of being responsible for walking weapons of mass destruction, otherwise known as children, cowering in sweet, sugary fear. Fortunately, Mother Nature still believes in balance. As if in answer to the lamentations of a million mothers, fathers and nannies, the sugar crash came into being, and all was good.

Overdramatization of glucose-related biochemistry aside, the weekend prior to today's post fits that description appropriately, if only in a metaphorical manner. The alcohol-charged euphoria was further heightened in the company of old, familiar faces, as well as a new breed of companions who's life stories remain sealed and untapped thanks to the limits of social interaction placed upon by everyone's dreadful enemy: time. Suffice to say, a resilient sphere of invincibility shrouded those basking in revelry, wherein tomorrow was just so distant that if felt non-existent.

And then, it was over.

While the forging of new bonds may or may not have happened, opportunities of expanding the social circle were present and were perhaps capitalized, the reality is that the weekdays has reared it's ugly head, significantly destroying the buzz that plucked many away from their comfort zones. A better understanding or appreciation of fellows who, once mere denizens haunting the area adjacent to the sacred workstation, are slowly realized. Still, that does not take away the crushing despair that the night (or nights) of careless frolicking and inebriation are over. Normalcy has never looked so dreadful, and sleep, has never felt so enticing.

I ask myself, would I ever do something like that again despite the painful crash back into mundane reality?

HELL.

YES.

Birthday Trifecta in Play

2007-12-06T11:45:00.000+08:00

Today marks the beginning of a series of birthdays to be celebrated by three individuals who have the misfortune of knowing this author. That doesn't even count the other two who, despite being colleagues, were the lucky ones who have escaped the fate of ever coming into close contact with yours truly.

Birthdays are a peculiar thing. While I do subscribe to the fact that its one of those festivities that only gets worse as time goes by, it's something that we can never ever detach ourselves, unless you're part of certain religious orders who have the wisdom of totally ignoring the celebratory ritual of being one year closer to shedding one's mortal coil.

Still, the notion of recognizing another year gone by is surprisingly therapeutic. It allows as an avenue of reflection of what we are, what we've become, and what we could possibly be. While such evaluations can be done any time we please, attaching a certain time period puts a different and perhaps even more focused perspective in self-appraisal.

To end, I will shockingly share a few "personal"(I have no word that would go a level below affectionate) messages to the celebrants. For the one celebrating on this very day, thank you. Our past may very well qualify as an emotional rollercoaster, but it is how we cope with what is left that makes it truly worthwhile.

To the one celebrating on the 7th, your honesty has always been appreciated. While I would like to change our current social setup, having the privilege of your company dampens the bittersweetness of it all.

Finally, for the one celebrating on the 8th, you silly bastard. A decade of delightful dissonance and brotherhood we have shared, surviving through tough times and remembering (perhaps too much) the good. Here's hoping we have more decades to come you sick and twisted git.

Productive Boredom

2007-11-30T14:35:00.000+08:00

If one remembers Melissa Joan Hart's portrayal of wisecracking teenage girl in Nickelodean's Clarissa Explains It All, one could remember her saying boredom makes one into a boring person.

Yes, nuggets of knowledge are available if you actually put too much thought into it, even in a cheesy early 90s tweener sitcom.

Boredom can only make you boring if you don't use that little mass if fleshy tissue inside your fragile cranium otherwise known as a brain. While most unimaginative sods prefer a catatonic state when slipping into a period of tedium, creative types would use such a time to explore the untapped recesses of the human imagination. Never mind that most males would probably be evoking the visions of living their days in Harem of their choosing. Still, the stimulation of imagination can bring about the best (and the worst) of ideas.

There is a fine line with being bored and being lazy. Some of us prefer to blur the lines. It is, after all, oh so convenient. At that point in time, such indiscretions are venial. Only when it becomes a habit does one suffer the shallowness and lack of potent mental imagery. A fate, in my humble opinion, worse than genetic stupidity.

You Gotta Have Faith

2007-11-24T14:23:00.000+08:00

"Having faith doesn't mean you can't doubt"

I think that's what a friend told me during a binge session of caffeine and nicotine. No matter, as the message is somewhat the same. While I'm not really into considering mushy, touchy-feely advice as a habit, there is always room for exceptions here and there.

The comment arose when the notion of being emotionally guarded and wary of trusting a partner came to light. Of course no wants to be played for a fool, especially considering the amount of emotional investment involve in such dealings. Victims find solace by feigning pragmatism and cold calculating indifference to the callings of love and companionship. Still, the facade is futile at best.

The common mistake of a person in love is to think that trust or faith disallows one to question and investigate. However, a need for balance should always be present. There are those who question or doubt too much that they put themselves in a state of self-induced paranoia.

In line with my sardonic and cynical nature, I've always believed that a relationship's is only as strong as the lies and truths it is built upon. Everyone lies, no matter how faithful or loyal you are, lies will be told. The problem is whether or not the lie hurts or helps. The self-righteous would zealously point out that a lie is still a lie, but if one thinks of the bigger picture and goes beyond what they've learned in Sunday school perhaps they can see that certain lies can be told and are completely harmless. Not with the intent to harm, but to belay harm, if not to show fully how irrelevant such a fact is in the grander scheme of things.

Faith, personally, is seeing through the harmless lies while taking care not to mix them up with those that will scar you. Denying oneself of the joys (and the pains) of a relationship because of the fear to have faith is counterproductive and at times, completely idiotic. Living is about experiencing, interacting and (hopefully) a lot of laughter along the way. After all, a little faith goes a long way.

Knocked Up

2007-11-20T12:41:00.000+08:00

It is somewhat strange that the world's most compelling truths could be found not in the scriptures of antiquity, but rather in the modern medium that is film. "Knocked Up", a romantic comedy headlined by Seth Rogen and Katherine Heigl is one such movie that tells the viewer more about life than the Chicken Soup for the Soul series of books.

The recurring obstacle, it would seem, is that both characters do not know what to do given the situation of pregnancy, forever questioning other older characters, if not themselves, what must be done to handle such situations that require an unfamiliar sense of responsibility. It brings about the question that most of us in our early to mid-20s (and at times, those even above that age bracket) have behind the very recesses of our mind: "do we really know what we're doing in this life?"

Other postulations of note include the glaring gap in communication between opposite sexes, the male gender's need for space, the fear of moving out one's comfort zone and detours of destiny. I won't go into details as these epiphanies are best realized when watching the movie.

These realizations are, to be quite honest, scary. It reminds us that, despite the movie's reassuring ending, that at a certain point in time, our existence will require us to grow up; reminding us that as much as we try to take control of our lives, some people are cursed to suffer unexpected twists and turns that will ultimately unmake any grand schemes he or she may have had. The best of us will accept our new path, others simply wallow in the sea of regret and failed aspirations.

The inevitability of growing up, is, sad to say, upon us all. Try as we might to delay it, we will eventually succumbed to its mandate. At that point in time, we may still not know the answers and what road to traverse, but rest assured that in spite of the helplessness of our plight, the outcome ultimately depends on us.

This is Madness.....

2007-11-17T11:40:00.001+08:00

In my quest to seek out the grandest narrative of my limited conscience, I have come across several candidates. From the linguistic masterpieces of J.R.R. Tolkien's Middle Earth epics, to the lyrical narration of Elaine Cunningham's Book of Song and Swords, and even to the philosophical scriptures of Chris Avellone's Planescape: Torment, these narratives of heroism, human nature and other musings have influenced the way I look at the world. Each story dabbles on many aspects of the psyche, some indirectly, some otherwise.

But the musings that interest me the most perhaps are the concepts of insanity and madness. While Avellone's Torment does touch on the subject given the nature of the world's setting, none have been as riveting or enticing as H.P. Lovecraft's Chtulhu Mythos. Admittedly, the works I've read and seen are somewhat limited, however, from what I've touched on so far, the Mythos has a way of stimulating the imagination, allowing an amalgam of horror, wonder and introspection. Lovecraft's work has spread throughout many aspiring authors, most notable of which is critically acclaimed novelist Neil Gaiman (still finishing his version of Sherlocke Holmes, with a Chtulhuian twist).

Of course, discussions of madness and bat shiat craziness should never be made without pointing out the works of Frank Miller (and it has nothing to do with the line in the 300 movie, so no, this. is. not. SPAAARTAAA!) Most notable of this is Miller's attempt of portraying the Dark Knight, otherwise known as the goddamn Batman. In his continuity, Miller portrays Bruce Wayne as a vigilante who is just as insane as the criminals that he hunts. Of all the Goddamn Batman books that have taken my curiosity hostage(surprisingly, not by Frank Miller), the Killing Joke by the incomparable Allan Moore is on top of the list. I've personally seen the Batman character as evolving lesson of psychology, between Batman's cold and calculating personality that puts him on par with more powerful heroes such as the dick that is Superman, and the villains that he fights, most notably, the brilliantly barmy Joker, each character represents a deeper understanding of the faults and bizarreness of the human mind.

These two examples of modern literary masterpieces, in my humble opinion, are more relevant than any text book of science. While I do not advocate the abandonment of reading the works of long dead Caucasian men otherwise known as philosophers or psychologists (they have their value), these pieces of art, originally designed to entertain iterates that concepts of the inner bowels of the ever complexity of our gray matter. The mere fact that we, as sentient beings are capable of both rational and irrational ideologies and actions should tell us that madness, indeed, is present in all of us. It may manifest it's symptoms differently from person to person, and in varying degrees. But there is no denying that it is a shadow that echoes in every thought and action.

After all, we're all a little bit crazy. And nothing tells you that better than popular media. The choice now is whether you accept or live in fairy tale of delusive sanity.

Food for thought

2007-11-16T13:30:00.000+08:00

Of all the paradigms that exist in the known world, there is nothing more complex and universal as the paradigms on lunch.

Yes, the midday meal, as common and as trivial it is, carries with it great value in philosophy, culture and the general world view. More particularly, the fact that is it more of a social practice instead of an act of partaking in mandatory sustenance.

What is troubling is that, as dictated by an unknown cosmic being that designs social norms and all its idiosyncrasies depending on the cultural context, having lunch alone is some sort of invisible badge of shame that people recognize immediately. Sure, one can have lunch alone in the comforts of their own kip, yet in a social environment, doing so engraves big L on one's forehead. Never mind how we assess one's behavior and quirks depending on the individuals he or she has lunch with.

Having lunch for the sake of having lunch could be just that, replenishment in the middle of the day, nothing more, nothing less. And yet, here we are, while we openly deny it, we associate covert social judgments on other people's lunching habits.

And people wonder why the world is going to hell.

Chemistry

2007-11-15T11:32:00.000+08:00

"Chemistry: Either you have it or you don't."

Why thank you Dr. Meredith Grey, you truly are the Master of the Obvious.

Snide remarks against a popular medical drama aside, the first line is about as cheesy as it is true. When people interact, it is chemistry that invigorates the elusive dance of attraction, a invisible bondage of truly distinct people, solidifying a pack or collective to interact further.

How can one say that they have chemistry with their partner(s)? To put it simply, it's when everything just clicks or falls into place. Of course, as beings suffering from irrational biases brought about by unpredictable emotions, we tend to bypass the natural order of things. We entangle ourselves in a web of self-deception only to find out that we suffered a period of denial. On rare occasions, the feeling may be reciprocated, leading to a sinking feeling of mutual abandonment of the failed pursuit.

Of course, chemistry, in the author's most humble opinion, should never be limited to pursuances of romance. While the blue-eyed boy may not have chemistry with the brown-eyed girl, this does not necessitate that the two abandon all interaction. As it is, chemistry also applies to other types of relationships, positive, negative, platonic or romantic. To think otherwise is pure folly in the greatest sense and ultimately lead to numerous wasted opportunities and regret.

Following through

2007-11-14T12:32:00.000+08:00

Introductions are just that: introductions. Most people like to place a lot of weight on making a first impression, sometimes forgetting that at the end of it all, it is the conversations, the in-betweens that matter.

While even the most casual of greetings are rejected, the fact of life is this, you will be rejected, and it's best to get used to it. No matter what endeavor is pursued, rejection is imminent and inevitable. In this case however, the humiliation is not so evident if you simply state your name, your business and intent. Call it a cop out, saving face or whatever, fact of the matter is the embarrassment and the emotional strain doubles if the rejector is fully aware that you're torn apart by such a petty excuse to be depressed.

While most people are shallow enough to let looks be the basis of any dialog - worse if that person is truly that superficial - then you're probably better of sharing your tales of inadequacy and need for affection to some other simpleton willing to be regaled by your futile campaign of significance. While one could opt to use superlatives and high-handed tales to woo that much longed for attention of another sentient being, it is often best to just get the point across and focus on getting to know your subject better and proceed to share tidbits (honest tidbits, mind you. Embellish if you must, but at least maintain a modicum of truth.) of yourself. It is at this point, that one can truly get anywhere in initiating a relationship.

Saying hello is easily difficult

2007-11-13T14:47:00.000+08:00

The title, I believe says it all. The first post of such an attention-whoring journal that is this blog will, theoretically, invite other readers to relish in the absolute stupidity of my ramblings that are devoid of any known logic.

But in truth, saying hello, in a world of complicated and thinking (sometimes unthinking) people can be quite the conundrum. It's a lot like asking someone out for coffee. The words are easy enough to fabricate. Through half-hearted practice and futile encouragement of oneself, any simpering fool could easily blurt out a semi-coherent sentence that might refer to such an invitation. Alas, our folly is that when presented the opportunity, we overthink, we overcomplicate, going several steps ahead of our agenda even before starting, which simply results in a stammering failure to communicate.

A first post, as most people view it, is supposedly an introduction of the authors insignificant (and on rare occasions, significant) contributions to the known world, as well as a summary of what the niche of said journal is about. While many prefer to pour their stories ranging from moments of mediocrity to their (often fabricated) expertise, some, like this author, would prefer to keep banging on the keyboard until he makes a semblance or nugget of sense.... and utterly fail.

I suppose the traditional "Hello World!" greeting would suffice. However, for someone whose bloated ego and basic command of the English language is beyond that of an ape, it is somewhat.... inadequate. As it stands, I'm not even sure any self-respecting individual would waste a few minutes reading the emotional diatribe of a self-proclaimed hack. In that regard, I've best summarized what this blog is about with that drivel otherwise known as the first post.

It is a blog about absolutely nothing..... (cue Seinfeld music)