Friends

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

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

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

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

Fear and Loathing in 2009

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When Wrong Is Right

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)

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

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

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

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

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)

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

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.