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.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Courtship
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....
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....
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Sensing the Inevitable
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?
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?
Friday, May 16, 2008
Another year older
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.
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.
Friday, May 9, 2008
Define Attraction
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Answers
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.
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.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Questions
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.
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.
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?
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.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Zeezoobic
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Sometimes, Games Are All We Have
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.
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.
Friday, April 4, 2008
What dreams may come
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.
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.
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