Monday, July 19, 2010
Conversations and Adventures
"I can see it!" He said.
"Where?"
"Over there in the distance."
"Point it to me."
"…There."
"I don't see anything. Are you sure it's there?"
"Not really."
"I have to tell you something," he said.
"What is it?"
"…something."
"What?"
"…something."
"Wait! Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"Listen…"
"I don't hear anything."
"Keep listening. I'm not making this up."
"Nothing."
"Exactly."
"We're almost there."
"Where is 'there?'"
"I'll know when we get there."
"But we're almost there?"
"Not quite. But we're almost there."
"Maybe up this mountain," he said.
"Are you sure?"
"I'll never know until I get up there."
…
"Okay, you're here. Finally. Did you find it?"
"Find what?"
the adventure ended at 10:29 PM
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Thoughts?
I guess I'm back. But then again, I was never too far away. I missed blogging. Heck, I miss writing. I don't think I've written anything sensible in a very, very long time. Hopefully, I haven't lost my touch yet. Sometimes, constructing simple e-mails has become a tedious task. It seems grammar and spelling know-how are lost as easily as the knowledge instilled in one during his or her gradeschool days. Who ARE the Filipino presidents in order? What ARE the inert gases in THAT chart of elements? When does I come before E?? I'm stumped. But I guess for every thing that you don't remember, there's something you won't forget. Ramon Magsaysay DID die in a plane crash, W is the symbol for Tungsten, and "your" implies ownership while "you're" is You Are.
And as any super celebrity or sports star on a long hiatus is asked, "So what have you been up to?" Here I am trying to answer my own lowly interview, filled to the brim with words, but having nothing to say. You know that feeling you get when you feel like taking a crap and when you get to the toilet, you're ready, you're in the zone, you're dropping the bomb and... nothing. Just a couple of farts and butt cramps for your trouble.
But yeah, life's been good. Sometimes, too good. But as I have always believed the universe dictates, there is always balance. Nothing is ever too good, and nothing is ever too bad. It's a sick joke that you can't ever have everything you ever wanted, even in little aspects. It's the best cheeseburger in the world, BUT it's worth 2000 calories. You work your ass off for an A paper, BUT you get a B+. You make a million dollars, BUT you're not spending enough time with your family and friends. Ay, balance be a cruel mistress. The worst thing is, even though the universe does have a plan on how it will balance itself, you'll have to be the one to figure out how. "Here are the puzzle pieces. Um, I'm not gonna tell you what the whole thing looks like but... yeah. You'll get it. Hehe." Good. Bad. Right. Wrong. They're all just words and titles. What matters is what you do. In the end, all we're trying to do is to make the two ends meet, make sure our little existence makes as much sense as possible because hell, we LOVE sense. To have sense is to be. Cogito Ergo Sum. No matter how much wrong we think we do, no matter how much good we think we do, if the picture of the puzzle we've started building doesn't make too much sense, we feel.... Meh. So you scramble the pieces and start again, and keep on repeating the process until hey, you're seeing the picture.
Sometimes I feel so so so bad for all the wrong I've done. I am, after all, (mostly) Catholic. But then I think if God had planned this, and/or... (um, I'll go with "and") if I had chosen this path, and it has led me towards where I am now, then ultimately, it's going to make sense, even if I feel I've done wrong. I do feel sorry for all the wrong I've done, but if it's part of something bigger, some HUGE picture that I'm meant to see in the end, then I say, "Keep going!" The puzzle pieces fit anyway. Like I said, nothing is all bad.
If you know me, you'll know that I love pondering existentialism-related stuff. I even ponder my pondering. What if I'm just a smart-ass trying to justify all the shit he's done? And I actually am just questioning a flat, outright, "It's-all-there!-Stop-creating-more-out-of-it" existence rather than accepting it? Then I must be so screwed up then? Not to say I haven't done anything GOOD my whole life. I'd still say that, if we must put labels on our actions, most of what I've done, is in fact, "good." (Haha. Sabay nag-bawi.) But I don't know, everything I'm saying just comes so naturally. While objectively it seems so complicated, it actually isn't. It's the purest, sincerest thought I have. It may be difficult, but it's not complicated. It's like travelling to a faraway destination with loads of traffic in between. It's going to be difficult to get there, but you know exactly what needs to happen.
But one thing I ponder above all, when you DO get to your destination, when everything falls into place. when the puzzle is finally complete....
Then what?
I guess it never ends.
I am at the twilight of my teenage life. In exactly a week, I will finally be accurately classified as, "some guy in his 20's," if ever a description of me would be needed on a certain witness report. Haha. Contemplating on them, my teen years were really everything Simple Plan and all those other trashy emo rock bands sing-whine they are. A time of rebellion, discovery, anxiety, hormonal outrages, and making lots and lots of mistakes. It was fun and I can safely say, to keep in theme with all 'em
"your subtlties... strangle me..." songs, that I wouldn't want to change a thing.
So here we are. I'm about to enter what they (nope, not the emo rock bands this time) call the defining moment of life. The time when you find out who you are exactly and what you want to do with your life. The time you start making something of yourself. The time you first work, you first live alone, and who knows, the time you settle down. Well, what do I think of what they say? Bollocks. I remember a birthday letter my Ate Pam gave me when I turned 15 or 16, it read, "You're 16 now and you're probably surprised and wondering why you haven't really gotten life quite figured out. That's fine. I'm 23 and I still haven't got a clue." Hahaha. Truth is, I think in a decade, by the time I'm 30 (yeesh, perish the thought), I may have a job, a family and the whole shebang, but I'm pretty sure I STILL won't have life quite figured out.
You learn that when you're through.
**
ANYWAY. On to the selfish stuff. For any of you who are planning on getting me anything for my birthday, I only want two things.
1) CA$H (ANY amount will do. Kahit P100 lang!)
2) A video game console (PS3? Xbox 360?)
But preferrebly, number one.
Why? There are a number of reasons. But mainly because I'm saving up for the future. (Really, I am) Be it my life after college, my next visit to Phoenix (and the one after that), or just my expenditures everyday. My internship over the summer probably won't pay me so that's gonna hurt me even more. (Plus, G's gonna be here next week. I'll need some extra moola. Hehehe.)
Number two? I just need something to pass the time. Seriously. Hahaha.
**
Anyway, I'm really, really excited about next week. I think it's going to be the best birthday I'll ever have so far, even though I DO turn a new decade.
the adventure ended at 10:21 PM
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Run For ItWhen I was around five years old, I remember being in the car with my parents en route to somewhere. I was seated in the back and was staring outside the window, mesmerized at the array of shapes and figures that would whip on by. Colors, hues and tints, it was all very enthralling to the eyes of a small boy. An observant little prick, I noticed that the houses and people didn't quite whoosh by as fast as I thought they should, relating their movement to the probable speed of the car. Imagine that, a five-year old who had motion physics in mind. I scooted to the front and checked the speedometer over my dad's shoulder. Eighty kilometers per hour. In my mind suddenly arrived the seemingly obvious rationale: "80kph is slow because the trees and mountains and buildings move away from my line of sight from the window slowly too."
With this, I blurted out, breaking the otherwise looming silence, "I think I can run at 80kph!" I said this with the utmost confidence and sincerity, as if making a statement of fact. My mom looked at me with a mixture of disbelief and amusement. One of those
ano-ba-naman-itong-batang-ito looks. "Oh? Talaga? That's really fast ah. Eighty?" "Yeah. Kaya ko yun. Kasing bilis ng kotseng ito." "Hahaha. Masyadong mabilis yun para sa'yo. No one can run that fast." And there it went, another moment of my childhood that went "ppppshhh......" Hahaha.
This memory is more than a dozen years old. When you really think about it, it isn't really much of anything. Not one of those moments worth remembering. This story would utterly bore my grandchildren in the future. There's no way they're hearing about this one. Haha. So why did I remember this useless tidbit from my youth? Why did I feel I had to write about it? I guess because it was one of the first experiences I've ever had of having my beliefs and principles challenged. It was probably the first time I used my logic as a human to be illogical and to stand by the virtue I concocted out of my irrationality. The thing is, we aren't human because we have the ability to be logical. That's not enough. We are human because we have the ability to be illogical. Only humans defy all common sense, sound judgment and coherence to stand by, to protect, to fight for what they believe in. It is simply illogical to starve yourself for days and days to prove a point and end a war. But we humans have done it. We believe in it. And the funny thing is, it actually works. Illogical thinking works.
Sure, I really couldn't run eighty kilometers per hour. But I was devastated that I wasn't allowed to believe that I could. I was thinking, "What's so wrong with believing in an impossibility?" Sure, I know it won't happen, but my illogical self says to believe in it. Because what the hell, I'm only human. The thing is, there are so many concepts in life that logic will say is stupid, is impossible, is lunacy. Heaven, God, the devil, love, death, life, altruism, all forms of illogic. Yet here we are, beating ourselves up and each other, forcing ourselves to believe that they're all true. Maybe they are. But they probably aren't. But that doesn't bother us one bit.
The moment I realized in that car that I could run 80, it didn't seem illogical. I was ready to get out of the car and race it at that point. As long as I believed I could and ran as fast as I could, 80 wasn't that far away.
the adventure ended at 10:08 PM
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Karma ComaTalented NBA All-Star and eccentric (yet popular) blogger Gilbert Arenas developed a new way to look at his life day-to-day with the coming of the new year. He formulated a simple reflection exercise that one could do to determine how happy one is with his/her life. He urged people to look at each day that passes every night and figure out whether or not they were happy that day. If they were, they get to put a bar under the Happy Days column. If they weren't, they have to put a bar under the Sad Days column. Additonally, they must provide the reason why that day wasn't a happy one. At the end of each month, people are asked to tally the Happy and Sad days throughout the month. If one gets a 25-5 or 20-10 even, he/she is living a good life. 15-15's pretty good too. But once one goes below the .500 mark, he/she has to re-evaluate his/her life. Something must be wrong.
January, 2008. It's been 25 days. I'm on 10-15.
It may sound overly far-fetched and vaguely stupid, but hey, I've been following it and what I've come to learn from it is that January has been one sucky month. From the failing Finance long test score, to the rise of SO MANY personal issues with so many people I love and care about (details not disclosed), to getting sick for almost a week, to undergoing the most painful experience I've ever been through in my life (tell you about that later), things just don't seem to want to let up in January. I need 6 straight happy days before hitting the Reassessment Zone and trust me, an emo child growing up, you DO NOT want me to head back to the Reassessment Zone. They'd give me a hero's welcome back there, knight me, crown me, and eventually, once I figure out that the people around those parts aren't exactly "a happy bunch," tie/lock me up and force me to stay forever.
For all those who believe in karma, I may finally be getting mine right now. An entire pail of karma, slowly filling up through the years, reaching the brim, spilling drop by drop until suddenly, that cruel bitch Fate topples it over and pours it all over me. Flooding me, depriving me of breath, and strangely enough, killing my tooth.
If you really know me, the biggest insecurity I would probably have about my body is my teeth. Ah yes, years spent trying to correct the dental problems that equivalent one of those orcs in Lord of The Rings. I used to have absolutely terrible teeth. Canines jutting out from the side, molars displaced, baby teeth refusing to go away, some teeth even missing, etc. If there were a "Before and After" shot for a product that promises perfect teeth, I would have been perfect being "Before." Except I'd never really made it to "After." Hehe. Anyhoo, I guess some improvement has happened, mind you, and while I may not have pearly whites worthy of the Close-ups and the Sam Milby's, I'm no
Efren Bata Reyes either. I'm confident enough to smile when cameras are flashing anyway.
Anyway, a couple of days ago, I had a root canal. My very first one. Yayy! Bring out the photo albums, this one's a keeper! To put it plainly, if pain were a city, root canals would be right along Main Street. Imagine having your tooth drilled down, then having your nerve ending butchered up, THEN getting a pus abscess inside (which looks like it can fill up an entire Yakult cup [and still make the Yakult look the same]) jimmied up and flushed out. Drill + nerve ending + infection draining = jay's face about to explode. I cried for two or three hours after the operation. I couldn't open my right eye because if I did, I'd feel this sharp tinge in my tooth. I couldn't stand it. It made me wonder if root canals could ever be used as effective torture devices in detainment camps. Haha. Because if there was any ANY ANY information I could provide just to make the pain stop, I would have caved in immediately. Haha.
Anyway, I'm still waiting on the results as to whether or not they will be able to drain all the pus or if the tooth will be stable enough after they drain everything. If they're not able to drain everything, or if the tooth is unstable, BAM! Extraction. Hayayay.
Now if I could only learn how to play billiards....
Note: a brilliant upside I've noticed is that through these tough times I have resisted the urge to light one. Yes. It's been five months since my last stick and I'm feeling great. That, coupled with my diet and fitness regimen, has allowed me to lose seven pounds in three weeks. I really miss Persian cuisine though. One night last week, I couldn't contain myself. I felt like a pregnant woman (okay, poor metaphor). Despite strong rains and the violent urging of my parents to stay home and eat their flimsy, store-bought salads, I trekked all the way to Metrowalk and treated myself to Chello Kobideh Kebab with butter rice. Hmm, what do you know? A mini-preview of how things are going to be? No matter how hard they prodded me to stay home and no matter how illogical it seemed to brave the rain by myself and moreover, break my diet, I had to leave. I just had to. Nothing could stop me. And hey, I went home feeling really happy and fulfilled. Fast forward one and a half years later? Hehe.
Anyway, I'm just dishing out random thoughts here. I'm a bit scatter-brained. I'm trying to get myself back on the blogging track. Haha.
the adventure ended at 1:14 PM
