Fire & Rach

Popular songs have replaced poetry. They reflect the concerns, the dreams and the reflection of the times. Its a shame people are more concerned about the beats and the hooks, not bothering about the message they send out as a whole.

Of late, one song that has incurred my ire is Avril Lavigne’s Girlfriend. I thought she was beyond the pettiness in that song. In the past, she showed promise and sensitivity as a misunderstood punkrocker, but her true colors are showing. The facade is splitting at the edges, unravelling a bratty girl inside. I am so disappointed. She makes Ashley Simpson in "I Didnt Steal Your Boyfriend" look like a prude.

The video is more disappointing. Physically hurting another girl just to get a cute guy is so childish. In fact its a throw back to the Stone Age–where girls are clubbed on the head. Considering that a lot of youngsters look up to her, I say Avril is no longer worth the admiration we showered her before.

In my Philosophy of Religion class we discussed about different approaches to God and how to discover God’s presence in our lives. I remembered that my take was very funny, deriving God’s presence as a by-product of the ever stronger, more powerful martial art practitioners being featured courtesy of an adolescent fascination on chinese martial art shows shown over the telly during lull times in the afternoon. I concluded that in view of the fact that the there was always a better, stronger, fiercer practitioner of the martial arts, there should be one who could whoop everybody else’s ass which, in all calculation, should be the Supreme Being. It was such a relief that Manny Dy, a leading local authority in Philosophy, gave me a decent grade for an answer which sounded like it came from a lost boy who had been sitting way too long in front of the television set.

Its not very original, I’m sure it has been done before. The only thing new with it is that finally the approach has become personal. Recently, I went through a phase in life which was characterized by extreme self-fulfillment and happiness followed by extreme depression. It isnt hard to conclude that I went through a breakup. (Hahahaha)  It was a period of being totally complete and satisfied and then a period of feeling completely without self-worth. In my brokeness, my confessor said I should find God in the cracks to make myself whole again.

How do you do that? You feel you are the ugliest and most undesirable person in the world, there is nothing you can do, no amount of good works, kindness, smartness and understanding could redeem you. Who would choose you over some other guy who happens to be physically attractive? You tried to choose wisely, avoiding the purely lustful attraction and the purely beautiful face. You rearranged your life to accommodate another person. You opened your home and family to this other person and you made the effort to know his family as well. You live the quiet life of contentment, looking forward to new challenges. The life of flirtations was a thing of the past. Things looked like it was going very well, you overcome a lot of hesitations on the pretext that your guy was completely decided on you. Then you are dropped the bomb: he didnt feel the same way towards you as before (read: met somebody else).

You were a good boy and yet you were dumped. You must be the world’s biggest loser, another fool who leapt and didnt bother to look where to land. Why didnt you hedge, why did you give it your all?

Who else do you turn to but someone who was similarly shunned. The Corner Stone that was turned away… He must be the one who sees everything inside you and your efforts in the past. He is the one who looks into the heart and soul of people and not at the outward, physical appearance. He must be the one whose commands you wholeheartedly follow despite the temptations of the world.

I backtracked, going back to the time when I was alone by myself. I remembered those things that I believed in. Those things that made me who I am. In between moments of continuous crying and loneliness, I was clinging on to God as I clinged to all the things that still remained alive in myself. I could not accept that love meant you sleep around but keep emotionally faithful to only one. I could not accept that true and faithful love to one is diametrically opposed to self-preservation. Commitments are meant to be broken and men are polygamous by nature. My friends tell me this over and over again as if to say that this is the way of the world and you cant go against it without hurting yourself as I was hurting back then.

Problem was those were not my ways. Either I give up the world or I change myself. Only one thing should prevail. Those who are playing around appears to have the upper hand. What is there for those who have scrupples in their shoes? Virtue is its own reward. Thats so true. Is there any other reward for keeping a relationship with God aside from having such a relationship?

Otto says that most encounters with the Divine is characterized by mysterium tremendum. There is always that element which escapes comprehension that scares you. In my case,  the hopelessness of my cause is that which i cant put my finger on but as time went by i gradually accepted that this too is mysterium tremendum in the sense that its not meant to be explained away by reason. It just happens to be so. Its not for rationalization.

People say that relationships are supposed to end like anything that has a beginning. I dont think so, the fact that a lot ends does not justify why we break our commitments. Its not meant to be like the season, its supposed to last. Why should you get into one when you know its not gonna last? Its a waste of time, if thats true.

Its only the presence of God which justify the honoring of commitments and protection of relationships in the same way that only He can validate my virtuousness which is hidden and taken for granted. Since I believe, there is reason to hope for a commitment that will last with someone who believes as well.

To be continued… (not to mention edited)

December 31, 2006, 5pm, Quezon City– The year is almost over, its best to end it on a happy note. I got up late again, thankfully, before highnoon. Quickly got done most of the things I had to do, just to free some quiet time for later, but I know that there will always be more things to do. Count on it. I do.

My mom is like a locomotor, thinking up things to do, actually, for me to do. She wanted the fish taken out of the freezer to thaw, but she also saw prawns in there, so she also had that taken out. She was giving me some sketchy instructions on how to prepare them for later. Knowing my mom, she has never clocked in enough time in the kitchen to be able to whip up a decent meal. I instinctively knew, she was way over her head with her impromptu prawn recipe. I had to put my foot down. I asked her to make up her mind on what she wants me to do first.

My dad is in his own world, like taking his own sweet time. Its like he has nowhere to go and no one is waiting for him. He finishes taking a bath after lunchtime, plops himself in front of the table without bothering to dry himself and asks whats for lunch. I had to run up the stairs to get him a towel.

My sister wakes up after my mom & dad left the house and quickly rattles on what my mom forgot to do and left her to do. I make myself scarce, I dont want to get caught in the crossfire. She worries about the twelve kinds of fruits for the traditional midnight meal centerpiece. I say theres plenty of apples, she says they have to be different kinds. I throw her a blank expression.

My only goal is to get to mass before the neighbors start with the fireworks display.  I am determined to keep a positive disposition and not let negativity get in the way.

I never liked goodbyes and putting a period on anything. I dont like the finality of it. I like working on something and keep on making revisions, improvements, retouches and whatnots. I dont put everything in one go, I go back and make small revisions. Step back and tinker again and again. This is my nature.

I dont make final decisions. I always reserve the right to change my mind on anything. I am not a commitment-phobic, because I do commit to some causes and people. I like giving second-chances and making several attempts. But I bear grudges for long periods of time and I dont forgive easily.

Thats what I do, this is who I am. Its a nice place to start another year. I figure, I am not putting an end to a time in my life, I am just continuing what I have been doing for a year already. Time is not years and minutes, its a continuum. Although you cant go back, you can make corrections as you move ahead. I get to pick on my life in the days to come and hopefully, I will get some thing right this year.

Who knows? In the meantime, I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

Early this morning, my chat friends and I were talking about this one particular guy whom we had tagged as the sexiest in the group. It brought to my mind a pillow given to me by someone from way, way back. It says SEXIEST MAN IN THE WORLD with a caricature of a hunk flexing his biceps.

Since the pillow was supposed to be the giver’s personal pillow when he was at my house, and yeah, he did say that it was a remembrance of sorts, I had always thought that it referred to him. Of course, he was a little on the heavy side and he isnt that tall. But since it was his nature to draw attention to himself, I just took for granted that the title was supposed to pertain to him.

It just never occurred to me that someone could think of me that way. I never thought of myself as sexy. I’m reed thin and small. Whatever I thought of as remotely sexy in my body, I cover with oversized clothes and baggy pants. Back in the 80s, padded shoulders and loose clothings were fashionable. It was en vogue to cover your shortcomings in geometric designs and loud colors.

Besides, I dont believe in those words. Being the best in something physical does not equate to excellence, at least not in my book.  Its more the result of lucky genetics and happenstance, rather than a product of hard work or mental exertion. I know thats not exactly true. Some people labored hard and long in the gyms just to be able to flash those rippling muscles and washboard abs. I know, I have seen them. Whether they do so to admire the fruits of their labor or to solicit admirations, I really dont care.

I’d rather that you tell me the last book you’ve read.

I must really be from a different world. Or I live in a totally different one than where I am physically at. I feel more at home with Shrek and Kim Possible than with a bunch of guys from Baywatch or The Contender.  I’d probably make friends faster with Ursula, the evil witch of the seven seas, than with a hunk from Melrose Place.

Of course, you could say that I sometimes act as if I think I’m one. Guilty as charged, I do unbutton my shirt almost all the way when it gets too hot inside the danceclub. Its more because I like the way the clothes move and sway and maybe because I also like the lines and the form of a dancing body (which happens to be mine).  My badminton clothes tend to be tight fitting at times, but only because I need the mobility.

Oh what the heck, hey, I like to look good, too, sometimes.  But sexy? Or be the sexiest among a group? I would never think of myself in those terms, not in a million years. Too much ego and competition seemed to be involved in that scenario. 

Although it would be nice to be told that I still look good, despite the years.  I slaved at the gym at times when I’m good. I’d pass up on the occasional desserts and the thirst-quenching, cold, tall glass of iced tea. I deserve some praises for the effort. 

But if I were to choose between the sexiest man alive and the common guy on the street, I think I would rather give the latter a second look. I’d look like trash beside the sexiest man alive who would be busy checking himself out in the mirror.  In which case, I dont think I’d enjoy that.

But really, me sexy? Get outtahere.

I felt like I cheated by not finishing my blog entry for the evening for lack of material time. To make up for this laziness, I will post a poem I have written years back. I havent written any new one lately, I dont know why.  But anyways, it is about an internet love, when you felt you connect on different levels. It felt like it was real. Trouble is we were separated by a 12 hour difference, but for a few minutes outside of real time we were together in cyberspace.

Wafflings

Why do I even try?

Hoping you might change your mind

I cant even say goodbye

I know I gotta get over you.

What can I say?

Hanging on to your every word

I wont sleep again tonight

I know I gotta get over you.

Who holds your heart?

Shadows fill your color-blind art

To next day’s shag, you set your sight

I know I gotta get over you.

Why cant it be us?

Elephants have big ears

Distance vast, emotions dry up fast

(False pretenses, yahoo crashes)

I know I gotta get over you.

September 2002

Most of the time, I dont understand why things happen the way they do.  But sometimes, life comes full circle and the reasons become obvious like patterns in a kaleidoscope. Broken and yet things get connected, the cracks cease to be random when you see the whole picture. Its when I finally come into acceptance of things that are meant and not meant to be.

another circle in my life just came to a close recently.  one of the loves of my life got married to his current girlfriend.  i obsessed about him for ten years of my life. he was the measure by which guys i meet were measured, and they all paled in comparison.  altho i had overgrown him a long time ago, it was disturbing that he was settling down when my life was, for lack of a better word, unsettling.  it sounded like he had finally found his happy-ever-after-ending wrapped in white and pretty things, pure and sacred, with everyone in agreement that he made a wise decision.

there was another guy i was obsessed with. i learned that he got married to a friend of mine. i remembered the three of us sitting in class. i was seated behind him, the girl sat to my right. we werent close then, i dont even think he knew her back then. he was the campus crush, she wore big, thick glasses and in ponytails. who would hav known, right? Last I heard they have two boys and living out their own happy ending. In all my four years in college, i never lunched with him, not knowing that one day in the future i would be sitting and talking to him and his wife in a quaint cafe having lunch.

my obsessions reminded me how i finally stopped obsessing over them. i got my own man. unfortunately, our relationship also became history. you could say it had served its purpose, i guess. i got my life back on track, i got my game on again, and i learned to live without. self-deprivation is good for the soul and it builds character. platitudes arent necessary, i’m not selling myself anymore to anyone, myself included.

i thought my man was The One, thus letting go of my obsession was made possible.  The parallelisms were there, both from la salle, well-to-do family, driven, employed, attentive, dedicated to their respective partner.  it seemed like things fell into place. i ended 10-years of not speaking to the other guy when the three of us chanced upon at a badminton court. at that time i felt, i became equal to my obsession. he was no longer bigger than what i called my life. i was not inferior because someone as good walked into my life and actually chose me.

on the plus side, he was aquarian, i was libran. we got together in november, just like my mom and dad. Again another set of parallelisms.

But the similarities ended there. in the end, it turned out that what we had was a big mistake. We ended up apologising for things we did and wasting each other’s time. I went on to rediscover who i had always been. I went to movies, games, gimiks, restos, parties by myself. i drove my own car, drove myself home. Slept in my own bed, hugging my own pillow. Turned down propositions which dont match my expectations and what I wanted in life and in love.

After the breakup, I went to confession and the priest told me that I had to find Christ in the cracks of my broken heart. Its easier to reshape broken things. You start anew, you dont mend, you dont adjust things to fit in. I was the Beloved, which made me think why I was looking for things outside of myself.  I had to learn how to love myself again even if the world never loved me back.

The point was that i learned to stop obsessing. I learned to accept and move on in the same way that i easily accepted that 2 comes after 1 and my abcs. The circles came to a close and they are placed in their proper places.  i would like to think that i had come to know my place in the grand scheme of things.  I didnt see things thru rose-colored glasses anymore.  I didnt look for signs, I didnt pray for anyone anymore to come into my life. I thought I already have all that I needed. I had set my standards based on what i believed true love is and I would not settle for the next guy to come my way hoping that he turns out to be my savior.

I didnt need saving. I had become my own person. I could live by myself from now on.

I also realized that there were other bigger circles in my life: my family and friends who had always been more important to me. With them, I would like to find myself forever. No circles, no ups and downs, no beginnings and endings, no overly blissful times and exaggerately depressing moments. this time, they would be real and permanent. no more obsessions and saviors, but real people whom I love and who love me back.

You asked that we meet

for the first time

at your house,

sending my head swirling

in permutations of possibilities

of what could happen.

I froze

and the moment passed me by.

Samhain (SOW-en) is a powerfully symbolic holiday. Its more than just a time to remember the dead, it infers that even if everything dies, rebirth follows after.  Its a time for new beginnings, too.

This insight is also timely in my case because I am preparing for a new beginning in my life as well. In two years time, I will hit the big 4-0, time when life should begin, in theory.  Anyway, I have to make plans and a list of things to do to mark this milestone.

I will turn 40. I have lost my rose-colored glasses, among other things. I have a won some, lost some, gained a couple of excess baggage, became a little slower but I can still get jiggy with it, faster on the uptake though. I have changed from the naive, wide-eyed little boy who got lost in the wide, wild world. Now, I map my roads.

Crazy plan 1, bulk up.  Its not healthy to be 5′6.5" tall and weigh only 124 lbs. I remember standing in front of a hallway mirror with my friend, a mom of 2 kids who still has her whistlebait figure, and being thinner than her.  At first, I thught it was just a matter of being more active, so I took up a sport. It turns out sports made my muscles firmer, defined, but not bigger. In fact, I need to bulk up a little more if I want to up my game.  However, while bulking up gives you power, it slows you down. Try carbo-loading, which to me is pigging out, before a game and feel how hard it is to move your legs and arms around. 

Unfortunately, its not just a matter of pigging out. My fitness instructor wants me to eat within an hour after a workout. I tried eating out after a game after which I would turn in for the night. This is the best recipe for developing a gut.

Go to the gym, said my friend. Have you seen the gym-bunnies parading and flexing? It takes discipline to stick to a workout regimen. Gyms get old easily and irritating, sweaty people who dont give equipments a wipe down, machine-hogs and water-rationing in the shower.  Lets not forget how painful sore muscles feel the day after, especially if you dont workout on a regular basis.

Crazy plan 2, invest.  I have been toying with a business plan for some time. I have talked to some people. I am not keen on risktaking, it takes me forever to make a decision. Its not because the money is a problem, its there, its more because I procrastinate. Even just to buy clothes, it takes me 3 visits before I buy something.  I am almost sold on the business idea, but here comes my mother borrowing capital. Who am I to turn her down when I still live in the house and mooch from her?

There is still some money earmarked for investments. I plan to put my money into better yielding investments than time deposits. Banks are highway robbers, I dont like them. It seems they have forgotten that depositors are their creditors, they make it so hard to put money in and harder to get it out. They think its still a seller’s market out there with their low yields.  After they get your money, they dont remember you anymore. I have been with my bank for years and yet I havent recieved a single umbrella.

I have talked to a financial manager who will act as my agent. Thing is its a new investment medium. I am scared shitless of the risks. Who knows this might turn out to be a case of out of the pan and into the fire. I hope this investment doesnt turn out to be a lemon. 

Crazy plan 3, join the labor force again. Money is becoming tight around here, like everywhere else. Although I dont pay the utility bills at the moment (I used to do that for 8 years), my mom still looks to me for financial bailouts. My dad is oblivious about our financial position, he thinks money grow on trees. I also suspect he needs some money for some reason which I have yet to discover. We used to go loggerheads when it comes to money. Its the young buck challenging the leader of the pack. He thinks my ways are untested, I think his ways are dumb.

However after working for some time, I have realized that I dont want to work for the government and somewhere far from home. I dont want to waste my day on the road commuting. At the current state of city traffic, its too much of a struggle just to get to the office in the morning, I havent much energy left to actually do some work.  And I havent even touched on how impossible is my dad’s morning schedule.

Government work is public service, it’s almost a form of slavery. Considering that most of the employees are pencil pushers if they ever show up, or worse ghost employees, you literally have to do everything. Some people are simply useless, they are only there to make life miserable for everybody else. Then, just because they give you salary, you will be made to do as they please– dress code, id, bundy clock, code of ethics– all for the rank and file.  Salary is not commensurate to work or qualification, but more to a list of plantilla which was made when the exchange rate was Php14=USD1.  No wonder there is graft in government. its either that or die in penury, especially when you have a family. I wont go back until after I have established a business of my own. Otherwise, I dont know until when I could resist temptation.

Crazy plan 4, go back to school– learn a new skill, a foreign language, computers. Nothing beats the life of a student. Besides, kids have the funniest grammar. I could race my nephews who just got into college.

Crazy plan 5, write more. I like writing. I had some stories simmering at the back of my mind. I read a lot. A lot gets me fired up. I need an outlet. Its an outlet for me. Sometimes its a way to connect with other people who will hopefully be moved by what I put down on paper. I live inside my head most of the time, writing is just the content of my head written down.

Bottomline is I have to keep moving and busy. Life doesnt stop for anyone. Time waits for no one. I need the change, I need to mark my own milestones and cap them with headstones.  I am not the little lost boy anymore who died with the passing of the years. This is the promise of Samhain, more beginnings as the old things die down and fade away.  There is strength in change as there is in permanence. I dont need to choose, I need to bend and survive.

Sometimes, you just find yourself travelling a different road than the one who started in. Its not a crossroad, because theres really no other path to take. You cant even look back anymore. The decision to push on isnt yours to make, you are already there.

I remember my first day in high school. I moved into a new school, in a different place far from my house, far from my old school. I have been to that part of the city only once with my dad when I enrolled about a week ago. When you go anywhere with my dad, you dont worry about anything. You ride with him, he knows the way around. I was used to that, he would bring me to school and pick me up after.

The day started out as usual, my dad brought me and my sisters to school. I was last because my school was the farthest. Plenty of time, no problem, I got there in time. But my dad had to go to my old school because little sisters were still there. It didnt hit me that I was on my own until after the 4.30pm bell rang. It was time to go home. I had to go home by myself. I stepped out of the school gate and wham! What do I do next? There were plenty of jeepneys, buses and cars going in different directions. Which do I take? Which direction do I go?

After 30 minutes of indecision, I braved the crowds and got on a jeepney. I would take my chances with this one. It seemed reasonable that it was going the right direction. People were crowding in the 8-seater bench that the driver wanted nine people to fill up. Its rush hour, its the first day of school. I have never commuted before on my own. Tempers were short, the afternoon was humid, people were weird. There was one effeminate guy beside me who asked me where I go to school. I said: Manila Science. He mumbled: Manila Hair Science? What was that supposed to mean? I ignored him the rest of the way. What did I do this time? What should I do?

New journeys are daunting. They make you take stock of what you are and what you have. Most of the time, you dont measure up. You take a good look at yourself in the mirror and see that the years have passed you by and you have nothing to show for it. The people you started out with are miles and miles ahead of you. They really cant help you much, they wouldnt know how. They have passed the road you are in light years ago.  They have never been in the same boat as you are now. And no one will ever be.

New journeys mean you are lost, you stepped outside your comfort zone. You are on your own. Things are different, some things changed, some lost for good… or bad. It really doesnt matter, you wont have them back anymore.  You call on saints and angels to rescue you, you pray, you cry your eyes out, you beg to be returned. Theres no more turning back.

New journeys mean you go where you havent been before. It isnt what you have or what you know, they wont make any difference. They wont do you any good because you dont know what the new road has in store for you. You arent supposed to know, you just have to find out for yourself. Life just changed the playing field, you have to make a new path for yourself. No wonder you are scared, you are defenseless, you are on your own again.

New journeys, same old you. You try to remain constant while things around you change. You have only yourself. You are alone. You need to be strong, you have to be brave, you have to move on. Life will not stop for you. You are on your own no matter where you go.

"O my soul, dont be discouraged. Dont be upset. Expect God to act! For I know that I shall again have plenty of reason to praise him for all that he will do. He is my help! He is my God!" (Psalm 42: 11 LB)

I am so not graceful under pressure. My mind tends to wander off without pause that sometimes I cant even sleep even if my body is already too tired to move. Today is one of those days when I am overwhelmed by problems and doubts. I have already decided not to worry too much about them, so they are just simmering in my subconscious. I am such a procrastinator.