So my summer swings from my classes to frequent drop-bys in my former work hole. Whenever I ask some of my friends for their work, they tell me everything’s fine, and start complaining all sorts of office blahs. Terribly so, I miss all the complaints. After how many nights regretting and not regretting that I quit work, I am suddenly uncertain where to go. I mean, while doing absolutely nothing has appealed me for a while, I realized doing nothing at all tremendously improves shopping mall’s gains at the expense of deflated brain cells and reducing one to a mere spiritual pauper. Spiritual pauper. And I’m supposed to be soul-searching. I worked three d!mn years for my personality to be stable, I mean I can look a person in the eye and say that I am contributing more to fullness of humanity than individuals my age, at half the price. You know, many institutions still believe that age must be relatively proportional to salary.
Once I tried inquiring about a dance lesson and about to pay the fee. A mother sitting next to me is patiently waiting for her turn to pay for her daughter’s tuition, I glimpsed the line next to age. It was seven. I was supposed to be having a dance lesson with a seven-year old kid! A good ego booster, indeed! I said bye-bye to a cool cool hip hoppy groovy summer. But I refused to be bullied into such “immature outlook”, so I started looking for other studios and (un) luckily, I found one. I also enrolled in a European language class to occupy time and so for the few weeks following came the unparalleled boredom of my life.
A couple of weeks after my good senses took their leave, I was constantly haunted by how much the no-particular-reason reply is keeping me awake at night and asking me where all these is leading to. Getting a life or being sick and tired of the real life? Amazing how real is used to convey a totally different meaning, hmn? If I had more sense, I shouldn’t have let my braincells take their leave and let life’s joke push me towards the dance studio and a language class. Now that they’re back, bored yet happy and refreshed, I think I can start some damage control on the way I play this GAME called LIFE. Now that my senses are back, I get to stand back a little and think over why I suddenly bolted out of the office door and came running into not-so-interesting classes. Rationalizing seems to be the best cure for my insanity.
Sunday, June 06, 2004
Wednesday, June 02, 2004
Braindead-er by the day
I thought it might do my grumpy little self a lot of good to go out and do something different, for once, and I decided, spur of the moment, that it’ll be this summer or never. After this soul searching, I hope and pray that I’d have enough realization to stick to “things I’m supposed to do as a 23-year old”.
Since my braincells are taking a break, when asked for the reason in enrolling in “recreational” classes, I can not even compose a profound and noble answer like those of my classmates to satisfy my maestro’s need for self-gratification – you know how much teachers wanted to hear that reason for enrolling is because “we love so and so very much”. Instead, I ended up giving a not so intelligent reply of, “ I wish I know why”.
Even if I refuse to do much thinking, I ended up complaining about the gullibility of characters in all the nighttime soaps I’m sure my sister’s just dying to throw me the vase or smash me in the head. I can’t sit in front of the tv and say nothing. Every night, I keep on promising myself not to say anything uncomplimentary but my mouth seems to have a mind of its own! And since I enrolled myself in a language class I used to take in the undergrad, my reaction every class bordered from sheer boredom to contempt for the professor who assumed we knew nothing. And so starts the supposedly enjoyable summer.
Since my braincells are taking a break, when asked for the reason in enrolling in “recreational” classes, I can not even compose a profound and noble answer like those of my classmates to satisfy my maestro’s need for self-gratification – you know how much teachers wanted to hear that reason for enrolling is because “we love so and so very much”. Instead, I ended up giving a not so intelligent reply of, “ I wish I know why”.
Even if I refuse to do much thinking, I ended up complaining about the gullibility of characters in all the nighttime soaps I’m sure my sister’s just dying to throw me the vase or smash me in the head. I can’t sit in front of the tv and say nothing. Every night, I keep on promising myself not to say anything uncomplimentary but my mouth seems to have a mind of its own! And since I enrolled myself in a language class I used to take in the undergrad, my reaction every class bordered from sheer boredom to contempt for the professor who assumed we knew nothing. And so starts the supposedly enjoyable summer.
Tuesday, June 01, 2004
Blind Curves...
Life takes too many turns much too soon. In a couple of weeks, i'd be damning myself into a different direction and it rattles every fibre in my being - meeting new people, facing new challenges, sending my braincells in the unexplored realm and maybe, just maybe, finding my own happiness.
Monday, May 24, 2004
Chronicle of Boredom Foretold (with apologies to GGMarquez)
Hundred words are racing through my mind this very moment but one line keeps sticking like a glue - life sucks! Life sucks big time. If there is a case of sudden loss of self realization between adulthood rebellion and mid-life crisis, I just might label myself as that. Writing, as a way of exonerating this uncertainty over life in general, never fails to work its magic and God forbid, what Sean Connery in Finding Forrester applies here – that, “I am not writing for anybody but myself, ” or something to that effect. So, pardon the high-schoolish rants...
I am sick and tired of the rat race so I decided to break away from it all – work, grad school, anything that has to do with using too much brain cells. I was hit by a realization that what I have been doing for the past 23 years of my life is exhausting myself into getting a good education, good work and good life that even a weekend doing nothing depresses me. In short, whereas before, getting a life never bothers me, now it frightens the hell out of me that I haven’t been experiencing that much. Never mind that I am 23 and supposed to be pursuing and exploring the greater heights of my career (if there ever is one) or doing things befitting my age. Duh, who dictates what I’m FIT to do?
I am sick and tired of the rat race so I decided to break away from it all – work, grad school, anything that has to do with using too much brain cells. I was hit by a realization that what I have been doing for the past 23 years of my life is exhausting myself into getting a good education, good work and good life that even a weekend doing nothing depresses me. In short, whereas before, getting a life never bothers me, now it frightens the hell out of me that I haven’t been experiencing that much. Never mind that I am 23 and supposed to be pursuing and exploring the greater heights of my career (if there ever is one) or doing things befitting my age. Duh, who dictates what I’m FIT to do?
Saturday, May 01, 2004
...my mind has a freezer
Somewhere in my mind exists a big freezer where I keep all these feelings wrapped up in foil-frozen - and when I have time or when I choose to have time, take some out, thaw them, dissect, then analyse. A delaying mechanism. I decided since I can’t remember when, that since my memory bank has limited space, I’d only keep those emotions which have been thawed and analysed from my emotional freezer. That way, I could prevent myself from feeling too much consuming emotions towards anything, you know grudges, hatred, etc., etc…
I got sick and tired of society and disillusioned with life so early and I am at that point where nothing could get any worse. There goes a half-filled freezer.Unfortunately, I seem to have more time filling in my emotional freezer than filling my memory bank. More often, the substance of those ‘frozen’ emotions would’ve disappeared, and all I’d be dealing with are the fragments of memories of how I felt about certain things. Of how I remember what I felt, what I should’ve felt and why. I keep on confusing the two and more often, my memory of things and people get mixed up in a clouded space.It is a form of adaptation in an environment that does not permit the musings of baser human emotions. Otherwise, I would end up being the discontented, whinny cry baby that I, at the subconscious level, really am.
Unfortunately, my memories are part and parcel of those emotions and with them tucked away in my freezer, I can not seem to remember things that would’ve comforted me that my years have been worth living. When I was younger and the preoccupation of mind is less utilitarian, I can remember having simultaneous feelings about things that I’d end up confusing myself. And although I can not figure out how I feel about things, I always remember how, when it rains, I feel a deep sadness which now that I am old enough to have figured life (yeah, right), reminds me of the first stirrings of melancholia, of how certain songs produce different sensations that I couldn’t almost grasp, and how deaths of so few among the seemingly hundreds of important people made me cry, of how the thought of Christmas routines send me to unparalleled elation.
Maybe it was because of emotions I ascribed to things, places and people that I have a crystal clear memory of what happened to my life in the previous years, what stirs the heart inspires the mind. And maybe the reason why I can vaguely recall what I did two years ago during my birthday was mainly because my mechanical brain will not digress and thaw those emotions, that my brain has become passive to life, that what happened is much more important than what I felt when it happened.
The reason, I think, why people lose their memories when they age is that their brain have become comfortable in dealing with the routines of everyday life, of going through the same path everyday. The mind reinforces what it thinks everyday and since I ascribe the same ‘contentment’ on the way things work everyday, my mind only remembers those things which are out of the ordinary, about things that evoked certain emotions. But otherwise, my mind is an ordinary empty shell. Sometimes I feel like am suffering from Alzheimer’s although I don’t think I’ve reached the age when I am a potential candidate for that disease. At times I can’t remember names, places, things and happenings and all I feel or I think I feel are sensations. And so at these times, I can hate things and people without remembering the reason why but most of the times, I find it emotionally consuming to feel anything at all, I get tired of feeling anything that I’d start filling in my emotional freezer. Its much better than carrying a load of bottled up emotions in my backpack. But I can only afford so much emotional freezers in my lifetime. Sooner or later, I’d have to clean up the fridge, of which, I know is getting filled-in pretty fast. Until then, I am contented with emptiness, or the blessed absence of pain, whichever is more convenient. I am an inveterate procrastinator, urgency does not exist in the realm of possibilities.
I got sick and tired of society and disillusioned with life so early and I am at that point where nothing could get any worse. There goes a half-filled freezer.Unfortunately, I seem to have more time filling in my emotional freezer than filling my memory bank. More often, the substance of those ‘frozen’ emotions would’ve disappeared, and all I’d be dealing with are the fragments of memories of how I felt about certain things. Of how I remember what I felt, what I should’ve felt and why. I keep on confusing the two and more often, my memory of things and people get mixed up in a clouded space.It is a form of adaptation in an environment that does not permit the musings of baser human emotions. Otherwise, I would end up being the discontented, whinny cry baby that I, at the subconscious level, really am.
Unfortunately, my memories are part and parcel of those emotions and with them tucked away in my freezer, I can not seem to remember things that would’ve comforted me that my years have been worth living. When I was younger and the preoccupation of mind is less utilitarian, I can remember having simultaneous feelings about things that I’d end up confusing myself. And although I can not figure out how I feel about things, I always remember how, when it rains, I feel a deep sadness which now that I am old enough to have figured life (yeah, right), reminds me of the first stirrings of melancholia, of how certain songs produce different sensations that I couldn’t almost grasp, and how deaths of so few among the seemingly hundreds of important people made me cry, of how the thought of Christmas routines send me to unparalleled elation.
Maybe it was because of emotions I ascribed to things, places and people that I have a crystal clear memory of what happened to my life in the previous years, what stirs the heart inspires the mind. And maybe the reason why I can vaguely recall what I did two years ago during my birthday was mainly because my mechanical brain will not digress and thaw those emotions, that my brain has become passive to life, that what happened is much more important than what I felt when it happened.
The reason, I think, why people lose their memories when they age is that their brain have become comfortable in dealing with the routines of everyday life, of going through the same path everyday. The mind reinforces what it thinks everyday and since I ascribe the same ‘contentment’ on the way things work everyday, my mind only remembers those things which are out of the ordinary, about things that evoked certain emotions. But otherwise, my mind is an ordinary empty shell. Sometimes I feel like am suffering from Alzheimer’s although I don’t think I’ve reached the age when I am a potential candidate for that disease. At times I can’t remember names, places, things and happenings and all I feel or I think I feel are sensations. And so at these times, I can hate things and people without remembering the reason why but most of the times, I find it emotionally consuming to feel anything at all, I get tired of feeling anything that I’d start filling in my emotional freezer. Its much better than carrying a load of bottled up emotions in my backpack. But I can only afford so much emotional freezers in my lifetime. Sooner or later, I’d have to clean up the fridge, of which, I know is getting filled-in pretty fast. Until then, I am contented with emptiness, or the blessed absence of pain, whichever is more convenient. I am an inveterate procrastinator, urgency does not exist in the realm of possibilities.
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