Retirement

There comes a point in one's life when too much information and searching for connection becomes more of a "miss" thing than generating true "hits."  There comes a point when the random thought desires to become purposive, and the creative urge must be mastered, tamed, and redirected.

I have no illusions about the depth or quality of my own writing.  Therefore, keeping on "publishing" my thoughts before my ideas grow and become true living things, so to speak, is an injustice.  They must be allowed to brew somewhere, but definitely not online.  Reticence does have its own benefits, not just privacy, but also the confidence that the silence brings wisdom, a sense of centering and self-mastery.

So this blog will finally retire.  I realize though that even if I try to close down this blog there will a digital footprint somewhere.  My thoughts will always remain in cyberspace.  Close this thing down? Sure.  But some part of me says, let it stick around, as a lesson for my own benefit.  Who knows, someone will be led down this road and find something useful here.  Maybe it will do something for them as it surely did for me.

At some point there may be something I will need to say, and maybe I will post a link of it here.  That would be highly likely, but hey, I wouldn't want to disappoint by building up too much anticipation for the devoted (two) followers of this blog.  That time will come, someday, eventually.  But for now, I will sign off, and bid you adieu.

Good night, then, and good luck.

Blow a Bubble of Good Cheer

This is an old favorite of mine - bossa as a genre has been in my blood, particularly of the Astrud Gilberto/Sergio Mendes quality. I am not a big fan of Sitti's covers - but this song catches, I believe, the sort of personality she wanted to create for herself when she started out. 

Just blowing a bubble of good cheer.   Some English translation of the lyrics, afterward, just for kicks.

Kung ika’y magiging akin
Di ka na muling luluha pa
Pangakong di ka lolokohin
Ng puso kong nagmamahal

Kung ako ay papalarin
Na ako’y iyong mahal na rin
Pangakong ikaw lang ang iibigin
Magpakailanman

Chorus:
Di kita pipilitin
Sundin mo pang iyong damdamin
Hayaan na lang tumibok ang puso mo
Para sa akin

Kung ako ay mamalasin
At mayro'n ka nang ibang mahal
Ngunit patuloy ang aking pagibig
Magpakailanman

[repeat chorus 2x]

Para sa akin

First attempt, rough draft:

Should you ever become mine
You will never shed tears again
A promise that I will never cheat on you
From my heart that truly loves

Should I ever be blessed by fortune
That I too will be loved by you
I promise that you'll be the only one I'll love
Forevermore

I will never try to force you
Even if you follow what you feel
I will let your heart beat as it will
Only for me.

Should I ever run into bad luck
And find out you love someone else
I will keep on with my loving you
Forevermore...

Not Yet After, But It Is

Willing Exile: Just Hangin'

If there's a way I can gift-wrap this message for a particular someone, I would.  But then again, what I mean to reach one person may just end up being misinterpreted by someone else.  I'd like to be known yet still unseen, not much unlike Lionel Richie in Hello, only not as creepy.

It gets tiresome to sweet-lemon the result when there is so much residual bitterness.  Intellectually I am aware of this feeling of never fully letting go, but emotionally it is still there.  And I don't like to pretend that the feeling isn't affecting me.  It does.  Because the feeling, because of the choices surrounding it, encompass my whole life as it stands right now.

No, no more positive spin for this right now.  I'd like the feeling to sear into me and leave its mark.  Only then can I let it go and try, as best as I can, to move on.

I'm not begging to be pitied.  In fact, I don't even care for acceptance or understanding.  I just want to say what I would like to say, and then I hope that will be the end of this.

Glee'd

In a few minutes, standard Arabian time, it will be the 22nd of December 2012.

It isn't an important date by any means, not to me at least.  Tomorrow will just be another day here in Saudi Arabia, another cold day in Riyadh in a succession of very cold days.  I am not making a reference to all of the millennial talk, to the "end of days," or some other facsimile of signs that the Apocalypse is upon us, namely the passing of the Reproductive Health Bill in the Philippines.  Hardly made a dent in world consciousness.

I am glad that life continues on giving, and giving, and giving.  Whatever the impetus, new life comes forth and within that moment of tenderness, of vulnerability, one finds all the reasons needed to live.  As for death, it is always unwelcome, whether in the ICU or on bullet-riddled, blood-stained kindergarten walls.

It is awe-inspiring that the cycle of life continues even with all the dumb mistakes we humans commit everyday.  While we have reduced Evil to a small "e"  I am very thankful that even with all the buttons waiting to be pressed for a worldwide conflagration, cooler heads have managed to hold onto the tiller.  At least for now.  Every time I see a video or a picture of children growing up, even though they are not my own, I am grateful for time's passage and the blessings these children have made possible to their families.  It hurts me, it pains me that any one of them has to face a moment of privation.

It is therefore bewildering that for all of our aspirations to virtue, only we have the capacity to be inhuman to ourselves.  How, instead of teaching future generations how to live, love, and learn, we are teaching them to hate, maim, and discriminate.

Out of all this bleakness, it is not unreasonable that one learning we can take out of this is that the best intentions aren't enough.  Loving and cherishing one's family is not enough if the primacy of the family means oppressing other families.  Learning and developing new skills must not prescribe that others not as popular should be excluded.  Celebrating one's personhood means also appreciating others, especially those people whom we find so different from ourselves.

It is also not unreasonable that we prepare ourselves by being fooled by this season of glee to expect that somebody else will be doing the hard work, the pedal-pushing, the small sacrifices. We can dream of good things for everyone, just like ol' John Lennon says (bless his soul), but we can't stay dreamers forever.  It is time to wake up and do something.

Merry Christmas.

Oxygen Break

A sound is meaningless if there is no one around to hear it.  In like way, no love can be called true unless it is shared.

(Sigh).  All my brain can come up with right now is one-liners.

In other news, "Spartacus: Vengeance" is filling up my hours.  Watched the first five episodes, and I figure they are milking the same themes from the two previous series.  Crixus is the lover denied (as Spartacus was), while Glaber is the ambitious Roman (replacing Batiatus).  Spartacus is no longer a human being; he is merely a force of nature.  His already paper-thin character has even been sliced more finely from cardboard to wrapping paper.  No inner conflicts there, just a quote machine on the nature of freedom.  

Wouldn't want to ruin it for the fans who haven't started on the series, but one thing is for sure - the violence is gratuitous, excessive even.  Designed for the lowest common denominator.

There goes my oxygen break.

You Need Green to be Mean

How much would it cost to build the Death Star?

Just nice to know, so that my little investment portfolio will have to shoot up just that much.  Wouldn't want to stop the project midway - no wonder it took the Empire almost eighteen years to build the first one.  I'd be dead before I start building this baby.  Investment, anyone?  A sure-fire way to dominate the galaxy, only X-wing fighters with Force-enabled pilots as risk.

It's so easy painting rich guys as the bad guys.  It really costs money to be the villain, especially if you're not an altered human, a mutant, or an alien.  Where would Lex Luthor get the wherewithal to battle Superman without cash?

Now imagine what power bill Dexter's parents are running with his secret lab in the basement...

Confidence

Sometimes people can just have mind-numbing confidence.  One man had the guts to go up against a whole army. From David Eddings' "Queen of Sorcery":


"I will challenge them." Mandorallen announced calmly, "One or all. No true knight would refuse me without being called craven. Wilt thou be my second and deliver my challenge, my lord?"


"What if you lose?" Silk suggested.


"Lose?" Mandorallen seemed shocked. "I? Lose?"

Sorry Seems to Be...

When other people find it hard to forgive you for what you've done, sometimes it's important to ask if you've demonstrated true remorse and have begun the process of restitution.  Making the apology mean something means being prepared to do exactly the opposite of what you have done in the first place.

Falling Short

Sometimes an opportunity to be great comes only once - it just depends on the person whether to answer the call to be great.  The biggest obstacle to being great is just being good enough.

Culpable

You can never be left unstained or unsullied by the things you value and love.  They will always leave their mark on you.

Islands

Manhattan, in a pond at Windows to the World Park in Shenzhen.

Listening to: "Oceans" by Pearl Jam


The end of a workweek brings with it a certain kind of sadness.  The finality of the day summons all the ghosts of Things Left Undone, with the prospect of Things To Do still peeking at the horizon.

For a lifer like me, the end of work for the day is a sudden deflation of my self. My raison d'etre, so to speak, has ceased and the Case of the Big Man can now conveniently go into the closet.  Without a life to which I can look forward, the end of the work week can be maddening.  This is amusing and a bit of a pain in the ass at the same time - there was a time when I was the acme of indolence, existing on the point of letting things be - and even then, the remarkable thing that defined me was my own indifference.

What am I without this job?

The romantic in me would go jump up and down and say gardemit, give the old F**k you to the Man and get back, yeeeaaahhhhh.... get back to where you once belong!   Find the spaces within and nurture the bridges to fill those gaps.  Find love.  Find fulfillment in writing the fantasy novel to end all fantasy novels.  Do something.  (Cue in Dick Dastardly, snapping at his canine sidekick, "Muttley, do something!"  "Muttley, HELP!)  Be involved.  Wallow in weltschmerz.

Smack myself in the head and find joy that work this week ends! (It doesn't really, I'm administering a training tomorrow).

The What?

It's easy to be caught up in a wave of pessimism when things don't go one's way.  The world is imperfect, and by following one train of logic, the world is filled with imperfect beings.  From there, one can infer that the imperfect being is oneself.

Reviewed word today - saw a re-run of the "The Big Bang Theory" where Sheldon Cooper uses the word weltschmerz -  the melancholy feeling that stems from seeing one's imperfections and the imperfections of the world as reflections of one another.

I am not about to be taken in by that kind of feeling.  That's the sure way to failure and oblivion.


"The only unbearable thing is that nothing is unbearable.”
― Arthur Rimbaud

Pressure

We need pressure from everywhere - pressure from within to prevent being crushed by adversity, and pressure from without to keep from exploding from our own problems or ego.

Temperance and Uncertainty

"Your glory, O Israel, lies slain on your heights. How the mighty have fallen!". - 2 Samuel 1:19

A lesson for all OFWs is temperance.

It is always easy to think the world revolves around one's problems - the next bill to be paid, the next problem to be hurdled, the next loan to be taken out with all the accompanying guarantees. Life seems to be always about worry.

Worrying about the future, the unknown, the prospect of being powerless to stop the tide of the future. The odd thing, worrying always paints the future to either negative or positive prospects but trivializes the present.

Which leads us to my little additional realization for today - there is no antidote against the coming of the future.  Problems, worries, consequences - we have no control over them.  They come because they must, because with every effect there is cause. What we do control is the cause - our present. The vista of the future pales in comparison with the wonderment of the present - of being in the Moment, of seeing life as it is, and letting the world and one's self be.

Instead of appreciating life from our mere personal lens, we begin to understand the essential relationships that exist among us.

Quasi-Quiet Time

The day is about to end though I have to say it ended much earlier.

Spent most of the day on the tube watching the last few episodes of "Game of Thrones." I've read the first four books and now working on the fifth of "Song of Ice and Fire" (the first novel of which is the source material of the HBO series), so I'm not really at all surprised at how it would go. The show is largely faithful to the source material, which is a good thing. I've seen the show twice over now and it's still good.

It's good to just unplug from all the work-related stress and kick back. Anyhow, trying to keep Monday from coming too soon, and work will be back in a fury.

Vacations like this one actually ruin the whole thing for me - it's long enough for one to get lazy, but not long enough for one to do something creative. I can't travel out of the country because my work documents aren't ready yet, which pisses me off. Out of my control though. Makes the prospect of working closer to the Philippines a lot better. Still a pipe dream at this stage, though.

One objective at a time. Inhale, say once, exhale. Only the passage of time teaches one the virtue of patience. Sure, I'd like my life to get somewhere else pretty darned fast, but there's always causality - one thing must be done before it leads to another, before I get to the desired goal.

I was about to get into some bit of gardening but I realize I am getting into a lot of unnecessary metaphors. The vision has been stated, just get it done.

All of a sudden, I'm excited for Monday to come. Bring it on.

Flicking the Blade

I had actually meant to post my latest rant TODAY but I forgot to change the dateline! Tsk tsk. That's been how long I've been meaning to write, or at least put something down.

Somehow there is some balance in between work, not working, and finding something creative to do. Work is fine, or to use a swordsman's words, the blade remains sharp through gritted, and the blows come swiftly as if the weapon were part of my arm. Still easy knocking that down, not requiring a great lot of effort, though I wish I would. Put in a better effort, that is.

Not working means finding sleep since my mind is active almost all the time. There is always something that engages me, even by just thinking. In the longest of my ruminations I somehow come out with a mishmash of half-baked epiphanies, a few more bits of my symphony of gratitude to God, and all those precious to-do lists to tick off when I arrive at the office.

I do need a hobby. Not just this one, of course. I still shadowbox, but not enough to satisfy me.

Let me mark this space again - later today I will officially begin my duties under another formal superior. Let's see what happens next. I sincerely hope my daft parts don't come out of the woodwork and start experimenting again with my balance. I don't believe so, but this will be my systems check.

Grasp the hilt, feel the weight of the sword, and flick the blade... swing, step, parry ...and the dance continues.

Just a random rant - since I am getting loopy right now - I sincerely HATE all the bandwagon fans in football. Especially if they're ignorant. I can stand the frontrunners, but for the rest? Find something else to give meaning to your lives, you voyeurs. But all the same, these are the people who buy all the tickets and the merchandise just to prove their fandom.

Yes, I think it's just about time to sleep. Sword into the scabbard now.

After Hours

my background music: Bamboo

I am staring at the screen and no words come to mind.
Blank, devoid of anything original.
My only wish is that I had exchanged this lack of spark for endorphins from exercise rather than a long day of discussions.
But I am getting used to this.
If only I can settle my moving in to a new flat the soonest.
Yeah, maybe that will turn the trick.
Finally, payday is coming round the block.

I Survived

It's another rainy day here in Manila, one of many countless rainy days that characterize the All Saints/All Souls Days here in the Philippines. Apt that the world should weep while the souls of the dearly departed rest.

Restless could be the best way to describe how I feel. I wouldn't trade the Philippines for any other land - this is my own home soil - yet staying here makes me wish that I were far away.

It's been more than a month since I returned - I was planning to make a diary of sorts of my (mis)adventures in Manila since my return, but even that lost some of its appeal after some time. In the wake of misinformed posts on social networking media, getting into one's inner psyche for the appreciation of all isn't too healthy. If I wanted to do that, maybe I should launch my own reality show.

That being said, it still feels strange to be waking up each day in my own bed, whizzing into my own bowl, and easing into my own sofa watching cable from the TV I bought six years ago on my second electronics purchase in Saudi Arabia (the first being a handphone). Strange, but still very welcome, is the virtual omnipresence of moisture in the air, if not through the rain, through the humidity.

I MISSED MANILA. Not because there are people here who are very important to me, I literally miss the feel of being here. Of being home.

But now that I am here, isn't it ironic that I want to leave, again?

It Isn't Just Enough to Mouth the Words

As I'm writing this piece today I am gently reminded by similar scenes at the close of each episode of "Doogie Howser, M.D." featuring Neil Patrick Harris. I am certain I don't have his IQ, but I would like to think that as an individual who has gone through life the normal (though at times, non-conformist) way, I'll have more mature sensibilities than him.

Or so I would like to believe.

Anyway, I have observed since the advent of more interactive social networking sites my capability to churn out blog entries has been clipped significantly. Gone are the links and other stuff I normally take note of. They're on Facebook. Gone are the smart-ish quotes (they've been posted as shout-outs.). Music videos? Jokes?

That irks me and disturbs me to some degree.

Yes, it's fun to have an audience out there, an audience which is helpless in chossing what stuff you are shoveling. In this case, we could be lucky if you one is some sort of internet maven who can look for unusual but interesting links. I have one such friend, though at times the posts are great and funny, they keep on coming in one after the other, as if the person cannot live without posting something. I'm not derisive, but in the minds of other people whose interests do not intersect, that could be sickening.

(Which reminds me, I'm so glad I've become my own censor since Facebook has become such a G-rated site, it could almost be called G-A-Y. No offense, everyone wants to be happy, right?)

There is that, so sometimes wishing for something gets you an unwanted surfeit of it.

How social networking has risen in the past few years has, for some reason, trivialized the whole process of communication. Our public selves have seemingly grown larger, but then again, our capacity to invent identities online also makes the process hollow.

Words are cheapened with all of this free communication.

It isn't just enough to mouth the words now, you have to think back whether you really mean them.

All Set for Overdrive

Nobody gonna take my head
I got speed inside my brain
Nobody gonna steal my head
Now that I'm on the road again
Oooh I'm in heaven again
I've got everything
Like a moving ground an open road
and everything

I love it and I need it
I seed it
Eight cylinders all mine
Alright hold on tight
I'm a highway star
--- Deep Purple, "Highway Star"

Yeah! Slot in the tape/CD/USB/iPod to the car stereo system and rev up the engine. My secret desire today is to drive a semi into the office of our government relations people and mow them down in one swift run-over. And if it isn't enough, back up a little and catch up on the stragglers.

I can't help it. I'm yearning to put my spirits on overdrive, and they're cramping my style. Seriously, they really are, but to give them the benefit, things aren't much in their control. On the other hand, most of them are doing so little to change the way they work.

Still, one learning I can pick up from here is that we often demand too much from others as opposed to giving ourselves a break when we fail. If we put the pedal to the metal, then we must do it for ourselves too.

Of course, the sneaky-dark feeling keeps on creeping up once and again. It's the fourth day of passport watch, and if I have to take the fifth I might seriously go "Jeremy" on these fellows. Yes, grasshoppers, run around and beg for your lives!

Scrunch, crunch.