reality...

We can pretend to be brave to conceal our fears, pretend to be smart to conceal our insecurities; pretend to be strong to conceal our weaknesses; pretend to be happy to conceal our longings.

But no matter how much we pretend to conceal our negativities, we will always be pierced by reallity.

Maybe, that's what life is all about. Reality bites but we can never bite it back.

silently grieving

Right now, as my fingertips thump through the keyboard, I'm still not sure whether this is the smartest idea, subjecting my thoughts to scrutiny and criticism. I love writing and by far, writing is still the best form, the best avenue that I can let my demons out, dust out the cobwebs from my soul. I'm not saying that I write well. Neither am I saying that posting a weblog is something I can claim as an original idea. God knows I've seen people do it, and I have to admit, a whole lot of them do it well. But really, although this shall surely be read by a lot of people, it's something I'll still definitely attempt to pour my heart out on and make my own.

Life has its own system of attrition much akin to animals. Like most animals, I tell myself, people have this unique way to recognize an opportunity to escape from a coming storm, fleeing in great stampedes and leaving the solace of familiar grounds to ensure their existence. In the span of a month, I've lost a lot of people whose precious connections to me were severed due to a multitude of reasons. People online, colleagues, friends; with reasons like better career opportunities, personal conflicts, inner turmoil and the like. Somehow, I feel like I was the turf they once belonged to and their sudden departure felt violent that I felt like I was being trampled on as they fled one by one. Now, there's no one left to face the storm but me and I stare at the darkening skies still hearing the echoes of their thronging quest to survive in a "better" world. Of course, being nothing but turf, I am stuck here, nowhere to go and just waiting, breathing heavily as I await the impending doom that they all sensed. Maybe I was just too dense, trying so much to act human, when all I needed to do was tap way down into that part of me that had that animal intuition.

There was a time that I was able to listen to that animal instinct easily, when alarms would ring in my head and I would be alerted to the danger signs waving and hollering right before my eyes. But a person who wants to be free from fear, free from loneliness, free from financial constraints, free from all hang-ups would act more human, trying to make everything logical. It would only be too late to realize that the freedom lay in that basic instinct to recognize the speeding point of the spear and step back before it struck your heart.

From this day on, I swear. I'll go back to being the animal I once was.

the day it poured

You pick up your pen and begin to scribble… to write… to cry… to let it all out. And with every stroke, with every line, an emotion would flow. Every sentiment you’ve hidden will now reveal itself, imprinted and carved on wood pulp. You dot your I’s with tears, and your periods with pain so unbearable you’d wish you could scream. And if you could, they would hear. You wish that someone would come across it and read between the lines. That somehow he or she would understand. Or that he or she would even offer his or her shoulder. Maybe just the simple thought that they would shake their head, wipe a tear and feel your pain would be enough for you. And somehow you would have strength to move on… to quench that pain and smile.

Yet you are left hollow... unfilled… and empty. Amid this torture you imagine a friend. A friend who would not judge nor condemn you for whatever thoughts you have. A friend, who, unlike the ones you thought would stand by you, would never leave. Someone who would be able to look at you straight in the eye and say, “It’s okay… it doesn’t matter.” Someone who would feel with you, understand you, give you strength… and maybe even breathe a new life into you.

You imagine… and with that, the pen would drop from your grasps, the paper would lay forgotten, your angst left unwritten… Thank you, "M" for taking that call and listening to my rants.. Twas really appreciated..

blathers

I wish to write about happy times, of children propping themselves on dry leaves, of impulsive road trips, of clear facets of glass prisms, nudities, white sand beaches, of first kisses, of intense lovemaking. I wish to capture the fleeting moments and bottle them up in contemplation. All but wishful thinking!

I miss myself humming and smiling to myself whenever some of the little pleasures cross my mind, waving, smiling, calling my name -- join us, let's frolick in the mud! I am turned to moments of disquietude during ungodly hours. Melancholy, being an unwelcome bedfellow. What happened to life and its promises? What happened to wit, i am surrounded by mortal idiots!

I wish I could get just a week off. *sigh*

just rants

Funny thing is, the people who treat ugly people most aversely are those who aren’t so pretty themselves. The kind of people who spend serious money on cars and houses, on pots and pans of colors and oils and scents, and splurge on designer clothes and things which make them look like… no, not someone who just stepped out of a magazin - rather, like a walking billboard really. They pay Tommy and Ralph a bunch of bucks to make them look like an Ivy Leaguer wannabe. Either these fashion horses feel most prone to ugliness, or deep down inside they’re really ugly and being around ugly people suddenly sets of one of those loud signaling devices embedded somewhere in their person. “Wee-yoooo-weeee-yoooo, fellow ugly person within 3 feet. Weee-yoooo-weeee-yoooo.” Secret’s out. Uh-oh, what ARE you going to do now? Your life is ruined! Everyone knows you’re ugly! Uh… reality check, honey. You weren’t exactly doing a very good job of hiding it. Here’s a tip: Why not get an ACTUAL Ivy League education! How’s that for a fashion statement? Uh, right. Too difficult. All the Aqua Net must have ravaged your brain. Am I allowed to say ‘ugly’ or am I supposed to say ‘visually offensive’ for political correctness? Oh, heck, forget political correctness. It only gives people a license to be politely rude. “Oh, she’s just a person of considerable size.” Considerable friggin’ size?!? Consider this: She’s FAT. And just because you’re afraid of eating one measly potato chip doesn’t mean she’s miserable for eating a box of mallows in one sitting! So there.

I don’t really understand why thin people make this big fleshy deal about what they put in their mouth. Counting calories, weighing fat grams, measuring serving sizes, why go through such torture over satisfying such a basic need? And, the dripping envy oozing out of their pores when they see some relatively bigger person helping herself to a second serving of chocolate cake? “That’s why she’s so horizontally challenged,” they say with so much bitterness, it overcomes the strength of freshly-brewed coffee. Challenged?!? She’s been blessed with hips, hallelujah. She’s not a walking toothpick, woopdeedoo. How presumptuous is it to consider weight as much of a misfortune to others as it is for yourself?

People set standards. Hairy legs, bad. Manicured toes, good. Hips, bad. Breasts, good. Where did all these guidelines come from? And, why are we following them? I don’t remember signing up for any club membership, which required me to torment myself with that hideous activity, called “waxing”. Wax belongs on the floor, on cars and on candles. Not on my legs. My legs are just fine, thank you, even with the dark patches on my knees reminding me of a time when showing my “battle scars” to little boys impressed them and encouraged them to play with me. “Okay, you can play with us. You’re not like those scaredy-cat girls.” Such pride I derived from those days in the sunshine, sweat on my face, dirt on my shirt, running with the pack. Until the little boys grew up and started running after the girls for a completely different kind of game. My scars, which were my passport into the secret society of bike riding and tree climbing, became the prohibition condition to the world of dating and courting. And they say women change their minds too often.

Either we’ve all seen to many Pygmalion-themed movies or we’ve all been adversely affected by the story of the Ugly Duckling. I always secretly hoped that instead of turning into a beautiful swan, he just stayed an ugly duckling, went to another part of the pond, founded a colony of ugly ducklings who took over the pond and became filthy rich selling pre-packaged duck food to the vain ducklings who didn’t have time to worry about food. I know it’s far-fetched but isn’t the idea of superficially cruel, narcissistic ducks stretching the truth a bit already?

They say that movies like My Fair Lady, Clueless and Cinderella are all meant to be inspiring, but what are they supposed to inspire exactly? Discontent? Self-denial? Delusion? Are we all supposed to believe that a wave of a glossy black mascara wand can help us find Prince Charming? Are we supposed to think that wearing a pair of Nike Air Jordans and clicking your heels three times is going to help you find your way to the Wonderful Wizard of Love, Happiness and Lots of Women?

Fairy tales make everything seem so easy. There should be some form of a disavowal after each one of those sappy happy loopy stories:

DISCLAIMER:When we say ‘The End’. We don’t really mean it. Life doesn’t end in happily ever after, but whatever happens after is usually too uninteresting or too morbidly traumatic that it won’t look very good in print. For insights on subsequent events, please refer to ‘Mars and Venus Get a Divorce’ or ‘Chicken Soup for the Lonely, Dumped and Broken-Hearted’. Thank you.”

I sort of think it’s rather sad when I go to a local Starbucks and see it chock full of teenagers, sipping Frapuccinos and talking as if their lives were so marvelously interesting. Shouldn’t you be at home studying instead of spending your parents’ money on cigarettes and bar drinks? Flirt, flirt, gossip, gossip, flaunt, flatter, flee reality. Life in two dimensions: Denial and Pretension. They start so young. Why do you need to sit in a café and pay for overly-priced coffee in order to make yourself feel better about who you are, kid? Why is there an absolute necessity to flaunt that you’re better than that young girl out in the parking lot selling flowers for tomorrow’s lunch money? By the way, it’s your parents’ money, not yours. Starbucks perfectly represents the widening financial disparity of this country.

Sometimes, I feel a bit ashamed that I just spent some family’s one week’s worth of dinner money just so I can get a caffeine fix. I’m not really paying for the “fresh brewed Argentinian coffee beans”. I’m paying for the fun of coming into Starbucks in slippers and a raggedy shirt and watching the little cliques stare at me as if I were insane. Not everyone needs to look like a movie actress to feel good about themselves, children. (Excuse me, while I roll my eyes at myself.) I shouldn’t care, really, what other people think. And just because I’m not all fluffed up and prettied doesn’t mean I don’t have the same holier-than-thou-art attitude. On the contrary, my blatant disregard for convention is rooted in an even greater need to be above others. Self-righteous maturity is the biggest oxymoron of this century.

I’m not prejudiced against ugly people. I’m not prejudiced against pretty people. I’m prejudiced against people who aren’t being true to who they are, including myself. I know some of these pretensions are rooted in something outside of oneself and is actually a derivative of a society whose identity was lost a long time ago when the Spanish burned everything down, but I believe that there’s a way to exist wherein your point is not to be better than others, not to make others feel less about themselves and definitely not to become someone else. I believe that you don’t have to have a fairy tale life in order to be happy with who you are. Make do instead of make up. Accept instead of pretend. Self-love instead of envy. To want ourselves instead of wanting to be someone else. To consider anything fake as ugly and anything real as inherently beautiful.

I just want to stop needing to escape from myself and into anonymity in order to feel freed from shame of what 26 years of living has made of me. I don’t want to be a by-product of money, appearances, reputations and all that. I just want to be me, whoever I am. Though living in this plane of existence makes it very difficult to tell the difference anymore between real me and derived me.

I lost my point somewhere, I think. Can you find it? I’m done.

Oh, wait. By the way, as much as there are sweeping generalizations in this here mess of words here, you know I'm not talking about everyone who's ever bought something expensive and nice-y for themselves nor all the people loitering in Starbucks nor all thin people nor all anything at all. There are certain kinds of people who filter through the cracks of pretension (meaning they AREN'T pretentious), the ones who don't get past are the ones I'm talking about. Oh, you know what I'm talking about here, so just can it. End disclaimer.

conversations

Him: Let me be frank with you, I love your passion for your job that's why I want you to be part of my team. How do you feel about transferring?

----

Me: Thank you! I'd take that as a compliment. About transferring, I believe it requires a lot of thinking but then again, possibilities are endless. And of course, the price! (believe me, this caught me off guard and I intentionally joked on the price to let the uneasiness subside.)

----

Him: You dont have to worry about the pay. What I need you to do is think about this offer. Give me your number and I'll call you next week.

----

Has the time arrived? Is this what I have been waiting for? I'll leave it up to the moon and stars for now...

How do we drive the evil forces away?

I really do not have a sure fire answer to this question, except that lately I have been subjected to such strength of force. I am evilmyself, but some would have much stronger power than mine. And I was not prepared because I thought that evil of the same degrees celsius of fire would flock together. However, I was wronged by some events that occured inside my kingdom.

The week was surely stressed-charged characterized with tears and shouting bouts with the cosmic powers. However, the evil forces culminated with the ending of a story, which I looked forward to end in a fairy tale but ended otherwise. Moreover, reasons of unparalled irrationality and impracticality abounded. It was so much fun, definitely pun intended.

When I prayed for drama and instability, i did not really pray that hard to be given this exciting eent in my life’s chapter. Oh well, just like any other bullshits that hit me, I’ll get over this and will definitely win,notwithstanding the fact that I have already won by merely going through these.

a birthday greeting from my Team

Carefully consider the infinite possibilities.
Think of the entire if’s, what’s, so, therefore and every other function.
It could have been any other person in another world.
But this universe conspired and decided it’s going to be Annamie and Paolo.

And we are so much grateful that has happened.

We want to thank you for sharing your good years with us.
The laughter, tears, joy, learning, arguments and love we all have borne together has made this friendship truly an honor and a royal privilege.

Our prayers are with you this day and always.
May the good Lord bless and keep you at all times.

Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday Self!

Today is my birthday.

When you're young you think that when you get older, you get more answers. Now that the number in the age prompt is higher today than it was yesterday, it seems like I only get more questions.

For example, why the hell are birthdays happy? I personally haven't had one since I was seven.

I mean, by the time people think that you can personally fend for yourself, they stop giving you anything on your birthday. Your birthday then becomes something you save up for so that your buddies can get sloshed on your behalf.

It's quite the karma event, actually.

First of all, you get great presents for the first decade and change of your life, and then you get to pay for all those wonderful presents that you got as a kid. Twelve years of in, the rest of your life out. What an exchange.

What if you had a bad childhood? Does that entitle you to 12 years of wonderful gifts later on in life? I don't think life works that way.

Now that I'm 26, this, I guess is supposed to be the year I start paying up for all those other people who never had a happy childhood, who never had a birthday cake, who don't know what it means to have a Happy Birthday. I never thought I could feel such happiness.

However, that could explain how you have to pay for your birthday parties far longer than other people have paid for yours.

Could it be that these greetings are so that you can appreciate people wishing you well? Is that what birthdays are for, to let you know that you're not such a loser, that some people still care for you? Doesn't that same principle apply to Easter, Valentine's Day, Christmas, and all the other life events that require a greeting card? So, what gives?

Let's say that it's just another card-giving occasion. What happens when the greetings become really superficial? Like if they come from officemates you love to hate? What if you work for the Postal Service? Does that entitle you to more heartfelt greetings? I don't think the world spins that way.

A friend says that people wish you happiness on your birthday so you don't think about how much older you've become and how much closer you get to the time you die. If you look at it that way, then your birthday is a really sh*tty day, probably the sh*ttiest one of the year, and birthday greetings are nothing but an exercise in denial. Is that the way the world spins? I hope to Christ not.

If you're anything like me, you don't expect to live much beyond 50. Bad habits like smoking, drugs, food, fear of exercise, and a sedentary lifestyle contribute to my prediction of early coronary heart failure. I mean, my ALgebra professor died before he hit 40, and I'm way fatter than he was at my age.

Should today, therefore, mark the onset of my half life crisis? I guess that puts me ahead of my peers. I'm already halfway through, while they've got a whole lifetime ahead of them (change not included). So, eat, drink, be fat, obese and merry, because these things put you ahead in life. Perhaps that's the way it's supposed to work.

Hahahaha. Happy Birthday to me. :)

The Brain and Society

Is there no hope for the human future? The answer to this lies in the labyrinthine structure of the human brain.

More than twenty years ago, the American neuropsychologist Paul MacLean, after extensive research, came up with a model of human brain structure which he called the triune brain. According to him, the human brain "amounts to three interconnected biological computers," each having its own intelligence and subjectivity.

The smallest of these is the Reptilian or R-complex, so called by MacLean because, as his studies revealed, it is responsible for aggressiveness, territoriality, ritualism, and hierarchy, which characterize reptilian behavior. It is therefore the part of the human brain to which can be traced the origins of imperialism, racism, sexism, elitism, authoritarianism, and totalitarianism.

Surrounding the R-complex is the Limbic System, which is absent in reptiles and which we share in its fully developed form with other mammals. It is the source of strong or especially vivid emotions. According to the late world-renowned polymath Carl Sagan, "There are reasons to believe that the beginnings of altruistic behavior are in the limbic system. Indeed, with rare exceptions (chiefly the social insects), mammals and birds are the only organisms to devote substantial attention to the care of their young..." Who has not seen a dog growling and gritting its teeth as a stranger attempts to approach its puppies? Or a cat moving its kittens to a safe spot somewhere? Or a hen risking its life to save its chicks?

Lying upon the rest of the brain is the Neocortex which comprises about 85 percent of the human brain and is present in a less developed form in other mammals. Our ability for abstract thought and reasoning springs from a highly developed neocortex. Mathematics, science and technology, arts and letters, and philosophy--these are all creations of the human neocortex.

The largeness of the human neocortex in comparison with the R-complex and the limbic system gives a telling indication of what we can be. It means that nature has gifted us with a tremendous ability to curb our baser instincts. If society is mired neck-deep in decadence, it is because our neocortices have not been put to full use. But prospects for a bright future are extremely high, if only we could will ourselves to try hard enough.

That we humans have been slavishly acquiescent to the reptilian component of our nature shows how little we respect ourselves as a species. Our species is distinguished from the rest of the animal world by the possession of a greatly advanced neocortex, but our neglect of this very important part of our brain makes us little different from the lowest beasts. It is through a maximum use of the neocortex that the human race shall become truly human.

"If you know both yourself and your enemy, you can come out of hundreds of battles without danger."

The title can be taken from one of the books I never fail to read over and over again.

13 Chapters... 13 amazingly cunning and brilliant chapters...

Laying Plans... Waging War... Attack by Stratagem... Tactical Dispositions... Energy... Weak Points & Strong... Maneuvering... Variation in Tactics... The Army on the March... Terrain... The Nine Situations... The Attack by Fire... The Use of Spies...

Niccolo Machiavelli. His name synonymous to ruthless politics, deceit, and the pursuit of power by any means.

Why am I writing about him and his book, "The Art of War"? Because he deserves recognition. Applause. Worship.

He is one person who influenced a lot of people I know to be ruthless, deceitful and overly zealous in the pursuit of power by any means.

the naked truth

I am on an unprecedented personal pilgrimage – pilgrimage towards the truth. My journey, perilous and dangerous, has been on a rocky and bumpy road ever since because few dared to walk this road, much more pave the way with concrete for others to follow. This personal undertaking met several obstacles and hazards; I was even called a lunatic and a fool at times. But such petty (yet degrading) obstacles would never deter my determination to advance this seemingly impossible adventure because as long as there are conspiracy theories, as long as there are controversies and lies, there would always be fuel to my rampaging drive towards the truth.

I thought I already made myself clear on the entire brouhaha (or should I say “bruhilda-haha”?). This scandal is coming out of people’s ears, all over. People just seem bent on making the story drag on and on.

And on.

Being the frustrated writer that I am, I write about so many things. But people are on a rampage against me; and they refuse to be ignored. So pardon me for using precious blog space to clarify matters. I think it’s best to put everything down in black and white now, in a form that I can’t disown later rather than talking my voluble mouth out - uttering words relentlessly that can later be spliced for the sheer purpose of sensationalizing and/or pitting personalities against one another. It’s sheer stupidity!

What is this issue about then?

Why is the issue suddenly being diverted from the real protagonists? I’m not trying to save face here. I take full responsibility for everything that comes out in my bulletin or in my blogs or in my mouth for that matter. But can we please stick to valid questions and statements? Do not question my credibility. It’s still intact, sorry to disappoint. If you so abhor people’s scrutiny and would want to avoid people’s watchful eyes, why didn’t you go about this whole thing quietly? And no, I'm not going to ask my boss to back me up. He remains to be the person who exercise his faculty with wisdom and tact. He has nothing to do with this and with whatever word that comes out of my mouth. I just stated a personal opinion that I believe I am entitled to.

I believe it's about time you look at yourselves. Examine your motives. Reflecton the things that you’ve done. The issue here is not about me talking but about you and your actions! Take responsibility! Own it! Newton’s Third Law of mation after all states that "in every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction." Eat that! You do not have any reason nor justification where your venom is coming from!

I was thinking of putting this stuff to a halt and give peace a chance but hell, you and your minions are doing things behind my back - conspicuously telling people "wa koy utang kabu but on" because you were one of the few people who wanted me to get the position. With all due respect, I never failed to thank the people supported me in anyway they can. And I never fail to look back and appreciate and count my blessings. So, what’s next? Ambush? Assassination? Should I be more watchful of my routine because I might end up inside a coffin? A "PROJECT" perhaps? God forbid! But you see, am not afraid. You can go on give me the cold shoulder, talk behind my back, be ballistic and berate me more, I DON’T GIVE A RAT’S ASS!

Frankly, I dont bother to hear the most recent chismis and statements; I don’t fancy listening to a broken record. But well-meaning friends told me how people went Annmae-bashing on several occasions. It’s very disappointing that people like you - professional and in the position, allow or do such a heartless tirade! Does being a professional give you the license to waste valuable time lambasting anyone you please at anytime and can just get away with anything?

Your words are a novelty to me. Enduring your wrath is a small price to pay, to prove that you can’t buy everybody. As a true child of this dog eats dog world, I’d like to believe there’s still hope for everything, but only if we don’t allow a few like you to monopolize it.

Me, caught in a terrible and deadly dilemma, realized my important duty then – from here on I should be critical/skeptical and even more investigative in pursuit of the truth. I should untangle the web of conspiracy, layer by layer, until what is left is the naked truth. And this should my goal from then on, my only obligation: to clear what were intentionally obscured.

The only consolation left to is the fact that the truth is out there (ala X-Files) – isolated, hidden and untold. And it is probably our manifest destiny to uncover the conspiracies proliferating in our society, in our history books, in the office and in our very souls. Now let us haste for the time is ripe for our quest. And then maybe, just maybe, one day: I will end this adventure a thing or two wiser and more enlightened for making the journey. I am human, bound to commit mistakes. I’ve done some or so many stupid things in my life but I still stand by what I said!

success!

What measures success?

I had a very interesting conversation yesterday that drives me to ask this question...

Is it the money one makes?

Is it the property you've acquired?

Is it the security you get?

Is it having people who love you to share your successes with?

Or is it the sense of peace, that you feel you are doing something relevant that makes people see you and want to be like you... well, not in a messianic complex way...

It's the way you expand your circle of influence... making people believe in themselves...

What's weird was how he thanked me for believing in what he can do...

Hmmm... I guess going back to Maslow's hierarchy of needs, this does make sense.... gaining approval....

Success is immaterial if you cannot go beyond yourself; to help the people around you see their true potential or push them towards self-realization. This is what Maslow calls self-transcendence.

I'm too tired to explain this, but if you've attended Psychology 101, I guess we're on the same page... :)

Principle... Heck of a Principle!

A man who lives by his principles is a man free from regret. At least, this is what I would like to believe in. Yes, there are times when I have done things dastardly, and I would oftentimes bang my head on the table for having done them but the afterthoughts that come always bring me to a realization that despite my not knowing during the time that I was doing them, they REALLY needed to be done.

And somehow, I feel proud. I never see myself in the path of hardship that so many people try to get out of. Yes, yes. Every now and then there are times that I wish I was out of a certain rut, but that's totally different. I don't deliberately walk into puddles. But deliberate or not, something small yet significant would happen that would suddenly slap me across the face and tell me that I'm still the luckiest bastard around, despite the mud around my feet. These small things make me realize that nothing happens without reason... and my reasons, should my situation be brought about by deliberate effort, are reasons I believe in and reason enough for me to see things through. Yes, even during the times when there are people who do not believe in them.

How do I come across these occurences, these realizations? Simply by wearing rose-tinted glasses. One of the strongest principles I believe in is the intrinsic good in everything and everyone. Somebody may treat me like shit one day, but I would never take it against that person. Something or someone else may have affected that person enough to react, and I just happened to be in the crossfire. Most people are built in such a way that they prefer to think of themselves as victims...they holler, "This is me, after I was ravaged by the world!" and would hit back with a vengeance should something untoward occur to them.

I'm not one of those people now. People would always ask me why I have become so "non-confrontational"... why I think things over before I react and why I hold a certain period of silence first before actually reacting to anything.

Well, I'm fortunate enough to be able to acknowledge the fact that yes, the world can be vicious, but only if I allow its ferocity to swallow me up. Whoever coined the phrase "fight fire with fire" was one dumb fuck. Einstein once said that no problem can ever be solved with the same level of consciousness that created it. I believe in that too. So, fire with fire? Hahaha. Idiocy at its finest.

I saw "National Treasure" today. Boarding house seemed like a furnace so I wasnt able to sleep well. There was this scene in the movie wherein they had to look at the map encrypted behind the Declaration of Independence with a set of multi-lensed spectacles. Nicolas Cage's character saw one clue and thought that it was just that...one clue. Interrogated, buffeted by crises, he saw that looking at each layer of the lenses gave out more clues...that more and more clues can be generated with how you actually use the special set of glasses. That's how life is... only a lot of people are satisfied with just that one clue, which will lead them to a dead end. People never take time to look at another perspective anymore. Life is never skin deep. Life is never taken at face value.

I'm reading Stephen Covey's The Eighth Habit now. There was reference to the same thing. The False Paradigm. For example, people during George Washington's time thought that the cure-all for any and every illness was bloodletting... that every illness is brought about by something vile in the blood. Thus most history books indicate that he died out of a throat infection. Who dies because of a throat infection??? It never occured to the chroniclers of his time that the probable cause of his death was bloodletting... pints and pints of blood drained out of him within a twenty-four hour period, when it's common knowledge today that a person can only survive a certain amount of blood loss within a specific timeframe. And the history books never changed that. They never dug in deeper. It was already an accepted paradigm. Ah, what sweet mistakes we make.

So... I guess I've made my point for today. Right now, I feel like I'm a sponge... just sucking in so much of the things I'm forcing in my head... and it's fun. I want this. I need this. I want more principles. I want more things to guide me. I want to be a person full of principles until every human reaction I see before me is something I can connect to a principle.

Or... maybe I'm just bored. Heck, I don't know. I'm sure I'll thrive on this for a few days... maybe even a few weeks. Until the time that it fizzles out, then learning is my current principle.

on giving up

I keep my word, I finish everything I begin, and I exalt this sense of responsibility as a virtue. Quitting was never an option for anything. "Gisudlan nimo, dapat, imong humanon!" was what I’d always tell myself.

But recently, I’ve realized that there are higher virtues than commitment.

***
I am currently on my 8 months of being a trainer. It was a very sensational promotion considering that I was an agent who snatched the position from 3 other managers who applied. When the position was given to me, I figured I should take it as a sign that this was perhaps something I was meant for.

Certainly the past months were anything but easy, but I survived somehow. Some of the horror stories I believed about the job are true; as true as some are overrated perhaps, but true nonetheless. They’re harrowing, but they’re never enough to disenchant you, really: In truth, the workload is manageable, and the boss more often than not give us what we deserve. Workplace politics plateau eventually, as it does elsewhere. At some point, you learn who to trust and what to believe. Eventually, things stabilize.

And things have in fact stabilized for me. But this stability, I fear, has brought me everything but happy thoughts and cotton candy. With the turbulence of the first months jitters now over, with my niche in tact and a measure of security somewhat in store, I find myself least amused and most tired than I’ve ever been. I’ve started dreading going to work every day, and often end up wanting not to go all. Each task I do I pray to be the last.

But I don’t really want to stick to around to find out for how long. Not this time, anyway.
If I were me 8 months back, I would probably try to slap some sense into me, or sleep this ennui off: I’m a couple of years shy of a more stable future; a couple of years years shy of being able to know enough to change the world in my own little way, as the cliché goes; and a couple of years shy of earning the respect of my parents who thought I couldn’t do any better.

But 8 months in this job have changed me. I cannot now, for the life of me, see what lies beyond those long, 8 months.

And I don’t want to remain unhappy. I am not happy where I am at right now, and I will not waste more months trying to convince myself that I am. Years from now, I will be years older, and by then, I would have thrown more of my early twenties to the throes of mediocrity.

***
Aristotle said that happiness is the end most sought for. And indeed it is. Of course Aristotle probably referred to that happiness beyond the measly glee brought about by novelty or youth, or the fleeting gladness in temporality. But philosophical abstractions notwithstanding, things are often simpler than they seem: When you don’t think you’re happy, you probably aren’t.

And if there’s anything I’m certain of right now, it’s that I know that I’m not.

And this is why, for once, I will give up. That much I owe to myself. And when I do, I will never be prouder because despite appearances, quitting will be by far the bravest thing I would have ever done.

And so, dear job, allow me to wind up and get things done, before I bid you adieu to see the world.