SELF-PORTRAITURE: April and May 2011 and HAPPY BLOGOVERSARY

to me!

Wow I didn't even get to post the past couple of months... that's how time flew. I must've had fun.

Blog! It's been 4 years. Man!

I have nothing much to say except I need to get some sleep because I just came from a long ass ride home from Dumaguete City with my family and I am not myself when I am this tired. Travel is a bitch when you ain't rich. Ha.

For documentation purposes, I'm just going to leave these here:

shit-eating grin - on my way to Hush Hush 5 - April 2011

my birthday, May 2011

My face is a mound of dough right now. Food's been my best friend and worst enemy lately and forever but I want to go to the gym because I want to fit into my old hipster clothes again. Ha. I kid.

21 days into the year

and I've done nothing spectacular. On the brighter side, I've done nothing stupid so I'd like to think it's a win-win. I still haven't started that walking regimen. I guess it's better to not talk much about these things for it to eventually happen. I guess it's best to not talk about a lot of things for them to be alright.

So a bummer thing happened to me yesterday. No, it was more like a bummer feeling. Regret is shitty. It's involuntary and it takes away your over-all control. If you let it run amok in your head, it could mess you up big time. So, sometimes I let it. This is why I hate being away from the computer. This must also be why I haven't been writing so much anymore and I let my muse wander off without me. My cozy-ass bedroom is kind of evil. My writing materials, too.

I just can't deal with sentimentality right now.

Being a sad bastard all the time is taxing. Songs are okay. They are a lot more fleeting than literature. I only listen to music via the desktop PC now, where I have all the control buttons at my disposal. I can always cold switch my mood by browsing through tumblr and feel superior and not give fucks anymore. But my dungeon of a bedroom? Naaaaw.

HEAVY BOOTS EVERYWHERE.

My book hoarding has put a strain on my finances and my emotional health (not that I'm complaining).

Note to self: EVERYTHING IN MODERATION or whatever.

I was a Teenage Anarchist.

I was a Teenage Anarchist. When I was younger my opinions where very black and white, I was either for or against something, and that’s how I defined myself. A lot of those opinions where formed by social influence from the scene I was a part of, being younger I felt the need to belong to something, a group of people, I wanted acceptance. Over time I realized how some people use their positions of stature to pursue their own personal agenda’s, selling their own personal brand of self- serving revolution. This all being the complete opposite of what drew me towards Anarchism in the first place. I found that the people who professed the loudest that they were the most open minded individuals were in fact usually the most close minded. I feel like the revolution sold to me when I was a teenager by the punk scene, by the Anarchist scene was a lie. The real revolution was the political awakening. That initial spark that made me want to change the world. And that’s what I’m interested in, maintaining that fire. That’s what the song is about. I am an autonomous individual. I think for myself. I have no need to supplement my identity through belonging to a scene or exclusively endorsing any brand of political thought. And if anyone is offended by that I feel like it only reaffirms my conviction. For if it’s heresy for an Anarchist to say “FUCK Anarchy” then Anarchism is truly just another flag, and I say burn it along with the rest of them.

- Against Me's Tom Gabel talks about the new song “I Was A Teenage Anarchist”, how he got into Anarchism, and why he got out of it. 


Read the entirety of this essay.


I was reading this tonight and the one long paragraph above was the last part of a post. It wasn't eureka in a sense that Gabel said the words my mouth wasn't capable of saying but more like in a sense that I've found validation. A couple of years ago, I wrote this: 


We now live the irony of our songs. and 
We started this to break the rules but now the rules we've made confine us.


If I remember correctly, it was the time I and some friends discussed the state of the scene in our town. I have to admit, I felt we didn't have the right to question how things were run because although we did care about this community, we felt that 1. we didn't give our all to help 2. even if we did help, it would be inadequate to make the situation better 3. whenever we tried, our efforts were watered down by a few people.


I know, number three is a pretty heavy accusation but I would just want to say that it is not entirely baseless. For one thing, the exclusivity of the community has sky-rocketed to the point where it had become a closed clique, to the point of elitism. It is so sad to think how a community that embraced the people who are trying to fight discrimination have driven some of them away because of well, discrimination.


Absurd and ironic and sad.


I remember when I was interviewed by a friend in another scene from another town on why I chose to stay here longest, I paused and thought hard and I knew the answer lay in the ideal and I wanted to tell him that even though the ideal is no longer alive, the music and message still is, and even though people change, the idea of a family outside of your own is hard to drop. 


I told him that once, I was an outsider and I was invited into this community by a couple of old-timers. From there, I met really good friends but I never really felt that I belonged. I fell in love with everything the community stood for and I cared about the people. It was much like home but still, I felt adopted. Maybe that was why I considered my options and made friends with people who aren't part of this scene. I even put up shows in the hopes that I can create a new community where everyone is welcome to live out their most creative selves. I succeeded somehow, and I even bridged some gaps.


This isn't a promise but I will still take part and help whenever and however I can. This scene is a huge chunk of the person that I am now, in strengthening my beliefs. I just hope that the ones who's got a hold of it now will be a lot more receptive, will try to make it part of their plan to educate, not alienate and to 

P.S. Happy Birthday. You're old enough to drive.

Where'd my muse go?

Late into the year, I made up this lit blog to be a sort of online folder where I place stuff I've written. It felt like I carried an attache case purposefully open and walked out of my door to a windy street, let all my papers fly out for the whole world to catch or be slapped over the face with or step on. It was somewhat liberating because, unbeknownst to everyone, I am not comfortable with my notes to be made public. Having that blog took a lot of courage and of course, it ignited the fire to write again on a more regular basis so I have to say having that blog was a good move.

Now, I haven't been writing as much as I would like to. It seems I lack the inspiration. My prose factory is blacked out and the machines aren't working. Also, I haven't been drawing anything for over a month now and I'm really itching but I can't bring myself to. Why the fuck am I suddenly being temperamental?

Something is wrong within me, even chemically, I believe. These occurrences make me want to have a shrink figure me out and tell me exactly what furniture in my head I should move and what plant in the window I should throw out so my muse will come back and be willing to live with me again.

Fucking first world problems in a third world country.

Photo of me reading Nell Freudenberger's Lucky Girls totally unrelated to post. 

Deal with it.

Today, my brother bitched to me (again) about getting a job. I WILL, BROTHER!!! And also, I have. You may not believe it but I dragged my ass around town looking for a job and damn jobs I'm willing to take on are pretty good at hide and seek. I'll try again two weeks from now after I shaved and waxed my body spotless and baked my girlfriends their birthday cakes.

As for now, I am baked and going to bed and sleep a dreamless sleep.

SMILE!

2010 was a bitch

if you ask me. It really was, most of the time. And I did not mean that in a cute sort of nostalgic way. I am mad pissed at 2010 and I couldn't wait to start and see what a new year would be like. I should be grateful for a lot of things and I seriously and wholeheartedly am but this year had been heartbreaking and oppressive it felt like in every good thing that happened, there was a bad thing that came along with it double in size. I can't be compelled to delve into the nitty-gritty of it all because it would just demean the URL address of this blog. So my dear imaginary readers, I will spare you the details of my awful year.

For one thing, I decided to stop spreading this thing around which means you must be terribly bored if you are reading this. I do not judge you because I am also that way and being judgmental is stepping back 100 years which is idiotic.

I'm thinking, does this blog still serve a purpose other than being a dump for my shamelessness? I don't think so. But I also do not want to think that nobody ever reads this shit. Although, a part of me wants to think that so I won't ever have any qualms typing down like a mad woman and never ever censoring anything. But the truth is, there will always be one or two who'd stumble upon My Not-So-Private Life and they (you) may be the wrong people. I love you even if I don't know who you are but that's beside the point. The internet is still a scary place like.. the world.

I believe in many things like:
Nobody should take it against anyone if their blog has a picture of themselves shirtless.
Kindness will go a long way but getting your ass kicked is really terrible.
Being nice all of the time doesn't make you a good person.
Doing the right things will eventually pay off.
Everyone I know is living behind a facade including me. It's something to fight.
Personal demons can be scared off.
Right timing is everything and is so freaking hard.
Social anxiety is the worst kind of anxiety in the whole freaking universe.
et cetera et cetera

I'm not the most positive person like the way I use this internet moniker in half of my online accounts. In real life, I am a skeptic. At best, I am just plain lazy which can be misunderstood sometimes as being "chill". But no it's not "chill" it's being apathetic and that's never ever a positive trait. What's positive though is that I recognize that weakness and I'm trying to find ways to work around it. Work is positive. I'm kind of glad knowing I'm not spiraling downward. Not too much.

If there's a moral in this story, it's always find time to know yourself. Like what they say, every day is one day less. I figured everything I do better be worth it.

The Rules of Attraction

I always think about reasons to especially liking a person. In my "study", I get drawn to someone who gives me special attention, drops hints, remember the most remote things I said or in this case, "posted" in the past. I think those things light my fire immediately. So there was this incident when someone I've known for a long time did just that. It ignited some kind of flame or whatever.

Maybe, I'm just lonely as hell but still, it counted. I didn't toss and turn in bed thinking about it really but I couldn't take that incident off my mind. And well, along with that incident, is he.

I couldn't take him off my mind.

Seriously, seriously, seriously, I would not prefer to like this person. Why? Because I am not supposed to! But why? I would like to point out this man's + and - :

+ He is wise beyond his years, smarter than half of the people I know

- Younger than I

- Loud and obnoxious at times

+ Very very very ridiculously funny

- Drunk

- Hedonistic

+ Good looking

+ Articulate

+ Has a job

- We have too many common friends

Enough of this bullshit, really. But why? Why can't I like him?

I'd answer this, honest to blog.

I don't believe someone like him would want someone like me. I am just being realistic. I am not putting myself down. It's just that these things couldn't possibly happen to me. I know his type. He likes pretty girls. Ridiculously pretty girls. Okay, so do all boys. But yes, I am not his type. Period! And I should not like him. Period.

But I just couldn't take him off my mind.

The things he said and did (via alcohol).

The things he said and did, which may never happen again right?

That was just one night.

In the longest time we've known each other, he never ever ever took a point across or drop a hint that there is a slightest possibility that he likes me.

Never.

Just that one night.

And I shouldn't take this one night seriously, right?

No one like him would ever want me.

I am no exception to any rule.

He is one of those very very predictable men we call "bros" hahaha and he's got "bro" friends as well. The ones who post photos of very beautiful women in their facebook walls and discuss in painful detail everything they can possibly do to her.

Oh my God!

I couldn't possibly fall for a bro! Fuck this shit. Should move away from trouble before trouble's too deep.

The Pursuit of Money

Sitting here, in front of the computer, like right now makes me guilty. I am not at all resourceful in terms of finances. I've never brought home the bacon. Am I spoiled? Yes, in many ways imaginable. I have never had a job. A real one where I can say, "Mommy! I'm home!" and actually give my parents cold cash to help pay the rent or the bills. I did have a job back then. And I recently completed this job-training thing where I worked 2 and a half months without pay. But really. Money is tough to find. Tough to make. Tough to keep or save. Tough to think about.

Today is a Monday and I went out in the rain/heat (because the weather couldn't make up its mind) to hand out my updated resume to local food establishments. The type of job ranged from service crew to kitchen assistant/assistant cook. I am mainly praying to God and crossing my fingers to land the back-of-the-house type of job. Not that I suck at serving food really (anybody can do that shit) but I'm just dying to "jump start" my most-preferred career so to speak. I need to be that exception to the rule and actually live out my dream. Even if slaving in the kitchen doesn't seem to sound ambitious, you know, most people think of it as a dirty blue collar job (which it is!) but that's just what my heart desires to do. I can imagine myself working happily in the kitchen 10, 20, 30 years from now. I do not want a desk job (though surfing the interwebs and discovering new memes everyday is a very tempting work option) at this point. I have tried it and I find it very limiting. Chair, cubicle, paper, pens, computer everyday? No, thank you.

You know what, it has dawned on me that one of the heaviest themes in our life is the fact that we all need to know our purpose. We need to know it. Not all of us wants to know it or cares or thinks about it but I am pretty sure all of us, at some point, asked ourselves: "What do I want to do with my life?" and ultimately, "What am I here for?" and the event of finding out what is one of the greatest discoveries we will ever unearth from ourselves.

Now, that I brought that up, you have asked it yourself because you've read those two questions. Have you the answer already? Or are you having a hard time answering it. Really now. Think about it. Your job right now. Is this what life is about? Is it dead end? I know it's paying everything for you. Happiness. Happiness won't.

I really hope people are happy with what they're doing. It makes our lives easier, I believe. If you love what you do, you will never have to work a day in your life. That quote is very spot on. Not easy to follow or live out especially when there really aren't many options. I should know. I am one of you marginalized people. And there are so many of us fighting for that position in the local job listings. So many of us young and qualified. Damn.

But yes, I should not think that way, right? If I think that way, or if any of you imaginary readers would think that way, our hopes will burn to the ground. It's already bad enough that we go out in the rain/heat, count change to print out resumes, spend some more to get our 2x2's, humiliate ourselves in interviews, leaping out of our comfort zones only to be told, "We'll just call you" and never be holla'd back.

This is the point in my life when positivity should come in handy. Expectations should be lowered. Mother Teresa should be revered. Patience is a must-have virtue.

I hope the future posts in this blog is worthy of confetti. Career-wise.

There is nowhere else but here.

After almost a year, I'm back. I won't say for good (or for bad. . haha) but I came back because there really is nowhere else but here. For real time events, we all have Twitter and Facebook but I don't know. I am still itching to write sometimes. Tumblr isn't even an option. That site is more like a dump of everything you see and hear and photos and scraps of whatever stuff mostly forgettable anyway. It's too much to handle.

This blog is like an old provincial hometown I left for greener pastures (the latest innovative social networking sites) and somewhere to return to when life is just too much in the big city. I'm back.

A lot has happened the past year. I don't even know where to start. The great thing about writing in here is that I don't feel like there are rules to follow. I don't have to start chronologically right? Just the events that seem pretty major like:

♥ saw my sister and her family back home from Switzerland early this year

♥ finished my last three major subjects with good grades

♥ worked in a restaurant kitchen for 2 1/2 months without pay

♥ went to Manila - saw Dashboard Confessional play and talked to Chris Carrabba for like a few seconds lol and have him sign a cd and my shirt

♥ tasted Dairy Queen for the first time

♥ saw a man I love get married

♥ found someone else to love and he turns out to be married(ish. . seriously taken)

stuff like that. .

Sorry about the last two in the list, I am quite OA when it comes to matters of the heart and I guess having a food blog and keeping myself busy with other things like career (which I don't have as of the moment) and family and music and art and whatever doesn't really change that fact, it just helps in alleviating and/or aggravating the problem. . whatever works. LOL

My last post in here's like September 2009. Fast forward to today.

I had this petty fight with my ma this afternoon because she rearranged furniture in my bedroom and I didn't want her to. But she was right and I was wrong. The bedroom looked better. I just couldn't admit it to her though or she would be high and mighty yak about how right she was. I love her. She cares about the things I care about. My brother told me to throw away my books because he thinks it is the devil. He said it made me jaded and artsy and fucks up my priorities and he said the reason why I don't have a love life and a job is because I am too alternative and passive and hedonistic and selfish. In his words, I don't take life seriously.

He may have a point. But headstrong as I am, I do not take it. Really, this is all I got. These are the only things I know are mine. If he took away the very few things I'm good at, I am better dead.

I just fell silent today. What am I in this house but a bum? He's right in that area.

But you know, I try. I am looking for a job. I am waiting for calls.

And I don't want to work a job that I don't like (call center agent?).

I would rather get minimum wage cooking or busing dishes.

I could not throw away my books. I could not stop listening

to the type of music I love.

I know a lot of people who threw their dreams away for money. I know a lot of people who chose to turn their backs from the things and people they love for something the world told them would be better.

They are miserable.

Call me immature. I am just not that type of person. I tried to be. I felt dead, you know. Really, I would rather die.

Happiness can't be bought.

I just want to be happy.

We all do.

Midnight wonder.

When we began, we knew what we were here for: the discovery of deeper understanding, the need to tame the rage of our idealistic youth. When did we stop questioning and why? We now live the irony of our songs. It pains me to see us turn out the way we shouldn't be. Did we forget what we began? Our causes running out like burning coals left out to die. We started this to break the rules but now the rules we've made confine us.

When did we stop questioning and why?

I'm sad I'm not a geek.

As much as I would die to be in a classroom with an intellectual teaching the class, that is not going to happen. Not in a million years and not in the school I'm in. As much as I would die to be in a classroom where the teacher would throw reading assignments enough to make the class' nose bleed, these are things that are made out of movies, daydreams and English majors. So if you belong to a school or a class like that, you better make the most of it and learn to appreciate intellectual insults scrawled on your reaction paper. Thank the heavens that it was even read. I have been in and out of college for almost ten years now and there is barely a single change in course outlines. I understand that these things must be tried and tested to work but it just doesn't seem enough! When will they start pumping out brilliance from people? Or is that even part of the plan? Or is school:diploma the be-all and end-all for us students?

I know I sound like a geek. I'm not. I'm sad that I'm not a geek. I even doubt half the school's population would agree with all I'm whining about but I'm just sad that my handbook doesn't include a single poem from Cummings (nor coming) or Yeats (though we were taught about yeast). I'm sad that the arts and sciences subjects are the least favorite of the students and people cuss out Filipino and History teachers. I'm sad that the teachers are too tired and indifferent to make the kids like them. I don't blame anyone. I'm just sad.

I know people are born intellectuals but they can be made too and even genius babies couldn't grow up genius without the resources, without being taught. I'm sorry if I sound OA. I'm just upset because today, a teacher skipped an important chapter in our textbook probably assuming we learned all that in high school. She should have known 90% of us were powdering our noses when we were 15. I wasn't. But them.

Sigh?

I'm upset because my seatmate got into college without knowing what a postman was.


What is a rhetorical question?
Who the fuck cares anymore?