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.

SELF-PORTRAITURE: January 2011

Assuming that I'm going to be blogging until (and if ever) I reach 40, I'm going to take a monthly photo of myself. This is a great idea, wouldn't you agree?

Also thinking I'd someday turn the photos into an animated .gif or better yet, a slideshow with a really sentimental background song about aging or letting go. Hahaha. Fuck no.

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.

So I saw this a few minutes ago

on a tumblr page. It's cute but it doesn't feel right (whatever that means). Maybe I'm sensitive to placement and font style. Also, she's probably a teen. Also, those are lyrics to a song that she likes. I've nothing against that and of course, y'all can do whatever you want with your body and maybe that song means the world to her.

But I really find that a waste of tattoo space.

I'm so irked by it.

I don't know. My chest piece isn't grandiose art, it's even misaligned, but I find it right. I've also come across a lot of less than pretty tattoo designs but it's forgivable.

I feel that a text tattoo is just different in a way that it has to be very well-thought-out and strategically placed or else, a small mistake could really turn it into a hideous piece of shit.

Is that Comic Sans? Good Lord!

But this!

It's outrageous but it actually works. Taste really goes a long way.

IN OTHER (BUT RELATED) NEWS:

Dear future self, I've been spending my days scrolling down tumblr pages. It's quite alarming. Like at this very moment, it's 5:19 am and I'm wide awake and I purposefully drank a mug of black coffee to sketch a little bit and blog and check tumblr. I'll sleep (most likely) at 6:30. I'll wake up at around 12 or 1pm and have coffee and check on tumblr again and I'll refresh and reblog and ooh and ahh and say things like WHAT IS LIFE and WHAT IS THIS I CAN'T EVEN and laugh and know what they mean like these bloggers are my friends and I've known them my whole life. I can do this all day until night falls again and maybe I get a little sidetracked by cable TV.

I wouldn't even entertain the idea of going out (except, of course, for free food - HOLLER AT ME!).

This is the laziest I've ever been.

Thing is, it's been raining and the temperature miraculously dropped after the first day of the year. I swear, the whole 2010 I've been wishing for this thing to happen and it did! I don't know if it's right to be happy about it since our countrymen farther north are going through a rough time with floods and all but I could not deny the truth that I am very relaxed and at peace in this weather.

Sometimes, I think I must have been born in the wrong side of the world.

Sometimes, I think I must have been born wrong.

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!

TWENTY ELEVEN

It's the time for resolutions once more but we all know we can follow our dreams any day of the year, it just really depends on how we feel and what we are going through and all other factors affecting our lives and stuff. So it really is safe to say that we don't have the right to judge people who've made long listas for the new year but unable to accomplish anything over a month.

How defensive.

I haven't had alcohol on the first day of the year and it doesn't feel right but I spent hours in the kitchen cooking for a party of 100. I think I've gotten sick, been coughing and wheezing and having minor headaches. I'll survive this.

Instead of making new year's resolutions, I decided to try to continue what I've been doing since the last quarter of 2010.

I drew and painted, I cooked and wrote and blogged about it and I stayed at home a lot more (which made my parents really freakin' happy). All I'm willing to do now is to stop worrying too much about the future because 1. worrying is pointless and 2. the future should worry about me. I really did LOL IRL.

Seriously, worrying got me nowhere.

I don't know what it is with 2011 but I have a really strong gut feel that it's going to be a much better year than 2010 the same way I kind of felt near the end of 2009 that 2010 is going to suck.

I DON'T MAKE ANY SENSE BUT THIS IS MY BLOG AND...

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.