Category Archives: Life

Places

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A cool breeze gently touched his face as he stepped out. He stopped, bottle in hand, and closed his eyes for a bit to savor the crisp, soothing flow. A voice breaks the quick, serene moment: “Nice night for a drink, eh?” He lets out a sarcastic chuckle. “It’s always a nice night for a drink,” he retorts back. “It’s what you drink and who’s with you that matters,” he continued as he walks over and takes a seat. It was another quiet weekend, far from the usual ones he had weeks before. Yet somehow, this felt quite different. Maybe a bit uneasy.

“What’s on your mind?” The voice asked. He took a sip, looked up at the starry sky, his eyes wandering the vastness of the flickering dots. He took another sip then bowed his head down.

“What, you don’t know or you don’t want to tell me?” The voice prodded.

“I don’t know… a lot… some of this, some of that,” he replied, struggling. He then continued, “like it’s either I’m heading towards a crossroad, or maybe I’m already there and can’t figure out which path to take.”

There was a pause, and all he heard next was, “huh.”

“Like you know any better, right?” He snapped as he took another sip. “You obviously can’t comprehend what I’m dealing with,” he continued with a sigh.

“Oh, I know alright. It may not look like much, but believe me, whatever you’re going through right now is not as bad as what I had.”

“Really. How so?” He asked.

“Listen, the worst thing you can do is get all stressed and riled up about things that haven’t happened yet. I know it’s in your nature to look ahead, and that’s fine. What isn’t is your constant back-and-forth over the same outcomes despite having different approaches. I’m telling you, that’s getting old and boring.”

He stood up in frustration as he quickly downs another shot. “Maybe replaying those situations in my head can help me prepare or understand what happens when I get there. Can’t you see that?,” he fires back.

“Dude, at what point does that become thinking too much and losing sense of reality and what’s happening in the here and now? That’s called thinking too much.”

He sits back down and slouches in a defeated-like manner. “I’ve done all I can, man,” he sighs. “I looked back at all the places I’ve been and learned all that I can so I make sure that I don’t end up right back there. It all seems like I’m going in circles and I’m headed back to that point and it will all be the same.”

“Hey,” came the quick reply. “Let me tell you something about what I’ve gone through. I’m guessing I’ve made quite the same mistakes a normal guy makes in life. But what I’ve learned is, you only have 50% control of your life. The other 50, are or will be the effects of how you manage your half. And that, you cannot control. It goes right back to zero the moment you get to where you steered yourself into. Or in other words, when what happens, happens. You’re an experienced guy. You’ve gone up and down the road a few times and seen a fair share of triumph and loss. Control what you can control, and let fate decide afterwards.”

He sniffed as a tear ran down his cheek. The silence was deafening after what was said. He tried to make light of the somewhat tense moment by saying, “nah, it’s more losses than triumphs,” and lets out a nervous chuckle.

“I know, I know…” came the reassuring response. And added, “but who’s counting?” They both laughed.

“But there’s one where I don’t like going back to,” he said, turning into a more serious tone as he finishes the bottle. “I’m quite lucky I haven’t returned there as much as I did. That place completely changes me to the point that people will notice it…” he trails off, staring at the tree as the breeze picks up. “And it’s something I completely don’t like,” he says as he finishes.

“Sometimes, we do go there. More often than not, we are pushed there against our will. But like I said, it’s the other 50%. Just make the most out of what you can control, alright?”

He nodded in agreement. He was about to take another sip when he realized that his bottle was empty. He stood up and headed to go inside to get another one. He was almost at the door when he was told, “but dude, seriously, you gotta tell her. I think it’s time.”

He stopped and bowed his head. He thought about her; the first time she managed to cross his mind the entire day. He suddenly felt how much he missed her, and it’s been a while since he last saw her. Their time together went like a quick flashback in his thoughts, and managed to pry a smile out of him. “Yeah, but no,” he said as the flashback ended. “I can’t. I want to, but I can’t. It’s not right. Not yet. And I don’t know when, or if it will ever be. Besides, she doesn’t even–“

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” came the interruption. “See, that makes you the guy or that guy. You often sacrifice what could give you happiness and continue to put their’s first,” added the reply.

“Story of my life, right?,” he asked sheepishly. “I’ve been hurt too much long enough and often. Another place I don’t wanna go back.”

“So, you try to steer yourself out of that; yet still care from the outside looking in. I feel you. Not that I agree, but I feel you. Those are some damn high walls you put up there, dude.”

“I have to. It’s the only way…,” was all he can say back.

“You know what can match those walls toe-to-toe? Time,” came the reply. “You can continue to build those walls, but time is the greatest equalizer. But, you’re a good guy. Fate will smile upon you again someday and you’ll get to where you want to go. But until then, go be a good guy to me and get me a drink, will ‘ya?”

He looked at the bottle in his hand. “Listen, I have this, or something by the glass, which one do you want?,” he asked.

He turned around to get an answer, but all he saw was an empty porch.

Hello, old friend

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Some say that in revisiting an old hobby, you’d never know what to expect. It could be scary, especially if you haven’t done it for quite a while and you’re afraid to mess it up or not follow through; it could be therapeutic, if you’re undergoing a lot of stress lately. It could also be overwhelming, if you’re trying too much or too hard; or it could be a re-discovery of yourself when you think or realize you don’t know where you’re headed.

When I was a kid, I loved reading. From the 15 volumes of “Charlie Brown’s ‘Cyclopedia” and the entire 1988 edition of World Book Encyclopedia, to Norton Juster’s “The Phantom Tollbooth” and the “Choose Your Own Adventure” series, reading fueled my imagination. which is as vivid today as it was back then. But as I grew older, reading stories told by other people started to lose its luster. The excitement is still there; but for some reason, reading for me had become more of a way to pass the time idly. I still do read from time to time, but not as much as way back then. I tried to revive reading some years ago. I got the first four books of “Game of Thrones” but never got halfway through the first one. Same with Roland Lazenby’s “Michael Jordan: The Life” (which was actually a gift). It just wasn’t the same.

As I slowly started to lose interest in reading, I tried to find something else to fill the void. By then, I was in college but had no idea where to start. I was always shy around other people during my growing up years (and sometimes, even up until now). I remember one time during an English class when I was called to recite about how we spent our semestral break, I couldn’t get a single word out. I mean, I knew what to say, I just couldn’t put together the words. We were then told to write it down, and I was able to fill an entire sheet of yellow pad paper in minutes. Since then, in answering questions on tests and exams that require an essay, I would almost always lack space in writing them; not to mention running out of time. I then initially thought that I found something I may be good at: writing a paper based on research and explaining material we were asked to read. And that slowly became something I was looking forward to.

I never thought of doing creative writing… until I fell in love. I started writing poems. Of course they were disgustingly cheesy since I was exploring putting unabashed, flying-on-cloud-nine emotions into a literary piece that was trying to make her heart flutter. Yet ironically, what kicked my creative writing into overdrive was when I got my heart broken for the first time, I wrote poem after poem about how I loved her, and the misery I felt in losing her. Some of my friends were able to read those, and the feedback I got was surprisingly positive. They never thought I was capable of poetry. So I continued to write and write. Some of those are immortalized on this blog, you just have to dig deep and find them. But there are those that may have been entirely lost since I wasn’t able to keep a copy of them, especially the first few ones (ugh, damn it).

As I started my professional career, my poetry-writing started to decline. Although I’d still write here and there, I then thought, “what’s next?” The idea of having a journal wasn’t really that appealing to me since at that time, it was an unwritten rule or requirement that you have to write something on a daily basis if you do decide to have one (plus the fact that having a physical journal at home containing your unguarded feelings is not entirely safe from your parents). The internet age was just starting at that time, and little did I know what that had in store for me. It was around early 2004 when the notion of having an online journal hit me. I didn’t know much about going online (okay, except for Friendster), but having a personal computer at home suddenly made me realize that I can digitally save whatever I write since the folks don’t know much about accessing files on a computer. So I started to write based on what I felt at that time. I almost always had no drafts, nor made edits along the way or before I published them; I wrote about topics and subjects free flowingly as they came to mind. I also wrote poems, trying to see if I still can do so. Again, some of them–if not most–are published here.

Since then, I’ve had several incarnations of my blog. Twitter and Facebook introduced me to micro-blogging which then became more effective for me, so I found myself slowly ditching the long-form of blogging. I became so active in Facebook posting whatever comes to mind. From politics, to what I was doing at that moment; to interview (horror) stories and current events. I “quit” Facebook in 2016 after another heartbreak, and, looking back at it now, I’m thankful I did. What started as a social media break eventually turned to a sabbatical, in which stepping away made me see how the world has changed dramatically since that year. And though I had several dances and skirmishes with so-called affairs of the heart since then, it never really rekindled my passion for writing. The few entries I’ve had over the last five years are testament to an attempt to reignite that old passion I had. Some of them are really bad, but I prefer not to delete them just to make me see where I was during those times. I have no regrets posting them (nor have any regrets about anything in my life), since they still came from deep inside. And for me, that’s the most important thing in expressing yourself. Being brutally honest, if need be.

So here I am again. Full circle. Again. I’ve said on previous entries that I’d be posting more often, but end up not doing so. I won’t make that same promise; but the one thing I can do is, whenever I can, to post from the heart… or whatever you call this thing that’s pumping blood through my veins. All I know is that I’m currently going through something. And writing about it may be a form of therapy. When you’re caught in between something you know and something you feel and they are on the opposite sides of the spectrum, but they’re both right, you have one big clusterfuck on your hands. Or maybe it’s just me being a Gemini: having that little angel and devil on my shoulder constantly arguing about who and what’s right. At least I’m writing about it. Or at least some semblance of it. For now, this would have to do.

And as I down my final shot of whisky in concluding this journal entry, I raise this toast that I heard being said somewhere before: “to unspoken words of affection that continue to keep you anchored down, may they one day be set free to discover the possibilities of happiness, or forever be chained in the name of keeping the peace.” Whatever that means.

Good to see you, old friend. Let’s try to make this a regular thing, shall we? Starting with this one.

Happy Easter, everyone.

a whimpering and sputtering finish… with a glimmer of hope

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It’s ironic that my entry before this was all about faith, or my leap from it. And just a few weeks after posting that entry, the entire world was plunged into a tailspin unseen or unheard of, that even faith couldn’t make a dent on an invisible enemy. And as we celebrate this year’s holiday season, taking stock of what we still have now means more than ever before… maybe in our entire lives.

Who would’ve thought that a virus would literally shut down the world and our modern way of life? I mean, we’ve had outbreaks before; from SARS to Avian Flu, Mad Cow disease to Ebola. Yet mankind has managed to render them under control. It makes one wonder: does progress always have inherent consequences? Is this mother nature’s way of fighting back man’s continued disdain and wanton abuse of Earth’s natural resources?

That may be the bigger picture. But this pandemic touched every single one of us. It forced us to throw out the current life playbook we have and made us stand still… literally and figuratively. And with that, jobs were lost, livelihoods were halted, families were torn apart, sanities went haywire, wheels stopped turning, and every healthcare system in the world was stretched to breaking points again and again.

But amidst all that, adversity breeds resourcefulness and most importantly, resilience. And as the world slowly starts to receive the first doses of the Covid19 vaccine, we end 2020 with a small sliver of light coming from 2021 which all of us are fervently hoping is the year we start to recover. It’s by no means a sure thing that we’ll go back to how things were before all this went down, but it’s better to be up on one knee than our faces planted flat on the ground.

Just like everyone else, this year has tested me in ways I couldn’t have imagined. Physically, emotionally, psychologically, and emotionally. Yet I’m extremely thankful for a select few people outside my family for helping me keep things in perspective, for being an inspiration, and providing a relief from the doldrums of living alone. I’ll be forever grateful for them being in my life during this time.

If you’re asking where my faith has been throughout all of this, well, it’s right where it should be. Refer to my previous entry if you’re still confused. In any case, I’m as grateful and thankful as can be for surviving this year. I probably couldn’t have made it without certain people in my life, so they’re a huge part of my 2020 chapter. And as I turn the next pages in 2021, I’ll continue to stand by them as they stood by me. No matter what happens.

This year’s Christmas may be the most different, difficult, and subdued one we’ll ever have. But nonetheless, it’s always good to take stock of what we still have, what we’ve accomplished, and look forward to what’s in store; no matter how the pandemic affected us.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

A leap from faith

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Faith.

It’s probably the most used word in every dire situation any individual comes face to face with.

Along with the two other words, “hope” and “love,” they form probably the most rock-solid trio ever that transcends time and history.

And it’s probably been always associated by religious folk by “keeping” it, and how it can “move mountains.”

To me, faith was all of those. Keyword: “was.”

I recently realized that faith and expectations go hand-in-hand. Okay, maybe not recently; but it was a product of years of personal struggle, challenges, and failures that built up over time that when I look back at those, I slowly began to see the connection.

I was born and raised a Catholic by strictly Catholic parents. I was taught every facet of it and how to center my life around it. I was often told, “if you want something, pray for it.” And I would. Some of those I wanted to have would be given, and some would not. At best, I could recall a 60-40 split of what I wanted that was given compared to what wasn’t. That was during my formative years.

For those who have known me my whole life (or at least majority of the last 20 to 25 years), I’ve always been the “good guy.” Doesn’t get into trouble much, always tried to help out others, always tried to do what is or was right, and kept getting back up after a setback and being positive. A lot of credit of that goes to how I was raised. And to be honest, that’s a good foundation and I wouldn’t have preferred it any other way. Which is also why it made me realize how massively different what I think, know, believe, and see things today and moving forward compared to how I was during all those years.

The last five years–seven if I choose to go all the way back to 2013–have been what I prefer to call as the defining years of my adulthood. It was during those years that I experienced the most of everything. From the highest of highs, to the lowest of lows; with the latter more prevalent. Little did I know that every single thing that happened during that time was part of a slow build-up of the perspective and outlook in life I come to have now. For those of you who religiously follow my blog and what I post on social media, everything is there. But I digress: what’s the connection of all these with faith?

Well, there’s now not a whole lot of faith left in me, if not completely gone.

That’s the honest, most real self-realization I had that started as an after-thought about four years ago, and that was firmly cemented yesterday during my solo road trip. I still have that respect that faith is something other people can, will, and may have. But, it’s not that way personally for me. Not anymore. I choose to free myself from what I think is holding me down and rid myself of experiencing pain from being dependent on something; and look ahead to seeing and understanding that whatever I decide on any of the choices that are laid before me, things will still happen as they are meant to be. And the choices I make are either borne out of necessity, or with much thought. Having this new personal perspective actually feels good. Yet I’m not one to promote this because of my belief that everyone has a choice. And I don’t like shoving my thoughts down people’s throats. As they say, you do you, and I’ll do me.

Does this mean I’ll stop being the good guy? No, not at all. I still firmly believe in good and bad, but it all boils down to personal choice. I’m still going to have that positivity in me, but I’m going to keep that to myself and to only a select few, so don’t expect me to share quotes like I did back in the day in Facebook (that is, when I decide to eventually go back to being active there). When I looked back at the quotes I shared over the years (especially the ones about love and… other stuff), I actually cringed and felt really, utterly sorry and ashamed for myself. Yet I won’t delete them simply because it’s a reminder of how those times were for me, and how that lead to where and who am I now. And I will not refute or contradict people and friends who continue to share their quotes, inspirations, on social media. That’s their choice and I respect that. What I probably may do share are realistic sayings that don’t have anything to do with whatever religion or a school of thought that will make one “hope for a better tomorrow.” Because that’s just it. You hope and depend and expect for things to be better, but you’re actually the one who has to make that happen. Not leaving it to faith. You want something better? Then do something about it or live with the consequences if you choose not to. And the choices one makes are only good for the given situation. The effects of those doesn’t necessarily accumulate into something else. Different scenario, different choices, different outcomes.

Am I still a Catholic after this? Yes. Out of respect for the way I was raised and my parents who did, I will remain one until the day I die. And out of that same respect, I will continue to honor whatever tradition was instilled in me. In fact, in yesterday’s road trip, I lit and offered candles for my friends who are going through some tough times with their families or personal lives, and for the people I love. Yet I didn’t feel any upliftment for myself. All because I know that when I pray for others, it always works. For myself, nothing happens; not in the close to seven years I’ve dealt with different problems and challenges that I prayed for deliverance, but never came. I’ve learned to accept that, and promised myself that what I do will be made out of my own choices. No more relying and being tied down to a certain dependency that will never bear fruit. I’ll live with the consequences, or relish in something attained. Besides, He has bigger problems to worry about than granting what I want or need.

Who knows, maybe this leap from faith is what I really need.

The girl who broke me (a.k.a. the greatest love I never got to have)

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I never thought I would be writing this. Some people would probably say I shouldn’t. More importantly, I never, ever thought I would reach this point. But I believe it’s necessary for me to get it out of my system to have a sense of “closure” (it’s probably the closest word I’d like to associate with it) so I can finally have that transition in spite of everything else I’ve been dealing with. So as early as now, let me say this: I don’t give a fuck what or how negatively you may think of this entry. This one will be far different from the usual stuff I’ve written, yet I am still covered by freedom of speech. Please carry that thought if you wish to proceed with reading this entry. If not, you can always close the tab or browser. With that being out of the way, let me begin.

If I were to look at myself from five years ago at the most up to probably two years at the latest, I wouldn’t recognize the person staring back at me. Back then, I was a cheesy, poem-writing, love-induced, wear-my-heart-on-my-sleeve hopeless romantic who would readily move heaven and earth just to do anything for the one girl who captured and enslaved my heart and soul. Yet despite being turned down, kicked to the curb, and repeatedly used only to be taken for granted time and again over the course of almost five years, I continued to pine and believe in what fate will bring… if I continued to fight the good fight, thinking positive and always hoping that the universe would eventually smile down on me for the efforts I’ve made. Only to reach this point.

I have written several entries about her on previous occasions; more than any other subject on my blog. But this will be–with finality and without the usual romantic cheesiness–the very last one. It’s unfortunate that a person’s repeated actions (and lack thereof at the same time) would slowly chip away at the emotional side of me. No matter how numerous kinds of conversations and arguments we’ve had about equal treatment (as “friends” according to her), nothing ever changed. And slowly, that wake-the-fuck-up realization started to manifest about who I really am to her: a go-to guy who she can just discard when my usefulness has worn out. I won’t bore you with all the details here (though you can always ask me in person and I’ll gladly tell ALL that went down), but as that moment started to grow, I decided to drastically lessen my communication with her. Not just the replies to messages, but the manner in which I replied back.

Elaborate or normal replies became one-word messages. Immediacy turned to four, five, sometimes 12 hours or more before I would send one back. “Seen-zoned” (on my part) sometimes became the norm in our chats (if you could still call it that). For sure she would’ve noticed it, but never brought it up. I suppose the final act that broke the camel’s back happened four weeks ago. But as I looked back at our chat history, the more I did that, I suppose the more it hardened me. Not just to her, but to everything else that is relationship-related at the same time. This is the girl who I yearned for and promised to love no matter what happens. This is the girl I gave everything to. And I do mean EVERYTHING. One close friend of mine can attest to that. Heck, not even having a five-month serious relationship with another woman stopped me from completely forgetting about her. And from the looks of it, because of the huge scar she left on me, I won’t be able to. Come to think of it, I suppose it’s better that way so it’ll be a constant reminder for me not to fall for anyone else again.

Romantic lines don’t elicit that warm feeling in me anymore. Love songs don’t sound the same way anymore whenever I listen to them (and I still do; I mean, a good ballad is always worth listening to). And romantic movies past, present, and future are not as inviting to watch anymore. I’ve even unfollowed users in Twitter and Instagram that post quotes (romantic or even inspirational ones) because it became useless feed on my timeline (I’m still on Facebook hiatus though, but will be back soon; when I feel and know that the time is right). You’re probably thinking that I should do those just to focus on myself and heal up until such time I can be ready to love again. And you’re right… only on the first half of that sentence. I’d rather just focus on myself and my closest of friends. No healing up, and definitely no need for cupid to come flying back in my general area (at this time I’d want to give everyone a gentle reminder: please refer to the third sentence of my opening paragraph). The last two of this five-year endeavor even had my belief in religion put into question. But that’s a different story for a different time.

A few weeks ago, I started watching “How I Met Your Mother” after the entire series became available on Netflix. For some reason, I never saw the series during its original run; and I have always been told good things about it. Now truth be told, if I had followed the series back then, I would definitely relate with Ted’s character. Oh man, hands down I would. I’d even be eagerly anticipating what comes next between him and Robin. But since I started with the very first episode, I actually saw Ted as a whining loser who oftentimes can’t get his shit together. Even with what he feels for Robin (I now actually have a crush on Cobie Smulders, but not her character). I would still see the series through until the very last episode; only because I am amazed by Barney’s character. I see him as the more realistic person among the group despite his shenanigans (Marshall and Lily to me are a conventional couple). What I’m really looking forward to are the two remaining slaps Marshall has to give him. Now that’s a glaring difference between me back then, and how I am right now which I never thought I’d be able to come to terms with.

Regardless of whether she personally reads this or not, though I am not that proud to say it, but thank you for breaking me. Thank you for finally silencing my emotional throes permanently. Thank you for removing the romantic in me. You have set the bar so high that no other woman can ever reach. Thank you for living the kind of life I help provide you for, and in the process, leaving me empty. Thank you for your words that added up to a staggering amount of… nothing. Thank you for all of your empty actions that gave birth to an “improved” version of myself: cynical, oblivious, and just settling for what’s barely good enough. Things I never thought I’d turn into. By somehow finally treating you the last few months in the way I did, it’s a fruition from a long and obvious realization of how I really am to you: a “friend” who you’d want at your beck and call to provide your material needs. And nothing in the world can make you see otherwise, or to make you see how pure and sincere my intentions for you were, or how I risked and did everything just to make you feel good about yourself. So go and flirt, take advantage, and ride all the guys you can take. You can get any guy you want at any time because hey, you have your “needs” after all, right? They’d be putty in your hands. Believe me, I know all about your “needs;” more than you think I do. You have done anything and everything you can–and I do mean anything AND everything–to get to where you are now, so you deserve whatever things that are coming your way. I sincerely mean that in the most positive way. Who knows, maybe someday you can be able to literally fuck me too by sheer happenstance. And that may probably, probably somehow be enough for you to give back or make up for everything I’ve done for you. Maybe. Maybe not. I guess we’ll never know. I could continue to go on saying what’s on my mind, but knowing you, you’re not even close to being prepared to hear everything else I have to say. And I think you won’t ever be. This will be the very last time I would talk about you or make you the subject of my blog entries. So again, I say thank you. Pat yourself on the back or give yourself a round of applause. You must be extremely proud.

With that having finally gotten out of my system, this is now me. Broken, yet somehow reborn. Surviving, yet scarred. The person who now settles instead of having hopes. Remnants or fragments of my old self may appear in the way I talk from time to time, but only for conversational purposes. Yet the only thing that I carry from the old me is that I keep my word. Whatever statements and promises I made before, I will stand by them no matter what. I will be redesigning my blog in a few days to reflect the changes in me. It’ll be a reboot of some sorts. I again invoke the disclaimer at the beginning of this entry for those not keeping tabs. All entries moving forward will now be more on social, political, or anything else except having to do with emotions or romantic relationships. I’ve dealt with that in the equivalent of two lifetimes already. So I think it’s now the perfect time to permanently step away from it.

Markie’s Journal version 5.0. Soon.