Life

Life, this word, life, too short to type, too big to comprehend and too unpredictable for how long it stays. Hundreds or thousands have tried to define it, or paint a picture of it for themselves to understand and for others to have an understanding of, however we're missing out on the whole point of it. It is not to be defined, nor to be understood, it is to be lived because it simply happens and it will keep on transpiring while you're on your midst of trying to understand and figuring it out.

What am I saying then? To be honest, I really don't know. I'm not even trying to make a point, or maybe in a way, yes. The whole point of writing this is just for writing this. This thought currently bugging my every neuron is fleeting, yes this will soon be gone and if I delay this, this, this whole thing will be another thought lost in memory. 

We sometimes don't need valid reasons to do a certain thing, we do it because the timing calls for it, and impulsive as it may be called, we know that we did exactly how we felt at that moment, and that moment when we don not know what we're doing that, that is what goes down our memory. 

Yes, doing things in defiance and without precautions, when we put ourselves into the test, when we do not know what's gonna happen next but are sure that we will bravely face it as the price of our stupidity, that's when we have truly lived.

I always tell people I'm a boring person.

I really find it flattering when people say I'm fun to be with. It's the kind of compliment that I still haven;t fully believed in. When fun equates to being stubborn and reckless then, it figures, but I'm not really an outlandish to be doing crazy things all the time. It's always been my wish to be an interesting person, interesting in a way that you've done extraordinary things, or accomplished something really nice. But it's not like that, I'm not like that, really.

I would rather sit and talk and just stare into space or observe people, maybe intermittent silences to let your mind wander or your thoughts explore. I like listening to people, listening to their dreams, to their plans, to the things that they share even though most of the time I expect to receive the favor of being listened to, I talk a lot, incessantly if I like the person I'm talking to and the subject we are talking about. I like learning, that's the rewarding part of having conversations and listening to other people. When I learn something new, I let it sit in my mind, maybe give it a try sometimes or just keep it in my memory, I might need it one day.

There are different kinds of conversations from different kinds of people and from the kind of relationship you have with them. There are those people you talk about nonsensical and funny stuff, things that sometimes mock and make fun of other people or situations. These people you can be really creative and experimental with your imaginations with. They will forgive you for being stupid or laugh at it. There are also those people you talk about serious matters, not necessarily philosophical views in life nor politics, well maybe polotics at times. These people you have high respect and trust for are the people you share your views in life with. You create conversations you can learn from and exchange learnings with one another. There are also people you talk with because you think it's polite not to ignore them. There are also those you can never talk about anything with. Others just want you to listen to them. And there are also people you can talk with about anything, without fearing of being judged, they just let you be, listen to you, and you listen to them in return, you learn from them and they learn from you, there will occasional laughs, or serious tones, and sometimes you can cry to them, but still feel okay crying because you know they'll understand.

Sometimes the person you talk with about the same things you enjoy, the person you can easily relate to, the person who shares common interests with you, the person who makes you think that he or she is the one for you, you know you sometimes get the feeling that you two might be perfect for each other because you two are so alike, sometimes it could be wrong. I learned that if two people share too many things in common and like too many the same things, the conversations will eventually get boring and will be repeated many times in the future. There's nothing else more to share with them because you two know each other too much, which makes one of you too comfortable and too secured that you stop discovering things and surprising each other. I'm not sure, it's just one of my stupid theories. :)

If only my thoughts could be directly encrypted in this blog before they start to disintegrate into fragmented and incoherent thoughts that disappoint me especially when I cannot pick up the pieces and put them together to recall the whole thought. 

It's really impossible to be able to keep track of every event that happened within a week or even just within a day, but pieces of it will stay vivid in our minds, and not all the time these things are nice, perfect or magical, sometimes these memories that cling on to us hurt us or made us feel differently, scared and unsafe at one point. 

My heart was pounding and racing, trying to blink back my tears. My chest was twisted, breathing constricted and I started to pace faster. Everything was in a blur. Only one thing was clear, I was waiting that he'd make the first move or at least show sign that he's gonna fix it.

We both pounded as we part our ways, maddened by some vague argument, we both walked out only with pride in our hearts. I blame him, and he blames me for refusing to grant him forgiveness which was at that time should be made available for the taking, but I pride stopped me from giving it away easily. So there we were both mad and both waiting, waiting for whoever choked on his or her pride and make the move.

I stood as still as the shelves in the bookstore, unregistering every word I read. Startled by the hand that wrapped around my waist, I blinked back my tears and feigned a straight face. I avoided his eyes, I stopped the words to escape my mouth because I was sure my voice would crack and my tears will stream down my face, giving away how I really felt. 

We sat on the floor like kids, ignoring people, it was like a scene taken straight out of a cheesy flick. I started to fix the books, arranged them by titles, piled them and straightened them, right then and there I knew I was anxious and very depressed. People started to go to that part where we were, and tears that were welling in my eyes started to fall, so I bent my head down to conceal my crying face. 

He took me up, and freed my hand from every book I fiddled on. I couldn't look at him, I was mad at him, really mad, mad and disappointed for being a coward, for being unreasonable again. He wiped tears off of my face and tried to lock our fingers. He held my hand, I held his. 

We walked, silently. The grounds were wet, we were now outside about to go home when he directed me to take a seat on the vacant chairs. We sat there, quietly for a while. I looked at the grounds, the lights reflecting on the puddles, it's Christmas in a few weeks, and the wind is colder than the usual especially that it just rained. His voice was faint, saying sorry while I tried not to listen, tried not to give in. In low and almost inaudible voice, I heard a familiar tune hummed with gibberish words. It was Use Somebody,   a song by Kings of Leon, a band whose documentary he just watched, I downloaded it for him.

The deal, he did as what we agreed on, a song for every time I cry. It was a stupid deal I made him agree on, I just wanted to hear him sing, even if it takes me to cry, and it worked. I cried. Then I laughed, I laughed at his stupid face, he doesn't look stupid, not at all, he was sincere, but I still laughed because the deal actually worked. But it was not just about the deal, it was more of the assurance that he showed me, assurance that he's gonna do anything to bring things to normal and to make sure that everything is okay even if he'd need to murder a song.

We sat quietly for a while and talked some more. I like the rain, I like the feeling of sadness it brings, that sadness that is now replaced with company, contentment and happiness brought about by his presence.

I know there will be more songs to be murdered, more cliches to be recycled and more sleazy imitations of movie scenes, but I'm sure that we have a beautiful plot.

A New Start, Again

We all get fresh starts from some endings, and it's always up to us how to use this chance, this new beginning. I do sound redundant, but just let me be, I know I am. See? Okay, so fresh start, there we begin from words "new", "start", "beginning", "fresh"... all these words sound promising, because they really are. It's like you're handed with a clean sheet of paper, and you are about to make a new masterpiece, but then you start to be apprehended, to feel scared, afraid to taint that clean sheet with a possible err in a masterpiece, something that will affect the finish product. Okay, so it may not be visible to whoever sees your finish product, because artists have their way of concealing mistakes in their works, and that we never get to notice them, but only themselves know about it. They know that there was a mistake somewhere. Let's not talk a bout mistakes, let's try not to, it will only make things hard to begin with. So this is what I'm talking about...

Second sem's gonna start in a few hours, and as the usual, the previous one isn't worth bragging about. The usual slacking off, absences, mediocrity, complacency seasoned my previous semester, giving it a bland taste of success. I've been an underachiever ever since I started my college, not a good start, and it's followed by a streak of failures and disappointments, a couple of distractions from here and there, these things did not bring me back on the right track. And still, I'm offtrack, but that doesn't mean that I will always lose the direction. So the break I had, spent it over thinking, overanalyzing, overreacting, and overestimating things, used up all of my energy sulking, moping and complaining a LOT. It's time I shed off the negativity in me. Here I am again, challenging myself to a better semester. It's time to make good and impressive grades.

Relationships, this part is tricky here and a bit difficult to get into the details. Venturing into the unknown version of relationship, maybe not unknown, just the untouched aspect of the different faces of relationships because I've admittedly failed and faired badly at it, getting a head-on confrontation on "love",  this one deserves a good start. Not that it hadn't started yet, but giving it a fresh start everyday will keep things different and promising all the time. (See, I'm not really good at it, I don't know if I'm even making any sense)

Blogging or writing has given me catharsis, but as I've browsed through my blog entries and journal entries which I keep to myself because I can get severely cheesy at times, I've noticed how much of a downer I have been lately. Most of the entries were very depressing, sounded lost and sad, spiteful and regretful. To think that I've been like that for a long time now, I feel like I've wasted so much of the precious time, opportunities and energy by allowing myself to be possessed by so much negativity in me. What happened to the "inspiring" and "positive" person I want to be? Well, she took a break and relished in the sadness of life, but now I'm starting to get rid of those destructive emotions. Not that I'm totally blocking those emotions, but to start feeling these emotions in moderation when necessary. It's not that bad to feel sad at times, I always believe that in sadness, we can appreciate the value of happiness. So I'm harboring all the positive energies to write about positive and constructive posts, to keep that fervor of inspiring people.

Chances are unlimited, just as the possibilities, people may give you only a few of it or even try to suppress you from having it, but life won't. Life is an endless cycle of mistakes and lessons learned, and in every failure, in every downfall comes a new beginning, a better one if you will it to be.

So for our final term, we were asked to make a music video for an OPM song. This song earned me the exemption from the final exam.

Extra special thank you to Chelcie Olmedo for doing me the huge favor, for being my director and cinematographer. :))

This took us 2 hours to finish. It still gives me the anxiousness and awkwardness whenever I watch this. :/

The Routine

Finding ourselves always complaining about what's happening with our life can get routinely. Yes, routinely, like it is has integrated itself, voluntarily into our daily routine. For me, it has. For the past few days, almost a week now, I found myself always complaining and ranting and whining, habits I've perfected overtime. It is normal, since I've always been doing this since the time I began to expect more from life and sadly not doing much on my part to make it happen. That's the problem with most of us, we always complain that our lives aren't as great or as exciting as that of other people, and we even blame them or curse them for the good fortune that they enjoy. That's bitterness eating up our better selves. It destroys our perspective towards life, it even taints our relationship with people, our perception. Bitterness that lurks within us scrambles our thoughts and fuels our envy, when we see other people doing good with their lives, we sulk in one corner and condemn the world for being so unfair to us. We start to create these notions on why and how they become so lucky and become skeptical of how they made it that way. We would think unjustly of them, we would focus on their negative sides, feed on their issues like it is our daily  necessity for living, we wait for their downfall and even take joy in it. That kind of life is bound to end in sadness, despair and discontentment. When we live our lives to compete with others, to always do better than they can, to always put ourselves higher than them, when we seek for other people's approval and praises, that is a life that will soon exhaust you and wear you down, and by the end of the day, you'll find yourself unhappy and unfulfilled. Yes, you may have given your best, but all your efforts weren't tailored for your improvement, rather you have paved your way towards degradation.

The thing about this routine is, you can put an end to it. Yes, it is fixable and you can be rescued from it before you get trapped into it eternally. Save yourself, because only you can do that help to yourself. People will keep telling you what you should do to nurse this kind of problem, they will give you pieces of advice and solutions, but it is only you who can give the proper medication to this problem. The answer can be found within yourself. No amount of advices can fix this, because though you hear them you will never listen to them and worse, you will never apply them. You will perceive them as babbles and you will only doubt the intentions of people who are trying to help you because you already have developed this skeptic who inhabits your judgment. When you decide to stop moping around and blaming other people or even the world for your mishaps, it is then that you'll find the light, the answers and of course the solution to your problems. You will then have that clear vision of where you are and where you want to be, a picture of your best self. 

It begins now. The remedy is within your reach, the routine is bound to end, start it now.

When you crack, hold yourself together and try not to break.

The Perfect Life

We all have that picture of a perfect and happy life. 

When we were little, that picture seems so easy to achieve, just as how easy it is captured by our imagination. Maybe when we were little it was easier for us to believe that good things happen without having too much effort to exert, or it just happens naturally, because when we were young, our minds were innocent and untainted by the pains that life will eventually send in our way. We used to see life through rainbow colored glass, everything is possible, everything is just beautiful and everything is just perfect. 

Then life happens. As we grow older, we start to realize that it's not that easy at all, the spectrum of colors, the rainbow colored glass we used to see life through starts to lose its colors one by one, and the optimism is gutted by doubts and fears, then we eventually have a pragmatic and real version of life, that it's all black and white. Yes, life is black and white, just two options, two colors that will define the next things that will happen. 

The very moment we begin our struggle to make life perfect comes the reality that it is not easy, it's a constant and endless plight to do things in order, in accordance to what's acceptable, in complement to what's expected. Choices are to be made with only the good in mind, that anything that contradicts the norm is not good, actions should not hurt people, they should, as much as possible , be done with the best intentions only, then we become a shoddy version of people who have lead a bland kind of life. People who have thrown away their dreams, the dreams they used to have as kids, who have buried their passion deep down the demands of other people, who have grown to become complacent individuals rather than the unique ones. Then life starts to become black and white. Dull. Lifeless. Wasted.

That's the price of striving for a "perfect" life. The truth is, life is not perfect, too cliched as it may sound, but that's the truth, it may sting and it may have set your hopes to a perfect life crumble to pieces, but that's it, we have to suck it up and accept that fact. We will never get what we want, nor end to where we always want to be, we cant be with people whose arms we yearn for, and we can't always be who we want ourselves to be, not as perfect as we've imagined it. Then it will dawn on you that the struggle to that perfect end, to that perfect life gave you perfect moments, short, fleeting, but perfect and mind you, many of them. Those moments that passed by, those that we only had a grasp for awhile, those that we never expected, put them altogether, and you'll see a perfect picture of life, and that it is imperfect, but definitely beautiful.