Not all that glitters is... well... glitter.

In every person's life, there are moments when things just start swirling in your head. Ironies, introspections and dark humor just pops out of nowhere and just swims in circles like fudge on melted ice cream (yum!)

Have you ever been in a virtual relationship? No, not like those perverted online things where you both pretend to be in a relationship that cannot be bound by normal rules of dating (read: actually seeing the person and spending time with them). I mean like, you're sort of in a relationship limbo. Like you like/love each other but both of you never really took the time to put a label in it? Whether intentional or not, you just didn't want the strings. 

But then it feels and sort of works like an actual relationship - complete with all the laughs, the thrills, the sad parts and the occasional (or one) steamy night. It's got all the elements of a good, happy relationship - the sweet nothings, the googly eyes, the sharing of each other's problems. You get your good times and your bad times. You make each other laugh as much as you tore each other apart. You get the picture.

Now the odd thing is much as it feels like a relationship, you wake up one morning and smell the coffee. This isn't real. Who am I kidding here? Yes I'm happy, yes I feel kind of special - but is all this REAL? We both know this is so wrong in so many levels. This is the kind of thing that makes self-help books so prolific. 

You realized it's all just not real. It must have been all in your head. But then, you start asking - if this isn't real, how come the heartbreak feels like the real thing? Why doesn't the hurt feel fake? Why do the tears fall like it does in real life? Why did I hear my heart actually crack?

Lots of ways of looking at it. It's all just glitter anyway.

Defying Bridget's Law

03.03.2010 - White shirt, jeans, sneakers and a newsboy cap.

Every mentor's motto is, "Push yourself to the limit." That works, if you're actually a good mentor. You know how Obi-Wan was to Anakin, or Dumbledore was to Harry. How the great master of things saw something in their young apprentices which through the right tutelage (what a word!) led them to blossom into amazing fountains of awesomeness.

Being in this profession for so long, I feel like, even as I have grown so much, I still got a loooong way to go. Now that wouldn't be a problem if I have a mentor to guide me now. It's one thing to be able to make things from scratch and it's another to actually be taught how to do it. I think the latter would produce better output.

Anyway, what does this have to do with Bridget? The great plump "wanton sex goddess with a very bad man between her thighs" has shared one truth about the world - If your career starts going well, your personal life falls spectacularly into pieces. Well you really can't have it all. Rarely do we find people who are equally successful on both ends. Come on admit it, it's a legend. Nobody lives a perfect life. Nobody's perfect, period.

The richest, most successful tycoon feels lonely and he looks for a girl (or a guy, whatever floats his boat) and tries to shower her/him with material things to compensate for his waning libido. Think of Hefner, he's surrounded by all those bunnies who act like he's THE bomb. Ew. Who are they kidding? The guy couldn't get a boner if his life depended on it. 

Now there's that lovely little housewife with the adoring husband and the cutest kids on the planet. Sure she says she's fulfilled and happy. But we all know that deep inside, she wants to have something she can call her own. She want's power. She wants to wear the pants every once in a while.

Now given that, why don't we try to beat Bridget's Law. Be a failure in your personal life AND be a failure in your job as well? Now THAT is pushing yourself to the limit. Oh my mentor's gonna be so proud of me. 

When The Best Coaches Hit The Benches

I've never been good in any form of sports. I was the weird kid who played alone, imagining all sorts of things. One of the earliest memories I have of my childhood was playing with this mound of sand in front of our then apartment. I was alone. I was happy being alone with my thoughts.

Perhaps one of the oddities of being a kid like me was that all my thoughts were in English. It was so natural to me. I was hooked on Sesame Street. Maybe that was why no one would play with me. Maybe I gave them a look that says, how come you seem to have thoughts so different from mine? At that age I knew I was different and I wasn't meant to conform.

I wouldn't consider myself an introvert. Yes I do like to work independently and yes I do get issues when I work with a group (who, often than not, I end up owning). I'm not the type who would eventually author a self-help book.

I always thought that I don't really need anyone to validate me. Never expected anyone to give me a hand when I obviously needed one. I was happy being ignored. I was happy being who I am. Happy watching people watch in (what I think is) amazement at how I live my life and how it seems so easy for me to dispense advice on what to do for every situation. I always thought I was a natural leader. You know, the one people run to. The one who will point the way. To some extent, I think I played that role quite well. People see me as an opinion leader, someone whose words matter. 

Funny how things change. The guy who didn't need validation feels like giving in to seemingly mundane challenges, pointless heartaches and vague feelings of sadness. I don't know. It just creeps in. It's not like a big yellow bus.

I'm happy I made some people happy. That's one thing I think I do well. I always know what to say, what to do so that I get the reaction I wanted. 

Now in times like this, when the bringer of fire feels extinguished, who to go to? It's not easy feeling alone in a roomful of people. It's not easy feeling deprived when so much has been given already. It's not easy feeling like you've been reduced to something you know you're not - a pathetic, needy guy. 

I'm not baring my soul, because I think there is no soul here to begin with.

I'm not emo. I'm just sad. Generally sad. Sad in general over general things. Sad over silly things. Maybe it's because of every bad thing that happened this week. Maybe it's because of I'm just crazy. 

I guess this is what happens when you didn't get a simple public "thank you" from one person who's not even supposed to have a hold on you. Surprise, coach. Bet you didn't expect that.

Rings and Strings

Image taken from Wikipedia.org. Thanks Wiki!

Marilyn sang about it, Nicole remade it, DiCaprio had a movie about it, and De Beers had an empire made of it. Yes folks, diamonds.

The ever-reliable Wikipedia defines it as 

an allotrope of carbon, where the carbon atoms are arranged in a variation of theface-centered cubic crystal structure called a diamond lattice. Diamond is less stable than graphite, but the conversion rate from diamond to graphite is negligible atambient conditions. Diamond is renowned as a material with superlative physical qualities, most of which originate from the strong covalent bonding between its atoms. In particular, diamond has the highest hardness and thermal conductivity of any bulk material. Those properties determine the major industrial application of diamond in cutting and polishing tools.

Admit it, you went past that elaborate yet accurate definition. To most people diamonds symbolize strength, purity, and unimaginable value. Thus it has become almost a rule that to prove to someone that this is it, I'm in it for the long run, you gotta give the big clear rock. I remember a friend who absolutely (though she did it in so many words) refused to let her boyfriend pop the question because it just HAD to be a diamond ring. I was like, poor guy. So in-love and in a few months, will be so broke. Well he bought one eventually and now they're married.

These kind of stories kinda makes one wonder, why is it that we have to always have to prove how we felt about someone? Has this world been so saturated with lies and deceit that positive fluffy feelings like love is met with doubt and suspicion? I mean think about it. Your never believed your high school crush feels the same way unless it came directly from him/her. You're a girl who had a couple of suitors but you never believed they loved you until they took you out on that cheesy burger joint at the corner of Young and Tacky. You're a guy who finally snagged a date with your dream girl and yet at the back of your mind you say, "She's just being kind. I'll know she really likes me if I get a kiss later".

What is it about love that needs to be proven? You tell someone you love them. Plain and simple. Sometimes you don't even want to be loved in return. You just wanna say it. Make them feel it. You get into a relationship with someone and you've been together for a while and yet it gets to a point that you have to prove that the love is still there. Even the geriatrics renew their vows after half a century of marriage. For what? To prove to the world that hey, we still got it!

After all that I'm still confused. Why do we have to prove that we love someone? Why do we have to prove that love exists? We've all been there.

What's wrong with this picture?

Living in Manila my entire life has granted me with a lot of time to really explore the sights and sounds associated with city living. I've never experienced living in both provinces where my parents came from except for the occasional vacation. Given that, I never really learned how to plant anything, raise any farm animal, milk a cow, climb coconut trees, or even swim well enough to save myself. 

However, being stuck in an urban jungle like Manila has quite a lot of perks. Yes I never climbed trees but I'm very adept at climbing stairs. I can run up a relatively long flight of stairs in one breath. Also, I have a keen sense of direction. I hardly get lost, even if I'm not really that familiar with the place. I use tall buildings, the sun and my charms to find my way. I'm also very adept in cooking instant noodles. Despite it's non-semolina noodles, I can keep everything al dente using songs as my timer. Yes I sing and dance when cooking noodles. Leave me alone.

If there's one very special skill I'm proud of is doing my covert operations. I like taking pictures. But not in that I-wanna-be-in-so-I-bought-a-fancy-camera-even-if-all-I-do-is-point-and-shoot-stupid-subjects-like-myself kinda way. 

I take pictures of fashion victims. You know, people who have no idea their taste in clothes and shoes will make Alexander McQueen stir in his grave. 

I take pictures of odd signs. Be it just grammar or spelling. I take pictures for kicks.

Here's what I mean:

All of these images are mine. If you wanna use it, go ahead. Just have the balls to ask permission or at least credit me. >.>

Pensieve

Finally a new blog!

I've had blogs in the past but sadly I failed to keep them up-to-date till I realized my last post was like more than a year ago LOL.

Hmm... what to do with all this space? I know I'll do my own version of Project 365. For those of you who are (hopefully) intelligent but (sadly) uninformed, Project 365 is like posting one picture you took each day of the current year. Some of my friends got their own Project 360 etc. because well, they missed some of the days of 2010. LOL again.

Anyway I won't post pictures here. I'm not a photography enthusiast. What I'll do is post at least one crazy thought per day. Sounds promising. I'll ask questions no one asks, say things most people would rather keep to themselves, and answer some of the questions which hopefully will not destroy any of the last morsels of dignity I still have left.

So, on with the craziness.

19 February 2010. Light blue polo, jeans and sneakers. We had lunch at Chowking (like we always do every other day). Tried out their new orange chicken. It was good. Well, that is if you like the taste of those sauces for fishballs (manong yung matamis ha). And then it happened. I had a sudden burst of courage. I turned and saw her. I was like, WTF?!? That has got to be the uggliest effing face I've ever seen in my life. She really looked like a hammerhead shark. with the underdeveloped body of a woman. Her eyes are too far apart you could mistake them for ears with lashes. Her upturned mouth and tiny button nose made it even worse.

I said to myself, I should have the courage to ask her where she parked her flying saucer.