Shame Sickness

Contrary to what I may have claimed in the past, it has not been as smooth of a ride as it had previously been.

While I had enjoyed a generally healthy-run thus far, I cannot say that that has been true as of the late.

While the stress of a long trip had always been a great setup for compromises in the immune system, the events of the past few months (or perhaps lack thereof), have left me listless.

May has been a real sucker punch to any semblance of healthy living that I've been having.

Elevated uric acid levels. 贅沢病 so they say teased me.

Fine, I'll lay off the beef. Something I don't even really eat anymore, unless I'm in Tokyo or something.

Hay fever and/or cold soon followed. And after that, a period of numbing lethargy and relative indifference.

I forced myself out of my cocoon Saturday, and now I'm rewarded with this stubborn cough.

Instead of working on things I should. Things that could solve my other problems. I had to nurse myself. And with nothing to show for today. I did zero work. I do not feel any better.

I am left facing the harsh light of this laptop, two or three hours past my ideal sleeping time.

Circadian rhythms banged out of its cadence.

Not that there was much of that as of the late anyway. Either sleep early at 7:00 PM or find myself wide-eyed at 2:07 AM.

Like right now.

Re: That Tear

Regarding that singular tear that manifested on at around 19:20, Monday night:

I had not hidden the fact that I had noticed it. I did not mean to embarrass you by calling your attention it as we parted ways that evening, nor is it my goal by committing this to writing right now.

However, I have been dwelling on it, so I hope you forgive me for spending some time on this. I know you said you apologized profusely to prevent me from being overwhelmed, and to an extent - it worked. 

I waved it off. Laughed it off. But I feel that by reacting that way I diminished the significance of what happened for you. 

I’m still trying to wrap my head about why it happened. That singular physical manifestation of distilled emotion, I mean. 

I wondered if it was out of shame? That you felt bad for being, well for the lack of a better term “a baby”? It felt like you prefaced it with so much - hedging…tried to downplay its significance to you. Some welled-up emotion from your emotional self-denial?

I’m here to say, it’s okay. You do not have to feel ashamed, if that’s what it was.

Yeah, I admit it. Sometimes, I do think you’re a kid. You make choices or have reactions that I would not make right now, given where I am in my life, but would probably have had I been 12 years or so younger.  That much cannot be helped. It is one tiny blemish, from my perspective. As you know, I do not treat you like a kid, privately. And this is not an active, conscious, pedantic choice either. It springs naturally from how I feel - that you are someone I trust wholly with myself. I would not do that with someone that by default I think is a kid. Seriously, you have to get over that. The fact you’re aware that you’re young is in itself an indicator of maturity and humility - something I don’t see from others, who are sorely lacking in self-awareness. You, my friend, have a surplus of that. 

However, you being hurt by my cruel words has nothing to do with age or maturity. I was harsh and thoughtless. And you’re not wrong, they were cutting words, cold and choice. I am struggling right now to explain it away right now. I can’t say if it was calculated, and while I didn’t realize it at the time, the fact that it took advantage of one of your deepest emotions is unequivocally wrong.  

Friends should not do that. Dear friends should not even consider doing it at all. 

I can somewhat grasp now why it had wounded you so. If that tear was for that betrayal of trust, I am truly sorry.

Finally, if I entertained the thought, and forgive me if I flatter myself, was that you really do care what I think, and perhaps a despondence over a relationship broken - soured either by my thoughtlessness or your perceived foolishness (again, not foolish at all). 

I was a little hurt by the idea that you didn’t trust me enough that I’d be willing to hear you out or to think that I would think less of you, the effect is in fact the opposite - I think more of you. And that perhaps you are worth being a friend, across temporal and physical distance. 

I’d like to think I’m generous with myself. Whatever I offer people, I give freely - not really expecting anything in return. One can try to reach out, but if others only take, it does get tiring. 

Yeah, well, as you said, we have so much in common. I guess that’s true. I’ve never met anyone here who is as generous with himself as you are. In life, actually. I may have joked that you’re polite to a fault. I wasn’t complaining; it was more of disbelief. Is this guy for real? 

For me, that tear was an answer to that question. In the affirmative.

So if you felt that perhaps we weren’t as close as you thought.

You’re right. 

And maybe you wished it never happened.

Well, we can’t.

Friendships aren’t forged in the lukewarm tepidness of complacency and safety. The punchline is supposed to be something along the lines of, we’re not as close as you thought you were because perhaps we’re even closer than that.

But that sounds so…gay. 

Good thing, I can say that. 

Again, going back…not forged in the lukewarm tepidness…ah yes, but rather forged in the dangerous dance of fiery death between trust and vulnerability. 

What I had thought this whole things was about was how much I annoyed you with my problems. That’s what I really thought. That perhaps I had abused your friendship with my incessant, and pointless, pining and whining over someone who clearly doesn’t respect my feelings enough. 

Yep. That’s what I really thought. And yeah, I felt bad about it too. Not because you shut me out, but because I felt that I deserved it. And that’s why I was surprised that you kept apologizing, and I wanted to give you a hug, but wasn’t sure if that was appropriate or if you actually still mad at me. 

Thank you for trusting me again. I am really ridiculously happy you’re talking to me again as well. Sorry, if this letter became sappy. But then again, maybe I’m just saying that. The sorry bit.

My Family's Slave

Not me. Not by me.

Could have been me.

Never forget.

https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2017/06/lolas-story/524490/

Consuelo de bobo

Ano pa ba ang masasabi ko tungkol kay Hector?

Halos parang lahat ay nabuhos ko na. Lahat ng ligaya at luha ay nailathala na dito.

Kung gaano ako nahulog sa isang binatang may matinding pinagdaraan ngunit may katumbas na busilak ng kadalisayan na walang hanggan.


Yun ang anuman na akong hinahanap. Ngunit, nabigo ako.

Bakit di naman ako mabibigo? Isa syang, prinsipe. Isang poon na ibig sundan at alalayan ng aking puso. Isang binatang biniyayaan ng mukhang di man lang malilok ng pinakabihasang iskultor. Ngunit sinumpahan ng pusong walang lakas para sa mundong ito.

Ako naman tong si tanga. Bilang dakilang bobo, walang humpay na pumupulok ng bato, upang ipukpok ko lang sa sarili ko.

Bakit ko naman ba sya minahal? O kaya'y minahamal?

Walang sapat na katwiran. Edad. Estado sa buhay. Karanasan. Saang anggulo mo tignan, at paano mo pa sya pa iku-ikutin, parang malabo.

Ano pa nga pa ba ang magagawa natin?

Sa dinami-dami ng beses nyang sinabi sa akin ito, tila naging koro na sya ng pinakamalubhang awit ng pagkabigo.

Kahit gaano kasakit, hindi ko maikakaila na ang tanging dinadabog ng puso ko ay iniibig kong ibuhos ang buong pagkatao ko, upang mabigyan ng pagkakataon na ibigin sya.

Ngunit kung ako naman ay walang kwenta sa kanya, bakit pa nga ba?

Sinabi sya noon, kahit sino maaari nyang i-date.


Sinuman, ha? E di sinubukan ko.

Ngunit ako ay di man lang mabigyan ng pagkakataon.

Nahiya naman ako sa kanya. At sa sarili ko. Ang kapal naman ng mukha kong mangarap.

Ok lang kung sabihin nyang ayaw nya sa akin. Naiintindihan ko naman yun.

Ngunit kung ang sagot ay gusto nya, pero...ano pa bang magagawa natin?

Anak ng tipaklong naman o. Anong consuelo de bobo naman to?

Anong consuelo ang dapat kong maramdaman nang sabihin nya na gusto nya ako, ngunit...hindi?

Anong ginhawa ng kalooban? Anong paghihilom ng puso ang makakamit ng mga salitang yun?

Wala. Ang mga salitang yun ay hindi para sa akin, kundi upang mapanatag ang sarili nyang loob.


Ano pa nga ba ang masasabi ko tungkol kay Hector?

Wala na nga siguro, kung pag-iisipan.




Hindi.


Pumapalag pa rin ang puso ko. May libu-libong mga kwento na maaring pang maisulat. Awit na maikakanta.

Ngunit ang pumipigil ay hindi tadhana. Hindi kapansanan. Hindi kamatayan.

Kundi ang isang binatang sa ayaw ko man at gusto ko, ay hindi ko mabitawan.

The Audacity of Hope

I think I'm beginning to dislike Obama.

I was about to settle down on this entry, when I felt this nagging feeling that I should google this title first.

Turns out, Mr. Obama wrote the book on hope, literally.

So I should throw the man a bone and quote his speech from where I must have subconsciously lifted this title from.

In the end, that's what this election is about. Do we participate in a politics of cynicism or a politics of hope? .... I'm not talking about blind optimism here — the almost willful ignorance that thinks unemployment will go away if we just don't talk about it, or the health care crisis will solve itself if we just ignore it.

No, I'm talking about something more substantial.

It's the hope of slaves sitting around a fire singing freedom songs; the hope of immigrants setting out for distant shores; the hope of a young naval lieutenant bravely patrolling the Mekong Delta; the hope of a millworker's son who dares to defy the odds; the hope of a skinny kid with a funny name who believes that America has a place for him, too. Hope in the face of difficulty. Hope in the face of uncertainty. The audacity of hope!

Ah hope. The nerve of that feeling, disposition to rally against the grain, to impose itself on us. Pushing us outside our comfort zones to chase shooting stars.

But how do we even catch falling stars and other such most precious things when they're out of our reach?

Perhaps Elon Musk said it best, When something is important enough, you do it even if the odds are not in your favor.

People have said that this one of the things I'm good at. My exuberance. My optimism. My chutzpah. 

How and why I have come to be this beacon of confident aspirations?

I do not really understand why. Perhaps it was the steady diet of Disney films and their protagonists daring to dream of adventure in the great wide somewhere. Maybe it's just that they say I'm an "old soul" - whatever that means. That I dare.

Confession time. When I started writing this particular entry, about two weeks ago, I had intended it to be a treatise on why we should hope. I had envisioned this to be some sweeping inspirational epic - a dissection on hope, to be the be all and all.

However, now is not two weeks ago. 

 Now, I am considerably diminished. My spirit dissipated. Like a open bottle of soda under the hot summer sun. Sickly sweet with no sparkle.

It was simple really. It was something that could have been fulfilled by anybody. That was literally the word used, anybody. 

I certainly had the gall to think I was that somebody that could have fulfilled that role.

As it happened, I failed in my quest. I had journeyed far. Under the pretense of accompanying others on an adventure I had hesitated to partake in. However, I could not pass up the opportunity to try. It was a covert mission of sorts - to woo that one person that had made me feel like I had never felt in my colorful life. 

I don't understand why. Logic, in all its falsehood fails me.

Endlessly manipulable logic failed me. Emotion, on the other hand, however maligned, sang clarion songs in my heart - illogical but irrevocably true.

Yet, I failed, a quest that could have been accomplished by anybody. The conclusion is irrefutably definite, if I was not the somebody that could have been anybody, I was, in fact, nobody.

Hope - you cruel audacious beast. How dare you present yourself to me bearing your promises?

How dare you cheer me on, like the fool that I was to follow your song?

In the end, you were right. What's the point? 

Nothing can be done.

年休

Took the day off today.

I was already late for work. Got as far as city hall. Then turned back.

This is really starting to suck a lot more than I thought it would.

Far more than I expected to me to suck even more than I usually do.

Science and Religion

Faith and Reason.

Sleep-Addled

After only getting 30 minutes of sleep the other night, you'd think I'd crash and burn.

Instead, I'm still up for yet another night, sleep-addled, with more past-midnight oil to burn.

The phantom tries to grab my hand again. For now, I can keep at bay.

For how much longer, I wonder.