Not really guilt-tripping

It's really funny that, here I am, totally obsessed with the pursuit of my life's meaning, and yet, in the face of all the problems that our society face today, my obsession is proven to be insignificant.

It was Saturday evening at the mall. Me and my girlfriend were at the tail-end of another wonderful day, and we were on the queue for the last ride going home. While we were waiting for our turn to be ushered inside the shuttle, I noticed this familiar street urchin who's been haunting that particular area of the mall for as long as I can remember. He was holding a broom, and he was sweeping the floor with it, even though he wasn't supposed to do so, and there were no dirt for him to sweep at all. He was merely playing around by imitating the act of sweeping the floor with a broom. Childish behavior. Which isn't really strange for his case, considering that a quick look at the kid's size betrays the fact that he's a very young child, 4 years old at the very least. 

Anyway, there he was, waving that broom around, swinging around playfully without minding the people around him. It came to the point where the kid was flailing that broom around so much that he almost hit my girlfriend. Being the girl that my girlfriend is, she instinctively evaded the swing in order to avoid getting dirty. And of course, there was a slight hint of irritation in her face along with that act. Naturally, the other people inside the shuttle looked at our direction, because that's what people do when there's a commotion, no matter how insignificant it is. It was a bit embarrassing, to be honest, and actually, I couldn't really tell what I was really embarrassed about. It could have been my girlfriend, because she did give out this quick shriek that is typical of your average spooked girl. Or it could have been the fact that I allowed everything to happen. I don't really know, to be honest.

If there was an emotion that prevailed at that moment, though, it was the disturbing feeling that I got looking at that kid. It's not actually the first time that I've encountered that kid. He's always approached me ever since I started riding that particular shuttle route to accompany my girlfriend home, and every time he approached me for money, I rejected him. Nevertheless, I was still disturbed by the awkwardness of me not helping this kid, even though there was an overflowing emotion of sympathy in my chest. Once again, I have refused to give him money, and this time I felt exceptionally bad because of it.

Of course, I wasn't this way before. Back when I was still in college, I almost always gave out spare change to beggars and street urchins whenever they stretched their hands out to me. I felt good doing it, not because I wanted to help, but because I believed it to be the right thing, and of course, doing the right thing makes me feel good about myself. But ever since I've read this online conversation between my professors and my classmates about the supposed virtue of handing out alms, I have stopped giving alms, primarily because according to them, alms are merely dole-outs that don't really uplift the condition of the poor. Also, giving out alms because it felt good is really not a very good thing to do, since by doing so we reduce the beggars down to mere objects of self-justification. It's doing a good thing for the sake of feeling good because you've just done a good thing, which pretty much waters your act of goodwill down to insincerity. Hence my unwillingness to give money to that poor kid. I won't let myself be drawn to insincerity. 

But at the same time, I was deeply troubled by the fact that I didn't really help that kid by not giving him anything, either. Like so many others that have seen that kid, I merely looked at him and then forgot all about the experience once I lost sight of him. I was disturbed by the fact that, here I am enjoying the fruits of my so-called labor, while at the same time there are children like that kid who can't even enjoy a decent meal because he was born into a circumstance that never gave him the chance to do so. 

Apathy? I don't think so. Apathy is when someone has been totally desensitized by the issue at hand that he has lost the motivation to do something about it. No, I felt sympathy at the kid, and I somehow empathized with his feelings, since I, too, was a child at one point in my life. I may not have been as unfortunate as him, but I did know the feeling of loneliness, of helplessness, of not being able to do anything about my circumstance. Nobody deserves that kind of life. 

If I was to describe myself at that moment, it wouldn't be apathetic, nor would it be sincere, but rather, it would be helpless. I thought was helpless in the face of the situation. Maybe I could have gotten out of my way to help that kid by bringing him to some shelter, or to the proper authorities. But that would probably expose myself to the danger of being attacked by whoever was in charge of watching that kid. I'm aware that there are criminals who run syndicates dedicated to making children ask for alms, and so trying anything with that kid without a policeman or security might risk endangering my safety. Also, I've never tried taking anybody to DSWD. I don't exactly know how that situation would play out. Giving him money won't exactly help him either, because it might just go to whoever was watching that kid. Or, at the very least, be spent on a piece of bread that won't even last for a night. In the end, I believe was totally useless for this young kid. I was another strange face in the crowd that didn't really matter to him. 

Maybe. That's what I believe. 

But maybe it was also because I am so consumed by my journey to self-actualization that I don't want to be sidetracked by anybody or anything. Maybe I didn't want to get out of my way for this kid because of the fact that I would have to get out of my way for him. I didn't want to do that, maybe. There's still this idea that I am entitled to the fruits of my labor, and that I am entitled to rest from my labors once in a while because I worked for those rewards. 

However, there's this sentiment in me that I can't really shake off: how can I be happy when there are poor people around me? How can I enjoy my money and my time if other people can't enjoy theirs? How can I be so selfish to just think of myself and forget the pain and suffering that other people have to go through every day? 

How dare me to live like this in spite of the poverty in the world?

I don't think it would be fair to myself, to let myself be blind and ignorant of the suffering that there is in the world for my own sake. To just blind myself to the rest of the world so that I can pursue my own salvation. It's not fair. To me AND to everybody. 

It looks like it's time for me to do something useful. 

A Letter to a Friend (that I wish he never gets to read)

Hi there.

First of all, I hope you never get to read this letter. Mainly because what I'll be pouring into this piece of writing will be what I believe to be the truth. Truth about what I think about you, what you think of yourself, and what I believe about what's going to be the best for you. And most of all, this letter is going to be about the biggest truth about yourself.

The truth that you absolutely hate the truth. And you will hate reading this letter because of that.

We've known each other for so long. It's been a rough relationship, but we had our moments. We weren't exactly the most dynamic duo out there. We might not actually be the best kind of friends at all. But we stuck together all these years because we were each other's comfort zone. You did a lot of other things and went out with other friends, but once you've scratched that itch you were having at that moment, you'd come back knocking on my gate, carrying all the stories you've saved up during the times when you were having that phase of yours. Those were good times indeed, and that's why we've stuck as friends for almost a decade now. And coming from what you've been telling me about you and the adventures you've been having, I think I have at least an inkling of what your motives are.

You like going out with other people and trying different stuff because you're the type of person who loves pleasing other people. That's how you affirm yourself: you revel in the admiration of others. But not because you're a megalomaniac, no, you're definitely nothing like that. You simply grew up in an atmosphere of camaraderie, an environment where family and social relationships are valued more than money and property. You genuinely love people and their company. Your self-affirmation is brought about by the respect and adoration that other people afford you whenever you manage to please them. It's what I admire about you the most, since I, too, am a frustrated crowd-pleasing wannabe. I don't have the kind of people skills that you have. But at the same time, it's that same quality that I believe has brought you to your knees as of late.

You see, because you long for respect and admiration so much, you've raised the bar for yourself so high that you can't really reach in a realistic manner at this point. There's this burning pride in you that compels you to seek ways on how to turn heads towards you. You've set yourself on paths that won't really end that well for you, because you're not meant for those paths, and yet you have done so because these are paths that would allow you to collect the most amount of admiration and respect.

Your don't have Aphasia, but you sure sound like you do, regardless of the tongue you're speaking in, and yet the number of  attempts you've made at trying to get into a call center has almost reached into the hundreds. You've pretty much combed the entirety of Makati and Cubao, and all you've gotten was a couple of months' work that can't even be considered as valid work experience. And yet, after all that, you still keep on trying.

Attempt after attempt after attempt. All because of the belief that getting into a call center is an achievement that is worthy of praise and respect. It's not, trust me. It's sweatshop labor, employees are being treated like tethered cattle, and the distinction of being able to communicate in English with an American accent is diminished by the fact that call center agents are merely parrots that replay the policies and the guides that have been prescribed by the client. Yeah, a decade ago, call center agents used to be glamorous and worthy of being called a professional. But not today, when everything about the industry has been laid bare in front of us. There's nothing professional about being a call center agent. Nothing glamorous.

I know you already know that. That's actually why I urged you to look towards other potential employment opportunities. You graduated as a nurse, you've had training in the healthcare industry; you should be working in that industry. But no, you refuse that industry because you feel like being a caregiver is a downgrade, a job that is looked down upon because it's manual labor. You don't believe that there's any glory in that kind of work.

You're actually a decent cook. You've cooked for tons of parties, because again, you and your lot revel in the company of each other, especially in celebration. With proper training, I honestly believe you'd actually be a great cook, maybe even a professional chef. But again, you ignore that path, because you think kitchen work is for servants.

No, you still love the idea of being a young professional; a yuppie in long sleeves walking along the streets of Makati like some highfalutin bigshot with an iPhone in one hand and a Blackberry full of contacts in the other (oh wait, you prefer the Galaxy S4 now, not because it's better, but because you used to train for Galaxy S4 support, thereby making you an "expert" on stuff regarding that phone).

That's why you're dabbling in Photoshop right now. At the very least, you've finally realized that you're on the wrong path. But now you've set yourself on another wrong one. Why?

Because you're not an artist. You've never been one. And not in a million years will you ever be. I could be wrong about that last part, but I think I know you enough to come at that conclusion.

You don't have the natural creativity. You don't have the artistic vision. You don't have the dexterity and the skill to execute. Photoshop isn't a skill, not when you're simply adjusting filters on a picture you grabbed from the internet. You don't even know the concept of a "subject" in art. You don't have any purpose in your creations. You just play around with the tools that are available in whatever version of Photoshop you might have, and then call whatever result you get as "art". No, your "art" is the equivalent of a misguided experiment's unintended outcomes. It's the digital equivalent of a paper doodle. Plain and simple.

Yet you're still walking along this path, because once again, you believe this is a path that will bring you respect and admiration. After all, professional artists do get the nod from other professionals because they're also a force that creates, a force that affects and drives the society and the economy.

You want to be part of that. You want to get that nod of respect, too. But only if you start creating will you be part of that creative force. Which, at this rate, won't seem to be happening anytime soon.

Hence my point as to why you don't like the truth: Because it's opposite of what you're trying to achieve. You don't like to admit the fact that you are nothing like the person that you're trying to be. However, since that particular truth does go against your will, you've blinded yourself to it, so much that, at this point, you're practically unable to steer yourself away from the wrong decisions you've set yourself on.

You are a humble person, I give you that. But right now, you're simply doing everything just to get that self-affirmation you've been getting through the attention of others, so much that your humility has become overshadowed by actions that would point towards the opposite of humility. You're no longer the happy-go-lucky person that I know. Because of your circumstance, you've been driven to do things that you're not supposed to. Right now, you feel like you're wretched, like you're a person who's not worthy of anything. And that's why you feel the need to save your self from this predicament.

Noble, but futile. Futile because your ideas for salvation are skewed.

I tried helping you out. But again, you have your own ideas. And at this point, I'll have to stop trying to help you, because I can only do so much. Any more and I will have to abandon my own attempts at saving my own skin, which is something I couldn't do because we're both in need of salvation. It might seem like abandonment, but to be honest, nobody can't really help you beyond what they can afford to provide. You've had help. Hundreds of times. From several people. And yet they never had any effect on you, because you don't believe in their help. You feel like their help is not going to let you achieve the goals that you've set. Our help doesn't agree with your own idea of victory. And that's why you feel so alone right now. Only because you've rejected the hundreds of helping hands that surround you.

Well, who knows. Maybe it's this solitude that might finally give you the answer you've been looking for. Or, at least, force you to look for more practical solutions to your predicament.

Well, either way. I'm not gonna stop you from achieving your dreams. It's your life, after all. I even hope that you can prove me wrong, that, one of these days, you'll finally show us that you actually fit the roles you've been trying to get into these past few years. So I'll step aside and let you do your thing. Maybe all you need is a little space to gather some momentum. Again, who knows?

On the other hand, that's as much help as I can give at this point. Step aside. Since you're so adamant on doing things your way, you'll actually have to do it your way.

Without me.

I'll still be here, no doubt about that. Only as a spectator, no longer an active hand, but still a spectator who's watching intently.

This is your chance to prove me wrong. I'll be watching your every move. Because I care.

Because I'll always be your best friend.

Why I keep standing

I have done so many horrible things in the past, in varying degrees of severity, both to myself and to others. Some were accidental. Others were deliberate. All of them, I totally regret.

I  know there are people who would want to see me burn and drop dead, all because they hate what they know of me. They know me as far as how much I've shown them of myself, and for some of them, I've shown nothing but reasons why I deserve their hatred and contempt. For some, I'm just a victim of the fact that nobody can ever please everybody, since I can't really control how other people see me. But there are others that I have deliberately acted against, in both anger and bouts of stupidity, and to those people, I am totally guilty. Can't say I disagree; I know perfectly well that I am guilty of those sins.

Sometimes, the guilt is enough to drive me up the wall, make me lose sleep, run around and cry my eyes out. I rarely complain, though, since I myself believe that I do deserve chastisement for all of the things that I've done in the past, and if I don't get my due punishment, then at the very least, the mental torment of knowing what I am guilty of should be enough.

But if there's one good thing that has come out of this predicament, it's the realization that I'm still here, pondering and reflecting on my sins.

After all, I consider the guilt brought by these thoughts to be a reminder that I'm still human, that I still have a sound grasp of right and wrong. And right now, I'm still alive, breathing, not only able to look back on my past and reflect on it, but to look forward and see how much road I still have in front of me.

I'm still alive. I still have a long way to go. My journey isn't over, and I can't let a mile of bad decisions define my entire life and my whole identity.

For these reasons, I will continue to stand and live. I will continue to hold on to the idea that my life is promising, that I can still make it and be proud of myself at the end of it all.

To the people that I have inflicted pain upon, I humbly apologize. But I value my life too much to stand idly by and comply with my own destruction.

Nobody deserves that kind of surrender. Not even me.