The Absurdity of Self-Sacrifice

To attempt to dedicate oneself to the arduous maintenance of somebody else’s self-esteem while totally disregarding one’s own welfare and self-respect.

That is the very meaning of absurdity.

Sometimes it may also be confused with true love; to abandon the self in favor of another without any consideration for reward. But that is only if the person making the sacrifice does so willingly, without the threat of any kind of emotional blackmail. Without those qualifications, self-sacrifice is reduced to mere subservience, a degradation of the self.

To confuse subservience for love is to enter a prison of one’s own design, where every act of kindness becomes another bar on the cage. I know this because I lived it, pouring myself into someone who only learned to take, never to return. What began as devotion slowly turned into depletion, a steady erosion of dignity that I mistook for loyalty.

But love that requires the death of the self is not love at all. It is dependence dressed in romance, manipulation veiled as passion. And when the heart finally learns to distinguish between the two, the revelation is bitter but liberating.

In the end, I learned that self-respect is not selfishness, and boundaries are not betrayals. To love someone else without first protecting your own dignity is to build a house on sand, doomed to collapse under the weight of its own contradictions. Real love, if it ever arrives, must be a partnership of equals, not a hierarchy of sacrifice.

Trying Hard: The Truth About Call Center Agents and Survival

I always hear about people laughing at call center agents and the BPO industry in general. They say it’s full of lazy, incompetent, try-hard sweatshop laborers. Often, the stories I hear about call center agents involve them showing off their newfound ability to mouth off in English by having loud conversations in jeepneys, and altercations in places like coffee shops and fast-food restaurants, where, of course, the call center agent is the pretentious wannabe yelling at staff in their fake midwestern accent. They earn the ire of doctors for their sorry attempts at faking their way towards a medical certificate. And of course, call center agents have always been the butt of jokes by licensed professionals and the so-called intellectual elite who view the BPO industry as a bastion of incompetence.

I don’t blame them. The BPO industry is full of people who come from all walks of life, and this includes those who tend to be sneered at as being undesirable, primarily because the barrier to entry is quite low. For most call center jobs, the only requirement is that you must be able to read, speak, and write in business-grade English (which doesn’t really take much to do). This results in the industry becoming a hodgepodge of people who hail from practically all backgrounds, but mostly from the hoi polloi, the unwashed masses, the plebs, since, after all, they do make up the majority of our population. True, there are those who come from the A’s, B’s, and C’s, those who come from prestigious schools like UP, Ateneo, and DLSU, and there are those who come in or eventually emerge as lawyers, engineers, artists, and such. But most of the people you will find in the BPO industry are who the news would usually refer to as being part of the masa, people who can only be passionate about survival and nothing else. Call centers are full of socially immobile people who either can’t land a better job because their meager capacity can’t afford them the kind of education that they desire, or whose eclectic interests and personalities do not align with any particular profession that our current society would consider noteworthy.

So to me, it wouldn’t be a surprise if you meet a call center agent who doesn’t have enough cultural capital to carry themselves in a manner that won’t end up being seen as jologs by those coming from the upper echelons of society.

But then again, who can blame call center agents for trying hard? Indeed, to survive is to try hard. And that is exactly what they are doing: they are doing their best to survive, with their dignity intact as much as possible.

And what better way to keep their dignity intact than by being a reflection of society’s ideals? Especially those of the rich and entitled who insult and disparage those whom they consider of lower status. The media seem to think so; their primetime telenovelas are rife with portrayals of rich old women slapping each other and calling each other names. So why not imitate the elitist assholes by being fake elitist assholes themselves?

That, or maybe being an elitist asshole isn’t exclusive to any particular social strata or industry. Painting all call center agents with one brush isn’t just uneducated stereotyping, it’s also unfair to the vast majority who carry themselves with decency and pride.

At the end of the day, the BPO industry is not a caricature of incompetence but a mirror of Philippine society itself: messy, diverse, unequal, but always pushing forward. If call center agents are trying hard, it’s because survival in this country demands it. And if they’re mocked for that, perhaps the joke says less about them and more about us.

One fine day (a eulogy)

The 27th of August, 2008 was a typical day for my 22-year-old self. Back then, I didn't have a job, and I hadn't made the decision to go back to school yet. All I did was play video games on my old PC; a sad old Pentium 4 with a rickety old video card. Because of this, I never had to go outside, since playing video games was all I cared about, and the only place I can do it for free would be at home.

In other words, I was a freeloading homebody with no actual responsibilities to take care of. 

So to make myself useful, I took it upon myself to become our household's official steward (well, I'd like to think of it that way, but my family would say that I really had no choice in the matter). This means I did almost all of the household chores, except the laundry (which I occasionally did), and I was also in charge of making sure that everything in the house was in proper order. And that means everything. Including the front area/garden of our house where our tools and cleaning equipment are stored. 

It's also the place my dog calls home. 

Meet Obama. 

Notice the small mess of sticks in front of him. Those are the remains of a broomstick, which we used to clean the outdoor areas of our house. It also happened to be Obama's favorite chew toy. Of all the things that we kept outdoors, this broom was the thing he loved to mangle the most. And since I was in charge of keeping things in order, I was the one who had to clean up after him, which was very irritating for me, because I didn't have to do it if he didn't go around messing stuff up. I used to yell at him a lot whenever I caught him and his mischief, because I didn't appreciate having to get up and do unnecessary work, like cleaning up after my dog.

Oddly enough, on that day, I just decided to give up and submitted myself to the fact that he'll always chew on that broom. Every time I yell at Obama for messing stuff up, he gives me this look that makes it seem like he's trying to tell me that he has no clue whatsoever about what he's done.

There's no way I can keep on yelling at that face, because 1) it would be futile to try and emphasize an idea that he really wouldn't understand, and 2) he just looks so happy that I can't help but smile and be happy as well. So on that day I just ended up forgiving him, and decided to have a bit of fun together with him.

All in all, it was a good day. 

He was a just young dog fresh out of puppyhood on that day, almost a year old. He's an Aspin (portmanteau of the word asong pinoy, which translates to "native mutt"), with a slight mix of Labrador. We got him from our neighbor who owned his mother (affectionately named "Chicken" by the denizens of that household). Chicken just gave birth to a litter of pups at that time, and our neighbor wasn't sure about what to do with the puppies, so they gave them away to a list of random neighbors, which happened to include us. Since we didn't have a dog at that time, we all just went "meh", and took him in. 

We named him Obama, because my dad had a knack for naming pets based on whoever the prominent world leader was at the time, which happened to be Barack Obama, the president of the United States.

There was no sense of destiny when we took Obama in. All I thought of back then was that he was a cute puppy. We used to call him Baka (cow) because he looked like one when he was a puppy. Small head, big tummy, white coat with big, brown spots in some places. And it was fun, raising him as a pet. To us, he looked like a very happy dog, even though that might not actually be true, because for all we know, it was just the way he looked like. Still, the way we played with him can only be described as energetic. We danced with him, we ran around and played tag. To put it simply, Obama was a bundle of fun.

He was a very friendly dog. In fact, he was the first dog that didn't scare me, even though he was a relatively large one as compared to other aspin mutts. For a long time, I was scared of dogs because as a kid, I was mauled by one of our dogs (named Saddam, which I found to be quite fitting, since he was very rabid). So I wasn't very fond of dogs to begin with, but Obama changed all that for me with his friendly demeanor. You could almost say he singlehandedly cured my fear of dogs without him realizing it.

Even our cat found him to be worthy of friendship. Not once have I caught them fighting. In fact, they were pretty close, as far as cats and dogs go. Our cat treated Obama as if he was family, so to us, that says a lot about him as a dog.

On the other hand, his spontaneous energy has also brought us headaches from time to time. We live in a subdivision where dogs aren't allowed to roam freely in the streets. Pet owners would get penalized if their dog was caught running around without supervision. So, as responsible pet owners, we did our best to keep him inside our fence so that he doesn't end up chasing kids around the neighborhood, even though he only really meant to play with them.

He did manage to get out a lot, though. Obama was very strong and fast back then, so he always managed to overpower my mom or my sister whenever he caught either of them opening the front gate. And once he finds himself outside, he then bolts off in a random direction. At first, I used to run after him to try and catch him, but soon enough, he'd be running off so fast that I eventually gave up trying to do so. Whenever I do manage to catch him, though, I would often have to drag him back because he enjoys the outdoors too much. There were even a couple of times when I had to carry him a couple of blocks just to bring him back home. We found Obama tedious because of this behavior of his, so to keep him from slipping out, we had to watch our backs every time we tried to exit our front gate. Otherwise, he'd bolt again if we weren't careful enough.

I used to take Obama outside for walks back when I was a bit of a fitness buff. That didn't last too long, though, since I never found myself having enough time and motivation to take him on a walk. Aside from that, I learned that our neighborhood wasn't really keen with people walking their dogs around. Poop issues, stuff like that. So I eventually stopped taking him for walks, and Obama had to stick with running around our yard for his entertainment.

If he wasn't successful in tying to get out of the house, he'd try to get inside. Obama was an overly-attached dog, so to speak, so he'd always wanted to stay by our side at the very least if he couldn't go out. Our dad didn't like letting him in, though, so we had to yell him out whenever we found him sneaking his way inside the house. But most of the time, when our dad wasn't around, we'd just let him stay, as long as we were there to keep an eye on him. After all, we did like having him around as long as he was on his best behavior.

The problem with having Obama inside the house, though, was that he brought his mischief with him. He chewed stuff, he ran around and got hair all over everything, and he always tried to piss or take a poop in my room (or anywhere else inside the house for that matter) whenever he got the chance. And as always, I was the one who ended up cleaning after him, so that was enough of a reason for me to make sure he stayed outside of the house proper.

That was pretty much how we handled Obama throughout the years. We had fun with him whenever we could, but most of the time, we saw him as a bit of a nuisance. We always had to do our best to keep an eye on him, make sure he stays within our yard, and we had to clean up after him whenever he makes a mess inside the house.

Eventually, I found myself back in college, and then after that, I went through a couple of jobs. My sister went on to become a doctor. My dad was still working his usual 8 to 5 job, and my mom was, well, busy. Everybody in our household had something to take care of most of the time. We found ourselves spending less time with Obama, and because of that, we sort of neglected him for a bit. We rarely gave him baths, and we only played with him for a bit before we sent him back out. Fleas were a common occurrence, and even though we scrambled to find medicine for treating him, we were usually late in doing so and ended up prolonging his discomfort.

We kinda took him for granted, actually. That was how most of the years with him played out. We never thought of him as soft, being the large, tough dog that he seemed to be. But Obama was a huge softie at his core, probably because of the Labrador blood he had in him. He kept on trying to get inside the house and wanting to be with us, even though we sometimes found him tedious and dirty. To be fair, we did keep on loving him as well, but it was always a bit less than what he deserved. And we never thought of it as something that could actually endanger his life.

One day, we decided to take our front yard apart so we could use the area as parking space for our car. We never really thought much of this, as our only concern was to make sure our car was safe. But we never realized how much this would affect Obama.

Our front yard was Obama's place. It was where he stayed the most, where he ran around the most, where he could play around the most. It was where the door that led to the inside of our house was located. That door was where he stuck his ear onto, because it was where he felt closest to us, so even though he was outside, being next to that door gave him a small measure of comfort. The front yard was gave him a view of the outside world that he yearned so much to be a part of. The way I saw it, our front yard was a huge part of his life, and to see that go was painful to him.

After the front yard was turned into a parking space, Obama was limited to our backyard (which was more of a small, cramped laundry area than an actual backyard) and a small narrow concrete aisle that led to the former front yard, now closed off by a small metal gate. The huge view of the outside world that Obama used to enjoy turned into this small, dark window that limited his view, and to that, he never really managed to adjust. During the first few weeks, he howled every night and barked at even the slightest movement. His longing to go outside, which was already great in the first place, was further intensified by his situation. When he wasn't constantly barking and making noise, he can be found banging on our back door. Our front door was no longer accessible to him, so he switched to our back door, which had no screen, so he didn't have a view of the inside of the house. Also, it was above a small flight of stairs, so Obama couldn't really rest on it as opposed to our front door, which was on level ground that allowed him to lie down right next to it. Basically, his movement at that time was limited to just going back and forth the small distance between our back door and the small metal gate leading outside, and he could only rest in a place that had no window looking inside our house.

I can't imagine what might have been going through Obama's mind back then, but in retrospect, knowing him and his emotional attachment towards us, it must have been torture for him, keeping him in a small, confined space that was almost akin to being caged. We did let him inside the house from time to time, but never for too long, and never overnight, as that was practically leaving him to do as he like, which to us meant having to clean up poop and piss the morning after. So whatever consolation we might have given him by letting him inside and playing with him for a couple of minutes was always overshadowed by the fact that he still had to go back outside at the end of the day.

I'm not sure if all of that caused him to slow down and turn into what he became a few weeks ago. It might have been a virus, but we've been very effective at keeping him inside recently that we've closed that possibility off. He could have eaten something, like laundry detergent, or something indigestible, but we couldn't really confirm it, since none of us were registered vets. Either way, Obama started becoming lethargic as time went on, and we scrambled to find the reason for his sickness. We cured his fleas, we gave him baths, we let him inside the house more often than usual. But still, it didn't seem to improve his condition, and we were left clueless as to what was ailing Obama.

Eventually, his energetic demeanor gave way to complete lethargy. He refused to eat anything that we gave him, and he started to grow really thin. We were worried about him, but we didn't exactly know what to do with him either. And none of us were concerned enough to think about spending money just to bring him to the vet. I did try to bring him the typical dog treats and stuff to chew on that you can find in a pet store, but all it did was fool me into thinking that I was helping Obama. In reality, I couldn't really tell if what I gave him actually helped.

A couple of weeks ago, he stopped banging against our back door. He just sat in the backyard, with a sad, drooping face. For days, he hasn't touched any food that we gave him. Also, we knew he was getting thin, but we were completely caught off-guard to see how bony he looked. It looked as if he was dying. But for the last time, we shrugged it off, as we've had sick pets before, and they usually turned out alright as soon as we fed them some chicken.

Yes, we're that stupid when it comes to pets. To us, feeding pets some fried chicken counts as a miracle cure for every pet's ailment.

Yesterday, we checked up on him. He was completely silent, and he simply gave us this sad look. Me and my sister took turns in going down on him and comforting him with our hands, but he just sat there, gazing at us with his deep, black eyes. I wanted to hug him at that time, but, then again, I never really got used to the idea of hugging him. So I did what I thought was best: I caressed him slowly, patted him lightly on the head, and told him in the most comforting manner that I could muster that he was going to be alright if only he ate his food. After that, I went back inside the house, Obama gazing at me as I closed the back door on him.

At that moment, I didn't realize it, but it would be the last time that I'll ever see Obama alive.

This morning, I was my usual busy self. I didn't bother checking up on Obama, since, just like always, we simply thought he was just sick and that he'll eventually get back on his feet once he starts eating again. I was optimistic, so I kept him out of my thoughts this morning. Nothing unusual as far as I was concerned.

That mood changed when I heard my mom's startled scream from the backyard.

I was about to stand up to find out what happened, but then saw that I didn't need to. My mom walked immediately towards my room to let me know of the sad news as I was standing up from my seat.

Obama was gone.

Optimistic thoughts aside, I wasn't really surprised to hear about Obama's death. The night before, I already told my mom that we should prepare for what could happen, since, based on what I saw in Obama, even though I didn't want to believe it, I knew that there was a chance he won't get out of this one alive. But even then, I still went outside to confirm if he was really dead.

I found him in the part of the backyard leading towards the concrete aisle. He was lying flat on the ground, with his tongue sticking out and piss leaking along his underbelly. At first I thought I saw his chest rise up, but touching him confirmed that he was indeed no longer breathing.

In my wildest dreams, I've never really thought about seeing Obama in that state. I've always thought he'd live to about 20 or so. That was the typical life expectancy for dogs, or so I've heard. I guess I never really considered the fact that it only applied to dogs that were well-kept. Or the fact that Obama wasn't one of them. All this time I thought he was fine. I was wrong. And I can't be more regretful of that than I am now.

My final regret was that I didn't have enough money to give Obama a proper burial. To me, he deserved to be at least cremated and put into a nice urn. Or at least have PAWS take him to their burial yard. But I didn't have the money, so we ended up hiring two kids to put his body into a burlap sack and bury him in a nearby forest. I didn't go with them, so I'm not sure how well they buried it, but they did break the shovel I gave them, so I guess that was proof enough that they did the job, at the very least.

I'm not going to make it look pretty and seem as if we were the best of pals. Looking back, I have so many regrets about the 8 years that we've kept Obama, and I wish he could be here right now to hear me say sorry for everything that I did and didn't do. But, knowing him, he'd just smile and give me that look. He doesn't care about the past. I realized just now that it was not what he did that he was clueless about, but it was my neglect that he didn't care about. He was that loyal. Fiercely loyal. And he loved us with every second of his beating heart.

I wish I could go back to that day. August 27, 2008. Funny how the date and the time were embedded in the pictures, as if the very images were letting me know how fleeting those memories were. And it's silly, I know, to want to go back in time just for the sake of making things right with a dog.

But if I could, I would. Because I owe it to him.

I'm not sure if I'll ever have a dog like him again. But if I ever did, I'll love him the way I should have loved Obama. That may not be enough for me to make it up to Obama, but at the very least, I'll show him that his death was not in vain; that he showed me what it really means to be a dog's human.

He changed me for the better, and for that I will always be grateful to him.

Rest in peace, my dear Obama. You will be sorely missed.

Salvaging a post I wrote in an old blog of mine

Blog Name: the armchair wanderer

Blog Description: these are the the musings of a 23-year-old insignificant someone who hopes to be actually someone significant. tread carefully, reader, for you step on his thoughts.

Post Date: Monday, January 4, 2010

Post Title: Change, I need

Looks like I'm blogging again. Uh-huh.

But I already have my old blog. I could just log in to that site and post a new entry. That would make stuff easier. Probably.

So.. why am I here? Why start a new blog? I could think of a few reasons.

First, my old web friends that I follow on my old blog have moved on to other things. And nobody among those who are still active are interesting enough to follow. Plus, they don't really care about my 2 to 3-year-old entries. Who would care about old stuff, anyway (except for that random spambot that posts adverts on the comments area)?

Second, it's kinda awkward to start blogging again on that site when the last entry's a couple of years old. There would be no continuity. Besides, my writing and outlook on life has changed drastically over the years, and so to put my current ideas and writing style besides that of my younger self would not be logical. As in my entries back then were very, very juvenile. I mean, you don't even have to read the entries. My old username was already indicative of how childish I was back then. It's really surprising to find that some people took me seriously from time to time (although they do notice my childish thinking once they start following me).

Third, and most importantly, that old blog was a huge part in a particularly painful phase in my life's history. I experienced a lot of unnecessary headaches and heartaches during that phase of my life, and almost all of that experience was recorded on that blog. I literally cringe whenever I think of those memories, which were so painful that I stopped writing because of it. And that is why I don't want to read those old entries anymore. Browsing over writings of my former pains would just be masochistic, and I would want nothing else than to start over and forget my past life. As far as I'm concerned, my former self is already dead, along with my old blog.

Which brings me to my last reason. I really, really want to start the process of changing myself this year. I've already made peace with the fact that I am actually growing older every year, and to stick to the status quo would do me no good. The cold, hard inevitabilities of life are starting to hit me with each passing day, and the only way for me to survive the coming years would be to start the process of becoming mature as a person. I have proposed to myself several ideas that would help me start the necessary changes this new year.

One of them is starting this new blog.

What I noticed about myself was my particular lack of will to commit to anything. I love thinking about a lot of stuff, and a lot of ideas and musings occur in a single day of my life. And it feels quite wasteful for me to not write about these things. Unfortunately, sloth takes over my being whenever I attempt to write these ideas down. I'm really lazy, you know.

And not just about writing. My entire recent history has been shaped by my own laziness.

I've grown fat because of my own laziness. My studies have suffered due to my laziness. My relationships with people have failed due to my laziness (gawd I'm really itching to write about those, LOL). I've basically failed at life because of my own shortcomings.

And so, if I want to continue surviving, I need to change myself THIS YEAR.

I don't want 2010 to be a repeat performance of my recent failings.

So, this year, I am willing to counter that laziness. This year, I am going to heal my limp spirit and put my mind on a crutch.

I'll start exercising. I swear.

And I'll study harder.

And I'll start writing again.

Twitter: My new "social" medium of choice

Not that I've started to get interested in posting my thoughts on social media once again. No way.

What I'm saying is that Twitter's a good place to practice my content-sharing abilities. It's also a good place where I can start curating things that I find interesting.

I should remind myself to never post anything personal on it from time to time, though. Especially when my follower base don't exactly consist of my IRL friends and acquaintances. And if that's the case, not everyone in my life deserves that much insight into my personal thoughts.

As much as I would like to impress other people, like my boss for instance, with my personal quips and reflective tweets, I don't think they would actually be interested, much less be impressed.

Anyway, it's all about keeping things interesting. Relevance is key if I want to keep my audience from unfollowing me.

Official policy is to keep every personal insight to this blog. Or just shut up about it so I don't risk a public leak of my otherwise-private stupidity.

The "Holy Shit! My Wallet's Fucked Up!" Post

So I just found out that I've spent 82% of my money on various shit that I didn't really need. That amount included obligations that really I can't get out of, of course, but most of the stuff I've spent on during the past 4 months I could've definitely lived without.

This will just be a short post, btw, as I'm still reeling from the shock of realizing how much my "cost of living" actually is. But basically, in 4 months, I've spent over 3k from Uber rides, 6k from buying games online (fuck), and a whole ton of other stuff that I don't really need.

Based on my calculations, on average, I spend around 17k each month, which doesn't really make any sense. Who needs 17k a month? I certainly didn't need it back then. So what the flying fuck is the deal with my expenses?

Right now I still need 85k in order for me to get my dad's car. Without that money, I won't be able to drive shit.

As much as I would love to make sure that this blog only contained the most eloquent verbosity that I can come up with, given the circumstances, I guess it could only be fair if the following word would be the last thing I typed in this evening:

Fuck. Me. Sideways. With. A. Cactus.

Okay, that was actually 6 words. And I followed it up with a whole bunch of  other words as well. But who cares at this point; I just lost 71k to nonsensical frivolities. That in itself should give me the license to swear all the way up to next Monday.

So fuck it. Fuuuuuck iiiiiit. I'm out.

Stuff I swore I'd collect someday

No intros, I'll just list them all down.

The Eraserheads Box Set - this is a no-brainer. I literally like ALL of their songs. Can't really say I'm that huge of a fan, but I am a fan, so I have to have this one. 

Chance to get: 50-50. Someone at OLX is selling one of these for 5,000 Php. I don't have that much cash on me right now, so I'll just have to hope that it doesn't get sold before I get enough cash.

All Pugad Baboy collections - from the first one to the very latest: This was a significant part of my childhood all the way to my young adulthood. If you liked Pugad Baboy enough to own even one of these, I automatically consider you as my friend.

Chance to get: Unsure, but definitely possible. I'll ask Pol Medina Jr. himself if he's still selling them by set. 

Collier's Junior Classics 1960's printing - The main reason why I'm an aspiring wordsmith today.

Chance to get: Possible, but not from within the country. Got a bunch of sellers from overseas selling in good condition. Will also cost me a pile of coin to buy.

Time-Life Mysteries of the Unknown - 1980's hard-bound printing. Same as above, except that aside from writing, this series opened my eyes to the world of the paranormal.

Chance to get: Same circumstances as above, will have to be sourced overseas.

All FHM Philippines back issues - The premiere men's magazine in the land. Owned a ton of these myself back in the day, but never got to collecting them in order. Still hit myself in the head over selling some to a friend. 

Chance to get: I don't think this one's even possible now, but I'll try to at least collect a year's worth of issues.

The Lord of the Rings + The Hobbit + The Silmarillion - same printing, doesn't matter which one, as long as they're a set. Much better if it's a box set, although I haven't seen these specific books in one.

Chance to get: Almost all Fully-Booked branches carry this, so very possible.

Harry Potter 1-7 -  the box set, naturally.

Chance to get: Same as above, pretty common.

A Song of Fire and Ice - although this one's not really worth collecting at the moment since it's still unfinished. 

Chance to get: As I'll be getting this by the time the series ends, the market should have been flooded with this by then, so it should be a piece of cake.

Other stuff that I can't name on top of my head - will add them to this list as soon as I can recall.

And then finally, A huge-ass bookshelf to store them all in one place.

Note to self

I need to make a decision about what I really want to do with my spare time.

Wait, wasn't I extremely busy with my work and studies?

Well, fortunately, my work's still there. In fact, for the most part, the past year has been all about work. So much that I, without the knowledge of my family, have decided to place my studies on "pause" for a while.

Side note: I hereby officially announce that I am once again in hiatus from college life.

I'm not exactly sure when I'd be going back to my scholastic pursuits, as there are still several factors to consider before I go back. Either way, my appetite for school is currently at an all-time low, and I need to recharge myself for a bit. And by recharge, I mean distract myself with a ton of free time.

Which is a bit of a problem, by the way, as I don't know if I have actually freed a lot of my time so far, because right now, my daily schedule is a mess. I'm supposed to sleep at 10pm every night, wake up at 5:45, start working by 6am, finish up at 1:30, and everything after that should all be free time for myself. But for several reasons, (mostly internet-based ones), I can't help but stay up late, which then leads to me waking up late and sleep-deprived the next morning. And because I lack the proper amount of sleep, I tend to take long naps in the middle of the day, usually before I'm supposed to log out of work. So at the end of the day, I've worked less efficiently and I've spent more time sleeping than I should have, which really doesn't translate into more free time.

But I digress. This is actually an easy problem to solve, especially now that I've lessened my life burdens somewhat. Once I get myself back into the proper sleep rhythm, everything should be back to normal, and then I get my free time.

Which now takes me back to my original question: Now that I am at the verge of having a lot of free time, what should I do with it?

Well, actually I already have some ideas brewing inside my head for the past couple of weeks now:

1) Start a new blog that's focused on my professional experience - I've always wanted to do some creative non-fictional writing about the things I've learned over the course of my time as a young professional. Maybe even make some money out of it through ads (and possibly youtube videos), assuming that I market my blog well through social media, and that there's an actual niche for it.

2) Start an online magazine - Since I'm already on the subject of monetizing content on the internet, might as well talk about my idea of having my own e-zine website. I'm still not sure what the main focus of the website's going to be, but I'm pretty sure it would revolve around subjects that I'm very familiar with and/or very passionate about. The site could end up as an extension or an expansion of my "professional" blog, where I could talk about tech, home-based work, and other stuff that I come across in my everyday work. Probably add in a small section for viral stuff as well.

I've also thought about opening an online men's magazine, now that FHM's shying away from "mature" stuff. My next-door neighbor's a budding photographer; we could probably team up and make our own content. Definitely not sure about this one, but I did think about it, so I'm putting it up here. Might not fit into my idea of something that can be done during my free time, though.

3) Learn day-trading - I ordered a book about day-trading in the stock market yesterday so that I can start learning about turning the stock market into a day job. I want to add day trading to my repertoire of skills as a possible contingency plan just in case everything goes wrong with my current job. I still don't have the necessary capital to begin with (I've heard I may need amounts of up to 200k to start trading), but at least I've put in the necessary intellectual capital before I start diving into it.

4) Practice driving, and possibly branch out into the transport business? - My recent experience with Uber has piqued my interest about the transportation industry, and I might end up running a transport business. I don't have any background on it, but from what I've learned, it doesn't seem too complicated.

5) Others. Will edit them in as soon as I remember them.

So there, I have a handful of plans that I have been dreaming of for some time now. Notice that most of them are inclined towards opening up additional streams of income for myself. That's because I'm 30 now, and I need to start earning money if I want to travel and see the world before my bones start creaking.

When am I going to act on them, though?

No. Freaking. Clue. Maybe once I'm done whipping my schedule back into shape?

Well, I guess for now I'll just have to leave my ideas as they are: ideas. Though, I'm writing them down in the hopes that I get to doing at least one or two of them in the very near future. I'd write this post down on a post-it and stick it on my monitor. But I'm not that kind of guy, and it would ruin the aesthetic of my current setup. So this blog post will have to do.

Note to self: read this post every day, then hit yourself with something hard. It might help.

A reply to "Telling Girls To 'Cover Up' For Boys Promotes Rape Culture"

I posted this as a comment to the article entitled "Telling Girls To 'Cover Up' For Boys Promotes Rape Culture" by Ms. Stephanie Shi of Cosmopolitan.ph.

I, for one, strongly agree that women are not supposed to be treated as sexual objects, and every man should be taught not to harass, catcall, rape, or creep upon women, regardless of what they're wearing (I do have some reservations regarding womens' fashion and exposure of skin, but that's for a different topic).

However, in our present state, where not everyone has access to proper education, especially in depressed areas, women are still at a risk of being harassed or raped by men who are uninitiated to the modern principles behind women's rights, and most of the time it's because these men can do so. No police presence to enforce these lofty ideals, nor are these criminals exposed to suppressors of sexual instinct like education and proper moral guidance.

True, exposing skin should not be a reason to be raped. Same as flaunting your money in public should not an excuse to be stolen from. However, that will only work in a perfect society where people and their thoughts are policed extremely well, where everyone's morals is calibrated with each other, and where people are free from social ills like poverty that prevent them from sublimating sexual energies into more productive activities. Until that is achieved, everyone should protect themselves before relying on society and its constructs to uphold their personal well-being.

D-Day

Finally managed to fart out a blog post that was made to actually serve the original purpose of this blog, which is to chronicle the important events in my life. Today's somewhat important, though. The reason for it is, well, for better or for worse, this day might turn out to be a huge milestone, and I definitely can't miss the opportunity to write about it, lest it escape me again.

So, well, here goes.

To make things short, basically I think my attempts at getting out of an ill-fated relationship has run into a cul-de-sac for the last time. I have found out that I am incapable of breaking an earnest heart, and for that, I might end up having to carry the burden of being said heart's caretaker for the rest of my life. 

Just to set the record straight: I have always wanted to get out the relationship with my current girlfriend, for the reason that I want to give myself another chance at getting into a proper relationship with someone who's actually compatible with my life. I'm not sure if there's a snowball's chance in hell of that happening, even if I was single in the first place, but at the very least, I want to be open to the possibility if ever that opportunity comes knocking on my door.

You might ask, what's wrong with my current girlfriend, and why isn't she compatible with my life?

Well, for one, I've dreamt of having a successful career in Accountancy and Law, and getting enough emotional support and concern are of paramount importance if I'm to achieve success in those fields. I need someone who understands that I will need my time for studying and catching up with lessons. She would also have to cope with the idea that interaction with people is inevitable, especially with that of the opposite sex. I need someone who will accept the fact that friends and a healthy social life is something normal, and that they are necessary for my success and personal well-being.

Same goes for my work. I am currently serving as a senior executive of our company's local entity, so interaction with my co-workers is something that is non-negotiable. I need someone who can live with the fact that I am contractually-obligated to make professional decisions bereft of any emotion or personal preference.

Finally, I want to be in a relationship with someone who's actually welcome in my life. I want her to be welcome in my home and be friends with my mom, my dad, and my sister. I want her to have access to my awesome man-cave and be comfortable enough to enjoy it together with me. I want her to be someone I can be proud of, someone that I can introduce to my friends and extended family. 

In short, I want her to be a good fit. I'm simple like that.

Alas, all I have is someone who loves me with all of her heart. 

She is fiercely loyal, which makes her overly-attached, and it shows in her total disregard for my studies and my work. She treats all of my professional decisions as personal ones, and looks at every contact of mine with a suspicious eye. Any social interaction with other girls she sees as absolute and utter betrayal, as she believes in the idea that any and all happiness that I may have in my life should only be shared with her, and only her. No exceptions.

The importance of time is completely thrown out of the window as well. I've spent countless hours that could have been spent on more productive matters just to dispel unproven allegations of infidelity and make sure that her extremely-low self esteem is not damaged any further. As I've said, she has the loyalty of a dog, and probably the emotional capacity of one as well. Just being with her is already an emotional roller-coaster in itself; trying to pull her out of a passionate rampage is something else entirely.

Lastly, she's totally unwelcome in our house. My family loathes her, and the very mention of her name inspires vitriol in our household. It's been more than a year since she last stepped into our house, and any update I have on my awesome room I have to show to her through pictures on my cellphone. My friends have never met her, save for my best friend, and she has yet to meet up with my classmates, the likelihood of which is extremely low, given the fact that she's already alienated herself through her anthropophobic tendencies. As far as anyone in my life is concerned, she is unwelcome.

I do love her, there's no doubt about that. I've always loved her. However, that alone can't possibly justify staying in a relationship that pretty much kills my chance at a good, vanilla-flavored life. I may not have been a very good boy, but I think everyone deserves to be in a relationship that doesn't require extreme sacrifice.

But since I'm incapable of breaking her heart, I am forced to become a willing victim of emotional blackmail. I think I will have to stay by her side indefinitely.

I'm not sure what the future holds for me, her, and the both of us. I'm not sure if I'm actually strong enough to go through the entire process of being with her for the sake of doing so. It's actually quite ironic, as I will have to break other hearts (like my mom's) just to make sure hers doesn't break. But at this point, it seems I have no choice.

All I can do at this point is to pray that there is a God, and that he has a plan for us all. 

If I hate you, there's an unpublished blog draft for that.

I just realized I have a ton of drafts saved in this blog that I haven't had the will to publish yet. Most of them are unfiltered thoughts that I simply can't get to sharing as of the moment. 

Maybe someday, when everyone in my life's old and detached enough to be unaffected by my writings will I share them. But, then again, I might not be able to recall the feelings that I felt when I had those thoughts, and I might not be able to convey those experiences as well as I could have if done in hindsight. I guess that's the reason why I put this blog up in the first place; as a repository of my unfiltered thoughts and experiences, where I can store anything and everything at the very moment when I had them. Writing about things in uninspired retrospect defeats the very purpose of this blog. 

And yet I hesitate. Because I am aware of the fact that this is still the Internet. Public domain. My blog may not be as permeating as Facebook, but people can still access this website and peruse my words. Words that might get used against me one day.

So these potentially-inflammatory will have to stay where they are at the moment; in the relatively-safe confines of my unpublished drafts. But if in case you're interested, here are some of the things you can expect from my drafts:

1) If I hate you, there's a draft for that.

2) If you're a crush of mine, there's definitely a draft for that. A very wordy one.

3) Socio-political commentary that I feel like I'm not qualified enough to blurt out.

4) Other emo stuff that are too depressing for even the internet.

That's pretty much it so far. I expect the number of my unpublished posts to increase in the following months, as I face a ton of frustration and failure in my continuing journey towards self-actualization. So, if there's anyone who actually follow this blog (highly doubtful, but we'll see), well, tough luck I guess?

Vicarious

I don't have any particular agenda in life as of the moment. I'm no patriot, nor am I an activist. I am not an artist of any kind. There are no strong passions stirring inside my chest. So there really is no reason for me to "go out there and do it", because there's no "it".

The only thing I have going for me right now are my work and my studies, which are pretty much normal for everybody. Unless you're an outstandingly-disadvantaged individual who was born in a cesspool of poverty, you don't really choose an education nor a relatively well-paying job as an advocacy in life.

For all intents and purposes, I am quite free to do whatever I wish to do.

And yet I am being held back from living the life I want by forces that are yet known to me.

Laziness? Probably, but I've been known to rise up from my lethargy from time to time whenever I find a very good reason to do so.

Lack of confidence? Yep, could be. But when it comes to the more important things in life, I have managed to overcome my low self-esteem (or, at least, make it seem like I have).

Maybe it's because I'm in a "relationship"?

Maybe.

Either way, all I can do at this point is to sit in front of a screen and watch life from within the spectrum of pornography known as the internet. Watch crazy-gorgeous women doing random stuff while being half-naked. Watch guys kiss and hang out with the same crazy-gorgeous women. Watch rich people flaunt their material wealth by buying the best cars and collecting all the best toys. Watch not-so-rich people flaunt whatever wealth they have left by going places and making it seem like they're rich. Watch a gay friend "live the life" from behind the curtain of perfectly-captured photos. Watch other people kiss and get married and swim in the myopic fantasy of being THE couple. Watch kids half my age reach for the stars, knowing they'll burn out as soon as reality catches up with them, but still envy them for their youthful naivete.

Watch. All while sitting here in my lazy chair, gathering lard under my skin.

I'm fucked. And I'm only turning 30 next year.

Still in crisis, and I'm loving it

I'm pretty sure I've already written about how much I've been trying to avoid any discussion of the social or political kind, mostly because I'm not properly equipped to be involved in such, but I've already forgotten where I put that damn post. Oh well.

Anyway, this is merely a reaffirmation of my previously-stated stand on political/social issues and/or current social trends: I don't have any particular stand on anything, I don't take sides, or, at the very least, I am inhibiting myself from being a part of one.

I may have some ideas and thoughts about such issues, brewing inside this tiny brain of mine. But they're all underdone due to the fact that my education in these issues is only as much as the amount of relevant information that a glance on Facebook or a quick read on some news site can provide, which happen to be very inadequate for the purpose of having a meaningful discussion of said issues.

Now, I am fully aware that since I am a part of this society and a citizen of this country, I am somewhat responsible for taking part in the public exchange of ideas in order show that I actually care about what's happening. Also, even though I may not seem like it, I do care about our society in general, since, at the end of the day, everything that's happened within our country will eventually find itself into my life, and of course I would want to be prepared for when that happens. So yes, I am compelled, through the awareness of my responsibility towards society and the concern for my personal well-being, to learn about these national issues, read about them, and talk about them with other people who actually care about these things. It is a responsibility, to myself and to others, there's no doubt about it.

And make no mistake, I do want to get involved. I do fancy the idea that there are some things in this society that I think will improve a little bit (or a lot, depending on whether or not you'd agree with me), if only I was allowed to add my own personal touch to them. Yes, sometimes I do like thinking about the things I could try to do to fix this nation and the people within it.

So there, I do want to join in.

But, well, to give you the short version of things, I'm just too preoccupied with my own goddamn life to worry about things like politics and social issues.

I currently have two major responsibilities in my life right now: my work and my schooling, both of which need my full-time attention, which is already a burden in itself. So that already eliminates the possibility of me trying to read up on relevant social issues, because I simply do not have any time for it.

Aside from my own unavailability, another huge reason for me to not participate is that there are people out there who are way, way more qualified than I am to talk about these things, and that they usually don't like associating with me in particular.

Strange reason, yes, but let me explain in detail.

For starters, whenever I finally get the chance to read up on social issues, they're usually articles or social media posts written by people who happen to be within my own social circles. Not exactly people that I can call friends, though, as most of them find it below themselves to consider me as worthy of their company, but I have been acquainted with them somehow. Anyway, whenever I attempt to insert a thought into their conversations, I end up getting rebuffed, usually in a very harsh, condescending manner, probably because I sound stupid, or because the topic at hand is way out of my depth.

I've had one too many experiences of that sort in the past, and because of this I guess I've become party to our country's so-called "culture of ignorance", which is basically the tendency of "ordinary" people like me to shy away from intellectual discussion, usually expressed through the phrase, "andami mong alam!". This is mainly because almost all intelligent people that I know of are, well, dicks. From my own point of view, they all seem like intellectual elitist assholes who usually brush off the opinion of small people like me without even trying to consider the context of our opinion and the circumstances behind our inability to express our ideas as well as they can. So, for me, these supposedly all-encompassing social issues become the private realm of these stuck-up intellectuals, an invitation-only gentleman's club of elitist douche bags, and we are all left behind to simmer in our own soup of mediocrity. For people like me, we just end up going after the more personally relevant things, like being successful at our own jobs and our own lives, because we've been pushed away from the discourse.

Now I know that by saying I'm going to leave the more important issues to the smarter guys, it's gonna mean that I would have no choice but to surrender myself to wherever their intellectual revolution might take all of us. Well, in a way, I guess that's true. And it's not like I had any choice in the first place, since I'm too inept to be of any significance to any kind of intellectual discourse. As far as I'm concerned, what's important is that their tentacles do not approach the narrow bubble of space that is my own personal life. I could care less about what they do as long as I'm left alone to my own devices.

The last major reason for my non-participation is that, well, I'm still in the middle of my own existential crisis, hence the title of this blog. All the power that my limited mental capacities can muster are all focused on the questions of my own existence. My own purpose. Ultimately, my stances on religion, politics, society, and all that good stuff will all depend on my own moral compass and my own principles, which, at this point, are still under construction, so to speak.

So basically what I'm saying is, fuck the society for now. Eventually, I'll be a bit more mature about things, and I'll be more read up about stuff, and when that time comes, the public sphere can eat me whole, for all I care. But for now, I have more important things to take care of, so y'all will just have to catch me later, when I'm a little more prepped up for the talk.

A reaction to the movie "Her"

I don't think I'll be able to recover from the melancholy that this movie has left me in any time soon.

I feel like I just took a huge hit in the gut. I'm all out of breath, and I still can't get up from the emotional roller coaster that this movie has dragged me through.

Jealousy. Frustration. Misery. Sexual Intimacy. All in a visually-stunning package.

Damn this movie for making me feel this way.

Why I need to stop posting on Facebook

OR: why it sucks to know that a 16-year-old's got more wisdom than me.

I was on the verge of posting a video of Amon Amarth on my Facebook wall. Their song "Father of the Wolf" was pretty awesome, and even though I'm not an actual fan of the metal genre, I really liked the entire song, especially the guitar solo part and the music video (which I believe is there not to be the superficial marketing part, but as an actual part of the song's presentation). So much that I wanted to shout to the world that I am a hardcore metalhead by posting the video on Facebook, just for the sake of showing that I AM am that hardcore.

I want to be hardcore. Because it's cool to be hardcore. People go to certain lengths just to be seen as hardcore, even though they've never held a guitar in their lives.

But, then again, I need to stop being so pretentious. I know I'm not hardcore. For chrissakes, I'm studing to become a four-eyed accountant right now. I spend entire weeks sitting alone in front of my computer, playing video games and watching Japanese porn. So, even though I still don't have the answer to the question of who I really am, at the very least, I do know who and what I'm not. And right now, I can pretty much say for certain that I am not a metalhead.

So, yeah, I ended up not posting the video, because I realized that by doing so, I will just begin to pretend once more. At the end of the day, it's all too easy to pretend on Facebook. All it takes is a few strokes of a keyboard, and anybody can be anyone they want to. It's easy to control your image if you're behind a screen. 

It's also quite sad to realize that a classmate of mine, a 16-year-old teenage girl, actually knows this better than I do. Well, it was actually a bit ironic because I saw her post this on her Facebook wall. But, if you actually think about it, I don't she'd post that particular aphorism if she actually felt guilty of such a sin. That, or she's just another idiot posting stuff blindly on the internet. 

Well, either way, it doesn't really take anything away from the truth value of what she's said. So what I'm going to do is I'm gonna follow that wisdom from now on. From now on, I'm not going to post anything that might misconstrue my identity on Facebook. No more pretending.

So I guess this is my goodbye to posting on Facebook.

But only to posting on Facebook, or any other social media websites. There's still a ton of entertainment to be squeezed out of these online platforms, like playing Dawn of the Dragons, ogling pictures of celebrities in skimpy outfits, catching up on the latest buzz on the internet, and of course, watching other pretentious people fail at their own lives and make a fool out of themselves. 

Schadenfreude is a beautiful word. 

Seeing red. And some other random thoughts.

Ah, the first post for the new year that is 2014. Let me begin this entry with a bit of self-betrayal: I promised myself that I would dedicate the year's first post to a recap of the past year's events. Unfortunately, I had been taken over once again by the bane of all academe: procrastination (and her twin sister, laziness), so I'll have to defer the recap to another time. Also, today's events were quite special in their own unique way, and I would like to have them locked into writing for posterity's sake. Just in case I run into something like today again. Or, at least, ensure that I learn something out of the chaos that I have found myself in.

Random thought #1: I think I ended that last sentence with a preposition. Gahd, my grammar has been rusty as of late. Same thing with my pronunciation. Hell, even my vocabulary's taken a hit, recently. Looks like I'll need to brush up on my English again, for the sake of keeping myself sharp, skill-wise.

Okay, that was a runaway brain fart. But if I'm gonna try and achieve this posterity thing, I'll have to get used to catching random thoughts on the fly.

So, anyway, without further ado, here are the random thoughts and things that have ran through my head recently:

Aggression:
Seems that I've gotten a ton of this today, all without any kind of intentional provocation from my end. People just end up getting angry while in my presence. Like my accounting professor, for instance. I have no idea why he's giving me low grades, but I'm pretty sure he does it on purpose. He had absolutely no reason to give me a low (albeit passing) score on that homework. Everything balanced, I had the same results as my classmates who got perfect marks, hell, I even made sure that my paper was as clean as it can be. That alone took a lot of effort on my part. And yet, despite all that, I only got fair marks on that homework. With absolutely no explanation or indication of what caused that kind of score. SMH. And the worst thing about this situation is that I can't really complain about it. Otherwise, I'll just find myself in open conflict with the very person who holds sway over the fate of my very grades.

That's one confrontation I would definitely want to avoid, if I am to achieve my goals of becoming an accountant.

Another instance of hostility I experienced today was that from a classmate of mine. Well, to be fair, she was indeed pissed off at something, I had no idea what it was. All I knew then was that, whatever her damage was, it couldn't possibly be a reason for her to lash out at someone like me. We weren't that close, in the first place.. well, okay, maybe, I am trying to "appeal" to her clique of girls, but all because I needed to build my network of connections within the campus. Friends are always useful in any kind of situation. And no ulterior motives, of course. I'm more than a decade older than these girls, so it would definitely be weird if I got close to them. I'm just being pragmatic is all I'm saying. Anyway, she and I are friendly enough to converse and be mildly funny and all, but not close enough to be totally buddy-buddy with each other. So I didn't really expect that she'd be "comfortable" enough to shed her compliance to the rules of general civility and actually repel me with a "That's not very funny" line when I attempted to cheer her up. To me, that's a huge red alert, since that means I've already crossed my own boundaries and exposed myself to her, them, and to their world of social circles. Which is something that I absolutely want to avoid getting myself tangled into. As far as I'm concerned, I'm just there to study. I have no plan of getting involved with their teenage drama stuff or becoming an actual object of their conversations and emotions. That is not part of my plan.

Biggest one, of course, would be from my girlfriend. Getting pissed off at my Facebook activities has become her favorite hobby as of late. All for the tiniest of reasons, if they can even be considered as valid. Like me following this FHM model, liking that classmate's status, stuff like that. We could be fighting over more serious stuff, like me actually trying to cheat with another girl, me trying to run off with her money. Anything. But no, she had to choose the route of peeving over a bevy of imaginary threats made up of FHM models, 16-year-old teenagers, and co-workers who live miles away from where I am. Babe, if you're reading this, I have one thing to say: set your priorities straight. I am not cheating.

Some other minor stuff of aggression include this morning's jeepney ride. Driver got pissed off at a kid who got off without paying. Dude riding in the front got pissed off at the driver for not cutting the kid some slack. Driver got pissed off more and started a small verbal battle with the dude in front. No idea how it ended as I had already gotten off the jeepney in the middle of the situation. Another one would be while I was walking my dog through the subdivision. A girl got pissed off at me for staying in front of her house a little too long, since she thought I was letting my dog urinate on their fence. Which wasn't really happening of course.

Add to that my long-standing animosity towards the two idiots over at my work, and you have my day's menu of hot, angry steam.

Good thing my sister was at work today. It could have been worse, haha.

Money (and my job):
Well, this one's always been in my head since I started working. It has been a bigger object of my thoughts recently, though, mainly because of my obsession over my PC project. If I were to guess on an estimate, I'd say my projects about 50 to 60 percent complete. I still have a long way to go with the parts that I need, so if I'm going to finish this project, I'll have to make sure that I maintain the status quo with regards to my job. Otherwise, I'll have delays.

The Daily Grind:
I'm starting to feel it. The topics at school are starting to ramp up, and the professors are gaining momentum with their tasks. My grades aren't exactly in top shape, either, so I'll have to step my game up beginning now.

I wish summer would come a bit sooner, though. I need a vacation.

Writing:
Not sure if I want to tackle this one right now, but I'll chip a thought in for later: Can I consider myself as a writer, since I've been writing on my blogs for a long time? I think the answer to that would be no. Technically, a writer is someone who writes for a living, and that's not what I do. My blogging is more of a personal thing, and I'm not really offering my "work" to an audience for consumption. But at the same time, I don't mind keeping this blog open to the public. Just keeping it open, not sharing it, that's the thing. I'm not trying to create or present art, either. It just is and that's why this is called a "Weblog", it's a log of stuff posted on the web. It's not for anybody, but it's open to everybody. Like a park. Or the facade of my own house. Something like that. I'll have this one pinned down eventually.

Health and fitness:
I often say that I currently have no time for such endeavors, but in reality, it's more of a will issue. I can definitely make room for an hour-long exercise session, but recently, I've been so lazy about stuff, especially exercise. To be honest, I've started feeling various (mostly painful and uncomfortable) sensations all around my body, and even though I really want to fix these potential problems, I've done nothing to contribute towards that end. Maybe someday I'll end up regretting not doing anything about my health, but I really don't want to come to that point. I need to do something. Now. While I'm still in my twenties.

The future (and how uncertain everything is):
Just a few things about my anxiety over the future. Everything's still so uncertain, and yet here I am, betting on my own plans and hoping for the best. Well, I guess that's the reason why I'm so anxious; I hate betting on anything. If I'm gonna be part of anything, I would prefer it to be a bit more certain. Also, there are some things that I'm still not sure about. I hope I can get to resolve these particular issues before the year ends. I'm not getting any younger, and the window of opportunity is starting to close up, so I'd have to close things now before that window closes.

Well, that's about it. A bit constipated, but that's to be expected from someone who should be blogging regularly about things.

Lesson for the day: Limits, limits, limits. Be aware of your limits.

So it's the end of another year.

I'm supposed to make a rundown of the past year's events, and how significant they had been to my life.

However, it just so happened that my writing faculties have decided to take a leave of absence for the time being. 

And so I will have to do this rundown later, when I'm actually in a more awake state. 

Anyway, goodbye, 2013. Thanks for letting me live past you, with all the crazy bus rides and dark alleyways that I had to go through during your time. Thank you for allowing me to live long enough to see 2014. Thank you for giving me all the opportunities, may they be ones that I actually took advantage of or ones that I let slip by. Either way, thank you. 

I hope 2014 does me the same favors as you did. 

A sudden case of melancholy

I don't really know what's happening. I just came from what many would call "a good time" with some so-called "new-found friends" of mine. I spent a good amount of cash, we hung out, shared some awkward silences, and some not-so awkward ones, but overall, everything was good.

Technically.

All the laughs were present. The smiles, the small talk, and the exchange of pleasant sentiments were there as well. So, technically, I had a good time. 

And yet, I'm still here, typing in front of my computer with a relentless sense of dissatisfaction. Sitting with one leg raised on my desk, like I was bored as all hell.

Maybe it was because the food wasn't that great. I've gone to that particular buffet-style restaurant one time too many, and even though it's a complete haven for serving all my favorite food, its novelty might have rubbed off me already. 

Or probably it was the surreal experience of trying to interacting with familiar-yet-not-so-much people in a very unnatural manner of familiarity. We already know so much about each other, yet today was the first time that we've actually seen each other's faces. And now we're all trying to be familiar with each other, since the emotional investment's already there. It's like trying to buy real things with play money. 

Or maybe it was the entire setup itself. I had to take charge of gathering everybody, think up the location and all the other details, and actually travel to that far-flung location just to make sure that this event really happened. I'm not used to being the center of any kind of arrangement, and so to be responsible for the success of a small get-together did stress me out a little bit. 

It's probably one of those reasons. 

Or it might just be because I was dissatisfied with the turnout. Failed expectations do tend to let me down the most. Of what that expectation was, I cannot really say, nor am I in the place to say it. 

But in any case, if there's somebody to blame for my dissatisfaction, it would actually be me. For expecting something that shouldn't and wouldn't really happen in the first place. One look at the mirror, and it's already enough to dispel any sense of entitlement in me. I am not worthy.

So I guess the only way for me to beat this melancholy down is to just forget about everything and carry on like nothing happened. No use trying to labor in the attempt of achieving something that's out of reach in the first place. 

So much for Communism and its promise of equality. 

The dying moments of a green-eyed monster

Okay.

So there was a friend of mine (well, not really an actual "friend" of mine, but not a total acquaintance either.. let's just say we don't get to meet each other often) whom I've heard has just moved up in the world of BPO. My best buddy just told me a while ago that she apparently got promoted to an Operations Manager, or something equally awesome. Which, to me, is, like, a very, very big deal. Yes, the call center industry isn't that great, being the glorified sweatshop that it is, and though working as a call center agent is a decent way to earn a living, it's not the kind of job that most people would look up to as a profession worthy of respect. However, to those who are aware of the draconian systems of control and the inhuman productivity expectations that plague the industry, moving up by even just a half-notch in the chain of promotion is already a great accomplishment, considering that it would already require superhuman determination and effort just to get noticed among the hundreds of faces that register in the eyes of the higher-ups, and that sometimes, the reward for exerting that much effort into your work isn't that rewarding, to say the least. So to move all the way up to the top levels of management.. well, that's already saying something.

I guess she deserved it anyway, if you think about it. She did stick to that company all throughout the different highs and lows for, hmm, I dunno, several years? Which I believe is already an accomplishment in itself. So yeah, I guess she did deserve it. Congratulations to her, and I honestly wish her the very best.

Wait, what? Me? Congratulating somebody else on a job well done? Did I really just say that?

Whoa.

No, really, for the first time in my life, I wasn't totally green with envy. She was a friend. Not a very close one, yes, but a friend, nonetheless. And even though I didn't really think that much of her as a person, I still managed to find it in myself to be a bit happy about her accomplishment. Which is a really big surprise for me, because I usually flare up whenever I hear success stories from people whom I think didn't really deserve it. I used to hate it whenever somebody whom I underestimated before suddenly becomes successful for some reason.

Why?

Because I was plagued with what most people call as "crab mentality".

I hate to admit it, but yeah, I was that kind of person. I used to criticize people a lot. The success of others really irked me a lot back then for some reason, and I never even realized that I was doing it because I was really good at justifying my point, especially when it was about the failings of other people. I really liked pointing out reasons for not being too happy about somebody's success, because, well, I felt good about it. Especially when that person was close to me, like a friend or something, because I feel like I was still in the game with them if I believed that they weren't that much ahead of me. I felt like I was not being left behind because I am so good at leading myself to believe that we were all still swimming in the same lake of misery. Or, at least, that's what I thought.

Well, they say that kind of inclination can be found in people who are unsuccessful in their own endeavors. Looking back, yeah, that's probably the reason why I was like that. Back then, I was a miserable shell of a man who withdrew from the world that beat him down to submission. I've always kept on looking for ways to try to climb out of the hole that I was in, even if it meant trying to pull the others who were above me. I was a wreck.

So I was actually surprised at myself when I realized that, hey, I wasn't totally envious or critical of my friend's success this time. The story of her potentially earning four times as much as me didn't shake me that much, or make me raise an eyebrow over the thought of her, a person that I underestimated, was now somebody's boss . I was a 100% sure that I was totally and honestly happy for her in a tiny little way. Yes, I was that surprised.

What does that mean?

Am I starting to have a better sense of security in myself? Am I now turning into a more adjusted kind of individual? Is everything starting to be okay now?

Well, I can't really say for certain. I'm still nowhere near my goals (hmm.. goals.. I'll have to remember to write something about that later), and I don't think that I already have the level of respect that I'm looking for from the people whose opinions matter to me. Most of all, I still feel like what I'm currently in right now is merely an upturn in my wheel of life. I'm still kind of expecting that downward phase to come in any day by now.

Nevertheless, there's this small part in me that's starting to look upwards. Even if this may prove to be just another upward turn in my wheel, I'm starting to feel like I'm going towards the right direction this time.

And maybe because I've started to realize the fact that pulling everybody slower won't make me run any faster that I've lessened the hate towards other peoples' success. Learning my place in the world by accepting the fact of my own weakness didn't hurt as well.

I guess I'm on the right track now. Not quite there yet, but at least I'm on my way.

Hopefully.

Well, I honestly hope that my friend's success continues. And, who knows, maybe someday I'll have that same level of success as she had. Not that I want to go back to working as a call center agent of course. To just be there and say that I got there on my own is what I meant.

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.