Thursday, December 08, 2005
hey all, this blog is officially dead. :) if you want to continue reading my rants and stuff, go to blurredlights.livejournal.comyeah. :)
Posted by confidence man at 8.12.05
Monday, May 09, 2005
click herea friend shared this link, and now I'm sharing it with you.
I've never shared my problems--my real problems--with anyone because I don't want to burden people. Why? Because most of the time, the person you're sharing your problem with, has a bigger problem than yours.
For the last couple of years, I tried to change. Because of my way of thinking, I never let anyone in. Not even my family. So I wanted to change. I started telling some people some of my problems. The little ones. The unimportant ones. Yet they were important, because they connected me with other people.
A couple of months ago, something happened that really brought me down. And though, after the initial breakdown, I told everyone I'm fine--I wasn't. Last month, I went further down in depression. Until my friend gave this link. Now, I'm not depressed.
I'm not happy either, but the more important thing is: I'm no longer depressed on how unfair life is to me. Or how everything seems to be turned against me. You know why? Because life is unfair for everyone. And the world isn't just against me--it's against everyone. Why should I feel sorry for myself when everyone feels the same way? And reading these secrets shared by anonymous people helped me see that.
And though I'm far from being "okay", I am okay.
Posted by confidence man at 9.5.05
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
Posted by confidence man at 12.4.05
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
MOODEven before I came to study at Ateneo de Manila, I already knew what organization I wanted to join. Writing had always been the love of my life (might be why I’m still single, but let’s save that for another story), so I was determined to get into the staff of a literary folio. Back then, I thought that once you were part of the folio, you automatically get published. Enter Heights.
The recruitment week that year was held on the last week of my first month at Ateneo. If the sudden change of scenery and the barrage of new names and faces I have to remember wasn’t enough to drive me mad, then recruitment week would’ve done me in. It was a good thing that I was already crazy. On the first day, I looked for the Heights’ stall. I found it and was instantly asked by two bubbly girls which staff I wanted to join. My heart (or rather, my head) swelled. I told them I wanted to join the english staff.
That day, I visited the high school I graduated from. Since there were classes during that time (the joys of being a college student, and going home early), I wasn’t allowed to loiter. I ended up talking with the school paper advisor, and I told her about Heights. She told me that from the spiel I was given, I might fit better with the production staff. Why? I asked. That’s when she told me that what I used to do for our school paper, and for our yearbook, were the things a production staff member does. The next day, I signed up for that too.
I tanked the interview--both of them. I used to have this thing, when talking with new people, where I get intimidated and my head just goes blank... and basically, I start talking gibberish. That was what happened during the interview for the english staff, and the interview for the production staff. That was why, when the results were released, I wasn’t just mildly surprised that I got in the production staff. I was ecstatic. There’s always the next year for the english staff.
But by the time the second semester started, I didn’t even know if I’m still going to be part of Heights the following year. I hadn’t been attending the meetings, and I was too intimidated by these literary people. But having no other organizations, I swore that I’d do better--so I could stay in Heights.
When I received the text message telling us of the next Production staff meeting, I went. That was the only meeting I had attended that year, and they wanted everyone to sell tickets to Universes, a Heights poetry-reading. I was so sure that I wouldn’t get in Heights again. If there was something I was definitely bad at, it was at marketing. I’m not good with money. Fortunately for me, I had block mates.
The event was the first poetry-reading I’ve been to. But before that, I sweated my ass off by hauling large pieces of chairs and other heavy things that I can no longer remember. That was when I met Jillaine Lanuza--future Editor-in-Chief. We were both just production staff members then, and all I could remember of her was that she was really friendly, and though she was a girl, she didn’t have any complaints about hauling heavy things.
After Universes, I didn’t attend meetings again. I focused on my Filipino 12 class, because I was having a hard time with it—and my grades were slipping. I thought it was the end of my stint in Heights. I was so wrong.
It was during summer vacation when I received the text message from Jillaine (Jilly) about re-applying for Heights. She had just been appointed Secretary-General, and there were some things that were needed to be done during the summer break. I figured I wouldn’t lose anything, so I went to school and did as I was told. Who would’ve guessed that I would be part of the editorial board during my third year in college?
I hold my second year in college as my best year. There were “events” that had happened throughout the year, but it only served to make me a better person. At least, I hope so. It was during that year that I started managing my time between my studies and Heights. I even had a short stint working for Tanghalang Ateneo, and an even shorter one with the Comic Collective. I eventually let the other two organizations go, sticking only with Heights. Every time something needed to be done, I was there--to the point that Jilly (or Den, the Deputy Secretary-General that year) would tell me that I shouldn’t do everything. They were the ones who nominated me for a position in the office of the Secretary-General.
Someone else actually congratulated me before I found out about it. When I found out that Den was named the Secretary-General, and that it would either be Raph (my running mate) or I could be the deputy, I already assumed that it would be Raph who would be deputy. I was wrong.
From the panicky boy from the first year, to the hard-working staffer in the second year—I’ve really gone a long way. I’m not saying that the changes I’ve gone through were all because of Heights. It’s not. Heights just helped in bringing out my self-confidence--by trusting me.
Note: I wrote this for my non-fiction seminar class, during the school year of '04 - '05. Reading this now... apparently, they don't trust me that much.
Posted by confidence man at 23.3.05
Saturday, February 19, 2005
MOOD
contemplative“Was it you who spoke the words that, things would happen but not to me…” That’s how the song “You and I Both” begins, and that one line pretty much sums up my life for the past seven years. I’m never the one who’s the center of attention; I’m always the supporting actor who prods the story to move forward for the main characters. Not that I mind, because who would want to be scrutinized by people. I, certainly, don’t.
People tend to destroy lives, before putting them back together. Just look at FPJ. He was idolized by the people; he was one of the strongest candidates for presidency. And then, people started doubting his capabilities—not that there’s any; then, people started doubting his citizenship—they doubted him. That was before he croaked. As if nothing happened, the people who doubted him are now calling him a hero. He’s treated with the highest respect, not just by the common people now; he’s defended by the people who could care less during the cutthroat elections; he’s loved again. What happened? Why the sudden switch?
It’s not just FPJ. I’ve been to numerous funerals. Every single time, when it comes to paying respects and eulogies, you’ll never hear anything bad about the deceased. It’s always one Samaritan act here, one honest act there—the deceased was a freaking saint! Then, why not just build a monument for the deceased? I’m sure the church would take care of the expenses; after all, it’s for a saint.
During my mother-side grandmother’s memorial service, everyone was quiet. If anyone gave a eulogy, I probably didn’t understand because most of the people there were speaking Chinese—and I’m the Chinese who’s not fluent in speaking that particular language. Anyway, back in point, no one was still able to say anything bad about her. My mother, though she loved her mother, never liked being restricted by my grandmother when she was young. Before my grandmother died, she would tell us about her rebellion back in the days. She’d say that the reasons why she wasn’t as strict with us, was because she didn’t want us to turn out like her: always ready for a good time without thinking of the consequences. And then, grandma died. Suddenly, my mother never brought up the topic of her upbringing again, except for one time or another when she would mention that it was a good thing that she was raised well by my grandmother. Even with that though, she’s still lenient with me and my siblings—probably in fear that we would turn out like her.
I get that we need to believe some things—that in the end, it’s what the best is for us. But sometimes, isn’t it better to just be honest? I never knew my other grandmother because she died when I was really young. In our house, though, I’ve never heard anything about her. Sure, sometimes my parents would tease each other and my mom would kid about my other grandmother being a tyrant—but that’s the farthest it’s gone. No one could really say how my grandmother was, when she was still alive. She probably wasn’t very nice, if people can’t even answer questions like: “What was she like when she was still with us?”
Talking about my grandmothers, I can’t help but remember a story my friend, Zara, told me some years ago. Her favorite aunt had died and wanted to be cremated so her ashes could be scattered by a mountain cliff. Now, this aunt was supposedly a very fun person, who always makes sure that everyone around her was sincerely smiling. But then, this was a funeral—no one would be smiling in a funeral. So when they opened the urn to scatter her ashes, wind blew the ashes towards the people there. I never really thought it was funny, probably because I wasn’t there, but my friend told me it was hilarious. Everyone had started laughing as they dusted the ashes off their clothes. Even in death, Zara’s aunt made sure no one was sad.
It makes for an interesting comparison. What Zara’s story told me was that if you’re a good person; no one would need to say anything about your accomplishments. The fact that there were a lot of people with you at your resting place was already proof of a good life. But the funerals I’ve been too have always been solemn affairs wherein most of the guests were asked to come, or felt that they were required to come and pay their respects.
I don’t think there’s any question as to what kind of funeral I’d want to have, or what everyone would want to have, actually. Being a bit player in the show called life, I’d think that I can have the happy funeral I want—after all, most people like sidekicks better than the heroes, right?
Posted by confidence man at 19.2.05
Saturday, January 01, 2005
MOOD
happy
It's already more than a year since I created an account in Blogger, and a couple of years more than that since I started blogging. I can actually remember when I started blogging: the first April after I have graduated from college. What started out as something fun to do, it quickly evolved into life updates by the time I started college.
My reason then was because I was tired of people asking how I was. They can read about my days, weeks and months on my geocities. For a year, I kept it up--random updates about what I was doing, how I was feeling--and then, the inevitable happened. Someone asked me why I just didn't sign up for livejournal. During my first year of blogging, I was proud of my web work. I definitely didn't want to move to livejournal because updating my website is fun. The fact that it's fully customizable is a plus. Almost another year passed, and then Ragnarok happened.
It was Kae who invited me over to blogger. She created a Ragnarok community blog, but I would have to sign up to be able to post. Seeing as I would still continue my life updates on my geocities, I signed up. After all, all my blogger posts would only consist of Ragna-rants. That was a year ago: December 2003. By March of 2004, I was trying to find new ways to design my geocities. The contents I wanted to put up were all unfinished, and I was constantly finding faults in my designs.
A few Block E people had signed up for a livejournal. On the 21st of that month, I caved in. On my first post, I said that I would only post there if I'm too tired to update my geocities. A month later, the geocities account was forgotten.
When August rolled around, I posted over at my geocities that the site will forever be dead. At least, until I get my own domain and then it shall be revived again. During this time, certain people started migrating to Blogger. On the 11th of September, I followed. The first 11 posts were mainly cross-posts. This, of course, was tiring. What I did in the end, was make each blog exist for different purposes.
My livejournal account continues to be the blog where I usually post updates about my life, thoughts and reflections, and all that jazz. And my blogger account? Since the 20th of November, this has been a blog for short essays, that are no where near publishing quality, but are still stress-relieving enough that I continue to post. After all, aside from the fact that this is therapheutic, practice also makes perfect.
Posted by confidence man at 1.1.05
Sunday, December 12, 2004
MOOD
crushed
I couldn't be happier / Simply, couldn't be happier / Well, not simply / Because getting your dreams, it's strange but it seems / A little, well, complicated / There's a sort-of a kind-of: cost / There's some couple of things get lost / There are bridges you cross you didn't know you've crossed until you cross / And if that joy, that thrill / Doesn't thrill like you think it will / Still, with this perfect finale, the cheers and the ballyhoo / Who wouldn't be happier? / So, I couldn't happier / Because happy is what happens when all your dreams come true / Well? Isn't it? / Happy is what happens when your dreams come true
There is so much good happening in my life, mixed in with the bad of course, that I can't help wondering why I don't feel happy. I mean, shouldn't I be happy? True, it seems life is always clouded over with darkness, but the silver lining always lights up everything. I mean, I only have a few people I can truly consider as my friends, but all of them are wonderful and I wouldn't trade them just to have more friends. My family's not rich, and we do have money problems, but we get by still. In fact, I can still buy some luxuries once in a while, like books or DVDs. And right now, I'm nearly tearing my hair out because of two very slacker-like groupmates, but in exchange I have three other group mates who are truly hardworking. And those are just part of my iceberg's tip.
So why am I not happy?
Happy is what happens, when your dreams come true.
But, aren't my dreams coming true? I wouldn't want to be in any other course than the one I am in now. I am part of a wonderful organization, though a bit elitist. I have people who like me and trust me, though I don't know if I'm truly worthy of their trust. I have a bright future ahead of me, and my family knows that I can be whoever I want to be. I'm given opportunities that aren't available for everyone.
So why am I not happy?
Am I dreaming someone else's dream? Do people see me as someone else, and not as the real me? Is the future that my family sees for me, not really for me but for someone else? Am I stealing somebody else's future? Are these what's making me--not happy?
I've always believed that the people who come into our lives also shape us as our lives intersect. I know I wouldn't be a writer now if it weren't for people like Angelica who supported what I wrote, who never tired to listen to my stories. I know I wouldn't be in Ateneo if it weren't for my high school friends and the secrets we kept from each other driving me to study where none of them were. I know a lot of these things in my life that had happened not because I wanted it to, though that played a part, but because of other people.
So is that why I'm not happy? Because the road I paved for myself is a road I paved because of other people? Haven't I already started paving my own road when I left the people I was once connected to behind? But then again, the first thing I had done in college was look for the people who were most like my high school friends. Not an exact replacement, but something to remind of the people I left. And in a way, they became the people who paved my road with me.
Is the road I'm paving going to end up to the land of happiness? Or is it true what a teacher once told our class: happiness happens once in a while, but joy stays forever. Or something along those lines. So should I look for joy instead?
Posted by confidence man at 12.12.04