Bittersweet of a Hopeless Romantic

Not only am I living a high school life, I am making the most out of it with tingles and everything.

Ironically, I never had this opportunity during high school, because everything I did back then was about food and studies, and flipping it the other way around. There was the occasional crush feeling, but it ends right even before it starts.

At my age now, you expect me to be married and having kids of my own. But at 30, the testosterone is even higher than before.

To simply put things into their own perspective, the occasional crush feeling back in high school, it now has its own fairy tale.

Truth be told, my being introvert does not help in making it fantasy than it is funny.

There is this girl, who I saw around the company, a new hire, a fledgling. We often get that awkward stare at each other, then when its done, it's as if routinary for the both of us, not that we were able to confirm the mutuality of it. I guess, when two strangers meet, and somehow emotionally and psychologically connect, the spark starts everything, and you merely oblige yourself to make a sense out of it. There is not time for reasoning; there is only the idea that while it is still off the oven, put the butter where it's supposed to be, then take a bite. Then you take a risk and you stare more, and before you know it, the two of you are in a staring contest, separated by gutt and the occasional uneasy smile.

There are no words uttered, no greetings made, no nothing.

Somehow, it was better that way.

But eventually, you crave for more. You tremble to get a bigger bite out of it.

Then this article has to end. Because I neither wish to be bittersweet nor want to be hopeless romantic about it.

And So is My Life

My Facebook is an open book.

And so is my life.

I never meant it that way, but I find comfort in letting people see all sides of my story. Not to be self-righteous or anything; there is something therapeutic about it.

Of course, I needed to categorize first arrogance from sheer urge for human expression. There is a big difference between showing off and letting it go. The former is with flatulence (the word has been my fave one this week) while the latter is a natural outlet of emotions.

A life like my life that is open book in both reality and Facebook is one that I have established with mastery of every part of it. First, there is the argument of privacy. Why an open to the public profile, if you may ask? I find no fault in making it accessible to everyone; if it was to show off something inappropriate, that's a different side of it. When one decides to put it out in the open, it usually is a matter of confidence, of knowing that when you put it in the open, you can always reel it back in. I disagree with the idea of keeping everything private on a social network like Facebook. If it was meant to be private all that you have in your profile, why do it with Facebook? I mean, you can make it more private without hiding behind the cover of a website. Then there are those who type their names in reverse, hoping no one will be able to find them. Again, you might be better off without a profile at all. It's basically the outcome to a means, short cutting it by eliminating redundancies along the way.

Second, it's the whole idea of personal satisfaction. I am born introvert, and I know I am designed to always keep everything to myself. But as a human being, I know from time to time, someone has to listen to some of the stories I keep. It's like this blog; I am sure when the art of writing was invented, it never thought of having writing in the technological savvy nomenclature of the world wide web, but regardless of form, writing was made to connect people. A foolish definition of writing is that it was only meant to satisfy the inner sanctimony of the writer, never a medium for expression. When cavemen drew things in the walls of the caves they were staying, they needed to write them there for others to see. It's not like a dog burying a bone on the ground and only him knows where it is. The whole idea of writing is that soon, an audience will care to read or listen. The personal satisfaction is dependent upon the interest of people towards the stories and the emotions conveyed.

Combining personal satisfaction and fighting off privacy, a healthy person cannot only be about what he eats, but also what he does when the eating stops.

My life is an open book because everything that I do is designed that way. Not to solicit comments, not to encourage debate. I made it open because, when it's closed, I didn't see the point why I had to talk to myself without anyone telling me what's wrong with it.

Blessed be the Curse

A migraine is both a blessing and a curse.

There is nothing cliche about the use of "a blessing and a curse," though itself a flatulation by face value.

How does a migraine become a curse?

During its peak, back when yourstruly was still in high school, a migraine attack (migraine with aura, to be more specific) takes 30 minutes to commence, and recovering from it was just 23 hours. So that's on a once a week occurrence, multiplying it by four weeks, and you get this - 12.78% or the whole month is spent through vomiting, chilling, stomachache, a freaking headache, neck pain, an aura that's scarier than a lightning right to the face (not that I've experienced it), and my most favorite part, regurgitation of noodles, which, in the context of gross and this article's aim of illustration, is mostly done on purpose to circulate the toxins that are inside my stomach. Medically speaking, there is no scientific study to prove that this helps in the recovery, but the dilemma was leaving me with no other option, but the option of ignorance.

That was 14 years ago.

Currently, there is still the occasional aura, little bolt of lights zigzagging my vision, and when it slowly fades after 30 minutes of orgy in my eyesight, the headache picks up where the other left off. Then the routine finishes off with numbness of the fingers, and closes out with roughly an hour of recovery. And did I mention 14 years ago, it was too impossible to eat, sleep and move? When forcing to close thy tiring eyes during the recovery, lying down could not be an option, because my body does not allow me to. So, 14 years ago, if you saw me that way, you would think I was better off being suicidal than surviving.

Now, I am able to create distractions. Diversions were never an easy thing to develop, but it was so because of the need to not stay in this condition especially because of the focus on the professional life. I remember during 2000's summer job at a fast food store. It was the worst 9 hour shift of my life. I was hugging the toilet seat like a pillow, and the vomiting was probably the most colorful I have seen my entire life.

At this age, I am able to get over it quicker, way quicker than before. Even during migraine attacks, I have now victoriously developed the cunning ability to smoke menthol while thy aura does its work. I still get the occasional vomiting, but they only come when there is too much of the unnecessary inside me that it is comparable to a vertigo without the bulimia. :D

So, a migraine is also a blessing, because once you are able to reach that certain threshold where your body thought it could not go on any further, you stick to the psychological state of mind, and everything that comes after it is a test of muscle memory, of knowing how to deal with it when it happens again. I believe migraine is one of those things that become easier as it happens more frequently.

Here are things you can enjoy doing while aura is in a mosh pit:

1) Rent a movie you haven't seen. I prefer a movie with LOTS of gun fights. Don't go for tearjerkers; they'll only worsen the pain.
2) The first food to get into your system while recovering should be soft enough it is easy regurgitating it off your stomach. As previously explained, it helps me try to acclimatize to the feeling of eating with pain.
3) Play around with mefenamic. When you have recovered or about to, mefenamic is to euphoria as flies are frogs' fine dining.

Lastly, I learned that with migraine, I am able to realize how boring I can be. With recovery lasting roughly 23 hours. it is such a wonderful thing to do trying to take something out of it all a little idea and play with it once out. Then again, people are boring in their own ways.

Serendipitous

For the nth time, I finished watching Serendipity. I lost count after college. :D

Is it my favorite? One of, not the "est" movie (that would be Reality Bites).

Not to sound melodramatic about it, but it's a movie of a funny sort. I believe the director wanted it to be funnier than it is dramatic. The whole idea of two people finding each other in the end is a funny thought, if you try to look at it. Who cries when such happens? Who falls into tears when the serendipitous, magical moment happens? No one. It's funnier than it is sad.

I had my own share of a serendipity.

In college, I met this girl who became part of my life (conscious state of mind, coz I was merely saying part of my life 'indirectly'). The first time I saw her, I thought I knew her from somewhere or that we met before or we might be distant relatives. To be able to clear myself of those doubts, I researched the whole neighbor and my hometowns just so I don't get into a sinful act with a cousin or a relative. But alas, no traces of my bloodlines with that name attaching itself into my two surnames.

Then I got the chance to tell my feelings to her. Despite plans to explain it to her in the most diplomatic and reasonable way possible, I failed, not just once. Well, five times, to be more exact. It was a rejection after another. I was trying to be the walking "nichi" - what doesn't kill me can only make me stronger, but it was like forcing a gut out of a fish and let it swim again without it. Soon, I was eating my own crap and still unable to find a separation from the fantasy that it has become. I was trying to hold on to something that was not possible, still trying to push it even more. I believed that when I have suffered enough, I needed to be rewarded from it. However, there was more of the struggling than any hint of a happy ending.

Just when I was about to give up, triggered by a break up with a girl I was with for almost four years (though I categorically believe it was never a REBOUND), the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle started to fall into place, one small piece at a time.

To think that almost a decade ago, I was simply playing with a thought, of a fantasy with bittersweet ending.

So when the fantasy suddenly became part of my reality, there was no tearjerker involved. To me, it was a funny thought, something to break a funny bone inside you. To me, what was a fantasy before can only end up being a punchline to it all. And it's the same thing with any human endeavor. To struggle through a certain chapter and come out of it alive and kicking puts a little smile on anyone's face. There is the feeling of relief, of being able to get over the anxiety and curiosity, of how it's supposed to end. While I was trying to dig something out of my cerebral cortex, the song "Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore" suddenly plays in Winamp, randomly picking from the playlist. Icing on the cake, I must say. I do not wish to subscribe to sheer coincidence, but it does say something about the situation. When you are happy, you enjoy the music. When you are sad, you understand the lyrics. I picked that one up somewhere, sometime before.

So Serendipity it is to me what Siri is for Iphone. A friendly post-it reminder, helping you stay and track without the need to dig deep into something.

Pasta Without the Meatballs

Why aren't we always satisfied with one thing? Is it human nature to take an option whenever it's available? Are we better off comparing one with another?

It's a question I kept asking myself lately.

See, I am going through an emotional hitchhiking to find my way out of my age. At 30 years old, I am supposed to be either married or already dipping one leg into it. I guess that's what's interesting about this emotional pilgrimage. It's that at this age, I have yet to find what I want in my life.

So I keep going back to questions unanswered, hoping that the more I ask, the better I get enlightened with it.

People are often worried about what could have been and what should have been. I do not exclude myself from that. Often, I create my own trap and when I fall into it, I pretend surprised. I keep telling people that a problem is a choice, yet, when I get to test myself with it, I fail to realize or to practice what I preach.

I do not wish to start this blog just to end it with the question. Rather, I wish to find a full stop to it (British eh).

So if I were to answer my own question, we can't be satisfied with just one thing because of frustrations, of too much thinking about what has not happened. Most of the frustrations and fears come from things that never happened. What I fail to realize sometimes is that I should be more afraid of the things that I know rather than the things I know not. When I get to that psychological equilibrium, I know that instead of piling myself up with questions, I'd rather take one small step and try answering them one at a time.

As a start, I guess, this would be commencing a self-internalization.

I keep doubting my capabilities. I rely too much on premonitions and signs. I get affected unnecessarily with the what if's. If I need to truly be enlightened with where I am headed, while trying to know what I want in life, then I need to be more realistic with my goals. To create a balance between the inevitable and the inclination is like trying to eat pasta without any meat on it - it isn't satisfying, but hey, it's the pasta you are after.

Next blog, it's going to be more hard-hitting. For now, one baby step towards slap in the face realization.

Why a BPO company, of all industries?

Five years ago, I was contemplating on the thought. I was in a crossroad; during that time I thought I was about to hit rock bottom. After three wonderful years of teaching in college, somehow, my academe career had to stop. It was not only one isolated reason; there were many things that triggered it.

First, I am unable to finish my Master's Degree; I was a thesis shy away from graduating.

Second, I got into trouble of being too loyal with my journalistic self. Working as a Technical Adviser for a student publication, and being a Mass Communication graduate, I knew I had to be in the side of my staff, not to slant to the school administration. These are kids trying to make a point, and they needed someone to back them up. Well, with it comes the risk of being an anti-administration, so I did what I had to do. Unfortunately, though they never used it against me, it might have been one of the reasons why they never renewed my probationary contract.

Third, I got into a relationship with a former student. Not that I can't do a little compromise to stay in my career and maintaining the relationship at the same time, but it was necessary for me to get out of it, probably, out of fear of getting us both dragged into it.

Fourth, I got into another teaching job in a university, but it only lasted for a semester. They wanted another contract for another semester, but I declined. It was a shitty experience to start with, and I never liked the idea of working for a big company. The bigger the company becomes, the bigger the politics. To add insult to it, the university had the worse idea of building up students' idea of education. So needed to bail myself out of it.

So why BPO? Coz all this euphoria led me to this. To the NOW.

Exactly what is my definition of a career. A career is not a calling. When you enjoy doing something, they say you don't need to get paid. But there is the economics of it all. At the end of the day, there is the bills to think about, the need to live another day, and the urge to do better next time. All these are pre-conditions to finding a career. If you only enjoy what you do, I think they call it a hobby.

If it pays the bills, then I am up to the challenge of doing something different.

Plus, it has given me more than I expected. Just 4 months into my BPO career, I got promoted, even before I got regularized. How's that for perks?

All the things that we do to make it right, and all the things that we never did to make it wrong. There is just enough to make it a career to love.

Prelude

I'm starting this blog not as a result of a frustration, nor a product of anxious understanding towards what could have been and what will be.

This merely arose from the idea that it has been quite some time since my fingers jogged through the keyboard. Back in college, there were a lot of this and essays, the dreaded essays, were my warm-ups, my in between digging of insights made available by my own experiences. Though there were chances of too much self-righteousness, it was a challenge to take a balance between the ego and the common. The ego tries to rule you out of your own bubble, while the common makes it pragmatic. People are often limited to their own idea of what is and what is not. I do not see any problem with that, except, and I merely say this as an anti-thesis, that their idea of a phenomenon is just taking things out of their own context.

See, this is what's wrong with getting the chance to write.

There is not enough discipline to start with.

The thoughts are mixed.

There is not a direction.

The purpose is vague.

The idea is rough.

But the act is exciting. It's a start of something magical. And I am being melodramatic here.