Sunday, October 7, 2012

A Fruitless Lamentation (of which I hope I am wrong about).



A fruitless lamentation (of which I hope I am wrong about).

So today marks the nth day of wandering about the world with no real gratification at hand. Yes, satisfaction is being had from having (finally) something to do, albeit not in the place I had I mind. Well, on the matter of it not being what I have always wanted, it is really not where I want to find myself. So, true. I am not running out of time or anything, but my choices and chances have dwindled. And so, here my two feet are somewhat buried in a mound of no less than proverbial shit.

But of course, with all things considered and some said things willed to play to my liking, I may get what I want. See, to capitalise on something one must only know where to capitalise mainly on, and then find the connection between the circumstances now and the circumstances later.

But enough of that. I came to talk about money. Money is hard to come by, especially with both my feet quite invested deeply in a heap of deepshit. I don’t know how talking about it helps, but what I have in mind is none of your business. I may be on to something here and could be doing myself some real live counselling. I talk to myself this way, by writing. Weird isn’t it? But still, none of your business. 

So I have never seen myself selling anything, and this current thing requires that. What should I do? Well, first I tried to embrace it. I found out that it is as easy as taking a college program a million miles away from what I have grown to love: not easy. It is like putting a two-tier cake whole in my mouth. So I had to eat piece by piece until the love is ripe.

First I got myself interested on the idea of sales. Some can do, some can learn. Had I not wanted to learn how to do salestalk-ing, I would’ve wrung my own tiny neck like a washcloth. The truth is, the idea has sold itself to me because it is interesting. To make capable people aware that they, in fact, need something, that is amazing. And it doesn’t involve coaxing, which makes the idea more wonderful. And besides, learning about something new isn’t so bad. At the end of the day, if I come out sale-less, at least I have gained something.

What the hell.

Of course, after getting myself interested I had to undergo training. The training was fine. As usual, I made zero friends, but made zero enemies either. Well, of course I might’ve irritated some people but they don’t count as enemies. A disclaimer: I didn’t top my class, but wasn’t the worst there was (not actually confirmed but I suggest you believe me).

So almost a month post-training, here I am, with nothing solid as proof that my life has had a turnaround.
But then again, I had no expectations as to where this will get me. See, I just confused myself once again. I was in for a surprise, and I told myself that. It is from an interest to learn, to learning, to finishing training and now to doing whatever.

Hopefully, doing what I can does lead me to something.

Tuesday, July 31, 2012

I spent the day trying to confuse myself.



And here i am, a deer in headlights. I am dazed and more confused.

I never knew why i do things to make my life miserable. Maybe it is just me. Or maybe this stormy bed weather makes it feel that way,
and i'll be alright come the sun.

For posterity i am going to enumerate things i have done, hopefully not in vain, to make myself feel less like my normal self, which is depressed:
1. Ate.
2. Prayed. Im a Catholic and i love having a silent, fervent prayer when the moments turn vicious.
3. I swiped plastic for a headset. I am now waiting for Betty's monster of an email. The headset is expensive.
4. Walked around a mall (with my newly bought headset on, of course). Did i defeat the purpose by shutting myself in with my loud music, instead of interacting with people? I think i did. So this might have been a complete bust.
5. Tried having sex. Failed. Another bust.

My purpose is to remind myself that in the future i have to think of better things to waste my time on. What you do, Albert, is out of the ordinary. Because you are abnormal.

Thank you.

I am confused.



Now is the moment when i just realized that:
1. Emotions are relevant.
2. Moods are real, and they may vary from time to time.
3. Human beings are much more complicated.

These may all just be in my head. Well, all of these are. But am i the only one making these realizations?

If in any part of this you get confused, bear in mind that this is from my head. This may also serve as a letter to my future self in case i lose memory and need reminding of how big a cynic i am.

Heart Attack

For the most part of my life, the heart has been a pumping mass of flesh and fibers that the brain has control of. It does not do anything but keep humans alive.

Now it has occurred to me that when a sudden pang of emotion happens, the body is likely to be more compelled compared to when the brain does the commanding. Well, this is myself under observation.

It causes an upheaval. And it being irrational, i take that the brain would have to stop it. But it doesnt always do that. A losing game it may be, the heart wants it and it will bet on it with every ounce of dignity. Clearly, it is being stupid, driving me stupid, and i end up undignified.

Usually, happiness is the price. And i stand a chance to be content in the end. Happy and contented, but is it all worth it? If being irrational gets me happiness and contentment, i would have to think and think and THINK before anything.

See, this is already bad writing.

But when the heart attacks, i have to write about it.

The longest-running (not blood-related, more than friendship) relationship i have.



(thankfully, it is still ON)

I hope i have expressed myself sweetly enough, because that is how far this is going to get. Unless i can help it.

So here, the tenth month has been reached. Yes this is the longest i have stayed/tolerated another person. Normally i dont even talk or text. But commitment brings a new color in me, figuratively. It is a combination of happines and anxiety and being careful enough not to be the normally abrasive asshole i always am with other people. Call it being two-faced, whatever. Actually, fuck you.

Moving on.

I am not sure how emotions got involved, from the beginning. Maybe it was mutual. More likely it pushed some things into life inside this hollow chest of mine (i cant speak for another person, so only my assumptions are on text), and it churned out something bittersweet. I generally cant say any one of my relationships, family ties, friendships and feuds included, is flatout happy -just bittersweet. So i guess by feeling that bit of challenge is the salt and pepper i need to season my life.

There are good things in my life, and there are problems. And then there is this relationship that balances everything. It is a sort of gray area where i do most of the debriefing when life gives me something awesome or crappy.

Like a homebase or something. Somewhere i would call comfortable.

Sunday, April 15, 2012

Doesnt getting wet seem to get trouble out?

Well, had i not done this impromptu and brought a towel, then id be happy.

It is bittersweet having to write about things unknown to anyone but myself -sweet, because no one reads about my problems (people probably wont get it anyway); and bitter, because no one reads me, no one understands me.

Because maybe i count as a person to other people. In short, people still care.

Hopefully not too much.

-----

So, yes, something out of the ordinary might help to keep the depression away, like swimming; or eating something really crunchy; or drinking. It is happy to be in control of one's emotions. Shit.

Monday, April 9, 2012

I Cant Map Out My Feelings

I cant map out my feelings.

I just cant seem to, for the life of me or the relationships i struggle to keep, figure out life. My motto is to keep thinking, and i cant help but short-circuit at the crucial moments. Has thinking becoming a way to carve my road to, to put it harshly, destruction? I hope not.

Buut of course when my instincts take over i turn acidic in my stomach and hurt people some more. Is this the evil that i have been avoiding so i keep analysing every step i take?

Everything is becoming so damned confusing, and i bet a week from now i will have forgotten why i was sad and wrote this. I am unwell now, that is the bottomline.

I just dont want to see the day when voices in my head shall start to control me. I have handled mental stress but real life is all new to me. Give me a book.

And no one wants to listen to me. Right, these things in my head are petty. But a precaution is never harmful.

I need a break.

But i dont want to leave things temporarily behind, thinking they might get worse without my watch. But i should convince myself to relinquish care for a bit: things heal on their own, and they will, even without my watch. Hopefully in my absence problems would be stagnant at best -cant be too trusting, i guess. Then in my retreat my mind will wander off to find peace. Cliche, i used to think; but now it feels like a really hopeful solution. That's it: a retreat.

Let the foolish remain foolish, when they cant be helped. If things go haywire i wont be watching. Il be ready when i get back, to throw things into the trash, and try to pick up where i abruptly left.

That is it: a break.

I have to get my ass off the couch

I have to get my ass off the couch.

I really do.

It has been more than six months that i have been unemployed. I have never been formally employed, but i have experience. I have experienced some forms of work: housechores (cooking, baking, making the bed), hospital grunt work (i am a PT graduate, which i still cant believe), and writing(take this out of my portfolio). I've done some online content writing for an international website (i have to keep reminding myself this or else i'll risk forgetting that I have a decent portfolio) --mostly captions, but still, published.

In my opinion, I deserve something decent and not something bordering illegal and underground. Or a job description that sounds catchy, and that's all of it.

There is a position that i want to have in a certain international company that does international work, but the wait is not worth it.

Also, i want to a certain position in a magazine, but they have not responded yet.

An online store. No response.

A certain office serving international clients miles high. No response.

My dilemma is that i know what i want but they take too long to respond. I am losing the rational voice in my head to depression, and this is the dullest ive ever been. On the outside, my days are fine, sometimes great; but come the nights and i blanket myself with sadness. Life is unfair, but why cant i be on the winning side, just for a day, to get a really good chance? Im ripe, and i am up for anything. Give me something, and i'll be the man for it. Desperation gives me the guts, and my boredom fuels me. But behind these, i really want those posts.

I have had my ass buried in the couch too long.

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Dont get tired of me, because i think i might have a new problem.

There is this wave of sad, sad sorrow -obviously, i cant reiterate enough how dark and gloomy it is, and it is blocking the sun. It feels like a hand is gripping my heart, or blackened rotting roots trying to swallow what\'s in the middle of my chest. Of course it doesnt feel right, and im losing sleep and at the same time losing lung capacity because of smoking, as this boy is a stress smoker. Frankly i dont know what to do, and i cant well force myself to stop moping, despite my lesser waves of depressive moods, all of which i have survived. This agony feels very manageable, but i have nothing to stop it or avoid its course. I may as well sit and wait but, well, it is hard to deal with.

Look at me analyze my depression.

Anyway, writing has always been the one and only cure for when i am troubled. There is nothing better than telling a piece of paper and not a living soul about one\'s own mental anguish. Honestly, i cant think of anyone mentally fit to listen to me mumble. Besides, i wouldnt know how to say it.

Let the crazy people rest.










Friday, March 2, 2012

maybe i should start reading again.

Wait, I have.

Let`s talk about Haruki Murakami`s collection of short stories: Blind Willow Sleeping Woman.

Fantastic. There is a mood of dreaminess Murakami never fails to draw upon the reader. The mystery is calming, eerie but good, and sometimes the conclusion is revealed even before the end. It is magical.

I repeat, MAGICAL.

I read it usually for stress relief. Don`t ask me why. I think I`ve already told myself that it is calming.


Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Physically, the worst feeling.

And yes i stand among those blinded by the light.

And right again, the facts are there waiting in the bright and lonely daylight.

I want to document my feelings and thoughts in this moment just so id remember, and since no one else reads me but myself.

I feel weird to start with. Weird and tired yet i want to stand up and talk but no one is awake. I feel alone. In the daylight, i am in the dark. The confusion is worse then anything; reality is becoming clear but the boundaries are just forming.

Im restless, confused, tired and i feel alone. Something is needed to be done to bring me back into my normal sync, something out of the ordinary, just to get the gears running again.

He cogs up in my head are turning too rapidly as the remaining machinery that is my body is asleep. I want to sleep yet a voice is shouting, telling me to wake up.

I need to feel good.

Friday, January 13, 2012

It is a day of suddenly asking the rhetorical Qs.

Usually, we all end up knowing something about ourselves, a definite thing, something we are at an absolute certainty of, that we think -know, would set us apart from the multitude -of the daily commute, the lunchroom queue, the boardroom table, the world. Imagine it to be a force we set a ball called CONFIDENCE into motion. Now the ball would go on rolling, along and through anything, dictated by the force we equipped it with and until the force fizzles out, it will go on well into the demise of our tired but unique and happy souls.

The matter of present rant is that sometimes, even if we feel that we are enough, that life is well and good and reverence from the voices outside our heads is adequate, there are situations where we'll be made to feel inadequate -inept, even, that it would throw us off and beg ourselves to change.

I do not feel that i am good enough a son to my parents. Thus i rebel a bit now that i am independent and also in a way dependent to them, which is complicated. And feeling this way certainly helps espouse the branching out of the paranoia that i am not a well person enough as anyone to everybody i have come to know in my lifetime. My courage permits me to ask certain rhetorical questions: as a brother? Pupil? Intern? Friend? Boyfriend? And the list would go on.

And then there comes the question that bugs me the most: Am I good enough for myself?

It bothers me that my courage cant do more than just ask and not venture for answers. But then my rational mind would tell me that asking straight up would be considered weird, and ultimately would somehow breach my image in their eyes. Of course i cannot drop a clue as to how crazy i have become with so many questions droning in my head.

So i shall try to play it by ear, and not ask at all. Observation would be key, and then manifest changes in a manner that would be tasteful, and ensure permanence of the newfound self.

Now i wonder if im the only one assessing himself, if he is enough.

Hay. The calm of being away from the city certainly brings me to a level of craziness. And this is what makes me unique. Kidding.