Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Write for the sake of your love of writing.

Or do whatever it takes for you to end up (and eventually die) doing what you love, whatever it is you want to do, even if it takes your life.

Because it is the purpose you and I have been made for, and it the reason to live, and if it really is what it is,, then id be happy to die of it.

Pretty idealistic. In a way it is grim, knowing that the ultimate end would be death. But don’t we already know that death will come? And at this point, the ‘YOLO’ adage comes in.

Life comes and goes. Painful to be left by someone. Also when it is your turn to finally leave people behind. Death can only be sweet when it is:

Escaping from something painful.
Entering it knowing you have served yourself well.
Dying at the peak of your fame (or infamy).

And with these I guide myself, no less, through life. Guidance through life using death. Flashy.

And this is when I know that I should be great. i shouldn’t exit BIG; I’d rather live big, and then die in a small manner. Pull together my greatest of works and then publish, then wait for the fame, and if that doesn’t do anything to help the spread of common good, I’d settle with infamy for the plagues I’ve unknowingly let out. Either way, something I have done is out there, bolstered the good, or at least shaken weak faith.

Anyhow, I am not dying. Simply thinking. Hopefully not stinking.

On with the current events:

This is a new laptop. Secondhand but ever-efficient. One dream is to own a machine to keep thoughts in, something with a real keyboard, while listening to music. Also this keeps my music organized and talks to my menagerie of gadgetry and others’, among others. Magic.
Halfway through The Once and Future King by T.H. White.
Started watching Game Of Thrones this morning. The books I shall read after finishing aforementioned tome. The tome is three inches thick, by the way.
I am now based in Kalibo, Aklan. Provincial place, which I hate, but it is also home to delicious pork. And the cost of living is low so the upkeep for living hasn’t changed much.What I have sacrificed in living in Manila, Kalibo makes up for it in its own little way. I live alone in a condo in Manila, and I live the dorm life in Kalibo with other flight attendants.  Magic.
Recently I have been the angry flight attendant. Frequently fly with me and you’ll see why. Actually here is why: some people may fly frequently, but that doesn’t mean they have become, in any way, observant. Or smart. Or literate. Or considerate.
I have maintained a love/hate relationship with my work. In my head I have some rough opinions. People close to me know what I harbor in my head.
I share with Mark Ronson the birthday September 4th.
As always, after every hiatus, I am getting up again. Writing is difficult. But it is also easy. It’s dumb to say it is easy.
I am not dating.
My freezer is full of coffee grounds. Real dark, thickly delicious coffee.
Everybody says I’m thinner than the last time they saw me, which is roughly a week prior. And they marvel at my ability to eat. I gloat through my mouthfuls of food, bragging about my ultra-fast metabolism, which I do not know yet if existent.
I drink more now, although I cant say I have a higher tipsy threshold. Beer and hard liquor. Most nights exclusively beer, but I wouldn’t refuse a shotglass. Or bomb.
New work uniform.
Same work routine, with some little negligible amendments. Basically, the core remains the same.
Sadly, I am asking for forgiveness for the bad writing.

It has been five months since I last posted. And for much longer before that, I think. I still hope to write for my fame though.

I have a new set of long-term goals:

Publish something.
Save enough to keep on writing.
Take up an MBA (either in PT or English).

My own life bores me. I don’t know if my goals are reachable, and if life would go my way. But what I do assure myself is that I shall write.

My life is the genre of every troubled male teenager you have seen.

I am pretty sure however that some people have as much claim to this as I do. But this is my laptop and this goes to my blog so let us keep the spotlight on me. And although being well past my teenage years, this is still my space.

I have thoroughly figured out, and accepted completely, that it is not about the loneliness –being single in this age is not as pressuring as it was ten to twenty years ago, but more about the lack of sex, that is driving me to feel alone. In the advent of casual sex, and its viability due to convenience, I have managed to get by, though not as easily as I had previously hoped, but I am managing to live single and just consume sex, or at least it is how I imagine my life would be, if it were all a movie. In this movie I am the lead with just one sex partner whom I have sex with from time to time, at my beck and call, and we shall not have anything deeper than tongue-on-tongue action, and this is because I do not believe in penetration because it is unsafe on all counts, with all the holes and the nooks and crannies riddling the human body. Make out, relieve ourselves, make out some more, then finish. No strings. Decent conversations, occasional dates, more talking and intellectual debates shall be had, all of them deeply ingrained into the script, and since no one is vulnerable emotionally, either of us will be free to shoot down each other’s badly-conceived ideas. Because no biases are present, no bad feelings will emerge. Every comment will be respected and not taken personally, and if not, both shall just agree to disagree.Done. And only sex is imminent in every end of the conversation or prior to, and then more talking. Then more talking then the casual goodbyes, the usual thank you text messages, and the agreement to do it again, and it will be fulfilled, and this is the only form of commitment present.

I am bad at remembering dates, so no date will be picked tomark the conception of the unconventional relationship. And no one would even care about the dates. And no one would call the relationship a ‘relationship’ because it is disgusting. It wouldn’t even be called a partnership. It is what it is: what I have defined it to be, and since it is too complicated to name, it will have no name, and rightfully so, because labels are disgusting and there would be a lot of pressure if it were to be called something. It is a ‘complicated thing without a name, but it is well understoodby the only people involved, and it serves a purpose, so it exists and it thrives and survives whatever’. Too long, but I can live with it. But I shall not say it.

The movie will have a wonderful script, with a lot of idiosyncrasies courtesy of me, and it will be shocking, unconventional and borderline weird, similar to how my life is.References to pop culture will be scattered, so as not to alienate the conventional moviegoer. This will give some kind of reality to hold onto. It will be set in somewhere cool, somewhere not too hot, and not third world, where they do not have jobs to juggle, just one. And these jobs would have regular hours, as to make both available. Money, or lack thereof, would be out of the picture too. Each one has whatever one needs to survive, and whatever want it is that is wanted, it will be acquired, because both of us are sufficient. No borrowing, no one will be short on rent or utility bills, whatever. The living shouldn’t present anything remotely real. There will be the right amount of money, but not too much that it creates some form of conflict between classes. Schedules will be synced without much effort. Coincidental, maybe, but no one notices it, so no one points it out.

Basically, what I am hoping for is a dissection of what I reallywant, and this movie might be some kind of a wake-up call, but I am really hoping for it to be some kind of affirmation that my life is not really a mess, and that my weird ideas are truly plausible, and therefore possible, with the right set of factors. I want to reach a conclusion that in this day and age, a person like me who is not so uncommon, who harbors ideas that are not completely hard to digest, with parameters that are not at all astronomical, sex without strings attached is coherent enough to be one of the choices among marrying and staying single and sexless. I choose to be single with sex and without much commitment other than being there when needed, being a proper sounding board for ideas and being level-headed when needed. I do not need strings. Hmm. I would rather not have any.

And this is how I am preparing to start my 24th year. September 4th, 2013 marks the start of something new. Something not socially acceptable (but doable) but with my disregard for social convention (and my adherence to believing it to be bullshit actually), I might find this comforting in the long-term.

Tell me what you think. I am going to bed.