Dry Raisin of Ignorance

I have always regarded myself as a frustrated writer. I’m really not good with writing literature. I have taught interpreting literature, but I don’t have the proper authority to teach writing literature. In fact, there were quite a number of times when I felt I shouldn’t even lead a club like Xanadu.

This mentality has always haunted me. I really feel so low, not worthy to be noticed. My writing has been overlooked since high school and college. I tried writing stories and poems, yet no one seemed to notice. I have always been the second placed guy standing alongside the champions in a podium.

The feeling of unworthiness came rushing back to me this afternoon. I tried to put the feeling into words, but nothing seemed to work. I felt so tired and stressed out for thinking the proper way to express my emotions into writing, until I went back to a website that I have been a member of for the past half decade. Fortunately, I still remember my password and email to it and logged on.

I went over my posts and I came across my best reviewed poem, “33rd”. Upon reading it, the emotion of the poem suddenly came crashing on me. I was that guy on that 33rd floor. I was that person wishing to let go and be free. I was he who carries that “dry raisin of ignorance”.

Looking further, I checked the comments and read the accolades for that poem. For some reason, I felt happy. At least, some random strangers think that I have greatness which even I can’t seem to fathom.

It’s saddening to feel unworthy. I just wish that there will be more random strangers to make me feel important and talented. Then again, life is full of wishful thinking, so I guess I’ll just have to sit and make the world turn as I become oblivious to everyone’s sight.

http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2592290/1/33rd

Evolution

It’s tough to actually look back. Still, I must…

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From The Bangles’ Eternal Flame to The Script’s Nothing

Back in 1990, I first heard the song “Eternal Flame” by The Bangles. I instantly felt the song. I listened to it again and again on local radio and soon became the very first song that I memorized. I was four then.

I had always believed that love and compassion is for everyone to give and receive. That’s the main premise of the song Eternal Flame. You reach out to someone, then both of you touch hands. Finally, like a dream, everything turns out well, a happy ever after feel-good story. Yes, it happens. Apparently, for the rest of us rejected and thrown, it doesn’t.

As years go by, that illusion of a happy ever after story faded from my memory. From “Eternal Flame” to Vertical Horizon’s “You’re a God” to Matchbox Twenty’s “If You’re Gone” to Avril Lavigne’s “When You’re Gone” before ending up with The Script’s “Nothing”, a thousand songs have described my life. In fact, my life has been so diverse that at one point I even related to Britney Spears’ “Everytime”. Yes, my life is as broken as my heart. I blame it on the fact that I hoped too much and done so little. I cursed myself for putting myself out there so hard only to be thrown right back in to my reclusion.

I have always said that Alicia Keys’ “Karma” has actually gone full circle on me. I gave some, and got some. I felt pain, I hurt some. I have paid my dues, I received my rewards. Yet, nothing seems to really work for me. I always felt that same same lonely feeling that Secondhand Serenade’s “Vulnerable” describes.

It’s a bit delusional to say that everything will go well. Kelly Clarkson’s “Already Gone” speaks of that testament of people needing to go to avoid more hurts and heartbreaks. It’s also a bit pessimistic to claim that hope’s stream has dried out. Bruno Mars’ “Today My Life Begins” spoke the truth about that. Still, it’s a mistake to actually live a dream when reality will remain an object of the hoping and longing mind. My innocence told me that love, hope, and compassion are eternal flames. Unfortunately, my so-called maturity doused the flames with the reality that nothing good lasts and that the sting of bad memories hold true forever.

Given Up

Yes, the title says it all. Not even Adele could have given the right words to describe what I’m feeling. It’s all resignation. I tried distracting myself amidst this impending mental, emotional, and relationship breakdown. I have tried my best to obscure the most intense feelings, yet I have failed. Now, I raise my arms in surrender and let fate take its course.

There have been lots of speculation regarding what I’m going through. I was approached the other day by a colleague and asked if I was okay. I replied with a simple yes not admitting even to myself that something is definitely wrong. Hopefully, before my sanity and my walls collapse down on me, I can admit to the possibility that I’m not okay.

Jerson died a few months ago. Though I’m not sure that my fate will be the same, I’m now treading on that same path that he took. I have always mentioned that I would die at the age of 25. Apparently, I think I won’t, but my feeling of reservation and obscurity slowly eats away my health and my sanity.

I have had another asthma attack today. I am using my inhaler, but it seems that it isn’t working. I may have forgotten to inhale a few days back, but my pulmonologist somehow implied that the severity and frequency of attacks will not be affected though I missed a few dosages. The past few days seemed to tell otherwise since I always have shortness of breath recently. I  had a minor one in 2J yesterday and a near attack in 4J before classes were suspended. I have used the term psychosomatic to a ex’s condition a few weeks ago. Now, I’m thinking that this asthma is the same.

I have my sanity in check recently. I have read lots of websites about bipolarity and schizoprenia and apparently I have the early signs of such. It is said in those that emotional and psychological trauma are the primary causes of the two and, unfortunately, I am deluge with severe cases of both. I guess only time will tell when I would go overboard. Only time will tell.

Now, you may ask, what causes all of these? Let’s just say it’s an extreme case of heartbreak brought about my personal and social rejection that I have experienced since the past. I have placed my heart on my sleeve that I had it broken to billions of pieces. I have cheated. I have had multiple relationships. I have hurt lots of people. I have rejected. I get rejected some more. I get punched in my gut (figuratively). Add to the fact, that I haven’t cried real tears for the past two years. Most of all, I let go of love when I found it profound and beyond superficial. Talk about a nega love story to the max, huh? Yet, like what I said, I give up. I give up on love. I give up hope. I give up my heart. I give up my existence. I only have my faith for God and my patience for death left.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, even I can’t believe that I’m writing this note. No, this isn’t a cry for help. This is not even a suicide note. I just want to let everyone know what I’m going through. Again, no questions should be asked. It only adds up to the millions of stuff that I’m thinking about. I will be fine I guess. Only time can tell. What I can assure everyone is that I will find a way to escape this reality I have now.

No need to worry everyone. I have just given up…

Back to Blogging

I’ve rediscovered my blog just today. The last post here was two years ago about an article I truly disliked.

How time flies! Back then I was down to a 158 lbs., my lowest weight in over twenty years. Now, I gained back around 15 lbs. That’s how I changed.

Two years feature perhaps the most painful and joyful moments both in my personal and professional life. Going back to each momentous event would be foolish for they will not fit in this single post. Thus, I would leave them all behind and just touch on them once in a while as part of a distant memory.

It’s ironic that I go back to blogging in a period of great heartbreak and intense passion. Moreover, it’s almost Valentine’s Day and I find my love life in limbo.

Again,  welcome back to me! Considering that some people won’t be reading this, I guess I might as well pat myself at the back for going back to something I love the most, writing…

We have towns of Chinese hostages in the Philippines

When I came to work today at 5 AM in the morning, I happily went along with preparations that I need to do before the start of my online classes. A colleague of mine then sent a link to a blog entry about a certain article written by a Chinese journalist from Hongkong. Upon reading the article, my blood boiled with such hatred and anger for such rude, disrespectful, and particularly racist comments. It’s pretty sad that such a respectable man of his profession would say such harsh and totally hurtful comments about Filipinos in general.

Filipinos generally know that we have a lot of domestic helpers abroad. In fact, the number of Filipina domestic helpers are more 300,000. This number is included in the list of the so-called unsung heroes of the Philippine economy, the OFW’s, with more than half of the Philippines’ GDP comes from the remittances of our dear unsung heroes.

Terrifying and disturbing stories of domestic helpers are told every now and then by the friends, family, and of domestic helpers themselves. It’s really sad that Filipinas go to the Middle East or East Asia just to make a living for them and their families. Stories like those of Flor Contemplacion and Sarah Balabagan rock the Philippines with reality that the country is generally in the slums.

Then comes this article that not only reiterates the already present facts but also lowers down the already undignified label of a Filipino abroad. I would agree to the claims of Mr. Chip Tsao. Yes, the Philippines is honestly just a miniscule of a nation as compared to the giant that is China. Yes, we rely heavily on countries like the United States to have security and assurance. Yes, we send more than a hundred thousand Filipinas to become slaves not only to Chinese but also Arabian masters. But, to put these claims together in context with the battle of territory for the Spratlys is truly absurd and ridiculous.

I revere the Chinese for their excellence in Math and Science. But, Mr. Chip Tsao proves that some Chinese are truly bad in English (no offense meant to the Chinese who are good English speakers). He can’t even make a logical point. Thus, he shouldn’t even write because it’s very clear that his intentions are construed. Some of the ideas he presented are totally out-of-context and baseless. Allow me to go through a couple of statements in detail.

First, the Spratlys is not in any way related to the issue of domestic help. Mr. Chip Tsao made this statement in his article:

“Manila has just claimed sovereignty over the scattered rocks in the South China…This is beyond reproach. The reason: there are more than 130,000 Filipina maids working as $3,580-a-month cheap labor in Hong Kong. As a nation of servants, you don’t flex your muscles at your master, from whom you earn most of your bread and butter.”

How on earth can we correlate the issue of territory with the economic issue of domestic help? Territorial claims fall mostly under the label of political concerns. Although territory can possibly be included in economic discussions, it is still unnecessary to bring up such sensitive and vague issue especially if it will demean anybody or any group for this matter.

Second, Mr. Tsao made this really unnerving statement addressed not only to his household help but to the Filipino people as a whole:

“I summoned Louisa, my domestic assistant who holds a degree in international politics from the University of Manila, hung a map on the wall, and gave her a harsh lecture. I sternly warned her that if she wants her wages increased next year, she had better tell every one of her compatriots in Statue Square on Sunday that the entirety of the Spratly Islands belongs to China. Grimly, I told her that if war breaks out between the Philippines and China, I would have to end her employment and send her straight home.”

And, lo and behold. Mr. Cheap, oh sorry, Chip Tsao AGAIN commits many errors here. One, Geography should never be part of domestic help training and practice. Domestic helpers, roughly about three-fourths of them, have at the very least background and knowledge of Geography. Now, Mr. Tsao, (yes, I’m talking to you) based on the map (that is if you have an accurate map), the Spratlys is not more than a hundred miles off the coast of Palawan which is incidentally part of the Western Visayas (as per the Decree of President Arroyo) making it closer of the Western Visayas (which is evidently part of the Philippine territory unless China claims it as well) making the Philippines the more rightful owner of the islands. Now, how on earth can you point out that the Spratlys rightfully belongs to China when Taiwan (an autonomous Chinese province who doesn’t even want to be part of China anymore) is closest at nearly 500 miles. The issue about the Spratlys is a sensitive issue so claims about who owns it is generally disputable. So, better not claim something your own unless proven otherwise in history, geography, or legislature Two, war is truly evitable. The United Nations will not allow such petty disputes to promote World War III. If you will read the news Mr. Tsao, the claims of the Philippines based on the new Act will still be reviewed by the United Nations. Thus, if, indeed the Spratlys belongs to your dear country, the Filipinos will be more than glad to hand it back. So, there’s really no need to flex China’s big (and sometimes bullying) muscles. Three, Mr. Tsao seems to have limited access to information. Even if Filipina maids in Hongkong be relieved of their duties as helpers (if truly war comes), there are other possibilities and opportunities for our unsung heroes. Doors are opening for Filipina maids in the Middle East, the USA, Australia, and Canada. In addition, TESDA offers Filipinas new opportunities to earn “bread and butter” so to speak through caregiving courses, computer courses, and other similar courses which are highly in demand in Europe.

Poor maid! She was put in front of a diplomatic dispute of territory in the very domestic household she works in. I wish that Mr. Tsao could see how he is totally construed and stupid. I wish to point out more errors in his article but sadly I have no more time. But, allow me to quote this one final part of Mr. Tsao’s article:

“They may have Barack Obama and the hawkish American military behind them, but we have a hostage in each of our homes in the Mid-Levels or higher.”

Scary, huh? Nope. Let me just remind some Chinese out there who seem to forget one part of World History. Pre-historical scripts show that many Chinese settle in the Philippines long before the Spanish came. Up to now, Chinese continually come to Philippine shores to find their luck and earn “bread and butter” here. It’s just rightful that I claim that the Chinese similarly are earning their “bread and butter” from us Filipinos since time immemorial. It’s not actually similar in context to domestic helpers, but still I could safely say that they are milking from the Philippine economy. If, indeed, there’s at least a single Filipina hostage in houses in Hongkong, then we have towns of Chinese hostages in the Philippines. Towns and districts like Binondo are homes of the Chinese here. Maybe, some of them are ancestors of modern Chinese. So, we have your ancestors and their families as hostages here. Take that Mr. Chip Tsao!

(Note: To fully understand the post, kindly read this article if you haven’t read the article I spoke of: http://memoirs.lecio.us/?p=364#comment-219)

23 is cool

I went out last March 14 spending the whole night with a few special friends. Upon arriving home the following, I quickly busied myself and prepared for a simple yet meaningful meal for my family. I always wanted to make something for my loved ones, especially on my birthday. So, come my 23rd birthday celebration, I decided to do something special and planned something for my family.

I took a power nap at around 11:30 AM since I still lacked sleep from the all-night spree. Waking up at around 1 PM, I spent almost the whole afternoon preparing. I found it quite weird actually. I really didn’t like being alone in the kitchen doing all the cooking for meals (especially the cleaning). But, on this very particular day, I actually found time to smile and sing as I put the pasta in the boiling water and started chopping onions for the sauce. I could proudly say that I did 95% of the chore by myself considering that I lacked sleep (this would probably be very rare since I really didn’t like to cook on my own even if I could).

I guessed that’s part of me growing up. After March 15, I complained a lot less. I whined less about petty stuff. Plus, I rarely lost my temper. Is this really the feeling of growing up, of maturing? Almost all my exes wanted me to grow up and mature. Before, I really couldn’t understand it when they asked me that. I would admit that I was immature. But not to the extent that even non-relatives like my exes would actually point that out. Looking back, though, made me see their points. I was truly a 10-year iold kid trapped in a 20 year-old body.

As we ate the spaghetti I cooked (which by the way paved the way for my pasta cravings to return after eight long months of diet), a one line mantra came to my mind: 23 is cool. I texted an ex the following day and told that mantra. Confused with it (at the same forgetting my birthday), this ex of mine asked what the hell am I talking about. Why is 23 cool? Is it because it’s Micheal Jordan’s number? Is it a lucky number for Lotto? Is it a weird number with spooky connotations? Or, have I gone cuckoo for employing such sentences as utterly meaningless blabber to make me popular as I mentioned in my previous post in this blog?

The concept is truly simple. 23 is my age. I can pinpoint different things that will pretty much suck when one reaches the age of 23. But, I, on the other hand, finds it cool to actually be around for 23 years. 23 is cool because I finally found the opportunity to grow up. I’ve been wanting to grow up and mature since I was 14 years old. Now, that the opportunity came (not that I wasn’t given the chance for the past 9 years), I gladly opened my arms and embraced getting old. That’s the reason. I always find it cool to be mature and grow. Now that I’m 23, I now can face the world with my held high (as if I was circumcised again!). That or I have gone crazy for cooking spaghetti and creating a mantra for eating it. Kidding!

So, 23 is cool. I really don’t know how long the mantra stays with me. As long as this mantra lingers, I’ll always be proud that I survived 23 long years. It will be a good year. Plus, I can’t wait for 24 ready for more.

Gift

I celebrated my 23rd birthday last weekend and thought of giving myself a gift, a new blog. I have many blogs with at least three of them functioning. So, why the heck do I need a new one? I actually didn’t know why. Maybe, i just had a lot of thoughts. Or, maybe I just wanted to be in. Thus, I headed to wordpress to build a new blog here. After coming up with a name, I tried gathering my thoughts to write my first post. Only to realize that I had nothing to say back then. Sigh! What a downer!

Blogging has allowed people to express their thoughts about absolutely anything under the sun. Some have their personal blogs. A whole lot of others have political blogs. A few have photo blogs. They have loads of ideas and creativity. They put tiny flowers on their blogs to make it pretty. They post different pictures of their travels or people they meet. They have lots of thoughts to discuss. They have different destinations to describe. And importantly, they have tons of readers.

I am an avid listener of RX 93.1. Every morning, Chico Garcia, host of the Morning Rush, never fails to plug his chicogarcia.wordpress.com on air. Such a lucky blogger! He has an avenue to promote his blog. Unlike me, he has a good opportunity to have avid readers and admirers of his blog. I feel that bloggers need people who would read their posts, people who would know who they are. There are countless bloggers on the internet, me included, who create blogs to express themselves but do not have anyone reading their posts. I fear that no one will listen to all my blabbers about life or my thoughts about politics. I’m a boring, geeky wannabe who wish to be in the worldwide web and have a voice and a face.

Yes, I have a dire need to be noticed. Growing up a middle child, I feel I lacked attention. Nope, I’m not Attention Deficient. I just want to be famous. I thought of actually putting my pictures on different websites for people to notice. To no avail, I’m still unpopular after 23 long years. It’s not bad to actually be a wallflower. But. it certainly, will be better to have a popular name and a known face. Ah, my frustrations! Discovering blogging back in 2004, I found an avenue to shine. So, I created my first blog on livejournal. It actually made me happy that I could be famous through blogging. Only to realize the fact after 5 years and 3 blogs later that no one reads nor are interested to what I rant.

What another stupid gift, isn’t it? Another downer. Or, maybe, a blog is not the gift I long to have. I wish for a chance to shine. Blogging allows people to be known or famous. This is a start of an adventure. I maybe not be the owner of chicogarcia.wordpress.com. I may not be as witty as other bloggers. Still, I’m certainly somebody who is worth listening to. Popularity is what I crave. And, that, I’m going to achieve.

(Disclaimer: Please do not get me wrong. I love chicogarcia.wordpress.com. I hope Chico plugs my new blog.)