Home Sweet Blahhhs...

Avril Lavigne - Let Me Go

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 16 Nov 2013 12:02:00 +0000

The Perishers - Pills

noreply@blogger.com (Kwagoo) — Sun, 10 Nov 2013 07:55:00 +0000

"One may think we're alright
But we need pills to sleep at night
We need lies to make it through the day
We're not okay."

That is one thing I can never.. say to you.

Bottom Line

noreply@blogger.com (Kwagoo) — Sun, 10 Nov 2013 05:35:00 +0000

Sometimes I wonder if being emotional is really a symptom of being a woman, or is it really a part of my nature to be this way. Although quite contrary to what most people (who possibly may not know me so well) observe - that I am highly cerebral with little feelings in my expressions - I am quite an erratic and unstable ball of emotions that could and would ricochet between extremes. Leaning possibly to being bi-polar. That, or I tend to indulge both mind and heart to express itself to its fullest potential, of which I can muster. It seems so easy to let my heart break and throw its tantrums, then in the next second, nonchalantly wipe my face into apathetic, emotionless absence and move on with my life.

Who am I fooling anyway? My mind is like a silent lover to my heart, quietly allowing my heart to nag and cry and beg and complain of its aches until it can calm down. Even when it feels strongly against the wills of the heart, my mind would, like a loyal lover, permit my heart to express itself (containing it only when it goes far beyond permissible), defending it with blind logic - you and me against the world.

This morning, I feel my heartstrings tugging at me. Like a random breakdown, I feel myself being sank down into a mild sadness. Such maladies are difficult to find a cure for, because it is not a physical rot that festers and aches - it is an intangible emotional decomposition that stinks but no one can smell, that breaks out that no one can detect, a unique pain that no medicine can cure, only sedate.

I find myself compelled to blog about a song I have written and composed a few months back with my band, Blue with Envy.

-------------------------------

Bottom Line

Verse I:
I've kept my thoughts,
Tightly bubble wrapped
Shielded behind cracking walls of lies.
I'm second guessing
Praying for a point, a map
Shifting between hello's and goodbyes

Cross stitching stories
So the truth won't scrape your knee.
You deserve far better, far better than me.

Refrain:
There are some things, best spoken in mute.
There are some songs, best sung in heart.
There are some things, best understood,
when we're finally apart.

Verse II:
I feared you'd open my Pandora Box,
All my demons would come haunt your wake
My words boomerang
Raining arrows and rocks
I need to let you go for your own sake.

You don't know I'm battling
My own swords to set you free
You deserve far better, far better than me.

Refrain

Bridge:
Let's get to the bottom line,
I don't think we're doing all that fine
I know you did your very best
Afraid I can't withstand this test.

You don't know I'm battling
My own swords to set you free
You deserve far better, far better than me.

Refrain

(WIP Version)

-------------------------------

Someone had once told me I shouldn't take sh*t from anyone. I should be able to stand up for myself. Conceding is a sign of weakness, so it seems. Possibly so. Strength is often associated with aggression, with fighting and defending. I do not question that. Though, sadly such can also work the other way. Aggression can be a sign of weakness - of desperation, of blindness, of insensitivity, of selfishness - how are those attributes strengths? How do you teach a person strength, when put in such vague a way as this?

Isn't it strength that a person can swallow his/ her pride after being told off and continue loving without question? Isn't it strength to quiet your heart from its childish selfishness and take a step back to avoid further conflict? Isn't it strength that even against your easiest desires to fall back into Milan Kundera's "vertigo", a temptation to return to what is convenient, easy (yet possibly.. unhappy), you stand your ground to push forward for what you think will be best? Isn't it strength to understand, despite and in spite, even when one is at a disadvantage? (because everyone deserves to be understood) Isn't it strength to have compassion, and yet withhold initial, instinctual services because it is believed to be for that person's eventual benefit?

Why do we hurt others? Is it because of strength (for that person's benefit) or weakness (selfish reasons)?

There are some things you have to let go. Not because you want to, but because you have to.

Stubbornness is a Symptom of Love

noreply@blogger.com (Kwagoo) — Sun, 03 Nov 2013 15:16:00 +0000

“She had an overwhelming desire to tell him, like the most banal of women. Don't let me go, hold me tight, make me your plaything, your slave, be strong! But they were words she could not say.

The only thing she said when he released her from his embrace was, "You don't know how happy I am to be with you." That was the most her reserved nature allowed her to express.”
― Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

Stubbornness is a symptom of love.

Even in the most blatant and outright expression of rejection, a man or woman in desperate love would cling on to the thinning fibers of what had once been a beautiful tapestry of magic and soul and love. Begging for the return of a fairy tale laid to waste, hoping that things can still be right again.

In some cases, this can still hold true. In others, that dream is a fallacy destined to damn that hopeless lover into the shriveled persona of Miss Havisham. Leaving its full weight on his or her shoulders, to carry alone, when once they were two.

Fixated in that faint glimmer of hope, twinkling faintly in that distance, this poor soul would reach to the farthest edges of the earth trying to claim that fading star - doing the wretched, the foolish, the impossible - because that is what you do to claim a dream. You do everything that you can to be worthy of that dream.

More than a year has passed me, and time, I fear, has rendered me no more wise on the ways of love.

In the past year, struggle had been a constant companion as I sifted through the stories that had drained me to my very bones. Love can be filling, it can plump up one's heart, inspire boundless joy but similarly, love can be painful, leaving you starving until your very meat feels no more than mildew clinging onto your bones that feel no sturdier than dust.

When I have decided to walk away, I realize that love is beyond complying to a dream of a perpetual tomorrows with glorified endings under a colorful rainbow of memories to come, love is taking a step back and doing what will eventually and hopefully be what's best.

In the light of this, I write not to divulge my personal story, but to share the trials of a dear friend. I had once written how she had bravely stepped out of her comfort zone to fight for a love she feared to have lost due to her failures in the past. And truly, she had painstakingly filtered her entire lifestyle to accommodate the demands that this fight entailed. As her friend, our invitations had been constantly denied so she can devote as much time to the one man she wants to prove her love to. Despite so, we often find her at her wits end, in disarray, in paranoia and in desperation, as she could not convince him completely. Several times she would admit that it was her own doing that has caused him to be so fickle-minded and unsure, and to a given degree, I would permit her this self-bashing. Nonetheless, after a year of this confused cat and mouse chase, I fear that she has already earned her stripes, and yet her guilt remains weighing her down.

What worries me is that even in the midst of this turbulent lovesick puppy dog chase, she remains unshaken in her resolution to win him back. She has completely closed down all other options of dating, and has stood her ground that there can be no other person she could possibly love the same way. As much as I can say I admire her conviction, I am concerned for her well being. In optimism, I pray that we shall one day look back on these days and laugh how ridiculous and crazy this obsession had been.

A dear guy friend of mine had shared this truth with me previously, of which I wish to impart to her:

“If he’s not calling you, it’s because you are not on his mind. If he creates expectations for you, and then doesn't follow through on little things, he will do same for big things. Be aware of this and realize that he’s okay with disappointing you. Don’t be with someone who doesn't do what they say they’re going to do. If he’s choosing not to make a simple effort that would put you at ease and bring harmony to a recurring fight, then he doesn't respect your feelings and needs. “Busy” is another word for “asshole.” “Asshole” is another word for the guy you’re dating. You deserve a f*cking phone call.”

“A man who wants to make a relationship work will move mountains to keep the woman he loves”
― Greg Behrendt, He's Just Not That Into You"

The asymmetric exchange of personal investment in a relationship surely would cause one party to feel short-changed; and the fulfilling exuberance of giving becomes emotionally burdensome - doubt begins to seep in, questions begin to surface, conversations begin to be guarded - how can love possibly survive in constant withdrawal? Milan Kundera, my go-to love expert, writes, "No love can survive muteness", and I fear, the muteness of thoughts, the stifling of feelings, the hindrance of love will eventually poison a person to madness.

Stubborness is a symptom of love; but permit me to end this little discourse with the more civilized tongue of once again, Milan Kundera:

"But when the strong were too weak to hurt the weak, the weak had to be strong enough to leave."

Plugged In My Own World

noreply@blogger.com (Kwagoo) — Sun, 06 Jan 2013 14:29:00 +0000

Pulling out my blog from the attics of cyber oblivion and opening it once again for public consumption, I'd like to resume my postings with an artwork I have recently completed.

One of my favorite personal quotes is, "It is in silence that I know myself, perhaps in my silence, you shall know me as well." Thoughts run deep when you are locked in your own world of contemplation. In your own world - where there are no eyes to judge, no ears to eavesdrop, no tongues to gossip. Where the most unbearable noises come only from your own heart, and it is only yourself who can tame its laments. In one's absence from external affairs, in one's absence from social compromising and relationship building, introversion manifests and nothing feels better than being alone in one's room, diving into the depths of one's thoughts and soul. Alone, but definitely not lonely.

There are days when I wish I can plug out the outside cacophonies and demands that drain out my energy and at time, wits, and tend to my internal affairs. Such opportunities are rare, and often neglected even when the occasional chance would strut by. I guess my three month-long restrain from internet socializing and my withdrawal from certain social groups has provided me with sufficient rest and thought, as well as enough time to return to my roots. Music and art.

I've often run to them in my times of trial, and have taken them for granted on days of happiness and plenty. They've kept loyal to me though, and have once again provided their guidance in these days of emotional famine. My friends have engrossed me in all sorts of artistic endeavors that have surprised me - these, I intend to postpone or decline publication depending on necessity and mood.

As for my first 2013 art, I would have to pray forgiveness for its rather unclean look - it is not of my common styles. Firstly, I don't normally draw humans, as I've always been on the abstract side - more on doodling, to be honest. Secondly, I'm trying out a new Photoshop coloring technique, which I learned from my siblings - and changing a few of their styles to suit my own. Plugged is the outcome, and I'm fairly pleased how it came out.

I'll post the unedited, original sketch soon.

Break of Day

noreply@blogger.com (Kwagoo) — Mon, 10 Sep 2012 04:39:00 +0000

For some odd reason, this poem has been running in my head since last Saturday. A grade three poem my mom made me memorize for class, that has remained with me for almost two decades.

Break of Day by John Donne

STAY, O sweet, and do not rise ;
The light that shines comes from thine eyes ;
The day breaks not, it is my heart,
Because that you and I must part.
Stay, or else my joys will die,
And perish in their infancy.

Godzilla

noreply@blogger.com (Kwagoo) — Tue, 07 Aug 2012 15:58:00 +0000

"When it rain and rain and rain and rains,
More than this,
Baby I hate days like" - Mika, Rain

As much as I'm hoping Chantecler would be rock-a-doodling me a "Sun Do Shine" tomorrow morning, I have pretty much resigned myself to the idea that tomorrow will be another cold, wet, wet, wet day. Right now, today's nonstop army of water bombs have tempered down into a stop-and-go of rain.

With flood water inundating most of the city, government officials have already issued a suspension of classes in varying levels depending on the gravity of the situation in their community for tomorrow. Whether or not it pours, surely, tomorrow would be a very busy day for everyone - cleaning up the aftermath of today's events.

I have no illusions that tomorrow will no longer render me another escape from my pencil pushing and I'm bound to face reality - as well as the big question of whether or not I'd be able to get back home if the weather decides to throw a major hissy fit. (First question's first, if the red sea would either subside overnight or let me conjure up a Moses to get to the office) Nonetheless, I'm taking up the last few minutes of my freedom to do something I've been meaning to do for quite sometime now - a little exhibition for my childhood toy, Godzilla.

Godzilla made up a big chunk of my childhood, as were Barbie dolls - though this figure seems to be more kick-ass compared to a grotesquely unproportioned sex-icon-of-a-doll. Not to mention, it's vintage! Anyway, growing up, I've watched several Japanese Godzilla features that I can no longer squeeze out from my immediate memory - nonetheless, I've always had great respect for this mother lizard. So without further ado, my little Godzilla tribute.

Camera: Canon EOS Rebel T3
Location: Manila Memorial Cemetery, Dasmarinas, Cavite

Ludwig and Jenna

noreply@blogger.com (Kwagoo) — Tue, 07 Aug 2012 09:17:00 +0000

Recently, my dad got my siblings two puppies of a Labrador/Dalmatian breed (so he claims). Excited with the new additions, they began throwing in so many names for the new family additions. Sushi? Amen? Alleli?

Eventually, they settled for Ludwig and Jenna. And two adorable puppies they are.

Ludwig is the more sedated of the two. Jenna, I daresay is the rambunctious and whiny one. Maybe a trait I somehow contended with, arguing that it might have been brought about by her gender. Occasionally, the siblings would have them running around the house and learning to climb the stairs - I cannot describe how cute it is to watch them pull themselves up while their little fat bums hang frustratingly at the edge of the stair.

Now, for my siblings to house-train them.

Touch the Sky

noreply@blogger.com (Kwagoo) — Tue, 07 Aug 2012 06:35:00 +0000

Princess Merida: "I don't want my life to be over...I want my freedom!"

Queen Elinor: "But are you willing to pay the price your freedom will cost?"

Touch the Sky

Julie Fowlis

Brave OST

When the cold wind is calling

And the sky is clear and bright

Misty mountains sing and beckon,

"Lead me out into the light"

I will ride, I will fly

Chase the wind and touch the sky

I will fly

Chase the wind and touch the sky

Where dark woods hide secrets

And mountains are fierce and bold

Deep waters hold reflections

Of times lost long ago

I will hear their every story

Take hold of my own dream

Be as strong as the seas are stormy

And proud as an eagle's scream

I will ride, I will fly

Chase the wind and touch the sky

I will fly

Chase the wind and touch the sky

Life is Divine Chaos

noreply@blogger.com (Kwagoo) — Tue, 07 Aug 2012 06:31:00 +0000

"Choosing to live your life by your own choice is the greatest freedom you will ever have." - Anonymous

Often times when I am in need of a release from the tensions of work, I'd friend-hop across the office for some QT with some trusted tongues. One such peer happened to have this little quotation magnet on her wall..

"Life is Divine Chaos. Embrace it.

Forgive yourself. Breathe.

And enjoy the ride.."

Life is too short to be keep bringing yourself down.
Life is too short... to keep regretting.

Rainy Tuesday

noreply@blogger.com (Kwagoo) — Tue, 07 Aug 2012 02:15:00 +0000

"I establish my covenant with you: Never again will all life be cut off by the waters of a flood; never again will there be a flood to destroy the earth." - Genesis 9:11

Not that I'm calling God a liar.

The weather condition here in Manila is not getting any prettier, rain keeps pouring down ceaselessly as it had been all night. Coming home from work last night, I rode with my immediate superior through EDSA, braving the god-forsaken traffic for more than three butt-flattening hours. I had feared that I might have to check in a hotel as several roads have already been blocked off and labelled as swimming pools. Thankfully, luck has been kind and I managed to arrive home in one, not-so-dry piece.

Waking up this morning, dad has groggily announced that everyone is to stay at home because of the downpour. We are not to risk anyone being a vigilante under this phenomenal circumstance. Twitter is abuzz with updates, as the main arteries of the metro are already submerged in rain water; a good portion of the streets are no longer deemed passable. Travelling to work under this situation is an obsessive suicide.

I had already sent an SMS to my immediate superior begging off work for the day - and even without receiving a response, have assumed to have been let off the hook. Nonetheless, she updated me and my colleagues mid day to inform us that as per our company's Human Resource, our offices are all open for employees who would care to come in. As for those who wish to be a bit more lazy-boned, focusing on their personal safety than their professional obligations, then the absence would be charged to our vacation leave credits (which I have already, so conveniently used up). I have also sent out a mass text to my colleagues informing them of my absence for the day and wishing them good health under this abhorrent weather - of which one of them responded with a why-u-no-come-to-work-while-we-all-were-able-to? Seeing the state of the city being up in red alert now, I am nursing my pride with a very satisfied schadenfreude.

Imagining the thousands of Filipino residents scrambling outside keeping their lives in order as their houses become encroached with rain water and garbage, I wonder if there is anything that I can do instead of just stay at home comfortably with a cup of hot chocolate and type away infront of my laptop.

It is kind of crippling to think, how in the world can I possibly extend a helping hand to those who are in need but at the same time, be safely tucked away in my own home with all my family and loved ones. Often times, we would resolve to donate some goods for charity during the aftermath of the craziness, after someone has already lost a leg, a car, a home, a family, a loved one. Then again, I can always be the hypocrite who preaches and still lazes about in my own little comfort nook.

Eric Greiten wrote in his admirable book, Heart and Fist, "If not me, then who?". Then again, if everyone thought the same way, I can safely answer, "The next guy asking the same question."

Although not very altruistic, I decided to do my immediate world a favor and clean up my room and other things that require my attention. This rain has served a perfect opportunity to straighten up my life somehow. As they say, you do not need to do big things to do great things. My life is in need of such great things.

2 Decades Ago.. and Now..

noreply@blogger.com (Kwagoo) — Sun, 22 Jul 2012 16:19:00 +0000

My childhood crush just got married today.

Equality

noreply@blogger.com (Kwagoo) — Sun, 15 Jul 2012 17:26:00 +0000

We are all naked, underneath our clothes.

This Side of Paradise

noreply@blogger.com (Kwagoo) — Sat, 07 Jul 2012 17:29:00 +0000

If you're lonely, come be lonely with me...

Love?

noreply@blogger.com (Kwagoo) — Sat, 07 Jul 2012 15:52:00 +0000

"When you meet somebody and you just get that feeling like you've known them forever. And they're definitely a part of your life and you can't imagine life without them and you want to be with them every minute of everyday and share everything with them, That's love."

- Paper Heart, 2009

Michael Cera

noreply@blogger.com (Kwagoo) — Sat, 07 Jul 2012 15:33:00 +0000

In the Pursuit of Love

noreply@blogger.com (Kwagoo) — Thu, 05 Jul 2012 16:21:00 +0000

Arriving home from a chatter filled evening with my "Quiricada" girls - a sort-of three-girl therapy session where we shamelessly become possessed with the gift of tongues and semi-truths and coach each other through our personal dark ages into our individual epiphanic renaissances, I am filled with awe and excitement as one of the girls have taken a route not so commonly taken - in the pursuit of love.

In a seemingly desperate fit to win back the man she thought to have lost years back, she spontaneously booked a ticket for a flight tomorrow to meet him - without plans, without any guarantees - just that adrenaline pumped leap of faith that things will work out. Que Sera Sera.

He had come back from another country a few days back and what she initially planned to be a very direct and innocent confrontation between the two ex-lovers have quickly blossomed into a whirlwind adventure that stands without the conventional foundations of a concrete boy-girl relationship. He had come here without the intention of seeing her, and I guess, with how things have progressed, he too, was taking his chances of seeing how things could work out the second time around.

A day after his arrival, he flew to the province to visit his family (this, he re-booked, to stay one day in Manila to spend it with her). And although they were beginning to get cozy with each other like the "good old days", minor misunderstandings have begun to rise and with the kitchen unintentionally getting a little hotter - temper wise, she decided to make the stand and try to win him back.

Friend: "Do you think it low of me to do such a thing?"
Kat: "Not at all. You are following your heart. If he is worth all the hassle, then go ahead."
Friend: "Won't that scare him?"
Kat: "It shouldn't. And it's not really about him entirely. At least, if things didn't work out (*knock on wood), you can say that you did everything you can to win him back."

When you love someone, you fight for them. You stand up for them. You take that leap of faith for them. Even in the bleakest of times, when all hope seems to have diminished, I believe that even a hint of initiative can bring down a dam full of pent-up emotions. I admire people who can valiantly pursue their love. Take on that adventure. Live without the regret that they never did enough. Live without the regret of what if's and shoulda woulda coulda's. Do what I can't seem to do for myself.

True That...

noreply@blogger.com (Kwagoo) — Thu, 05 Jul 2012 15:39:00 +0000

Happiness

noreply@blogger.com (Kwagoo) — Tue, 03 Jul 2012 16:43:00 +0000

It is common advice,
Do what would make you happy.

And if I did..
I might be struggling with infamy
Or have already been shot dead with my blood watering the pavement
Light headed and blindly high on some drug-like euphoria
Brought about by a temporary perception of happiness.

My heart pounding wildly
In ecstatic revelation of a new discovery
My blood fat with glorious indulgences
Filling every inch of me with that experience.

If I did what would make me happy,
Will I really end up happy?

Then again,
I may end up feeling like a heap of shards
Prometheus-ly incarnating back into a fragile decor
Only to fall back
Down down down
And cracking into little pieces of worthless value.

Do what would make you happy.

"Happiness is over-rated."

July 3rd

noreply@blogger.com (Kwagoo) — Tue, 03 Jul 2012 16:05:00 +0000

July 3.

It feels like the world has abandoned me.

Live Without Regrets

noreply@blogger.com (Kwagoo) — Thu, 28 Jun 2012 16:40:00 +0000

What Makes You Happy?

noreply@blogger.com (Kwagoo) — Tue, 12 Jun 2012 04:36:00 +0000

In the absence of a clear cut map in achieving my existential purpose, I resorted to piecing together fragments of advises people have been throwing at me since Day 1 of my sensibilities. I guess, our memories can be faulted for being so emotionally programmed - retaining only bits of information that have managed a strong impact on one's person. Seems that for most times, little life lessons get washed away into the big, deep ocean of our minds. Retrievable through extensive excavation, but with no guarantees of success. Other times, people's philosophies overlap into a confusing debate of what's right or wrong - the goods and the bads - the blacks and the whites - and safety of the grays in between.

In a fairly recent discourse with my dad, we've managed to touch on several issues regarding my life and future. And as much as he has given me his thoughts on matters, his wisest action (though not very relieving)is to leave the decision onto my hands. Pontius Pilate.

Again, I would live to delve into the concept of everyone going through a "solo flight" through life. Sometimes I wish I can find the auto-pilot button somewhere. Despite how our choices would ripple out into our web of connections, the most important consideration is "what makes you happy." Dad, though not outrightly pointing it out, implied how he can give me a set of limitations and corresponding penalties for all my "wrong doings", but despite those hindrances, it is my will that will set me out if I intend to strive and attain what I want. Parents, people, laws can only set out the guidelines and the consequences resulting from deviance, but life itself has no rules. The game of life is as exciting and varied as you want it to be.

Reading George Martin's Game of Thrones and Ken Follet's Pillars of the Earth, one gets thrown out of their comfort zones into absorbing behaviors that are grotesquely barbaric, but completely feasible and frighteningly understandable given the period. They're not right, but in those times, what does it mean to be "right"? What is "right"? Quite often, I find myself floating back down into Milan Kundera's world of "The Unbearable Lightness of Being". How comforting it is to be understood by someone who can pen down your feelings into paper.

Society dictates the status quo, the norms and the proper etiquette and habits, but we know ourselves too well to know what is best for us. We can either fall in line, marked with a batch number and dispatched for public consumption. We can opt to go left and right, winding around some dangerous road and disappear from worldly knowledge. We can rocket ourselves to the moon and find the hidden Transformers space craft. We can start a war, or preach peace, or become a solution. We can struggle to survive or survive to struggle. Live to love or love to live. And in the end, it is a mere question of what would fulfill us, as a person.

What makes you happy?

Green

noreply@blogger.com (Kwagoo) — Tue, 12 Jun 2012 02:30:00 +0000

Green is my favorite color. And for a myriad of reasons, I'm sure, that I cannot seem to muster out right now.

Green is alive. Green highlights beauty, though not necessarily be the object of beauty. Green is fickle. Green is selective. Green can be evil and jealous. Green can be healthy. Green can be malicious. Green can be environmental.

Green is often misunderstood.

Independence

noreply@blogger.com (Kwagoo) — Tue, 12 Jun 2012 02:11:00 +0000

Today, we celebrate the Philippine Independence Day - that momentous, though seemingly hypocritical, occasion when the Philippines has declared independence from all the nations that have prostituted it.

Despite the special celebration of this non-working holiday, I find myself tied down and boggled with an enormous work load that refuses to take its weight off my chest. My brain feels like a shapeless mush being zapped and resuscitated with whatever will power is left in my person. Honestly, I am mentally fatigued and emotionally stressed. I guess this little experiment has gotten a bit out of hand, and the results I have wished to achieve from these measures seem to have deviated from my expected outcome. Draining myself into exhaustion, though for a period, has successfully stopped me from dwelling too much on my emotional combats - has backfired and inundated with me a whole new set of chest-gripping fears and nauseating symptoms. I have tried to avoid emotional crashes prior to sleeping, but overworking myself has merited me less sleep, laden with a jumble of work-related, list-making dreams. In my wake, I find myself curling into a ball and struggling against an intangible pair of hands around my throat. And I say, when I've regained my composure, all for the love of life and work.

Thus I begin to question if this is truly the thing I deem right for myself. With work, you'll have money and with money, you can buy independence, and with independence, eventually happiness. How much independence is there in a situation where you zombie-ly drag your feet to the office, cajole frustratingly with colleagues who 90% of the time think you're a bit too alien for their comprehension, massage your brain with an overload of information until you realize you've practically bruised it black and blue and then in the late hours of the night, scrape yourself off the pavement onto a public vehicle to commute home. Rinse and repeat. And when you get your paycheck, you realize that you don't have the time to do the activities that you want. Sacrifices have been made for the sake of ambition. I say, let's raise that flag of independence high enough so everyone can see. I am a working woman. I get paid. I have money. Honestly, right now, I just feel like a whore.

In the streets, there just seems to be a hundred signs reminding people to say "No.". Say "No" to drugs. Say "No" to abortion. Say "No" to oil hikes. Say "No" to graft and corruption. But these are the bad things. How about your dreams, little girl? How about making it big, little girl? How about saving up for that rainy day, little girl? And this little girl was taught to say "Yes", because I am ambitious, because I want to experience new things, because "there is so much more to life than" what I got right now. And the cycle continues. Not fully digesting the fact that too much of anything can be detrimental until its too late to turn back.

Often times, I've been told to find the balance, not to bite off more than I can chew, temper your ambitions. I guess, right now is the time that I ought to learn that lesson. My boss, a practical though sometimes devious man, has one special reminder that I try to keep to heart.

B: Expectations from you? I only have one. I want you to wake up every morning with a desire to come to work. If you want to come to work, you'll do your best and when you're at your best, that's when the results come in.

I wake up everyday, with an optimistic thought in my head that I can contribute much to my job. And because of such, and because I've finally found him as an ear to hear out my suggestions, I felt empowered to take on my day's work. But I guess, ambition is usually the strong point as well as the weakness of the young. Once you've progressed into a longer, less fruitful tenure, you realize that you're at a dead end and that life will just flow in and out like clockwork. Nothing will change until the battery finally dies out on you and someone else will be hired to take your spot.

Try to imagine being young in the company of pessimism. You hear them chatter, "So what if I give my best, I will never get anywhere anyway.", "I am not of the "promote-able" race. If only I have chinky eyes, maybe that would make all the difference." And although you know they mean well in aiding you, you also acknowledge the disappearance of initiative and drive in themselves (especially seeing your youth with more years to taste and run and experience). At times, this can be very contagious.

In school, I've often felt the barbaric mental race to get to the finish line in one piece. You battle your way through sleepless nights, piles of reading materials, and maybe a whole pitcher worth of caffeine. And when you finally make your case, presenting them to your judge and master, you take that sigh of relief and wait fidgeting for your grade. And when you receive that passing mark, you would feel an overwhelming sense of relief and success envelope you like its one of the most remarkable achievements in your life. At work, it becomes a completely different scenario. Or at my work, to say the least.

With little promise of a promotion and an assured pay every month, employees eventually would lose their battle spirits. Their battle scars are for naught and complacency is the best medication for such troubles. Dealing with onerous and painstakingly meticulous details become burdensome and somehow should be omitted out of the equation, if possible. Little issues become overtly exaggerated cases of insolence and stupidity. And with such a workforce, you are bound for stagnation.

I guess, being young and noticed for my contributions, I began to push myself to this point of physical, mental and perhaps emotional atrophy. A person can only have a certain degree of economic utility before he crumbles down into an absolute pile of garbage. In a sense, I am struggling to keep the balance. So with this scenario, let me highlight the two kinds of people I see - the overworked and the complacent. It is only recent that I've attained the overworked status, of which, I initially was very grateful for. As time progressed, I find that it was more than I bargained for, and I fear, there is no one I can request a share of load with. Everyone seems preoccupied with their little tasks and personal dramas and unspoken enmities.

At the expense of my social life and health, I have sacrificed a good deal for my work - and all for the sake of ambition. The thought hits me though, should any ill fate befalls me - what would happen? The company will merely get another ambitious creature to fill in my shoes and BAM! I'm as good as another folder in the cabinet. Thus you ask, how much should you give?

As I've found in the internet, quoted by Pearl Bailey, "A man without ambition is dead. A man with ambition but no love is dead. A man with ambition and love for his blessings here on earth is ever so alive." and Frances Burney writes, "A youthful mind is seldom totally free from ambition; to curb that, is the first step to contentment, since to diminish expectation is to increase enjoyment." There is nothing wrong to be ambitious, it is the dream that we build for ourselves in realizing who we can become. But once it begins to overstep one's personal space, binding you away from things that can make you alive - alive in the sense that your senses are heightened, that your love is free to wander and your soul is at its peak in unveiling life's mysteries - then perhaps that ambition is meant for the dead.

Ambition should aid in the achievement of independence. But quite contrary in our present modern lives, our independence seems to be at the mercy of ambition. And in certain cases, we realize too late that they are two brothers helping each other out - not a father and son tandem. They exist simultaneously, and the overindulgence of one can mean the loss of the other.

Please, God.

noreply@blogger.com (Kwagoo) — Wed, 23 May 2012 16:55:00 +0000

God, please send me an angel of comfort with swift wings and is on a double espresso high.