I had the slimiest encounter with Evil Corporate America yesterday. They love to lure you in with professions of serving you with the utmost respect but the system is designed in a way to screw with both the customer and the employees. Pissed off at the company and so tempted to yell bad bad names at their people but its employees are just foot soldiers trying to stay alive on the blood soaked battlefield. Long story short, I left the horrendously sickening Victoria Secret store on 3rd street Santa Monica Promenade in a quiet boiling rage. Tourists around me were smiling, laughing and shopping - happily sharpening the teeth of 'nice harmless grandma' who is actually the big bad wolf as he gleefully prepare to snarl "All the better to eat you with" when the time is ripe.
I got into my car and like a typical Los Angeleno, raged with the machine and its sound system.
Now if you have driven around Santa Monica before, you know that they have random pedestrian crossings along their major roads. (btw, whoever planned it that way needs his/her road planning license revoked. It's LA. Cars trumps people and so with such a predisposition, sometimes cars TRAMPLE over people)
I scowled at every red light and abused the gas pedal every chance i got. My head throbbed and my hands gripped into the rubbery portions of the steering wheel. I stared straight ahead, staring at only the car in front of me and nothing else. Didn't even know what street I was on, I just knew I was heading east. I was majorly triggered and seething...mad. In the mist of the haziness, the winged one with the ridiculous halo struggled to get my attention as it forced my lungs to take slow deep breaths and attempted to transfer the anger-induced-strength from my right leg to my jaw as I bit down on my left fist, hard. All my focus was on the car in front of me but as some of the haze dissipated, my eyes relaxed and noticed that the cars on the other lanes had started braking. Suddenly I felt like I going too fast. Something was not right. Instinctively my eyes swept all over as I slowed down. A yellow pedestrian sign was up and not too far ahead were white strips on the road. A lady and two little girls were teetering at the side of the road, trying to get to the other side with their lives and limbs intact. I rolled to a stop while taking another deep breath and trying to keep the one with the pitch fork from constructing a frustrated sneer on my face as I nodded to the lady to let her know they're safe to pass.
She lifted her hand in acknowledgment, nodded and...smiled. As the Mary Poppins-esque lady walked forward, her girls -blissfully unaware of the veins that moments ago were popping out of my neck - looked at me, smiled and started skipping alongside their guardian.
The winged one with the ridiculous halo gave me a pointed look while the one with the pitch fork suddenly went missing.
"Ahh what the hell," I thought to myself, "I'm going to get some Jamba Juice."
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Friday, April 23, 2010
The Killing M.O
When I was under 6 (cant remember the exact age) I was watching a Batman cartoon. It was the first time they introduced The Joker and this Joker ain't wacky Jack Nicholson or even murderous Heath Ledger. He was worse. He was evilly scary, his manic laughter along with that psychotic smile scarred the living shit out of my child's mind. I was terrified for days, haunted in fact. I couldn't go to my parents because I knew that my parents would not be able to allay my fears as they would be more concerned about preventing me from watching 'scary stuff on tv again' aka 'no more watching tv.' I guess it's easier to not expose a child to the 'evils of the world' rather than educating and reassuring a child that scary things that go bump in the night are not necessarily to be feared.
How did I cope? When they say that the mind is capable of powerful things, they are not kidding.
When an unwanted memory or an unpleasant thought springs up in my mind, I've trained my mind so well that I am actually able to force it out or just bury it quick before it can linger. No thinking, no hurting's the Modus Operandi. It wasn't easy at first, The Joker stayed in there for quite a while. But as the years passed and more things happened, I got better with time and practice.
Yet somewhere deep down in my gut something tells me that it's mentally unhealthy.
Oh dear.
How did I cope? When they say that the mind is capable of powerful things, they are not kidding.
When an unwanted memory or an unpleasant thought springs up in my mind, I've trained my mind so well that I am actually able to force it out or just bury it quick before it can linger. No thinking, no hurting's the Modus Operandi. It wasn't easy at first, The Joker stayed in there for quite a while. But as the years passed and more things happened, I got better with time and practice.
Yet somewhere deep down in my gut something tells me that it's mentally unhealthy.
Oh dear.
Friday, April 16, 2010
A Dog called Mr B
When I was growing up, I've never had a cat or a dog because my father did not want them in the house. So pets I had were fishes and tortoises. The fishes always die quick and mysteriously, I've had so many I've lost count. Yet I always remember the ones that lasted. How, you ask? Well, see, when the fishes died I would flush them down the toilet, quick and easy, it was just like they were never there. Out of all the fishes that died, only two I buried with handmade cardboard headstones and one of them lasted long enough for me to have named.
Can you imagine being a child and having a pet, something you care enough to feed everyday and change its water every so often but not allowing yourself to get too attached to it by naming it lest it died on you, again? What do you think a child learns from such experiences?
That fish was the only pet I've ever named. After that, I had a tortoise. I had it for a long while. But one day it had to go as it got too big. My dad drove me and my sister to the pond. As I took that tortoise out and placed it on the grass next to the pond, a sudden unfamiliar emotion took over me. I did not recognize or understand this emotion but it was strong, too strong. It took all of my being to 'be normal' and it took my father a while to realize that I was not ok.
Throughout this time, I had violin lessons every Sunday at my teacher's place and one day his family rescued a kitten. It was black and white, furry little thing was the size of my palm. I started going to lessons early just to play with it. Violin lessons became less dreary. But one day it disappeared, without a reason. My new found yearnings for Sundays disappeared as well.
I didnt have a pet ever since. Whenever people starts aww-ing at animals I stand apart, as emotionally dead as a doornail. After a while I realized that I couldn't do that, lest someone decides to ask me why I'm as such so I got pretty good at faking "Oh so cuteeeee!!!" I even mastered the eyebrows and hand to the heart action.
Now, a friend of mine has a bulldog (let's call him 'Mr B') and when my friend had to go out of town he would need someone to take care of Mr B. Simple stuff - change his pee pad, fill up his water and food bowl and take him out for walks. Mr B is usually taken care of by my other friends but once in a while I got asked when everyone else was unavailable. My early encounters with Mr B were few and far in between and they were strictly business - I'm doing a favor for a friend, that was it. No talking, no petting and no playing. However, recently my exposure to Mr B increased. Our relationship... grew. In the beginning I would just stare at him without saying a word for a long time. He would sit and fidget, panting/breathing/slobbering like how bulldogs do but once in a while he would just stop and look back at me. Our eyes would lock, almost like we were playing a game of who would look away first. Soon, I started calling his name more often which led to me starting to talk to him. "Let's go for a walk now, Mr B." or "Are you thirsty? Ok, fine I'll fill your water bowl up." or "Mr B, do you know you shit alot?"
One thing led to another and soon whenever I go over to my friend's place to take care of Mr B I started to stay there longer. I would play with him and spend significant time doing nothing else but rubbing his head and neck. When I'm sitting at the edge of the bed with my Mac he would come by and rest his head by my feet. Sometimes I would absent minded-ly just rub/pet his head without even looking over. I don't know if he likes what I'm doing but he didn't bite me so I guess it's alright with him.
Last night it was dinner at my friend's place. A bunch of us went over and some were helping out in the kitchen. I asked to use the computer by the table in the living room to check out the recipe of the dessert my friend was making. His boyfriend (let's call him S) was on the couch typing away at his computer. S spends the weekends there so he has alot more exposure to Mr B than I do. Mr B wandered about, tottering in and out of the kitchen and living room, probably perplexed and excited at this sudden influx of people. As I started reading the recipe, Mr B came by sniffling at me. I looked down and a small smile grew. He sniffled some more, circled by me a few times and suddenly, he laid down next to my feet resting his head on the floor. It didn't occur to me what this meant until S stopped typing and looked up at us across the room.
"Hey, he loves you!"
I froze. "What?" I looked over to S across a spacious and empty living room and then down at Mr B. Mr B just blinked. I paused for a long while, without a reply. I think my silence puzzled S. He didn't know that it took ME a while to realize what I felt.
It took me a while to realize that I felt my heart...swell.
Can you imagine being a child and having a pet, something you care enough to feed everyday and change its water every so often but not allowing yourself to get too attached to it by naming it lest it died on you, again? What do you think a child learns from such experiences?
That fish was the only pet I've ever named. After that, I had a tortoise. I had it for a long while. But one day it had to go as it got too big. My dad drove me and my sister to the pond. As I took that tortoise out and placed it on the grass next to the pond, a sudden unfamiliar emotion took over me. I did not recognize or understand this emotion but it was strong, too strong. It took all of my being to 'be normal' and it took my father a while to realize that I was not ok.
Throughout this time, I had violin lessons every Sunday at my teacher's place and one day his family rescued a kitten. It was black and white, furry little thing was the size of my palm. I started going to lessons early just to play with it. Violin lessons became less dreary. But one day it disappeared, without a reason. My new found yearnings for Sundays disappeared as well.
I didnt have a pet ever since. Whenever people starts aww-ing at animals I stand apart, as emotionally dead as a doornail. After a while I realized that I couldn't do that, lest someone decides to ask me why I'm as such so I got pretty good at faking "Oh so cuteeeee!!!" I even mastered the eyebrows and hand to the heart action.
Now, a friend of mine has a bulldog (let's call him 'Mr B') and when my friend had to go out of town he would need someone to take care of Mr B. Simple stuff - change his pee pad, fill up his water and food bowl and take him out for walks. Mr B is usually taken care of by my other friends but once in a while I got asked when everyone else was unavailable. My early encounters with Mr B were few and far in between and they were strictly business - I'm doing a favor for a friend, that was it. No talking, no petting and no playing. However, recently my exposure to Mr B increased. Our relationship... grew. In the beginning I would just stare at him without saying a word for a long time. He would sit and fidget, panting/breathing/slobbering like how bulldogs do but once in a while he would just stop and look back at me. Our eyes would lock, almost like we were playing a game of who would look away first. Soon, I started calling his name more often which led to me starting to talk to him. "Let's go for a walk now, Mr B." or "Are you thirsty? Ok, fine I'll fill your water bowl up." or "Mr B, do you know you shit alot?"
One thing led to another and soon whenever I go over to my friend's place to take care of Mr B I started to stay there longer. I would play with him and spend significant time doing nothing else but rubbing his head and neck. When I'm sitting at the edge of the bed with my Mac he would come by and rest his head by my feet. Sometimes I would absent minded-ly just rub/pet his head without even looking over. I don't know if he likes what I'm doing but he didn't bite me so I guess it's alright with him.
Last night it was dinner at my friend's place. A bunch of us went over and some were helping out in the kitchen. I asked to use the computer by the table in the living room to check out the recipe of the dessert my friend was making. His boyfriend (let's call him S) was on the couch typing away at his computer. S spends the weekends there so he has alot more exposure to Mr B than I do. Mr B wandered about, tottering in and out of the kitchen and living room, probably perplexed and excited at this sudden influx of people. As I started reading the recipe, Mr B came by sniffling at me. I looked down and a small smile grew. He sniffled some more, circled by me a few times and suddenly, he laid down next to my feet resting his head on the floor. It didn't occur to me what this meant until S stopped typing and looked up at us across the room.
"Hey, he loves you!"
I froze. "What?" I looked over to S across a spacious and empty living room and then down at Mr B. Mr B just blinked. I paused for a long while, without a reply. I think my silence puzzled S. He didn't know that it took ME a while to realize what I felt.
It took me a while to realize that I felt my heart...swell.
Friday, April 9, 2010
An eye for an eye, is the Death Penalty blind?
An eye for an eye, is that right?
There are many excellent arguments for it to exist yet there are just as many arguments for it not to. Many of the arguments either way have different sociological reasoning pertaining to specific countries. Strip all of that away for the death penalty is black and white. One is either in for it, or against it. Just like how one is either pregnant or not pregnant, dead or not dead. There is no in-between. If you say you are against it but would be for it when it comes to convicted serial baby killers, that means you are FOR it. That also means that if you say that you are NOT for it, you have to mean it when it's regarding a smiling psychopath who left no one with similarities to your DNA alive and every other person you care for broken.
The place where I come from 'is believed to have the world’s highest per capital execution rate, relative to its population' as stated in a 2004 Amnesty International report.
People get executed. I grew up with that notion. They tie a noose around your neck and look at a chart to figure out how to snap your neck instead of slowly strangling you to death. It was a fact of life. It was expected, it was the norm and it was the law. Yes, ever since I could form a rational thought I felt it was harsh and I did think that maybe case by case judging would make it less horrible. Yet I've never committed to that line of thought. Because it's a slippery slope. One is either in for it, or against it. There is no in-between.
I stand by Amnesty International - oppose the death penalty worldwide in all cases without exception.
There are many excellent arguments for it to exist yet there are just as many arguments for it not to. Many of the arguments either way have different sociological reasoning pertaining to specific countries. Strip all of that away for the death penalty is black and white. One is either in for it, or against it. Just like how one is either pregnant or not pregnant, dead or not dead. There is no in-between. If you say you are against it but would be for it when it comes to convicted serial baby killers, that means you are FOR it. That also means that if you say that you are NOT for it, you have to mean it when it's regarding a smiling psychopath who left no one with similarities to your DNA alive and every other person you care for broken.
The place where I come from 'is believed to have the world’s highest per capital execution rate, relative to its population' as stated in a 2004 Amnesty International report.
People get executed. I grew up with that notion. They tie a noose around your neck and look at a chart to figure out how to snap your neck instead of slowly strangling you to death. It was a fact of life. It was expected, it was the norm and it was the law. Yes, ever since I could form a rational thought I felt it was harsh and I did think that maybe case by case judging would make it less horrible. Yet I've never committed to that line of thought. Because it's a slippery slope. One is either in for it, or against it. There is no in-between.
I stand by Amnesty International - oppose the death penalty worldwide in all cases without exception.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Knowledge is a priceless and expensive power
Being unemployed is hard. Well, duh. Know what that can be worse? Being unemployable with an overpriced University education and crushing debt which will take me at least a decade to pay off, more so if said unemployment continue. Some people graduate with presents showered upon them like a reward for going through a terrible hardship. Others hold on to the end, the Walk as the solo reward for not falling apart or giving in to stress induced eating disorders, socially and financially induced mental/emotional problems or escapism of the drug and alcoholic kinds.
Even so, these doesn't matter. It seems to me that the real test of one's strength and sanity comes not from trying to graduate but from trying to get one's life started after all that tedious preparation.
Before I went to University, I had a Diploma in Film production. I then went on to secure a pretty decent job in a Post production house. But yet I still dreamed of working in the business side of Television. However it was impossible because I didn't have a BFA. So I was faced with a dilemma. Should I stay with my fast rising career in the post production industry as I had mastered all the specific technical skills or shall I take a chance, get heavily in debt and pursue a BFA which is the supposed gateway to more lucrative and desirable opportunities?
I honestly think that an education is necessary as Knowledge is power. I've learned how American politics work, which in turn allow me to be better informed when making decisions about things affecting my life. I've learned to be a better person to other people from all the blunders from unfamiliar socializing events/situations. I've learned self control and mental discipline when it comes to temptations. I know I'm lucky, I appreciate all I've been allowed to experience and I know I'll land on my feet regardless. Plenty of mistakes were made when I was in University but none I regret for priceless life lessons were learned but this current wasteland of dying hopes after countless cover letters and job applications might just do me in. I already have the ambition and the dedication - which is part of my genetic programming as exemplified by my relentless hunting - and have acquired the skills and the education, yet it seems it's not enough. I am extremely grateful to even be able to go to college yet right now, I can't help feeling indignant that it is costing me so much already both financially and mentally which makes my biggest fear about it continuing to do so till I no longer see the decision I made years ago as something I do not regret.
Even so, these doesn't matter. It seems to me that the real test of one's strength and sanity comes not from trying to graduate but from trying to get one's life started after all that tedious preparation.
Before I went to University, I had a Diploma in Film production. I then went on to secure a pretty decent job in a Post production house. But yet I still dreamed of working in the business side of Television. However it was impossible because I didn't have a BFA. So I was faced with a dilemma. Should I stay with my fast rising career in the post production industry as I had mastered all the specific technical skills or shall I take a chance, get heavily in debt and pursue a BFA which is the supposed gateway to more lucrative and desirable opportunities?
I honestly think that an education is necessary as Knowledge is power. I've learned how American politics work, which in turn allow me to be better informed when making decisions about things affecting my life. I've learned to be a better person to other people from all the blunders from unfamiliar socializing events/situations. I've learned self control and mental discipline when it comes to temptations. I know I'm lucky, I appreciate all I've been allowed to experience and I know I'll land on my feet regardless. Plenty of mistakes were made when I was in University but none I regret for priceless life lessons were learned but this current wasteland of dying hopes after countless cover letters and job applications might just do me in. I already have the ambition and the dedication - which is part of my genetic programming as exemplified by my relentless hunting - and have acquired the skills and the education, yet it seems it's not enough. I am extremely grateful to even be able to go to college yet right now, I can't help feeling indignant that it is costing me so much already both financially and mentally which makes my biggest fear about it continuing to do so till I no longer see the decision I made years ago as something I do not regret.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
And then there were two
Last Monday, my favorite CW show moved from its 9pm slot to 8pm, thereby forcing me to decide between it and HOUSE on FOX. I was annoyed. In an unemployed world where life is dreary and friends' recent conversations failing to jolt my bored senses, these two television shows are the closest things resembling a form of a challenge to my masochistic brain. Yes, some people may say that I should start finding offscreen/real life/actual human forms of debate and interaction. I'll have you know that I am mildly successful in that department but one's opinion of insight towards an external subject ironically also tells a little too much about the internal workings of one's mind which can be easily twisted by well meaning but preconceiving friends. Sometimes it's nicer with a blank slate when you just want to try figure out an answer to a question instead of trying to manage expectations.
And so, when "Life Unexpected" opened up with a montage of Cate getting out of bed and spontaneously packing up reminders (loving photos and heart-shaped trinkets) of Ryan, the first thing that stuck me was...the big tin box in which everything was put in and then left in the closet. It wasn't just a simple brown cardboard box or a box that was originally used to pack plates. This box was unique, well kept and actually lying somewhere in the house, ready to be used someday. Like a crazy person, I asked her/my tv, "Where did that tin box come from?" Near the end of the episode, Ryan has an epiphany and asks Cate the next question I was planning to ask her/my tv, "The real question is, what the hell is wrong with you?" Now, let me just say that the closet feminist in me really DO NOT LIKE it when in tvland it seems that the female is always the one who screwed up (in this case, Cate cheated via drunk/tipsy sex with another consenting male who is the father of her possibly-one-night-stand-child and said male was unaware of the existence of her BF/fiancé aka Ryan) but this affliction, offscreen, is gender-blind. Ryan (or rather, the screenwriter) articulated it perfectly - "Don't bother trying to fix us Cate, just fix yourself."
People screw up. That's a given fact of life. No one is perfect and most of the time, no one really knows why they screwed up. Life is not an episode of HOUSE. People don't magically understand their own labyrinth of intentions, desires and fears perfectly. The lucky ones figure out why they screwed up. The smart ones learn from it, albeit after the fact. The well adjusted ones don't do it again. I wish I were all three about all my own screw ups. I believe that screwing up is just being human. But if one goes into something preparing oneself to screw up, preparing a big tin box somewhere in one's mind, that's when one needs some fixing.
So please, until you do or at least start to do, don't get into another relationship. Everyone has their own shit to deal with, making them deal with yours is unfair, cruel and selfish. Two had been hurt already, don't make it three.
And so, when "Life Unexpected" opened up with a montage of Cate getting out of bed and spontaneously packing up reminders (loving photos and heart-shaped trinkets) of Ryan, the first thing that stuck me was...the big tin box in which everything was put in and then left in the closet. It wasn't just a simple brown cardboard box or a box that was originally used to pack plates. This box was unique, well kept and actually lying somewhere in the house, ready to be used someday. Like a crazy person, I asked her/my tv, "Where did that tin box come from?" Near the end of the episode, Ryan has an epiphany and asks Cate the next question I was planning to ask her/my tv, "The real question is, what the hell is wrong with you?" Now, let me just say that the closet feminist in me really DO NOT LIKE it when in tvland it seems that the female is always the one who screwed up (in this case, Cate cheated via drunk/tipsy sex with another consenting male who is the father of her possibly-one-night-stand-child and said male was unaware of the existence of her BF/fiancé aka Ryan) but this affliction, offscreen, is gender-blind. Ryan (or rather, the screenwriter) articulated it perfectly - "Don't bother trying to fix us Cate, just fix yourself."
People screw up. That's a given fact of life. No one is perfect and most of the time, no one really knows why they screwed up. Life is not an episode of HOUSE. People don't magically understand their own labyrinth of intentions, desires and fears perfectly. The lucky ones figure out why they screwed up. The smart ones learn from it, albeit after the fact. The well adjusted ones don't do it again. I wish I were all three about all my own screw ups. I believe that screwing up is just being human. But if one goes into something preparing oneself to screw up, preparing a big tin box somewhere in one's mind, that's when one needs some fixing.
So please, until you do or at least start to do, don't get into another relationship. Everyone has their own shit to deal with, making them deal with yours is unfair, cruel and selfish. Two had been hurt already, don't make it three.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Of Mice and Love
I have a friend. She can be quite the asshole, even to her friends at times. But I've always looked up to her because she's brave, fearless and beneath the asshole exterior, she's actually pretty just and sound in her convictions.
However, 4 years ago she got tangled up in a rather messy romantic predicament. The other day I called her and guess what? Status quo. Which made me wonder.
Why do people - smart strong and sturdy people - become blinded little mice when it comes to affairs of the heart (and/or chase of the orgasm?)
Let's talk about affairs of the heart in this case shall we? So some people call this phenomenon "Love" or rather, "Falling in Love." Ever since Man was able to sing, tell stories and write, epic songs, teary movies and cryptic poems of Love have been forced into existence. I don't think I need to repeat all the different types of reactions towards Love because it will take me probably a few more blog posts than blogger.com can handle. But one thing is common. It makes people...different from their usual self. It makes them way too happy, it hurts way too much and it changes them.
And that scare the shit out of me. Has anyone not gone through their teenage years, struggling with puberty and for the first time in their life trying to figure out their identity? The fundamental question of "Who am I?" resonate in our everyday life through our actions, our thoughts and our reactions to situations. When someone asks you who you are, do you say "I'm JW, college graduate." or do you say "I'm JW, 24." or do you say "I'm JW, girls frighten me." Remember when all these started? Yes, that moment of self awareness when you realized that you are not a jock or a cheerleader but neither are you the science geek or a social misfit. You were in fact the sporty friendly runner AND the antsy "woe is me and this cruel world" artist. Now, a homeless man asks you for change. Do you ignore his existence and walk away? What a jerk. Do you stop and talk to him? Wow, how kind. Do you give him all your change and more? Dude, schmuck much? All these little things you do tells you so much about who you are and who you don't want to be. It has taken you forever to somewhat figure out who you are and be somehow semi well adjusted with your identity when suddenly one day...
A person enters your life.
And you realized you started doing things you thought you will never do. You start saying mushy stuff in public ("It makes me all mushy inside my heart that you got jealous like that"), you start canceling on friends the last minute (thereby being a total DOUCHEBAG for breaking the BRO CODE) just because he/she wanted to see you and you spend a month's worth of income on an anniversary present. (so much money on anything that's not essential is vulgar no matter what.)
And that's the good part of it. Which is totally fine should it sit well in your soul and it makes you happy but when things go wrong, that's when you realize who you are. Do you do things he/she doesn't like on purpose just to get a reaction out of him/her? Do you let the lie slip? Do you risk letting her/him hurt you again after he/she apologizes? How do you deal with such... adversariness? Nothing can be more confusing than when dealing with matters of pain that is also a subject of affection.
Would the 'old' you choose the same choices? If not, then who are you now? Do you like who you've become? Are you really who you've become? Have you become a blinded little mouse or were you one all along?
However, 4 years ago she got tangled up in a rather messy romantic predicament. The other day I called her and guess what? Status quo. Which made me wonder.
Why do people - smart strong and sturdy people - become blinded little mice when it comes to affairs of the heart (and/or chase of the orgasm?)
Let's talk about affairs of the heart in this case shall we? So some people call this phenomenon "Love" or rather, "Falling in Love." Ever since Man was able to sing, tell stories and write, epic songs, teary movies and cryptic poems of Love have been forced into existence. I don't think I need to repeat all the different types of reactions towards Love because it will take me probably a few more blog posts than blogger.com can handle. But one thing is common. It makes people...different from their usual self. It makes them way too happy, it hurts way too much and it changes them.
And that scare the shit out of me. Has anyone not gone through their teenage years, struggling with puberty and for the first time in their life trying to figure out their identity? The fundamental question of "Who am I?" resonate in our everyday life through our actions, our thoughts and our reactions to situations. When someone asks you who you are, do you say "I'm JW, college graduate." or do you say "I'm JW, 24." or do you say "I'm JW, girls frighten me." Remember when all these started? Yes, that moment of self awareness when you realized that you are not a jock or a cheerleader but neither are you the science geek or a social misfit. You were in fact the sporty friendly runner AND the antsy "woe is me and this cruel world" artist. Now, a homeless man asks you for change. Do you ignore his existence and walk away? What a jerk. Do you stop and talk to him? Wow, how kind. Do you give him all your change and more? Dude, schmuck much? All these little things you do tells you so much about who you are and who you don't want to be. It has taken you forever to somewhat figure out who you are and be somehow semi well adjusted with your identity when suddenly one day...
A person enters your life.
And you realized you started doing things you thought you will never do. You start saying mushy stuff in public ("It makes me all mushy inside my heart that you got jealous like that"), you start canceling on friends the last minute (thereby being a total DOUCHEBAG for breaking the BRO CODE) just because he/she wanted to see you and you spend a month's worth of income on an anniversary present. (so much money on anything that's not essential is vulgar no matter what.)
And that's the good part of it. Which is totally fine should it sit well in your soul and it makes you happy but when things go wrong, that's when you realize who you are. Do you do things he/she doesn't like on purpose just to get a reaction out of him/her? Do you let the lie slip? Do you risk letting her/him hurt you again after he/she apologizes? How do you deal with such... adversariness? Nothing can be more confusing than when dealing with matters of pain that is also a subject of affection.
Would the 'old' you choose the same choices? If not, then who are you now? Do you like who you've become? Are you really who you've become? Have you become a blinded little mouse or were you one all along?
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Queerly beloved
A friend of mine is getting married and yesterday at a nice chillout place where we all like to hang out was the impromptu wedding planning. When you have a table full of straight girls with token queers and straight boys, expect to have loud squealing while the tokens' bemused faces look around the not-so-chill-after-all-place apologetically.
First there was the shopping list, then there was the invitation list which led to the job/duties list. It tickles me that I'm in charge of the bachelor party while my gay guy friend (let's call him HBC) is in charge of the bachelorette's. The conversation then took a turn to who is going to walk my friend down the aisle as this would be a small friends-only ceremony as her family is in Hawaii and her BF's family is in Japan.
HBC and I looked at each other. And we realized, what about US? The gay ones, the ones that deify wedding conventions? Who's going to be the one getting walked down the aisle? We already would have to bear with the constant jokes of who's the MAN or WOMAN in the relationship when it's done with. So how do we decide? Do we flip a coin? While HBC and I are hypothetically speaking, I wondered out loud if it would even happen at all - should my Dad survive his disappointment-triggered-heart-attack. For a moment we were silent because HBC echoed my sentiments regarding his family.
We don't know how it works for us, the queer ones. I never thought I'll even get married, ever, because it just wasn't in the cards for me, socially. I'll probably never get to introduce THE GIRL to my grandmother and watch her smile with pride like how she did when my younger sister brought her BF to Sunday brunch. I'll probably never be able to have my parents recognize/acknowledge their GRANDCHILD because I don't think I'll be a birth mother. I'll probably never have my dad 'give me away' even if I win the hypothetical coin flip. So I probably shouldn't try getting married which meant I should never let myself fall in love because it just wasn't in the cards and it hurts too much to not be able to REALLY marry someone you love.
But it took the impending straight wedding of one of my closest friends for us, me at least, to figure some of it out. It wasn't in the cards, however, there's also no fate but what we make for ourselves. (Yes, he's now the Governor of my current home, California. PS: If you are not a fan of TERMINATOR, ignore everything in these parentheses.) For that moment we were silent because HBC echoed my sentiments regarding his family but then he smiled and said " It's ok, I'll walk YOU down the aisle." And suddenly my heart swelled and everything felt right as I replied "And I'll walk YOU down your aisle." We high fived. It's the queer version of handshaking a sealed deal, fyi.
I don't know how it works but I'll figure it out as I go. The one advantage? I get to do things my way.
First there was the shopping list, then there was the invitation list which led to the job/duties list. It tickles me that I'm in charge of the bachelor party while my gay guy friend (let's call him HBC) is in charge of the bachelorette's. The conversation then took a turn to who is going to walk my friend down the aisle as this would be a small friends-only ceremony as her family is in Hawaii and her BF's family is in Japan.
HBC and I looked at each other. And we realized, what about US? The gay ones, the ones that deify wedding conventions? Who's going to be the one getting walked down the aisle? We already would have to bear with the constant jokes of who's the MAN or WOMAN in the relationship when it's done with. So how do we decide? Do we flip a coin? While HBC and I are hypothetically speaking, I wondered out loud if it would even happen at all - should my Dad survive his disappointment-triggered-heart-attack. For a moment we were silent because HBC echoed my sentiments regarding his family.
We don't know how it works for us, the queer ones. I never thought I'll even get married, ever, because it just wasn't in the cards for me, socially. I'll probably never get to introduce THE GIRL to my grandmother and watch her smile with pride like how she did when my younger sister brought her BF to Sunday brunch. I'll probably never be able to have my parents recognize/acknowledge their GRANDCHILD because I don't think I'll be a birth mother. I'll probably never have my dad 'give me away' even if I win the hypothetical coin flip. So I probably shouldn't try getting married which meant I should never let myself fall in love because it just wasn't in the cards and it hurts too much to not be able to REALLY marry someone you love.
But it took the impending straight wedding of one of my closest friends for us, me at least, to figure some of it out. It wasn't in the cards, however, there's also no fate but what we make for ourselves. (Yes, he's now the Governor of my current home, California. PS: If you are not a fan of TERMINATOR, ignore everything in these parentheses.) For that moment we were silent because HBC echoed my sentiments regarding his family but then he smiled and said " It's ok, I'll walk YOU down the aisle." And suddenly my heart swelled and everything felt right as I replied "And I'll walk YOU down your aisle." We high fived. It's the queer version of handshaking a sealed deal, fyi.
I don't know how it works but I'll figure it out as I go. The one advantage? I get to do things my way.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
"I'll call you."
You would think that by now I would know what “I’ll call you” means. And yes, I think I’ve gotten pretty blasé about it. Blasé to the point that even I unintentionally started using the phase. However, I did not expect the familiar sting of thinly disguised but sometimes genuinely apologetic rejection to surface when I heard those words repeated again several times and all recently.
What am I talking about? Yes. Job-hunting. Or Job dating as I now call it.
A well-placed ad walks into the room and your eyes perked up. You look it up and down, reading and noticing the qualities that start your slide into attraction. The ad doesn’t see you yet so you dash to the restroom, primp your cover letter and remind yourself how absolutely awesome your…assets are. You stride out of the restroom and causally find yourself next to the intended. BAM, you’re talking, you’re impressing and gasps! The intended is listening AND smiling. You present your contact and walk away without looking back to exude well adjusted-ness. Then you stop thinking about the intended and start window whoring again. But before the intended leaves the room, it swings by your table and mentions that you guys should continue the conversation in a quieter room.
Heart skips but you only allow it one beat.
The initial excitement of the scheduling of the date.
The preparation of one’s image presentation.
The fleeting thoughts of how the possible commitment will affect one’s life.
The spark of the rapport during the interview.
Then, the words that needed to be said. “We’ll call you.”
You see, the rub is that I understand. I know that there’s only one position and as qualified as I can be, that is simply not the point. I may have awesome experiences. I may hit it off with the interviewer. But that does not mean our equation is the right answer. This fellow is seeing at least a hundred more other people who may have less stellar assets but when added to the equation of person +position it equals = pretty close to right. It could be a factor of many many things. A lusty animalistic fire of rapport during the interview instead of just a spark and even the simple things like the way she talks and the sound of her laughter resounding stronger in the intended.
Am I disappointed? Yes. Do I resent what happened? No. Why? It’s simple. Relationships between people are complicated and unique. Comparison is impossible. I wasn’t there and I wasn’t part of what happened. I will never know how that chemistry worked out to that person’s benefit. And there’s nothing I can do about it, be it about dating or a job interview. But ironically I feel less pain when it comes to dating. Because I don’t wanna be with someone who would want to be with someone else more. And if that someone is miserable with me or would be happier with that someone else, who am I to stand in the way? Something forced is not how Love works. And I’ll wish them all the happiness life have to offer because that rare and wondrous thing is the only reason why life is worth living.
But job interviews bring out the darkness. Rejection is harder to take because of the willingness to settle for less. You think you can do a better job than that person. You just want the job and you’ll be willing to work later into the night than that person, take a pay cut or even do things that you hate for it. And all that is placed on the flimsy “ I’ll/We’ll call you” possibility.
I don’t resent that there’s someone better out there for you. But I resent you using that line. Please, only say things if you really mean them.
What am I talking about? Yes. Job-hunting. Or Job dating as I now call it.
A well-placed ad walks into the room and your eyes perked up. You look it up and down, reading and noticing the qualities that start your slide into attraction. The ad doesn’t see you yet so you dash to the restroom, primp your cover letter and remind yourself how absolutely awesome your…assets are. You stride out of the restroom and causally find yourself next to the intended. BAM, you’re talking, you’re impressing and gasps! The intended is listening AND smiling. You present your contact and walk away without looking back to exude well adjusted-ness. Then you stop thinking about the intended and start window whoring again. But before the intended leaves the room, it swings by your table and mentions that you guys should continue the conversation in a quieter room.
Heart skips but you only allow it one beat.
The initial excitement of the scheduling of the date.
The preparation of one’s image presentation.
The fleeting thoughts of how the possible commitment will affect one’s life.
The spark of the rapport during the interview.
Then, the words that needed to be said. “We’ll call you.”
You see, the rub is that I understand. I know that there’s only one position and as qualified as I can be, that is simply not the point. I may have awesome experiences. I may hit it off with the interviewer. But that does not mean our equation is the right answer. This fellow is seeing at least a hundred more other people who may have less stellar assets but when added to the equation of person +position it equals = pretty close to right. It could be a factor of many many things. A lusty animalistic fire of rapport during the interview instead of just a spark and even the simple things like the way she talks and the sound of her laughter resounding stronger in the intended.
Am I disappointed? Yes. Do I resent what happened? No. Why? It’s simple. Relationships between people are complicated and unique. Comparison is impossible. I wasn’t there and I wasn’t part of what happened. I will never know how that chemistry worked out to that person’s benefit. And there’s nothing I can do about it, be it about dating or a job interview. But ironically I feel less pain when it comes to dating. Because I don’t wanna be with someone who would want to be with someone else more. And if that someone is miserable with me or would be happier with that someone else, who am I to stand in the way? Something forced is not how Love works. And I’ll wish them all the happiness life have to offer because that rare and wondrous thing is the only reason why life is worth living.
But job interviews bring out the darkness. Rejection is harder to take because of the willingness to settle for less. You think you can do a better job than that person. You just want the job and you’ll be willing to work later into the night than that person, take a pay cut or even do things that you hate for it. And all that is placed on the flimsy “ I’ll/We’ll call you” possibility.
I don’t resent that there’s someone better out there for you. But I resent you using that line. Please, only say things if you really mean them.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
The right to choose and Freewill
Written as a result of being in and reading about the current Prop 8 and Pro life issues here in California/USA
--------------------
There's alot of things in life you can't choose that affect who you are. Who you grew up with and what kind of place you grew up in. But because of Freewill, you can choose what you believe in and what to do which defines who you are. That's why dissent exist and more importantly, necessary. Some people believe abortions are wrong. Ok. Some people believe Gay Marriage is wrong. Ok. Some people believe killing a person with extenuating conditions is not wrong. Ok.
But to remove choice - such that one can't abort if one choose to or get married to whoever they both choose to - is like trying to remove a God-given-right which makes it as 'wrong' as killing someone. You removed his power to choose by ending his life. One can't make choices if one's dead, can they?
In fact, anyone can kill a person if they wanted to. The tragic beauty is that no one can remove a person’s choice to kill another person. It’s just a matter of consequences. Because this God-given-right, Freewill, exist and is for everyone - including you. Your power to choose between just believing in the ‘right’ choice or acting to remove choice is a self-proven demonstration of Freewill. And that makes anyone or group that works towards removing choice a fucking hypocrite.
The redeeming beauty is that you can exercise your Freewill to remove my choice just like how someone can exercise his or her Freewill to kill another person, but I’m still here with my Freewill to make you suffer the consequences which is to fight like fuck to get back my right to choose.
--------------------
There's alot of things in life you can't choose that affect who you are. Who you grew up with and what kind of place you grew up in. But because of Freewill, you can choose what you believe in and what to do which defines who you are. That's why dissent exist and more importantly, necessary. Some people believe abortions are wrong. Ok. Some people believe Gay Marriage is wrong. Ok. Some people believe killing a person with extenuating conditions is not wrong. Ok.
But to remove choice - such that one can't abort if one choose to or get married to whoever they both choose to - is like trying to remove a God-given-right which makes it as 'wrong' as killing someone. You removed his power to choose by ending his life. One can't make choices if one's dead, can they?
In fact, anyone can kill a person if they wanted to. The tragic beauty is that no one can remove a person’s choice to kill another person. It’s just a matter of consequences. Because this God-given-right, Freewill, exist and is for everyone - including you. Your power to choose between just believing in the ‘right’ choice or acting to remove choice is a self-proven demonstration of Freewill. And that makes anyone or group that works towards removing choice a fucking hypocrite.
The redeeming beauty is that you can exercise your Freewill to remove my choice just like how someone can exercise his or her Freewill to kill another person, but I’m still here with my Freewill to make you suffer the consequences which is to fight like fuck to get back my right to choose.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)