Thursday, October 24, 2024

Barrel Of Lives - A Short Story

Nathan had spent the last ten years working in a Dubai warehouse. He was a team leader, well-liked and dependable. They said he was the best at what he did—always there to help, always picking up the slack when others fell short. But no matter how hard he tried, he always ended up just a step behind, second or third in everything that counted. At home, his efforts seemed unnoticed, his voice lost in the mundane rhythm of life. He was tired of feeling like an extra in his own story.

One day, while doing inventory, Nathan found an old barrel, dust-covered and tucked away in the back corner of the warehouse. It didn’t belong to any shipment and seemed out of place, almost forgotten. The wood was aged and worn, and the iron bands were rusted, giving it the look of something that had once held small kegs of beer, the kind that aged to perfection only to be consumed too quickly. There was an intoxicating allure to it, as if it promised to hold something potent and forbidden. It called to him like an old vice, whispering promises of escape.





Without quite knowing why, he took it home, feeling that it wasn’t just coincidence but something more. In his small apartment, Nathan pried open the lid. Inside was darkness—a darkness that shimmered and shifted like liquid, reflecting a distorted version of his face. It reminded him of the alcohol it might have once contained—seductive, dangerous, and easy to lose oneself in. When he leaned closer, he saw not just his reflection, but other versions of himself. Not the man he was, but the man he could have been.


Alternate Life 1: The Drummer

This version of Nathan was a drummer in a Manila rock band. He had taken a leap of faith years ago, leaving behind the steady warehouse job to pursue his passion. On stage, he was alive, pounding out rhythms that reverberated through dimly lit bars and echoed in the cheers of the crowd. His band wasn’t famous, but they were well-loved in the underground scene, playing gigs that left him buzzing with energy and purpose.

Nathan, the real Nathan, watched with a mix of envy and admiration. The drummer Nathan lived for the freedom and chaos, for nights that bled into mornings with the music still ringing in his ears. It was the kind of life that seemed worth the risk—a life lived on the edge, chasing dreams.


Alternate Life 2: The Corporate Climber

Another version of himself wore a suit and tie, navigating the corporate world in a tall glass building. This Nathan had pursued business, climbing the ranks of a multinational company with relentless ambition. He had a spacious condo, designer clothes, and a job title that commanded respect. He was always on the move, always busy, his calendar filled with meetings and deadlines. He carried a sense of importance that Nathan in the warehouse had never known.

Watching this, the real Nathan felt a pang of jealousy. The corporate climber was always striving for more, and even though it was exhausting, it was better than feeling stagnant. The power, the money, the recognition—it all seemed like a life of success, even if it came at the cost of long hours and endless stress.


Alternate Life 3: The Philanthropist

In another timeline, Nathan saw himself still in the Philippines, leading a small non-profit that he had built from scratch. He dedicated himself to helping street children, raising funds, and organizing outreach programs. People called him a local hero, a man who made real change happen. The work was hard but fulfilling; every child who smiled, every life he touched, was a reminder that he was making a difference.

The real Nathan watched, his heart aching with admiration and regret. Here was a version of him who had made sacrifices, who had taken the hard road to pursue something meaningful. It was a life that mattered. Or so it seemed.


The more Nathan watched, the more the weight of comparison became unbearable. The barrel’s reflections poisoned his thoughts, making his own life feel hollow. It was like alcohol, tempting him to drink deeper, to lose himself in the alternate lives where he was always more—more passionate, more successful, more important. But like alcohol, it was also corrosive, eating away at his sense of self, distorting his reality.

One night, he slammed the lid shut. He couldn’t keep looking—he had to let it go, for his own sake. Nathan carried the barrel out to his car, threw it into the trunk, and drove out toward the desert. He parked on a deserted stretch of road and rolled the barrel out into the dunes, letting it settle in the sand where it would be buried by time.

He turned back toward the car, not looking back.


Aftermath of the Alternate Lives

As the barrel lay abandoned, its dark secrets sealed away, the fates of the alternate Nathans unfolded.

The drummer Nathan’s life had always been tumultuous. Though he had lived for the music, the constant cycle of gigs, drinking, and the relentless pursuit of success took its toll. One night, exhausted and drunk, he stumbled behind the wheel and never made it home. His life ended in a crash, his dreams shattered like glass on asphalt.

The corporate climber Nathan had been so consumed by ambition that he’d ignored the warning signs. The stress, the sleepless nights, the high blood pressure—it all caught up to him one fateful evening. He collapsed in the elevator, the victim of a heart attack, and was found hours later, his phone still buzzing with unread messages.

The philanthropist Nathan had given so much of himself to the cause that he had little left. The foundation struggled financially, and he had to make sacrifices to keep it going, including his own well-being. Late one night, after yet another failed fundraising effort, he took his own life, unable to bear the weight of his unfulfilled vision.


Nathan didn’t know about their fates. He didn’t need to. He hadn’t thrown the barrel away to save them, nor to condemn them. He’d done it to save himself from the endless cycle of comparison. For the first time in weeks, he didn’t feel like he was losing. He didn’t feel like he’d won either. But as he sat down to dinner that night, and his wife asked him how his day had been, he was able to answer her without hesitation. He didn’t feel triumphant, but he felt present. And for now, that was enough.


Somewhere in the desert, the barrel lay half-buried, a relic waiting to be uncovered. It didn’t take long for a wandering traveler to find it, his curiosity piqued by the old wooden lid. He opened it, peered inside, and saw his reflection staring back—a reflection not just of himself, but of the life he could be living.

The cycle began again.





*** Hope you liked the story! 

The images accompanying this post were generated using DALL-E, an AI image generation tool by OpenAI, based on prompts I crafted to visualize elements of the story. The prompts were refined through iterative suggestions with ChatGPT to best capture the scenes I envisioned.

This story, Barrel of Lives, was developed with the help of ChatGPT, an AI writing assistant by OpenAI, which provided brainstorming and refinement suggestions based on my original concept. The final narrative is my own, shaped and guided by my vision, with AI assistance serving as a collaborative tool.

There's a growing conversation around the role of AI in the creative process, with some fearing it signals the end of human creativity. But creativity has never been about working in isolation or struggling with every step. For me, using ChatGPT and DALL-E was like having a brainstorming partner—an assistant to help organize my chaotic thoughts and give form to ideas that were otherwise a pool of unprocessed data. The AI didn't write the story or generate the images independently; it simply helped me shape and refine what was already in my mind.

The final work is a product of my creativity, fueled by my original vision, with AI as a tool that helped me explore different angles and bring those ideas to life. Far from being the 'death' of the creative process, AI served as a springboard that let me focus on crafting a meaningful story, with its suggestions merely offering guidance along the way. Creativity is subjective, and in this case, AI was part of my process, not a replacement for the human touch.

Tuesday, August 16, 2022

I'm really not okay.

Hi there. It's me again. Sounds like a Mr. Robot introduction - but it's basically what it is. This journal is basically a conversation between me and my imaginary self - projected as an audience listening to my narrative in life, assuming I'm a main protagonist.
We all know why I'm here again. Yes, that time of the month. 

That's right! Depressive Episodes.

Ever since I was a pre-teen, I used to fantasize a heroes death. For 18 years, one of the fantasies I always have is the image of me running to someone about to get hit by car, saving the person in exchange of my life. The image of dying in the streets - so surreal. I thought, it might be something about the heroes I used to see in pop culture - now I know it was never the case. It was death. I fantasize death all along.

I used to keep it to myself, but let it show somehow - about this crippling depression. Like seeking for attention or thirsting for validation, I want to let people, passive aggressively know to please, save me. I want to talk to a therapist, but doesn't have the will. I feel like, it would be the same, a waste of money.

It's unfair to be surrounded in a religious society that talking about suicidal thoughts and depression gets dismissed as "You just need God." or "You need to pray more" or "Am I not good enough for you?" or "What would people think about us?", "What about your mom, your dad, your wife, your child?", "You have a good life, you're not poor". Like as if I had any other choice. Like I love the way how it feels!? Like it's something I can turn on and turn off? Like you have to be poor to feel this way. 

I just don't understand. I am trying to, my whole life I goddamn try to understand. I tried to be good, seek purpose, fight for racism, sexism, patriarchy. Be a genuine person. I am so frustrated in this life and I can't hide it anymore. Inch by inch my mind is melting away. My soul burns. My views losing it's purpose.  

I'm sorry if anyone sees this. To see how pathetic this person you thought in social media is doing it right. I'm not okay, I hope that's okay.

Saturday, July 9, 2022

Twenty Eight Disappointment

Yesterday, the prime minister of Japan has been assassinated. I will not be a full conspiracy nut here but for sure, the reason can be altered for media's purposes - but hey, everyone, these past few years, has been in a a nutty situation lately. Anything is possible now.

While I was cooking my dinner and posting it on instagram while may or may not inadvertently requesting for sympathy on my recent petty depression and anxiety episodes I wondered and mentally wandered again - this purpose I still seek. I have an average living state, have a loving wife and a daughter that eases every sadboii persona leaking in me. I couldn't be happier - why? I. Couldn't. Be. Happier. I am happy with my life in a microscopic point of view - but I couldn't ignore the fucked up things happening outside.

I was trying to understand day trading 2 months ago - at the height of loneliness working abroad, I received a phone call that every neurons firing up, screaming drop the fucking call - yet I didn't. It was a marketing call about a day trading platform. 2 months later, today, I know they charge commissions and spread fee a bit high - although I learned a lot from them through follow up calls and emails on information regarding the trading world and current events that affecting our lives. 

I invested in this platform initially, 250 USD - few weeks, added 1000 USD and another 250 USD. It was going pretty well. I researched strategies of day trading, but I think I absorbed a merely 5% of all those youtube videos. In the end I just trust my gut when placing trades. I was gambling with extra steps. Every trade I place with a take profit, just gets it. I earned more nearly 1000 USD profits, even the broker told me I had a really good result with minimal supervision for a beginner - little did he know, I was guessing through some patterns that might not work on a second time. 

Fast forward to last June, I had few small trades - gold is my favorite and natural gas. Then I tried oil and it went ok as well - on the same day, the broker called me that the trade central forecasts oil will be a close to 124 USD per barrel. It opened at 116 USD per barrel that day and I had few bullish trades that earned me 100+ USD. It was 119 USD per barrel that time and before end of day, I opened 4 trades and low and behold, I got a call that trading central updated, US market opened that time and the prices plummeted. I tried to hedge and hold it for few days, closed my 2 opened positions on a dividend giving company (that also didn't recover up to now) - in order not to drop my margin level and blow up my account. After 3 days, I closed all my positions when it hit a little higher - I lost 800 USD that day. after that, my favorite investment, gold - which was holding to it's position more firmly (bullish) and much stable from other commodities due to Ukraine - Russian conflicts, suddenly plummeted as well. Lost 500 USD as well. That week became the most depressing day of my month. I sulk and drowned. 

Up to now, my account still didn't recover. It was not blown, but I lost my confidence in trading that recently I had highs and downs consecutively that my account is just turning into stalemate.

During these times, aside from world-wide crises, Elon Musk's narcissism and power trippings turned to Twitter. Biden made pipes of natural gas in US scarce, there was also a scarcity of a formula milk. A scarcity, of baby's milk, in the most powerful country in the world. Jesus H. Christ. Mark Zuck's Metaverse non stop advertising wanted me to delete FB, speaking of metaverse - all these crypto wankers couldn't shut up about NFT's as well. Seems like the usual breakfast - other side of the world, death, war and destruction, and other side - what's in the menu in the future of a capitalist world, exploiting the fear of missing out on these cryptobro's as per münecat. 

The strangest thing is every commodity in trading is plummeting, yet every commodity in the market, is increasing. Gold was at it's lowest in a year and still going down, but the price here in Dubai is still the same from 2 years ago. They said "invest now, gold is cheap"- yet about a year ago, I bought the same price of a gold per gram during their steady increase in trades. Is it inflation? I don't know. 

All these thoughts about our miserable current events and an amateur understanding about trades and economy, my anxiety and quarter life crisis boils down to my still never ending search for purpose.

I applied for a job, because my current company, despite the good benefits and my nice and caring recent manager, was not really good enough. After 3 years of no increase, while higher managements gets some of that yearly dough, they finally gave increase to most of us that they missed out. It was an insulting amount for a person that worked 8 years - it couldn't even catch up to the 2.5% average yearly inflation. Was I an ingrate? You decide, but if you managed to work long term who gave no incentives to overtimes, cancelled offs and a whole lot of dedication - probably because of discrimination hiding in plain sight, or because asses were not kissed - you'd be really disappointed. You know - supporting a family, by any means - yet the higher ups and those given better salaries, were having a weekly brunch and dinner buffet, buying their brand new six-figure cars, travelling to Turkey, and a business trip to Europe, while you're in this point of life that you try to eat the same food for few days until you see molds in it, really sends some kind of different messages about equality - and by the way they spam us with online trainings regarding inclusions, discriminations and a whole lot of ethics shit. Yet when there's an information leaks from the office, they first blame the Filipinos working there. 

I applied for a job. They called me, I didn't send my CV. I had a good feeling about interview, it was a better company from mine, more popular and have more budget I thought. They offered a higher position. After my fulfilling interview, they said they will keep me updated. I told to my friend and colleague about my application, hoping I can finally escape and have a better salary. After a while he probably mentioned it to his other colleague. He started 2 years ago in a smaller store, yet he had bigger salary than my friend who worked for 6 years, and from me who worked for 8 years - life is sometimes disappointing for some but really great for others. I was the former (work wise). Anyway, going back, my friend's colleague turned down the offer because it was low. So now my hopes were crushed - hoping they would consider my offer and salary expectation. But now I doubt it dearly. 

Sobering up today, I just felt that I needed to vent my disappoint with myself. All these commotions in the world, and I still get so affected by money. Comparing myself with people earning more than me believing I deserve that more than them. No matter I try to quit social media, I keep coming back for more validation. No matter I try to be less materialistic, I still care about the money. No matter I try to be stoic, I'm still a self-centered fool who gets easily disappointed when things doesn't go his way.

Economy is crashing again, and so do I. - But this happened many times already, and how hard it might be - I will still try to catch up on staying on my feet.


Wednesday, November 27, 2019

Wubba Lubba Dub Dub

Wubba Lubba Dub Dub.

Rick and Morty is always such a hit, a masterpiece and an instant cult classic. Totally how I define my life *sarcastic Rick voice*.

When life gives you lemons, life will take it back on a matter of seconds.
Yesterday, I had the greatest feeling ever at work. I had a sense of accomplishment and for the first time in many years, I felt a bit of purpose. I did a long term preparation for our long awaited annual inventory that consists of many early to late shifts of constant stock checks mixed with special events that lasts weeks and sorts of miscellaneous deeds which others of my same position are not usually being handed over or given as their actual responsibility. I took a step forward because all I get are belittlement.
"You are handling a small area" "It's should be easy" "It's nothing special"

First, fuck you all.

Second. I don't know. Again, I'm bitching in this platform. Last 4 to 5 years of insults about not being good enough is no different in what I have now. I used to work on a bigger department and I admit, I was a real whiny inexperienced baby back then. Now, I'm just a whiny experienced baby. I used to work actually in the biggest branch in the region at the time. They praise my knowledge and my ability to work on reports yet what they saw was I was slow. They never saw the details in my work that I paid real attention to, even up to the minuscule field. They only saw me sitting at the office chair, planning my long term goals making the store better - with my pending work finished, and that's what they only see. Me. Sitting. In a fucking chair. Never had real appreciation anywhere. I requested back up and my back up exceeded their expectation. Had a very mature comparison and I fucking lost. They throw me at the smallest branch, and it's the best fucking thing that ever happened to me.

I had managers that trusted my plans, and don't interfere with my suggestions unless it's against the policy. I had the creative freedom that my former store did not gave me. And guess what? I had the best and most perfect inventory results 2 years straight now. But no, it's not an achievement. I'm the fucking smallest. I'm nothing. I had it easy. I have nothing to fight for and I have nothing to lose.

Yesterday was the best day of my life like I said. Today I felt the worst. Rumour has it that the one in charge in the now biggest branch in our region, who was recently promoted, was again gonna get promoted to fill the void of one position - So he's current position will be opened. Guess who will be there? My back up 3 years ago. The same person who I am long friends with ever since we worked together, who was a drinking buddy and was really a great advisor. I am very happy. For him. But I can't be happy for me. Every day I fantasize how would I die - but now I truly feel a part of me has already been killed.


I can't feel happy for the success of others while I'm drowning of misery. Fucking pathetic.


Sunday, June 30, 2019

Stuck

*tick tock*
*tick tock*
*tick tock*

I don't really hear that often - but it's better than hearing nothing at all. Never noticed our ceiling were this close while laying on our metallic loft bed from IKEA but with a mattress left by someone we barely knew.

I'm stuck.

These days felt like one of those Tyler Durden scenarios - never asleep and never really awake. I would like to take a rest, but these goddamn eyes were stuck like fucking glue for hours in this goddamn phone waiting for something new to happen.

*tick tock*
*tick tock*
*tick tock*

Oh look, it's the next day already. I don't want this day to end yet - unfortunately, it's out of my control. I would love to have an amazing sleep right now and I really don't remember the last time I had a night of uninterrupted sleep. It's not about the noise, it's not about the silence neither - there's just this part of me that won't rest until I'm probably dead and the frustrating part is I can't figure it out.

The job doesn't tire me. Like life or like these blogs I'm writing, it just gets boring by the second.

*tick tock*

Is it time to sleep yet? Yes. It's a tiring day and I should give it a break. Maybe the day is not the culprit for this tiredness, but maybe it's life. Maybe it's all in my head.

Ever felt like your always in the middle of something?



Fuck. I'm stuck.



You know when rich people complain about "money is not everything" and "fame = depression"?
You know when poor people just feel happy about not knowing other things in life and simple things are their freedom.
You know when you're in between those two.
You're not happy for not having "enough", but the mediocrity of the life's privilege for the average makes everything anti-climatic.
I don't want to struggle really, but I'm tired of riding this road. It's not even a road. It's a train track created way ahead of me and I'm just riding along.

Not because I'm moving means I am going somewhere.


*Tick Fuckity Tock. I'm Stuck*


I don't know how to express this running frustration. Even I can't explain myself most of the time. Maybe there are things that could not be spoken, or even written in different kinds of languages.

This testimony is not helpful in whatsoever way, just a bunch of whines. I don't even know if I should publish this, or just keep it in drafts; leave it like this or make it a little bit longer? I don't know.

Damn it. I broke my favorite wristwatch today.









I'm exhausted of LIFE. 



Friday, January 25, 2019

Ars Moriendi

26th January 2019

It felt like a decade ago since I last wrote anything. It felt like a decade ago since I have felt anything as strong as what I felt now. Married now for half a year and I never felt better. Did it really feel any different though, I ask myself. 

We moved 3 times in different locations for the past year. It's exhausting honestly. Dealing in a crummy apartment that is shared with strangers. Have to deal pigeon shitting all over your balcony and newly laundered clothes. Seeing whores of all colors round up in front of the bar - though they really doesn't bother me much except of their high pitched voices shouting whenever they walk out drunk. Waking up with loud neighbors. Dealing with insensitive roommates that have heavy hands that everytime they open the fucking door is like a gunshot and everytime they step is like walking in shattered glass. 

Made new friends I wish I never got closed to. I wish I could stop being socially acceptable. The fact that getting closed to people that you regret getting closed to drains all your mental capacity slowly - getting drowned with their lives and their shitty situations. Being stuck there to agree with everything they say that you honestly disagrees to. 

I'm 25 and I'm usually friended with people 10 years older than myself since I was in my early 20's. Honestly I'm fed up with these self-righteous people trying to think they're fucking smart with their experience. I'm fed up of pretending that I fucking care with their godly opinions regarding money, relationship, politics and all those shitty lives they can't even get together. 

2018 was a reminder of those people who knew life here is useless and pathetic. Zombieboy killed himself. Several members in bands killed themselves. Every year probably has more suicides than the other. Since I was a teenager, I'm always thinking in what year will I be part of?

People thought suicide is cowardliness - I beg to differ. 

There are no week I haven't thought about. They think this was 1st world problem - maybe, I don't know. I grew up in a 3rd world country with my dad slaved in the middle east even up to now just to save me a life that he dreamed of for himself and had a mom that tried her best to be useful financially and emotionally be there for me. 

I found a wife who understands me and we have been together for more than 5 years now. Got the same job I have been complaining about that gives me a decent amount of money compared on what I might never earn if I worked in my country with the skills I have. It's true, money are a numbers game. The higher you earn, the higher your needs will be. It will never be enough no matter what your lifestyle is. 

Suicide is a brave act. I don't approve it, yet as a hypocrite like me would say, I fantasise it.
Whenever you tie that know before you hang yourself, you pull the trigger or even gather all those pills - unlike those close death encounters that your life flashes before you, instead the life you will leave behind flashes before you. The people you care about that will curse you for leaving them, the people that will grieve for a few months, years or whatever. The children that you supposed to have that you will never get to see grow up or even see them born in this world. All those accumulated anxiety in the past years will hit you all at once. It's hard. It's fucking difficult. It's fucking courageous to even think one second on departing in the world. 

No matter your beliefs are it's courageous to die in your own hands. Christianity and other religions taught people that suicide brings your soul to hell. Atheism on the hand tells you it's pitch black. Maybe the Vikings has it a different way if you sacrifice yourself you might go in Valhalla but that's a different story.

I'm tired of this life. I just want to sleep and never wake up. It's just that it hurts to know people you care about will suffer because they thought what we did is selfish, but sometimes it feels like it is also selfish of them to make us responsible for their grievance. Once I die, people might weep for weeks, grieve for months and move on in a year. Celebrate your death like its a birthday. Funny, birth and death. It's just like another viral story or a viral video. People will know what you did, or what your story but your name will be forgotten like a rumor or a story that will be passed as an urban legend.

That's usually how it goes. I hope if I'm not dead by the time that I have built a family, this depression or anxiety won't kill me as it does now. I would be very sad for leaving a family behind - though will I feel anything anyways if I'm not alive?


Monday, May 21, 2018

Children's Choices

Melancholy. I was still learning English when I heard this word. Read, rather. I'm 23. Writing in this blog few times a year - maybe even less. Should I even make a longer introduction?

To be honest I wanted to be a hit. I wanted to be popular, to be recognized, to be adored. Not for who I am personally, but for my works. For thoughts and my principles. For my hobbies, skills and potential. Who doesn't want their work to be recognized? Maybe that's where I'm lost.

One-hit-wonder. 
Fame-whoring. 
Pretentious philosophy. 
Above average.

All these delusions, I hid myself. It's my blog okay, but why does it sound so uninteresting? Well, the grammar, the quick-change-of-subject phases and the trying-hard dad jokes. I add up a little GIF and photos from my camera to make it legitimate and eye pleasing. *vomits*. Well in the beginning I wanted this to be my diary, my personal journal. Something I could observe when I grow old how my intellect changes, and how my words never develop that much. I like to read and I like to read to myself.

Anyways I've been expecting a lot to myself, I taught myself a lot of things that I thought I can be very good at. Like what I wrote on "Common Man" (I don't really know the title, too lazy to check), It's been hard to find passion - and at my age, it's very frustrating to see your fellow colleagues, fellow friend and classmates seeing develop on the things that you've witnessed when they were just starting.

At the age of 5 or so, my dad bought a small organ, the music thing not the one you find in the black market. So my mom tried to teach me, but me being basically me at a young age, I suck. I'm on a different path of Asians.
Following years, my dad brought different kinds of building blocks. 
Plastic - Lego bricks;
Wood - the one you basically connects the pre-cut joints; and
Metal - the one you screw around and stuff. (even comes with remote control so you can make it move)

By this time, I was pressured to answer questions of "what do you want to be when you grow up?"
Dude, I hate that question. So I said "Engineer" so you can build stuff. I tell you there are only four choices anyway. Doctor, engineer, teacher or policeman.
By the end of my elementary, I was exposed to rock and metal (I used to be mainstream hiphop, don't ask, I like to rap), with some Millennial rebel action movies. So I wanted to fight and become a soldier. Then tried to work out with my pre-pubescent body. Well it didn't worked out well so I said, "screw it, back to engineering"
Well math is hard so screw engineering too. Plus I'm not creative. I tried to pass an oil painting with a theme of sanity, sanitation? - and I worked on it so hard and then I lost. The worst part is the winner who came from our class, cheated. He asked her older sister who happens to be a beautiful artist make his entry. Cheeky bastard. 
By this point I realized something. I believe in a lot of things and soon-after these beliefs slapped me in the forehead with the words "Things doesn't go exactly the way you liked, sweetie." 

Not because you worked hard on something, it's worthy. Not because you sweat blood, it will be appreciated. If it's shit to someone, it's shit. 

So I try to find a different pursuit. Music - where it all began. Acoustic guitar - I studied from a book and I'm okay I guess. Then bass - another false pretense. I suck and can't even read a chord. Then I move on to drums. It became my life. Why? I think I was just born to bang something on something else - like my toe on the corner of the furniture. My agonizing screams of pain during that hard labor of kicking the foot at the side table over my broken pinky toe nails is almost equally the same as hitting that China thrash cymbals.

Then I quit.

Over.

and over.

and over.

and over.

Again.

May 21st, 2017.
May 21st. 2018.
Exactly a year ago I tried to write all of this.

In just over a month,
I'll get married.

The world just stopped as it stared back at me. Knowing myself - will this work out?
As the blinking bar waits for a mere second on what letter I'll type next, I can't help to become frustrated.
I'm about to enter in another chapter that could not be erased. My mind and heart should be prepared about the new levels of anxieties it will face. I could not, no, I should not let these immature uncertainties control my life - but it's also who I am.

I'm still lost.
I'm sorry.



Friday, November 18, 2016

Post-Mortem Anxiety

A week ago, a normal once-in-a-week evening of stress releasing after work, (day off on the following day), me and my girlfriend had dinner on a small Japanese Buffet. We entered famished, escaped satisfied. Gastronomically delighted, we decided to take a little walk to home. December is finally coming. Our place is getting colder as people strapped in with their jackets and scarves. Socially inclined, going out in restaurants, literally. During the summer time, you can't afford to eat outside of the air-conditioned spaces we call a place of retreat. We stopped by to have a nice talk outside this area.

A small carnival style in the middle of the streets
In my case, it is unusually satisfying to watch people walk and socialize or anti-socialize. You name it, seeing them as groups peacefully enjoying the company of each other or someone who drowns at their phone trying to conceal the outburst of their emotion when they see something hilarious in their Facebook feed. Whether it's someone who eats their lunch with a companion up to someone who casually smokes while walking to the cigarette bin. It's all satisfying.

Then in a middle of our conversation, a group of Christian Baptists arrives. From the moment this group of three (one middle-aged man and a middle-aged woman together with a guy in his mid-20's), I knew they are Christians. Raised from a Christian family, you'd differentiate a Christian missionary to a prospector of some kind of Multi-Level Marketing scheme. Almost the same but you'd sense the difference through their smile and handshake. As I look at my girlfriend's eyes, her glare insisted "please talk us out of here". Full of regret, my smile told her otherwise. I wanted to talk to a bunch of strangers and wanted to see them react to the knowledge of my openness as a non-believer of some sort.

So then the fun starts. They begin with the usual - "do you have 5 minutes?", followed by everything similar of first questions on blind dates. Name, work, life status everything that you'd eventually forget from talking to a stranger. I politely broke the clichèd ice-breakers by stating "Are you guys Christians?" and the young guy started opening up how he deliberately converted from Catholic to Muslim to being a Christian. I had asked how he's able to leave Islam. I mean he even told me he was even promoted as Imam.(Imam is an Islamic leadership position. It is most commonly in the context of a worship leader of a mosque and Muslim community by Sunni Muslims.-Wikipedia). He seems focused on the scripts of his statements and as for my perception, he looked like an apprentice of the older man. Trying to see if he's prepared on sharing or "saving souls" alone.

While he is trying to pursue and read me, the lady took the time of having a conversation with my girlfriend; and probably my girlfriend gave one question, one answer routine - I overheard that they ended up with a prayer in a few minutes of conversation.

Then the older man saved the conversation and pointed out the usual. Salvation, God's omnipotence, God's just, kind and loving personality, and God's punishment (the end times).
I don't want to be rude, yet he gave me same objections, same arguments from other Christian speakers as well. So I replied with my perception of God's self-contradictions - pre-destiny and free will; Loving Gift (heaven) and Eternal Torment (hell) and many others. They seemed tedious as the conversation got longer thinking it's pointless to convince. They even repetitively inserting the terms like "we are not trying to convince, persuade or convert in any way" or "we are not talking about religion here" yet they statements prove otherwise. Nonetheless, noticing my girlfriend's sigh - I started to elevate the conversation a little closer on it's ending.

I begin my last statements as the arguments of "Truth being subjective" as the difference in culture, environment, and upbringing affects human nature and the view of what is considered as righteous or abomination in a specific group. I uttered "sir I do understand you and I appreciate your efforts by trying to save my soul. But in the end, I do not believe in Heaven as I do not believe in the concept of afterlife along with its punishments and rewards. I like to live life simply with a golden rule, do good to people. I don't need rewards for that, as the happiness or the help it brings to other people is already rewarding for me.."

Believe me, dear reader, as I could have gone longer but as I suggested in my last words with them is that neither of us would give up on our beliefs, yet I appreciate their efforts to communicate, connect rather, in a random stranger.

As we depart, the young guy told me. "You remind me of my mentor, though he does not absorb all the knowledge. He filters it. He throws away the information he does not need and keeps the necessary one. Like how you filter your Facebook feed of fake news site vs. real news sites",
I would really like to tell him that time that I do. Although, like Facebook feed filters, I need to remember those bad information as well, like those cruel old testament rules in Leviticus.
Still, I don't want the conversation to be longer as it took already 30 mins of our time instead of 5. But I enjoyed speaking with these strangers at that moment. I really wish I have brought my camera that time to take a photo of them and tell their story to the world.

We ended up shaking hands, then I bro-hug both of them. They told me, they will keep on praying for me. If heaven and hell are true, then probably they are worried sick for my soul already in line for hell, and God being omnipotent, he already decided my soul going to hell from the day I was born. So much for his amazing love.

My final words are "hope someday we'll see each other in outreach programs, as I dream of having an organization helping those in need." They smiled and we turned in different directions. My girlfriend sighed in relief and we moved on - Then I suddenly told her, 

"Probably I'm not able to worry when I'm dead already, so why should I waste my whole life worrying about something I'm not even sure of exists for me after I die?"

Who knows. Life is already hard enough to prove your worth. 
Light awaits.. outside our apartment in a sunny day. 

Friday, January 8, 2016

Overlooked Disorder

Constantly looking at my watch, waiting for the exact time before moving and taking action. Reminding myself the recent things I said to someone. Reviewing my words, my actions and other people's reactions towards me. What did I do wrong?


When I was a young boy. Lego was my favorite toy. Building in symmetrical sizes and colors satisfies me. I buy small chocolates for the spare changes my mom gives to me. Chocolates with roughly the size of a quarter, I divide them into fours, plate them nicely and well arrange, and devour them from time to time. Balance and order satisfy me as a young boy in the age of probably 6 or so. I live in the illusion that I might be a builder, engineer or architect. But I wasn't. It was just the early signs of this overlooked disorder of having orders.

At the age of 9 or 10, I was introduced with a game called Command & Conquer: Red Alert. I was never addicted to any game but this one was a personal favorite. The game is simple. You build a base, find a source of money to provide the necessary finance for the army you need to build in order beat down enemies that will do the same. It was a strategy game, the faster you beat an opponent, the better. I was never fast. I take my time. I build the perfect infrastructures in the best locations. I was anxious on how my base would look like, how my defense system was perfectly aligned. That is how I played the game - I made sure that my base was impenetrable.

At this age onwards, I find the need of placing myself on a group. Something that defines me - a talent that could describe me. Singing was off the list. Dancing was shit too - though I tried to but really I can not (I even tried from hip-hop to ballroom). I was never a sports enthusiast, I tried badminton, I tried basketball, tried the marathon, Nothing worked or probably my passion was not enough. I tried playing guitars. Finally, something I can be good at, but never good enough. I played bass guitar also - I don't even remember the basics now. I need something else so I tried to take a seat in a band. I played drums. I was pretty OK in it. I'm obsessed on beating on perfect time. Playing imaginary drumsets keeps me calm and relaxed - so I finally labeled myself as a drummer (a mediocre one).



"Writing" was just new to me. I tried writing songs before but I never finish it. I tried submitting a story when I was young - it was a fantasy as I recall. Involves trees and shit. I tried drawing. I tried comic style but it was very unsatisfying. I can't replicate the images in my mind through my drawings so as usual, I threw it down the drain.

I tried editing. Photoshop and Video Editing. Photoshoots and Video Directing. I can say I love video editing and directing. I like creating stories, short sketches, and plays. I just love adding personal humor and extending my thoughts through this art for everyone to see. Unfortunately, only a few people appreciate it. Maybe it wasn't good enough to captivate other people, huh. Or I'm just really really bad at marketing. 

I tried lots of hobbies, simultaneously. My parents, my close friends even my partner thinks I wanted to try everything. I wanna be a jack-of-all-trades. I wanted to be something everyone can understand, everyone can notice. I thought the same. I thought that I wanted to be able to relate to everyone or just in the process finding myself.

Ever since I can remember, I have a lot of thoughts before going to bed. Some nightmarish stuff that changes as I mature. Usually, it was a boogeyman under my bed or waking up with a fluffy white horrifying ghost lady breathing straight in my face or even insects crawling from my feet up to my orifices. Now, it was what if's. It's never ending. Recalling past situations and the alternate timelines if I changed my statement or decision.

I checked up the clues. Searched the web with the people having the same situation I'm facing. I have it. Before, I'm just kidding that I considered my over-organized mood was a part of my OCD. 



Like other people and myself, we misunderstood and overlooked the situation. It was not just being organized. The constantly arranging things, constantly washing or cleaning my hands, the anxieties before bed and the never-ending what if's every day, the thoughts of locked doors, the mise-en-place cooking rituals and now, I'm smoking. Everything is connected to assurance. I always needed assurance.

People will never understand the person without knowing the definition of their disorder. Until that, we will always be misunderstood as try-hards with bad and unusual habits.

While we find a cure, we find self-help treatment and seek therapy - People already gave up on us and tried to find fault within us. The pain is not the disorder itself. The pain is knowing somehow, we find hope in isolation. We travel alone inside a bubble that most people we thought would understand was standing outside, judging us.



Friday, January 1, 2016

Departures

Death. A normal phase for everything and to everyone. A part of a process called life. The concept of Phoenix rising from the ashes is somehow more than just a fantasy but inspired by well, reality. Whenever a living thing dies, new life emerges.


With enough moisture, any decaying organic matter, a new life arises - mold. I never have seen such a disgusting thing become so elegant in this time lapse video.


When we die, we rot and we give life to other beings. Like how plants or animals become our food to live, we die and become theirs. It's a matter of giving and taking, a balanced harmony amongst all of us.

During the elementary years, we are taught about different hierarchies and us humans being the top of the Food Chain. What makes us advance is probably that we control other species. Other species have clans, have social orders and have their own political agendas we might not be able to fully understand. For we know they might have been secretly "studying" us and waiting for us to be vulnerable enough. After all, we humans are the only creatures in the world who destroy the things we build in the name of God, Gold and fucking Glory which I don't want to understand all I know is, this three G's can be summarized into one and that's probably "Greed".

Death, Life, and God. Three things human nature go nuts for since the beginning of time. We give simple meanings to ordinary things that have complex explanations to some. From common questions like "why is the sky blue" to "where do people go after death?" gives everyone at some point, a scratch in the head gesture.

We go on and define the things we are told to as their definitions, as their true explanations. Growing up and looking around, observing the nature of humans related to me, I realize that there are more than the answer we are told to.
To be less redundant, imagine a situation that our parents told us as the only way to go from our school to our home. Actually, they never said it was the "only" way, but they never gave us other options as well. As we get used to this method we either conform and continue believing in it unless we'll have a situation that finding a detour is a necessity. We then find other forms of transportation, routes or whatever. From this point, we can either return from doing the old one when it's available again or carry on and continue the new discovery. We actually have another option. Find more ways and choose the most suitable.

Most will stay conformed and follow the set of beliefs and standards given to us when we're young. Jumping out of the norm can cause bad reputations such as being a rebel, arrogant or in some cases a nut, crazy cuckoo.

Government and religion control these situations and some people already knew that. They instill fear to people causing us to be much more organized. Well, I kinda agree that people believing in different things can probably cause chaos. Since the beginning, tribes has set standards the clan has to follow. The only problem is some rulers chose the standards beneficial only for themselves and not for it's people.

The government already have their way and of course, religion is the "schemiest" one. What better way to control people is to instill fear, right.

Death, Life, and God.

We live with different definitions on how God would not be disappointed with us, in order not to die in his eternal tormented box called Hell and this is just one definition of a god. There are thousands of similar gods with their reward and punishment system.

What do really happens after we die?
Lot's of things happen after we die. We're just not there to see it. We can't accept the fact that the world would go on without us so we create this biased illusions and definitions to comfort us that when we die, we can still see it. What makes the humans living on earth so special in this large universe that we are the only ones to be capable of being a ghost, resurrected or have the opportunity to have a direct contact with a "creator"





Death is painful when we're the ones left alive. That's all I know so we better take the best out of life, together with the people important to us. 



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Blogs and notes with an awful grammar are my escape on over thinking about opinions, experiences and day dreams that keeps knocking on my brain especially just when I'm about to sleep. I'm probably the "Jack-of-all-trades" guy because I would probably never gonna be the best on what I'm doing.

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