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. 

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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?

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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.

(c)neilbogart

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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. 

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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.

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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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Love and Labels

In retail/department stores, there are different classifications, sub-departments and between those departments, there are different variations of materials, style and colors. During the inventory, it helps the stock controllers adjust the discrepancies or the problems within the stock.

Now that was the retailer’s perspective, but usually, we have the consumer’s perspective.Everyone is a consumer, but not everyone can be literally a retailer.

In our everyday lives, departments and divisions help to filter the things we need to look for. Take for example the grocery store, imagine if every item is arranged alphabetically, it would be a total chaos. The reason they have specific sections for Dairies, Sweets, Toiletries, Frozen food keeps our lives easier by a minute.

By this time, you might think and say these are all common sense – usually, we unconsciously forget the simple things until it was reminded to us. Tricks look so simple after magicians revealed the technique – but left us either dumbfounded or amazed during the performance.

This short blog is about humanity’s dependence about labels and how it affects relationships or how we view relationships (either with a partner or with a group). Labels are society’s one way of accepting or rejecting an idea. Labels keep our lives easier but at some point, the labelled people are having a hard time.

Topics for labelled people or labelled groups are so wide that separate sub-topics are already covered for sure in a plethora of websites, blogs and articles.

Variations can be religion, culture, race, gender and other topics.

All are very sensitive issues and probably everyone has their own opinions based on conspiracies or maybe based on facts.

Labels does not only helps us to recognize, choose and reject the things we think are necessary, materialistically speaking, but like said before, socially as well. In a small community, sub-groups can be highly noticed depending on the label.

Let’s say the work environment is a small community. Race is definitely a form of “label”. Working outside the country in a multi-cultured environment can be challenging – most especially if it was the first time. You meet people with a different culture, with a different language and with a different religion maybe, outside your comfort zone. It is going to be a full adjustment on your side. The first thing you’ll look after are the people in the same race. Why? Finding people in the same race can filter the closest culture, language and religion. Same race = same other sub-labels in a community, mostly.

With labels, finding a group or a category we can be a part of makes it a hell lot easier. Though with every pros, comes cons.

The dominant people in these groups can take advantage of those who are lost and trying to find somewhere they belong. Songs like “Somewhere I belong” by Linkin Park and “Creep” by Radiohead – defines how us humans are struggling to find groups and how we fear for being ostracized (banished from societies). Just imagine how the third sex struggles for acceptance in a conservative, religious country. Same as the request for labels between being boyfriend, girlfriend into husband and wife and the best example maybe is the battle for position in terms of hierarchy of labels in a company (manager, directors, assistant, etc.)

According to the book of a psychologist named David Raney, “As a primate, you are keen to social cues that portend your possible ostracism from an in-group. In the wild, banishment equals death. So it follows that YOU WORK TO FEEL INCLUDED because the feeling of being left out, being the last to know, being the only one not invited to the party, is a deep and severe wound to your emotional core.” – Let’s face it, even the most introverted person needed a group somehow. Well a conference of introverts is hard to imagine, but I can see different people in hoodies holding a phone, wearing earphones sitting in dividers clapping alone in their personal space bubble. Kind of weird and funny but I can consider myself as an occasional introvert – Ambivert maybe if it is the official term for that?

Anyways, the reason why people fall in love faster in an environment which they left out or alone for the first time is very much often.

Now in that same environment you are not so much familiar, you tend to be afraid of losing someone that possibly treats you not well enough just for the fear of being left out and alone again.

The solution can be well of in the mind as well, either we tend to get used to the person/group and wait to have a better treatment from that particular person/group, or find a better person/group.     As of July 2015, there are 7.3 billion people in the world – though more options means more confusion, choices are necessary to know what we really desire and how to have it.

Labels might be infuriating and a mess but labels are necessary that will always separate us from others but for now, we can depend on it as a human nature’s way of organizing things. 

Jesus! Even this post needs labels.

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Predestiny (shorts)

Little Johnny was raised in an orphanage run by priests and nuns. As a boy, he was always curious. There was a time when he's about four years of age. He was escorted by a priest, walking cheerfully towards the clinic.

Johnny said "vitamins?".

The priest smiled and nodded, "for what, my boy?".

Johnny scratched his eyebrows "to make me a strong boy!".

"Yes, little Johnny. Someday you are not going to be little anymore and you will need all the strength you can have while you're young. Physically and spiritually of course. Go in first, son"


Little Johnny went straight to the seat he climbed on to. As Johnny looked up to the young nurse, he smiled and showed something his well-known of in the orphanage, gapped front teeth. As usual, nurse Emily was amused.

The nurse took her flavored popsicle stick. "Say Ahh, little Johnny. Are you alright now?"

Little Johnny spoke while his mouth was being inspected, blurbing the words "Yes, I am. I just sneezed a little bit Ms Emily."


The nurse smiled and gave little Johnny the weekly booster and vitamins for extra protection against the flu. She really appreciates little Johnny's politeness and the Priest couldn't agree less. Johnny smiled and said to nurse Emily "Can I?" while holding already the stethoscope. He tried it on and start talking to the diaphragm.

While little Johnny was distracted, nurse Emily was amused. She looked back at the Priest and said, "Father, I'm sure he's going to be a good doctor!".

Father Enriquez smiled, while rubbing the boy's hair saying "God have good plans for this boy and for all of us, Emily.".

"I'm sure He does!" said gracefully by Emily.

....

Looking back at the past, listening to the conversation of Father Enriquez and nurse Emily. I asked myself, this plan is cruel.

Wondering to pull this trigger, as the burst of the bullet through this brain. This will be my last thought.

Like any other orphans, they said God has perfect plans, especially for us. Little Maddie, my best friend was sheltered by a family of pedophiles. She died when she was 10 - raped almost every day for more than a year. Her body could not take any more lacerations and abuse from this cruel predestination. Justice afterlife? The dad, the brother and the supporting mother were never found. The new case arrives, old cases are set aside. Long forgotten. Why can't little fucking Maddie have the justice before and after life? What lessons will be fucking remembered, and understood when the learner is dead. There's no fucking moral in the story when it comes to tragedy.

I guess from the moment they "bought" us and promise us the best life we could ever have, only a few "I know" lived up to the expectations.

Now I'm ending mine. I'm ending this path.This is my end part of His plans for me. Right before from the start, does He knew that my path leads to what believers called "Hell" or in other terms - eternal torment because you had the free fucking will, God, already decided a long time ago? Is heaven composed of selfish and pompous people happy that they are there and others they know are in hell? Or does Heaven is a place to justify conformity by literally removing the conscience of people. "Because hey, we're in heaven, we felt good, we did our part in saving your souls! Your suffering does not affect me even if we spend almost a lifetime together. I told you to follow 'His Plans' not your plans. Forget about the times I said 'you always have the choice' because come on! Religion is all about intimidation and some of the Pascal's Wager."

I'm pathetic, smiling with a gun shoved into my throat. Having a Fight Clubesque kind of a scene.

The main question was, why are we given these beliefs. To have a better sanity when things don't go our way- a simple explanation our mind can easily understand?

We are pawns. Set of choices was given to us, but like a fucking maze with one beginning and one ending. We are given some set of directions or maybe not. We get lost in the way, but no matter what we do - we need to find that one exit.

If I did a mistake?
"God has better plans for you, just wait and see."

So should I blame Him?
"Blaming would only make things worse, let's move on and hope for the better."

If the next mistake caused death, is it part of the plan?
"The enemy which is evil causes these things."

Wait. I thought we shouldn't blame. So He allowed it? Because someone might learn something from there, is that it?
Let me get this straight. When things go wrong = enemy/God, because God allows it for us to learn from it, and this "enemy" does bad things so he gets credit also. When things are running smoothly = God, because that was His plan all along that we can't figure out. Why? Because we can't fucking predict the future.

A moment of silence to my pretentious alter-ego.

This uniform belief leads to controlled chaos because everyone had their own definitions. Everyone has their own sets of normality and morality. If a child learned that fending off black people was fucking right, bombing and killing them is gonna be his view of the right thing. He can be proud that his God made this plan for me, and he complied. He can celebrate. It's a sick world out here. Different leaders trying to take devotees as much as they can to build a society that will support their "normality". I can't live like this.

I'll find you, Little Maddie. If everything is destined, God already chose who will be saved and who will rot. This is the path I chose.

I am tired of Earth, these people. I'm tired of being caught in the tangle of their lives. Who makes the world? Perhaps the world is not made. Perhaps nothing is made. Perhaps it simply is, has been, will always be there. A clock without a craftsman.They claim their labors are to build a heaven, yet their heaven is populated with horrors. Perhaps the world is not made. Perhaps nothing is made. A clock without a craftsman. It's too late. Always has been, always will be...too late.  - Dr. Manhattan (Watchmen, 2009)

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Quitting a bad habit

In our lifetime, we might be able to know or befriend with somebody who happens to be either a drinker, a smoker, a stoner or all of the above. If you don't know one, congratulations! You are the one.

Everyone justifies their habit on why it is better than other vices. An alcoholic would say, better to drink than smoke, a smoker would say better smoke cigarettes than weeds, and a stoner would say.. depending on the type. A try hard would say, "smoke.weed.forevs" or "420 blaze it". A casual would say, "nobody died from weeds man. It's all conspiracy. It's safer than tobacco. It's an alternative medicine!". The best answers are the high ones. They won't care and just offer you a joint or a hit.

We have the nature to defend our habits and characteristics. We feel threatened when someone questions the things we do. Most reactions are "Only God can judge me" bullshit. Yeah, that's what criminals say to after they done a crime. To make them feel better on what they did. (Side note: In federal prisons, the United States, only 0.07% are Atheists. Most are Christians. Either they are already religious when they commit a crime or converting is their escape goat from judgement) Some acknowledge the bad effects, but most would compare it to a worse vice and then find small things that prove theirs are safe. Most lines were "I know someone who did what I'm doing until her 70's, and look at her! Still alive and well" - Bitch, she's 40 that looked like 70 from smoking too much. Or like my sample earlier "Better this than that which is much worse!"

I don't drink often, I tried smoking only a few times and I wanted to be a chill stoner but don't have the accessibility for the stuff. I thought I'm saved from these vices. From these addictions. The problem is, what we do we thought normal was on addicting scale already. We just can't see and accept it because it became part of our daily regime.

In a book I'm reading, You are now less dumb, I first encountered the term "Sunk Cost Fallacy". According to their site - You are not so smart (link), I quote:

The Misconception: You make rational decisions based on the future value of objects, investments and experiences.
The Truth: Your decisions are tainted by the emotional investments you accumulate, and the more you invest in something the harder it becomes to abandon it. "

In the chapter and in this article, one of the best example they had been Farmville. When it was famous back then, 84 million accounts/people had tried to play it. It was not because it was really fun, no. It was because of the time you need to spend and wait just for the virtual outcome which is the harvest, it's really hard to let go. Now, I noticed this also to the latest players of Clash of Clans. A social mini-game that devours your time. Because you need to watch over and protect your virtual civilization. The more you spend your time with it, the more you feel bad quitting. "I've spent so much, why would I stop now?". That's why you can't understand a friend of yours staying with his/her partner despite the toxicity level of their relationship. You ask them - "How could you stay this far this guy/girl?" That's the problem, they stayed that far. It's no longer the relationship their holding on to, but with their memories and the invested time, effort and money.

To cut the explanation short, sunk costs fallacy and addiction have a huge connection with investments and dependency. You have the urge to shop and shop. You hoard, yet you don't really wear it to often. You see a "SALE" sign, and suddenly you had the needs to buy a this and that. You felt that short rush of "happiness" having an item on discount. But do you really feel happy? Or you just need to feel happy because you know that you saved something. You felt that if you won't take this "limited" offer, you'd loss something big. When in fact, not buying on the first place will make you save more.

A lot of addictions starts young. Like shopping, we had distracted our productivity and prioritized addiction through games, television, pornography, gossips, gambling, selfies, social media and so on. Sounds harmless at first, but too little or too much of everything is obviously not good.

There are groups of each addiction and these simple bad habits in a community. The most overlooked  addiction is the social media. Yes it's powerful in some way, especially connecting distant relationships, relatives or friends. Finding people and exposing frauds. A very powerful material indeed. Of course, with great power comes great irresponsibility - as Deadpool might suggest. Social media especially Facebook can be a home of every addiction I mentioned in this post. Shopping? Yes. Media, countless hours of watching stupidity. Check. Pornography? Lot's of ass twerking, caught in the act or just pages posting softcore. Good. Games or Gambling? 2008-2009 was one of those first years. Selfies and other forms of Narcissism? You will drown! Drugs? Please.

A great tool will always be used in an opposite direction. That's how sick and resourceful a human mind is. That's why I decided to quit Facebook a week ago. I'm getting withdrawals like a normal addict going in rehabilitation centres. I swear I had dreams a few times that I was opening my notifications. I haven't deactivated it yet, because of the photos and the people I need to talk to that depends on fb messenger. I made a public announcement that they can contact me directly to my email. It's really hard to quit. Especially for someone who have a good amount of attention through comments and likes. I just got tired feeling great every time someone liked my post. It feels so wrong, as if my life and esteem depends on it.

The easiest way to conquer withdrawals is having an attention to something else. In my case, reading and watching additional knowledge I know I can use someday, playing with creativity, analysing ordinary things and most importantly planning something to write, or just writing anything. Withdrawals happen when you force stop something you are used to without having another outlet. Not having another outlet means you don't really want to stop, because these withdrawals will be your excuse to go back to a bad habit you used to. Being addicted to anything is really depressing, but I know when there's a will, there's a way. When there's no will, excuses are everywhere.

Now, only one guy friend emails me every now and then. We talked in simple topics and it felt like the old times, pen and paper; or just like the first decade of the internet when emails are mainly used. We forward chain messages or attach a post card and shit like that. It's really funny. Having conversations through email made it more special, made it more unique again.

People take for granted the convenience of everything. Cutting off convenience sparks creativity, social skills and resourcefulness. Giving at least a small amount of effort to those who wants to reach you makes it more important. I'm a bit disappointed that only one person emailed me, and he's a friend through the social media. The ones who I befriended in real life, didn't tried contacting me. Disappointingly satisfying. At least for once in a while, you'd really miss a friend and you get to know more someone else in a way.

Well, hope this journey will do well with me and also for the people trying to quit their 'seemingly normal' bad habit. There's a first for everything, and endings leads to new beginnings. Stay productive, use your time wisely and find real happiness!

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My Inspiration as a Common Man

Looking back at my old posts, I can see myself with not much of progress at all. Maybe a bit facial hair was added but still the same. Probably throwing back every month doesn’t really make me miss my old self, but there are really good memories when we recall our past and younger lives. Wow, somehow it felt like I don’t deserve to think like that. After all I’m just 21, there are very little ‘looking back at the things I’ve done’ kind of recollection compared to veterans. Meh.

Well honestly, I’m looking back to my old blog posts recently. It doesn’t make sense. It’s like somebody forced a thought to be written that will be connected with the gifs he saw on photobucket for added animation on the literature. Well that’s what most of my 2009-2011 blogs was like. 2012 was hiatus for shitty reasons. Then 2013 came. I went to United States, so I tried to pretend that I can speak ‘American’ for a while. I got better in expressing myself through English language but I cannot really speak very fast unless I’m comfortable on who I’m speaking with. Ever since, I wrote down ideas; clump all of the ones I wanted to write, and voila! – A slightly developed me, talking to myself (with the intention of other people hearing/reading it) through blogging. Sometimes I force people to make me feel less useless, but sometimes I’d prefer someone that would criticize or proof read it (srsly, no h8 pls).

As I said on my past blogs, blogs was one of my outlets or like a diary in other terms. Being an only child has pros and cons – unfortunately, having a dull and lonely life makes me want to speak out more to express myself. I don’t mind people telling me or talking behind my back saying “this idiot thinks he knows everything” – Nope, that’s why I ask a lot of things. “He talks too much for a guy” – whoa. Sexist. Ever heard of standup comedy? And tons of side comments that doesn’t qualify as a constructive criticism. See mom, that’s a big word(s). “Constructive Criticism”. I feel smarter than yesterday already.

Currently, I seek to find new ways to improve my writing. I wanted to study multimedia arts for multiple reasons also. To learn more about writing and to study my other hobbies – directing and editing videos. I find my poor passion performance or being a mediocre at everything I try, very frustrating. Luckily, I have few people that I can share my thoughts; Different people, different views and different hobbies.

Thanks to some of the books and authors I follow, I realized that I’m not alone in the frustrations of finding passion. Being distracted and demotivated sometimes is good for us. Having multiple interests are also a benefit, especially when bored. I remember Austin Kleon mentioned, author of the best-selling book “Steal like an Artist”, that the best ideas comes up when we’re doing something that doesn’t need effort. When he needs an idea, he just wash dishes, do laundry or some other chores. It was also very productive. I never realized that before, but I did remember that tunes or beat comes up to my mind when I’m doing an effortless job. Most of the times, my realization and my usual 2am thoughts pops up while I’m on work. That’s why I’m always writing down my ideas at my phone, or in a sticky note.

Most of the topics I posted since 2014 was made up usually when I’m going to work using metro. It’s a 30 minute ride. One time, I had an hour long flight between the cities in the Philippines (Manila to Legazpi). Since I can’t sleep for that short period of waiting, I took my phone and tickled my boredom. I made an entire heroic universe. The story was inspired from the characters in a cartoon. It was about old and retired heroes. I’m still working on it though. I don’t have an ending yet.

We might not be the best yet on what we’re doing, but I guess we should never give up on finding that passion. I can’t really advice anything great right now, especially that I don’t have the title yet to promote ideas and motivations – but hey it’s a start. One day, I see myself as a motivator. I may have not the most depressing story, or the poorest background or even a high societal position that can be used as a credit for advising and motivating, I know I can and I will. Because my background is like most of us. It’s normal, it’s usual and it’s very common. I’m a common person, with a common life, with a common mind and a common history. You and I have a lot of common things to share about. Let’s both start upgrading our ‘commoners’ status little by little. Pursue passion, set a goal, work on it. 

One of Robin Sharma's book (The Leader Who Had no Title) on the title itself says that you don't need position nor title to become great on what you are doing, or give great service and advice. 

We might be mediocre, untalented, boring or very normal, but don't let that stop us. Let's continue poking are very own curiosity rover, have some time in a day that we'll just think about lots of things, talk to people that has a different interest than yours, read or just look through pictures. We can find lot's of things outside, but we'll find tons in our minds. We'll keep dream the results, plan the process, and wake up to start early as we can. Together we'll dream as a common person and soon will wake up better than ourselves from yesterday. 

Like Shia Labeouf said - “Some people dream success, while you’re gonna wake up and work hard on it.”

[CLAPPING INTENSIFIES]

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