I hate Facebook

I can't sleep. I fell a sleep for an hour then woke up again. It must be the Jetlag. Damn you time difference! 

So what does one do in the dark, under the covers, with a laptop idling beside you just begging to be touched... Well... You surf Facebook, that's what you do. And after an hour of looking at friend updates, bouncing onto interesting articles, watching a few novel video clips... you start reading profiles. Profiles in Full. Family's profiles, friends' profiles, your lover's profile. In full. 

It' always gets to me, reading your profile. I read along and continue to scroll and before I notice it, a significant amount of time has passed, and I've looked 2 years more than I should have. Damn. You are intense, and you say it. Nay, you proclaim it for all the world to see. He must have felt on top of the world (I know the feeling :P). 

And now with all recent strings of inconsistencies and claim extreme insensitivities, what am supposed to think? I saw the photos; my mind plays its tricks. How am I supposed to feel? Do I blindly follow, like a naive, suicide-able, cult followers? Do I rely solely on trust - unsubstantiated, but fully understanding? Maybe. Possibly. I know I do it, but it won't be the easiest barrel to carry.

Instead, I'll do what I do best: I over-think - for the better. I rationalize. I dissect the facts to extract a highly possible outcome that bodes for the better. One where the holes are logically explained and the lapses in judgment have viable, grant ill-felt, intention. This helps me sleep at night.

It really is intensely scary what I've gotten myself into. I try to ignore it. But on lonely, dark, silent, sleepless nights like this - curiosity gets the better of me. Man, I should have learned from the cat! I'll learn eventually. It always means trouble. Then again, I always prefer to know - regardless of the outcome.

To make myself feel better, you know  what I did? I read all the things you wrote or implied about me! :D I read them twice over. It made me smile. It quelled the insecurities a bit. Oh, there you go. I just read them again. :)

Fuck. I need to get over this eventually.  

But there's no turning back now. I'm in too deep, and I would take the pain masochist-style - because I know I need to give this one every single thing that I've got. 

I just wish, eventually, you'll have more sappy, love-dribbling facebook posts about me and adorable, cheese-filled photos with me. :)

The Pangs of LDR

Sunday June 10, 12

6:39pm

It’s mid-afternoon and I still feel hungover. My stomach churns from the destruction alcohol has left in it’s path from last night’s debauchery. Even after having brunch with the bros, 2 cups of coffee, and 3 bottles of isotonic water, I still feel 2 notches below sea level. Sigh. Maybe I’ll take a nap later… it is a Sunday after all.

Last night was fun though – a respite from the complexities of reality. Gays do that well. Escape. We are pros at it.  We have mastered the French exit, the caveman-ing, the closeting, and the extravagant closet exeunt. That was what last night for me: a, largely failed, attempt to escape from baggage I carry with me. Still, the blaring music, the erratic disco lights, the lustful stares makes one feel invincible. Well, maybe not. But at the very least, it makes one feel attractive… wanted… worthy.

I guess that’s what I was looking for – to feel worthy. It just dawned on me today how worthless I was feeling. Work is seriously kicking my ass, and the relationship hasn’t really been smooth sailing as of current… I can’t really do much about the work, but the relationship… is it supposed to be this hard? Perhaps, as things that come easily usually aren’t worth it. Still, the attention from last night was indeed welcome, even if it all was superfluously superficial and from arms length.

Truth be told… This long distance relationship is getting to me – Long Distance being the operative words that are causing rain to fall… The unintentional slips, the circumstantial blips, the rationalized and very valid excused – it’s all getting to me. I knew it would be tough, this long distance business, and I told myself I could handle it. “Piece of cake”, I said.  “Just another walk in the park”. I don’t know if it was arrogance, overestimation, or me trying to convince myself… But it actually is really, really hard.

Truth be told… The distance takes a toll of the both of you. Time together is a luxury, so you do what you can to compensate… You call and email and chat and skype and BBM… but is it enough? Can you really grow together when you’re physically apart? Or am I just kidding myself? Maybe. Call me emotionally high maintenance, but the robotic regurgitations of each other’s days seem mundane and insignificant. The automatic exchanges of “I miss yous” and “I love yous” are just that – automatic – semi-scripted dialog that both have been accustomed to though it may be closer to half than full truth.

Truth be told… I don’t think this not enough. With Long Distance Relationships, you have to work doubly as hard. Unlike in conventional relationships, with LDRs growing apart is an inevitability. And unless, both of you consciously and continuously work against the pangs of emotional segregating, it is sure to happen…

So what do you do… At least what do I do… I try to do two things.

1. I try to create as many moments as possible. Moment when you can both grow together. This is easier done in person. So I try to see him as often as financially and professionally possible. To experience those moments, to be in the presence of each other and crawl under each other’s skin and comfortably nuzzle there for some time… And while not impossible to do remotely, it is extremely hard to create moments when physically apart. But you try anyways. And when moments do happen, it feels magical. You just know.

The problem is sometimes the moments feel contrived – the emotional equivalent of microwave dinners – chock full of imitations of what the real thing should be and ultimately really bad for you. But what do you do? You’re hungry so you take it anyway. You try to convince yourself that, mmmm, it was great and that you’re satisfied. The sad thing is deep down you know the truth… the truth that really you just needed to fill a void and that this is the next best thing. All while ignoring the uncomfortable aftertaste it leaves.

2. I minimize the growing apart, at least on my part. Really, I minimize my growing altogether. Maybe it’s wrong. Maybe I’m going about it all the wrong way. But it all makes sense in my head. I will wait to grow until we are together.  I will wait to experience things. I will wait for him.

The problem is… Well there are a lot of problems with this. I limit my growth – which is pathetic and unhealthy. And I don’t want to impose the stoppage from him because it would be unfair. The thing is, when he does grow… when he experiences life without me, deep down I am jealous. Resentful. Jealous that it not me he his with as he experiences these things and Resentful because he didn’t wait for me.  It’s crazy I know. I’m pretty fucked up. Such a needy little douchebag.

But there in lies the perplexing challenge that is a long distance relationship. If there aren’t enough moments; if they are too few and too far in between, you will grow apart. If one of you doesn’t waits; if either continues to grow, you will grow apart. This doesn’t even include external factors… prior social, familial, and professional responsibilities; erstwhile comparisons to the past; unorthodox fruits of the slither… 

And it feels like it’s all being fought on the thinnest trapeze of battlefield. How does one fight this uphill tightrope battle? One wrong move and you fall off. One miscalculated balance and you falter. How do I stay on? I wasn’t prepared for this. Lord give me faith.   

I will be your witness

I will be your witness.
As we may be dust in this vast universe, I will be proof that you existed.
And you were loved.
AMM

 


I will be your witness.
As the stars aligned and the universe conspired…Our eternity was nothing less than inevitable.
You were more than loved. You were proudly celebrated.
JPIR

Of a childhood with grapes

12:32am on a plane somewhere between Manila and Singapore

Listening to the Eraserheads

9 years was way too long… But hey, better late than never.  After 9 years of stagnant incognito, I finally saw Daniel Gimenez again. God, what a trippy blast from the past.

He and I spent 12 years in the same school. 12 fucking years, growing up with the same set of, oh maybe 60-80 kids, with about 40-50 others coming and going with the transient realities of expat living. 12 years at the International School of Manila – it seriously makes an impression. Dan said something while we were having coffee that really got to me. He said, “You grow up with these kids – kids whose families own the streets you drive on and the city you live in – and you’re made to think that you are all equal. But you’re not. You’re so not. It gives you misplaced expectations of what you can do and who you can be. It really fucks with you head.”

I couldn’t have said it better. It really does fuck with your head. Makes you feel incompetent and unfortunate. You see your peers graduate from college and rule the country with the business, power, and influence afforded to they by their last names – it really makes you feel like shit. Sigh. But then hopefully you get over it. Hopefully you see that the business and power and influence is not the be all and end all of life. That with the tools (and some of them are amazingly great tools), that you acquired from that amazing educational institution that is ISM, you can be great and do good in your own way. This is what I’m slowing trying to accept this fact. And yes, sometimes it does sound like a copout, but hey I’ve seen so many of my rich kid IS contemporaries hit rock bottom as well, swimming in the complexities of drugs, guns, booze, eating disorders and lies that are brought upon by the conyo-problems of having too much money. So really money ain’t everything.

But hey, IS wasn’t all bad. I had my fondest childhood memories inside the gated walls of that Kalayaan Avenue campus. From hiding in the curtains of the Fine Arts Theater as child to acting on it’s stage as an adolescent. First crushes. Identity crisises. Sexual blossomings. I grew up behind those gates, as my classmates yayas and drivers waited patiently outside. IS gave me a great sense of the world. From such a young age I knew that life was larger than the backwards microcosm that was Manila. It taught me to be a man of the world and by nature a man of no country, sowing the seeds of my emotional nomadism. I learned of courage and strength; of failure and disappointment. I learned to pick myself up, lick my wounds and dust myself off. I found friends that stood by me at my worse, most embarrassing, most unimpressive. They helped shape the core of who I would eventually become. They were the best part. And it really is a shame that it took me 9 years to see Daniel again.

Daniel will always be dear to me. A true friend who is willing to tell me how it is. Sometimes moody and brooding, he has a distinct Ryan Atwood charm. He fed me not just grapes during our highschool stint into the theatrics, but also hormonal fodder for the confused little daffy in me that was way too scared to manifest in any shape or form. Crazy notions of youth never to be fulfilled… He is a brother to me, and it’s just nice to know that you never really lose those who hold you dear.

The last time I saw him, we had all just come back from our first year in college. We were all new kids again in much bigger oceans – hanging on to the comforting days of our childhoods in Manila, yet fully knowing that the world was out there just waiting to take us. Some of us have been swallowed up whole by the big bad world. Others have fought back and landed on top. I’d like to think Dan and I fall somewhere in the middle, slightly closer to those who have “landed on top.”

10 years after graduation, here we are. Men in our own right, but still very much lost boys clinging on to neverneverland’s promise of youth. Neither of us are overwhelmingly successful, neither one has really settled down, neither one is in a total rut. 10 years later we are both doing ok, I reckon.

10 years ago, when I walked on stage in my shiny royal blue toga and grabbed my HS diploma, I thought I would rule the world by now. A business mogul in my large corner office on the 96^th floor of my own skyscraper, sitting on my calf skin leather chair with my ridiculously expensive Italian wingtips propped up on my mahogany table the size of a small studio apartment, I would be looking out onto the world waiting to see what grand challenge I would conquer next. I guess very few kids truly live out their dreams to a T. But hey, I have no complaints. I’m pretty happy right now… Happy to have reconnected with an old, great friend. Happy to be with someone I care passionately about. Happy to have a job that challenges me. Happy to have a family I am proud of. The Italian shoes can wait. Skyscrapers are overrated anyways.

Pit Stopping

April 18, 2012
6pm on a Wednesday
In the office. Second Shift starts now.

You know those days where you have a billion things to do… and you fight and you slog and work your ass off. You do the work and you work hard and put in the blood and sweat and tears (dramatic much?). But still the list of things to do doesn’t get shorter, and the amount of work continues to pile up. Sigh. It’s one of those days.

Don’t get me wrong, today’s not a bad day. It’s an ok day. Nothing terrible happened. Actually a few good things happened. J My brand is number 2 in the market – a first EVER! Opportunities are abound, whether I’m ready and equipped to take on the challenges are a different question. But the windows are there and I can smell the beginnings of tomorrow’s sweet fruits from today’s labors.

But fuck man… this shit is tiring. fulfilling and exciting. But damn fucking exhausting. Sigh. They said it wouldn’t be easy. They said it would be hard and they were right. It makes my brain tired.

I do have one very big, very tall consolation though… all 6 feet of him. The thought of him eases so much tension in me. My mind relaxes a bit. Perspective comes into play and the foggy horizon clears up a little. The thought of him calms me. The thought of him makes me less scared.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m still scared. Hahaha. Not so shitlessly anymore, but still pretty terrified. None of it is perfect. It’s still messy, and the grey areas are still there – granted much less so now than 4 months ago. There are some insecurities, inconsistencies and derivations that need to be address from all sides. The future isn’t exactly crystal clear. So I guess the fear is healthy and justified.

Maybe I’m amazed at the way he loves me all the time.

Maybe I’m afraid of the way I really love him.  

Maybe I’m amazed at how he pulled me out of time, hung me on the line.

Maybe I’m afraid of how I really need him

And when I listen to this song and think of him… I smile.

From here to the moon and back. MFEO.

Originality is Appreciated

Mulling over the future after rummaging through the past
March 13, 2012
11:32am


My brother chuck is a photographer. A pretty damn good one, if I may say so myself. A real keen eye; a strong, confident voice; a knack for poetic musing visually expressed with utmost candor and character - a true artist. The other day, as we critiqued the works of others, he said to me, "Nothing is original anymore. Everything you see now is copied from somewhere else, reflective of something else, inspired by someone else... A new take on Hockney, antithesis to Richardson, inspired Van Assche - it seems like true originality is rarely ever achieved anymore.""Such a sad way to look at the world," I thought to myself. While the may be true with the arts, let's hope it is not the case for life.

I've gone through all of it - I've read all the expressions of joy and longing; painfully scrutinized each photo; flipped through each day, month, year... And it truly pains me to realize that chuck seems to be right. As I look around and compare then from now, I see messages that are almost identical, exact words conveniently regurgitated, promises broken and promised again. Over and over again. Repeated without license, most blatantly plagiarized. Over and over again.

How telling...

So here I am urging and asking: Show some class; give it a little originality. Throw in a few choice words of your own. Please stop passing off current ideas as novel, when a simple search online easily reveals the derivative truth. Don't just thoughtlessly recycle old smooth moves and notions.

Instead, do things for the first time without the shadow of the past looming over like Ebenezer's own ghosts. Experience new places, do new things, express new ideas. Don't just repeat the past. Live reborn. Live anew - without the slick calculated moves that are already mastered and seemingly contrived.

Most importantly, make brand new promises; this time, make sure to keep them.

Better late than never....Resolutions for 2012

March 10, 2012 – 4:17pm

Slightly depressed at a Starbucks


I know… I know… It’s March. March 10 to be exact. And it’s a little late to start drafting up New Year’s Resolutions. Apologies oh little blog of mine. But what to do? It’s been an intense first few months for 2012 – intense in a good way. A promising start to the year indeed.



But before we get started on 2012, let’s do the postmortem on 2011 shall we… And why not, 2011 was amazing! Life was full, the job got better and better, and I grew exponentially in multiple directions. Granted, it started out a little dramatic with the ending of my first real adult relationship since college. But it also ended with the promise of beautiful, unexpected, providential new relationship – unplanned but fully welcome, exhilaratingly cerebral and intensely passionate. So now let’s look at everything in between…



New Year’s Resolutions for 2011

- I will kill it at work and show them the great stuff I’m made of
I definitely killed it! Everyone knows it too. I was an awesome market research manager for L’Oreal SG. Truth be told, I miss it a little some times.
- I will not give up on love. I will not be jaded by pain or disappointment. I will continue to adoringly cling on and preach the values of storybook romanticism and hopeful idealism.
All the waiting and hoping and pray seems to have paid off. I found a man who reads. http://opinion.inquirer.net/24361/catch-a-man-who-reads
- I will invest
Fail. Although, I did pay for my loans.
- I will move apartments
Done. Not a great apartment – I mean I wouldn’t out right call it ideal, but at least it’s my own. And really wasn’t that the main goal of moving – gaining the independence, being a “real man”. Chauvinistic excuses, I know. Whatever. I need to move again by beginning July anyways. Que cera cera.
- I will continue to travel and seek/cause awesome debauchery. How about I travel to at least one place I haven’t been to in the last 3 years or haven’t been to at all?
Manila, Kuala Lumpur, Bangkok, Shanghai, Manila, Kuala Lumpur, Nepal, Phuket, Bali, Kuala Lumpur, Manila. It was great! Nepal has got to be the stand out trip. It was amazing! So enriching, bordering on spiritual. Unforgettable.
- I will take more pictures, using my own new purple camera!
Done. Just look at my facebook. :P
- Keep working out, specifically building up my chest… coz I look kinda disproportioned at the moment…
So… I most definitely look better than I did a year ago. Bigger chest, nicer arms. But I still feel slightly self-conscience when I take off my first in front of people, even with the motivation of being a Cleo Bachelor, I still didn’t get hot; I still don’t have that ever elusive six pack… Will I ever get it?
- Oh and fucking get to work on time... WITHOUT taking a damn cab! Shit. Hahaha.
This one’s going back on the list for 2012. Fuck! I’m just soooo not a morning person. More effort next year.



Well there you go…And Now I smile as I give the proverbial (albeit metaphoric) toast to the year that was 2011. Such a colorful and eventful year it was. Granted, I was naughty too. I broke some hearts, and played around more than usual (sexually repression, loneliness, and the search for true love in the wrong places sometimes leads to some wrong decisions). But all in all, looking back at 2011 makes me smile. 2012 has big shoes to fill. But really with Alvin, 2012 will easily trump the last 3 years combined. Big words, I know. But then again, he’s got great promise. The thought of him makes me giggle like a excited Justin Bieber fan.



New Year’s Resolutions for 2012


So let’s see 2012, what do I want from you… To tell you the truth, I’m tempted to just repeat and edit 2011’s Resolutions… Would that be copping out? Would that be too easy? Hmm… Whatever. I’m just not going to stop typing!


- I will not give up on love. I will make this work. I will commit and invest in this. I will love him like he has never been loved before; I show him that I am worthy of his love. I want him to think and feel and know that this is it. I will give this my all and I will never give up. It’s not allowed.
- I will kill it at work. I will learn all I can about being an exceptional marketeer. I will find more marketing mentors that I can learn from.
- I will pay for my loans. Substantially pay for them. Like big chucks! And this excludes what I still have to pay for from 2011!
- I will move apartments. Yes, to one that I can be proud of. One that can comfortably house my eldest bro if he was every in SG for a holiday. (it’s funny how I always consider him the benchmark for acceptance. How telling.)
- I will continue to travel and seek/cause awesome debauchery. I know this is already a given. But I can’t just travel aimlessly and passively. I have to seek out the experiences. I have to plan and find the richness of foreign soils. Europe with mom! Yahoo!
- I will read more. At least 1 book a month. No exceptions. I want to be a man who reads. When a man who reads is in love, he’s in love. He understands the concept of serendipity—and waiting. It takes time and patience to finish a Tolstoy novel.
- I will get a 6 pack. I know, I know. It’s shallow and bimbotic. But I’ve always wanted one. And even if it’s physically possible, I would like to have it at least once in my life.
- I will fucking get to work on time. A failure from last year back on the list. 930am. Just do it. Don't be a bitch about it!



So There you go. 2012’s 8 wishes. Some farfetched, most doable… And even though 19.1% of the year has already gone, I’m still glad these 8 resolutions are set in stone and recorded for posterity. And if the first 19.1% is any indication of what the rest of the 79.9% has in store, then 2012 will be pretty damn kick ass!
 Wish me luck.

Just breathe

Just breathe.

It’s overwhelming. Everything.

It’s a lot. A lot to swallow. A lot to take in.

Just keep walking. One step at a time.

Just keep moving. One foot in front of the other.

Just breathe.

Moments of impromptu literary musings

February 9, 2012

At the office... recieving moments of inspiration...

The setting sun shines on me

Makes me think of you

Life will never be the same

JPIR 

Your hands fit mine perfectly

Our roots intertwined

You will change me forever

AMM

We've got soul...

January 30, 2012
3:31am

This day is marked. The prophecy is fulfilled. I am a changed man; I believe.