Train Comes

I have just finished watching all the episodes of Daria and I'm now ready to rejoin the outside world with all its tawdry trappings. Strangely, my recent brush with depression coincided with my acquisition of the whole TV series. Either watching it is what led me down the deep end, or it's download finished just in time to stave off a nervous breakdown. Whatever. All I learned is that having low self-esteem is a mistake. Oh, and that they make the eye of the needle so damn tiny to piss the camel off.

I am cool and that is it, and everyone else is full of, full of, full of...

( Don't bother clicking. I mean it. )
Keep away, I'm bad news.

A repost from Pjammer's page. Here's the original entry.

---

The following snippet of overheard conversation was recently posted in a journal I frequent:

- There has been so much sadness in my life. So much hardship. So much anger.
- You've survived it.
- Oh yes, I've survived it, sure. But it's too late to be happy now. I'm eighty-one.
- There's always time to start being happy.
- No. I saw a movie recently, about a woman who couldn't laugh. Couldn't smile. That's me. I see happy things, I can't smile.
- You have to try, Ma.
- Too late. He took all that away from me. Self-centered bastard. Never a thought for what I might be going through.
- That's in the past. Bury it. You're free now.
- Free, ha! I'm so tired. My head hurts all the time.
- You're free of him here, now start acting like it. If you choose to suffer from the memories, he still controls you. You're still letting him control you.
- What else can I do? My head hurts all the time. The pills don't work. I couldn't sleep last night, now I'm going to be tired all day.
- You can do plenty. You're taking English classes.
- Huh.
- And doing quite well if I recall. Top of your class, a regular teacher's aide.
- It's always too long. Two hours, I can't even get up to get a drink of water.
- You're learning something new. The world is opening up to you.
- My head hurts all the time. That self-centered bastard. He never did a thing for me. Never a thing.

The post sparked an interesting discussion in the comments section. What is the difference between those who have the resilience to bounce back from life's disappointments and injuries, versus those who spend months … years … suspended in grief or bitterness, sulking over the sins of others?

It's an important question – especially to those who feel haunted by their pasts, imprisoned by memories of thoughtless and hurtful people. To be sure, there are those who (consciously or otherwise) are in love with their own dark histories and choose to wrap so much of their identity around their injuries and scars that they are effectively inseparable.

But for the rest of us who have a genuine interest in decoupling from the demons that may haunt us, what does it takes to break free from an unhappy past? To move on from the betrayals, deceptions and disappointments which visit themselves upon us?

Avatar Therapy

One of the most effective mental tricks I've employed in combating my own demons and occasional spells of depression is to treat my life as if it were an open-ended adventure simulation game; every morning, I imagine that I am assigned this character (me), who has [X] in the bank account, a job at [Y], and [Z] people as friends, enemies and acquaintances. Here is your list of skills and these are your attribute scores in Strength, Dexterity, Charisma, Intelligence, and Wisdom.

Now go forth, and explore in this world.

Should you walk up and talk to that pretty girl who's been looking at you in at coffee shop? An old friend called you this morning and invited you to a party this evening – do you accept? Oooh, that ice cream looks mighty tasty - should you splurge and go for a scoop? Ok, fine - now how about we take a nice hour-long run to burn it all off?

Employing this perspective is liberating; since it divorces my decision-making process from whatever residual grudges, baggage or emotional barnacles may be attached to specific people and situations, it focuses my attention on what is good for my 'character,' and thus, ultimately, what is good for ME and those I choose to befriend.

I've trained myself to disallow bitterness and brooding emotions much purchase in my mind; while I may feel sadness or grief from some immediate disappointment, taking a step back and viewing my life as if it was avatar of a simulation-adventure is a powerful bit of psychological legerdemain to put them into perspective. If you are lied to, swindled, or assaulted by a computer-controlled character in a game, how much sulking and anger is appropriate to sustain over that incident?

Seeing yourself as an avatar of an adventure game also helps in dealing with difficulties and challenges. After all, gamers know that no matter how 'impossible' any given puzzle may appear, there always IS an solution (however convoluted and counterintuitive). While it is true that in the real world there are situations that are genuinely unwinnable, the attitude of believing there is always a workaround to every impasse, the faith that there exists an answer to every impossibility is the fuel that lends ordinary people the power to accomplish superhuman things.

And who of us couldn't use a bit more superhuman mojo in our lives?

I'm depressed. I've had a rough couple of weeks. But this video that legally_bald posted catapulted me right out of Bluesville. Seriously, I can't thank Poma enough for sharing this. The whole thing has me hooked, from the Jem and the Holograms song to the obviously-rehearsed choreography. Watching this made me realize that a world that can contain art like this can't be so bad. Never underestimate the power of dance.

I woke up with my left eye shut tight. Allergic conjunctivitis attacked it again. Went to the bathroom to wash the gunk off, revealing an angry redness staring back at me. It's so Kakashi. I also noticed the botched-up job from the barbershop. Again, very Kakashi. A whole clan entered the barbershop while my barber was doing my hair, and decided to hurry it up to accommodate the other customers. He didn’t even give the scalp massage that I liked so much. So much for value-added service.

So I used my prescription eyedrops went on downstairs. Mama has already left for the gym. There’s a note on the whiteboard. “Happy birthday! We love you!” That’s nice. So far, three people have greeted me in advance, one greeted me at the strike of 12, and one greeted me right before he slept. Checked my mobile: a couple of missed calls from the same person and four text messages. Three of them greeting me, the other asking me when I’ll be sending my lecture handouts. Had my breakfast. Hotdog sandwiches with a boatload of shredded cheese. I liked it. I gobbled three quickly. Papa was busy working on the PC. Should I come over and kiss him on the cheek? That usually comes after they greet me. So I didn’t.

I called the office to ask about my pay. It’s delayed again. I wanted to play the birthday card, but thought it was useless. I suppose if I had been nicer to them, they would’ve been more accommodating, but it’s too late for that now. I guess I’m not going out tonight. After all, I have a pinkeye that needs nursing.

I suddenly remembered attending the birthday party of my cousin, where she wore a tutu. She was a toddler then. Our uncles and aunts were pressuring her to sing in front of everyone. She got so scared with all those stares and jeering that she lost bladder control, a yellow stain crawling down her pink stockings. Embarrassed, she buried her face in her mother’s tummy, crying. I felt so sorry for her.

I went upstairs, ready to work on my end-of-semester reports, when out of nowhere, I cried. I suppose that was a good thing; it helped wash out the allergens in my eye. I’m 25 now. I have responsibilities. Celebrating my birthday in a belated manner is inevitable. There are more important things. I have to get moving.

Someday, somehow, I'll make a difference. If only I can overcome envy.

Now what?

It feels like lead weights strapped on my limbs, on my back, hung from my neck, sewn on my belly. It strips the youth from my face, pulling the ends of my lips, drooping my eyelids, tensing up my forehead. My jaw is lax, but my teeth clench. I sigh.

Whenever that happens, I will let you know. Whenever that happens, know that I need you, right there, right then.

And it's happening now.

Is there anyone who knows anyone who, like a lotus risen from the mud with a pristine bloom, has emerged unsoiled from their sordid past?



Is there really such a thing as a clean slate?

The strike of ten at night is Pavlovian to me. It's not so much as the time per se, more on the awareness of the time. When I look at my watch and see that it's 9:55 PM, I know what's coming. In case a gulp of water isn't readily available, I drool more in preparation for an aidless pill-swallowing. It's a small tablet anyway, and my salivary amylase acting on its starch binder lends a faint sweetness to it. Sometimes, when my spit is viscous or if I haven't produced much, I feel the pill crawling slowly in my throat, disintegrating in its path leaving a trail of grainy residue. Sometimes, I can actually feel the whole tablet stuck there, its roundness asserting itself with every swallow. A few more rounds of drool bolus may offer respite, but total relief only comes with a full glass. Preferably of water. Drool is hard to collect, except at 10:00 PM. Rather, when I see it's 10:00 PM.

But now that I'm off the stuff for now, my Pavlovian reaction to time has changed from a medication vehicle to an automatic mouth rinse. I've found ways to harness this. In moments when a slick oral cavity is in order (ahem), I just think of a watch at 9:55 PM, and I ooze. It's extremely useful, especially when taking in a massive mouthful of...polvoron. Or penis. Whatever dude.

I am reminded of this Queer as Folk line:
Brian was coaxing Gus, a baby, to quiet down on a pacifier. "Think nipple. Think cock. Whatever gets you there."

We're all excited about Mariah Carey's E=MC² and her hot new video. But do you know about her single Ken Lee? Here's an audition clip by a Bulgarian Idol hopeful.

Because "straight-tripper" is the new pink.

It is a sad thing that the one thing you've held out for all this time, the prize you've been eyeing from the very start, the one goal that you've hungered for and laid bricks for and spent your energy to, is met with disapproval by the one person for whom you're doing all these.

It hurts to know that that person does not believe in you.

The past holiday season was probably my worst ever. A week before Christmas, I got sick. I had to crap every 5 minutes or so, and at the same time, it hurt so bad to swallow water, let alone food. That lasted until Christmas, so I wasn't able to feast on all the noche buena goodies. Consequently, I lost 10 pounds. I lost 10 pounds in less than two weeks. God I'm so payat now. Up to now I have yet to regain my appetite. So I get even more payat. And I've gotten weak too. I'm not used to attending Body Jam or Retro class in the gym without my usual energy. Damn. I knew I shouldn't have had the sushi in our office Christmas party. There was something suspicious in the kani.

Anyway, here's a human tetris performance by a Swiss dude named Guillaume Reymond. He also made stop-motion videos of other games like Pole Position, Space Invaders and Pong. I feel like I'm so slender, I can fit in the Tetris puzzle like the long straight piece (the ones in red shirts).


Here's to a svelte 2008!

Have you ever wanted to learn how to do the hustle? Do you want to dress up like Travolta in your Christmas parties and be able to play the part? Here's a step-by-step guide!

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to work on my Rolling Grapevine.

I'm scared to teach. It feels like such an immense responsibility. I feel inadequate to the task. Guys, how do you do it?

It's a sad feeling to realize that you're not worth the trouble. It's even sadder to realize that you made yourself that way.

On my LJ welcome page, I saw that four of my LJ friends are celebrating their respective birthdays on consecutive days. On the 5th, 6th, 7th and 8th. Naaliw lang ako.

Wanna make you mine, better get in line! 5,6,7,8!

1. No work, no pay. A sick leave means a significant chunk of your salary sublimates. Every minute that you're late chips off bite-size pieces of your meager daily wage, which motivates you to exercise before your shift by running towards the bundy clock with the minute hand tipping over to 12.

2. The salary. You were much richer when you were still a student. Back then, your allowance allows you to try out the newest restaurants and chillax in coffee shops. Nowadays, you know exactly what's for lunch. Isa't kalahating kanin, isang karneng ulam, isang gulay na ulam, isang tumpok ng maja blanca at isang basong juice. Manang, pahingi naman ng extra soup. And your coffee of course is instant.

3. The awkward transition period from being a newly graduated, freshly licensed professional to being a bumbling fledgling in the world of employment. You acquire all these knowledge in college which have sown passion in your heart for your chosen profession. You hurdle the board licensure exam, belonging to the upper crust among your peers thus upholding the alma mater's so-called tradition of excellence. Confident of your accomplishments so far, you march on towards the nearest Human Resources office, brandishing your brand new license card and resume with your school in bold letters. You get hired right away. You work the next day.

Not a month has passed and your license is already in trouble of getting revoked. The mistake you committed has all eyes darting at you, yeah, that's the new guy who did it. Wait a minute, this isn't what's taught in school. In fact, only 10% of what you learned in school is being done here. You're mad, embarrassed, scared. Mad at the leering people. Embarrassed at the slip-up that you made. Scared for your career. What will become of you next?

4. The cheesy soul-searching. All these humbling experiences, are you being pummeled to the ground? Or are you being hammered and tempered like steel? Are you really as good as you think you are? Are you on the right track? You ruminate these while playing with the corn bits in your maja blanca. Hey, it's yummy.