Quick Thoughts

I’m here, seated at a corner of a coffee shop, watching the world go by and mulling things over inside this little head of mine. It’s interesting to look at all these people in their straight suits go in and out the doors, sharing trite and brief good mornings as they go past each other. All of them rushing to get somewhere, keeping their schedules tight. All of them prancing about to the tune of clickety-clacking heels, blaring horns and brewing coffee. And I honestly think it’s a little crazy that people spend each day in such a manic state.

I’m here, with a pen and paper in hand, writing whatnots and hopelessly wishing that the girl at the table in front would at least try and chew her food. Is that how expensive time got? That none of us can even enjoy and actually taste our meals? Every waking minute seems to be dedicated to killing ourselves early so we could get colorful pieces of printed paper in return. And it scares the hell out of me.  But in a world where success is measured by the amount of stress you can bear, you really can’t do anything about it. You just got to try and keep up and pray that you don’t lose your mind before you’re 40.

Seriously, pray.

Scars are Beautiful

And there I was, staring at the ceiling in the middle of the day, counting the minutes as they pass by. Every second stretched on for miles and I found myself drowning in my own, self-orchestrated eternity. This kind of thing usually happens in the middle of the night when you’re up and thinking about somebody but it hit me way earlier than it should. It hit me while the sun was at its highest and people were supposed to do nothing but complain about the heat and the sweat dripping off their face and back. But not me. I laid there, on my bed, motionless, almost breathless but with my thoughts running a million miles per second and my heart pumping way more than it should.

I laid so still that my emotions swallowed me whole. I didn’t fight, I didn’t resist. I let the pain strike me where it wanted to. I let the past constrict me with its grip-like vice. But it wasn’t a sign of surrender nor was it a sign of giving up. It was more like I wanted to feel everything instead of keeping it suppressed. It was like wanting to drown so I’ll be forced to swim. It’s like wanting to remember the pain so I’ll know never to go back to the way I was. 

A song kept playing in my head—“Oh, you’re a silly girl…” and I am a silly girl. Silly but not foolish. Have I not made it this far in life? All the tears and and pain and unfortunate twists of life that I was never sure if they were meant to be bad jokes or just simply ugly phases you have to go through, embraced and molded me. The more I think about it, the more I found it beautiful. How a silly little girl can slowly turn into a woman of flaming self-respect all because of those sleepless nights crying over things that broke her, those times that she had to pick herself up everyday just to show everybody she’ll be okay, all those tireless days that she was let down repeatedly despite of her efforts to hold things together. It’s those things that will slowly forge strength in your heart.

Men collect their scars physically as a sign of manhood. Women, on the other hand, collect scars emotionally. They are oh so fragile that words and phrases delivered in haste would leave bleeding wounds unseen by many. I’ve had lots of wounds, I even had a part of my heart taken out of me but I stitched it up. Everything can be mended through time so just let the days pass by. You’ll be surprised that at some point, that dark corner where your soul has been would feel like a hundred years away and would only sound like a terrible part of an old fairy tale you once read.

And when the memories come knocking one day, like what happened to me today, I suggest you let it in. Immerse yourself in its arms but don’t dwell in it. Let that visit remind you of how far you’ve come and how much you’ve changed for the better. Let it rekindle the amazing journey you’ve had to be the woman you are today. Let it show you the petals and thorns you’ve earned by blooming into an exquisite rose. Embrace your scars and let them make you beautiful. 

Can I…? Would you?

Type. Backspace. Type. Backspace. Type. Backspace. Type.

Always caught in between writing it down and keeping it to the farthest corners of myself.

Can I ask you to listen? And if I do ask you, would you? I feel like I’ve wasted and gained so much time. I feel like I’ve constantly done nothing and everything each passing day. I feel like the greatest ironies and contradictions of life have run me down. It’s like standing at a crossroad feeling depressed and thankful at the same time. Does everybody my age feel this way? Maybe they do. Maybe they don’t. Maybe I’m alone in this. Maybe I’m not.

Can I ask you to see things my way? And if I do, would you? I see millions of possibilities conspiring into one moment. It scares me and it fascinates me. Imagine hitting an imaginary brick wall. The brick wall symbolizes that you’ve achieved something and is now ready to move forward but instead of smiling, you just stand there asking yourself, now what? It’s not that you don’t know where to go, you do. It’s not that you don’t know how to get there, you do. It’s just that you’re scared of what comes next.

Can I ask you to take me away? And if I do ask you, would you? We can talk about anything, do anything, be anything. We can take a bus or just drive. We can joke about life as if we’re not in it. We can act as if time is on our side. People say to live a life that you don’t constantly want to run away from. But is there such a life? I think people invented vacations, getaways and holidays because none of us were meant to stay in one place doing one thing for too long. We’ve got the means so why not go somewhere we’ve never been and make memories that’ll fill our hearts?

Can I ask you to pursue happiness with me? And if I do ask you, would you? I haven’t smiled today. I haven’t laughed. I haven’t felt anything. It’s like there’s this tremendous distance between me and everything real. I feel like I’m floating, searching for something to grab on to so I can pull myself down and start to feel something again. I want to laugh the way I did for the past days. But I just feel like a bottle that’s just been sealed. I feel like I’ve been given an ultimatum until further notice and everything I planned just vanished in front of me. 

Can I keep on asking? And if I do, would you keep on answering? I feel like crying but that’s nothing new. I feel like punching something but I don’t want to break anything. I feel like I’m going to be staring at the brick wall in front of me for a long while and I hate waiting for realizations to hit me in the head. I feel like everything stopped despite seeing everything still moving and the earth still rotating on its axis. I wonder what happens when someone, like me, just stops. Does the God of Time look down on me and ask “What the hell’s the matter with this girl?” Or does he say “Good thinking dear one. Sometimes stopping opens up the right way.”

Cheers!

It took me 22 years to realize that there are only two types of people in the world—those who keep the world happy and those who keep the world going. 

Those who keep the world happy are the ones who have the talent and passion to create. They’re writers, painters, musicians, movie makers—all are slaves to inspiration and all are artists in their own right. They keep the world happy in what way? By coming up with piece after piece of creativity that may not be necessary for living but is food for the soul. They keep the unseen part of humanity fed and fulfilled. 

Those who keep the world going are the ones who have the skills to keep civilization on its feet. They’re politicians, doctors, nurses, teachers, engineers—all are slaves to knowledge and all are professionals in their respective fields. They keep the world going in what way? By maintaining everything that humanity established as important—technology, industry, health, government. They reinforce human needs to its finest. 

Most people end up doing what they were meant to do and find themselves happy doing it. Some encounter resistance and find themselves stuck in the middle of life’s highway. Guess I’m part of the latter. I know that I should be one of those people working to keep the world going but my hands are focused on creating and my heart is just head over heels with writing. 

I can be good at any job if I wanted to just so people wouldn’t say that I’m wasting “my brains” into something so simple as writing. But when I get compliments from other people about how I should already be writing a book or receiving an award for something I wrote, I just feel like going against the flow and pursuing writing like a reckless youth in pursuit of happiness at whatever cost. But I guess I’m not as brave as I’d like to be.

So let me raise a glass up for all the things your heart dictates but your mind deem impossible, for all the passion you put into making the world see something new instead of just keeping it going, for all my fellow literary souls out there who sleeps with a pen in their hand every single night trying to make other people see how beautiful words are—salut!

The Fault In Our Stars

Though I will never read the book and though I may not watch the movie, I’d just like to say, based on the popularity of this novel that indeed, people love tragedy.

It’s somewhat ironic that all of us look for happiness but what people don’t realize is that we don’t just look for happiness plain and simple. We are all looking for a certain shade of joy and that is the happiness, no matter how brief, that we get out of a tragedy. 

People love good things but they love tragedy more. Why? Because the sorrow, the pain, the depression that comes with tragedy makes us feel more alive. So yes, all of us are emotional masochists in one way or another. 

Though none of us will say it out loud and though none of us may even realize it, but we yearn for pain. Or specifically, we yearn for the brief happiness that comes with the pain.

Confused? Trust me, I am a bit confused myself. But you can’t deny that I’m somewhat making sense.

Based on the photos of the movie that I saw, the girl wears a nasal cannula all the time which would tell anybody that her lungs are not working properly. And out of all the lung diseases out there, my guess would be cancer. Either it’s been lung cancer from the start or it began as a different type of cancer and later, just spread to her lungs. (No, I’m not a doctor. Yes, I’m a nurse.)

The guy seems well and healthy but then I saw this one photo of them sort of being in a group. My thought was it couldn’t be a school organization because if you already need support for breathing then any sort of school activity will definitely exhaust you. Which then lead me to my second assumption that it was a cancer support group. So if the guy was there, it’s either he just happened to be there (some sort of accident or twist of fate) or he’s also a cancer patient that was just on remission that’s why he looked well.

Based on those two assumptions, the ending is pretty much predictable. I have two endings in mind. First, if the guy just happened to bump into the girl at a cancer support group then that means that the girl dies in the end. Second, if the guy is a cancer patient in remission, then I bet that for some reason his cancer will go back and he’ll die first. I thought of the second one because if you’re the author, you would want to take the world by surprise. All along you’ve lead them to think that it was the girl who was really sick but then you find a way to make the plot more dramatic by throwing a curveball and that curveball is the guy dying first. 

Either way, the plot is simply this: they fall for each other, have an amazing love story and then their love meets a tragic end by way of death. (Please, correct me if I’m wrong.) I’m not belittling the essence of the story. All I’m saying is that this is exactly what I’m talking about. People love tragedy.

Everybody knows that someone will die in the end. That is the tragedy. But people don’t buy books and go to movie theaters yearning for tragedy. What they yearn for is that moment of bliss, that brief happiness that will transpire from the moment the characters meet up to the time the characters last saw each other. The tearjerker moments, the kiss, the exchange of sweet nothings, the effort that goes into loving someone beyond all odds, that is what people are after.

So indeed, people love tragedy. Or should I say, people love the happiness that goes with tragedy. 

P.S.
Last assumption, I’m guessing that “the FAULT in our stars” is that destiny brought two people together just to end it abruptly by one of them leaving so soon. But then as people say, even in death, love is never over.

I’m Not Original

The question here is, are you original? Or are any of us ENTIRELY ORIGINAL? Is everything you say and do PERFECTLY YOUR OWN? No outside influence whatsoever? I think not. 

You can only be original in one or more aspects of your life but NOT the whole. Usually, this/these aspect(s) of your life is/are the talent(s) you were born with. The things you can do with your eyes closed. The things that you don’t have to think about because they just simply come to you. For me, that is writing.  

How about the other aspects or should I say areas, that you want to explore but are not innate to you. That, my friend, is where you need some help. That is where you need other people to influence you, to inspire you, to teach you until such time that you’re good enough to come up with something you can call your own.

Let me use some of the aspects I’ve explored as an example.

Fashion
Me along with a lot of people are not original with the way we dress. Admit it, please. We look through magazines, we watch television, we stalk our fashion icons (may they be actors/actresses, rock stars, supermodels, etc.), we browse the internet for the next look that we think we can pull off. We need their influence for us to figure out how we can come up with a dress code that will fully express who we are. 

Photography
Me and other budding photographers out there are not entirely original with our works. Why? Because we don’t know the craft yet. What we do is ask for advice, for techniques, for guidance from those who are experts in the field. We imitate shots so we’ll know how their done. We poke our noses in someone else’s camera settings so we’ll know how to tweak our cameras to our advantage. After everything’s learned, that’s when we come up with a portfolio that’s entirely our own. 

Art
Me and other frustrated artists out there are not original with what we put on paper. Because those who doesn’t have the natural inclination to art would really find it hard to find a comfortable spot to create original works. If we love art but art is not innate to us, what we’ll do is borrow ideas from artists. We’ll use what we see then add what we think we know about art and come up with something that’s half ours and half theirs. 

You see, borrowing ideas doesn’t mean you’re automatically a copycat. Let me translate it in literature. If you replicate someone’s work exactly as it is, that’s plagiarism. But if you borrow the idea and put it in your own words, that’s paraphrasing. Just because you were influenced by someone else’s concept doesn’t mean that you’re a good for nothing person. It simply means that you’re human. And if you’re wise enough to tweak and express that concept from your own perspective then although you may not be entirely original, at least we know for sure that you’re creative. 

For my part, what sucks really is whenever I try out something new, most of the people I know would applaud me for a good result. But the people who actually matter to me will always find holes. I studied a new technique in photography and when I finally pulled off a good shot, what I would hear is “That’s it?? Even ordinary people can take that shot.” Or when I started painting, I would hear “You just did that because you saw it somewhere. You’re not original.” Well, hell yeah, I saw it somewhere. I got eyes, damn it. But the fact that I put my heart and soul into it and pulled it off requires just a little bit of recognition, don’t you think?

Sometimes, when we venture out into something new, all we need is encouragement and the assurance that even if we fall flat on our asses for trying, someone’s got our back. 

Remember that even if we can never be entirely original, we can always be different. We just have to add a part of ourselves in everything we do so as to leave a different mark in this immense fabric that we call life. 

Let me close by quoting Chuck Palahniuk, “Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everyone I’ve ever known.”

A Letter to Destiny

Dear Destiny, 

Or maybe, you’re really called fate or the crazy wheel of life or the literature that fortune tellers seem to always read from my palm or with a deck of cards. I may not know what your name is but I have to thank you, BIG TIME.

I have to thank you for the big big smiles on my face for the past few weeks. For the happiness that now mends my heart. Not everything has fallen into place yet, but you know, in life, it never will be a finished puzzle. For as long as you live, the pieces will continually move, sometimes for the better, other times for the worse. And that is something I always remind myself of. 

Nothing and nobody is perfect. I guess that’s the beauty of life. You’ll make mistakes and have shortcomings. And sometimes, sorry will never be enough. But you have to understand the fact that if you can inflict pain on someone, you can also help in easing it. If you can stab someone in the heart with your actions then you can also help in mending the wound. Nothing can be reversed once done, but everything can be made better. 

Destiny (if that is your name), thank you for the love that I have now. After being trapped in hurt and pain for so long, you made me see that tears do run dry. After writing piece after piece about my heart breaking, you’ve given me inspiration in the oddest of ways to make me write about the good things I’m missing out on. After all the nights that I woke up with nothing but depression at heart, you made me believe that sweet dreams isn’t just for going to sleep but also for living it each day.

Thank you for the changes that all turned out for the better. Thank you for the new found confidence. There were times when I thought I wasn’t good enough. There were instances that I pitied myself for my weaknesses. But now I know that my limitations do not and will never define me. I am more than my weaknesses, I am more than the boundaries people have set on me.

Thank you for the painful experiences. I may have cried most of the time because of it but it pushed me to find myself. I may still have issues bearing down on my shoulders because of what I’ve been through but I’ll never lose hope for better days. I’ll work on myself, I’ll work on being a better me despite the weight of my past and the sight of a limitless future. 

Thank you for everything. I may still not be whole yet and frankly, I don’t think I’ll ever go back to being who I once was. But I think that’s okay. Because, as I’ve read somewhere before, the mind, once stretched by an idea, emotion or experience, never goes back to its original dimensions. I’m proud of who I am now. After all, I worked hard for this tough attitude of mine. And I’m not going to give it up just to fall back in the same place I struggled to get out of.

Thank you for the love. Thank you for the happiness. Thank you for the change.

Sincerely,
Beauesprit

 

P.S.
People say that we make our own destinies but I think I’d be a hypocrite if I won’t admit that there are forces at work in this world that are bigger than us. People call it different names but I’m not going to elaborate on that. I just want to give credit where credit is due. Because although I’m the one who made the decisions that lead me to where I am now, the way things turned out isn’t dependent on my actions alone. Each of our lives is but a ripple in a big pond, the extent to which our ripple flow and interact with others is something that we don’t entirely hold in our hands. 

The Lost Wanderer

This is me voicing out.

Half the time my blog is a shelf where I keep literary pieces of mine that surprisingly are a good read, the other half, it’s a junkyard of thoughts and feelings my lips dare not say.

Have you ever felt so lost? It’s like you feel that you’re meant for something big but sadly, you don’t know what it is. At least not yet.

That’s where I stand right now. I’m watching everybody live their lives while putting mine on hold.

I’ve always been the strong one. I’m the type who looks out for everybody. I look out for my friends, I make sure I’m always there for them. I look out for my boyfriend, I make sure he has everything he needs. I look out for my brothers, I make sure they don’t end up lost like me. I look out for my parents, I make sure that I don’t disappoint them as much as I could.

But you know, I’m human too. And there are times when my weaknesses get the best of me and it leaves me wondering if there’s anyone, anyone at all, who actually looks out for me.

When you’re strong-willed, people fall into a connotation that you’re invincible. That nothing could break you or even put you down. That’s why during your moments of weakness, they just say “You’re strong. You’ll figure it out.” As if you no longer have the right to fall down on your knees and have someone pull you up. Sometimes, all you need to hear is “You’re not alone. Everything’s going to be okay.”

It’s the solitary notion that comes with being strong that breaks my heart. It’s their belief that you could get everything sorted out on your own that makes ever being strong a bad thing. You’re broken and no one’s there. And it sucks so bad because all you really need is someone to hold your hand while you fix yourself.

I’m 22. I’ve cried a lot. I’ve laughed a lot. I got trust issues because of the scars of my past. I got insecurity issues because of society’s standards. I got life issues because I’m lost. People tell me I’m smart, but as I’ve been thinking lately, if I were really smart, I’d know what I want by now.

My heart’s pulling me into one direction and my mind pushes me on another. I gave up the road to my passion years ago for what I thought would be better for me. But now my heart screams out, begging to be heard. It’s true that you really can’t ignore what you feel in your bones as the thing you’re meant to do because you’ll never be really happy at a job or a position, if your heart’s not in it.

It’s depressing, really. But what can I do? I’m already in the middle of this life contortion. Sometimes, I ask myself if others from my generation are feeling the same way. But then I browse through Facebook and half of them are loving their jobs while the other half are loving their husbands/wives and kids. So yeah, I guess I’m one of the rare ones.

I’m stuck in a puddle of mud, yes. I don’t know what I want, yes. But when I finally figure out what to do, I’m going to come out stronger than ever. And I can finally say that indeed, it is better late than never.

And since I’m already knee deep in suicidal thoughts (totally kidding), I think I need to get out of the house. I’m planning on going to a museum tomorrow to clear my head, hopefully it does the trick. I desperately need to get back on my toes.

Jobless

It’s such a sorry state for most people and yet I found out that a lot of good things can emanate from such a state. I’m not trying to rationalize anything, I’m just saying that it’s not the worst thing that can happen to someone. And that in some ways, it can be the best.

I am one of those jobless people. Why? Because I don’t know what I want yet. You think I should at least have some sort of temporary job while I’m looking for the one that I love, right? Don’t worry, a lot of people told me that already.

I’m lucky in a way that I have patient parents who are willing to give me time to figure things out. And I’m privileged not to be in a situation where I “need” money. I don’t want to be part of the working population just because I need money badly. I don’t want money to be the focal point of my career. I just want to want money, not need it. I want to have a job that I love because of the fulfillment it gives, not because of the monetary value it brings.

There are people who sees me as a failure right now. But I don’t see myself that way. I’m not a failure. I’m young and I’m willing to make mistakes in order to learn. I want to make the most of the one thing you can never earn which is time. I want to spend it on the things I love to do before this world urges me to spend it on the things I HAVE to do.

I wouldn’t love the things that I love now if I have a job. I wouldn’t have known about my two favorite authors right now if I have a job. The day I came to know Agatha Christie was the day my mom and I went book hunting and she saw one of Agatha Christie’s books lying on a table outside a bookstore because it’s on sale. She told me Agatha was one of the greatest authors of all time so I got the book and the rest is history. The day I came to know about Chuck Palahniuk was the day I was with my boyfriend and we passed by this street vendor selling re-priced books. He pointed out Damned and Tell All and told me it was written by the same author of Fight Club. So we got those two titles and I loved Chuck ever since. Both days wouldn’t have gone that way if I was at work on a job I’m not even sure I want.

Lame excuse for not having a job? Maybe for you but not for me. You see, I value memories. And those little things make the best memories out of everything. I don’t want to be one of those people who’ll lie on their death bed and regret all the little things they didn’t do that could have made them happy instead of rich. I don’t want to be one of them and I’m not going to be one of them. I want to have the littlest amount of regret when people finally bury me 6 feet under or throw me into the fiery pit to be cremated.

It’s the privilege of youth. You have time. You have energy. You have freedom. You can turn your back on all the harsh truths of this world and no one would give a damn. You can fail as many times as you want and still smile at the end of the day. You can fool around, laugh out loud, act like a total idiot and credit it all to the YOLO bin. So really, that’s all I’m trying to do. I’m trying to make as much memories as I can before a job becomes my life. Before everything I do in a day becomes convertible to cash. I want to read amazing books and enrich my mind. I want to write amazing pieces and share what I know. I want to take amazing photographs and show it to the world. I want to do amazing things outside the professional world simply because I’m capable of doing it. I want to feel happiness in its purest and silliest form before it becomes optional. To those who found their dream jobs right after college, good for you. To those who think that “having a job” is the peak of living, go ahead and keep on thinking that. To those who define success by the amount of money someone’s earning, good luck on that.

Do what you can in the time that you have. But don’t get stuck. You would have to move on and you would need to know that. Me? My working days are ahead of me and they’re coming in fast. I know that now more than ever but when they come, I won’t be half-hearted. I would be waiting with my arms wide open. I would not be scared because I know I’m fulfilled as a person and that I can find happiness despite the crazy schedule and all the harsh yet inevitable things that a job entails. I won’t lose myself despite the demands of my chosen profession. I won’t because I know better than to make a job and a specified amount of money rule my life.

Hey Chuck, I forgot to say thanks!

I started this blog two Saturdays ago during my Statistics class but school work got in the way and I wasn’t able to finish even half of it. 

However, I want to talk briefly about my favorite author, Chuck Palahniuk. (Agatha Christie used to be my top 1 but then there came Chuck.) He’s a brilliant man, no doubt. But what stirs my curiosity about him is not the brilliance of his works but the reason behind that brilliance. Pure talent? Sure, he has that but it’s not the sole reason. I told myself, “There’s got to be something more”.

This is when I started to read several biographies of him. And found out exactly what my mind was leading me to and what my hunches have been telling me all along—a tragic back story. That’s the reason. He’s the product of the worst forms of both life and reality. His grandfather (paternal side) shot himself after shooting his grandmother. His parents got separated when he was fourteen. His father was killed by a jealous ex of a woman he was dating. It all seemed unreal, fabricated in a way but when I look at his works, the dark beauty of his pieces justifies the story of his life and vice versa. That back story, that burden of experiences handed over to him along with so much pain are the reason behind his brilliance. He’s writing from his own life.

I applaud the dark shadows and disturbing narrations that linger over his works, the harsh and direct statement of facts most often ignored by society, the smart play of comedy in presenting what needs to be known, the intensive research that goes behind the foundation of each novel. It’s just…amazing. I have to admit that I’m completely hooked and that meeting him is now part of my bucket list. 

Having read 5 of his books so far (looking forward to reading everything he wrote by the end of the year), I’ve confirmed thoughts of mine that I’ve dismissed previously in my mind. They are somewhat contradictions that came to me as realizations that I used to shrug off because I thought I was the only one thinking about it. But then came Chuck and as he said “There was nothing we could imagine that a million people weren’t already doing”.

First is the fact that a lot of people say that all our fate/destiny/whatever-you-wanna-call-it are pre-written, preconceived long before we were born. That nothing we do wasn’t thought out by our creator first. In that case, what are we? Puppets? A form of entertainment for the scriptwriter who already knows the story but for his mere amusement, wants characters to act it out. And if our lives have already been written beforehand, what’s this thing that people are calling as free will? If you have free will, then you have choices. And choices yield unexpected results. Deciding on something creates a million ripples in this world that makes it almost impossible to predict the result and extent of that decision. If even our choices are premeditated, if all our decisions have already been made, if our life story has already been thought out, if even our mistakes has already been etched then obviously, way before we were even born, where we go to, either heaven or hell has already been decided. And that would be unfair. However, if we go to the free will side, then how we live our lives decides where we go in our afterlives, heaven or hell (whether or not such places exist). And that is much more like it. So you see, I really don’t think that pre-written destiny and free will could co-exist in the same fabric of reality. It should just be either one—either you’re a puppet dramatizing a story or you’re a being responsible for your own story. And personally, I prefer the latter choice. I really don’t like the idea of being a puppet.

Second is a principle that was introduced in Rant (a novel written by Chuck), it goes something like “a lie isn’t a lie when a fair number of people believe it”. Mind you, that’s true. When a lot of people believe in something, even if it’s a lie, it becomes the truth, it becomes the norm. Now when someone speaks of the truth, he/she appears to be the one lying because what he/she is saying goes against the belief of a million other people. Now you see how the tables have turned. And turned quite unfavorably for the right side. If you’re familiar with Plato’s Allegory of the Cave, then you’re perfectly aware of what I’m talking about in terms of how truth-telling goes. I think people are naturally inclined to prefer illusions, the silver lining instead of the dark clouds, the petals of the rose instead of the thorns. And this inclination is what drives people to lie. To make everything seem and sound alright even when it is not. Everybody lies, that’s a fact and that’s what Dr. House always said (if ever you watched the series). Life, you see, gives you a million reasons to lie and just one reason to tell the truth. That’s why getting at the truth or even truth itself is never simple. One can believe a lie so much that it becomes his/her reality and that much belief can blind a person to everything else that moves on this green patch of earth. Don’t let that happen. Keep your mind open. Don’t be one of the fools blindly walking in this world. 

Third is love and did you know that people chooses to love the damaged ones the most? You see, we’re not looking for perfection in another person nor are we looking for someone to fit our so called “standards”. It’s just a hypocritical bullshit that people like to say. I want this and that in my ideal man/woman blah blah blah. Perfection is something that we appreciate but not fall in love with. What we really look for in someone is the same amount of weirdness and quirkiness that we have in ourselves. Someone whose humor is the same as ours. And I said damaged ones because really, we never look for what’s right in a person. What we look for is what’s wrong with them. Their mistakes, shortcomings, foolishness and even how they lie. Once we know what’s wrong with a person then we see if what’s wrong with them is a perfect fit for what’s wrong with us. Oftentimes, the best couples are not the ones with the same everything “same job, same talents, same principles”, no. The best couples are those who are different and opposite in almost everyway and yet what’s wrong with the first half is supplemented by the second half and vice versa. The mistakes done by these kind of couples don’t collide and crash with each other, they glide and fuse and form something beautiful. What makes a person unique are the things that are wrong with that person. That’s why we fall in love not with the right, sane parts of a person but with the wrong, mad parts of someone. Just like how the saying goes, “We are all searching for someone whose demons play well with ours”. 

With that, I end my blog. I can’t believe it took me two weeks to write this. But then again, I’m glad I finished it.