Rethink your life

Written: July 13, 2012 8:36 AM

Maybe it happened to you at one point in your life:
when you almost died in a car crash because of reckless driving -- either on your part or the one killed you,
when you saw your mother lying on the hospital bed losing all the life which you used to see every single day of her life,
when you got kicked out from high school because you failed math,
when your boyfriend broke up with you just because there’s someone "better" than you,
when your father became a drunkard after your mother’s death,
or when you became the provider of the family -- losing yourself in the process...

When something inside you doesn’t feel right, you pause for a moment and rethink your life.

You know how it feels to be empty.

You know how it feels to be walking on the road not knowing where to go, hoping not to bump into someone you know because you don’t want to talk, because there’s just nothing to say.

You know how it feels to be given space when company is what you needed the most, when your life is crashing right in front of your face and still nobody chose to be there.

You know how it feels to breakdown when breaking down is the only thing left to do.

You know how it feels to be weak, to lose yourself, to be on the verge of giving up this life which used to be fun and happy. 

You know how hard it is to stop thinking of things you don’t want to think about because everything and everyone around you just seems to remind you of those exact same things.

As hard to believe as it may be, but whatever you are going through right now, you’ll get through it. 

Don’t know what to do given a second life? 
Given only a few more months to live?
Parents died and you are left alone?
There’s just too much to do in so little time?
Boyfriend broke up with you?
Lost your job and can’t provide for the family?
Lost? Gender crisis? Midlife crisis?

Give it time and everything will fix itself even without your help. Accept whatever is happening wholeheartedly. Do not resist because the resistance will only cause you stress, and will eventually make you ugly (inside and out.)

Moving on doesn’t mean you leave it all behind. Moving on means learning from the past, carrying on with life, and keeping the faith alive. 

How many more sunsets do I have to watch alone?

I decided to stop writing here because more often than not, what I write is very depressing and that’s not a very good thing to share with the world. But I can’t NOT write. That I stopped posting on this blog doesn’t mean I stopped writing. I still write when thoughts come in mind. I still write, habitually, when I’m feeling sad and lonely, and mad at the world, or at someone. I am taking back what I wrote in my other blog:

"Yes, enough of the depressing posts. No more drama this time. Life is wonderful!"

I guess I need the drama to balance my joie de vivre. That's what makes life wonderful! I can’t live ignoring my need for putting into words my random, often dramatic, thoughts. I don’t want to end up having too many .doc files on My Documents, most of which are unfinished writings, unpolished thoughts of the moment. I just figured they should go someplace beyond my personal computer (which, by the way, crashes on me every now and then because of unsafe sites, if you know what I mean.) So rather than risking losing them all, might as well post them as is, if I can’t think of anything more to add.

I’m letting you into my mind. You have already done so much by reading this. Somehow, you made me feel that I am not alone in watching the sunset. Somewhere in this big big world, there is someone who could also see the beauty I am seeing.

And so… I am coming back to the home I built for myself. And you know what the good thing about coming home is? It’s not worrying about whether you are still welcome or not. Because despite the long absence, it’s as if you never left at all. Still feels like home! Oh, belonging and less loneliness!

What happens when you don't have a plan

So I am here in our room, alone. I can't stand the mess. I want to clean up but I don't know where to start or how to. The room is full already -- with refrigerator, two double decks, a folding mattress lying on the floor, a closet, one more closet and still one more closet, a long table, a drafting table, and a small table, a platform and too many things under the beds. I want to start from zero -- without these things. I want them out first.

So that's what happens when you  don't plan ahead, when you just put things inside without knowing how to arrange things in place -- a messy, hard-to-clean-up room.

Same thing goes with relationships. If you get into it without planning ahead, it's like getting yourself in a quicksand -- once you get inside, you sink slowly and it's hard to get yourself out. 

Because there wasn't any plan in the first place, you just start to put things into the relationship -- surprises, dates, gifts, more surprises and then more surprises. Then it starts to build up. Like a messy room, there's just too much inside. Yet you keep putting in things, thinking it would save the relationship. You 'd put in more dates, to facilitate good communication. More gifts, to show your appreciation. And a lot more surprises, to keep things alive and... well, surprising!

So you think you're saving the relationship that way? You might as well think again.

The more of those "things" you put into, the more you suffocate your relationship. Until it can't take anymore. And it blasts!

Then one day, you find yourself standing there thinking of cleaning it all up, doing it all over again. But it's impossible to take the things out -- the same things you yourself put in.

So that's what happens when you  don't plan ahead, when you just put things inside without knowing how to arrange things in place -- the realization that you could have better.

Try "other things" -- those that doesn't take up too much space in a room, like thinking.


Same goes with a planning a city. Look what we have here:

1. We bow down to these devastating disasters - fire, earthquake, typhoon.

Picture from http://filipinolifeinpictures.wordpress.com/2008/07/23/manila-fire-and-the-aftermath/

2. We spend a lot of time on the road, we get stuck in traffic.

Picture from http://www.justanotherpixel.net/2010/06/we-need-car.html

3. And this skyline.

Picture from http://egagah.blogspot.com/2011/05/welcome-to-other-side-of-philippines.html

Someday, I will do something to arrange things in this city. Someday, I will have a plan for this city. I know I can't just take things out and I can't start from zero. That's the challenge I'm willing to accept.

But for now, I'll settle for this small space -- our messy, hard-to-clean-up room.

Kaput

I remember the afternoon of March 31st, 2002. I just graduated from gradeschool, as the class salutatorian.

I was sitting at our back door, staring blankly on the wall that separates our house from the street. I was alone, or perhaps I just don't remember there was anyone in the house at that time. I don't know where they are. We just came home from my graduation.

There were not much congratulatory greetings from anyone, no food, no celebration for what I thought was a special occassion. I just finished elementary school with flying colors, second in class. Maybe that wasn't good enough. So there was really nothing to celebrate for, or to be proud of. I was just second.

And here I am, 9 years after, winning first prize in a national essay writing contest. I kept it to myself and a few close friends for a while, for I needed time to absorb the good news. And how big a thing it was for me! Two weeks later, I brought my certificate and trophy to my sister. "May ipapauwi ako" was my discreet way of saying "Hey, I just won first prize in an essay writing contest!" But there was nothing except, "What's the Rizal trophy for?" Back home, I received no reaction, up until now.

Like my gradeschool achievement, it passed unnoticed, unacknowledged, unappreciated.

So I realized no achievement or award could give me that. Not that I'm yearning for acknowledgement or appreciation, I'm just saying...

Drifting Away

When you don't have a goal, it's so easy to drift away. Drift away. Drift away. Drift-aaa- waaaaaay...

Bridges and values

"I don't like to burn bridges." I often hear it. That's what they always say. "Don't burn bridges," my friends would tell me, which sounds quite... demanding? All right, all right.

But how about sincerity, honesty, truth, fidelity, loyalty and kindness? Are they no longer as valuable as friendships? The human values that are supposedly instilled deep into our veins, where are they now? Aren't we supposed to do, not just what we like to do, but what is right and good and virtuous? Is it enough to "not burn bridges" when you know you're doing something wrong? Even if you're not the one doing it? Do you think you are justified just because your hands are clean?

I should admit, that a lot of times, I fall into the trap of that kind of pleasure. That kind of pleasure which somehow eases the loneliness within you, that which you do just because it's something you can do at the time. But after a while, you are still the same old you, just worse. Because you were too weak to fall into that kind of trap.

I want to understand what is with these bridges. I believe they don't burn easily. They must not burn easily. I believe they should be strong enough that no matter how hard it is hit, it would hold steadfastly. And the bridges that you are not afraid to burn because you believe they are strong enough not to collapse, are the only ones you should keep. The bridges that burn, are the ones that are weak and unworthy of keeping.

I have burned some bridges. Those with cracks are really hard to save -- they'll fall no matter how hard you try to conceal the cracks.

Bridges, sometimes they amaze me.

Bored holes

The days still feel empty. You wake up every morning feeling that void in your heart you can never replace, however hard you try. These are the days when you find it hard to get out of bed simply because you find no reason to do so.

But it has not been long enough. Time, like they always say, heals all wounds. And I am hoping that in time, that void will be filled with something else. It doesn't matter what that something may be so long as there's no more void in it.

Just a little trash can

Just a little trash can is what I need because I seldom throw things, even a bubble gum wrapper or a restaurant receipt. I find it hard to throw things, exactly because I find value in everything. I mean, they might seem unimportant right now but if you keep it long enough, for, say, five years at least, you'll see the value in it when you look back. They say anything that is old has value in it. And I think there's truth in that. Take, for example, antique furniture and bonsai plants. They really are valuable, at least for some people. Most importantly, our wise old men. Some things just get better with age. And oh, red wine and old friends!

Even if a thing is broken or can no longer be used, they don't go straight to the trash. I keep them in a box, especially if they were given to me, or is a reminder of a special part in my life. Even if it's just a piece of broken, useless, paper clips. I keeps things -- letters, notebook pages, notes on post-its, dried flowers, chocolate wrappers, gift wrappers and it would take forever to enumerate the things in my boxes. And by things, I mean a lot of things, if not everything.

The idea of throwing things and carrying on with life without them -- them which were once part of your life -- just seems too scary for me. Aside from feeling incomplete, it makes me feel guilty to just let them go. I have this feeling that I should take responsibility for the things I get a hold of. Like when I borrow a pen from a classmate, I take the responsibility to use it properly, and care for it just like how its owner would. I cannot, ever in the world, lose it if it's not mine. That would be UNacceptable!

I am given the power to fix broken things -- mind power, that is. Or the will to keep on fixing and fixing and fixing. I'll fix whatever. I can even go on fixing it forever. Just don't make me throw it! It won't be easy for me.

I mean, how is it even possible for people to just throw things like that? I don't get that. Am I the only one with attachment issues here? Or who values sentimentality? It does not even have to be those kind of corny things. How about the 3Rs -- Reuse, Reduce, Recycle? Or the value for money. Or resourcefulness. Or having things to remind you of your past when you're old, sitting on your rocking chair looking at the window?

It makes me sad to have to throw things. But being sad is okay at times. Life, after all, has to be balanced. How can you feel happy when you don't know how it feels to be sad? You can't keep things forever. Sometimes you have to pass it on. Throwing them doesn't mean they'll be gone in this world forever. They'd just be somewhere else, owned by someone else. Everyone needs just a little trash can.

NOTE TO SELF

Before dinner at Quezon City Memorial Circle

LEARN TO GO WITH THE FLOW

“Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don’t resist them – that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like.” - Lao-Tzu

“Smile, breathe and go slowly.” - Thich Nhat Hanh

“Flow with whatever is happening and let your mind be free. Stay centered by accepting whatever you are doing. This is the ultimate.” - Chuang Tzu

The Catcher in the Rye

It was an easy read. Just like someone’s telling you things. Like having a conversation with someone but you’re just listening to him talk. I like him, I must say, the author. At first, I was bored with his style but after a while I kind of enjoyed it. See, I think I am actually imitating his style right now. I like him. He made me laugh most of the time. And made me cry a little twice. Did I tell you I like him?

I am far from busy this semester, like I said in one of my recent posts. School takes up just about six hours of my entire week; studying for my subjects takes up about… well, I haven’t done that yet. I’m much more in the mood to read and write and fix my life.

The Catcher in the Rye is about a boy who got kicked out from college, flunked all his subjects aside from English. He hated how things went in there. It was just a story of what he did before going home. He doesn’t want to go home ‘til Wednesday, the day his parents would receive a letter from the school headmaster informing them about their son’s dismissal. And there were a lot of digressions on it. A lot. His thoughts along the way made it interesting.

I don’t want to compare authors since I respect their individual styles and I think everyone is good in their own ways. There weren’t much of quotable quotes in the book, unlike Dostoevsky. But that was a good thing in a way that I am not so anxious to mark pages with pretty lines. So I was able to focus on listening to the author talk, naturally.

I just said I do not want to compare authors but I’d also like to mention Charles Dickens here. He’s a classic, really. I’d like to think he’s the author’s favorite author. By the style of his writing, it may not be apparent. But he mentioned David Copperfield and Charles Dickens in the book. Okay, that may not mean anything at all, but I’d like to think that so please let me. Thinking about Dickens could have made his writing suck, but it didn’t. I don’t remember the last time I actually finished reading a book – I usually start reading and gets bored afterwards so I end up grabbing another book before even knowing the ending of the previous one. I do that most of the time. But The Rye, as I’d like to call it, actually got me wanting for more. I felt the author right in front of me, really. And oh, how I just wish I could hold him!

So about the not-so-many quotable quotes, I just have here three:

Certain things they should stay the way they are. You ought to be able to stick them in one of those big glass cases and just leave them alone.

The man falling isn’t permitted to feel or hear himself hit bottom. He just keeps falling and falling. The whole arrangement’s designed for men who, at some time or other in their lives, were looking for something their own environment couldn’t supply them with. Or they thought their own environment couldn’t supply them with. So they gave up looking. They gave it up before they ever really even got started.

The mark of the immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause, while the mark of the mature man is that he wants to live humbly for one.

Okay that last one just got me. Arrector pili muscles contracting! (Goose bumps) I don’t know why. Well, actually I do know why I just do not want to tell it here. I like authors.



P.S.

I am aware that my writing here and on my recent post is influenced by J.D Salinger. :D

Math and other things

I am thinking of my tutee right now. It’s 2am and I was just about to sleep but my mind’s pushing to places. I am thinking about my tutee and how our interaction today was different from any other sessions we had. It was the first time we had a three-hour session; it was supposedly for two hours only. It was the first time she cracked a joke on me, two actually; the first time we had a deal (that if she fail her long test tomorrow, I’ll make her run 5 rounds in the UP Acad Oval) I think she liked the idea but acted like she didn’t. Oh, high school girls. I’ve been there before; the first time we had a physical contact, that is, a high five whenever she gets the right answer just minutes before we ended the session; the first time we were actually almost being just ourselves – mocking each other and telling random things, whatever comes out. I must admit, at that time, I was becoming happy with what I was doing – teaching a high school student math. I never said I don’t like doing it before. As a matter of fact, I like doing it but sometimes slow people just gets into my nerves. Today, I loved teaching.

The mood at the beginning of that session was very different compared to the latter part of it. Because, before we began with what I planned to do, she handed me her quizzes on simplification and addition/subtraction of radicals, and her scores were almost like friction, negligible. Just almost. Or maybe I just have high standards for negligibility. I was so heartbroken at the time and I want to break down. But my intervention has not sunk in those tests yet, I thought. I hoped. I’m the type who does not easily give up, especially if I know I can do better. And I was certain I can do better with teaching her, pushing her to her limits.

I started the session the mock exam I made beforehand. And while she was into it, I was examining her exam papers. Oh, the pieces of my heart were just falling down those sheets. I computed her scores, 35% overall. A mountain and seven seas from the 75% passing grade. And to think tomorrow’s her long test? Oh, I could die. What have I done wrong? Am I not teaching her well? I can only blame myself. I want to tell you she really isn’t interested in the subject and if only she could pass by running a thousand miles instead of solving math problems, I’d swear she’d do it. But the blame’s still on me.

So what do I do when I’m teaching a student who’s not at all interested in the subject?

She loves running, or her team, or the field. I don’t know but her heart is obviously everywhere else, just not in math. She just got suspended from running/competing because she failed math. She won first place in the 2k event but she can’t get her medal because, technically, she’s no longer part of the team. And there are a lot of things she could lose if she continues to fail math. Not only her track team, but also her high school or her batchmates. If she succeeds in failing math once again, she won’t be allowed to enter third year in the same school. That means, either she has to transfer to another school or repeat second year high school. If only my opinion matters, either of the two is a good way to go. Because in my opinion, she hasn’t learn anything in math since Grade 1. It’s really disappointing to have to go back to the basics when you are teaching a second year high school student, who cannot even add fractions! Oh, it gets into my nerves.

It’s heartbreaking. I can tell by the stories and the tone of her voice that she really loves to run. She’d rather train than study math! When we change the topic from math to running, the tone of her voice suddenly shifts from bored to excited. It just pumps her up.

What I like about teaching is that it makes my short piece of patience longer. Really it does. I swear, when it comes to people who are slow to pick up, I don’t have the patience to discuss a lot of things with them a lot of times. I just don’t want to get into that kind of trouble.

But the thing about teaching math (or any subject for that matter) is that it’s not actually just your student you’re teaching or who’s learning. It’s not actually just your student who’s getting something from you. If you think I’m saying I am getting something from my student, well you are partly right. The thing is, I am getting something from myself as well. If she’s not picking up what I said, then that would only mean I am not communicating well with her. I am not conveying the words in a manner she’d understand. This is something I learned from my boy. I learned a lot of things from him. He’d make a good teacher. He was good for me.

Going back to my tutee, I think what we need is rapport. First and foremost, she has to trust me. And even if it’s hard, I have to trust her – that she’ll be able to pick things up. She tells me things she doesn’t want to tell her mom, and I think that’s a good start. But she’s a kid, she tells a lot of things.

I want this tutor-tutee relationship work. It’s like having a little sister. I want to take her to UP, to show her what a nice campus UP has. I want to tell her about architecture and what good things that comes from it and all about its grandeur and elegance. I want to take her for a jog regularly and we’ll have breakfast somewhere. And we’ll talk about math discreetly. I want to be a good model for her – show her how important it is to balance things in life, like training for running and math and other school stuff. I want to tell her what I wished I have known when I was still in high school. I want to warn her about life outside the family and how it feels to be far from home. I want her to be good in math, and a lot of other things. I want her to like numbers like I do, and letters, and art. I want her to grow up to be better than me.

Something about Running

New Balance Chevrolet Power Run 2011

I have been planning on writing about this since that day. I want to share to you how I managed to finish my first more-than-half marathon, 25k to be exact. I want to tell you how I managed to run for three hours straight without stopping, with the exception of tying my shoe lace once. I want to tell you how it feels like to run in the rain starting at 4:50 in the morning. I want to tell you how it feels when you pass by someone who seems to run out of breath and all you have are legs and knees that are a little tired. I want to tell you how it felt whenever I overtake men. I want to tell you what I was thinking during those three hours of running, feeling like the queen of the road. I want to tell you  how strong my will at that time that it didn't matter if my knees are weak, and my heart weaker. I want to tell you how it felt when I finally saw the finish line and how I gained much more energy at that time. I want to tell you how it felt to be stronger than ever. I want to tell you all these and more.


But I'm so scared my words might not be enough. I'm scared that I would only demean this one great experience I just had. I think by the title alone I just did injustice to this experience. You see, it's not just something about running. It's much more than that.

Maybe, when I become better with words, I'll tell you.

Move.

I am thinking of running from here to any beach. I'm taking my phone with me, in case i get injured along the way. I want to take a book with me, to read when I get there. Of course, I'm bringing my sports beans Mama gave me. I guess I'm gonna need more of that. And cash. And (knock on wood) for identification purposes in all cases of emergency, my student ID. If all else fails, I'd take the train to Bicol at night and wake up in an unfamiliar place. Press F5.

Journeys are the midwives of thought. Few places are more conducive to internal conversations than moving planes, ships, or trains. There is almost quaint correlation between what is before our eyes and the thoughts we are able to have in our heads: large thoughts at times requiring large views, and new thoughts, new places. -Alain de Botton

Read more here: http://www.kristinbairokeeffe.com/tag/living-architecture/

Habits

I just woke up. I slept at almost 3am and now it is almost 11:30am. I was planning on having oat granola for breakfast (I asked my guy roommate to buy me fresh milk last night) but rather I'm taking it for lunch. Later, I will be meeting my sister and my brother and we're eating buffet so my stomach would be compensated.


I only have 5 units this semester and I am far from being busy:

Tuesdays and Thursday afternoons are for school. So what about the other days? What am I gonna do with this life? A lot actually. This is the life I've been wanting to have. I have been wanting to quit school so this is almost like it. Almost. Maybe. This is the perfect time to fix myself. And earn some money. Haha.

The lack of will made me hop on random things to do. This is wrong. Men's natures are alike; it is their habits that separate them. I have not been allocating time to read books when I should be spending most of my time on that. Though I miss Pip, I have to grab other books for now.

That I am writing right now is a good action and a habit I must not break: write upon waking up, where thoughts are clearer, unbiased. Record experience. Developing this habit to write would also be one of the goals this semester. These habits of reading and writing (what about architecture? don't worry I also have plans for that but not for now) would make my life stable. Watching movies could also take some of my time, as it refreshes my mind and brings me new perspective.  But only the good ones.

The Talented Mr. Ripley: reason why I slept late last night.

Matt Damon is just great. He made my arrector pili muscles contract! Basically, the movie shows how one lie can lead to ripples of lies that can affect your whole life and your well-being. It was a good watch, except for the blood.

"Don't you just take the past and put it in a room in a basement and lock the door and never go in there? That's what I do, And then you meet someone special and all you want to do is to toss them the key and say; open up, step inside, but you can't, because it's dark, There's demons and if anybody saw how ugly it is. I keep wanted to do that, fling the door open just let light in and clean everything out."

Last night at Leona Art Restaurant: dinner alone.

Also, art therapy with my roommate makes me excited! That's the long time dream. I've been yearning for paint brush and a canvas for years. It's better to be with my friends now, now that they know about me and what I am going through. To be with them has never been easier. Oh, this would be a great semester. I feel like I've been handed a new life. :)

My virtue is selflessness.

It feels heavy whenever I become selfish so I always try to let everyone else have their piece before I have mine. I give not to myself, what anyone deserves to have. I am sensitive to the needs of the people around me, at least the needs I am capable of identifying and providing. I put myself at the end of a line, allowing others to get ahead of me to have what they need (or want.) I try to be kind to every stranger I meet, a politician at that, as my father says. I always try to give way to others, to the point that a half-hour drive may take me three times longer just because I am the one who'd always yield. 

But equilibrium is inevitable. Life, they say, must be balanced. I give a lot to people, so there is this voice within telling me that I should also take something from life. I cannot just give and give and give without taking anything in return. Something must be taken from life.

I was unaware before that I am compensating myself by biting more than I can chew, literally. I was taking more than what my body needs, in food and sleep. I was trying to get from life what I thought I deserve. I was never really altruistic. I wasn't giving without demanding anything in return. At the end of the day, I demand for some reward that I must have for myself. Thus, the trash eating, a lot of unproductive days, long hours of sleep and idle moments.

There are a lot of other ways to compensate myself for my selflessness. There are a lot of ways to feed ourselves. And we can also choose which of our needs to feed. Some choose to feed their carnal needs. Some choose to feed their hungry and growling stomachs. Some, their intellectual needs and some, their emotional needs.

Now the question is, which need needs to be fed most importantly? If my virtue is selflessness, I need not feed myself at all. There is this thing we call sacrifice. Now equilibrium is already out of the question.