Collective Thoughts

 When Inconsistency is the only Consistent

 

If one makes up his mind, that would mean he has a choice to make, otherwise, why would one needs to think things over and make his mind up right?

 

So following that premise, would it be right to say that it is somehow wrong to say “I have no choice”?

 

Everyone has a choice.

 

Everything is a choice waiting to be picked on.

 

Most of the things we do are done because we decided to do it (well except of course the reflexes and some bodily functions for survival).

 

But outside the realm of our autonomic nervous system, we are bound by choices.

 

There are several options to choose from, it could be either of the following:

1. Win-Win

2. Win-Lose

3. Lose-Lose

 

In the case of No.’s 2 & 3, a compromise would always sound favorable to minimize the feeling of losing. However, it’s also possible that a compromise would be impossible, that’s when the grieved party cries: “I was FORCED to do it. I have no choice.”

 

Of course there was a choice. That’s just figure of speech. How could one decide he has without other options if he had undergone the process of decision making? Decision process is of course the process of making choices or reaching conclusions. What is there to decide, if from the beginning there was nothing be decided upon?

 

Which will go back to my premise that: If one makes up his mind that would mean he had a choice to make.

 

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Isn’t it a bit hypocritical to laugh when all you want to do is to let those freaking tears flow?

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Would doing the right thing be the same as doing the best thing?

 

The right thing isn’t necessarily the best thing and vice versa, but we always need a compromise.

 

Sometimes we give up our happiness not because it was the best thing but because it was the right thing to do.

 

And sometimes, we give up our happiness not because it was the right thing to do, but it was the best thing to be done.

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I’m reading Haruki Murakami’s works. So far, I’ve properly read two of his writings which include the popular Norwegian Wood and the also critically acclaimed The Wind-up Bird Chronicle. I’ve already said this but the first time I actually read Norwegian Wood, I did not like the book at all. Perhaps it was my age, I was only 17 then. But then that’s just my poor excuse in my less than successful understanding of the book. Fast forward three years later, I began to appreciate the book after reading it the second time around and then I began to look up Murakami’s other works, which will bring me to The Wind-up Bird Chronicle. The title itself was a catchphrase. I’ve been meaning to read ‘Kafka on the Shore’ first; however, this book landed on my lap my means of a wrapper (a.k.a birthday gift). Again the first time I’ve read it, I was confused. I mean, what the heck the whole book was about? Sure, there was the lost cat and the main character’s quest to find his wife. I mean I get the gist, but what does that really ‘mean’? Is Murakami philosophical? Like Antoine de Saint-Exupery’s The Little Prince? Or maybe like Coelho’s The Alchemist? Well, he could be like them in a way, but Murakami’s approach to the subject was his own. Entirely original I should say, and so, today, I will gladly say that I am Murakami’s fan already. There are three books of his writing waiting to be read. I’ve already scanned After Dark, and I actually liked it. It’s short and straightforward, but very mysterious. I never did found out about Eri’s sleeping problem. Murakami’s being metamorphic right? I would never know. Then there’s Kafka on the Shore. Then the last, Dance Dance Dance. Hopefully I’d be able to read them all before the month ends.

———-

I’ll tell you one secret. I eat my books like pizza. I eat them hot. (I guess I don’t make sense, which is probably good because I don’t want to make sense)

———-

Do you know what are the signs and symptoms of a person called ‘Nerd’ or ‘Dork’? I’ll tell you one. If she hears a new word she’d immediately look it up in a dictionary. Another if she can’t remember something she knows she knew, she’d open her textbooks no matter how dusty those books are to find what that something was, or else she would not have sleep a wink during nighttime.

 

I guess you know why I would know. Because I am one. I am such a dork, but nobody would affirm it because I’m discreet about it. My friends actually think I’m cool, carefree and laid-back. Or maybe they are dorks too, just like me after all, it takes one to know one, right?

———

 

 

Finally, we were able to move out from our old apartment. I lived there for almost six years. It was a good apartment. The one we moved into was a bit bad, with bad drainage, almost bad neighborhood and with meddling neighbors. They might call me snob, which I’m really not. I just hate very social neighbors, who love gossips like food. And they look like the type of neighbors I wouldn’t like. In our old apartment the neighbors respect our privacy and our loner quality, so I hope our new neighbors would leave us alone.

 

Anyway, there are still so much to unpack. I don’t like packing and unpacking. It’s so tiring. My arms are sore.

———–

“We must struggle for our dreams, but we must also know that when certain paths prove impossible it would be best to save our energies in order to travel other roads.”

———–

Revisiting my Personal Legend: The Alchemist in Second Reading

 

“Where your heart is, there lies your treasure”

 

But where is my heart?

 

Nowhere.

 

It is silent as darkness,

It is uncertain as doubt.

 

It recognizes fear, anger,

Loneliness and a bit of joy.

 

The treasure that people speak of

Is never visible.

A mere feeling, it is not?

No, more than that of course.

A treasure, priceless than any gems.

 

Where my heart does leads me?

I do not know.

I listened hard,

But I barely heard it.

 

I go as my mind dictates me,

But…

With a beating heart that guides me.

 

————-

 

Our personal legends could be our life’s purpose. We’ve read/heard of The Purpose Driven Life and we’ve browsed numerous self-help books in our quest for happiness, meaning and purpose. But do we find it in pages of books? What is it we are looking for? Everyone has answers. Everyone has opinions. The world is simple, complicated by our own reasons. Why can’t we say yes as a definite yes? It’s often “yes, but…” Could it be that reason blinds us from seeing the truth? They say, “The heart does things for reasons that even reason could never understand.” In effect, it is our heart that manipulates us, more than our minds. It is our hearts that betray us. It is our hearts that lead us to suffering. And perhaps, ultimately, our demise or otherwise.

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How Do You Call A House A Home?

 

It was March 2003 when I moved to my second home in Davao, the first being the dorms near the school. It was decided that I was to move in with my older brother Darrel to minimize living cost as well as accommodation. It was a nice arrangement. In fact, I like it. The apartment was nice, with clean surrounding and tall gates. It was fairly safe, near to a convenience store, a hospital, lots of pharmacies and a good number of private clinics not to mention restaurants and other necessities. Bottom line, the apartment was located in a strategic location.

 

A few years after that, our older brother got a job in the local government office so he went to live with us. A little more than after a year, my parents started a small business, so we moved into a bigger apartment, but still in the same compound and with the same owner. Almost two years after, we moved into a farther, somehow smaller but otherwise habitable apartment and the upside of this new place is its very nice location.

 

I’ve moved into countless houses (of course I’m exaggerating). I’ve packed and unpacked more than I could imagine, and that’s what I dislike most in moving houses.

 

The longest I’ve stayed in one place was six years. That’s pretty long right? But I’ve been living in this world for almost a quarter of a century, which could mean, that there were still 19 years that were unaccounted for. So, if I break those 19 years down, that would be:

 

Birth- 4 y.o. - Bohol (1x)

4 y.o.- 6 y.o  Cebu (3x?)

6y.o. – 12 y.o Naci (1x)

12 – 16  Poblacion (1x)

16 -23  Davao (4x)

 

So to speak, I had a scattered childhood. I speak two vernaculars fluently, with the addition of my national language and of course the universal language in effect that would make me quadrilingual (does this word even exist?). Being a mover taught me to establish routine quite easily and to adjust to my environment as needed, it also taught me not to get too attached to people because saying goodbye sucks a lot, and I suck at it too. So I moved from place to place, learned from it and heck, I still hate packing and unpacking!

 

This latest moving out of ours has been talked about by my brother Dave and I. We looked at a few houses already early this year but it was never materialized because something came up. I got accepted as a nurse trainee at DMC which was only a hundred meters away from my place, so we waited until I was done (after six months). When I finished my training I started packing my things and Dave started to look around for houses/apartments. And here we are, boxes are still unpacked but otherwise seemingly managed to live quite in comfort.

 

With all these moving outs that I’ve been through one would think that I was already used to it. But the truth is I’m not. I hate changing things when I already made the place as a safe harbor. I dislike stepping out the bounds of my comfort zone. Because as easy as it was to build my walls, it was very difficult to break it, and often I bleed as for the reason of my own doing.

 

I know I bleed, but I heal too.

 

In Time.

Who Knows?

We Will Never Know

“But knowing what I don’t want to do doesn’t help me figure out what I do want to do. I could do just about anything if somebody made me. But I don’t have an image of one thing I really want to do. That’s my problem now. I can’t find the image.” —-The Wind-up Bird Chronicle (Haruki Murakami)

I re-read The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery last night and I was struck, once again, by the allegory of the story. It represented the multitude of facets human being has had.

There was this particular line that the fox told the little prince: “What is essential is invisible to the eye.” That what made the little prince’s rose different from all the other roses in the world was because he cared for his rose. I remember this part of the story quite distinctly; it was the famous chapter after all. But then last night, as I perused the book once more, I realized that I had been unfair to the book, though, I must say, the meeting and parting of the fox and the little prince was somewhat the pinnacle of the story, I was somewhat focused on that aspect alone.

But last night, as I was near in the book’s closing, I was affected by the narrator’s question whether the sheep in the box that he drew for the little prince ate his rose.

I quote Mr. De Saint-Exupery:

“…Has the sheep eaten the flower, yes or no? And you will see how everything changes”

Certainly, it could hold different meanings to different readers. For me, it represented the “what ifs in my life.” Though I know better than to wish for the clock to turn its hand back to yesterday. I wish there was someway to determine if indeed the sheep has eaten the rose. I wish there was someway I could know how my future would look like. The narrator forgot to draw the leather strap so logic would tell us that the sheep might have eaten the rose since the muzzle could not be fastened, however, one mystery remained, how could we ever know if the sheep had really eaten the rose?

Ever since I was young I was often confused of the things that I would want to do when I grow up. I was a simpleton, my only hope was to graduate from college and have a stable job, how would I attain it was entirely depended on my mother who saw to it that we get a good education regardless of our financial instability. It bothered me that I often change career paths from accountant to teacher to linguist to architect—how I ended up graduating with a Bachelor’s degree in nursing is a wonder to me, and now as a full pledge nurse, I’m still perplexed as to why am I in this place. No doubt the course of my profession shaped most of my views in life; I can’t help but be wistful of the things that I love doing. I want to know what my passion is and be passionate about it.

Most of the things I did were done because I was asked to do it, I have to do it and everyone expects me to do it. I was put in a box, labeled, just like everyone else, and, me, on the other hand accepted the fate with whines, yet I was still able to do those things in spite of the annoyance or perhaps irritation.

I love being a nurse, that is without a question. I love the thrill of the hospital. I love the feeling of being needed. Why do I feel this? Perhaps, because I needed my patients more than they needed me. I needed them to assure me that I am still humane. A poor excuse, I daresay, but it’s the truth. My patients are my affirmation of existence.

The coherence of this entry might be confusing, but my goal is not to confuse but the write what has been bugging me for a long time.

I think I have been better as a teacher in literature. All through out my life, I have never loved anything more than reading. I was in first grade when I learned to read, second grade when I started reading by eyes and by that time also, I read my first story (the title of which was sadly forgotten). I have been looking for my passion, and the truth is reading is my passion. Literature has always been my favorite subject, I often marveled the descriptions told in the stories I read and wished to myself to write good stories someday. But then I shifted to poetry, but still reading gives me the ultimate pleasure of sweet escape and a pretense of tranquility from the brutal truths of reality.

Had I been a teacher, would I have been a different person than I am now?

I would never know.

Perhaps.

I Wish A Circle Has A Corner

How is it that it feels like I’m running in circles?

A year ago, I took my detour, and I’m still stuck in the detour I’ve chosen for myself. I’ve been going about on a circle, never really knowing where I’m headed or what I’m looking for. I had a vague sense of things that I want and how to achieve them; I’ve been quite restless these past few weeks, with so many things to consider. I’ve formed a new routine in my life, and I have enclosed myself once more in a carefully woven comfort. I should really stop from getting too comfortable, but it isn’t my fault that I get so comfortable easily. Falling to a routine is such an easy task. And ironically, it isn’t as easy as to break the pattern as forming it.

The last two months were the months where I most traveled. And during these trips, I’ve been thinking really shallow thoughts. These nonsense thoughts are the consequences of my resolved last year— that I stop over thinking. I did stop, now I’m wishing I was thinking the same thing as I was thinking last year. I was so driven then. But now, I’m almost a lack luster star. Twinkling but not bright enough. The waiting is slowly consuming me.

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Sometimes I wonder why my friends do not communicate as much and I realized that because each of us changed, perhaps because some of us don’t hold the same interest anymore, we may not laugh on the same jokes and we may not listen to the same music anymore. The common ground has cracked, and so is the line of communication, but that didn’t mean we’re not friends any longer. It’s just that we simply became different people.

We became friends at different stages of my life, and as I explore my potentials, we weren’t on the same path anymore.

It isn’t sad (though I used to be bitter about this), but rather a learning process. We all need to spread our wings a little higher, to not to confine ourselves with our little circle.

I used to hate mingling with strangers, but now, I’m used to dealing with them, having fun with them, having good conversations and becoming friends with these random people from various ages and walks of life.

I can’t hold it against my friends if they fail to send me a simple text message, or they forgot to PM me. We developed different priorities, but I know, in our hearts, we will be friends. Always.

————

I’ll watch High School Musical 3: Senior year today with Nikki. I’m not really that eager to watch, because I’ve made my horrible opinion of Zac and less than horrible opinion on his reel-and-real love interest Vanessa. Anyhow, I’d still watch it.

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I think I have a better grasp on my mother now. We never really spent so much time together and I know I’ve said some words that hurt her. In a way, I’d like to think that I understood her now, but perhaps, I will never ever understand how her mind works, or what her intentions are.

———–

Because the whole destiny thing is a bull. It’s a pathetic excuse of how a person screws up his life.

It is my choice, as much as it yours, now that is destiny. Sure we decide for ourselves, but that exactly is the point, we do not have absolute control over our lives, yes, we hold some strings, but these strings get tangled, sometimes these strings completely broke off.

Destiny is an illusion. We do not know more about our own fate; except that we’re all gonna die someday. That’s a fact. And all these gibberish about our future all narrow down to that.

—————–

Fire and Ice by Robert Frost

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

Age Is…

Just a number. Simple as that. But with completely irrelevelant subsequent sentences, I’d say, we only see what we wanted to see.

——–

I can’t believe it’s quite restful to stay in the province. Perhaps the missing presence of a man called my mother’s husband wasn’t there. hahaha:p

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I wasn’t still called for an interview. I got so much hope that I will get the job. Oh, wells…

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Twilight is coming this month!!!! so excited already.