As of this writing, I'm currently in the waiting area for my flight later going to Hong Kong. While waiting for the plane, I have a considerable amount of minutes to spare to be online. Thank goodness, at least, the airport has good (and free) WiFi.
So why not update this blog yah?
This is actually my first time to fly alone without any company at all. Usually, it's either I'm with my mother or work colleagues.
Exciting, in a way. I hope all goes well by touchdown time.
I'm still thinking whether I'll take the train or the bus going to Central later. The bus is more affordable, but my heart says to take the train and save some time. After all, I could use some jaunt in H&M before the clock strikes 12, and yes, I will become a year older.
I still can't believe that it's going to be my birthday in a few hours. Looking back, I couldn't help but wonder if I spent this year wisely or if it was as personality-enriching as it should be.
For one, my non-existent dating routine still sort of bugs me. I'm going to be a year older and I'm still single--since birth.
Actually, someone with a gift for sensing the future told me around June this year that I will be in a relationship around September to November.
I was actually ecstatic, or curious rather to see how it will unfold and go. "You will just know," she said.
Then, sometime, in October, I settled a three-year-long, uhm, misunderstanding/fight with a former crush. I have to admit that seeing him in person after three years made me giddy. I thought that was it.
Then again, it was not. The giddiness was momentary, and eventually, I discovered that it was something I needed to move forward fully. And I can say now that while he's still cute, I don't have a crush on him anymore.
November came and nadah. No prospect. And as the days passed, I started to have thoughts that being in a relationship is, surprisingly, not that big of a deal yet. Heck, I'm still clueless about dating.
Though I had to ask myself what's wrong with me anyway. I mean, on the risk of sounding vain, I know that I'm handsome in some ways. Or I guess maybe I still need to figure and fix some things within myself. And when I finally arrange some aspects in my life, maybe that's the time when life will be ready to steer me toward a special someone.
Oh well, the plane has arrived. The boarding will be a bit delayed. I'm still excited to go to Hong Kong and celebrate my birthday and New Year's Eve there. Who knows what will happen? People say that you have to kiss a few frogs first before finding The One. I can say that I'm not looking for The One yet, but a few good-looking frogs in the next few days wouldn't hurt.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Thursday, November 24, 2011
A writer's woe
I heard somewhere (I think it's from an episode of Sex and The City) that writing is a solitary job. Well, I have to say that I agree.
It's been said that the measure of a true writer is being able to write no matter what the circumstances are. In my opinion, it depends on the situation and the level of writing required.
Personally, when I need to write something major, I prefer to work alone in a quiet space. I can be picky on that. It has to be really quiet, like super silent. That kind of environment allows me to think really well in a relaxed manner, where I can momentarily put other worries in the backburner.
Earlier, I was trying my best to finish an urgent article. 2:00 am was a good option. I just took a bath, and feeling refreshed, I headed downstairs, straight to the dining area, where I comfortably placed myself and set my mind to writing mode. My parents are asleep and the whole neighborhood was in slumber. The dogs were barely barking. Perfect.
After two hours or so, barely half into my article, paradise was ruined. My father woke up, and he proceeded to the washing machine. He operated it, and the whirling sounds and the screeching alarm it makes when the spinning time ends instantly made me cranky. He started moving around the house. He prepared coffee, fed the dog... basically, thank you for ruining the writing plan.
Is it too much to ask for a couple of hours of silence? Apparently, yes. In an increasingly online and mobile world, maybe the gift of silence is really a luxury these days.
I can say so because right now, I kind of wish I had my own place. A place where it's only me, myself and I, where the right words, the proper transition sentences and the good angles and story line will flow into my mind and into my fingers at peace.
Now, people, I must get back to business. After all, complaining can only do so much. There's a reason for the word "adjustment," right?
It's been said that the measure of a true writer is being able to write no matter what the circumstances are. In my opinion, it depends on the situation and the level of writing required.
Personally, when I need to write something major, I prefer to work alone in a quiet space. I can be picky on that. It has to be really quiet, like super silent. That kind of environment allows me to think really well in a relaxed manner, where I can momentarily put other worries in the backburner.
Earlier, I was trying my best to finish an urgent article. 2:00 am was a good option. I just took a bath, and feeling refreshed, I headed downstairs, straight to the dining area, where I comfortably placed myself and set my mind to writing mode. My parents are asleep and the whole neighborhood was in slumber. The dogs were barely barking. Perfect.
After two hours or so, barely half into my article, paradise was ruined. My father woke up, and he proceeded to the washing machine. He operated it, and the whirling sounds and the screeching alarm it makes when the spinning time ends instantly made me cranky. He started moving around the house. He prepared coffee, fed the dog... basically, thank you for ruining the writing plan.
Is it too much to ask for a couple of hours of silence? Apparently, yes. In an increasingly online and mobile world, maybe the gift of silence is really a luxury these days.
I can say so because right now, I kind of wish I had my own place. A place where it's only me, myself and I, where the right words, the proper transition sentences and the good angles and story line will flow into my mind and into my fingers at peace.
Now, people, I must get back to business. After all, complaining can only do so much. There's a reason for the word "adjustment," right?
Sunday, October 9, 2011
For my gym buddy, may you rest in peace
I think my writer's block just went away, momentarily at least.
A few minutes ago, I found out in Facebook that a gym buddy passed away recently. He committed suicide.
I was browsing some of my friends' profiles and stumbled upon on the sad news. It was a shock, something totally unexpected.
He was young. He could pass as a High School student, though his profile says that he's studying in college. I don't know what his course is (or if I know or it was mentioned, I must have forgotten it). Basically, I didn't know him on a profound level. We were not close, and sadly, no chance to be.
It was a male model that got us acquainted with each other, sort of. He and his buddies and I introduced ourselves to each other after we clicked talking about a certain Filipino-Australian model who also works out in the gym we were in.
Then, we would bump into each other and say a few pleasantries, and talk over stuff. Nothing profound, actually. But I really have fun when I talk to him and his buddies... sad, now, he's gone. He was chipper, and his aura seemed light and carefree.
Perhaps the most fun thing we did was when we attended a party organized by a High School boy. It was on a penthouse in Quezon City, and we danced the night away together with our friends.
Then life just went on. We were fair weather buddies. I didn't see him in the gym for a while. I think I got a text message from him before; it was a general group message, sent months ago, that didn't carry a hint of any suicidal tendency. He was just going somewhere, and I didn't reply.
I wish I did. I wish I initiated more friendship rather than indifference. It's not like I blame myself over what happened because I was clueless on whatever he is struggling with and was not close enough to him in order to give unsolicited advice of any sort.
It is more on panghihinayang. He had potential to succeed and be the person he is supposed to be and accomplish extraordinary things in life. He was young, and to be young and waste it on youth is such a gift.
If only someone had reminded him of that, on how special he is, maybe he would still be alive.
Was he alone in his struggle? What made him give up the fight?
Apparently, he wasn't really alone. Maybe he just didn't know it.
On his Facebook wall, there is an outpour of posts from our friends. They say that they love him, how special he is, and yes, how we should all pray for his eternal peace and joy. Seeing his profile online gave me goosebumps in the beginning, but now it is ok. I'm still a bit confused though on whether it is right to actually post something regarding it in Facebook. But one thing's for sure: I definitely share their sentiments.
To RJ/Bhabygurl,
Girl, I hope the Afterlife's treating you well. May you find eternal joy and peace in Heaven and in God's loving grace. Hindi man tayo naging super close, I know that the few memories we have together are bongga and enjoyable. Naging mabuti kang kaibigan in your own ways, dahil isa ka sa mga tao na nagparamdam ng genuine friendship sa akin sa Fitness First, together with our other friends. Wag ka lang magparamdam sa akin as a spirit, ok? :-) On a serious note, I wish you all the happiness up there. Forever young ka na, and you will forever enjoy the perks of youth. No need to worry about aging and getting old. You will always be young up there and may you continue to spread good vibes in Heaven.
Xoxo,
Eugene
A few minutes ago, I found out in Facebook that a gym buddy passed away recently. He committed suicide.
I was browsing some of my friends' profiles and stumbled upon on the sad news. It was a shock, something totally unexpected.
He was young. He could pass as a High School student, though his profile says that he's studying in college. I don't know what his course is (or if I know or it was mentioned, I must have forgotten it). Basically, I didn't know him on a profound level. We were not close, and sadly, no chance to be.
It was a male model that got us acquainted with each other, sort of. He and his buddies and I introduced ourselves to each other after we clicked talking about a certain Filipino-Australian model who also works out in the gym we were in.
Then, we would bump into each other and say a few pleasantries, and talk over stuff. Nothing profound, actually. But I really have fun when I talk to him and his buddies... sad, now, he's gone. He was chipper, and his aura seemed light and carefree.
Perhaps the most fun thing we did was when we attended a party organized by a High School boy. It was on a penthouse in Quezon City, and we danced the night away together with our friends.
Then life just went on. We were fair weather buddies. I didn't see him in the gym for a while. I think I got a text message from him before; it was a general group message, sent months ago, that didn't carry a hint of any suicidal tendency. He was just going somewhere, and I didn't reply.
I wish I did. I wish I initiated more friendship rather than indifference. It's not like I blame myself over what happened because I was clueless on whatever he is struggling with and was not close enough to him in order to give unsolicited advice of any sort.
It is more on panghihinayang. He had potential to succeed and be the person he is supposed to be and accomplish extraordinary things in life. He was young, and to be young and waste it on youth is such a gift.
If only someone had reminded him of that, on how special he is, maybe he would still be alive.
Was he alone in his struggle? What made him give up the fight?
Apparently, he wasn't really alone. Maybe he just didn't know it.
On his Facebook wall, there is an outpour of posts from our friends. They say that they love him, how special he is, and yes, how we should all pray for his eternal peace and joy. Seeing his profile online gave me goosebumps in the beginning, but now it is ok. I'm still a bit confused though on whether it is right to actually post something regarding it in Facebook. But one thing's for sure: I definitely share their sentiments.
To RJ/Bhabygurl,
Girl, I hope the Afterlife's treating you well. May you find eternal joy and peace in Heaven and in God's loving grace. Hindi man tayo naging super close, I know that the few memories we have together are bongga and enjoyable. Naging mabuti kang kaibigan in your own ways, dahil isa ka sa mga tao na nagparamdam ng genuine friendship sa akin sa Fitness First, together with our other friends. Wag ka lang magparamdam sa akin as a spirit, ok? :-) On a serious note, I wish you all the happiness up there. Forever young ka na, and you will forever enjoy the perks of youth. No need to worry about aging and getting old. You will always be young up there and may you continue to spread good vibes in Heaven.
Xoxo,
Eugene
Twosomes
It's been a while since I last updated my blog. And just to let you know I'm still alive, here are a few updates:
1. I have to read a Hemingway short story to have a better appreciation for a fashion show I recently watched. (The S/S 2012 clothes of the designer I'm referring to are really good, to the point I really compelled myself to buy and read a Hemingway... but hey, additional knowledge on literature wouldn't hurt, right?) On another note, Philippine Fashion Week S/S 2012 is just a few weeks away.
2. For this Sunday, my friends and I are going to watch No Other Woman. The trailer alone is good, and it's been the buzz lately around town. It will be my first time to watch it, and I'm actually excited to see it even if I asked my friend already who Derek Ramsey will choose in the end. Confession: Spoilers don't ruin my appetite to see a movie.
It's raining so hard while I write this and here are a few realizations:
1. Why is it always raining here in the country? While it's a rhetorical question, a big part of me wishes that it would rain instead on places that really need rain. Personally, what I don't like about the rain is that it is not commuter-friendly, at least from my opinion being a Manila resident.
2. I miss writing on a personal note. It's like I hit a writer's block (or rather, have run and bumped into a wall and knocked myself out) when it came to writing about myself and my opinions. Good thing I can still express them verbally when with friends. Witty humor, please, come back to me.
1. I have to read a Hemingway short story to have a better appreciation for a fashion show I recently watched. (The S/S 2012 clothes of the designer I'm referring to are really good, to the point I really compelled myself to buy and read a Hemingway... but hey, additional knowledge on literature wouldn't hurt, right?) On another note, Philippine Fashion Week S/S 2012 is just a few weeks away.
2. For this Sunday, my friends and I are going to watch No Other Woman. The trailer alone is good, and it's been the buzz lately around town. It will be my first time to watch it, and I'm actually excited to see it even if I asked my friend already who Derek Ramsey will choose in the end. Confession: Spoilers don't ruin my appetite to see a movie.
It's raining so hard while I write this and here are a few realizations:
1. Why is it always raining here in the country? While it's a rhetorical question, a big part of me wishes that it would rain instead on places that really need rain. Personally, what I don't like about the rain is that it is not commuter-friendly, at least from my opinion being a Manila resident.
2. I miss writing on a personal note. It's like I hit a writer's block (or rather, have run and bumped into a wall and knocked myself out) when it came to writing about myself and my opinions. Good thing I can still express them verbally when with friends. Witty humor, please, come back to me.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
If it's not working, try learning detachment
Random thought of the day:
Perhaps it is easy to get attached to a moment that is supposed to be fleeting. Like you meet someone and enjoy a good conversation... but somehow, deep in your heart and thoughts, you know that the fairy tale is going to end inevitably. Then again, you think to yourself, "No, maybe it's not. Maybe somehow we'll be friends. I've got no problem with that." And so begins a quest to delay destiny, and resorting to funny yet desperate measures that will hopefully turn fate's tables around.
What's ironic, though, is that it is safe to assume that maybe the signs have been clear all along. Or to be more precise, the person you found yourself hooked on has laid down his cards to begin with that perhaps you guys are not meant to know each other more or establish a long term friendship (it doesn't necessarily have to mean that one is after an intimate relationship or something).
Maybe trying to be friends with someone is something that should not be forced. At some point, after you've put your best efforts, you have to leave it up to the powers that be. So is it safe to say that we could take some cue from the art of bargaining? If you want something, you have to learn how to let it go and leave when the circumstances say so. If you get too attached to it, you'll become nuts and end up as a desperate loser.
And then there's Facebook. The online realm has made the world so much smaller. You can always give it a shot by clicking the "Add Friend" button, but don't put expectations on it. It can be pending for a long time (perhaps hitting the "Not Now" button is considered, uhm, harsh?), so I guess here's a mindset that can help: If s/he confirms your invite, then good. If s/he leaves it up on the air, then just let it be and think that whatever happens is cool with you. If s/he doesn't approve it, then fine, it's his/her loss and just respect his/her decision. After all, hell is what we make out of it. It's either we ponder on why it didn't work and give ourselves a petty headache, or we move forward and learn the art of detachment.
Perhaps it is easy to get attached to a moment that is supposed to be fleeting. Like you meet someone and enjoy a good conversation... but somehow, deep in your heart and thoughts, you know that the fairy tale is going to end inevitably. Then again, you think to yourself, "No, maybe it's not. Maybe somehow we'll be friends. I've got no problem with that." And so begins a quest to delay destiny, and resorting to funny yet desperate measures that will hopefully turn fate's tables around.
What's ironic, though, is that it is safe to assume that maybe the signs have been clear all along. Or to be more precise, the person you found yourself hooked on has laid down his cards to begin with that perhaps you guys are not meant to know each other more or establish a long term friendship (it doesn't necessarily have to mean that one is after an intimate relationship or something).
Maybe trying to be friends with someone is something that should not be forced. At some point, after you've put your best efforts, you have to leave it up to the powers that be. So is it safe to say that we could take some cue from the art of bargaining? If you want something, you have to learn how to let it go and leave when the circumstances say so. If you get too attached to it, you'll become nuts and end up as a desperate loser.
And then there's Facebook. The online realm has made the world so much smaller. You can always give it a shot by clicking the "Add Friend" button, but don't put expectations on it. It can be pending for a long time (perhaps hitting the "Not Now" button is considered, uhm, harsh?), so I guess here's a mindset that can help: If s/he confirms your invite, then good. If s/he leaves it up on the air, then just let it be and think that whatever happens is cool with you. If s/he doesn't approve it, then fine, it's his/her loss and just respect his/her decision. After all, hell is what we make out of it. It's either we ponder on why it didn't work and give ourselves a petty headache, or we move forward and learn the art of detachment.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Baby steps
Little things I want to do for self improvement:
1. Write more, and develop my skills further.
2. Have enough discipline to work out more and eat rightly.
3. Do the Nestle Fitnesse 14-day diet properly... I hope. :-)
4. Organize my priorities better.
5. Enjoy my youth by going out more and meeting as many new people as possible.
Sounds pretty easy, right?
1. Write more, and develop my skills further.
2. Have enough discipline to work out more and eat rightly.
3. Do the Nestle Fitnesse 14-day diet properly... I hope. :-)
4. Organize my priorities better.
5. Enjoy my youth by going out more and meeting as many new people as possible.
Sounds pretty easy, right?
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Looking for a dormant, old voice
I read somewhere (to paraphrase) that it pays to write everyday as it can help you develop your storytelling skills. For writers, maybe it's true. After all, a real writer must be able to write under any circumstance.
Which, if you look at this blog's situation, is ironic. It's been six months (Half a year, would you believe it?) since I last posted something and it wasn't even that sensible to begin with (same with my previous entries, I believe).
The truth is, I would open my dashboard every now and then and try to write something. I would type a few sentences, and for some reason, I would delete what I just wrote because I would realize that I didn't have any particular story to tell (or maybe I just didn't know how to tell them). Mostly, I just have random thoughts swimming in my head that ended up being lost in my own translation (lame). Maybe I was a better writer during my younger years, even if I can say that I'm now older and wiser compared to my teenage and college phase.
So what happened?
I was a relatively late bloomer as a writer. It started when I stumbled upon Celine Lopez's From Coffee to Cocktails column in The Philippine Star, which I inevitably followed every week. I was a high school senior then, and reading a fun and youthful glamorous column naturally appealed to me. It was a domino effect, as I started to read chick lit and teen-oriented books along with local fashion magazines. I didn't read classic literature (save for The Catcher and The Rye), but at least reading became a habit of sorts.
And just like a sponge, I started to look forward to writing essays for our English subject. I was relatively fast, and sometimes even helped my friends by sharing a few ideas or so to them. Compared to my previous years, writing essays felt less scholarly as mere requirements. Writing became exciting, to the point that I actually craved for more. I know a humorous and witty voice bloomed.
Self-righteous as it may seem, but I felt a certain amount of pride and validation when my English teacher (and class advicer at the same time) started to praise me in class. She would share to us some of the worthwhile essays from other sections that she read, and I couldn't help but wonder if she also harped about me to our neighboring classrooms.
In my highschool yearbook, she described me as akin to "flowing water--gentle and full of vibrance." "Read his works and you'll be mesmerized by his thoughts and diction... a superb English writer." I wonder if it's still true. One thing's for sure though, I would hate to see such a statement go to waste.
I took up Communication in college. There, I found some people who appreciated my works and soon enough, I had a brief stint in the official school paper, where I learned more about feature writing and journalism. I also got heartbroken and started to pour my thoughts in a personal blog until I got tired of it.
I eventually found myself in the journalism field, where I learned that writing is a responsibility. It's a continuous learning experience that I actually value and regard with respect (which is why I don't often put too much work-related stuff here).
But what bothers me is how I have been scampering for ideas when I try to write something personal, an entirely different spectrum from creatively thinking of angles for work purposes. This is the reason why I thought that maybe I was better in my younger years, that time when personal ideas just flowed endlessly and words and observations just came more effortlessly in an organic manner. Each time I would watch Sex And The City reruns, I couldn't help but wish I had Carrie's guts.
And I had a thought. Maybe I do have a Carrie Bradshaw inside me but I just don't know how I would exactly pull it off.
It occurred to me that I should learn to be less fearful of the uncertain if I want to find once again the personal writing voice I possessed during my teenage years (or even a better rendition of that). After all, life is indeed a bed of roses... with thorns. If I'm capable of embracing professional learning opportunities, I should be able to do the same for my personal life right? Instead of just thinking sporadic thoughts (or doing too much of it), it is time to take some action too. Little by little steps of courage and faith, I suppose.
If I'm not mistaken, one's 20s should be an exciting and fabulous phase as this is the period where one supposedly learns life's lessons fully, as one is not sheltered safely anymore in the confines of the academe. Here, I guess we try to get our act and traction together in dealing with life's ups and downs so that when we get into our 30s or 40s, we can safely say that we've been there and done this and that. They do say that youth is wasted on the young. I am in my early 20s and I should live life, as simple as that. And hopefully, by trying to be fearless in navigating through whatever situation there is, I may be able to say one day that I finally found what I've been looking for, or even a better one than expected.
Which, if you look at this blog's situation, is ironic. It's been six months (Half a year, would you believe it?) since I last posted something and it wasn't even that sensible to begin with (same with my previous entries, I believe).
The truth is, I would open my dashboard every now and then and try to write something. I would type a few sentences, and for some reason, I would delete what I just wrote because I would realize that I didn't have any particular story to tell (or maybe I just didn't know how to tell them). Mostly, I just have random thoughts swimming in my head that ended up being lost in my own translation (lame). Maybe I was a better writer during my younger years, even if I can say that I'm now older and wiser compared to my teenage and college phase.
So what happened?
I was a relatively late bloomer as a writer. It started when I stumbled upon Celine Lopez's From Coffee to Cocktails column in The Philippine Star, which I inevitably followed every week. I was a high school senior then, and reading a fun and youthful glamorous column naturally appealed to me. It was a domino effect, as I started to read chick lit and teen-oriented books along with local fashion magazines. I didn't read classic literature (save for The Catcher and The Rye), but at least reading became a habit of sorts.
And just like a sponge, I started to look forward to writing essays for our English subject. I was relatively fast, and sometimes even helped my friends by sharing a few ideas or so to them. Compared to my previous years, writing essays felt less scholarly as mere requirements. Writing became exciting, to the point that I actually craved for more. I know a humorous and witty voice bloomed.
Self-righteous as it may seem, but I felt a certain amount of pride and validation when my English teacher (and class advicer at the same time) started to praise me in class. She would share to us some of the worthwhile essays from other sections that she read, and I couldn't help but wonder if she also harped about me to our neighboring classrooms.
In my highschool yearbook, she described me as akin to "flowing water--gentle and full of vibrance." "Read his works and you'll be mesmerized by his thoughts and diction... a superb English writer." I wonder if it's still true. One thing's for sure though, I would hate to see such a statement go to waste.
I took up Communication in college. There, I found some people who appreciated my works and soon enough, I had a brief stint in the official school paper, where I learned more about feature writing and journalism. I also got heartbroken and started to pour my thoughts in a personal blog until I got tired of it.
I eventually found myself in the journalism field, where I learned that writing is a responsibility. It's a continuous learning experience that I actually value and regard with respect (which is why I don't often put too much work-related stuff here).
But what bothers me is how I have been scampering for ideas when I try to write something personal, an entirely different spectrum from creatively thinking of angles for work purposes. This is the reason why I thought that maybe I was better in my younger years, that time when personal ideas just flowed endlessly and words and observations just came more effortlessly in an organic manner. Each time I would watch Sex And The City reruns, I couldn't help but wish I had Carrie's guts.
And I had a thought. Maybe I do have a Carrie Bradshaw inside me but I just don't know how I would exactly pull it off.
It occurred to me that I should learn to be less fearful of the uncertain if I want to find once again the personal writing voice I possessed during my teenage years (or even a better rendition of that). After all, life is indeed a bed of roses... with thorns. If I'm capable of embracing professional learning opportunities, I should be able to do the same for my personal life right? Instead of just thinking sporadic thoughts (or doing too much of it), it is time to take some action too. Little by little steps of courage and faith, I suppose.
If I'm not mistaken, one's 20s should be an exciting and fabulous phase as this is the period where one supposedly learns life's lessons fully, as one is not sheltered safely anymore in the confines of the academe. Here, I guess we try to get our act and traction together in dealing with life's ups and downs so that when we get into our 30s or 40s, we can safely say that we've been there and done this and that. They do say that youth is wasted on the young. I am in my early 20s and I should live life, as simple as that. And hopefully, by trying to be fearless in navigating through whatever situation there is, I may be able to say one day that I finally found what I've been looking for, or even a better one than expected.
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