Yusaku Godai... A Moment's Madness...

Keeping The Beat Alive Part 2: The Two Trying-Hards and The Battle of the Bands

2005-04-28T00:21:00.000-07:00

Still, I was in a quandary, for in my wish to have my own band, I had to scour for others to complete a decent lineup. I couldn’t imagine playing all by myself (that would be utterly daft and incredulous, not to mention downright embarrassing). I was also not yet particular on what kind of music I wanted to play, but I knew the urge was there to have a band. So I tried to continue jamming with my pals, but eventually, getting nowhere with what we were playing. It seemed that they had just a trivial interest on the band thing, and I was still yearning for more than just fooling around with the instruments.

Then one day, Jojo, who was the bass player and a childhood friend of mine, lent me a cassette tape of a band he really fancied. It was Nirvana’s Nevermind LP, and he told me that it was an amazing album. And as soon as I put it on my brother’s stereo component (I didn’t have my own then) and heard the first track (which was the infamous “Smells Like Teen Spirit”), I was totally blown away. BLAM! The floodgates suddenly opened out of nowhere. Right then and there I told myself that I wanted to have a band playing that kind of kick-ass music. I immediately went to Jojo the next day to reveal my newly found euphoria, and he told me that he knew someone who could probably share my blissful Nirvana experience. I insisted on knowing that someone and, at once, he hooked me up with an acquaintance named Chris. He was into Nirvana and was also a good guitar player. After a couple of times hanging out together and professing our fondness for Nirvana, the three of us ended up forming a band, sloppily and shamelessly jamming out various Nirvana songs like “Breed”, “In Bloom”, “Come As You Are”, “Love Buzz”, “Lithium”, and “Territorial Pissings”. We tried hard to ape Nirvana (pun not intended) with Chris on guitars and reluctant vocals, Jojo on bass, and me on drums. I was really banging the shit out of the kit, imagining being Dave Grohl (Nirvana’s drummer extraordinaire) and having the best time of my life. But though it appeared to be an absolute thing already, the band (which hadn’t named yet) eventually broke up because Jojo wasn’t really determined to play (choosing to join his other pals in indulging their drag car and scooter races). Chris and I had no choice but to continue on and started to look for a new bass player.

After a few weeks, Chris enlisted his cousin Jeff to do the vocal duties, and another acquaintance named Luther to man the bass. We jammed a few times, doing a variety of covers, but mostly sticking with Wolfgang songs because Jeff’s voice was quite similar to Basti Artadi’s raspy wails. We had our first gig at a birthday party for Luther’s cousin, and like all band’s first gigs, we sucked. After playing a grand total of three songs (Rivermaya’s “Kisapmata”, Wolfgang’s “Halik Ni Hudas” and “Darkness Fell”), we were grasping for other tunes to play. We either ended up doing short pieces of songs or long noise jams (with me still beating the hell out of the poor silver drumkit). It was mortifying, to say the least. Subsequently, the band didn’t last long as Jeff left to migrate to Florida and Luther lost his desire to play. Chris and I were again groping in the dark. We persisted on forming yet another band, continuously searching for at least a bassist. But alas, after weeks of looking, we couldn’t find anybody. The two of us would just jam at a shoddy studio (owned by Ka Rolly, a former Maria Cafra drummer), which had a double bass drum kit (but had only one playable bass drum and dextrose poles as makeshift cymbal stands). There were countless times when I broke something on the ragtag kit, whether it was the tom drumheads, the bass pedal, or the already cracked cymbals. I was then into my full Dave Grohl mode, which meant, “hit as hard as you can”. I would watch Chris just shake his head in utter disbelief and complain that his ears hurt because of the volume of the drums. But I didn’t care, maybe because I was desperate to play. Or maybe because I knew it may be my last time to play. I was aware that we were still going nowhere and that we would never have a decent band.

As I went back into the seminary during my third year high school, I found myself excited on the prospect of being included in the seminary band because aside from having a seemingly substantial amount of “experience” as a drummer, my classmate who drummed in the band suddenly wanted to play the lead guitar (the erstwhile lead guitarist was kicked out because of academic problems). I thought I would be the one who would replace him. Unfortunately, the remaining band members chose another one, a second year guy who they felt was more able. I was really disappointed since I lost the chance to play the drums in the seminary. And so every time the band would play, I felt envious. But I realized that since I was into a heavier kind of music, I would never get the opportunity to join them anyway (sourgraping!). As the year passed by, I just hung out with Chris during my short vacations and continued playing Nirvana, Smashing Pumpkins, and other grunge tunes. I was also the time when I started my musical odyssey, listening to every bit of rock, punk, indie, alternative, and metal bands like Black Sabbath, Megadeth, Soundgarden, Pavement, Mudhoney, Pearl Jam, Oasis, Presidents of the United States of America, Alanis Morrisette, Beastie Boys, Ash, Teeth, The Youth, White Zombie, Metallica, Silverchair, Green Day, Gin Blossoms, Foo Fighters, and Bush (just to name quite a few…). Then, when I reached my fourth year in high school, I was surprised on being the drummer for the seminary band (this was after most of the former band members either graduated or were kicked out…lucky me, huh?). Still, I made the most out of it and I got to play on the various programs within the school year.

Following my graduation from high school, I entered the college seminary. Since I knew there was also a college band, I was eager to join it. However, there was still an incumbent drummer (who was a bit of a selfish SOB), so I didn’t bother on auditioning anymore. I just made myself content on jamming with Chris during weekends, yet again trying to form our own band. I had a startling break on my second year, as some my classmates (who were competent musicians) wanted to form a band from our class. We eventually created a 6-piece band (a vocalist, 3 guitarists, a keyboardist, and a drummer) and we performed at a Family Day program. Although it was short-lived, I still had the chance to practice my “chops” in a different kind of music (mostly new wave and radio-friendly alternative rock music).

It was also the time when the so-called rap metal rage was brewing. I bought a copy of Korn’s second LP, Life is Peachy, and while most of the folks were either into boy bands or pseudo-grunge/alternative rock, I was discovering the groove-laden, rap-driven, and chord-twisted sounds of Korn, Limp Bizkit, and Coal Chamber. And because I was more of a “meat and potatoes” kind of drummer, I gradually became fond of pounding out bouncing grooves which Chris found smashing. Although it was also a bit of a stretch since some of the drum parts were too technical and hard for me, I persevered in learning some of it through constant air drumming with the songs. And one day, Chris told me he knew of a potential vocalist who liked the new sounds that we were digging into. He introduced me to RV, who to my surprised recognition was an elementary classmate of mine. We hit it off immediately and began to listen to various “nü-metal” tunes while hanging out and drinking beer or gin. We knew we wanted to form a band with riff-crazy and backbeat-heavy tunes, but we still need a decent bassist. So, I enlisted a guy named Brian, who was an amazing bass player (slapping and funky notes included) and a seminarian (a year behind me). I also got to enlist 2 additional guitarists: Anthony, a former bass player who played amazing lead guitar licks, and Ed, a projected keyboardist who eventually chose to play guitars. After much ado and familiarization, we all jammed together in a modest studio in Malolos, spewing out covers of Limp Bizkit’s “Faith” and “Jump Around”, Korn’s “Freak On A Leash”, and Sandwich’s “Butterfly Carnival” and “Maybe”. We felt a really good vibe while jamming that we felt we were already set as a band (naming ourselves Sinister Karma, which I duly suggested) and we decided to join an upcoming Battle of the Bands at a nearby town. I was a bit nervous and anxious though. Although I had watched a couple of those band competitions, it was my first time to actually participate in those types of production. I felt my playing would be scrutinized and, knowing that I was an unschooled drummer, I would be laughed at by other seasoned drummers. Nevertheless, I just thought of playing, having fun, and letting the music speak for itself. We practiced hard almost every other day (which was stressful both physically and financially). When the appointed day came, we were very frenzied performing on such a big event (even if the crowd in attendance were mostly old people just curious to see an organized event in their “backwater” barrio). As we were almost at the bottom of the list of bands to perform, we got to watch other bands play. We immediately noticed that most of them played radio-friendly or über-technical tunes that showcased their musical abilities to the fullest while entertaining the crowd and judges. We knew we were roast beef, but we still waited for our turn, hoping to at least perform in front of a decent crowd (well, it was a loooong wait for sure… from 9pm to 2am!). When our turn came, we expected a passable performance at the least. Instead, we bombed. Guitar mistakes here and there, an overzealous stage presence, an imbalance sound, and a shaky drumming all contributed to a frantic two-song tornado that blew everyone away (as in everyone seemed to move as far away from us as possible). It was disappointing. But even if we were sort of disheartened after that event, we still wanted to try another shot. And we did have another shot.

A year and much practice later, we were able to join another Battle of the Bands. This time, there were only the four of us left (Chris, RV, Anthony, and me) because the other two members were not available anymore due to various “extracurricular” commitments. Chris was forced to man the bass, and we thought we could either have a repeat of last year’s disgrace or have a respectable showing. But then, after a blazing and honest round of Korn’s “Falling Away From Me” and “Freak On A Leash”, and Limp Bizkit’s “Nookie” and “Faith”, we were dumbfounded to learn that we won the third prize! It was a big surprise for us, considering that we had a depleted lineup and a pessimistic view of the whole competition process. Maybe because we were more confident this time around, that our sound and performance duly improved. Later, we went home a few bucks (read: Php500) richer and a lot of dreams bigger. I knew that I needed to improve my drumming further so that we could eventually progress from doing covers to making our own songs.

(to be continued…)

[Note: I know, I know… you’re wondering why it’s not yet finished. It is simply because the entry became a bit lengthier than what I initially expected it to be. It has become a three-part entry, I guess. I duly apologize for it, and I thank your never-ending patience to actually still read this seemingly irrelevant and worthless piece… it may serve a certain purpose, for all you know. Please, please do wait for the final installment Thanks!—Yusaku Godai]

Keeping The Beat Alive Part 1: The Beginning and the Fellowship of the Wannabes

2005-04-15T00:10:00.000-07:00

[Note: This is a three-part entry, wherein the author tries to trace his passion and love for drums and drumming that already spans for 10 years. The author only asks for patience from the reader, as payment for the effort of culling and organizing this descriptive phenomenon, for as a certain cliché goes, “Patience is a virtue”. Here is the first of three parts.]

I remembered the first musical instrument that I had: it was an Ovation acoustic guitar that I bought with my dad in the outskirts of Recto. I persuaded my dad to buy it for me because I wanted to learn how to play the guitar. Knowing it was a remote possibility considering my dad was a very stingy person when it comes to buying “luxuries”, I was really surprised when he suddenly drew out his wallet and gave me some cash to pay for the guitar. I also bought a leather case and some picks to complete my musical “arsenal”. It was then my first year in high school at a minor seminary in Bulacan and I totally envied the older seminarians when they played guitars during our daily masses or during our family nights (social programs). The way they seemed to coax beautiful and stirring melodies from those wooden string instruments bewildered me. So when I got my own guitar, I wanted to learn to play like them, perusing over the chord charts and straining my fingers until I had gotten the notes and chords right. I was determined to play even just only the song “More Than Words” by Extreme, which was the current rave then. But alas, all I ended up knowing were a few basic chords and I eventually swapped my guitar for a pair of baggy corduroy jeans because I preferred to continue as a “hip-hop” dancer instead. I felt that I couldn’t really become skilled at playing any musical instrument, and that I had to settle for just being a kibitzer.

After a year, I was still dabbling into hip-hop and dance music, joining my other classmates in dancing during various programs and competitions. However, since our school once had an amazing band, Sine Nomine (which played mostly covers of The Dawn, The Cure, and other New Wave bands), most of the higher years also had their own band. Not to be outdone, some of my classmates started forming a band, too, which played covers of Guns N’ Roses, Metallica, Eraserheads, and other rock and alternative acts. Though I wasn’t into rock music then, I usually found myself watching them when they held their practice in our classroom. I would join my other classmates in nodding our heads as we relished every song they played. And as I continued watching more and more, I found myself drawn into the beats and movements made by the drummer. He really seemed to be having such fun bashing the daylights out of the red drumkit and his energetic pounding drove the whole song into a rhythmic frenzy. I was in total awe of that moment. But I knew that I couldn’t possibly learn how to play the drums because I thought it was a grueling process of comprehending the beats and rhythms. I was resigned to being just a modest dancer, I said to myself.

When our summer vacation came that year, I was back to my routine R&Rs: basketball, malling, sleeping, pigging-out, and gimmicks. Being inside the seminary denied me of all the perks of the outside world, so I tried to indulge in having fun most of the time. I went and visited most of my friends, and sought to find something worthwhile to do with them. Then one time, while I was attending the graduation ceremony of my elementary alma mater, one of my friends invited me to join in their jam session at a nearby studio. I asked him if I was going to just watch them play, and he told me that I could also play if wanted to. So I went with him and his pals to a cheap practice studio, assuming that I would either just watch them play or tinker around a bit with the guitars. When we arrived at the studio (which was actually a small foyer of a house), my friend and his pals started to play right away. I noticed that they were all just novices because they had some difficulty in continuing or finishing the songs (not to mention that they were using crappy pieces of equipment). Then all of a sudden, I was stunned when my friend, who was manning the guitars, asked me if I wanted to try playing the drums because the drummer had to go for an errand. I was a bit hesitant at first, but I thought this was my chance to play the drums. I slowly went behind the red worn-out drumkit, sat down, and picked up the cheap set of drumsticks. My friend then asked me if I knew the song “Zombie” by The Cranberries, and I told him that I was quite familiar with it (who wasn’t? it was all over the airwaves then). And so, my friend started playing the opening chords to the song, anticipating I would be competent enough. I became really nervous, as gallons of sweat began to pour down from my head, hands, and everywhere else in my body. But then, while I tried to recall the drum parts in my mind, I just gave it a go. It was a bit awkward at first because I had no coordination at all with the beat. I was struggling to just imitate the parts as I imagined it to be, breaking it down into the hi-hat, snare, and bass drum components. The end result was a grossly despicable wannabe performance at best. Nonetheless, I was quite thrilled with the experience. It was as if I discovered a gold mine under our own backyard. Eureka! My friend just scratched his head in bewilderment.

After that fateful jam session, I knew I wanted to play drums. Or, to be more circumspect, I had to play the drums. It wasn’t about being able to grasp and master the instrument, but rather, about being able to play it within a band and having fun.

(to be continued…)

Give Me That Pigskin!!!

2005-03-27T01:19:00.000-08:00

I’m not you average, run-in-the-mill, jock type of guy. But don’t get me wrong because I do like sports.

My first love was basketball. I’ve been playing that game since kindergarten (I could barely dribble the ball then, and yet I was trying to shoot from the three point area). And after playing the game so many times while imagining myself being Anfernee “Penny” Hardaway, I suddenly lost interest in the game itself. Not that it really sucked, but I thought basketball was just too familiar a sport for me to really get so excited anymore. I mean, shooting the ball, playing nasty defense, and showing off those nifty dribbling skills became soooo boring for me. I had to find another exciting avenue for my competitive nature, either as a participant or as an enthusiast.

Then came that fateful day.

I was hanging out at my friend’s house, trying to wile away some time. Luckily, he had cable TV so I indulged myself into a frantic channel surfing. There was the usual flurry of programs like documentaries, news, fashion shows, B-movies, and silly commentaries on most of the channels. But then, when I tuned into ESPN, I was surprised to catch an NFL (it’s National Football League for all you poor, clueless souls!) game between the Kansas City Chiefs and Buffalo Bills. I quickly became interested, because it was my first time to watch an NFL game. I was an avid San Francisco 49ers fan at an early age because my older brother had all these football magazines and I grew up fantasizing to be quarterbacks Joe Montana and Steve Young. I never really had the chance to actually know how the game was played, I only knew that you had to score points by going past the end zone line (it’s called a touchdown, nitwit!) either by throwing an odd-shaped football to a receiver or by running with it. So after watching the Chiefs vs. Bills game, I was so enthralled with all the plays that were executed by both teams, with the physical nature of competing, and with those cool fiberglass helmets they use, that I kept on raving about it to my disinterested (and seemingly annoyed) friend. I went home feeling a bit enthused. I knew it was the start of something fascinating.

I was still taking up some computer short courses at Informatics, SM North EDSA at that time, when I thought of going to a nearby game shop to check out if there was an NFL software game available. And, lo and behold, there was a certain Madden NFL 2004 game available indeed! I immediately bought it (at 200 bucks, it was a bit cheap) and proceeded to install it in my PC (personal computer, chona-blogspotters!). At first I was so dumbfounded trying to figure the hell out of the rules and gameplay that I wasn’t really able to enjoy much. However, as I practiced a few select plays, I found myself playing long hours and intermittently shouting “Touchdown!” whenever I would score (which would then duly disturb my sleeping mom and yell “Tama na yan!” at me). I didn’t realize that I was slowly getting obsessed with the game, even buying a “Football for Dummies” book! (Well, I thought if was going to be a fan of the game then I should better be damn prepared, right?) I also tried following the real NFL games through their website (NFL.com), rooting for the 49ers. Still, I wasn’t truly satisfied with what I had so far. I really wanted to catch the games on TV but it was so sad to know that I could only watch it through cable TV. It was also depressing not to have anybody whom I could have a decent conversation about football. (I guess most people have been missing a lot out of life, huh?) Then it came. My mom got a cable TV for us and I was just purely ecstatic. I was able to catch the middle part of the season (NFL season runs from August to February, FYI), and dutifully woke up on early mornings just to catch the live broadcasts. I would dissect every play, analyze every formation, digest every statistic, and argue with every comment by the so-called analysts. I was like, to use football-speak, “sitting in the pocket all day and throwing deep balls to the wide outs.” (Which meant I was really comfortable and happy with everything that was happening…or something like that, I suppose.)

So after all that mumbo-jumbo and crazy, nonsensical ravings, you ask--“what is really up with that football-madness?”

Well, to tell you the truth, I don’t exactly know why I’m so into American Football. Maybe I’ll just give you some of my reasons by comparing it to two other popular sports, basketball and soccer…

It may be because of the gameplay. Unlike basketball, wherein everyone scores a point almost every possession, football is a game of field position and strategy as much as it is just a scoring game. But unlike soccer, wherein everyone seems to hate scoring a point, football has many ways in order to score, with utmost tenacity of course.

It may be because of the unique display of athleticism. In basketball, you tend to see the high-flying dunks, the ankle-breaking dribble moves, and the “threading-the-needle” passes. In soccer, you tend to see the spectacular footwork, the ingenious ball tricks, and the “I’m-going-make-the-goalkeeper-look-like-a-lame-duck” goal kicks. But in football, you basically see a plethora of highlight action in almost every play of a game: the doomsday rush of gigantic defensive linemen vs. the blocking wall of mammoth offensive linemen, the subsonic sprint of the wide outs vs. the “bump n’ run” tactics of the defensive backs, and the gunslinger release of the quarterback vs. the outstretch arms of the linebackers. (This is aside from the Sportcenter highlights of game-winning catches and runs, career-ending tackles, and Michael Vick’s inhuman abilities.)

It may be because of the brief schedule. In basketball, particularly the NBA (you know what this acronym means, right? Negro Basketball Aerials), a team has 82 regular season games plus roughly 20 playoff games and a 7-game final series. (I don’t know how many preseason games are given per team, sorry.) So basically the season starts around late October to early June, and that’s almost 9 months of 48-minute games that could be so exhausting if you’re going to watch each one of them. You don’t have to worry about missing a game because there is always a game being played almost everyday, but you also get so frigging tired after watching players shoot so many times (there’s a replay game, too!). In soccer, there’s the UEFA Cup, the English Premier League, and many other tourney around the world that has so many teams playing a certain number of games (I admit not knowing any tourney format…hehehe). But basically you can have access to the games because of the countless coverage offered by some sports channels.
But in football, an NFL team has 4 preseason games in the span of 4 weeks, 16 regular season games in a span of 17 weeks (1 game per week and 1 bye week for rest), 3 possible playoff games in the span of 3 weeks, and 1 Super Bowl game to determine the champ. So it roughly has only 7 months and you only catch a game per week. It doesn’t get any precious than that, so you can really root and keep an eye on your favorite team without batting an eyelash.

But of course, you’re not interested in know all those things. I would be lucky enough if you had gone this far reading this lengthy article. (Thanks…it’s almost done…a little patience, my dear.)

There are so many other reasons why I love football, and yet the thing is, I haven’t played a single game myself. It may seem odd. Yes, it IS odd. That is why it can also be the big reason why I am so damn addicted to the sport. Not playing the game itself gave it an aura of greatness to me, saying, “You are not worthy to even tie the laces of the cleats (shoes), you are just there to be a spectator.”

So there, I’m not a football player, never was, and never will be. But if I’m going to be a couch-footballer forever, I’ll be a goddamn great couch-footballer. Not some wise-ass football heretic who did that dimwitted and shameless NFL AFC playoff analysis on Studio 23’s sports show last January. Shame on you! Give me that fucking pigskin!!!!

[Note: My apologies for a very long entry…it seems to have taken a life of its own while I was writing it…FYI, I am into the AFC divisional playoffs of my 2nd season of the Madden NFL 2005 Franchise mode using the Pittsburgh “Blitzburgh” Steelers… anyone who is interested in American Football or NFL can leave me a message…yes, we are few but we are the ones blessed to be cool…-yusaku godai]

Not Waking Up...

2005-03-25T08:55:00.000-08:00

I swore I was just dreaming.

There I was, a rejuvenated consciousness, having just emerged from a self-made cocoon that gave me a brief period of respite. I knew that most of those who considered me their friend or acquaintance were either bewildered or exasperated by my sudden disappearing and reappearing act (David Blaine wannabe, anyone?). But then, I wasn’t keen on presenting any plausible explanation to them. I was just hoping to immediately reconnect myself to them and the world I selfishly abandoned (lectures, hatred, and gunfire be damned). I felt like I was ready for anything, even a new job that I instantly applied for. However, there was still this nagging source of contention that evaded my earnest self-reconfiguration—the memories of the past. I tried hard to contain it within the acceptable levels because I knew it almost took my existence not so long ago. And yet even after so many times, I was still barely succeeding.

There she was, a disenchanted princess, having a life of her own and trying hard to forget the misery that I gave her just a few months ago. It was just an ordinary invitation. I thought it was time for me to rebuild whatever bond we had, if she gave me a chance. But I got far more than what I asked for, for it came to happen. I was never prepared for the consequences. I wasn’t even able to think (and I thought I was smart). All I did was to stare blankly into a swirling void. There were so many things to consider, so many variables to look into, and yet I made my first decision amidst it. It wasn’t the perfect situation but the first thing that came into my mind after the initial shock was, it was a blessing and I was going to accept the responsibility for it. My next decision was an even greater thing. I was going to love her, for better or for worse. It felt strange, not because I didn’t want it, but because I wasn’t afraid anymore. And I was also happy. It seemed like one minute I was staring at my past with the rewind button, and the next minute I was looking into the future with the fast-forward button.

I swore I was just dreaming.

Maybe I was, but I felt like not waking up from it.

In A Nutshell

2005-01-22T23:52:00.000-08:00

1999. 18 years old. A wild-eyed teen that has been dabbling in various forms of pseudo-happiness: crazy devotion to basketball, discovery of new school rock bands, ardent desire to form a decent band, introduction to medieval and modern philosophers (Augustine, Aquinas, Descartes, Hume, Kant, Hegel, and Schopenhauer), and constant interactions with many persons, whether for pleasure or for intimacy. Experienced some sort of boredom from being single, then meeting someone who was deemed worth the risk. Jumped into the fire that is called relationship. Transformed into a love-stricken guy who started to learn the bliss of having someone to love. Desperately wanted to flee into the outside world, away from the confines of the seminary.

2000. 19 years old. A focused and rambunctious teen that continued to explore his chosen endeavors, albeit, in a more restrained ardor. Deflowered into the realm of Existential Phenomenology, thereby delving into the thoughts of Edmund Husserl, Martin Heidegger, Jean-Paul Sartre, and Monsieur Maurice Merleau-Ponty. Together with a long-time guitar-playing pal, found an enthusiastic singer and enlisted a willing bass player to complete the band, playing mostly decent cover songs of KoRn, Limp Bizkit, sandwich, and deftones during battle-of-the-bands. Learned the ropes of maintaining a healthy relationship, coming across various things: being “cheated”, having to put up your guard, compromising certain things, and finding ways to be über-romantic and exciting. Went through an agonizing time of being “dumped”. Traveled briefly into the region of depression.

2001. 20 years old. A very passionate guy that seemed to have acquired a certain need for meaningful direction in his life, due to his imminent graduation out of college. Briefly traversed the thoughts of Karl Marx but then continued his intellectual lust for Merleau-Ponty, totally despising Descartes. Made some academic progress yet became critical and opinionated because of the disillusionment towards conventional thought. Sporadically gave attention to the band, not having any interest in doing covers anymore. Was given a new lease in life by being back together again with erstwhile girlfriend. Graduated without any fanfare and proceeded to look for a job. Found a very decent work as a junior sales trainer in a life insurance company. Rode an unimaginable wave of euphoria, having thought of achieving such amount of happiness directly associated with a flourishing relationship and a good career. Had the happiest Christmas by spending it with his girlfriend.

2002. 21 years old. A person finding himself thoroughly content and satisfied with his life, trying to maintain everything to a pleasing level. Exchanged the sphere of philosophical intellectualism with insurance and marketing concepts, gobbling down information with a degree of detachment. Was having some difficulty with the relationship, on a constant threat on dissolving because of changing attitude by the girlfriend. Was devastated on being told of breaking up more than 3 years of relationship, apparently because of “having lost the feeling anymore, wanting to be free, and having a new life”. (Of course, this was done after months of her already predetermined decision, and finished academic requirements) Tried to work things out again, believing it was just a passing fancy. Ended the year writing some songs and spending the dreariest Christmas—alone.

2003. 22 years old. A broken person who suddenly lost every ounce of willpower to engage in any form of activity. Was trying to desperately cling to a sliver of hope to win the girl back, but was repeatedly and straightforwardly turned down. Tried to recover by immersing in work and in writing. Resigned from the company due to lack of motivation and ability to continue working. Entered the realm of depression and disenchantment, drowning in vices and wallowing in self-pity. Tried to recuperate by actively participating in the band, having a new bass player and agreeing to make songs, by writing most of the lyrics culled from the abyss of love lost and looking up to A Perfect Circle as gods. Learned that the former girlfriend decided to have a new guy, thereby causing an awful, near-death decision. Became more of a recluse, opting to shun contact from everyone. Discovered Neon Genesis Evangelion, Maison Ikkoku and Madden NFL 2004, which spurned a renewed sense of being. Sought out new endeavors like studying computer applications at Informatics and TESL at De La Salle University in order to re-organize everything. Another Christmas was spent alone.

2004. 23 years old. A truly jaded, sarcastic, and wary person who wanted to have some sort of escape from the past through indulging in a cornucopia of interests: joining a chatroom (#RX931) and actively engaging in their gimmicks, making more new songs in the band, and playing Madden NFL 2004 everyday. Met many new friends through the RX chat, which led to innumerable trips to Sidebar Ortigas. Tried to find a new job, and eventually ended up as a medical representative in a multi-national ophthalmic company, through the efforts of my former girlfriend’s brother. Was lucky enough to get in as a probationary employee, and was given a car. Struggled to adjust to the rigors of the job, had to contend with seeing the former girlfriend every week due to having the same line of work and area. Figured in an accident when suddenly fell asleep behind the wheel on the way home. Held up by two unidentified men at the FX terminal in SM City, losing a fair amount of cash and an expensive cellular phone. Asked to resign after 4 months because the management decided it was consequentially necessary. Resorted to concentrating on the band, naming it Belvedere. Spent most of the time with the RX chat friends, eventually developing a close relationship with one of them. Tried to jump again into the fire by committing to her, but after some time, decided it was far too overwhelming and couldn’t keep up with the flow of the relationship. Joined her into a newly formed events company that went awry because of conflicting members. Spent another Christmas alone.

2005. Turning 24 in a couple of days. A semi-distraught individual still looking for a new lease in life and searching for a decent job in order to escape being a lesser citizen. Sometimes is bothered by past failures and future challenges. Just hoping everything would turn out better. Wishing maybe this year to claim a rightful place into the world of happy and wonderful things.

Misunderstanding Me

2005-01-16T06:21:00.000-08:00

It was just a case of misunderstanding, for all it was worth.
I was misunderstood by her, by others, and heck, even by myself.
Why?
After several reflections and introspections, I have finally found some probable answers to the questions that hounded me up to now. Please let me have the pleasure of explaining them…

First, she misunderstood me. She, in this case, was someone whom I truly loved in my life. I never did believe in that “fairy tale” conception of falling deeply in love until I had come to know her. Hell, I couldn’t even truly describe why I loved her. It was really incomprehensible to my mind, but my heart understood everything. I was swept away by the waves of something inexplicably beautiful. And I was damn sure that I would give my best. Unfortunately, as there were two sides to a coin, so were there also two sides of my seemingly wonderful relationship. Whereas I knew I was trying to care and be concerned for her, it was misunderstood as being super-possessive. Whereas I knew I really like to help and pamper her, it was misunderstood as making her dependent on me. Whereas I knew I was so afraid of losing her, it was, misunderstood as jealousy. And whereas I knew deep in my heart, that I love her for who she was and what she has been to me, it was misunderstood as an obsession. Well maybe I’m just not perfect, and maybe it was mostly my fault for trying too much to love her. I had never loved someone that much, and it was not something I intended on just doing for the fun of it. But she definitely misunderstood everything…and that’s why everything was gone in an instant. I don’t blame her for her decision, I have not been a good guy I guess, and she deserved far greater things in life than me. I have looked back on what I had been to her, and I noticed I wasn’t making her happy anymore because I had so many things lacking and only so little things to offer. It was indeed a tragedy of my own making.

Second, others misunderstood me. They were the ones who thought that I was being foolish with my actions and with my life. Maybe they thought that I had everything going good in my life and I was wasting it away with my stupid ways. I guess that’s because they’ve been expecting too much from me, thinking I was someone brilliant and great. But they don’t know that I’ve been in such mess that I could even see straight. All the hurt and pain that I was carrying took a toll on me. I didn’t want to miserable, but maybe I’m just a magnet of disaster. I admit I am guilty of low self-esteem. However, if they had been in my shoes, I doubt they would even manage to show a weak smile. I was just fed up with what I was going through, that I wanted to end everything. I won’t justify my actions, because no one will understand. Yet, it was not a “tendency”, as many believed it was. It was just something borne out of deep frustration and immediate escapism, and not a psychotic fancy. Hell, I didn’t really want to do it…it just came to me as my world seem to fall apart. And after that, I have learned many things, which I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t done it. Still, they misunderstood me as a basket case. I don’t blame them for they also have a different view of things and they don’t know rat shit about me at all. For all I know, I have already overachieved by loving someone. I don’t care now if the shit continues to hit the fan or not.

Third, but not the least, I misunderstood myself. I had seemed to construct a very ideal world for me to exist. A happy and vibrant life, a good career, an exciting bunch of people around me, and the girl that I love…. that was what I dreamed of. That was what I built and constructed. But dreams are not real, and I was painfully awakened by a slap in the face. I didn’t know life could be harsh and unfair, a career could be very stressful, people could be deceiving, and love could be superficial. I was left to ponder what else could I ever believe to be something of true worth anymore. I have been “too kind” and positive in my life, that I never noticed the ills of this mundane generation. In short, I was too idealistic. And it cost me everything now. I only blame myself for what I have become. I fell into a series of traps that were obviously awaiting me. Nevertheless, my predicament was not pitiful but just a matter-of-factly phenomenon. It was what it was.

So after sorting everything out, I guess a very interesting question appears now at hand—“What now?” Or to be more circumspect, “What will I do now?”… Honestly, I have no idea. I’m still trying to get my life back, or what it seems to be something like it. I just seem to know now that life never really has a happy ending or a happily-ever-after kind of crap. There’s so much irony around us that I have given up hoping for the best. I just try to get by somehow by “grinning and bearing” everything. As much as I want to, miracles don’t work anymore and the only beautiful thing in my life has become a far, fleeting fantasy. Talk about life so candidly sweet and sour. I hope I would be understood this time.

[Note: I wrote this piece some time ago, maybe around late 2003 to early 2004…I couldn’t remember anymore. I just found this draft after sorting through my things. It is quite simplistic and rambles a lot… I tried to preserve everything in order to have a pseudo-journal feel. I think I was dabbling here on the concept of “bipolar phenomenology”, the approach of French Philosopher Maurice Merleau-Ponty, which seeks to capture both subjectivity and intersubjectivity that find their unity when I take up my past experiences in those of the present. In any case, I hope it may serve a certain purpose. Enjoy! —Yusaku Godai]

A Homecoming of Sorts...

2004-12-10T22:55:00.000-08:00

As I walked towards a familiar sight, I knew it was going to be a good day. Almost a year has past since I last came back to this place, but it seemed only like it was yesterday. The lobby was bustling with different people—some I knew, some I didn’t. Well, I wasn’t expecting any sort of grand welcome to my arrival. I was just glad to come back again and celebrate the past with my fellow batch mates of ICS Minor.

I quickly looked for the more proverbial faces I wanted to see. After an almost eternity of searching around the vicinity, I saw them. There was no slow motion or dramatic effect to our encounter; it was just casual hellos and jovial cajoling. It was good to be together again.

There were a lot of catching up to do for the time lost: stories passed back and forth, achievements and accomplishments admired, erstwhile gags and pranks revisited, and even past failures comforted. Every one else seemed to reconnect themselves with the various experiences that occurred during the heydays of our existence in what has been our second home. It was indeed a time of fun and adventure.

But before we truly engaged ourselves into a time warp, we decided to indulge in our favorite pastime: basketball. It was a no-brainer to even ask why we love to play the game. It was more than just a recreational activity; it was a way of life for us back then. It didn’t matter if you’re not an exceptional player; the game itself was not built on victory (although, for me, losing is a bitter pill to swallow), but more on your participation. And it was also good to see those who truly excelled in playing the game, those whom you somehow admired for being so damn good.

Afterwards, it was what everybody really came there for: the fellowship night. The event itself was a symbolic rite of passage—we were the little, wild-eyed boys who served food and beverages then to those seemingly untouchable people, and now, we were the ones on the other side of the fence, being served by a new generation of weary kids wanting to finish up this event so that they can rest after many days of preparing and God-knows-what kind of physical stress they had. Yet there was no immense compassion from us, not because we didn’t care, but because we knew that it was borne out of years of tradition.

Meanwhile, the program rendered everybody the chance to continue with the travails to their colorful past. Our batch has its own exhilarating stories that each one of us hasn’t grown tired of listening and telling. Every blunder (skipping the review class for NSAT because we overslept), every escapade (the drinking debauchery in Malolos), every bad experience (the countless “vigils” and punishments), every accomplishment (the tribal dance for the cultural night), every exploit (the innumerable times we try to cheat on our exams), and every pleasure (our Tagaytay retreat-slash-boys’ night out) were duly recounted over bottles of beer and petite pseudo-sisig.

We were also fortunate enough to be treated to a bandfest, a staple of the seminary, because there were only two things you could find yourself being connected to: either a dance group or a band (I was lucky enough to have done both things). From the minor seminary band that listlessly and shamelessly played covers of Rivermaya’s Liwanag sa Dilim, and Sandwich’s Two Trick Pony, to the spectacular performance of Sine Nomine band (the much-lauded seminary band of yore) that played rousing covers of Tears For Fears’ Everybody Wants to Rule the World, Verve Pipes’ The Freshmen, and Incubus’ Drive, it was just like a huge family night all over again. I also surprisingly got the chance to play drums for a jerry-built band during a free jam session later through the night. From a disappointing cover of Matchbox 20’s Push, to an eerie rendition of Radiohead’s Creep, to an almost ethereal cover of Pepe Smith’s Ang Himig Natin (a song of anthemic status played religiously every year) played by none other than Mr. Moy, the immortal guitar guru/alumnus, together with Mr. Omar Roque’s semi-drunk crooning. I was in total awe of the whole experience because of the magnitude of the people I was playing with, absolute legends in the alumni community. It was like playing drums for Led Zeppelin or the Jimi Hendrix Experience.

Nevertheless, like the program itself, the night must end as well. We were all semi-intoxicated and quite delighted with the whole shebang. Although our group still had its nightcap at a nearby StarMart (still wanting to stall the goodbyes with more alcohol), we knew that it was time to yet again return to our present lives and wait for another year to relive the good times we had inside the minor seminary during our high school years. Maybe we have our own reasons for finding warmth and joy during our 4-year stay, but I could only surmise one fact: that those 4 years had been a time of becoming and knowing more about ourselves (on what we could and couldn’t do) and the world around us. It was a good day indeed.

“Seminaryo minor, Immaculada Conception
Tahanan ng kabataang, may dakilang nilalayon
Butil ng pananalig, dito yumayabong
Ang pag-asa’t pagmamahal, namumunga nag-uusbong…”
--Himig ICS

Stages to Waking...

2004-11-01T19:54:00.000-08:00

“Ughh…hmmm…”

The cool morning air touches me like a gentle hand, slowly dragging me to be half-awake. My ears barely hear the endless churning of vehicles passing by the road below. My eyes feebly discern a cornucopia of blur around the room. My mouth feels dry and I smell nothing unusual except a faint whiff of cigarette smoke from the night before.

“Ohhh…uhmm…”

I feel my body recoil from the numbness of lying down for an indefinite amount of time. My movements seem restrained and mechanical. I struggle to sit myself up from my bed, ignoring the temptation to snooze some more. The plain sheets are scattered and in disarray. My feet finally find themselves reaching for the wooden floor. There is a certain amount coldness that is transmitted from my feet to my brain.

“Hwmm…hooo…”

I let out a subtle yawn as a battle cry to an unknown fight ahead. The blur around me gradually cleared into various shapes and figures that I can distinguish. I calmly shake my head to remove the veil of confusion from my slumber. I find my mind grasping for something. A sudden jolt hit me.

“Ahhh…grrr…”

A dream. No, it was more of a nightmare. Not again. This irascible being was ravaging my consciousness again. I swore I never wanted to be reminded of it. I was flooded with a barrage of questions and thoughts like bees randomly buzzing around me—Why? What do you really want? Why won’t you go away and leave me alone? When will you ever stop hurting me? I can’t take it anymore. Pain. Hate. Misery. Happiness. Intimacy. Broken hope. Fear. Where am I? Who are you? Trust. Deception. Betrayal. Estrangement. You are happy now, don’t fuck with my life anymore. Dissention. Deliverance. Karma. We don’t deserve each other. Why bother? Do you care? No, you don’t. I won’t let you shit on me again. Defiance. Disgust. Aversion…

“No…stop!”

My mouth came alive and channeled my sentiment right away. The ramblings faded away, as if decimated by a banshee scream. I looked around once more, confirming the plane of existence where I am. This is another vestige of a vile past still haunting me. I thought I was through with this? I hate it every time this happens. I just want it to go away. I just want to be left alone... Suddenly, I felt the warmth of the sun trying to comfort me, as though it understood what I was going through. You had enough for the time being, let it go and live on… I shelved my useless meanderings and slowly stood up.

“I am awake…”

At Fault

2004-09-02T01:59:00.000-07:00

Sometimes
I just make mistakes
That I don't even know

But then
I have to pay the price
That I won't argue

Maybe
I can't find the words
That would satisfy you

But then
I have to savor the silence
That stood before me

A Perfect Night With You

2004-09-01T08:43:00.000-07:00

I held your hand
Watched the stars
Gazed at the moon
Felt the wind blow
Wished it would never end*

*last line corrected by Kun...thanks!

Uncertainty

2004-09-01T08:40:00.000-07:00

Wait for me
To swim in your bliss
Afraid I might drown
Scared I might let you down

Help me see
The passion I miss
Afraid you may frown
Scared I may be alone

The Crisis of the Human Heart

2004-09-01T08:37:00.000-07:00

Nothing is as fragile as the human heart. It has been the source of both emotional highs and lows of human existence.

When we fall in love, our hearts flutter like newly spawned butterflies—aiming to fly and reach out to the bliss of life. However, when love leaves us, our hearts sink into oblivion like metal balls thrown into the Marianas Trench—descending fast into a lonely abyss and anonymity. Such is the contradiction brought forth by relying on our heart’s decision.

But there was a time when the purity of our intentions was spurned from the heart. Nobility, justice, honesty, and love were the idealisms that emanated from our consciousness, yet it was our hearts that resuscitated them by “humanizing” those experiences. (Humanizing is meant here to suggest the emotional fervor put into those idealisms.) A samurai’s nobility wrested not only upon his family heritage, but also upon his code of honor and dedication to his craft. An emperor’s justice depended not only upon the facts of the law, but also upon his compassion and consideration of the human condition. A merchant’s honesty was measured not only upon his fair trade of his goods, but also upon the quality and service he gives back to his buyer. And a man’s love was shown not only upon his flowery poems and letters, but also upon his painstaking and brave actions to win the heart of his beloved.

Alas, we now live in this age wherein those idealisms are devoid of clear intentions and meanings. Nobility now wrests upon those who have the money to spend on everything, even buying people’s lives and respect. Justice now depends upon those who can afford to have it, regardless of any equanimity or rights. Honesty is now measured upon those who can conceal the truth and keep secrets from being uncovered by others. And love is now shown through different forms of relations like mutual understandings, one-night stands, flings, and multiple girlfriends/boyfriends. Too much appalling it seems? Indeed it is.

What we have now is a crisis of the human heart.

Yes, we have progressed in our intellectual capacities as human beings. We have discovered many great inventions and conveniences that modernized our society. We even played “god” in many instances. And yet, after all of that advancement, we have regressed (schritt-züruch or step-back as German Philosopher Martin Heidegger would call it) in terms of values and principles. We have totally turned into cold-blooded creatures that placed more worth in mundane things like wealth, power, and ideology, discarding away our hearts, as we believe it just weakens our resolve to worldly happiness. But are we really happy being “heart-less”? I don’t think so.

I must admit I cannot give any plausible solution to this crisis. I, too, am searching for some sort of approach in order to gain the purity and innocence of my heart that was lost in this tumultuous world. But until now, I could only try to use my heart sporadically for fear of wounding it again. Nevertheless, I am in the process of risking it again because I know the only way of finding the answer is by plunging into the depths of dehumanization and using my heart again. I do hope that I can emerge from it as a less jaded person ready to embrace the idealisms of life once more.

Thus, with all the treachery, disillusionment, and hurt around us, we should know better than just being Homo sapiens with a biological heart. Let us try to use our hearts as a human person instead. Our hearts may be as fragile as glass, but it can shimmer with beauty if we want to.

A Girl Like Her

2004-08-10T14:50:00.000-07:00

I am a born romantic.

Though I never did like watching or reading many sappy or mushy stories, I believed in such cavalierly experiences of finding the girl that I would love for the rest of my life. I would definitely have no second thoughts of growing old with her.

So I closed my eyes for a moment and dreamed about my ideal girl.

First of all, she would have to be beautiful, for there should be an attraction that is physical. I usually look first at the eyes, because I like eyes that are quite mysterious yet full of eloquence. I want to be able to look at her and gaze at those windows to her soul. Then I would look at her face, which should neither be too angelic to be deceptive nor too strong to be repulsive. I also want her to be really simple in her fashion, though not sacrificing the way she would like to dress herself up. Plus, being slim to average build would be a bonus because I am extremely attracted to those types of gals. I am not that down with the chubby types since I find it quite un-sexy. But I’m not aiming either for those model types, since it would be far-fetched for me to draw their attention. I just like her to be just right, physically. Kind of being cute, pretty, and certainly exotic.

Second, she should be charming, witty, and interesting. I am a bit of a conversationalist, and I love to talk about many particular things so she should be able to hold her ground. It would be better if she were quite opinionated, since I like learning and understanding different views apart from mine. But she should also be wacky and loose in order to lighten up the mood sometimes. Having a sense of humor is definitely a plus. I find it attractive too, when she reads a lot and dabbles in the arts. It means that she has a room full of ideas and insights that I might find rather enriching. And it would be a real blessing if she plays any musical instruments. But I guess it would just be fine if she has many interests that I find fascinating like sports, music, literature, and philosophy. And it would really be great if she knows how to have some fun in many ways.

Third, she should have a wider understanding of things, meaning she should be the “been there, done that” type. Being too innocent is very scary since it entails unwanted curiosity. She should be mature enough to know that being in a relationship is not just all hanky-panky. And that she should know that having problems would mean there is room for patience, understanding, and compromise. She should be independent enough to think for her own but not too much, since she would be rebellious and sarcastic. I want her to be have an image of her own, to have an identity apart from me. But she should also have that certain sense of feminine affection to admit being helpless at times. I want her also to have a very positive outlook in life, wherein she almost always sees the bright side of things in order to weather out any storms between us.

And last, but not definitely the least, she should know what love really is. That having a boyfriend is not just a fad or an experiment. That loving should never be solely based on her feelings, but also on having that decision to commit and share her life with me. And that in her own little way, she knows how to love with all her heart and be very able to back it up with her actions. But the bottom line here is that like me, she should be a romantic person amidst the swirling disillusionment around.

Well, maybe this is really too much for me to ask or to expect from someone, but then, I think at least I know what I really want. I don’t want to settle for anything but a better girl in my life. This time, I don’t want to be just in a relationship for the sake of having one. I yearn for a more mature yet livelier partnership that I think I could handle and foster for a very long time. I’m not a hunk or a prince charming or Mr. Right, but I can say that I am someone who has what it takes to love somebody for real and for keeps. If you want more proof, I’ll send you my résumé.

But for now, I’m just looking for a girl like her. Maybe I’ll find her, maybe not.

Alone As It Gets

2004-08-09T08:11:00.000-07:00

“Humans cannot hide from loneliness forever, because they are solitary.”—A voiceover taken from Neon Genesis Evangelion: Rebirth

I became alone because of a circumstance.
But I am now alone because I chose to be.

I became so enthused with the idea of loneliness ever since I was a young chap. I remember the time when I was punished by my older brother for being a clumsy boy and he locked me up in the bathroom for almost 4 hours. At first, I kept on crying and protesting on what befell on me, but after some time, my bawling subsided and I just pondered on my loneliness. The darkness and silence became my refuge as I explored the thoughts of having nothing but myself. I longed for some company, just someone I can talk to, for I was very used to being with others, especially my friends. But then I came to savor what was happening. I daydreamed of many things, like playing basketball with my pals, talking to some cute girl, and watching some great swashbuckling film. I also thought about what I wanted when I grow up, like working for a prestigious law firm or a flourishing business enterprise. I kept on imagining things and even after I was let out of the bathroom, I was like in a trance, engrossed with my own musings. And I felt at home with my short stint at being alone and lonely.

When I was in my early teens, I entered the seminary and spent my dreary nights alone in bed. I would mull over many things, such as my impending deadlines of my papers, my gimmicks for the weekends, my musical heroes and drum parts, my plans for the future, and my longing for someone to love. Even though I was in the midst of classmates and friends, I would constantly drift to my own thoughts. I wasn’t considered an introvert, because I would be somewhere near somebody—some basketball pals, some drinking buddies, some band enthusiasts, or just some plain quasi-philosophers. Yet, I still felt alone and lonely.

Then came a significant surprise.

I met this girl at a quaint town fiesta. She was my friend’s classmate, and after some introduction, we hit it off quite well. I wasn’t really bent on trying to have a girlfriend, much less courting her, but I did. After a month or so, we were a couple. And I was in a constant state of bliss; under the spell of this eloquence we call love. I spent a great deal of time either being with her or thinking of her and my thoughts of loneliness disappeared into the netherworld. I thought loneliness was never really worth something. That being with someone you love was everything one could really have. And that having a partner defined one’s existence better than having only yourself. Then came the storm.

After more than 3 years of sharing each other’s lives, she broke off with me. All hell broke loose, and I was left to rot by myself. I tried my best to fix things and regain the relationship that I held on so dear. But then there was nothing I could do, as it was all lost forever. I wallowed in my grief and depression, constantly being haunted by the hurt of the loss. And after awhile, all the idealisms of love and partnerships quickly broke down and dissipated from my mind. Again I was alone and lonely.

Fast forward to today.

After almost 2 years dabbling into various things like studying, working, and trying to move on, I find myself still alone and lonely. It has been quite a long road to which I found myself dealing with sudden bouts of disillusionment and despair. I experienced pitying the life I came to live, for all its worth seems to have lost its luster. I tried searching for some sort of meaning to which I may find happiness, sometimes looking for someone again to fill the void in my life. But then, I was awakened by my own ruminations.

I recognized that my loneliness is in fact a defining state of my existence, in the sense that in my solitude I am able to reach out and get in touch with myself and with other people. That I am able to enrich and empower myself with every step I take on my own. That I am able to live my life on my own terms and discover more things that make stronger each day. That I am alone and lonely, not because there is no happiness in it, but because, there is absolute control and possibilities in it to which I can use to attain happiness. Moreover, it is the realization that there is also growth in solitude, for it is better to be alone and lonely, than to plunge into a relationship or connection that is treacherous or uncompromising.

Nevertheless, I am not totally alone as I have many friends and people around me that I cherish and hold dear. I am not a hermit of any sorts. I am just alone and lonely because I chose to be a person who wants to be ready enough to share a part of his life to someone worth deserving it. I am alone and lonely because this is only a temporary state wherein I begin my journey towards self-awareness and self-direction, in preparation for something beautiful and wonderful to come into my life. And I am alone and lonely because I know this is the path towards being happy in the end.

The Phenomenon That Is Called Sidebar...

2004-08-09T00:33:00.000-07:00

“Tara, SB tayo…kitakits ha…”

How many times have I received a text message like that? Honestly, I totally have lost count. It’s almost as if it’s part of a daily greeting of sorts from those wacky bunch of people I call my buddies. And they never seem to fail to amaze me, as they do not have any second thoughts on hanging out in the same bar again and again. What IS really up with Sidebar Ortigas??!

I mean, it’s a not-so-chic bar that serves reasonably priced food and drinks while dishing out hip tunes ranging from alternative rock to dance music. It is usually filled to the brim during Fridays and Saturdays, mostly with yuppies or college students wanting to escape from their frantic and dull day lives. But hey, any other bar can offer that kind of thing, and even more. Some bars have lower prices, flashier ambiance, cooler crowd, and more interesting gimmicks than Sidebar. There’s not even a live performance of any sorts (except from the boozed-up crowd) that could really draw a wider range of people. No, Sidebar is just a plain and simple hangout per se. But why do our loony gang of freaks still go back to it over and over again?

Because it’s more than a bar to us, it’s our home away from home.

Yes, we do come there to have some fun (dancing like fools to our favorite tunes), drink booze (mostly beers and tequila with matching body shots), and have a good time (watching and flirting with beautiful gals). We watch other people do the same too, but we think we’re more than that. Not only do we hangout there until the wee hours of the morning getting wasted, but we also catch up on each other’s lives like some family affair. Achievements get to be lauded and recognized, problems get to be heard and advised, and stories get to be told and passed around. Seems pretty ordinary still, huh?

What really sets us apart from the rest of the Sidebar aficionados and regulars is that we go there with some kind of devotion and commitment. However, that devotion and commitment isn’t just meant for that place named Sidebar. No, what I’m talking about here is the dedication we have as a “barkada” to gather and be with each other without any sort of pretensions or disguises. We go there knowing that someone would listen to us, talk to us, or even help us with whatever burden we have, under the glaring sounds and drunken breaths. We know that we are in the midst of friends that will be there for you either in zany adventures or in rock-bottom dilemmas. And that’s what it is all about.

For us, Sidebar is just a means to be ourselves, even for a short period of time. A place of refuge and escape from everything and everyone that life throws at us. Yet it is still an important part of our lives, because just like home, we grow more each time we go there.

“Tara, SB tayo…kitakits ha…”

“O sige, papunta na ako…”

Because I Dreamed

2004-08-03T07:37:00.000-07:00

Last night
I dreamt of her
Not that I should
But because I did

She gave me a kiss
And I kissed her back
Not that I should
But because I did

She hugged me so tight
I felt like myself again
Not that I should
But because I did

She was so sorry
She knew I still love her
Not that I should
But because I did

I tried to kiss her again
But then I woke up
Not that I should
But because I did

That Which We Don't Know

2004-08-03T07:36:00.000-07:00

That which brings us to happiness, is the same thing that pulls us down
That which delivers salvation, is also the cause of dissention
That which drives us to succeed, is the one that mourns us in defeat
That which promises fruition, is the source of our oblivion
That which gives us life, is also the bearer of death

And that is which we call HOPE.

Our Lady Of Hostility

2004-08-03T07:35:00.000-07:00

Awed by your charm,
Frozen by your words.

Talk is cheap, and so am I.
But I’m not foolish enough,
to trespass your way.

Awed by your charm,
Disgusted by your words.

The Devil Of Your Dreams

2004-08-03T07:32:00.000-07:00

Fearless and bold
An enigma of sorts
Tempest of beauty
Illusion for the meek
Menacing thoughts
Amazon gone wrong

Could you just calm down
And stop bastardizing
Maybe you think
It’s cool to be rude
Lo, and behold
Out comes your vileness
Zee devil you are
A fallacy of the wit you have

The Travesty Of William Hung

2004-08-02T03:06:00.000-07:00

“History admires the wise, but it elevates the brave.”—Edmund Norris

There is a thin line between being an inspiration and being a complete idiot. And William Hung playfully exists inside that line.

Yes, I know that he has become some sort of icon to those who believe that there is more than what meets the eye. To be able to transcend the concept of perfection in relation to fame, he has shown many of us that by being a parody of sorts, he can become an instant source of stardom. I admired him for that. But then, after some careful thought, I realized that he is an utter insult to our society.

Why? Because he is a sham.

Maybe he doesn’t quite comprehend it himself, but he should think about the factors into which he is up against. He is, of course, of Chinese descent, which has this indubitable mentality called “The Middle Kingdom Complex”. This complex is rooted upon the historical leanings of the Chinese people, wherein they believe that they are the rightful rulers of this world; hence China was then called the Middle Kingdom in the ancient times. Their belief in their superiority may not be that evident nowadays, but still, culture-wise, they could not just rid themselves of that certain sense of braggadocio. (I have seen various instances of this. I may be over generalizing, but then I think it’s high time we become aware of it, so sue me.)

Another factor is the Asian concept of The Face. Most Asians, especially the Chinese, have this high regard for their status and dignity. That is why they don’t usually respond well to criticisms and contentions. They feel slighted and disgraced right away. Although most of us would have this kind of behavior also, this is more amplified in the Chinese culture because of their Middle Kingdom Complex. If you want some concrete evidence, try exploring and researching on the Taiwan-China crisis, that has until now been the source of annoyance to both parties.

And the last factor is the pathetic pop culture. This culture nurtures the concept of fame, which translates to the marketability of anything to become famous, without any regard to values and principles. Whatever it is that is deemed to be entertaining and popular, it seems to be rightfully justified. However, this puts us in a quandary, especially since we become accustomed to cheap ideals that are shoved into our consciousness. (Think of the Avril Lavignes, Britney Spearses, Ricky Martins, Sex Bomb Dancers, and Jolina Magdangals of this world!) I mean, it’s one thing to express yourself in order to amuse people, but it’s another thing to be so shoddy and uber-cheap in doing it. Even if art allows diversity and expressiveness, it also entails creativity that should elevate one to a higher form of consciousness and reasoning.

Recognizing all these factors, I came to surmise the despicability of William Hung. He may just be a victim of various forces that be, but he should know better than parade his so-called “imperfection” to the world as an “inspiration”. He is a contradiction not only of our society, but also, more glaringly, of himself. Yes, maybe he is a revelation to all those “imperfect” people by showing them that they can make it big, yet, it seems that he is sticking it too much in our faces that we should be just dismal and underachieving in our lives. Even right now, I can hear him laughing and singing “She Bangs” while his bank account fattens and we are unconsciously being had for the sham that he is.

I do not envy him because he is a life-size reminder to me that the world has sunken to an all time low. It is my gallant wish to be so UNLIKE him.

“But to what kind of bravery is that of being foolish enough to show cowardice behind the glittering lights of fame.”—Julius

Author’s Note: This is not a complete racist article…although I have some reservations to SECF (slant eyed Chinese fucks). It seems just coincidental. Yes, this is a very opinionated article. I offer no excuse or justifications. Feel free to react. Special thanks to Tom Clancy’s The Bear and The Dragon novel for the eye-opening information and to all those SECFs I came to know for fueling my fire. Mabuhay kayo!

My Tree Of Life

2004-08-02T03:03:00.000-07:00

The Tree of Life (Sephiroth) plays a pretty big role in the story of Shin Seiki Evangelion. After all, the Sephiroth is a map between humankind and God. It essentially gives directions on how to get to Heaven (and don't forget that it was also the Tree of Wisdom that brought about mankind's downfall in the Garden of Eden, and so it goes that the Tree of Life will bring us back to Eternal Happiness). Perhaps "enlightened" people (i.e. people that had gone through the trials of the Sephiroth) were needed for the Third Impact (the union of all humanity) and became their own type of "god".

To begin with, the Tree of Life consists of ten rings and 22 lines (which is the primary mandala of the Jewish Kabalah). Through a symbolic process of manifistation (or FORCE precipitating into FORM) the force in organization undergoes an increase in complexity and density on descending the Tree.

The rings are called Sephirah (or Major Paths of Wisdom) and represent established forms of existence (form concepts) as they divide up God (each being a different aspect of God). The lines are called the Minor Paths of Wisdom and represent established forms of consciousness (force concepts).

The gist of the System is it is a means of converting us humans (from Malchut) to God (at Keter and beyond) and vice versa. Basically, each different aspect is a bit more advanced and beyond mere mortal's limited comprehension (one has to advance to the next Sephirah in order to come close to understanding the following one).

I would like to place myself in that process, thus here they are:

Malchut, kingdom – this phase is all about being able to exist… I was born into this world 23 years ago…this is the first step into the process of becoming.

Yesod, foundation -the virtue is here is 'independence', so I guess the best example would be when I tried to do things my way… trying to establish myself in this world as a unique individual through dabbling in various things like playing music, writing, and not being stereotypical.

Hod, glory - The virtue is honesty... so I guess this is when I learned to open up myself to other people—e.g. telling my problems to my friends, being sincere in my relationship with my then-girlfriend, being a true person to other people—thereby acknowledging the idealism of honesty.

Netzach, victory - The virtue is unselfishness. By being able to share a part of my life to other persons…and being there for them when all hell breaks loose in their lives. I also learned how to have a sense of compromise by being in a relationship.

Tiphares, splendor - The virtue is devotion to the great work. This was apparent in my two former jobs—as a sales trainer in a life insurance company and as a medrep for a pharma company. Though I never considered myself to be an exceptional employee, I learned the value of work and being devoted to whatever duty I have been entrusted.

Chesed, mercy - The virtue here is obedience. When I was working, I realized that you follow or obey not because you fear the authority, but because you respect them for who they are.

G'vurah, strength -The virtue is courage. To have been saddled with so much trials in such a short span of time and still be able to live through it…I think I don’t have to explain it.

Binah, understanding -The virtue is silence. This is still under contention since although I have done countless introspection and musings in my solitude; I still don’t have a complete grasp of the scheme of things.

Hohma, wisdom -The virtue is devotion. Learning the sweetest and the saddest parts of life through a girl that I loved with all devotion.

Keter, crown – This is the final step towards deity, the decision to choose between comfort and suffering. But I haven’t taken that bold step yet as I choose to suffer as part of the human experience.

This Sephiroth is not a religious nor ideological declaration for me…this is just a quaint tool for me to see myself in the light of another belief. This is just a personal introspection that I want to share. (Thanks to Shin Seiki Evangelion). I am still in search of that mundane happiness I lost 2 years ago…and maybe this will help me find it.

Wounds and Burning Bridges

2004-08-01T10:34:00.000-07:00

“People can live on because they are able to forget their memories.”--Gendo Ikari, NERV Supreme Commander (Shin Seiki Evangelion)

As a kid, I was always prone to injuring myself while playing. I would come home running with either a deep wound on my knees or a big gash on my elbows. And I would bellow like a distraught banshee, as my Mom would dress up the injuries. After some time, I would see a faint scar where the wound was, and I would remember the time it was bleeding profusely. My friends would tease me about the scars, because they, too, would recall my derring-do misadventures, much to my embarrassment.

I never thought that those times would somehow mean something, as I grew older. But one does really LEARN from experience.

Somehow, being able to undergo various forms of failures and problems through the passage of time seems to have opened up a certain state of consciousness within me. I thought I was ready enough to face the probabilities of life. But then, for one to be subjected to his/her heart utterly broken, to have tried to end his/her existence, to have figured in an accident, to have been robbed pointblank, and to have lost his/her job, all in a short span of time? I couldn’t believe that I had the penchant for luckless circumstances.

Yet, I know these things are only the tip of the iceberg. With each and every abrasion, the pain and hurt doesn’t emanate from the event or situation itself, but from the consequential wound and scar it brings. It is difficult to face the aftermath, even with the ballyhooed positivism, “Something better will come your way”. Yes, I believe my luck will turn someday, but for now I have to nurse my wounds. And so I have to deal with the memories I carry--to be able to forget them, to be able to bury them not as a part of my past, but as a nonexistent event altogether. It may be quite a desperate measure, but I think it serves its purpose of having nothing to hold me back as I tread onwards with my life. It is not that I don’t value the raison d’etre of those circumstances, but in as much as I want to move on, I don’t want to keep them as part of my luggage.

Simply put, I believe that there is no point in reparation or reconstruction. I just need to burn the bridges behind me. It may not be the right thing, but it is the only pragmatic thing for me to do. To hell with the end not justifying the means. I’ve been to hell and back so sue me. I’ll live on and live again, on my own terms nonetheless.

Turning, Returning

2004-07-24T11:38:00.000-07:00

When the rain falls
it sends down ripples
just like tears
when they touch the ground

When life goes mad
it sends down trials
just like mine
when it all comes crashing down

When hope becomes blind
it gives out signs
just like smiles
when they all turn to frowns

When time becomes numb
it hides all chances
just like mine
when they all come crashing down

"We try as much as we can, but in a way, there seems to be something else beyond our control. Maybe we bite the hand that brings us down."

We Could Never Be Ubermensches

2004-07-18T11:32:00.000-07:00

Whilst we push the limits of our existence, the world never seems to budge and make way for us. This is the simple consequence of bridging idealism with reality. In another world, maybe we could be gods in our own right.

We could transcend the improbabalities set upon us. We could take flight in the bliss we hold in our minds. We could break the barriers of impersonalism. We could shower other people with the optimism of life. We could even shatter the masks of idiosyncracy that most of us wear.But alas, this is the one and true world we have. And this world does not have any room for those possibilities. We have to live with what is upon us--the potholes, the kinks, the dysfunctions, and the "thrill" that is called traversity.

Thus, to live is neither to crave for happiness, nor to endure pain. Instead, to live is to understand that pain and hardships are part of gaining happiness. As Kaji Ryoga puts it..."if you've known pain and hardship, it's easier to be kind to others..."

The ugliness of being hurt is also the beautiness of being happy. We could never be Ubermensches...only a dummkopf would label himself that way because we cannot rise above reality and the herd...we could only try to dwell "in-this-world" as a Dasein would.

Transpositionality

2004-07-17T11:30:00.000-07:00

"To even think that we have the right to deconstruct life itself is nonetheless a manifestation of our decision to be free from the fold."--Julius

I have been constantly annoyed by the possibility of turning a lover into a friend. My answer is nay. For whatever reason I might have, it is but valid to me. It is not about pride. It is not about being bitter. It is the certain sense of practicality in me that overrides any plausible explanations which I abhor.

As I have known, even the sweetest and greatest moments do not assure a level of security. So why bother aspiring for friendship? One does not even know the essence of commitment, for sure...and maybe that friendship is just based on a utilitarian measure. It figures. I'm not here to be a security blanket.

You pays your money, you takes your choice. I rest my case.

Making Believers

2004-07-11T11:21:00.000-07:00

I see something in you that is pure
a blessing you are to me
yet we still need more time
a day or two to make us believe

I feel something beautiful and true
a blessing you are to me
yet i still need more time
a moment or two to make me believe

I know something special about you
a blessing you are to me
yet you still need more time
a gaze or two to make you believe

You should read between the lines
the shortness of time does not limit us
or take away the bliss you give me
You make me believe again...

Beyond You

2004-07-11T11:17:00.000-07:00

If i could only know you more...
understand the way you are...
then i could probably put myself on the line...

I think i could somehow reach you...
the way you let yourself unfold before me...
even if we dont have anything else for now...

Maybe, just maybe we could be...
something that's beyond comprehension..
beyond expectations...
beyond what life holds for us...

I will not promise you anything...
except that i'll be more than someone...
a true person in front of your majesty...

Same Here

2004-07-04T11:25:00.000-07:00

A lingering dilemma of mine has found some reprise lately. As usual, I came to the point of realization only after the foolishness I made. But then, I was fortunate to have extracted some invaluable ideas from that sordid phenomenon. And here they are...

There should be no excuses made.
There should be no justification needed.
There should be no attention called for.
There should be no kindness given.
There should be no bond to be considered.
There should be no room for any commemoration of the past.

No...there should only be anonymity, ignorance, disassociation, disbelief, sarcasm, and indifference...because it is only then will it really matter most--the end of it all.

All I need to do is to not care at all. After all, there's nothing that really binds us, only the past...and I came to realize it was not something to treasure anymore...go figure. I live by my own set of reality now, the things that I have known to be real. I'm done with fantasy, dummkopf.

Beware Criminal

2004-07-04T11:23:00.000-07:00

One thing I have learned from my past is that if you let yourself be used...
you will be used...no matter how "heroic" or "dignified" your purpose is.

Such is the despicable reality of consumerism within the interpersonal world. And the saddest part is, the ones whom you thought you hold dear the most are the ones who are using you to their own ghastly schemes.

Trust is really a double-edged sword...and you have to bleed first from yuor wounds in order to see the reality of it.

You Think You Know, But You Don't

2004-07-03T11:28:00.000-07:00

With so much rancor in my existential meanderings, I don't quite see the real reason why I should even give a damn about filtering my emotions. I mean, should I be a nice guy to someone who doesn't even know how much dissident circumstances unfolded?

There is no room for excuses, for I have decided not to indulge myself in petty interactions just to humanize the encounter. No, I will remain a disproportionate being inspite of the constant proddings of interpersonal etiquette.

I am not here for any grandstanding of my abilities as a person. I am not here for any hopeless waiting in the midst of adversity. I am not here for any pitiful consideration of my life. I am here just to prove to myself that beyond the materialism of love and relationships, I am bound to discover someone else worth knowing more. I came, I saw, and I flashed my middle finger...

Simple Minds Cannot Seem To Understand

2004-07-03T11:27:00.000-07:00

I find myself bedazzled by the fact that some people are precariously devoid of any emotions.And yet the thing is, they place a certain amount of premium on finding a perfect reprise.

Certainly it is a dilemma of sorts.I wouldn't mind waiting for the devil to take over and kill us all. Such is the demise of the human nature.

As Lonely As It Gets

2004-05-02T11:13:00.000-07:00

It’s ironic you think you’re alone
But you shut yourself out from me
Do you even think about me
When you hold him still?
Or am I just a pawn that you try to use?

It’s ironic you think you’re lonely
When you drag yourself into him
Do you even see the irony
When you want me to be happy?
Even if you know I only long for you

Please don’t rearrange the truth
If you know in your heart everything we had
Please don’t turn away from me
If you know in your heart everything we had
…was not a lie
…was everything for you

Will You?

2004-05-02T11:04:00.000-07:00

Will you look past the mistakes I made?
Will you set aside the troubles we had?
Or will you just numb yourself from me?

Will you build that wall higher and higher?
Will you cross that bridge that we made?
Or will you just need me when I’m gone?

I tried to reach out for you
but you seem so far away
Not by distance
but by the feelings you show
I tried to reach out for you still
…but you’re not even there…
will you try to be there?....

When You See Me...

2004-04-24T11:12:00.000-07:00

When you see me
Do you know how I feel?
Do you know what I’ve been through?
Do you know that deep inside, my heart pines for you?

When you see me
Do you even care if I still know you?
Do you think that I’m just a big joke?
Do you try to slam the door that connects us?

When you see me
Do you feel empty and remorseless?
Do you feel I am your dark and ugly past?
Do you really feel nothing binds us at all?

Because when I see you
I don’t even try to think
I don’t even try to move
I don’t even try to know every single thing
That came between us

…I just try to feel the way it was when I first saw you…
…Even if you don’t see me at all…

Why Do I Even Bother To Ask?

2004-04-24T11:11:00.000-07:00

Why do I even bother to ask
If something beautiful can turn into black?
Is it because I don’t see things straight?
Or is it because I can’t even fight the way I feel?

Why do I try to keep away
If there’s nothing else to do but cry?
Is it because I don’t have what it takes?
Or is it because I seem to have lost you forever?

All it seems to be
Is a different reality
Contrary to what you believe
I have nothing else to give

Why do I feel this way
If you can’t even believe the things I say?
Is it because you never gave me the chance?
Or is it because there was nothing left at all?

I’m just saying what I feel
After all, nothing’s worth saying things to you at all…just so you know…

How Does One Overcome Tragedy?

2004-02-02T10:55:00.000-08:00

How does one overcome tragedy?
By simply recognizing the imperfection of life.
A bold statement perhaps? Maybe.

I feel as though my past was just a worthless struggle. All because I thought love could conquer all. Indeed it was a costly idealism on my part because I’ve learned that love can be a passing fancy…a flavor-of-the-month type. It may, for a time, feel real but it can go away quickly as it came. And that’s why my tragedy was just a simple case of bad luck. It was never really something worth fighting for, because I realized that there are certain persons who just aren’t capable of seeing through something deeper than a moment’s madness. Yes, now I know it was just a moment’s madness and I just laugh at myself for being so foolishly “in-love” with that person. A big blunder on my part. But it may have been a blessing also. I mean, at least, I have learned to appreciate love’s beauty and passion…and also being able to love truly, with no hesitations or pretensions on my part. Alas, it was just the wrong person (though I still think of her as the most perfect girl). I was just lucky I survived that tragedy with a wider understanding of things.

Life isn’t that simple indeed, and complexities do abound in every facet of it. In my case, I think whatever happened did not happen for a reason, but rather, it happened the way life seems to be—unpredictably harsh but inevitably practical. I may have some regrets but somehow I know I’ve done my best. I can never make her love me even if I had all the things in this world. I have come to accept it as a matter-of-fact, and I know I am happy with what I am right now...
It is never easy to live with scars, and yet seeing things in a bigger perspective, I think it was the best thing I could do to make her happy. All is well because I think I hadn’t failed, but instead succeeded. Although I haven’t received that much, I have given more than enough to make it a seemingly beautiful and magical experience. And it gave me some kind of relief, knowing that it was just reality passing me by.

Thus, in order to prevail over tragedy, one must always see beyond the idealism of life. Our own whims do not constitute a very pragmatic understanding of the world. Always think “outside” of yourself, and accept the realities as they are (it may seem to be a form of fatalism, I guess, but I’d rather prefer it to be an objectivist world-view). Once you recognize that the world has its own scheme of circumstances apart from yours, you can dutifully face and accept trials and challenges in your life with your head held up high. Also, never fail to always ponder and ask questions in life in the midst of turbulence, for in seeking for answers, you can also find meaningful things that can serve as bookmarks in your life. Have a nice day everyone!

Love 101...

2004-01-02T11:02:00.000-08:00

We all become so engrossed with this beautiful thing called love and yet we really don’t know shit about it. Sure, we know it gives a cloud-9 pleasure, especially in the initial stages. How special it seems when everything is fine and dandy! I mean, there’s this encompassing feeling of bliss, worth, and sensuality. And yet, does it really mean anything more than an attempt at an emotional transference and escape? Maybe.
All these talk about “love everlasting”, “commitment”, “perfect kind of love”, etc. is just mere psychobabble. As Mr. Yotsuya of Maison Ikkoku puts it, “If one could live on ‘interesting’, no one would ever suffer.”
Indeed, we are all led into believing something exciting and thrilling could be beautiful. But if you look past the clichéd words and actions involved in a relationship, it really doesn’t amount to anything but fleeting feelings and semi-utilitarian motivations.
Am I just pessimistic or bitter? No.
Of course, I could be wrong with my observations, but unless the whole world straightens itself up, I know this is an apparent and common occurrence.
Why? Because we live in a different environment that does not foster real relationships. Everything is based on first-level contact and feelings.
For example, if someone likes you, some of the reasons would be:
1. You are physically attractive (translation: yummy, hottie, cute, babe, etc.)
2. You are financially stable (trans: rich, well-off, has a car/can spend on dates, etc.)
3. You are entertaining (trans: funny, amusing, conversant, etc.)
4. You have special skills and abilities (trans: cool, creative, talented, etc.)
When you have met all or some of these common barometers, you are considered to be a “prospect” that would be valued greatly as if you’re the first-round draft pick in the Dating Lottery. And so if you’ve established a relationship, MU, etc., these qualities you have are really the reasons for it. Never mind what they call those “magic”, “kilig”, and “special” reasons, they are all just alibis for having an ecstatic first-level feeling. (Another absurd reason is the “I don’t know what I really see in him/her” cliché—it only means it is a far worse excuse, a blind surrender of primal emotions and feelings…so beware!)
To continue, you can actually gauge the “relationship” right away if it is plain silly: if the qualities you have had somehow been found “not exciting” anymore or if the “feeling” is not there anymore. Expect the usual lame excuse: “We’re not meant for each other” or “We don’t work out anymore”. (This is assuming the relationship lasts for more than a week or a month!)
Now if it seems everything is still fine, then you’ve gotten past the “honeymoon” or “love-struck” phase. After it comes the “peaks and valleys” phase, where there would be an indefinite amount of fights, disagreements, and misunderstandings, jealousies coupled with some high points like more closeness, intimacy, and sensualities. It depends on how the pair handles this phase. (Most couples usually break up at this phase.)
If the relationship survives this phase, it would now progress/regress into the next phase: the plateau.
This is the most difficult phase because the main enemies here are boredom, complacency, blandness, and lack of excitement. Usually it takes a “courageous” and “extraordinary” effort on both partners to get out of this because there is the emergence of the “flirting” syndrome. (Although this might be present early on, depending on the type of person.) This syndrome entails the scouring for possible replacements, better prospects, and/or meantime partners. It would probably test the fragility and/or profoundness of both persons because it causes a big crack on the concept of trust, thus spelling an imminent dissolution.
Still, if the relationship persists, then it would go back to the “peaks and valleys” phase. (If it did not last then, voila! Goodbye!)
Don’t expect a nice ending or a perfect resolve because there isn’t any.
As long as the shallow attitudes of this world persist, then don’t expect a fairy tale romance to happen. Whatever you’ve read in various mushy and self-help books are just either sugary idealisms or old-school romance that don’t work anymore now. The modern world is a jungle where relationships struggle for survival. (This is not discounting other forms like M.U.s, flings, and ridiculous undefined unions.) With all the silliness and deception around, love is just a feeling… a temporary escape and reprise… but never the concrete bastion of deep relations anymore. They say it’s ok to be foolish when you fall in love… to take the risk of having someone to love… but this isn’t the renaissance period anymore. When you let yourself be swept away, you’ll end up a floating log in middle of the Pacific Ocean. (However, this doesn’t apply to natural born players, flirters, and seasoned “veterans” of the game.) Yes, love is also a game… where only those who like to play the superficial and shallow plays gets to really enjoy it the most. So before you plunge in, ask yourself… “What really is love for me?” Is it a fantasy that I just want to experience? Is it just a passing fancy to accommodate certain emptiness? Or is it the real thing? Maybe what you’ve been feeling is just a deep infatuation. Think hard because once you’ve gotten your share of blunders and disenchantments, you’ll be sorry you’ve followed your naïve impulse. Methinks one can never learn until they’ve stumbled. I have, and now I know what it means to “fall in love”…. you fall from grace and from reality. Have a nice day everyone!

N.B. This is just the author’s two cents worth of unsolicited advice based on previous observations, musings, and experiences that are validated and merited as true. You can try to ask for other views, especially from the idealistic, love-struck ones to get a second opinion. Please feel free to react, reply, comment, or argue upon your own reflection and principles.