Me saying that this decade saw a hell lot of change would be an exaggeration.
Because, by nature, it will being a hell lot of change. Eight years ago, I graduated from elementary school, entered high school, and moved after seeing the worst of human nature. Four years ago I graduated from high school, entered college, and stayed after convincing myself that this is just me going through the motions of life in a years-long delay. Last year I graduated from college, entered the workforce, and... let's just leave it at that. My point is, this decade has been home to lots of change because that's what's written on the road map. That, and ten years is a really long time.
And then there's the fact that there's this odd debate on when exactly does the new decade begin. 2010? Commonly-accepted knowledge, also factoring in the fact that we all celebrated the dawn of the new millennium in 2000, or as some believe, a whole year early.
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I'm writing this one from Cebu. I convinced myself that I had to write this entry.Read more »
I almost forgot to do this, to be honest. Then again, I'm a sucker for tradition, and like the past three years
, I'm doing it again: a blog entry chronicling my Christmas group message, sent to a handful of people, and their responses to me, which are usually either a group message, a personalized reply, or the most annoying of answers, "who's this?"
The only difference this time? I'm much more cynical. Happy holidays! No dedications, no extras. Just think that you getting this from me says a lot.
I figured I'll only send the message to people who absolutely mattered over the past year - you know, the people who didn't spend their lives annoying me by pretending I don't exist. I would go "you matter this year" but that's cheesy.
So, no, she's not on this list like last time. Although that is, of course, a totally different story altogether.
Well, I added a handful of people who I haven't heard from in ages, too. Life will, obviously, get in the way. The message was written in my head in the middle of last-minute shopping last night, and sent to (only!) 59 people first thing in the morning. The results are, well, what I honestly expected.
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I'm almost finished with my Christmas shopping. Almost,
I insist. Sure, I've bought a gift for everybody I'm buying a gift for, but my personal shopping list isn't complete yet - and no, I'm not counting Allison Iraheta
's debut album. It's this time of year when I, like perhaps everybody else, update my wardrobe, and so far I've bought a pair of jeans (that I haven't altered yet), two shirts and a pair of shoes, although it's annoying to think that Jack Purcells
are only available up to a size ten, or so I think.
Now, the one thing I have yet to buy is a collared shirt. It's been a priority since I began working: it looks absolutely smart (especially in a world where the tee takes priority) and it somehow fits my current style philosophy, which is "look decent while throwing everything in the sink". (Actually, I don't have one. I just choose what looks good for me, and nobody has yet to stage a fashion intervention. Do I really need one?) Now, I haven't had time to shop for that, either because I've been buying gifts, or I've been too sleepy, an unusual side effect of daily Starbucks
I've been having a hard time looking for one. I was at Rustan's
earlier - then again, why am I looking there? Unless, of course, I plan to buy myself an expensive collared top - which I can do, if I had the guts to go for it. So, to the rest of the Shang
, then, although it being a relatively upscale mall, there really is nothing for me there.
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I remember meeting this guy. Oh, he's just perfect. I met him during this gig. Wasn't really well-attended, although I figure it's because the band wasn't really that well-known. Understandably, the venue was small. He was wondering why the venue was so small. Figured they'd go on to great things, thinks the band better get used to performing for more people. I couldn't agree with him more.He's fit, he's nice, he's funny. We got along quite well. Not really like we've known each other for ages, but there is something in common. He likes the things I like and we can talk about anything, even the things we don't like, endlessly. And did I tell you he's hot?So, after the gig, we set off for a few drinks, hailed a cab, and the next thing we knew, we were making out on the back seat...Read more »
If Charles Darwin is to be believed, we are who we are right now because we survived the things the world threw at us. Natural selection, yes. Creatures with lots of fur may survive a terrible cold spell, but will probably drop dead at the first sign of a heat wave. We don't have gills, but fish do. We swim but need oxygen. They jump around on land until they become our food.
It's a very random thought considering I wasn't listening to a science podcast on my way home earlier. What I was listening to is Wiretap
, this Canadian radio show that's not exactly comedy, or at least how most of us define it. Jonathan Goldstein, after all, is a humorist, and me listening to a humorist and actually laughing at his stories means I'm a sad, sad man - but that's not what I'm here for. Where were we? Not exactly comedy. All right.
The past few weeks they've been airing short stories from this collection
. It's one that I probably won't be able to buy, but I don't plan on buying it anyway, because it invokes existential thoughts, and they always keep me up at night. More of questions about life, really, peppered by ideas that we are just experiments by a bunch of organisms, ideas, whatever, perched atop asteroids. Tonight, the voiceover said, our universe's billion-year existence is because we're an experiment that's way behind deadline and way over budget. They can't figure out what makes us stick together and what makes us let go so quickly. "They couldn't understand what we humans refer to as love," the voiceover poignantly concluded. I wanted to hit my head on the vehicle's window.
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One of the things I hate about myself is my inability to decide, and to stick with that decision. I guess it's my nature to be very fickle and very impulsive. I just can't stick with things. I'll want one thing and the next hour I won't. I'll prefer one thing and the next hour I'll hate it. And you know how most people are with those who can't make up their minds. It doesn't really look good.
So, to compensate, lately I've been sticking with the decisions I've made. If before my feelings change every time circumstances change, this time I'm sticking with them regardless of whether time and space has moved things around, rendering everything I've decided on before moot. I can't do one thing that will change my life? I'll do something much more shallow, and stick with it. I can't let go of someone? I'll easily let go of someone else. It gives me a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment, the feeling that I can do anything I set my mind into.
Of course, there are problems. I'll still look bad, if not worse. One, this means I'm not good at prioritizing. Why set your mind towards something that wouldn't really change your life? Why spend thousands of pesos on something that you wouldn't touch after six days, rather than save the money and buy yourself something that you'll find useful forever, or at least for a while? Why devote all your energy to getting rid of something you're actually better off with, and instead dedicate yourself to pursuing something that wouldn't help you at all?
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Fingers pointed, unusually large eyes, and the absolute refusal to put things gently.
Accusingly. Fingers pointed, unusually large eyes, and the absolute refusal to put things gently.
So, I said, I'll take it in stride, and yes, I'm not bothered anymore. I just have nothing to write, and I thought I'll write about it, and we'll see where things go. It's just that, well, it's scary.
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Sticker number seven is a new favorite of mine: a tall dark cherry mocha frappucino.
Too bad it's just a holiday special. Then again, it's just because I want that Starbucks
planner. It's not really a big deal. I'm just challenging myself to gather seventeen stickers so I can get one of those planners. I've never done it before. That, and I have disposable income now. And I'm incrementally sleepier every day.
There is a branch near my office, one populated by college girl stereotypes and those who have gotten over it. The faces there have grown familiar, although I'm not yet on a first-name basis with them. There were a handful of hellos, especially with this one barista, I presume, the senior one, when I spotted her in the 7-Eleven
branch nearby. Thus, I don't expect anyone to get my name right when they write it down my cup.
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They sall say "try and try until you succeed". Makes sense, if you're the type who never gives up and has everything to go for, the type who believes people only have to pay attention to you and go "hey, you're not half-bad".
Catch is, I haven't seen anyone who goes about like that. The perfect excuse is "I'm just human", and with that, we get frustrated when everything we do brings us nothing, even after we've tried and tried and tried. "Until you succeed"? More of "until you see your life going down the drain because of your obsession". I'm tired of trying. So why not try elsewhere?
I'm tired of trying. You weren't listening. I won't just sit here and take all the abuse, but I won't just try and try and try, knowing that I will never succeed.
Well, because you haven't tried.
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