JUDGMENTAL KA EH

A guy in khaki shorts and a plain tee went inside a Lacoste boutique. After quite some time, he noticed that neither of the two sales associates went up to him and offered assistance. They just went on their 'chismisan' and worse, he even got "the look" from one of them. Feeling insulted, he called them both, pointed at several apparels and without fitting them, went to the cashier and paid. In cash.

Bet that's not a really different story for all of us. Fact is, we all get judged most of the time. You know why? Because we love doing it ourselves. But I can't blame us because we're born in a world of stereotyping where long haired guys are addicts, men in turban are terrorists, and people who don't dress up so well are 'jologs.' We don't use our eyes so well as to not give people labels right there and then.

Judging people can also be the other way around, when we overrate the superficial. The 'artista' that looks very pretty is already 'mabait.' The socialite who gets her hands on nothing but Prada and YSL is 'perfect.' And the mayor who did a few photo-ops on a fund drive is already a 'public servant.' 

I sometimes don't get how most people could not really look beyond what their eyes show them. It's nice to appreciate, yes, but there's always, always more to people than their physical attributes or whichever way they choose to carry themselves. For one I grew up not putting so much effort on how I look that some actually thought I was a lesbian. But that's where we're comfortable --- being us. And it's either you agree or disagree to this: we judge a lot, but equally trust that people will eventually accept us for what we are. We really are one hell of complicated beings. #

photo credit: escapistsbrewbox

PUMILA LAMANG PO NANG MAAYOS

Fan talaga ako ng mga langgam. Bukod sa nakakalakad sila sa pader, kaya din nilang magbuhat ng bagay na hanggang 65 na beses ang bigat sa sarili nilang katawan. Kahit na wala silang paningin, sapat na ang pang-amoy para makarating sila sa kanilang pupuntahan. Mahusay din silang mag-impok para sa panahon ng tag-ulan. Pero higit sa lahat, marunong silang pumila.

Isang kwentong pila ang paborito ko sa lahat. Isang pulis na mula sa Vietnam ang nagbabantay noon sa isang relief center ilang araw matapos ang malagim na tsunami sa Japan noong nakaraang taon. Napakakapal ng tao, at namumutla na ang karamihan dahil sa gutom at lamig. Pagdating niya sa bandang dulo, namataan niya ang isang 7-anyos na batang walang kasama at nilapitan niya 'to. Nalaman niyang naulila ang bata dahil sa tsunami at 3 araw nang di kumakain. Dahil sa awa, kinuha niya ang rasyon ng pagkain na nasa bulsa niya at inabot sa bata. Kinuha ito ng bata, nagpasalamat, at tumakbo sa simula ng pila kung saan pinamamahagi ang mga pagkain. Inilagay niya ang pagkain kasama ng iba pang rasyon at bumalik sa pila. Sa gulat ng pulis, tinanong niya ang bata kung bakit niya ginawa yun. "Lahat naman po ay nilalamig at nagugutom. At lahat naman po ay magkakaroon din pagkakataong makatanggap ng rasyon." Aray ko.

Sabi nila, ang disiplina ang isang bagay na kulang na kulang tayong mga Pilipino, at sa pagpila pa lang ay kitang-kita na natin ito. Lahat tayo nasingitan na. At karamihan sa atin, naningit na rin. Nakikita kasi nating ginagawa ng iba kaya gagawin na rin natin. Pero galit na galit naman tayo 'pag sa 'tin na ginawa. Nahihirapan tayong pumila dahil nahihirapan tayong magpakumbaba. Ang yabang-yabang natin pag nakakalamang tayo kahit kaunti. At nadadala natin 'to hanggang sa malalaking  mga bagay.

Mahabang usapin ang simpleng pagpila --- saan nagmumula ang mabuting pag-uugali, paano naipapasa ito, at paano nasasalamin sa kaunlaran ng isang bayan ang nakagawian nang disiplina sa maliliit na bagay tulad nito. Kung gaano kahaba yun, higit pang mahaba ang panahong gugugulin para itama ang di magandang nakagawian. Kaya sa susunod na makakita ka ng pila ng langgam, isipin mo na lang kung ga'no kalaki ang utak mo kumpara sa kanila para hindi maisip na nakakahiya ka pag nangunguna ka sa pila. :) #

photo credit: bwillib via Flickr.com

ESCAPOLOGY

Feeling all used up and exhausted, you sketch for yourself the perfect escape. In your mind, you go to some place where no recognizes you, and where no one gives a damn how you live your life. It's a perfect picture of a new beginning --- the big city, skyscrapers, farmhouses, and probably snow, if you're thinking to go up north. But soon enough a certain kind of loneliness creeps up to your senses and you realize your perfect escape is not at all perfect.

I remember in 2010 how much I wanted to get my hands on a scholarship for a two-year Masters program in Beijing. I made it all up in my head --- where I'm going to stay, what I'm going to eat, and basically just how I'm going to live a new life in a non-English speaking foreign country. I had the acceptance letter and visa forms all in my hands --- until getting denied of the scholarship spoke thousands of messages to me and made me realize everything was just my "perfect" escape.

People escape because they're troubled, and how they choose to execute the art of escapology wouldn't really matter until they get to the point where they bump their heads. There could be thousands of things that we want to get away from --- a family problem, a troubled relationship, work, anything in life in general. But what we are really running away from is the mere acceptance that this life does not permanently offer the perfect landscape we've always imagined. And I love it how Alex Turner put it all together in "Old Yellow Bricks"

"Looked so miffed, When you wished,

For a thousand places better than this...

You're at a loss, Just because,

It wasn't all that you thought it was."

Living this life isn't easy. At all. And I'm not going to tell you to "face your problems instead of running away from it" because I know it's easier said than done. Just live your life. At the end of the yellow brick road, you sure will see for yourself that though there's no perfect landscape, Someone invented the perfect sense in all of this. #

photo credit: Flickr.com

TXT TXT N LNG

Usapang jeep naman tayo. Maikli lang naman ang biyaheng Technohub galing sa waiting shed sa tapat ng University Hotel sa UP pero hindi ko alam kung bakit nabagot ako at naghanap ang mga mata ko ng mapagkakaabalahan. Ang nabalingan ko ay ang katabi kong tomboy na nagte-text. Ayos 'to. Text...text...text... Oops. Parang may kaaway yata siya sa text: "Ano pa ba namang isasagot ko sa 'ah ganun' at 'ahaha'?! Siguro tinatamad ka nang ka-text ako. Sige na, 'wag mo na lang akong i-text. Ingat ka na lang palagi." Send.

At sumagot si ka-text. Open: "E ano bang dapat isagot ng sinasaktan mo? 'Hahahahaha', ganon?! Ok, HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Ano daw? Ewan. Kaya naman bukod sa malapit na 'kong pumara, tinigilan ko na dahil mukhang wala nang katuturan ang mga susunod nilang palitan ng masasakit na mga kataga. Pero dahil sa sagutang aking natunghayan, naisip ko lang naman:

1.) In fairness, marami pa rin naman palang nagte-text na buo ang baybay sa mga salita. At kahit nag-aaway na sila, isinaalang-alang pa nila ang mga simpleng alituntunin ng linggwaheng Filipino na limot na dahil sa impluwensiya ng kabataang 'jejemon.' Kudos kay Ate. Este kuya. Wateber.

2.) Yun nga lang... Parang masyado naman na yata tayong nalulong sa kultura ng pagte-text na pati mga bagay na dapat pinag-uusapan nang harapan ay dinadaan na lang sa papiso-pisong komunikasyon, na madalas ay sanhi pa ng miskomunikasyon! Tsaka madaya eh. Pwedeng i-edit ang sasabihin sa text at pwede ring itanong sa katabi kung ano ba'ng dapat na reaksyon. Boo.

Ano na nga kayang nangyari? Nagbati ba sila? O cool-off muna? Ewan. Ang mas mahalagang katanungan kasi diyan ay: Ano pa nga bang ire-reply mo 'pag ang reply sa 'yo ay 'haha' o kaya ':)'? Hirap 'di ba? #

photo credit: Michigan Radio

'WAG KA NA KASI!!!

I was riding an FX on my way to work the other morning and heard one of the funniest (and crappiest) radio comments in media history. Straightforwardly, it was at Mellow 94.7. I'm not familiar with this station's format so I was actually surprised they had a morning show like "Rebel Circus" of Jam or "Morning Rush" of RX. On that morning's episode, question for the day is "What cools you down this summer?" The lady jock was reading the listener's texts and Tweets --- ice cream, halo-halo, aircon --- until she stumbled upon something she can't seem to pronounce. "Buh-nah-nah CONE yel-low." Uh-huh, I thought to myself. And this was how she and the gent jock went on:

Guy: What? What's that?

Girl: Banana Cone Yelo... Cone? Is that right?

Guy: You mean it's in a cone?! No maybe it's a typo! Maybe it's just like Mais con Yelo...

Girl: Oh really? I don't know... 

Guy: I'm not sure. I don't know Banana cone yelo either.

All I had to say is: ULUL. 'DI NGA? 'WAG KA NA KASI. Men, oh men. To think these guys are Filipinos! I mean I'm not taking away the fact that maybe they really DO NOT know what banana con yelo is but with those seemingly ignorant and tactless remarks, they went all the way down despite their high level of English proficiency. But really. Two people who do not know 'banana con yelo' in one radio station in one radio program at the same time? Maybe it's a hiring requirement. LOL. :)

Correct me if I'm wrong, but the new-gen of airwaves is now either a battle of English-speaking or babble-loving DJs, listing the 'Top 10' whatever trying to be funny, or making people answer the 'question of the day' that doesn't really make sense after all. So for one hour all you heard was twaddle, irritating laughter, and literally a couple of songs that are either over-exposed or over-rated.

Too much emotions there. But hey I'm not trying to bash anyone here because I know most of you love Chico and Delamar or Papa Jack or Sam Y.G.(?) and I respect every inch of that. Just that I believe the minds of Filipino listeners are capable of more than just processing humor and a bit of useless information. Radio is two things: music and awareness. So I don't know where banana cone yellow fits there. :)

So should we blame the media? Or ourselves because we allow them to give us crap? Whatever. I also can't answer that's why I stopped listening to radio when Energy FM killed NU 107. And banana con hielo? It's simply saging na saba cooked in syrup and smothered in milk and ice. Sometimes with sago. Just so these two fellas know. :) #

photo credit: Lasang Recipes

FRUSTRATIONS

Feeling like I needed an outlet to some emotionally-bothersome circumstances the other week, I tended to my usual habit of listening to music in pure isolation. After dozens of rounds of The Arctic Monkeys (curse you Alex Turner for being only a year older than me and writing all those hard-rockin' stuff!) and a few others, I found myself wanting to try a few pieces on piano. So I rummaged the net for some free sheet musics. The notes looked very intimidating. Tried piano tabs instead. Sounded off-key. Opened YouTube for some piano tutorials. Man, are they really teaching you how?! So I ended up once more playing only the intros to three songs. Guess I'm still living up to the title of the officially frustrated pianist.

What makes up the perfect frustration? Is it when you've done everything but chance does not permit you to meet that expectation? Or is it when you thought you've already done everything?

When met with the perfect opportunity and the right access, you can pretty much say you're quite lucky. But what makes up the perfect frustration really is our own expectations, which are sometimes set unrealistically, or if realistic, we fail to pour in the amount of effort needed to achieve it. Don't expect to be the world's greatest pastry chef if you haven't even laid your hand on flour and sugar. Don't expect you can penetrate Wall Street if you don't even know where Wall Street is. And don't expect to be a pianist if you've only arrived at a few intros. :)

But I'd like to leave you hanging in a contrasting note via Mary Schmich's memorable essay made popular by Baz Luhrmann in the 1998 hit "Everybody's Free (To Wear Sunscreen)":

"Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself either.

Your choices are half chance, so are everybody else's." #

photo credit: Literary Soapbox

SUPER-EARTH

by Ayn

From where I stood,

It was merely a big black awning

hovering above my view;

In the evening, that is.

But in sunup, without clouds,

It was an inverted stage of majestic blue

From where Sputnik drifted

It was perhaps more out-of-this-world;

Somewhat less literally,

Where behind those white swirls of ozone

Peek all the greens and browns

Sitting atop seventy-five percent of blue

Did she get a view of the Great Wall?

Better ask Neil Armstrong

Or maybe Lyka, for 100% fidelity

How many light years away is Andromeda?

And where (or when) can I meet you

When you're forced inside a black hole?

For thousands of years we've tried to find

A super-earth where life can thrive,

Where we can perpetuate 'life' as we know it.

But year on year only gas dwarfs are met

That, or a whole bunch of rocks and stars,

Telling us, not this time --- maybe not even ever.

I cry when I think of all the glory of Space,

That big black awning hovering my view.

I live a life that's purportedly 'mine'

But it's not, in proportion to the Big Void.

You're just not as big as you imagined.

Not even in proportion to where you stood. #

photo credit: Daily Galaxy

PRACTICE MAKES GAME-CHANGERS (A Look Into The 10,000-Hour Rule)

by Ayn

Let's go back to when we were gradeschoolers and we hear a lot of adults' "practice makes perfect" thingamajig. And we hated it, because we'd rather spend our youthful time living life in our own terms, hanging out and refuting this with the line, "there's no such thing as perfect." But little did we know that what really separates great people from everybody else is the fact that they spent 10,000 hours doing their craft, regardless if it's quite a success or not. Ten thousand hours?! Yeah, I know that sounds holy freaking way too much.

Dr. K. Anders Ericsson, a Swedish psychologist who's one of the leading theoretical and experimental researchers on 'expertise,' proved in a study that being an expert requires us to have done AT LEAST 10,000 hours of practice. This theory has been echoed by Malcolm Gladwell in his book "Outliers", which explained in detail the stories of the world's most successful people apart from what we are generally knowledgeable of.

Before the Beatles made it big, they had to perform live every night from 1960 to 1964 for 1,200 times, stockpiling some 10,000 hours of playing time on stage. By the time they returned to England, they were believed to have sounded like no one else. When Bill Gates gained access to a high school computer in 1968 at age 13, he started programming the machine. By the time he dropped out of Harvard in his first year, he already had an incalculable advantage over other developers of his time. Tiger Woods is a good example too.

Geoff Colvin also arrived with this conclusion in his book "Talent is Overrated", which claims that what we achieve isn't about natural gifts, and that great performance is more available than we ever thought.

But regardless if it really was 10,000 or what, people, it all boils down to one word: hardwork. Successful people did not just hit one brilliant idea and made money overnight, as some people makes it appear to be. They tried, and needless to say failed several times too. When we do one thing we love over and over, we develop a certain maturity and strength of character, because we refuse to back down and get discouraged during the first few tries. We learn to see things in a different perspective and accumulate wisdom from those experiences. Consequently, we become innovative thinkers when we find better avenues in doing these things.

Practice does not make perfect. It makes an expert and perhaps subsequently a game-changer. So to be one that's 20 hours of work a week for 10 years for you. Haven't started yet? Better do. #

photo credit: http://heart2heartlove.wordpress.com/page/2/

NOSTALGIA MANIA

Tracing those tracks did not help. At all.

So I'm in yet another episode of freaking S.A.D.* Having to meet up with and message old friends surely made diverting easier, but by doing that I realize I'm unconsciously retracing my tracks, at times literally. Was leisurely walking down my old route a few hours back, something I last did four months ago. And it doesn't help. At all. I'm starting to look for a part of my old life and badly want it back. From 1995, 1998, 2002, 2009 --- all those years.

Funny how people usually want their old lives back. Nostalgia, as they often call this medical condition. But what's funnier is that this "old" life we yearn for was once the "present" we never wanted. It's just so human to live in a realm of double standards.

Talk to friends, I was advised. It's actually hard for me take this advice easily because I feel like I should first define what a "friend" is, and to what level should this "friend" be in my specific situation. Do I need just someone who will listen? Someone who will tell me what to do? Or someone who bears way more sense to help me realize how senseless I have just become?

Again, I'm over-thinking. In the simplest sense, maybe I just need an outlet. Listening to Arctic Monkeys helped me quite a deal lately, else silence could have led me to some serious unscrewing. Just any outlet. Not necessarily someone to talk to. Not necessarily someone to read this pathetic entry. Because I honestly don't get what's happening to me now. But I know I don't always have to. #

photo credits: http://www.templates.com/blog/interview-with-a-3d-artist-of-the-month-andrius-balciunas/

*Seasonal Affective Disorder. Pls. refer to The Perfect Drug entry for more details. :)

THE BLIND'S CORNER

by Ayn

Is it? Is it?

Good news, it is.

It came on a Good Friday.

On the 13th of April.

I'm beginning to think that 13 is lucky.

Or coincidence maybe.

Is it? Is it?

Maybe.

There wasn't a fair chance.

Chance is never fair at all.

Is it? Is it?

Of course it is ---

for you at certain times,

when polarity inadvertently leans

Towards the sun-drenched side for you.

Chance is never fair --- just like you.

Then you're given a second chance.

"How can I thank Thee?" you say.

Back off. Minutes ago you just asked,

"How will I thank Thee?"

Your skeptic self begin to believe

It's not something you deserve.

Is it? Is it?

Go down deep and see.

I did not move.

I dared not stir

Until Answers fall down ---

They always do.

Like second chances.

They're just quite around the corner.

Are they? Are they?

They could have been. #

photo credits: http://www.dipity.com/tickr/Flickr_corners/