Grown-Ups Just Being Grown-Ups

Grown-ups are screwed up.

At one point, they express their joy with such exclamation. Enthusiasm boils up in a flash. Their day yellow and bright and fruitful and productive from work and other shit children don’t care about. Then they treat you with great affection, transmitting their vibrant energies through warm bear hugs, and soft gentle kisses; then become proud of your achievements and whatever great shit you have accomplished in your life; then tell jokes that either make you laugh with sincerity, or force you to laugh out of respect for them.

Suddenly, they go berserk and become crazily angry at you. Their eyes wearing the look of doom, air rushing uneasily inside and out of their noses which look like that of a raging bull about to knock off its opponent. A bright red becomes slowly visible on their twisted faces, fists clenched, and, like a time bomb dropped in the air, only a moment away from exploding. They reprimand you for displaying such immature behavior, and judge you instantly without even considering to hear your side of the coin. But it doesn’t matter whether they hear your story or not. Either way, they will probably still be angry. That’s what they do.

Their pride swells up, and they become extremely self-righteous. They become impulsive asses, like their manipulative bosses. Always wanting things to go their way, always desiring to be rewarded with praise, obedience and respect (even if they don’t deserve them) at all times. They turn selfish, turning things into their favor for their own pleasure and refusing to think about other’s welfare. Because of that, they evade other people’s problem, as if it would make things any better. They’re so obsessed and busy about what they do that they have become superficial, blind and numb from the genuine pleasures of life.

Then, they become sad and regretful of their shortcomings and wrongdoings. They reach the realization that they are not, and will never be perfect. As a result, they undergo a sort of internal reform, a metanoia. They welcome their religion back in an instant, like how they call 911 when caught up in an emergency situation.

I want to grow up, but I don’t want to be a grown up. But it’s undeniably inevitable. I’m sure as shit I’ll be losing an irretrievable diminutive of my innocence each day of my life.

Oh, God forbid time to fly so fast.


Small Things Beget Big Things

Despite this unfortunate week, I have experienced for myself a very mundane, yet — this may sound gay — heart-warming act of kindness.

Our ‘family’ car which I drive to school every morning broke down during the previous weekend due to some kind of faulty wiring. Consequently, the engine fan belt was unable to function and we ought to have the car brought and repaired in the shop.

I have no choice but to welcome once again the oppression every school-day-without-a-car slams on me: the nagging persistence of the fact that I have to ride on a jeepney (because taxis are so damn expensive) every freaking busy morning on my way to school, and every heavy-traffic-stricken afternoon on my way home.

And mind you, it’s not easy. I’m sure every student residing far from the university agrees with me. I mean, frankly, who wants to ride on a jeepney fully packed with people squirming and battling for adequate space to sit, within one to two hours of travel doing absolutely nothing? It’s exhausting and a complete waste of time.

But today was different.

Like every busy morning since Monday, I found myself by the jeepney stop, in the crowd of people waiting and competing for a jeepney to ride on. When I saw a jeepney slowly decelerating to a stop to unload passengers, I bolted my way towards and inside of it, only to realize that 1. there was no space left for me to sit at the backseat; 2. the passenger to descend from the jeepney was in the front seat. With a slight desperation, I rushed out and towards the front seat —

One man had gotten hold of the front door already, on the verge of ascending to the front seat. Much to my chagrin, I decided to just find another jeepney. And in that very moment, the man called me and offered his seat, saying I take the seat because I still have classes to attend to.

And that’s all it took to ignite the bleak morning. Grateful, I took the seat and, with a smile, thanked him twice as the jeepney rumbled to a start.

It overwhelmed me so much, how something so ordinary and small can transform into something extra-ordinarily great. That simple act of kindness was a testament; a concrete proof that the human soul has retained its selfless nature. Perhaps, it was nothing for the man to do such kindness, but for me, it definitely was something big.

Imagine if one offers at least a simple act of kindness to another every single earthly day.


This Life of Perpetual Confusion

In all truthfulness, I am really starting to doubt if this path is the one that I ought to take.

Currently, I’m taking up engineering courses at my university, but I seem to always wonder if I would be happy when I finally become an engineer. Would all these be worth it in the end? I mean, I like all the numbers and maths and stuff, and I don’t really find it that hard –yet or at least now in my second year. Not to boast, but I’m kind-of-sort-of good at math, and I find my skills inclined to engineering. But there are really just some other things I love that I want to be actually doing in the near future.

Music. This must be the peak of my list. I’ve always wanted to make music, and I consistently sleep on the shit puddle of drool as a result from too much daydreaming about performing live with my band on the stage in front of millions of people. This may sound crazy, even too much, knowing the fact that my band hadn’t had any gigs since — let me exaggerate — the stone age. But the cliche is immortal — dream big and soar high — just as in John Lennon’s ‘Imagine’, ‘You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.’

Sadly, the music industry here in the country is not that booming (or I just don’t really know the truth because I don’t listen to much news on tv), which suggests a do-not-make-music-for-a-living thought. Although I really do wanna make music so badly, that I want to stick my face to my puddle of drool again to feel the euphoria of seeing myself with pure awesomeness rocking the stage.

Secondly, I have decided not so long ago, that I want to be a writer. I used to write sports articles in my elementary days for the school paper, and had also won an inter-school sports writing competition. I even can’t forget that one time I was being sent for another province to represent my school for the writing event. Despite those, I never really was serious about it back then. It was like, I just wrote ‘just because’. After reading a lot of material lately, especially young-adult novels, it occurred to me that I could be just as good as the authors nowadays. Okay, perhaps, not as good as the authors, but just that I could write stories well.

Yes, yes. The authors give me a lot of inspiration. Like, I now have this routine to really read books — I actually do have a lot of e-books stacked in my tablet — as often as possible. Applauses and hats off for them. However, at the same time, AUTHORS JUST SCREW ME UP (caps lock to magnify emotions). Their wit and brilliance just want to make me quit writing. Really. Everytime I finish one of their works of art, It’s like a diabolic voice out of thin air whispers something like ‘Oh my God, you’re thinking about writing again dumbass? I suggest you put down this goddamned book and stick your face again to that puddle of shit-smelling drool which you’re pretty remarkable at’.

Puzzles like these are just so endless and perpetual. I guess I’ll just have to continue living my life, do good, work hard, and find out where this road leads me. Anyway, I’ve got my God to drive me, and my expertise in daydreaming as my fuel.


Lily Collins is love

Three words…I’m in love.

Apart from Lily’s beautiful looks, I fell in love with her even more in the movie ‘Stuck in Love’. She takes the role of Samantha Borgens, a young and successful writer completely drowned in her own cynicism of love ’til she meets this guy named Louis (played by this lucky bastard who kissed Lily on the lips — Logan Lerman). I have seen this movie 3 times already, but I still wonder why, despite Lily’s great performance, she seems like an underrated actress. Nevertheless, she’s the love of my life ❤

To tell you honestly, my real motive for this post is to show you the poem which I dedicate to Lily Collins. I was completely inspired to do some art that one morning, and thought about making this poem while on a jeep to school.

(Disclaimer: I am not a drug user. The events portrayed in the poem are completely of art form and not in any way related to an experience of hallucination caused by prohibited drugs.)

So here it is.



Gripping the iron handle
In a slumber on the way
On lazy mornings, heavy traffics

Awakened by a sudden inertia
Passengers wriggling to sit
With hopes from a man’s lie

In my front she makes
Her crowning glory
Long pale-brown curls from the sun’s kiss

Cherub’s beautiful face
And sparkles of innocence
Radiating the world outside

With brows that compliment
Her eyes painted in tan
And sealed from everyone

But with a glare like medussa’s
Fierce as she hands pay
And convictive tone of her words

A woman so unpredictable
I rush to meet her stare
To unlock the seal to her soul

But in a sudden we halt
She descends to the pavement
With no footprints to trace

And once again I blew
A sigh of grief from failure
To a treasure within my grasp

The engine rumbles to a start
And I move on from the heaven
That existed for a moment

Gripping the iron handle
I slumber to drown the thoughts
Until I reach my destination