"I think it's gonna be a long, long time, `till touchdown brings me round again to find, I'm not the man they think I am at home... I'm a rocketman, burning out his fuel out here alone..." Rocketman by Elton John and Bernie Taupin.

Monday, March 14, 2005

The mark of age seems inept for brilliance that seems to transcend time. -- DC Corpuz

I throw away the keys to my rocket. It's over. I didn't think it would be over but I've decided to let go of the journey. The Rocket Man no longer seeks out the elusive bliss. He has grown up. Space is not the final frontier, he has discovered. It is ourselves.

Why search for something that continues to remain elusive? Why search for something that continues to free itself of you and then jumps into view every once in a while? Like a wily lover, a player, so to speak, it refuses to commit itself to you yet also refuses to let go of you. I don't play that game. No, not anymore.

I've let go of so many things and the pleasure of the elusive bliss no longer thrills me. I've learned so many things since I've begun and writing here has been influential. It helps me make these moments tangible. It helps me deal and helps me let go.

But I am moving on.

I've decided that there has to be a change. And this is one of them. I'm moving house. I'm no longer the Rocketman. I am no longer seeking out the elusive bliss. Now, I've decided, I'm going to celebrate my life's indulgences. I'm going to enjoy the pleasures of life. I am going to indulge.

And so I start a new journal -- Indulgences. indulgences.blogspot.com is the new home of all my thoughts.

And I will be starting another journal, this one, reviews of the movies, books and music that has touched me and/or has pissed me off in some way or another. It is my way of cataloguing art in all its forms. Here is hoping that I learn how to post pictures in my site. This one is called Watching Things Burn. The link is at the side bar.

Thanks to all the people who have read and those that have commented. Hope to see you on the two new sites.

I say good bye to the rocket. Sweet ol' girl has made me proud. It's time I let it go...

Sunday, March 13, 2005

"Wangs, there will be a day in the future where you will look back on these days of penniless existence and say those were the best times of my life! Then you will laugh and smile about it. Of course it sucks right now but it's really intended that way to make reminiscing so much more sweeter. So though you feel tied and bound, can't do the things you want, etc. Just keep the good fight cause the harder you try to free yourself the better you get at it. And believe me you will need those tricks to untie yourself over and over again because it seems life has an inexhaustible supply of ropes." -- texted to me by Anne Rodriguez

On the eve of my birthday, I find myself staring at an existential sort of contemplation. In the middle of work, on a hot Sunday afternoon with only 2 and half hours of sleep and a very long day ahead; I watch as things burn.

It always returns to fire. Fire cleanses the land, strips it so that water comes to heal it and start things anew.

It was my first time ever to ride a fire truck. It was my first time to head towards a fire. I realise now the insane sense of nobility that firemen have, to rush headlong towards the thing that people rush away from. Where people run because of fire's unending hunger and its dire need to consume, a fire fighter heads towards it with the goal to end its wrath. They save lives and they save things.

I watched them from the top of their fire truck as they look at each other, eyes hollow, faces blank and darkened with ash. Four firemen have just come back from battling the red beast and they just sit while firemen from other brigades take their turn. They just sit there. And what is it that I imagine them thinking? I imagine thinking I couldn't bring it down to its knees, I didn't stop it, someone could be killed, things are being destroyed. I am not good enough. But I watch them sit there, looking defeated and think, such noble and honourable people; to stare danger and death straight in the face and say 'I must help my fellow man.'

And this isn't bullshit either because they are all volunteer fire fighters. They receive no compensation whatsoever for what they do. They do this because they want to. These are people with regular jobs, families and friends. These are people with lives like us; except that they spend a lot of their free time training to fight fires. And they rush into the dangers, save lives, and are real life heroes a minimum of 200 times a year.

And they don't want anything in return. They just want that good feeling that comes inside when they do this thing. It's amazing.

It is truly inspiring.

And there I was, standing on the top of a fire truck and watch all these people running around; some women crying, faces black with ash and soot while I saw another walking around with a large pink back pack and a coffee-maker. One boy not older than 15 was carrying a huge 24 inch television. A woman sat in the street with a plastic bag filled with clothes, un-ironed and a little black bag. The things that people pick up; the first thing on their minds or in a state of panic, grab that which was easy to bring. I saw one man walking around with a gash, a wound in his arm and teary-eyed, holding above his head a bicycle. With all that chaos surrounding him, he saved his bicycle. Another man had saved his dog and since it had no leash, he had to hold on to it.

I've always wondered what I would do if I were to find myself in that situation. What do I save? My CDs or my books? Those are the only two things I've collected that would cost me much pain if I were to lose it. How could I ever get those individual pieces back? It would just be too much to put it back together. It would be the death of me.

But then, watching all those people running, crying, holding on to coffee makers and rice dispensers; I wondered, there really would be no question. I'd grab whatever I can get with my two hands and just run. Life is precious, after all.

There are people out there who risk their lives everyday for people they barely know. They do it because they know that it is good and doing good makes them feel good. My friends took care of me last Saturday. I didn't spend for anything as they brought me out to dinner, watched a concert and went dancing. They were very loving and treated me with great tenderness. I was flooded with affection. There are no other like them...

Cds and books? Yeah, they are an important part of my life. But so is my life and the memories that come with it. All things are transient. It only depends on how much value we decide to give to them.

I was watching things burn today but I also learned how to put the fires out.

Saturday, March 12, 2005

The songs are about the intangible, about situations out of our control, moments that aren’t entirely rational. Maybe it is all about love. -- Tanita Tikaram (about the songs in her new album, from her website)

It's a penniless existence for me. Work is piling up and my hopes are always raised and then fall over to nasty disappointment. I should really stop going to VTRs because they keep killing my ego.

But then again, that's not true. I have rationalised that I'm not the one they were looking for; there was another look or a better actor. It wasn't that I wasn't good enough, it was just that I wasn't the one that was envisioned. The disappointment comes from not having a chance to work in that environment and field again. And of course, the loss of the money. That's painful.

Especially in my situation now.

After what happened last Thursday, I feel so lost without a destination to go dancing. I have an alternative, but Embassy is just so far away and without a car, quite a difficult destination to go to. I know it is there if I need it but there is always a level of sadness when letting go of something -- even if it ended badly.

But I don't really feel like dancing these days. I want to do more writing but haven't had the urge, the feel or necessity. I've been disappointed too many times to try and write another script. I don't want to be jaded and force myself not to think about it and just to keep writing, keep producing work. But at one point, you can't help but think it is exactly like a raffle, like the lottery and I never win in games of chance. It's always got to be about hard work.

And I'm working hard now. And nothing seems to be paying up and I'm wondering how long it will be before I march up to my parents and do something I haven't done since May of last year and that's to ask for money. Something I am so loathe to doing. I don't want to. I've been enough trouble as it is... but I've got bills to pay.

And the days drag on and everyone is flooding to the beaches and I have to stay home to remain practical and it is the smart thing to do considering my current financial status. And everyone returns to the city and they are dark and peeling and radiant and energized. I wait for my turn.

I wait for my turn.

But I have a smile on my face. I am getting to know someone and someone is getting to know me. And I feel safe and secure and this is exciting and thrilling as much as it scares me. I'm getting back on the saddle again, or so they say. I'm trying it out one more time. I'm giving it another shot.

I'm not jaded. I'm not yet done with love. I once again pack my bags and take the journey and hope I don't get lost like I have so many times before. I always take this trip.

That means I'm not jaded. And that's a good thing...

Friday, March 11, 2005

No rice
So into the bowl
I put flowers

-- texted to me by my Dad

I have to find a new place to go dancing. I just had a horrible time in the two clubs that I frequent and I don't want to go back until the anger subsides... And that will probably be in the next 8 to 10 months maybe.

I'm just so pissed. I'm over-the-edge in anger. In the first club, so disgusting asshole bumps into my while I'm pissing in order to get my attention. I ignore him. He then slurs something which I suppose was to resemble something akin to speech but I just look at him and say "I can't understand you." He then proceeds to stick his finger in my ear and I move my head away and raise my voice and tell him he was rude. He then proceeds to continously annoy me until I finish peeing and walk away calling him a rude son-of-a-bitch. I didn't want to start a fight, the club belongs to a friend of mine and I was raised better. But I really so wanted to hit the fucking fag. I hate it when they impose their fucking sexuality on you. I can't stand in when they can't take the hint that someone is not interested. God. I really, really hate them.

On the dance floor, I was really enjoying myself, especially since the club was practically empty. I had a whole large piece of the dance floor to myself. He whips me with his shirt to get my attention. I so wanted to smash his face in, kick his ribs until they broke and then snap his leg into two. I wanted to turn him into a bloody pulp. I never had so much violent thoughts almost turn into action at any one moment.

In the other club, something similar happened. It was more full and the club's design makes it difficult to dance when it is crowded. People standing in the dance floor looking like idiots. It's a fucking dance floor, God damn it! What are you doing just standing there?!?! People walking right in front of people who are dancing, crowding them and forcing them to the wall. People just started to crowd and would just stand in front of me. What the fucking hell is that?!?!

And then people would just grab my arm and force me closer to them so they can whisper something to my ear. I'd respond in kind, smile and then move away. Then they would do it again to say exactly the same thing. Jesus Christ! So I dance well. So I dance like there's no tomorrow. That doesn't make me public property. I don't care if you admire me; treat me like a God damn human being! Tap me in the shoulder, smile and introduce yourself. I'm not some thing, I'm not your property.

Fucking assholes. People standing around, trying to see and be seen. It is so pathetic. I should know, I've been there. I've done that. Fucking losers.

They always teach us, everywhere, in movies and television and whatever other classes that we take for self-defense that no means no. No. What? Do they want me to be rude? Do they want me to call them losers? Do they want me to act like the hand of the devil slapping them in the face with the cold hard truth? Do they want me to show them what I think of them?

I swear to God I have no plans of being nice anymore. I am so tired of being polite or civil. And if I hurt their feelings, so be it. I don't fucking care because they didn't think of mine when they started to treat me like an object.

I'm a human being, for God's sake. I want to be treated like one.

Some people just can't control themselves. They just go nuts and ask people to help them, to help them stop the things they don't want to do but they go off and do it anyway. They make it difficult to help them. It is such a waste of time.

Oh yeah, the icing on the cake? I didn't even want to go out. I had already decided I wasn't going to go out until next month. I need to save money. I need to be practical. I didn't even dress to go out. But a friend is leaving for the States for a while and we had to say good bye. I thought, or was led to believe, we were just going to have coffee in Greenbelt until I was told that we had to meet him at his club. I didn't want to go but then, he's a friend and he's always treated my friends and I well. So off I went. And he never came. We didn't even get to say good bye. That was just so stupid.

I'm really tired of this. It's time to say what I mean and mean what I say. I am going to do other things now. This whole night-life bullshit is done and over for me. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

Thursday, March 10, 2005

Listen when I'm silent there's a
Sound that only you can hear
Listen when it's quiet I know
You can hear it, cover up your ears

-- A Sound That Only You Can Hear, K's Choice (written by Sarah & Gert Bettens)

I'm not going to say that I'm out of it but it's nice to be smiling so easily again and it's nice to be here again even though I don't know where here will be after a few months. All I know is that there is so much fun in getting to know someone new and the little bits of electricity that you get when that person smiles because you did something funny.

The little game of being yourself and being funny and charming and wonderful and hoping that it is appreciated.

Getting materialistic again and I've got a wishlist going on and the top three items on that wishlist is a car, a laptop and an I-pod. The car is to help me get around and not have to rely on public transportation that gets impossible during rush hour and that gets a little intimidating during really early morning and you are sleepy and tired and it's late and there are suspicious characters about. The laptop is to help me work anywhere I find myself. I can take a vacation is still write. It's the mobility of working and something that doesn't take too much space since, apparently, I'll be moving to a smaller place. And an I-pod is for music in-demand. I can listen to my music when I want it, where I want it. I think I can fill up the 1,000 song requirements in a matter of seconds with all the music at my place. It would be instant.

Little things are like books and more CDs. I still have yet to buy the new Tori Amos CD and I see it all the time and it stares at me and beckons me to buy it and I want to but I have to be practical. I have rent to pay, bills to pay. I also want to get the new Kelly Clarkson CD especially since Chantal Kreviazuk co-wrote songs with her. I don't have the latest Corrs CD either. I still have yet to get a single Aimee Mann CD and I love her and I still don't have a single album of hers. That's so frustrating. The books are plenty but I don't know which to get. There have been no recommendations. I know that I still want to get Margaret Atwood's The Blind Assassin. It sounds like a book right up my alley. And I really like her writing. Neil Stephenson has a new series which started with Quicksilver. Of course, that scares me because that means I won't be able to rest until I've completed and read the whole series.

I also need new shoes and kind of a new wardrobe. I've been recycling clothes and running out of combinations for the outfits at home. I need to spark up a bit.

I've always wanted a metal watch and a bracelet.

*Sigh* The material life. It's something that hasn't entered my mind as of late and it was fun living a life that was not bent towards things. It just hit me again lately. It's funny that way, I guess. Popping up at the strangest of moments.

Well, gotta keep working so I can eventually afford all that I want.

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

It all started in another dimension...
-- Go, written by Melanie Chisholm and William Orbit

No matter how much you want to stay away from certain things, it always finds you. You can't hide from the things you want the most. Denial has a very strange way of slapping you on the face and reminding you of the things ignored, forgotten or denied. There is no way you can run from the things that you so desperately want.

To a particular somebody: I have yet to know what it is about you that I find fascinating. But for sure, the half of the face that I could see when we talked on the steps was more enchanting than the changing of colours, of the sudden burst of life of the morning. Your profile is more wondrous than the sunrise. And for me, who loves the sunrise and the sunset (my favourite times of the day), that is saying so much. I'm taking this one slow. I hold on to the changes that shift inside me and do this differently. There's just so much to gain and so much to lose. But isn't that how it is supposed to be?

I find it funny that despite all that has happened to me, I still have hope in my heart. And I'm not talking about love. Well, that's part of the equation but I am also talking about still going to VTRs and still doing things like submitting work to contests and stuff. I still plan on joining short film contests and joining script writing contests. It's strange. I thought, by now, I'd be forced to just live my life focusing on the here and now, on the things that are stable and not based on chance or a competition -- like a lottery or a contest.

Human persistence, I guess... The inability to throw in the towel; the desire to never give up. Maybe that's my nature, to continuously throw my body into the fire knowing it will burn thinking that I will be reborn after 3 days. Maybe I believe, deep down inside, that it's a phoenix soul that resides in my heart.

Now isn't that silly?

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

Strange soul you are
I stand in wonder
You make your own rules and use your own devices
You lay back easy to do
And I wish I were you

-- Wish I Were You, Alisha's Attic (written by Terry Martin and Shellie and Karen Poole)

I have jet-setting friends. I have friends who have traveled the world and seen the many different wonders there are to see in this enormous planet we live on. I have a friend who has surfed on the waves of 4 different continents. He has seen so many parts of the world. Another goes back and forth from Europe and Asia, different countries, for work. My parents, when they were my age, traveled all over the world.

What a wonder it would be to just step out and see it -- the mountains of Tuscany and Austria, the rivers in Thailand, Vietnam and Cambodia, the Great Wall of China, Big Ben and the Aurora Borealis. How wonderful it would be to visit New Zealand for a month. See all the places that Lord of the Rings had shot -- mountains, streams, forests. I even saw an episode of Amazing Race where they had a chasm that's really, really deep in New Zealand. And you have to hang on a rope and be brought down. If I'm not mistaken, 200 feet deep.

I've only been to Rome and Florence, Hong Kong and Shanghai. I want more. Rome and Florence was so beautiful - ancient and glorious. Shanghai was a mixture, the old and the new. It was fusion. It was alien to me. Hong Kong was just a huge shopping mall and for a kid of 13, that's not bad.

But I want more.

I just wish I wasn't so scared of doing the whole back-packer thing. I know I could probably find work as a dishwasher in a restaurant. I'm not against hard labour. I can sleep anywhere. All I really need is a clean toilet bowl. That's all I ask for, that's my only modern comfort demand. Otherwise, it's a go.

I'm just scared of the time lost. I could be making my resume more impressive. I could be making more work and if I'm out there, living a life fantastick out there in the world; would I be able to do that. I feel that maybe, after 3 years of that, all over Asia, I'd be able to sit down and just write non-stop for weeks. But I just can't help think of the things that will be left behind.

I'm weighing the things that will be left behind and the things that will be brought home with me... And I can't figure out which has more value to me. It is such a neutral debate in my opinion.

I know that it's mostly fear. Fear of the unknown. The fear grips me and forces the thrill of the unknown out of me. I want too much to spend my time in such a life experiment. I want sure results.

And that really makes me sad for me. I look at my friends who have been around the world, who threw care to the wind and just left and became a part of whatever world they found themselves in. It's so inspiring.

And it makes me feel small.

But I don't stop dreaming that one day I'll make it there. That I'll see this world myself. With so many wonders, so many things out there that is so beyond us, how could one want to just stay home forever? It is something I don't understand...

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