The Flight of the Rocketman

When all things are said and done, how sad to know that you spent your whole life trying to please people and ended up so dissatisfied. What was it that my friend Morx told me just a while ago? I had said something about being at the losing end of the stick and he said, "no, we are the smarter ones. We can see it for the stupidity that it is. We are better off." But knowledge is power and with power comes responsibility. And I don't see why I have to be so responsible. I never really asked for it. Being responsible for myself is hard enough to do as it is. I have to be responsible for all the information that comes my way too? It just isn't fair.

I was ignored today by a good, good friend because while I thought he was asleep at the back of the car, I talked to my friend about him. I was just wondering out loud why he does some things that he does. It just confused me since I don't think the way that my friend does. Apparently he was not asleep and he was all so angry. He gave me the silent treatment the whole time. He had the gall to be mad at me. Despite that it was a little comment about how he does things, I didn't speak about it to a stranger; I didn't give him a hard time about it; I didn't impose my will on him and how I think he should run his life; Jesus Christ! I still do so much for him despite the fact that there are strange quirks to his personality that I will never understand or truly consent to. And I get this treatment?

God! I allow myself to get so stepped on sometimes that I can no longer tell if this is how I really should look or if the tread marks are ever going to leave my face... God Damn it! The things I've done for that guy are more than what parents are expected to do for their children! The things that he has asked of me that I did without complaint. And mind you, this is not the first time it happened. This has happened before. The resolution, I apologised for talking about him. And he forgave me. What a crock of shit!!! And the deal, if he has a problem with me, he should tell me about it immediately so it can be sorted out quickly. Well, here we go again. Another round on the Merry-go-Round.

What a way to end the New Year. Morx, the amazing person that he is, will not fight against the system when he knows that he can't beat it. He's intelligent that way. So he had apologised for the both of us and received the apology as well. But at the end of the day, I'm not quite sure I'm happy with the outcome.

I wonder, sometimes, if I am truly attracted to immature people. But then again, Morx is a good friend of mine and his mind is brilliant. His demeanor and behaviour is so cold and calculating. And he is one of my dearest friends. So it can't be all so dismal for me. Somehow, I should just tip the balance of scales to favour the ones who are better for me.

I want to learn how to say "no" because that's all I need to get stronger and to move on from all the inanity that I allow into my world. If I could only develop the same spine and backbone that I've grown in dealing with people owning me up to my bullshit. I could look someone straight in the eye, even if I was wrong and not flinch. My Mom taught me to be accountable for my actions and decisions. If I made a mistake, then I made it. I will live up to it. It has happened before, I made a mistake and I was forced to own up to it. I did. I looked the person straight in the eye and confessed to it. It was that person who looked away. He/she (can not remember) could not face up to my convictions. My accountability had become a force that could not be withstood. It was he/she who succumb to the overwhelming power of my stand. I did it. I may or may not be proud of it, but I did it thinking it was the best decision to make at the time. And I will say that, staring you straight in the eye and I will not flinch. I will not move.

And I find myself caught in a maelstrom of emotion as a possible love interest comes whistling by. And everyone is so excited for me but I am not. How can I be when I am in love with another? Can I submit this person to agony and pain like I have done to one other before, 6 years ago? I love another. I long for another. One who will not be mine. And am I to entice, encourage and accept these little signs of affection from this newcomer when I am so clearly in love with someone else. I have such a great propensity for dishing hurt and pain and suffering. It is something I do so easily and sometimes I don't even realise that I do it. I've built this great fort of emotional and intellectual superiority that I forget that people cannot get through, that people drown at the moat and are ravaged by the defenses that I have put up.

Or am I putting myself on too high a pedestal when on certain days, I put myself so deep down under the Earth, even the worms lose breath. I toss and turn while awake. Too much like water, I think, no clear form, no distinct shape. I change my mood, my thoughts, my emotions the moment my surroundings change. The temperature raises just a little bit and I boil and become vaporous. It get's a little colder and I become hard.

Why do I bother? I'm never constant. I'm never still.

I hide my pain like the rest of them/ That's why I'm always laughing/ I'm troubled, I'm brilliant and miserable too -- Unwind, by Pink (written by Pink and Tim Armstrong)

I found a beautiful song and downloaded it and it is called Carrier of a Secret by Sissel. Beautiful, beautiful song. The lead singer's voice is so ethereal. It just floats up there. It's so beautiful. And I love the sound of an acoustic guitar set to atmospheric keyboards. I find it classy.

Yesterday was just too weird for me. After a whole day of heaped up disappointments, I bring over my two friends home and in the middle of everything, I get a call. Someone out there has been out of touch has been able to catch me in the middle of my spitfire life. I dropped everything and we just talked. Somebody out there who barely knows me is willing to just be there and listen. At least that's how it felt like. How... I don't know... strange?

Then, when one of my friends fell asleep, I ended up reaching out and touching someone's heart. It's the usual thing with me; I make it so comfortable and easy to let someone just open up things. I am the carrier of many secrets. For some unexplainable reason, people are not afraid to confide in me. They trust me.

And a good friend of mine last week was able to make me realise that all pain that is felt is the same, really. No matter what the cause of the pain, everyone feels it at the same intensity. You put a person who has just lost his cell phone with all the numbers and messages that were kept there with a woman who's husband of 35 years has died, they both feel the pain at the same strength, the same intensity. Though one person has, according to reasoning, more reason to lash out, enter despair, go insane; we forget that pain is felt in the same intensity. There is no degree to pain. It is just felt. And so many acts of anger and bitterness and loss, no matter what reason, will be done.

This really affected me. I have always felt like there are few people in this world who can match up to my pain. With this new frame of mind, everybody matches up to my suffering. The causes are different, the intensity is felt at the same strength. I am no different from anybody else.

And my friend, the life he has led. It makes me want to cry. It makes me want to cry at the suffering he has led. It makes me want to cry at my ungratefulness. It makes me want to cry because other people have suffered at the hands of others and I suffer at my own decisions, my own doing. It is as if I make myself incapable of happiness.

At one point, I have to start asking: what is it that I am truly afraid of?

And all of a sudden, someone put a comment on my blog. There are heroes still in this world. They just don't look like what we expect them to be, or something like that, I'm paraphrasing. And I don't recognise the name or the e-mail address. A stranger, indirectly (and maybe with different intentions) has made me believe in hope again.

And it is true, there are still heroes. They're just in disguise and they look differently from how we picture them to be. No more shiny armour and swords by their sides. No more chargers, no more plumes of exotic feathers on their helms. No capes, no shields, no pages. People still do things for others, totally selfless things.

But isn't it sad that they are no longer recognizable? As if they must go into hiding? Isn't it sad that nobody can just take a vow, an allegiance to some higher power - be it a king or God or a flag, like before? Soldiers don't seem to be cut from the same mold. Patriotism is one thing, but the full intention to want to do good before all, it's something that is not so blatant or obvious. And that saddens me.

But I am glad that, yes, there are still heroes, albeit small. In this day and age, we must learn to really look. We have to learn to find things in tiny spaces, in cracks and crevices. We must learn to see in the dark. It is all there waiting for us. Everything we ever hoped to have. We just have to start learning how to see again.

And in that little bit of wisdom, if I may call it so, there is hope, lingering, not shivering in the cold, but waiting patiently as hope always does. It's stronger than any force in the world. It has been here since man was able to believe. And it will come out.

I didn't want to leave this year behind with such dark thoughts. From the movie A Knight's Tale, the lady blacksmith (I forget the actress and the character's names) says to end all letters with hope. I have little, right now. But even a little hope goes a long, long way.

And I'll drive till I feel better and I'll play my radio/ my radio real loud/ and I'll keep driving/ Till I drive outta these clouds. -- Outta These Clouds by Alisha's Attic (written by Karen & Shellie Poole and Terry Martin)

Yeah, you can survive without another hero -- Lay Low by Alisha's Attic (written by Karen & Shellie Poole and Terry Martin)

New Year's is coming up and while a lot of people are looking to the future and wondering what it will bring and others look back at the year that is about to end; I find myself looking at the spot that I am in, the exact moment of my realisation that this year is about to end. It takes an incredible amount of concentration and focus to really look at just the moment that you are inhabiting. It is as if man's natural capacity to understand time is only directed to what has happened and what will. It is as if we were never meant to just inhabit one moment so completely that we forget what the future holds and what our history has all mounted to. I guess, at one point, when we think of everything we've done, seen, heard, experienced we will just end up feeling so sad. The "Is this it?" feeling is enough to drive anybody insane. Or thinking about the future and how it is just so unclear, how foggy the direction forward appears to be just sends too many shivers down the spine, we'd think nothing about the future but electricity; for others, static.

I all of a sudden remember something Jewel wrote on the sleeve of the cover of her first album Pieces of You. She said, "What we call human nature is in actuality human habit." If I were to rephrase that, it would come off something like this: What we call human nature is actually, nothing more than, human habit. I think the "nothing more" is so important because it puts down this feeling that we can use it as an excuse. I hate it when people just use it as an excuse. Our very nature as human beings is that we can reason above animals and not have to go down to our baser instincts. We rise above the level of animals. Yet we continue to act like animals, just to a more sophisticated degree. We have better excuses and reasons for it. And this saddens me.

Fuck it! It depresses me. We look around and we don't see heroes anymore. They don't exist. That's why we love movies and books and songs so much. It shows us the world as it could've been. Not how it really is.

I just watched The Insider recently. I was crying. The sacrifices Jeffrey Wyngarde (I don't know if I spelled Russell Crowe's character's name correctly) made to make the world a better place. And the character of Al Pacino, the sacrifices his character made to keep his integrity and his honour and his belief in his duty to make what should be public information accessible to the public.

I was crying at the nature of good and evil among human beings. Sometimes, I just see animalism everywhere I look. I hear it in the stories we tell each other during drinks and night outs. And we laugh because it is funny but also because we know it's real. Sometimes we get shocked. Sometimes we tell our own story. We are still animals. Except we just articulate better and the ability to reason has given us the excuses we need to continue living our lives without guilt.

Maybe to inhabit one moment so completely and fully is something we need to do as a race, as a species. Then we can just look at ourselves, a compilation of past events and actions, and a potential for something greater and truly ask ourselves what it is we want this world to become.

God! How depressing... To think of these things several days before the New Year.

No... I have not been well. Maybe physically, I've been getting better. But emotionally, I think I might be seeing the point of no return. It has always been further than the horizon, for me. But I think I'm getting desperate, I'm breaking down. It is so sad. I'm so sad.

Happy New Year.

But then the dove of hope began its downward slope
And I believed for a moment that my chances
Were approaching to be grabbed
But as it came down near, so did a weary tear
-I thought it was a bird, but it was just a paper bag
-- Paper Bag by Fiona Apple

I found myself sick yesterday. As in, joints-painful, mouth-dry, body-hurting sick. I couldn't think straight, my bones, my flesh, everything was so cold... I just wanted to die. After two and a half weeks of going out, picking everybody up, bringing them to my house or my friend's house, drinking and staying up until 4 in the morning and then bringing everyone home, my body finally gave up. It didn't want anymore. It couldn't take anymore.

Instead of using medicines, I have a better remedy to that sort of thing. I took a very hot shower, then covered myself up with layers of clothing - socks, jockey shorts, boxers then pajamas, two shirts and a ski cap and then went to bed with 4 blankets. I slept from 9 pm and woke up at 12 in the afternoon the following day. I woke up drenched. Completely, absolutely drenched. The smell of sweat was all over me. But I felt better. All the toxins were out of my body. My body also needed the rest, so I'm doing better.

I just had too much fun. How foolish of me. I want to be a hedonisist but I forgot that one of my biggest rules in my life (for myself) is: moderation in all things.

Moderation in all things. How deceptively simple. If only man wasn't so easily tempted and swayed...

How strange to be spending Christmas with a friend I've met only 2 weeks ago and waiting for friends to come over. My family is in Bacolod except for my brother and his wife. But they spent Christmas Eve with my sister-in-law's family. Tonight, they'll be spending it with us.

How funny to be spending Christmas and receiving great and fantastic gifts, messages of love and cheer and wanting to give it all up for just one thing. Someone's understanding. I still have so much to give. I still have so much to offer. I'm not yet exactly dried up.

I've been so preoccupied with other things lately. The biggest question in my life right now: to improve my life, I have to leave all that I've been working for for the past 3 or 4 years; the life I've led for the past 3 or 4 years. How does one find the strength to let go of that which he loves so much. It's not harming anyone but myself, this love. And so there seems no real reason to give it up.

Sometimes I think that I was built this way, this ability to give unconditional love, and so I must honour the way I was made. I should just keep on giving.

These are the things that are in my mind on Christmas day.

Merry Christmas to all of you and may you get all that you want from this day on.

I feel loved and I am happy. There is no better feeling than this. I thank God for making the Elusive Bliss something so transient and temporary. Otherwise, if it were not for the moments of sadness, these feelings of blue, I'd never know what it would be like to feel it, this happiness, this thrill, this excitement. I'm glad it is not forever but something that comes back and forth. Going and then coming back.

I have made a sort of decision... I've sort of decided to go back to the world of the 9 to 5. Two of my new good friends have decided to get jobs while they sort out their lives and finish their school at the same time. They want to be independent and move out from their families. And yet, they still plan on saving up so that we can have some sort of exciting out of town trip. I was humbled by such courage, bravery, strength. I wanted my life of comfort and luxury. This whole "freelance, bohemian, artsy lifestyle" has been nothing more than a burden to my family, to myself. It has been for my convenience.

I spoke my cousin who is a doctor and she told me that a Medical Representative is actually not a 9 to 5 job. As long as you meet your quota and take out the doctors once in a while, you're fine. There is a lot of driving around and meeting up with people. You have to dress well and keep on smiling. Sometimes, there is sales talk as you try to convince doctors to try out the medicine or drug that you are representing. I said to myself, "okay, as long as the money is good."

I've decided to pay off all my debts. I cannot keep on living my life working hard looking for my next work. I should be working hard on whatever job I'm doing and just do it. I need a regular pay check. I need to help out my family. Anyway, I keep saying that I can write anytime. Anytime I want. So there should be no problems, right? I can still write and publish while doing this job that is 9 to 5 but not exactly...

Maybe I can do this for 2 to 3 years and take up my Masters at the same time and then eventually get my Masters and then do it for another year or so and then when my debts are all paid off and my bank account is stable and big, I can quit and go back to teaching. Then I can live the life I've always wanted.

I've let go of modeling, really. I'm too comfortable and I love my luxuries. I will never get the rock-hard abs and the defined body that I so desire. I'll never get the clear skin and never smile for pay. I've just been fooling myself. I'll still go to VTRs and stuff but it's over, really. I no longer have the drive to go for something that does not want me or that I cannot work hard for. After all, I should only ask for the things I can have.

I've also let go of acting. As much as I'd love to act and play difficult roles, I'm quite one-dimensional as an actor. I need experience to be a good actor and I'm not doing enough acting in the meantime to get there. To get to where I want to be. If I were in London or in the United States, I could probably do some community theatre and get better. I could get really good. But I don't want to leave my country just yet.

I should only ask for the things I can have. And right now, what I need is a life that will help my family. We are on hard times. The economy is not doing us any good. Our resources have almost completely depleted. I cannot just think of myself. I do not live alone. That is not my life style.

Maybe one day I can achieve just one of my dreams. Maybe I will survive just writing books and stories and poems and maybe songs... Maybe. But reality has sunk in. This is not the time for me. This is the time for making a steady, stable groundwork for a home, for a future. I keep trying to reach the heights but realise all the steps I'm taking are three or four steps in the air and they fall to the ground with my weight. I should build the steps below first. I think that is what I should do.

*sigh*

What are we doing here/ I've seen this place before/ And I want more. -- More, Tara MacLean

Maybe a germ of a poem, I'm going to let it rest for awhile until I decide what to do with this:

I've slept on so many stairs that I know where they all go; where they will lead us to. Everything in this world is up or down, anyway. The answer to that question is easy. The harder question is what I was doing there? I was waiting for love to begin. It can't be found in staircases but it might be found at the end of the steps.

This is a spiral down again. I can feel it. Today, December 16, 2003, the Horoscope reads as such for the Piscean: Today is a 7 -- In case you haven't figured it out, your friends love you for who you are. You'd like to give them everything they want, but don't get yourself deep into debt.

I think it's too late. The collector has come to collect the unpaid for bills and I've given all I have. And I still owe him much. But I still have much to give. How strange? This won't end unless I end it. And it isn't that I don't know how. But as Sarah McLachlan sings in her song Do What You Have To Do: "I don't know how to let you go."

I tried writing a poem once about how useless it is to feel alone because all we have to do is listen to songs and we'd know that someone has felt the same way we do before. In fact, that person has put the exact words in my mind and put it to music. Damn them! Damn them for being older and wiser and more talented, to turn their pain and anguish and frustration into something beautiful. I don't feel beautiful and I don't feel anything I do is beautiful. Not anymore, not lately.

Many people have said, "Wanggo, I don't know what I'd do without you." And some of these people have upped and left. Some of these people leave and then come back to say those words again and then leave once more. It has happened over and over again. I am inclined to change my "occupation" to professional doormat, freelance confidant. But if I do that in my friendster account, my brother's testimonial would become moot as it refers to my occupation as "Media Whore." I can't do that to him now, can I?

Jesus Christ! It's just a testimonial! He can change it... It doesn't matter because I know exactly what he is talking about... But I won't change it for him.

People always call and text and wanting me to make them feel better or for me to do something for them. One of the most over-used phrases in the English language (only applicable for me, mind you) is "Wang, can you do me a favour?" Sometimes I wonder what it is that I project that people think I'm responsible and hardworking. What is that I project that people think I have nothing else in the world to do but do things for them? I will admit that there is one person whom I sincerely project that image to. Make that two people, and I sincerely mean it. One uses it for all it's worth and he should, after all, I make that promise often. The other has just met me, he doesn't know exactly what that offer entails and how encompassing my words can be. Everybody else just tries to take what they can and hope that they can take some more.

Yeah, I don't run out, I'm never empty. I can keep giving and giving and giving. I can give until they're sick of me and they don't want me to give anymore. They will shun me and shove me aside and tell me to get lost, you pathetic loser. And I have. I know this because it has happened before. And there is this great bitterness in my heart that is slowly turning into this demon that is corrupting me, trying to change me and I'm trying to let it change me. I want to change into some selfish little creature that just takes and takes. But I don't know how to take. I don't know how to grab and be selfish. I want the demon to change me because I can't do it on my own. It's against my very nature. I'm water, source of life. I flow, I do not burn and eat with a hunger to exist. I adjust, I do not stand grounded and form the shape. I spread outwardly in all directions, I do not go where I please in haste.

I'm used and hurt and pained and suffering. I'm complicated and dramatic and sensitive. I'm broken. And yet I can go on. I can continue to give. It is when I am made whole again, it is when I am taken cared of that I can no longer do my duties as a giving person. Is that why I do not try so hard to find love? Is that why nobody is trying to love me, to fulfill my needs? Is that why I am left alone, surrounded by couples?

You will never find another person like me, I can promise you that.

Now the life I see is so much brighter What makes it so One can touch another In such a way We under-estimate the beauty And the power of one of one of one We weren't meant to be alone Though alone this life we leave and enter In existence of the flesh We all need to feel and a hand that's tender One hand one heart can effect another In such a way We underestimate the beauty And the power of one of one of one -- Power of One, by Merril Bainbridge

Don't you write it down remember this in your head/ don't take a picture, remember this in your heart/ don't leave a message talk to me face to face -- Dead Man's Hill by the Indigo Girls (written by Amy Ray)

It's been a while because some people refuse to stop downloading freaking porn in the shared computer and the whole system keeps crashing because it can't take the amount of filth that is download here on a daily basis. After everything that has happened to him, you'd think that he would have learned something, about karma or stuff... But no, he keeps downloading that smut and puts it in our computer despite the fact he knows how it slows down the system and screws up with the operating whatever blah-blahs and helps out with the annoying pop-ups. I hate him. I wish he'd leave this house already. He is an inconsiderate swine.

Well, Survivor: Pearl Islands and I was sad to see that Darrah did not win the title of Sole Survivor but am very glad that Sandra did and am very glad that good questions and comments were made during the final Tribal Council. It was a very satisfying season of Survivor (in opposition to a horrible season in Thailand [where Helen Glover should have won] and Marquesas [where Kathy Vavrick O'Brien] should have took home the title) and proves that the producers have gotten back on track with their casting. Rupert, Burton, John, Darrah, Andrew, Tijuana, Sandra, Christa were fabolous people to watch. I have yet to see Survivor: Amazon but will plan to. After all, if I want to join Survivor, I'd have to know all the mistakes and be prepared for whatever twists they send me, right?

Yes, I want to be one of the 16 castaways vying for the prize of sole Survivor. Honestly, I could care less for the 1 million dollars. Sure, it would make my life so much easier and I'd know exactly how I'd want to spend that money, but more than anything in the world, I'd want to play the game and see if I really have what it takes to outwit, outlast and outplay. I really think I have what it takes.

Time's have been very weird for me lately. Oh God... I really don't know how to begin. My friend has hit a new revelation and his pain and new found love has thrown me into a rollercoaster of my own personal, private demons but of course, my friend goes first. Without time left for myself, I found myself spiralling down and down into some sort of internal limbo that I don't know exactly what to do anymore. There are certain number of people that I want to see and interact with and a whole bunch of others who I don't want to see for various reasons. One of them being, I don't want them to see me like this.

It's just too weird, even for me, that I take it one day at a time and just push myself to whatever heights I can achieve. After all, I'm not down and out 24 hours of the day and seven days of the week. So the little moments of bliss that I achieve, I hold on to it and bring it as far as I can take it. And honestly, trying to enjoy a moment more than it is willing to be enjoyed is quite harrowing and difficult. It is tiring. And I am very tired, at the moment.

I have had a lot of loss this year round. Lot's of things that were meant to be did not push through for me. I am just a big old sack of disappointment. And the big 2-5 is coming up, quarter of a century old and I don't feel like I've accomplished much, or maybe that's just because I'm in my downslide at the moment.

It's difficult. It's weird and I don't feel like I know as much as I usually do. But my best friend still turns to me for help and it seems that he is satisfied with whatever help I offer, so I know I'm still operating at usual conditions. I just don't feel so spankin' brand new, is all...

The Rocketman flies through the air with precious cargo. Bringing some precious minerals from Earth to Alpha Centauri system C-31. The Rocketman takes a look at the fine things and wants it for himself, just take a quick dash to Neptune and stay there and hide out for a few days with the "stuff" but no... that's not the Rocketman at all. He is never selfish. As much as he wants to be, he knows what must be done. And he will do it. Even if all he wants to do is taste...

"So what is love then is it dictated or chosen/ does it sing like a hymn of a 1000 years or is it just pop emotion/ and if it ever was here and it left does it mean it was never true/ and to exist it must elude is that why I think these things of you/ I could go crazy on a night like tonight/ when summer's beginning to give up her fight/ and every thought's a possibility/ and voices are heard but nothing is seen/ why do you spend this time with me?/ maybe an equal mystery" -- Mystery by the Indigo Girls (written by Emily Saliers)

All I know / Is everything is not as it's sold / But the more I grow the less I know / And I have lived so many lives / Though I'm not old / And the more I see, the less I grow / The fewer the seeds the more I sow / Then I see you standing there / Wanting more from me / And all I can do is try / Then I see you standing there / Wanting more from me / And all I can do is try - "Try" performed and written by Nelly Furtado

It's a beautiful album, Nelly Furtado's Folklore. Especially Try. Of course, I relate to the song very well. I feel it circulating through my veins whenever I play it. I sing along despite the fact that I still don't have my voice. It hasn't completely returned since last Saturday. All I can do is try, really. That's all I can do.

I told myself that I should start taking myself more seriously, taking what I promised for myself - to ask only for the things which I can have. But apparently, deep down inside, I still want to have the things that do not want me. I still want things that, maybe I do not deserve. Or maybe, I still want things that I am not meant to have. Of all the seven deadly sins, Envy is my greatest companion. As a good friend told me, "The greatest cause of sorrow is comparison." How brilliant. How simple, yet brilliant. And I'm so competative. I'm so needy. I'm so envious.

There was this Book of Birthdays that is supposed to be able to tell your personality just on the day of your birth. On mine, it says "Day of Relativity." Apparently, people born on the same day that I was discovers him/herself in his/her relationships with other people. People born on the "day of relativity" figures out the world based on his/her own opinions and then compares it with the opinions, views and perspectives of others. That is why I am such a social person. I fit that description to a tee. I always ask questions, even if they are inappropriate. I always want to know how people feel or think about any particular thing. Then I compare it with my own and find out what are the differences, what are the similarities. I do not trust my own personal views on any one thing. It must always be seconded by another opinion. I can never figure things out alone.

But for some strange reason, I give pretty good advice to people who need it. Well, at least that I what I've been told. Well, people say I'm a good listener. And I know how to make them feel better about their problems, about themselves. It's just that I can see all the sides of any one arguement. I think about other people and not just myself or the person I'm talking to. Well, I usually do. I think I do.

But for someone who is so suspicious of his own opinions and perspectives, I seem like the kind of person who is ready to dispense them to any willing audience. How strange... I now feel more schizophrenic than ever.

I've been so busy lately. I've been so busy enjoying my own drama. Yes, something dramatic has stepped in once more in my life and I have to deal with it. I wish I could just blurt it all out here but I can't. There are other people involved and I must respect them as well. Let's just say, once again in my life, I've given up something I so wanted for someone else's happiness. But then again, it's not as if that thing I wanted really belonged to me. I don't think I deserve that thing. If it could, it didn't want me.

They never do, the things I want.

And that's all that's been in my head for the past few days. I've been throwing people off and trying desperately to distract myself from it and the more I try, the more it raises its ugly head. It faces me and I have no defense from its sharp teeth that tends to tear me into pieces day in and day out. The scars I carry are few, the ones that can be seen anyway. But deep inside, I'm bleeding constantly. I leave a trail of blood whereever I go, it seeps at such minute amounts from my pores and I feel a little crimson. I'm bleeding. No one sees.

Lately, I've found great company with one of my good friends who knows about all my troubles. He's my cold hard slap of reality. My anchor, at the moment, and I truly, truly appreciate his intelligence, his honesty, his sincerity. Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to detach myself from this world and just live by myself, totally for myself. I'm a door mat, quite the very opposite of my good friend. But I don't want to build walls around me. I'm scared. I might not be able to get out.

I'm sad. I've been sad for a while now. But I can't talk about it fully. I can only hint and suggest and insinuate. This world, after all is not mine. And my words can hurt and damage and break things. And some of these things I wish to have for myself, whole and complete.

I hardly recognize myself it's such a strange thing / To find another woman walking in my blue jeans / I've come so far and I've been so long away from home / I'm like a photograph whose image is still changing / The letter that I never sent to you explaining / All I want is a place for my heart to belong -- "Strange Thing" by Sophie B. Hawkins

From today, I've decided I only want what I can have rather than ask for things that I cannot acquire or, as things may seem, were never meant to be mine. It's a motto I'm trying to make myself believe in; something that will help ground me and keep me sane. After all, despite reality's hard, cold slap I still believe that maybe, maybe those things could be mine.

Great party at my place. Met new people. All great. All wonderful and we all had a great feel, great vibe. Things passed around like electricity. Lots of new material for my poems and my essays and my fiction. And the one I want doesn't want me. In fact, the one I want wants somebody else. Someone close to me.

In moments like these, on one hand, pure bliss, joy, pleasure and on the other, jealousy and this overwhelming feeling of worthlessness. But hey, you can't win `em all as they say. Not that I've really won in the relationship department. It was never my strong suit. On one particular senti moment, I said aloud (while my other friend was beside me) "Will I ever get together with anyone?" He just put it very simply: why do you have to? We're fine like this.

We're fine like this. I guess that this world has its parts made out for us and my part was always to play the trustworthy bestfriend. The sidekick. The constant companion. Hell, I do it well. I have so put other people before me. Put my personal needs and wants on the back end of the line going forward. I'm continually working to advance, develop and grow. But if someone I care about needs something, I drop everything for him/her. It's something I've been doing for the longest time now. I've gotten really good at it. And since I've got such a strong personality (I'd like to think), I am the most interesting side-kick in the world.

At least, above all, I'm just as interesting as the leads. I'm just as interesting as everybody else, in fact more interesting than the regular joe. I can be sure of that. Not many people can do the things I do. Not many people think the way I think. Not many people can immolate themselves in public like I do and enjoy every shred of it. I wear my scars openly because I'm not afraid of history. I may not learn from it, but it doesn't hurt me. It cannot hurt me. And not many people can say that. I can look back at all the things I did and I can say "yeah, I did that. I felt like I had to at the time."

In the end, I guess, it's all about passion... How much do you have and how much are you willing to use. I use every single bit of it in my life, on everything - big or small, bring it on! I can handle it. With more passion than any Supreme Being intended for use. It's all that I am. This burning passion within me is all I have left.

So yeah, I guess I'm fine with who I am. I am fine as I am. I'll start working on that. And until then, I'll just be asking for the things I can have.

Excuse me

But I just have to
explode

explode this body
off me

wake-up tomorrow
brand new

a little tired

but brand new

Pluto by Bjork

How strange. I had the whole day to myself. Yup, the whole day was just about being myself, totally alone with myself. For someone who values connection and interaction as much as I do, it's strange for me to just enjoy being alone in self-contained solitary confinement.

It wasn't at all voluntary, of course. Someone texted me and asked me if I wanted to accompany him today at the mall. It was a tempting offer. But I had to refuse because I was waiting for a pick-up delivery for my Dad and then I remembered there was an important call that I had to wait for at around the same time as the offer. So I had to stay and in a way, it was its own kind of bliss. I thought with all that time I could get to writing or do some more reading but it turned out, I just ended up pacing and just thinking like I used to. I was just absorbing beautiful music and just being myself. Recollecting and remembering what it was like to not have to project an image. I could've kept on the clothes I was wearing when I woke up but thank God I'm quite addicted to taking showers that I still did anyway.

I've been communicating, interacting and connecting with people for the past few days; maybe even weeks. But this time round, it was just great to have time to think and not pretend.

I had good company, though. I had Bjork and Stevie Nicks and Dido and Vienna Teng. Annie Lennox showed up and sang a couple of songs and Milla sang a song too. So many singers today and I got a chance to listen to them. Some are old stuff that I haven't heard in quite a while. I'm pretty impressed with my collection of songs. I'm not the greatest afficionado of music, but I'd like to think I come pretty close to one.

So sorry to everyone who thought I was being difficult or whatnot. I just enjoyed my solo flight for today. The wind and the cold was all perfect. I got to wear my tye-dyed (spelling?) pants (that are now my pajamas) and a lose shirt and the wind forced it upon my body for effect. I would grip the door sill to the balcony for mood moments. If only there was a camera! Ha Ha Ha

I think I got to read one really short story by Haruki Murakami. I think I'll read about two or three more before I retire the book for a while and go on with The Cold Mountain. I got the urge to write but instead, I just read my old work and some new stuff and just trying to determine what exactly does my writer's voice sound like and how should I tweak it to make it more distinct. Figure out what I should do to make it more personal. More me. I wanted to write and instead just found myself enjoying the freedom.

Sorry for the inconvenience but the Rocketman was just taking a solo flight. Our regular flight schedule will begin shortly after this... Thank you for your understanding and patience.

Damn! I was flying so fast, I didn't notice that Star System 14.321 in the Vega system had already white dwarfed (if there is such a term). Missed out on it. I guess I was just too excited to see one that I didn't notice that it didn't go through on the scheduled date. Oh well... Such is life on a long journey through space.

I'm currently reading Haruki Murakami's The Elephant Vanishes, his collection of short stories. I've already read his Hard-boiled Wonderland and the End of the World and though that was fascinating and intriguing, it was just a little too strange for me. I've always been fascinated with Asian culture and art, especially with their literature and their film because I always felt they took as much time as they needed to take. If they wanted to go slowly, they would. If they needed to hurry, that's exactly what they would do. There was no formula to it. It was just the art (or the story) taking place on its natural speed.

I've read three stories in the collection and they were all quite intriguing. I find them better written than the novel. He really is a very interesting read. I'm currently going to go through this as rest from the Greek themed books that I read before I go off into Cold Mountain. It's supposed to be a great book and I would love to read it before the movie comes out. There's always a certain sense of pride in being able to say that you've read the book before the movie is released into view. Call it an intellectual superiority complex. Call it whatever you want. I just prefer it.

I'm currently enjoying Mandy Moore's latest album Coverage. I have always been a great big fan of many of the artists she has covered - Joan Armatrading, Joni Mitchell, Cat Stevens and Carly Simon. Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters has always been a great, great song and though I don't think she has done a great remake of the songs, she has done a wonderful cover version. She doesn't turn the song into hers. I mean, her version of Joni Mitchell's Help Me sounds pretty much the same, different instruments and all, but it is still a beautiful song and its great to hear her sing it. I don't know. I like Mandy Moore. I think she is a very wonderful artist and I'm just happy of many of the songs that are there. If anything, I can't stop listening to her version of Drop the Pilot and I've never heard of The Whole of the Moon before this album and I think it is just a gorgeous song!

It's strange, I'm in an internet cafe again and I'm writing this entry here. There's always something so strange being in a public place using public access to write something so personal. It's not as if this is private since it's up in the net for everyone to read, but the idea that it is being written in a space that is so public is unnerving. Actually, it is something quite exhilirating. I feel like a spy writing something that is forbidden. I want to finish this up as quickly as possible so that nobody can look over my shoulder to see what I'm doing. There's this little cat and mouse game being played in my head. I can't help but smile.

Well... I'll just keep circling around. Maybe I'll catch that star turning into itself and becoming what? A blackhole? A white dwarf. Maybe I'll see a supernova and just be so captivated by its beauty, I'll tell my 'baby' to hold on for a few minutes. I'd like to be engulfed.

I'm not in love, but I'm open to persuasion. East or west? Where's the best for romancing? With a friend, I can smile but with a lover I can hold my head back and really laugh, really laugh. Thank you. You took me dancing, across the floor, cheek-to cheek. With a lover I can really move, I can really dance. I can really move, I can really dance. If I can feel the sun in my eyes or the rain in my face, tell me why can't I feel love? - Love and Affection by Joan Armatrading

We've got smooth sailing on today's flight. The Rocketman is grateful that you're taking this journey through space with him. We hope you are enjoying the ride. It's smooth sailing today, ladies and gentlemen. Smooth all the way home.

I've always been in love. With someone who just didn't feel that it was necessary to reciprocate. I'm used to giving up everything for these people (at one time or another). I could never let go or fall in love with somebody else unless it was transferred to some other person. There is that physics rule that states: Energy can never be lost, it can only be changed to one form or another. Well, I'm paraphrasing, it is something like that. I felt that love was the same. But currently, I'm not in love with anybody. And I wonder where the love has gone? In what form has it shifted to? Maybe it's directed towards myself. I don't know. But it is fun to not be in love. To just go through day to day with just thinking of the things you want to think about and not be a slave to somebody else's concerns.

I get interested in people, sure. That is pretty much normal. But I don't get obsessive, at least...

I've been thinking about doing some sort of exercise or physical regiment. I can't rely on dancing as the only form of exercise I can do. I mean, I can't do it all the time even if I want. I think gyms are cool except that I'm going to get bored. I can't really focus on my fantasies and I can't really focus on my work-out. I'm thinking of taking badminton with my friend and I think sports is better. I can really focus on something. I've never played badminton, though. So it will be fun, I guess.

I really want to take up surfing and kickboxing. I think those would be really fun and will help out in making my physical appearance improve or develop. It's so strange that people impress such a deep set notion on cuts, muscles and definitions. There is a sort of new standard now. You are either thin, fat, toned, defined. It's strange to me. I am as superficial as the next person and rely a lot on someone's physical appearance to make judgements (thank God I'm not the kind of person who imposes those judgements on the people I meet, though) but to categorize it as simply fat, thin, toned or defined is just waaaay too much for me.

I don't like boxes or categories or labels. I don't like complete definitions. I want to be a poet, an artist. Metaphor is my greatest tool. Symbolisms too. When something can mean another thing, it becomes perfect. Implications, connotations and insinuations become tools for communication. It makes things deeper and sophisticated. So I don't want to just put someone in a particular category and just say "that's that." It's not fair to that person's potentials to grow, change and develop.

But I'm still jumping the band wagon and want to look healthy. It's not that I don't want to be healthy but I enjoy my vices. They are part of becoming a hedonist. Pleasure in all its forms. I like smoking (well, I like the way it makes me look), I like drinking (I like the social aspect of it), I like sleeping late (sometimes, the solitude or the...) and the other stuff that I do. I'm sorry, but life is too short to be a vegetarian or to forego red meat (steak, medium-rare, yummy!) or to miss out on some of the fun that happens at night, like dancing in a club.

And it's December already. It's cliche, I know, but I can still remember the year starting out. How strange that time really moves so quickly when you turn around and look back. But when you look ahead, it seems so slow. This is the relativity of time that Einstein was talking about. Well, I hope it is because that means I understood what it means. Otherwise, I just missed out on it.

Read Einstein's Dreams by Alan Lightman. Wonderful book. Quite short but very insightful. Very clever. Very terse, very visual and very thought-provoking. Lovely, lovely book.