The Flight of the Rocketman

Come to the orchard in spring.
There is light and wine, and sweethearts
among the pomegranate flowers;

If you do not come, these do not matter,
If you do come, these do not matter.
-- Come to the Orchard in Spring, Jellaludin Rumi

I danced all night... For the first time, in like, forever, I went out again and allowed myself to get lost in the dance. My body became every note that I heard. The music took over my basic motor functions and I was just a continouos spasm constantly gyrating and thrusting and swaying to the beat. I was possessed...

I keep forgetting how fucking wonderful it is to just dance. In that moment, all things are forgotten. There is only "now" when I dance...

I have decided to be happy. I have decided to not be a whining disgrace to the human race. I have decided to make a conscious effort to enjoy myself and the life that I have been given. I have decided to not want so much and to embrace and be grateful for what I have.

And if any moment I feel that I will falter... Then you know where to find me... In the middle of a dance floor somewhere; possessed by the music.

Dance, as if no one is watching...

And the music keeps going on and it makes my life complete...  I'm flying away...  -- Flying Away, performed by Moony

A loneliness that only one person can fulfill?  Really now, if we sat down and actually think about it, is this a fact?  A truth?  I think it is merely not having something that you want badly.  It is a yearning, a longing.

But, in my opinion, I've always believed in the cliche that anything we need in this world, we can find it within ourselves.  That in truth, we really do not need people...  It may sound cold and cruel, but truly, we can merely interact with people to get the basic needs that we require to sustain life but to actually need to socialize?  to actually need to be with someone?  I don't think so.  We constantly crave and yearn for that someone, yet we continue going through life, working, paying bills and watching movies.  We still listen to music, eat, sleep and crap.  We don't need people.  We have ourselves and that is enough.

But yes, when we have someone, that is one of the greatest feelings in the world.  In fact, it is the arguably the best feeling in the world.  But the joy, the elation of being in a relationship is actually gained from the affirmation that we are someone worthy of love.  That we are deserving of love.  And the truth is, so many people in this world loves us.  But the person we love is the standard in which the truth [we are worthy of love] becomes reality within our minds.  That is why if our love is not reciprocated, we feel sad, depressed and lonely. 

Everything is really simple.  Yes, go out and say "hi" to someone and if the first meeting is enough to kindle a spark of any kind; you can spend the rest of 3 weeks just trying to figure out what makes he/she tick.  And it does not even have to lead to sex, to partnership, to love; a new friend can be just as engaging.  After a while, you learn so much new things about others and about yourself.  It is a powerful sense of affirmation: I'm interesting enough to get to know.  But of course, it is the mirror effect: we only feel that way because we find the other person interesting.

The truth is, we are really trying to justify our existence in this world: through love and friendship; through relationships.  Man is truly a social creature.  Because if he weren't, he'd be just like any other animal.

So to be solitary, to seek solitude amongst all others is a good thing: get to know thyself well and fully.  But once you know yourself, then go out and share it.  Affirm it and validate it if you must but by all means, go out there and connect.  Because there is so much to know, so much to learn and so much growing waiting to happen.

Right now, I want to whine.  I want to groan.  I want to sigh.  I want to share my anger with myself for not having the strength, the confidence to share myself.  So, of course, I feel un-affirmed; invalid.  If I had only said "hello." 

But I won't go there.  I refuse.  I want to be happiness and sunshine...

I'm flying away...

 

Politics is Hollywood for ugly people... --  as texted to me by my Dad

I really love my Dad...   I know it isn't true, there are some good-looking politicians out there; but some.  Very little, actually...  He He He

I'm really getting sick of myself.  I'm done with whining and complaining and throwing sadness around.  I'm getting myself down.  I don't want to be the blueman (I don't think blue is really my colour) so I'm trying out happiness for a change.  It's tough, it ain't easy but one thing's for sure: anything is better than being depressed.

Sometimes I'll falter.  Sometimes I'll waver.  Maybe, sometimes, I'll think of that person who makes me spin.  Maybe, sometimes, I'll drown in the sorrows of longing and yearning...  But then, don't we all sometimes?  Don't we have to sometimes?

Kris asked me (Hi Kris) what I thought of an article he read that said writers have the loneliest profession.  What do I think?

I think being a toll operator in the South Super Highway is pretty lonely.  I think being a night guard in a condo or some school is a lonely job.  The editor of my show gets pretty lonely sometimes when he is at the editing studio from 1 am to 5 am working on the segments and features.  When I'm done, I go home so he works alone.  And I'm sure it gets pretty lonely. 

I don't think writers have a monopoly on loneliness.  After all, they don't work all the time, they go out and have fun.  I don't hold regular hours.  I work 3 or 4 times a week, sometimes only 1 or 2 hours per session...  Often times, I am reading at home, listening to music or watching a movie.  I hang out with friends whenever I can.  I sometimes feel lonely, but not because I'm a writer...  Because I do, sometimes.

Writers may feel lonely because "no one understands them" but that's bullshit.  The act of writing is showing that you understand other people.  The fact that they read and love certain books and poems shows that somebody out there understands them.  Loneliness is relative.  But in the end, I don't think writing makes you lonely.  I don't think writing cuts you off from the rest of society.  If anything, writing connects you more fully.  When someone has read your work, someone you don't even know, the elation felt is amazing.  How can you feel lonely? 

I've had people write reviews of my work on their blogs, people have talked about things I've written.  People I don't even know.  What right do I have to be lonely?

What right does anyone have to be lonely?  8 billion people in the world, who has a right to be lonely?  If you feel lonely, go and say "hi" to someone.  Eventually, someone is bound to say "hi" back...

But that's just my opinion...

A good traveler has no plans and is not intent on arriving...  -- Lao Tzu

I've been out of commission... working hard.  I was in Cebu, at the beautiful Shangri-La Mactan in Cebu and had no chance to truly immerse myself in the city or even in the resort because of all the work we had to do.  By the time we actually had free time, I just wanted to lie down and sleep.

Shangri-La Mactan is gorgeous.  The beach is right there, part of the resort and if only there was enough time, I would've been able to just jump into the water and enjoy.  I didn't even burn one bit.  No change in colour.  We ate well, though.  I always enjoy a good hotel buffet breakfast...

And then the short trip to Bohol was enjoyable.  If anything, the tarsiers were really cute.  They could fit on my hand.  They were wonderful.

Whatever the case maybe, traveling is always a wonderful experience.  It is the greatest way to learn...  It is the greatest way to see yourself, for soul-searching...  it allows you a new perspective in which to see yourself.

And love is like a journey, really.  You get there without plans and you don't really intend on arriving at your destination.  You are just happy on taking the journey.  Or that is the way it should be, right?

I've learned, in a strange new environment, watching the beauty of my surrounding and knowing that I won't have the time to experience it, really...  I learned that not all things are meant to be.  And as Bjork sings: It's not all up to you, it never really was...

And maybe letting go is an act of wisdom.  Maybe love isn't enough.  Maybe some beautiful things were only meant to be seen, viewed but not really touched...  not really enjoyed and experienced.

The sad lady sings her song and I dance along.  There is so much beauty around me that I cannot touch...  I am surrounded in it.  And it sweeps me away into dreams...

Sometimes the things you most wish for are not to be touched...  -- from Into the Woods (written by Stephen Sondheim)

And now some things change...  And I am lost in the woods and I walk in any direction, without regard to the dangers that lie in wait.  I am soldier now, working and working.  Writing has become my only salvation.  Work is my only respite and it gives me no joy though it is the things that make me feel real, it is the things that make me feel useful and worthy.

I've become the blue-man.  I've worn my shattered and torn heart on my sleeve.  Vultures fly down and pick at it; tear out pieces of it and bring it to the sky.

As much as I hate to admit it but I'm waiting now.  I'm merely waiting.  Sadness is in fashion.  Wanggo's autumn wear: melancholy, and a dirge.

I've become boring and depressing and a drag.  I still carry some of my wit but it is used in bitterness and strife.  I have not yet been abandoned by my friends; my company they still enjoy; but I fear how long that will last.

Eventually, I will wear everyone down.

Once in a while, right in the middle of an ordinary life, love gives us a fairy tale...  -- as texted by my Dad

And I am waiting to make my wish.  And maybe somewhere, the magic that I so desperately believe in; the magic that I have so much faith lives in this world will come to me and it will make things right.  It will make things how I believe they should be.

There is just so much magic.  I can see it.  I see it in other people.  I wait for it to come...  Maybe not from the person I am hoping it would come from; but from someone else, someone I don't even know; someone who will tear down the clay feet I've sculpted for myself.

The wind smells different...  There is something in the air...  Or is it just my imagination?  Is it my faith and hope, flying away in the wind...

Humility and inner peace go hand in hand. The less compelled we are to prove ourselves to others, the easier it is to feel peaceful inside. -- as texted to me by my Dad

Just saw Spiderman 2. Lovely film, really. Great action and lots of nice touching moments. I think I know why Spiderman truly affects many people and it has become such a popular and well-loved movie.

It is because we all feel like Spiderman.

Sure, Spiderman has all these great powers. Sure, Spiderman is charming, funny, tough and for many even, attractive. But, unlike The Amazing X-Men or Superman, Spiderman is not all-powerful. Behind the mask lies a young boy desperately trying to survive the horrible world that comes to consume and destroy all its heroes. Instead of protecting them, nurturing them and being grateful for all the help that they've given us, this world has a tendency to put our heroes down, ask for the rent, demand too much of their time and expect them to pay bills and live a regular life as well.

Deep down inside, we all feel like Spiderman: like we have some special power or gift that we can share or are already sharing. Like Spiderman, we get a lot of bad press and though there are some who appreciate us for what we do, we still don't feel we get the full credit of that which we accomplish (maybe).

So unlike Superman who is successful both as a hero and as a human being; unlike the X-Men who has a rich benefactor to take care of their regular needs; all they seem to need to focus on is their super-hero lives -- it is Spiderman who we most relate to, because just like him, we have to be the heroes in our fantasies and in our dreams and the regular joe, the human being in our everyday lives.

If you think happiness is all about sunshine... nobody has told you about dancing in the rain... -- as texted to me by my Dad

Yeah, I do feel special. Sometimes, I feel like I'm the most important person in the world. But how else should I feel when all this time, all I know is what I feel and how I think? I can only focus on my thoughts and as much as I ask others for their opinion, for their time, for... whatever... they will always be in comparison with my views, filtered by my experiences. We are all the main character of our stories (even if we don't feel that way sometimes, as I often do) and this is where our feeling special lies.

And so what if it is just some perspective, just some point of view? We are all special inside and we have to believe in it to be so. You are only as special as you believe you are. And the moment you believe it to be true, then spread it out and begin to act.

Nobody can deny the strength and truth of action whereas words are always on target for scrutiny.

Yeah, well, that's my Spiderman analysis. Why does everybody like Spiderman? Because, in essence, he is us. Just your ordinary person with extraordinary gifts; which can be said for everybody if you just really get to know people.

So did I like the movie? Yes, yes I did. Because I know that I'm not the only one who is giving up my dreams and hopes to share my gifts with the world. As Aunt May said in the movie, "I believe there is a hero inside all of us..."

Yes, even me. Even you.

Love might be great but why lose your head? -- Crash and Burn, Sheryl Crow

And then it was revealed. How the Spearmint reacted, well, I don't know... It was strange. I told the Spearmint how I felt: at one point in time, I fell in love with you; if I've been acting strange, maybe this will explain, this is the reason why. The response?

"I'm really sorry if I hurt you, but I just want you to know that I'm happy because I met you. God bless Wangs!"

And where do I go from here? In a way, I told the Spearmint how I felt because I wanted some sort of change. Maybe, I wanted some sort of action to take place. If no reply of reciprocation was to be given, I could take it as some sign that I should let go and move on... I don't know what that answer means. My good friend said that it must be a sign, I should let go of the Spearmint.

But I was thinking... If I let go now, I don't think I'll ever want to fall in love again. I don't think I could handle it. Why can't I just focus on work and leave it at that?

I can bring you everything that floats into your mind... -- Anything But Down, Sheryl Crow

And to think that I could have given the world; I could give everything. Well, right now, I can't. Given to the amount of work I've been doing and the lack of resources on hand. People do not want to pay me on time; everything is on the waiting period. All this work and I don't feel any richer. Payments are making it on time but my bank should be getting bigger and bigger. After all, I had a commercial and a movie script that was finished. Where's the money? Where's the love? I really don't get it.

I don't think I have the strength to go through something like that again. Considering the fact that as much as I try, I cannot let the Spearmint go. I can't. I want to but I can't.

And am I stupid enough to wanna fall again? `Cause I've gotten used to the crash and burn... -- Crash and Burn, Sheryl Crow

Watched around 9 or 10 movies from Saturday night to Monday morning. In a way, that was one of the reasons for deciding to letting the Spearmint know how I feel. Saw a lovely movie called Beautiful Things. It was quite lovely. And I just said, "Fuck it! The Spearmint should know..."

At the same time, I feel like I want to give up everything, quit work and disappear for three weeks and just write. The inspiration to write has never been stronger after that. Saw beautiful movies, saw one of my favourite singers/songwriters Bjork on her one and only acting performance in 'Dancer in the Dark' and considering that I'm a fan; this is so not a biased opinion: she was really good.

But now, I'm lost in orbit. I'm spinning in the air as I'm floating... Floating and wondering what the hell happened, what did I do wrong this time? Wrong place? Wrong time? Wrong person?

Again and again and again... It always happens to me. I've quit smoking and alcohol and drugs. Maybe this time, I can quit on love.

I spent a year in the mouth of a whale... -- Riverwide, Sheryl Crow

There's a garden in my room
Would you like to take a look?
There are fascinating things you'll find there
And if you dare to come inside
There is nothing I will hide
Come to where there is sweet perfume
In the Garden in my Room
-- The Garden, written and performed Merril Bainbridge

Here I am again; I can feel my body losing out to malnutrition, lack of sleep and overwork. My body is giving up on me. I remember the days when I'd only get sick once a year. Sometimes, my immune system would be so strong, I wouldn't get sick at all in the whole year. I'd have a chronic cold or cough, but never a fever. I'd only get a fever once a year, if ever...

And now, I can feel it coming, I'm getting sick again. And it really doesn't matter because I still have to work. I still have to get these scripts out and send them over to my bosses. I still have to churn out words and make sure they get to where they have to go. I've been sleeping really late and waking up prematurely because I need to make a living. This is the living I've chosen for myself.

I'm not really complaining. I'm pissed off that my body is giving out on me. Now that I've quit smoking, alcohol and drugs; that's when my body has decided to go weak! What is this? Should I go back to smoking and drinking? Is that actual fuel to the fire? Or because I was a smoker and a drinker, bacteria couldn't survive living in my body and that's why I wouldn't get sick?

Who knows? All I know is that my body is giving out on me and it is not fair!

I can't stop now because I want to buy my own computer. That would be bliss, really... To be able to buy my own computer. That's what I want. I hope I can achieve that before the year ends. Now that would be so cool.

Soon, after the computer and after all this work; I'll be able to afford a grand vacation. Just for myself. Maybe, just by myself and have a chance to disappear into some beach wonderland and just enjoy being with myself. Read again (I haven't picked up a book in weeks!) and have some fruit shakes while basking under sunlight. That would be bliss... Getting dark and just enjoying not thinking about work. Just enjoying knowing there's money in the bank and the rent will be paid and I have two weeks to not think about work and just enjoy the fury of the sun and the calming powers of the surf and tide.

Right now, that is what I am working for. And maybe a heater in the house and of course, my computer.

What is for us does not pass by us... -- Siege of Blue Mountain (Elfquest), written by Wendy Pini

How strange, this driftwood floating on the sea, pushing back and forth with the tides against the shores... Will it settle there or just be carried back into the oceans, traveling like birds migrating to warmer climates? Are they some flotsam of a larger vessel, maybe some frigate or caravel bringing home treasures to eagerly awaited merchants?

And why am I so eager to pick them up when, here and now, they are nothing more but useless wood?

I have a memory... a beach in Quezon province called Atimonan where the water is knee high all the way into the horizon. I remember myself, a young child of 4, staring at a couple walking on water shin-high, tiny, almost the size of dolls and still, the water was shin-high. If I had imagination enough, I would think that I could reach Australia on foot by taking this route. Had I been so precocious; but I knew that at one point the water would just get deep and in one simple step, gone... everything would be gone.

But the beach was filled with shards of glass and driftwood. And hand-in-hand, my father and I would comb the beach in search of beautiful shards of glass and interesting looking driftwood. I didn't know why until we had reached home at the end of the weekend and my mother and father would make mobiles out of gorgeous coloured string, driftwood and shards of glass. They'd hang them and they'd be the most peculiar thing in the world to me -- and only because they were so lovely and I knew exactly where they came from. I knew its history; so it held no wonder, no magic, no mystery.

I'm much older now and I find myself picking up figurative driftwood and truth be told, have no talent to make them float on air on coloured string. I couldn't be all the more bothered with it.

What am I to do with it?

On the phone, my good, good friend Jaypee and I talked. We caught up on times that we have lost not having worked side-by-side as we used to... We are both earning our wages on the same show but in different hours. It seems I no longer have any reason to go to the shoots, or so my producer says. She just wants me churning out episodes from the editing room with the footage the rest of the crew gets. But I can't churn out episodes because she keeps getting in the way, one way or the other.

But play catch-up, we did and somehow I've come across the decision to stake my claim and to let known my feelings to the Spearmint. After all, I've been chasing the Spearmint's affections for so long and have done nothing in terms of collection. It isn't as if the situation is any better... It can't even really get any worse, so I might as well bare arms and see where it leads me, right? May not be the most pragmatic of decisions, but at least it is honest and more aggressive. At least I'd be doing something rather than waiting for things to happen.

Whatever is for us, is for us... -- Whatever's For Us, written and performed by Joan Armatrading

I try my best to be honest and work-hard. I try to be grateful and humble yet confident. I try to be worth the time and the breath... I try very hard, sometimes too hard and sometimes not hard enough...

And I may not be deserving of attention, and I may not be deserving of love... But I know I'm worth the time to at least consider it and the breath and spit to say whether I am or not. Treat me decently and treat me good. Be fair with me, that's all I ask.

And all that is meant for us will not pass us by, but will come hurtling by us and then slowing down, ready for us to pick it out of the sky if ever we were clever enough to figure it out that it is there because sometimes it hides; sometimes cloaked in shadow, disguised as something different -- but it is exactly what we want. Whatever is for us, is for us and will only be ours if we stand up and take it.

Carpe diem, they say. Sieze the day. Maybe I will. Maybe I'll just end up stumbling and falling down... But no one can deny me the step that I will take... May everyone be ready for it...

We've all been hurt before... -- Hurt Before, by The Corrs

I played my delay tactics long enough and must now get back to work. But I have one more trick up my sleeve and I'm doing it now... I'm writing here, writing on my journal to escape the inevitable. I will have to work. But not right now...

Swallowing more than I can chew, I've written a poem before regarding "swallowing the witch's broom" as a metaphor to taking in the muse and the powers and the talents of your mentor, of your inspiration. It was a dismal failure in the eyes of the academe, to the untrained eye, the poem was sensual, implicit and thought-provoking. It has always been a dilemma of mine: do I pander to the readers or to the teachers? Do I write for the ones who are willing to listen or to the ones who are dying to criticize? There is so much to gain from either audience, the critical acclaim or the best-seller hit. Well, I do what I can, I swallow the witch's broom and see if I gain the power of flight.

Swallowing more than I can chew, the second television show, all brawn and no brains; not a fair estimate but very true nonetheless... It's all about mixed martial arts and its fighting to the barest knuckles, to the blood and gore and am I ready for this? And hell, who is, really? There are no classes or special courses in how to write for sports -- you just go and do it. But this is the life I'm slowly carving out for myself, isn't it? Writing by demand, whatever is needed at the time. Scary enough, I'm getting pretty damned good at it. I'm losing the art but somehow, one way or the other, I'm gaining the craft. Which is the one to be valued more?

Questions I cannot answer...

Why am I attracted to complicated people?

Why do I love to be so busy at work? Why do I find my value in the work that I do and the praises that I get?

Why am I so addicted to people? And why is it so easy to let go of alcohol and cigarettes and drugs? Can't it be the reverse? Being addicted to certain people sucks... It sucks big time. And I can't stand it...

By the way, it's been a tough week for quitting cigarettes. Almost 3 months now and I'm starting to feel the pressure again, the need is there. I want to smoke badly but I do not dare. Especially with my mouth healing from the sickness. But damn, I want to smoke badly. This has been a tough week...

the nice things about our imperfections is... the joy it brings to others! -- as texted to me by my father

Racket one is done, waiting for the payment, and second job is in the bag, with a deadline for tomorrow and some more comin' up this weekend. Will be busy, busy, busy as a busy bee, but also means I'll be putting money, money and more money in the bank. That will pay for my India trip next year and my computer and car for this year. I can feel it. I'm getting one of those "C"s pretty soon. It's probably going to be the computer, I need it more and it would be the more practical buy. Anyway, I've really let go of going out and just really enjoyed the more, sublime and quiet gimmicks.

I've never really enjoyed inebriation anyway. I've decided to face life with my eyes filled with clarity. I'm going to take it on with my head clear. Sobriety is the car that I'll be driving for a long time.

Last night, went out with the gang and had a grand time (without a drop of alcohol). It's a little gift of mine, the ability to just watch other people drink and then just get really high and tipsy on watching people drink. I hit these heights of natural high that I can't explain. I was so close to doing cartwheels on the street despite having not drunk anything the whole night but water, watermelon shake and ice tea... These crazy-assed actions all from just watching other people drink. I love it. I miss doing that. Going nuts from watching others drink.

And it can be done and I really, really hate it when people insist that I should drink and that stupid little thing where, I can't have fun if I don't drink. Who said that? And where did it say that I had to drink to have fun? It is so not true and I really can't stand that standard. What? Do they only like me when I become autistic and start dancing alone on one corner or start shouting profanities and vulgarities? Does that make me more fun to be with? What about my wit? And my intelligence? I thoguht those things counted; I thought that made me fun to be with...

Oh well... Pity the poor people who think otherwise. I can just imagine the kind of life they are leading...