Left for dead

living the second life.

Learning to hate

I once heard this from a memoir:

"Hate saps the spirit.
Hate corrodes our capacity to love...
anyone who learns to hate that much cannot love properly again.
He loses his ability to feel like a normal human being."

I agree.

The slow, silent suicide
The slowest suicide

It burns, but it's okay.

It makes certain things go away.

If God can't understand why, then he is not God.

"How do you pick up the threads of an old life?
How do you go on, when in your heart you begin to understand there is no going back?
There are some things that time cannot mend...
some hurts that go too deep."
-Frodo Baggins, from The Return of the King


When two become none

Add another to a pair, and you get two empty seats and a handful of memories.

It's simple math. You come out with two, maybe two-and-a-half.

But it's never three.

Light at the end of the world

During life's dark days, people will tell you to just keep going--try to keep your chin up, your chest out, and find the light at the end of the tunnel. The problem is, there are no assurances that you're going to like what's on the other side.

Sometimes, the light only illuminates emptiness. A great space where you could take any of a million paths and still manage to find a dead end.

Choices. Decisions. Options. Preferences.

Whatever our lives are now can be tracked to simple decisions. Sometimes you get a choice, sometimes someone draws it out for you with moves of everyday kindness or unbelievable cruelty. Left or right. Yes or no. To be or not to be.

But our lives are never the result of bad luck. It’s never predestined. God or the Devil probably had nothing to do with who or what we are now. It all falls to choices that someone made in the past. Sometimes we made the choice, other times someone else made that choice for us.

The results can only be regret or satisfaction; the only difference that separates the two outcomes is if we can live with the choices that we make. There is no luck. There is no predestined path or plan. Only choices.

SP red smile
There was a bright light, but it was an off-white upside down memory. I'm caught in a landslide, I'm caught in a joyride as my blood begins to thin. You say it's a fact, you say it's a feeling to stab in my back. So long, sorry, it makes me cry, it makes me sad. So wrong, so rare, but I don't feel, and you're not there, and I don't want you back.

Well you had a hard day of pushing me away. Please don't push, I fall easily. Well you put a hard strain, hard on the membrane, I react to words you say. It's not like I care, it's not like I'm bleeding or numb everywhere. But I don't, 'cause I stopped spinning around for you

There was a bright light, but it was an off-white. All the world came crashing down. But I don't feel it coming on again. It's making me high,
Because I stopped spinning around for you

beating the odds
I've been thinking about finding connections lately, to try to explain what our chances are of finding people you can connect with. After studying the stats (thanks to census, education, psychology, and other available statistics), here's what I came up with using rough data and basic calculations:

-Let's say you know 1000 people, whether friends, acquaintances, or through a network.
-50% of which will make up your preferred gender (male/female), leaving 500.
-300 of the people you know (30%) fall under your particular age group (giving an age allowance of +5/-5). 
-Assuming that 30% of the 300 people in your age group that you know are at least attractive to you, (whether you find them physically or morally ideal) you're left with 100.
-Let's assume that only one in five of the same-aged attractive people in your preferred gender are still single; that leaves you with 20.
-Leaving the generic types out of the equation, only one in ten will be smart enough or cultured enough for your tastes, because you're looking for someone you can actually talk to. That leaves you with two people you know out of a thousand who are smart, attractive, the right gender, and within your age group.
-According to statistics, 45-50% of women or 50-60% of men will likely cheat on you at one point or another, so let's round that off to a nice, solid 50% for everyone, or one in two people are likely to fool around. 
-That leaves you with one person out of a thousand, or  .01 percent.

No one said this shit is going to be easy. So get crackin!

Dropping it like it’s hot / spending like a Wiidiot

I never took the paper out of the envelope I stuffed in my jacket pocket the other day. I never took the envelope out of the jacket either. After I pocketed it, I never thought about it anymore.

One of the messages discussed during yesterday’s Sundays service: God’s economy. “While we try to hoard and save everything, it doesn’t do much for the soul. In God’s economy, we will be judged not by what we have but what we give away.” It was then when I realized that the envelope was still there, so I took out a few bills, and gave it to God’s people to do God’s work.

When I left church, I felt that I didn’t want anything left in my pocket when I got home, so we passed by the electronics shops by the mall, saw a good deal on a Nintendo Wii and picked one up. Also picked up an extra set of controllers so two people can share in on the fun. Also had it modded so it can handle “cheaper discs”. I also stopped by a snack kiosk and bought something for the family.

Problem solved. Pockets are empty again.

When I got home, I played some virtual golf with my brother, spent 30 minutes “fishing”, and then stood up to find something else to do. Right now, I’m willing to spend on anything just to see if it makes sense. If something has the potential to make sense, I’ll do it. This didn’t make much, but at least my brother’s happy. 

Breaking into the sixes

Walking alone across the streets of Makati at night—its been so long since I last did that. I’m not sure if it was a pleasant experience or not, but at least I experienced it again. I took my time, enjoyed the crisp evening air, and just stared at peoples’ faces. I’ve always loved people-watching, and this long, quiet walk let me indulge my pseudo-anthropological whims, if only for a short time. 

Halfway into the trip, I ran into a friend and her husband and chatted for a few minutes. That was a pleasant experience. I think I might have offered to spring for a nice little get together with the old team, in which case I really don’t mind. I miss you guys. 

Walking back for the other half, when the pleasantries and goodbyes were over with, I became aware of the envelope in my inner jacket pocket. I can’t remember the last time I had so much but felt so empty. I know I’ve probably said this a dozen times, but I am so disgusted with money that the more I have the more empty I feel. 

Double-checked my bank account and found that I finally broke into the “sixes”. I have never been so indifferent with this much before, but it only got this way because I didn’t want to touch it. Not because I was saving for anything; I literally don’t want to touch it. I reactivated my credit cards yesterday. Just so I don’t have to touch the filthy stuff. I don’t plan on buying anything though, but you’ll never know. I might just lose it, pack up, and end up in China or something. Someplace these things might come in handy.  

I want to get out of here. Lose myself somewhere, if only for a few days. Hopefully, I can find myself and tell the other “me” to come back. If anyone wants to go somewhere or do something crazy, please lemme know. I’m game. Heck, I’ll even pay for it, as long as the idea sounds good. 

Hello city, 
You've found an enemy in me.
-"Hello City", Barenaked Ladies

I found a charitable organization that accepts help through credit cards. I'll be helping out this way as soon as my replacement cards arrive. It's not crazy, fun, or entertaining, but maybe it can alleviate this hollow feeling. Maybe it can fill the hole with something good for a change.

System Crash

Did I just wake up on the wrong side of the bed the past couple of days, or is this it? I’ve had a few rare good days last week, but it appears that the effort it takes to raise the mood—which is nothing short of superhuman—is too tiring to sustain for more than a couple of days. 

Basically, with nothing really solid to step on, you eventually fall back to the ground. With nothing concrete to look forward to, gravity does its job and your eyes tend to look down again.

 That’s all I really need right now: something to look forward to. Something that’ll make me want to get out of bed. Something that isn’t work, dammit. Something that isn’t about money. Anything. A reason. A purpose. Something to get this thing out of my head. Something that’ll make me believe that the world is not as fucked up as it is. Something that’ll make me forget. Something like a concussion. Or better yet, amnesia.

It feels like I’ve been grasping at straws the past few days. Like I’ve been building stuff with really shitty materials. It’s there, it’s not there, you have it, you don’t. You lost something that you never found. Of course, you can wait, but when it doesn’t make sense to wait, if you don’t even know what you’re waiting for, waiting becomes an extended form of torture.

A reset. A reboot. A reformat. A complete reprogram. A concussion. Whatever. Anything to keep me from loading data from the bad sectors, so I don’t crash. Anything to keep me from pressing Ctrl-Atl-Delete.



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