mcspazzerton

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.

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."

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.

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.

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.

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!

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. 

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

--------------
EDIT: 
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.

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.

 

I spent a rare, pleasant day yesterday. I felt light and upbeat. I just wanted to laugh the whole day, smile the whole day, spend the day with joy in my heart for a change.

While I was waiting for the church service to start, I spent around 30 minutes alone at a cafe, with a cup of brewed coffee and the morning paper. The title of one of the columns caught my eye: "Wrestling With God", and after reading it, it comforted me in a way. Somehow, it gave a bit more sense to what's been happening to me lately.


It's a beautiful message. By putting some semblance of reality and humanity into the concepts of faith, it gives comfort to people who have been left with nothing but "why?" I have to agree that while faith means that you believe, it should also mean that you shouldn't be blind. Recent events have put my faith to the test, more than ever, leaving me with no other option but to keep asking "why?" I've been asking this single question for months on end, somehow doubting if it'll ever be answered.

At a point when I was on the verge of just giving up to "sell the farm", I suddenly changed my tone. Faith turned to desperation, and anguish turned into anger. It's when I started to demand to be heard. I demanded some answers. Within days, I got my answers. I didn't get the answers that I wanted, but I got them all the same. The truth is painful as hell, but it set me free nonetheless.

In this sense, I can relate to the message. I feel I don't deserve this, but I feel that I'm being guided. Derailed my life may be, but He made sure to show me a better path, with better roads and better destinations. Yes, I feel that I've been through my own long-time "wrestling match" with God, which had me kicking and screaming. I lost, of course. He found my weakest spot and beat on me until I knelt and submitted.

In the end, He won. But when it was over and I admitted defeat, it was when I realized that I don't hurt as much anymore. I'll be waiting for the consolation prize. He promised me that it's going to be a good one. 

The past week has taught me to look forward again. I'm looking forward to getting some semblance of life back. A life lived with dignity. A life held up by two moving feet. A life seen through eyes that aren't staring down anymore, but looking ahead again. It's a life that God personally promised me, and I plan to hold Him to that promise.

I lived! I'm alive. I survived. I don't think anyone will ever know how close I came to the brink, how all the fuckery caused me to dangle a foot over the edge and tiptoe across the cracks, running on fumes on wobbly knees and controlled by a brain that was clouded by medication. I'm living the aftermath of a trauma. It's not much of a life (yet), but in a way, I guess I could say that I'm learning to look forward to some things and that I'm just happy to be here. Simply happy to be lucid--to be thinking clearly, and to be feeling real human emotions again.

My hug therapy worked, i guess. Thank you to everyone whom I've had the pleasure to talk with the past week. My family and friends. You guys pulled me back to "safety".--with the light, fun conversations, the support, and the virtual hugs that you've been sending me. I'm laughing more, and I'm smiling more now. To the people who really know me: thank you for believing in me. After all these years, you still know who I am, and you know what I am. Thank you for not allowing me to question myself. For these simple guestures, I am deeply grateful for having all of you in my life. You're all blessings, and you're all angels in your own right. In a way, all of you saved my life. If one day (and I hope that day never comes for any of you), you find yourself in the same dark place, I swear, I'll be there when any one of you needs a friend. 

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To be inked or not to be?

I'm still 50-50 on getting a tattoo. For the record, I want to have "J29:11" inked on me, not to dwell on what happened, but to celebrate the aftermath. To celebrate this part of my life. "J29:11" is for Jeremiah 29:11, which says:
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."
I know it's a bit extreme to have it inked on me forever, but you have no idea how this passage pulled me through. Besides all the family and friends who rallied around me, this passage makes up for 50% of the reason I decided to "get up, shake off the dust, and run". I was thinking of having it done on my neck/shoulder area, basically just under the collar-line (in a nicely decorated way, of course. Just so it doesn't look like a jail cell number). I want to be reminded of this promise everyday. Every time I look in the mirror, I want to be reminded that there is absolutely no reason for me to ultimately fail or falter. Anyway, it appears that the concept of getting inked is still pretty much taboo for a lot of people. A lot of them quote from 1 Corinthians 6:19 (basically, the words of St. Paul to the Corinthians that says that "the body is the temple of the Holy Spirit*). It should be made clear, however, that the context of this particular verse, when read in entirety, does not actually oppose marking your skin in any way (it says nothing of it); this verse, when taken into context, warns us of the dangers of sexual promiscuity, and how sexual immorality is a sin against the body, or the "temple"-- that goes ditto for prostitutes, adulterers, pigs, whores, and dirty old men (and women). Corinth, at the time, was sort of a red light district before red lights were invented.

In any case, this context makes more sense. Just like I believe that when I die and show up for judgment, my diet is not going to be questioned, I also believe that your body piercings, tattoos and hair colors shouldn't be questioned. It really makes no sense in the grand scheme of things, don't you think? What if Gandhi or Mother Teresa had a tattoo? Should they be judged because of it? Of course not. Adulterers and "pigs" however... it just makes more sense.    Also, the angle that you can't be a blood or organ donor when you're inked has been disproven. You just can't do it for the next 12 months after you get inked. After that, you are allowed to sell your liver to the highest bidder (it's actually illegal, but you can if you really want to).

Anyways, whether you think I should or shouldn't, please holler. I wanna know what you think. Give me your two cents.

(Here's a sample of what I want to get done: "Psalm 23":http://www.ratemyink.com/images/ul/542/Psalm-23-tattoo-54216.jpeg)

Slept at around 4:30, became conscious at 5:30, gave up sleep at 6,

I only managed to sneak in an hour of sleep. I've been unbelievably restless the past few days, as if my existence bordered on what's about to go down on monday.

I've taken to being a bit more active this week to release some of the pent up energy I have--I've been lifting weights and exercising again, and I've decided that every time I wake up during the wee hours (or whenever I feel like I'm going crazy from being stuck here--in this room, in this place, in this predicament, in this body, in this life), I'll lace up the trainers, hook up the iPod, and take a morning run. It helps me get my thoughts in order.

I've also been eating more than the usual lately, so at least my body seems to have decided to do some recovering as well. I only wish my head would just learn to give it up for a few more hours and just me sleep some more. If these bags under my eyes get any bigger (or darker), they''d be considered luxury accessories.

I don't think I'll be running this morning though--that might be bordering on self-abuse. Barely two hours of sleep (or at least pretending to be asleep) and a brisk run might be a bad mix for a collapse. I'm going to need a whole lot of strength to get through the next few days. I'll be going to church in a bit though. Maybe I'll get some rest after.

Slept around 10pm, woke up at 2am.

Waking up at 3am already felt like it was too much. This is getting ridiculous. 3am at least feels like the next day. That's three or so hours to sunrise. 2am on the other hand, is when you just got home from a night out.

Had another jumbled, convoluted, twisted, fucked up dream. Again, it woke me up with the realization that reality is much much more jumbled, convoluted, twisted, and fucked up. It's too messed up to describe here, and I don't even want to try to put it into words this time.

It's ironic. I had a relatively pleasant day today (I mean yesterday).

I feel like a kid who woke up from a nightmare only to find out that the monsters under the bed are very very real. On the other hand, I'm pretty sure the monsters have been sleeping like babies. Later, they'll wake up feeling like a million bucks. As if the world is their oyster, and they can take everything they want from it.

Week 2 since I stopped popping the pills, and I'm feeling a bit better. The past few days, I've been indulging myself on a nice new (but totally different) "high".

I've been hugging my mother like crazy. Randomly. All the time. Without any reason, and--well, judging from the reactions I get--without any warning.

The world's still fucked up through my pill-withdrawed brain and sleep-deprived eyes, but the pain I've been feeling just gets a little more tolerable every time I do it. The world gets a little bit better. I'm thinking a bit more clearly. Everything makes a bit more sense (actually, it still doesn't make any sense, but well, for some reason, it's just a little more tolerable).

Everyone, hug your mothers. Often. As tightly as you can, when you can, while you can. The world is going to be a better place for it.

How apt. Took the words right out of my sleep-deprived brain.
Thanks random bible verse generator on the internet!

From Psalms 6 and 13:

O LORD, do not rebuke me in Your anger,
Nor chasten me in Your wrath.
Be gracious to me, O LORD, for I am pining away;
Heal me, O LORD, for my bones are dismayed.
And my soul is greatly dismayed;
But You, O LORD—how long?
Return, O LORD, rescue my soul;
Save me because of Your loving kindness.
I am weary with my sighing;
Every night I cry,
I dissolve my couch with my tears.
My eye has wasted away with grief;
It has become old because of all my adversaries.
Depart from me, all you who do iniquity,
For the LORD has heard the voice of my weeping.
The LORD has heard my supplication,
The LORD receives my prayer.
All my enemies will be ashamed and greatly dismayed;
They shall turn back, they will suddenly be ashamed.

How long, O LORD? Will You forget me forever?
How long will You hide Your face from me?
How long shall I take counsel in my soul,
Having sorrow in my heart all the day?
How long will my enemy be exalted over me?
Consider and answer me, O LORD my God;
Enlighten my eyes, or I will sleep the sleep of death,
And my enemy will say, “I have overcome him,”
And my adversaries will rejoice when I am shaken.
But I have trusted in Your loving kindness;
My heart shall rejoice in Your salvation.
I will sing to the LORD,
Because He has dealt bountifully with me.

Thank you God. I finally had a pleasant dream. It was, in fact, too pleasant... it became too unreal and crossed the line into the rationally improbable (at the time being) that I returned to consciousness too soon. 

Slept at a little after 2am, regained consciousness at around 4:30am.

I need more of this. A bit of divine inspiration. A source of strength. Something to look forward to. I'm going to need more to get me through the following days, weeks, and months. This year is going to be more of the same hell.