The World Loves A Beefcake

I shudder at the sight of a very pretty girl going out with a douchebag. No, that cannot be happening at this day and age. Whatever happened to substance, to Shia LeBeouf getting paired with Megan Fox, to life being ultimately the revenge of the nerds?

When you think the mating landscape has become progressive, that pretty mestiza girl from college is now dating a guy whose primary goal in life is to increase the girth of his biceps.

Seeing them HHWW at the mall struck a chord in me so hard that I did what I swore myself not to do ever in my entire dorky existence.

I signed up for a gym.

Now I know what I did what such a sellout, but after watching Captain America recently, I realized that nobody cares who the director was or who wrote the script, and if it were to be based on the shrieks alone, muscles make girls go into a wild frenzy.

In what world does muscle trumps over brains?  Wait, earth calling Jaime.

All this time, I thought brain was the biggest the sex organ and intelligence is the best aphrodisiac.

Hoping to learn more about this anomaly, I text blasted girls on my phonebook, ‘Quick, bright o gwapo? #yungtotoo #walangplastikan’.

Honestly, I thought it was a shocker that everyone replied with looks as their top priority. But there’s one though that replied, ‘what quick’?

*Faceplam

When Survivor did the Brains vs Beauty vs Brawns this season, I thought I was gonna be rooting for the brains. But since they proved to be imbeciles, I leaned more towards the beauties, specifically hot girl Morgan. I dunno everybody needs a bosom for a  pillow I guess.

Now I know I’m contradicting myself, but then again, I was thinking with my other head.

We all have beer goggles on when it comes to cerebral matters. Dafuq if she’s dumb.

In the end, I take that we can’t choose who we love. For all we know, that asswipe that’s the mestiza girl’s current squeeze is smart (which I highly doubt).

I told my friend quick meant ‘premature ejaculator’ and she just took it just like that. No brain process whatsoever. But I digress.  I didn’t have the patience because I just felt the urgency of this subject.

And if you’re asking, It’s been a week now, but I still haven’t showed up at the gym. I still haven't lost hope for humanity.

Boodmo

At thirteen I thought paradise would be lounging at the beach with a beer on my hand watching the most perfect 4D experience; the waves crashing, the sun setting, and reality shut and kept somewhere else. I didn’t even like beer then. And my biggest woe was not being able to watch my favourite show on a Friday night.  

Back then, the coolest thing ever would be doing what my childhood hero was documenting week after week on a national daily. It wasn’t  Kurt’s artistry and eventual demise, not Gael’s cinematic triumphs, and not even Che’s aventuras de motocicleta, but what this little gringa wanderer did on the face of the earth; she lived life. And lived to tell the tale.

I won’t give out her name. Let’s just keep it that way.

So a decade later, on my birthday weekend, at 4 pm, on a happy hour, I drank beer on the beach, watched the waves and the sun set. Looking back, I must say things have been working out the way I envisioned it to be. At times, it did feel a little bit of a slow burn, but not getting what I want on a specific time has only taught me patience.  And for that, i think I can sit still now, a few minutes more than someone with attention deficit.

At 6 pm, I was guzzling down cocktails with a friend and a Scandinavian divorcee. In some drink whose name I couldn't even remember, I realized that it wouldn't hurt to try out new things once in a while. Out of your comfort zone, is where the magic happens. Like some fancy tequila-based whatnot, would it kill me if I drink out of a martini glass instead of a shot glass? Nope. But it did make me appreciate what i have with rum. And what I have in life.

In Scandinavia, she ranted out the sad fact that they didn’t have mangoes. And that her marriage was ending. I told her to go to Italy and India and Bali, and maybe write a book, and think of herself like she’s some kind of a paler Julia Roberts. And if all else fails, happiness could come in a form of a peach mango pie or a Mango Mania Krusher or just plain mangoes.

I would have suggested her to do a female version of Around The World in 80 Girls but I don’t think she’s up for that.Wherever she is now, prolly in Boracay, I wish her the best lays days of her life.

At 8 pm, I was pleasantly surprised to find out that there’s another set of happy hours. Like, being on an island doesn’t give out that much happiness already.  

Talking about random things over aged rum with old friends and new ones and getting surprised at the wisdom we never knew we have is just priceless. Appreciating your differences and being grateful for friendships that withstood time and geographical boundaries made every shot sweeter. Seeing Spanish volunteers put their life on hold on the other side of the world to help out the typhoon victims has restored my faith in humanity.  Witnessing people with so little and yet so happy only affirmed my disdain towards material culture.

Every time i’m in a new island, at a beach somewhere on this archipelago, getting lost, I know I have made her proud. For it is when you’re lost that you find yourself. 

Paradiso doesn’t have to be synonymous to white sand beaches and turquoise seas. In my case, I live near it – Paradise, the village. My crib may not be the fanciest, but it has enough character for every bonito struggling artist waiting for a muse to get inspiration from. I know I've made this choice. I may not be happy at times, but who is?

At the end of the day, when the hangover is gone and reality draws you back in, you realize, happiness is a choice. And paradise is a state of mind. So let’s drink to that. Boodmo.

The Bigger Peacock

I once went to a store in a place where the population is supposedly predominantly Bisaya. So imagine my horror when the attendant came up to me and asked “Sir, ano po ang hinahanap natin?”

She was speaking in Tagalog. In good grammar, but that’s beside the point.

 Yes, Tagalog. Something that I’ve never really bothered in mastering. Yes, I can think it. And I can very damn well write it. It’s just that I don’t want to hear myself talking and getting flak for sounding too, well, weird.

“I’m sorry I’d rather not speak Tagalog,” I said sheepishly.

It threw her off a little bit, and for a moment got confused as to what language she would have to use.

“Do you speak Bisaya?” I asked

She nodded.

“Good.  Magbinisaya ta.”

Welcome to a Southern City in the Philippines, where speaking a certain kind of Tagalog entails a feeling of self-importance.

Going around the city for some research and having talked to some locals, I would notice one thing; a bevy in the young society do have a knack for speaking that grammatically wrong, heavily accented Tagalog. And if I may add, they consider themselves sosyal.

Meet the kolehiyalas.

“Mahiya man ako magjeep”

“Ano nga yung ginsabi mo?”

“Magpunta tayo karon sa Gmall.”

One doesn’t have to be a grammarian to recognize the obvious. And one just has to open his eyes a little more objectively to see where those words are coming from.

I once talked to a girl who said she normally has to turn her Tagalog on when she’s in the mall. According to her, that’s what posh people do.

I, too, would speak that much dreaded language for any Bisaya tongue if I were a native speaker. But for someone who’s obviously not and talking to a fellow non-native, do we really have to risk sounding trying hard and jologs just to make us feel that we’re better than everyone else?

Speaking broken tagalog does not make us sosyal nor better. Neither does going to Gmall.

So why do we have that need to feel that we’re a cut above the rest?

In one of those long days in my previous job in pharmaceutical sales, some people from other drug companies certainly do have attitude just because they claim they’re from a “better” company.

“Miss, are you from ?”

“Yes, why?” She snootily answered.

“Nah, nevermind.”

Looking back now, she might’ve thought I was trying to hit on her. She might’ve also forgotten what her face looks like.

I was, like, dafuq?

Sometimes the ugliest girls do really have the ugliest attitudes.

There was also a time when I have spoken with a doctor who looks down on flight attendants just because they’re “just dumb flight attendants” and he was “a doctor.”

I was greatly offended for I have known smart people from that industry -smart enough to be doctors themselves. And yet, here’s a doctor whose intelligence in questionable and whose face is, well, indescribable.

Rumor has it that he took the boards 4x and yet he has never eaten his share of humble pie.

For all I know, his unabashed audacity just stems from his frustrations.

How many times have we encountered pricks simply because they’re titled and they’re “so much better than everyone else”?

Reality is, people who think they’re better than everyone else are actually not. Read: there is a reason why some young and unloved female lawyers put on a Gandang-Ganda sa Sarili Facade with overzealous confidence.

One pattern I’ve noticed while working in my previous job, is that pretty doctors tend to be the most gracious, kind and accommodating.  And the ones with the good attitude even if they’re not conventionally pretty become more and more beautiful once you get to know them. On the other hand, kung sino pa nga yung alanganin, yun pa ang nagsusuplada.

Over-compensation for the things we lack in would only makes us look hopeless than we already are.

At times we find ourselves laughing at people who mispronounce words. We think it’s hilarious. We then take pride in being “superior.”  But if we really are better people, instead of laughing, shouldn’t we help and correct that poor little chap who mixes his f’s and p’s?

The recently concluded elections just brought out the holier than thou attitude in us. Uh newsflash, not voting for Nancy Binay don’t make us the chosen ones.  I was the only one in our precinct who voted for Dick Gordon last presidential elections but doesn’t give me the right to call all those who did not vote for him stupid.

Seriously though, we are not better than we think we are.

And it seems like everyone’s so busy in trying to one-up each other, but really, aside from those bragging rights, what does having a flashier peacock brings to the table?

Man Go Float

Surrender.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned the past two years that would be IT. It’s not the maturity of how I am now as a drinker. Not the stroke that would identify me as a painter. Not even the writing style I have developed and somehow lost the past decade.

It’s about finally accepting what is happening now and all the things that have had happened be it good or bad without any form of resistance whatsoever.

It’s not raising that white flag per se, even if it kinda is when if it’s really not. But it’s knowing that I have done everything that I could and the outcome is no longer in my hands.

The past two years have been all about moving and searching for that special place on earth, moving from one city to another, making mistakes one day at a time. Maybe I have learned, maybe I have not.

Realizations were made, friends drifted apart, hearts and dreams were broken, and isolated case of blueballs just remained, well, as it is and nothing more.

Growing old has been nothing but tricky. I remember purposely going to a booze party and yet constantly reminding myself not to get hammered as much as I used to – which I successfully did with flying colors. Having experienced a major blackout months before have made a self-police out of me. Would I say being a smart drinker is fun? No. But it’s something a responsible grown up would do when he’s got an early flight the next day.

You are no longer in college, I tell myself. And we thought life was already a bitch back then.  Well, welcome to the real world, bitch.

And then there’s friends. Do we really have that many people we can consider as such? Do we really? Geography will always take a toll in any relationship. New interests sprout by the minute. People outgrow each other, move on and get on with their lives even if we like it or not.

It’s like when some friends finally face the music and go to AA, it will always be inevitable. Even if occasional relapse does happen, no it ain’t  just the same.

And oh, dreams too can be shattered. If by now, you still haven’t gotten over the fact that you are tone-deaf, color-blind or I dunno, just blind to see the blatant fact that things aren’t going to happen, prepare to have your hearts broken. Not everyone can be rockstars or astronauts or olympians or pornstars.

Not everyone is cut-out for becoming they always wanted to be.

Heck I know, I’ll never go to outer space. Even if my head is.

We just have to accept it and from that adjust the career path from scribbled lines to something less gibberish.

And of course, some hook-ups are bound to shake our world badly.  Despite what you say is an undeniable chemistry, that sexual tension, those long walks on some quaint little town, that French song you sing together, that doesn’t have to mean anything all the time.

In the end you might end up holding tears on the bus.

And just jerk it all off.

Happened in real life. To someone I know. Stop asking questions.

My two years of taking that “gap year”, developing my personal brand, working on that “book”, and trying to become who I am can be summed up by my quest to actually learn how to swim. I know, kill me now.

All my life I just never learned how to. I remember feeling fulfilled when, despite my lack of natural buoyancy, I floated on some beach in Guimaras two years ago. For the entire afternoon, I just floated moving from point A to point B.  It wasn’t swimming but, still...

Flash forward two years later, Samal Island with a trainer in tow. This time, a little more determined. I was taught two things. One is that in times of distress, all I have to do is swim like a dog. I don’t know what that means and yes, I did imagined myself as a dog.

And two, that I must not resist the waves. Relax, take it easy for there is nothing that you can do, that music played in my head. The more I try to resist, the bigger chances I might just get injured or worse, die.

Then it got me thinking, I was being a badass dorky genius who found answers in life again. In two years. Yipee. Joy. Hurrah. Bigyan ng jacket.

Yes, things don’t always go as planned. Life has this habit of throwing us lemons, not giving us enough time to make lemonades, overwhelming enough to bury us.  Change is always unavoidable. Doors closing are normal. Everything is just shit. And all that come in very big shitty waves.

Sometimes, there’s just no use fighting.

After an hour of successfully not doing it, I just did what I knew best; float.

The Future of Superficiality

Superficiality in the past was your friendster primary pic.

That was it. It wasn’t even digitally filtered, edited and heavily Photoshopped. It wasn’t fetching in any way. Unless you’re Ellen Adarna, your picture would have to be bland to say the least.

And you didn’t even give that much fuck.

We didn’t have newsfeeds.  We didn’t have twitter. We didn’t feel the need to air our two cents worth on everything. We didn’t post pictures of our faces with the same facial expressions with different backgrounds.

Life was static.

Superficiality in the future was when I suddenly considered going to the gym to get myself some abs. For a day I actually thought of actually getting ripped on the abdominals. Yes, just on the abdominals coz that’s hardcore.

But come to think of it, if you’re secured enough of your package, then what do you need those abs for?

And so I digress.

And just mentally streaked on everyone instead.

And so I ask myself, what was I thinking?

Why the sudden need to be like everyone else on my newsfeed?

Superficiality in the future was when you let your friend’s going through the evolution process gets in your head. Yes, despite their denials, nosejobs were done. The nose speaks for itself; Everyone now has prettier hair; People still have the same faces but just have different backgrounds. They have an Instagram account just for that.  And everyone hits the gym.

Come to think of it, everyone could be in the brink of evolution while you are still left behind. I could be left behind. We can all shudder now.

Then again, the people that are actually really attractive are the ones that never really tried hard.

I remember having a drink with some foreign model and his girlfriend once. They were having an interfacial relationship as she was rather plain while he had hit the genetics jackpot.

For him, his squeeze is the prettiest girl in the room. I thought he just had way too much Tanduay but he went on to talking about getting pass what’s superficial and looking through what’s inside.

For a split sec I thought he was talking about his girl’s naked body but no, he was the real deal.

The guy was a saint, the epitome of beer goggles, and someone in this age of constant self-promotion should look up to.

We should be ashamed of ourselves now.

I am. So are you?

The future of superciality was when facebook started the newsfeeds and everyone just went along with it, riding its waves coz we all thought it’s cool.

It’s not. It’s actually irritating. Sa tingin mo, ano ang maiaambag ng minu-minutong picture ng mukha mo on Instagram sa mundo?

I am not gonna get abs. I am gonna get some extra rice and then some.  Prolly some extra sleep coz that’s hardcore.

Besides, I’ve already mentally streaked on everyone.

Storms and Blackouts

With no electricity and no access to social media, the one good thing that the recent storm contributed to the life of a good friend, is that it got so boring it got her thinking about her life in general.

“Am I a badass chick? So I don’t deserve some good, serious man?” she asked.

Yes she’s she is badass. Yes, there is no denying the fact the she is actually IT, personified. But her second question hit something close to home. It got me thinking, if you have done a lot of fuckery in your past, are you not worthy of any good shit in the future?

As kids we were thought of the concept of heaven/hell and reward/punishment. If you do good, then you go to heaven. If you do bad, you go to heaven hell.

Then how do you explain good girls falling for bad boys and good boys jerking off for bad girls? Or that devil friend of yours who still hasn’t gotten any bad karma despite of being, as everyone knows, the devil.

And you know the Philippines is fucked when after more than, I don’t know, a freaking long time now, that the perpetrators of the Maguindano Massacre still hasn’t been punished.

We are all fucked. By society. By media. By the producers who rigs your favorite reality show. By the casters who cut you early in the audition. By your one true love who you still think is your one true love in spite of all the blinding flash of the obvious. By the Mayan Calendar… We are all fucked.

This whole Bopha superstorm shall pass like some midterms you didn’t study for. There will be loss. There will be collateral damages. But there will be good things that will spring out because of this. Like the picture, everyone is waiting for; the proof that a friend really has ingrained the goal of remaining beautiful in times of distress. (Rianne we're waiting...)

It may sound jovial, but isn’t that what we Filipinos have been known for?

What I like bad things happening is that when everything has settled, good thing ensues. Last year’s Sendong brought out the heroes in everyone. We are now a close-knit community more than ever.

So back to my friend. She’s been through worse than a superstorm of a year these past eleven months. And had quite a number of blackouts (oh yeah). For some time I thought she hits rock bottom until she hits a new low again and again and again.

I never judged and I never imposed my beliefs. It would be hypocritical of me anyways since I was never the good boy in people’s high moral standards.

And maybe, that’s what should friends do. Instead of being a self-righteous prick, why can’t you just be a friend for once? Help not because there are cameras but because it is what you ought to do. Like helping a drunk friend walk on his way home, you too, will stumble. But that is something you can just laugh about.

So does she not deserve a good, serious man?

Well, I say, everyone deserves to be happy. Why settle for serious when you can have fun?

And we really should have blackouts more often.

Scenrealt's Guide to Weeding Out Sucky Friends

"Understand that friends come and go,but for the precious few you 

should hold on. " -Baz Luhrmann

The truth of the matter is we no longer have time for friends as much as we used to. That’s the price of being in your 20's. People just moved on… prolly to somewhere better or to someplace wherein you are just not a part of anymore. And either they’re busy, or you are, reasons as to why your siblings from another mother just couldn't have the time to have reckless abandon duties with their college partner in crime just pile up. Mostly because of work, then work, and work. Add different geographical locations to the equation, then comes another episode of In Your 20’s.

So if this is really a part of growing up, which part of this doesn't suck?

*crickets chirping

Yeah it got me thinking too.  I can’t really think of any good reason why it is not a sucky time of our lives at all.

If losing friends is really inevitable, who are the one’s we should keep and who to write off? One would assume that after two decades of existence, most of us have been calibrated on who’s in or who’s out.

The people you went to jail with, IN. The person who got you out of jail, IN. The reason for that jail time, OUT. The person who has the all the stash connections, IN. People who are gonna be huge someday, OU-er IN. The most loyal minion in the world, IN. The bar owner, IN. The person to be most likely hated by the jury, IN.

Weeding out is tricky, you say? It sure is. But I've made a list of some species I’m planning to eradicate.

Tall-tale Teddy

I’m dead sure that if there’s anyone I would weed out right now, it’s those people who until now, at this age, tell tall tales just to impress everyone. Friendship that is not based on substance isn't friendship at all. Then what do you make out of friendship that is based on lies?

Simply put, we don’t couldn't care less about how your vagina can open a coke bottle. Because as friends, we already know what your koo-kaa is capable of. We know a lie whenever we hear one.

Needy Norman

They reach out to you whenever ONLY they need something. The minute they start PMing, DMing, texting after a long time of no communication means they need something. I’m like, seriously?

I’m not Santa. And I’m not fucking rich. I’m not gonna help out anyone who only remembers me when the need arrives.

Some friends are just there for the booze but not for the sobriety. They’re the ones that leave you cold when you’re sober.

Unreachable Udale

There will always be people that aren't good in keeping in touch. They don’t do social media. They don’t do phones. And we accept that.

But then there are just a bunch of airheads that think are just waaaay better than you. Better jobs; higher education; These are the things the got into their heads and swelled it.

Most of the time, they are the insecure schmucks that yearns for acceptance by the people they deem cool. High school was awful for them, most likely. And they spent half their lives hating on people who had it better. But what they fail to realize is that they will always be misfits looking in. Unless, they get over the fact that, yes high school was torture like what everyone else had, then there’s no way of getting them have their feet back into the ground.

Hypocrite Hector

Ever had someone ask you how you’re doing and it didn't feel genuine at all? That. These are the “friends” that check up on you because they want to affirm that they are faring better. Come on, this isn't a competition. If you can’t be happy for another person’s success, then just curl up and die.

In your 20’s, there comes a point in time when you realize who your friends are; who makes the effort... and those who are worthy of those efforts. Things aren't gonna be what it used to be anymore. People grow and people grow apart.

Gone are the times when after class hangouts happen. Whatever your definition of hangout was.

If you still think, it’s that sucky. Think of it this way, at least at this stage in life, we already know who’ll stick with us for a very very long time.

That Gap Year

I partied hard last new year’s eve.

Perhaps it was just my way of saying goodbye to the gap year I took before I actually started taking life a little seriously (do not question). It was all planned. Whether I liked my job that time or not, I was deadset on just going home, don that white uniform, look good in it, and live miserably thinking what could have been had I not chicken out on some job opportunity Communication graduates would swore their life for.

But no, it did happen. Things happen. People take a stopover in Cebu and suddenly everything falls wayward to the side. Suddenly I got the backpacking bug. Suddenly it seemed I lost any form of logic. And momentarily I was lured into some crazy ride. And a whole lotta crazy I did.

Nothing’s gonna knock this boy down.

Out of the blue, I got this message from a classmate I never had any form of communications with whatsoever for ages asking me “what happened to you?”

I was like, “yeah what happened me?” Have I done something wrong? Did I just kill someone with my awesomeness? Have I just gotten more awesome than I already am? Should I go to prison? I’m guilty as charged.

Problem with today’s society is we’re so caught up with the images we see in social media, we couldn’t get past superficiality. If she’s hot, confirm. If not, maybe next time. Admit it, facebook has turned us more superficial than we already are.

As my good friend once said, “We are just a good as our surface value. As the name goes, facebook; face”

I’m hella positive for real. I’m all good.

Contrary to popular belief, I have a friggin’ job people. Yes a friggin’ job… which actually requires me to look dapper as Don Drapper. Weekends though, is another story.

So just save all that worry. Believe me, it’ll do you much good especially on those lines on your forehead. If you’re just gonna express concern with the way you think my life should be going, just… don’t. If I wanted to live your life, then I should have already modeled mine with perfection also known as your life. Because how I see it, if your life is really that perfect, then how on earth did you find time to check on what’s happening in mine.

Who says I’m on a downward spiral? I’m having fun.

And why are you on facebook 24/7?

I’m trying to get a hold on this. And I mean it.

Days after the New Year, I shaved my head, packed my bags, got myself a new job and moved on to another place.

Seven months later, here I am now having a thought vomit while raping the replay button of No Doubt’s “Settle Down” on Vevo. If this were the 90’s, I would have watched it on MTV.  Then again, change had always been inevitable.

Before I know it, I may no longer be the free spirit I once was.

My friend once try to scare me with the thought that someday I’ll wake up and see a fat fuck staring back in the mirror. Yeah, we’ll see about that.  If Gwen, Tony and the gang can preserve youth… so should everyone.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DWDxZJ4zinw

So when a gap year ends really? Maybe now or I dunno. But seriously, why does fun have to stop?

Get get get in line and settle down. Riiiiiiight.

The Bitch, The Cunt and The Ho

Lenore: Although we sell dick and not cars. We can learn a lot from Diego Rivera. Notice the workers. Clearly their jobs are depressing. They work for so many hours for too little pay. And they have to wear unattractive overalls.

Tanya: Actually Lenore. The workers are meant to be the heroes of this mural.

Lenore: No Tanya. When I look with a modern eye, I see someone like Ray, teaching history year after year to ungrateful kids. Or maybe that’s you Tanya at Wagner and Finch, in a washed out yellow jumpsuit.

-Hung

***

Much is to be said about growing up. First, it sucks. Second, it just plainly sucks: Youth and vigor, gone. Awesomeness, diminished. Sharpness, ugh. Don’t let me start on this one. Dude you are bound to become a thicker plank by the minute. I couldn’t even recall who MTV Asia’s January 1999 Artist of The Month was anymore. I used to be good at this shit. Is it Michael Learns to Rock? Fuck. And that’s coming from me, who is not yet even 21. ish.

If you look in the mirror and you are no longer look like a gangly teen with a humungous head, then you, my friend are an adult.

Probably with no job, or with a crappy job, or even with a job, it’s all the same; Adulthood is one bitch who would screw you over like an extended summer without cash. Yes, could it be any more heartbreaking? Just done with graduation and you’re cash-strapped, Two words: Social. Suicide. But hey if it’s any consolation, it just wasn’t your social life who went dormant like The Stroke’s career. Everyone else’s had too.

And when time comes that you actually rise above that conundrum, adulthood could take in a form of a cunt. Yes, that C word you wouldn’t dare calling a Jersey girl with. And yes, like that boss of yours from that crappy job who think she’s all that. In fact she could be some rude condescending little pig who would treat anyone with intentionally messy hair with disgust. Oops, my story. Besides, I wasn’t there to impress her. Who would?! And mind you, my bedhead was sexy. It just wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea. I would have made my brother from another mother Kurt Cobain proud.

Simply put, adulthood is one ho you just have to deal with whether you like it or not. It’s what you make out of it that actually matters. Would you rather play the victim card and let yourself be railroaded, or do the reverse cowgirl with some helicopter to that word you dread to hear when used in a serious context (and not the dirty kind)?

These past few weeks, from my new job which 60% of the time I think is a blast, I’ve had to deal with people I would never want to have anything to do with. When they start doing that thing they do, I just remind myself that some people were unloved as kids that they have take out their insecurities and frustrations on anyone who looks and is doing good. Like, dafuq? Seriously? That in itself is quite comforting,

Hey did I just sound like an adult but not quite? It’s getting there. I know I’m a piece of work.

So next time, when you look in the mirror and you see a bit of grey hair and fine lines, that my friend is a sign of growing old. Adulthood, is such a big word that everyone has their personal take on it. It would be a shame to contain it in a certain box.

It’s just like how Love Marie Ongpauco, the eternal crush, groped for words to describe why she likes The Calling’s “Stigmatized”.

“It’s like, you know. Basta”

Wow. It took me a decade to realize that it was a pure genius moment happening before my very eye.

***

Ray: Can we get to the point?

Lenore: Glance to the top. You see that doughy Asian person and that manish woman holding rocks? That – those fat people could be us. If we can change our way of operating, I believe there’s a place for us in the mountains.

Ray: What about these clenched hands?

Lenore: To me that represents fisting Ray.

I Invented Post-its

If you’re ready to throw in the towel, can you at least say that, as a living organism, you've ‘made it’?

“And until you told me that our lives weren’t good enough, I thought everything since high school was a blast…”

-Michelle Weinberger, Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion

In one of those exchanges of cerebral inputs, I found myself shocked to discover that, despite his achievements he collected through the years, my friend still thinks life has overcome him. Over Rum shots, another buddy, fessed up his frustration towards still not making it. And by that, I truly think he’s referring to some sort of a Kurt Cobainish kind of thing. You know, wherein he’s supposed to achieve rock cult superstardom and just die. God forbid.

But what exactly does making it means?

I made it through college despite being myself. That in itself is worthy of a celebration. Ramona made it through Turkey despite security. She even made it through life despite looking like a boy. With humongously big bones (redundancy needed). And that hobo man from across the street made it through the rain last night. In fact, he’s still making it, dirty disheveled clothing/messy surfie hair and all, as we speak.

This got me thinking, if the proverbial making it has turned itself into being more than just a fad; has our generation just found itself in an era in which dreams are supposed to be within reach but not? Have we become deludanoids?

Tone deafs are auditioning in almost all singing competitions. Self-explanatory.

Everyone tag themselves ‘models’. Uh no hon, maybe someday when you can finally work on your height, or angles… or face.

Anyone who’s got a fancy camera label themselves ‘photogs’. Then quit using that auto function for chrisfuckingsakes!

Even people who graduated from some token far-flung branches/’sister’ (yeah right) schools of certain colleges develop that audacity to say that they went to this school and that. I say ‘UP Diliman is UP Diliman. And UP Los Baños is UP Los Baños. And whatever UP system you’re from, that’s where YOU’RE from. Don’t push it..”

Blame it on American Idol. Seriously, do we really want to put ourselves in the company of William Hung, Bikini Girl, and Tatiana Del Toro?

My point exactly.

Then why is everyone so caught up in making it big and measure up to great expectations?

Romy and Michele went to their 10-year high school reunion claiming they invented Post Its. Romy was a cashier. Michele was unemployed. And until Romy told Michele, that their lives weren’t good enough, Michele thought life since high school was a blast.

So who gives a flying fuck with what everyone thinks? Beavis and Butthead, I saw them recently, and they seem happy and content watching tv and making fun of Jersey shore. Now, would we really want to be labeled as that bloke who really tried so hard to make it and didn’t that he killed himself or that funny guy who made it in life having fun?

Because at the end of the day, it all boils down to what having ‘made it’ means for you.