It's Been A While...

So, it's been a few months since I've updated this blog. Suddenly felt like I had to write again, so here it is.

Umm... well...

*sigh*

Lately, all I've felt like doing is punch a wall, take a sword to tree, cry, throw up, sleep, then do it all over again. The past two months have been all but devastating on my emotions, due to things (that I'm not quite so comfortable talking about here) happening consecutively. I guess, because of these "things," I've been much more exhausted than usual, and they've sapped me for almost all I have.

"Much more exhausted than usual." THAN USUAL. Which means I am ALWAYS EXHAUSTED. From what, you may ask? Well, from living, apparently. I'm frustrated, sad, lonely, not at all confident in myself, and see no purpose in waking up every morning. There's nothing I can offer this world, and it has nothing it can offer me. I've... "lost" the ability to appreciate life. I've lost the will to try new things, for fear that I'll mess up or fail or get hurt one way or another. I feel worthless and I hate what I see in the mirrors everyday, and I keep wishing that every time I fall asleep will be the last time I'll ever have to fall asleep again. I stay in my room and wait for time to pass, because my room is safe and nothing can come in masqueraiding as a blessing only to leave me and hurt me.

Am I content? Probably. Am I happy? God, no.

I decided to see a psychiatrist to find out if he could help. I told him everything. Every painful detail of my past and present, my thoughts, feelings, habits... everything.

His diagnosis was low-grade depression.

Christ.

I'm one of them, I thought to myself.
People are gonna think I'm making this shit up so they pay more attention to me and shower me with love and flowers and kind words and puppies and all that.

God, no. I have too much respect for people with mental illnesses. I'd never fake it. I just never realized I'd been one of them for... who the hell knows how long.

Apparently, one of the reasons my depression is "low-grade" is because, while I've constantly fantasized about my death, I've yet to actually plan out or attempt taking my own life. So I guess I'm not as far gone as I thought? I dunno. I'm sort of... numb(?) at the moment. But also teeming with emotions that sort of cancel each other out, so I'm not exactly doing much expressing of anything lately. Not sadness, nor fear, nor joy, nor pain. Right now, I'm just sort of... nothing.

I'm on a pill right now to help me get better. Taking half dosages for now to check for side effects. There don't seem to be any, so I'll likely start taking full dosages by next week. Not sure what exactly they're supposed to do, though. Something about... serotonin and repairing synapses in the brain... I forget the details. I'll probably Google it someday.

I just hope they work. I feel like I'm long overdue for this sort of treatment and I want to take control of my life again. I don't want this to beat me, but sometimes I forget to fight back because of how utterly tired and hopeless it makes me feel.

"Life is wonderful" is permanently inked on my fucking arm, for goodness' sake. I thought having those words tattoed on myself would remind me to always see every new day as another way to pursue happiness.

I just want to believe those three words again. Because, to be perfectly honest...

... it's been a while.

Weird. But good!

OKAY SO...

This has been a pretty weird day. I mean, look back on my posts and you'll see how I'm usually so depressed and sad and gross but WOW. THIS DAY.

I actually feel amazing today. Happy, energized, optimistic, and actually armed with the will to live. I don't know exactly what it is about this day but I am just FEELING it.

Need some elaboration? Okay, here's how today went.

- Left the house earlier than usual because I had to go to the bank to make a payment to the studio that handled the production of my original songs (which are turning out REALLY well, if I may toot my own horn a bit).
- Missed lunch. Ate some chips and a can of soda instead. Satisfaction level: excellent
- Walked in mud because they're fixing the street outside. Shoes smelled gross the entire day. Didn't care.
- Class for the day was uneventful. Better than bad, I guess.
- Went and got a schedule for my second recollection day. It's a school requirement and a prerequisite to a retreat, which I have to take next term because I'm supposed to be graduating then. (I was worried I wouldn't be able to get a schedule for the recollection since it's rather late in the term already. Getting a schedule this term means I won't have to be delayed another term.)
- The line to pay for the recollection fee was long and my phone had already died. Passed the time by singing to myself.
- Found a bassist to perform with me for our thesis presentation. (Thank you, Eddie!)
- I legit DANCED a little bit.
- I ate an Oreo cheesecake cookie. It was 20 pesos but mmmmmm it was scrumptious.
- Got schedules to borrow the studio at school for the last bit of recording and mixing. EP is almost ready for submission!
- Came home. Nothing much else happened. Decided to type all this up.
- Then there was CAKE! :O

What an awesome day. I hope tomorrow's just as good, if not better. :3

Bad habit

It's been a while. There's always some huge time gap between my blog posts and I think it's become clear that I only ever come back here to unload my thoughts before they build up inside me and I explode. It's a bad habit, but here I am to do exactly that.

I remember nearly a year ago, I had a kind of emotional breakdown for some reason or another and I just completely bawled my eyes out in front of everyone and it was pretty embarrassing and kinda gross. I had to start seeing a guidance counselor every so often after that incident and it helped in some way because I was able to really start asking myself questions that led me to answers that I needed to combat the sadness that has just been so relentless in trying to surface no matter how many times I bury it. I learned through reflection, self-analysis, and objective reasoning that happiness (or, at the very least, peace) is a choice you have to make whenever life ambushes you with new problems. And I've done that quite well, for the most part. I've done my best to stay positive, keep the sadness inside from sprouting, hide the pain until I forget it's even there.

But I need to concede the truth: I will never truly stop being sad.

It sounds hypocritical, especially after I just said that happiness is a choice. But it's naive to think that you can pick what emotions to feel through sheer force of will. You can only suppress your feelings, never change them. You can keep them inside, hide them, show people something else on the outside, show them you're okay, and that you're strong so they don't look down on you with pity.

This is how it is nearly everyday. Sometimes I forget that I'm lonely and stressed and maybe a little bit angry with myself for not being straight or desirable or talented or responsible or disciplined or "normal." I try to change what I can, I really do. But there's always that sadness inside. Sometimes I forget it's there, but I guess it's always had a hold on me, despite how deeply I bury that fucker.

I know why I am sad. There are things about me I cannot change that get in the way of me being truly happy. I cannot change my orientation, or my personality. I can't change that I'm sarcastic and obsessive and clingy and overdependent on the affections of my friends in order to get through every fucking day without wanting to cry, and that if I don't get frequent reaffirmation that I am actually wanted in this world from the people I love, I'll somehow convince myself that I am not needed by anyone or that I am a burden even though it's probably not true.

Over the course of writing this blog entry, I've taken several deep breaths, and I've calmed down significantly, though not completely. I'm still fighting back tears, and I'm looking for ways to help me once again forget the sadness that is deeply seeded in my very core.

I heard a quote a little over a month ago that really struck me:
Perfer et obdura; dolor hic tibi proderit olim.
Translated: "Be patient and strong; someday, this pain will be useful to you."

It made me optimistic, and that made me pretty glad. Essentially, just turn the bad things into good things. A simple enough message, sure, and I sure as hell try my best to stick to it.

I just kind of wish the pain wasn't there all the fucking time.

How the hell do you turn this shit off?

Distracting.

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit

Well, it's happened again. I've got feelings for someone. And just my luck, he's straight. Which means of course there's no hope for me. I didn't want to develop any feelings for him, but, well, there it is.

Let me say a few things about him.

He's funny, charming, sweet, intelligent, and an incredible musician with a smile that beams to the moon and back. I've only got a crush on him, as far as he knows, and he's cool with that. We'll even crack jokes about it every now and then. Except, my feelings have gone past that point, and he's got no clue.

We go to the same school, and we're really good friends. We've spent lots of time together among other friends, but once in a while we'll talk privately, whether in person or online. We trust each other with our secrets, and come to each other for advice or comfort during difficult times. You could say we're kind of each other's confidante.

But not this time. I can't talk to him about this. I can't risk ruining another perfectly normal and highly successful friendship by admitting my feelings for someone who'll only feel guilty about not being able to reciprocate. Not a third time. I've learned my lesson.

But it's distracting. He's where my mind goes when it wanders. He's who I try very hard not to stare at when we're in the same room. He's the one whose hand I'm always tempted to hold whenever he sits next to me. He's the one whose little green dot I look for when I go on Facebook, forever wanting to say something but never finding anything worth talking about. He's the one who once jokingly told me "I missed you" one day at school, utterly oblivious to how much he made me blush under those orange lights. He's the one I always hug just a few seconds more than I do other people, since I'm at peace whenever he puts his arms around me and I'm always hesitant about letting him go.

I don't know if I'm in love with him. I'm not sure yet. But I don't want to get there. I'll just be sabotaging my friendship with one of the most outstanding people I've ever met in my whole life.

And it

Just. Really.

Fucking.

Sucks.

What the fuck should I do?
What the fuck CAN I do??

Consider This My Cry For Help

I can't remember the last time I ever felt real, lasting happiness. Up to this point, everything's been just a series of fleeting, almost pointless moments of happiness -- short distractions from the feelings I have everyday. I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know how to fix myself. All I ever want to do anymore is sleep and cry. The only reason I don't is that I insist that every new day will present itself as less depressing than the last. It never is.

I hang out with friends, listen to cheerful music, watch actions and comedies, play exciting video games, eat good food, make jokes for people and make them laugh, I sing, I smile, give out hugs, compliment people regularly, I get invited to places, get included in conversations, and I completely lose it when I see cute little puppies... And although it may sound absolutely selfish, I still don't feel like it's enough. I still feel as if none of it is... real.

As if my existence is only being tolerated, not appreciated.

Like I'm the human Lorem Ipsum.

Here to fill some space, but still so easily replaced.

So easily forgotten.

I try to be positive, and I actually make an active effort to make every day not just survivable, but actually enjoyable. I find excuses to smile, and sometimes resort to inventing my own, no matter how convoluted or shallow they may be. I find comfort in showing affection to my friends, even if it's clear that some of them aren't interested in receiving it, unless it comes in the form of free stuff. Funny how nobody is ever uninterested in receiving free stuff.

It's so tiring. I'm so tired. I've been able to endure it for years, letting the days just keep chipping away at my foundation, but now I'm finally feeling its effects, making me weaker, and now I'm scared. I feel like Humpty Dumpty, and my wall is being eroded by constant doubt, until I eventually fall. And I can never be put back together. I may not even want to be put back together, for fear of breaking again.

I don't know why I feel like this, despite my constant effort to combat it. That just makes me even more frustrated with myself. I don't want to feel like this.

Consider this my cry for help.

Please... someone fix me before I break.

Over

This goes out to my first ever ex-boyfriend.

I know you broke up with me because you thought you couldn't make me happy. I understand that there are parts of your life that you can't control, and those things result in you having little time for me. You broke up with me because you felt like I deserved better. You broke up with me because you thought we needed it.

I am writing this to tell you how wrong your thinking was.

You assumed I was not happy because you had barely any time for me and could never properly express your affections for me. True, there were times that I felt sad because I missed you after not having seen you a few weeks, but I never felt that the time you gave me wasn't enough. It was in fact one of the best feelings, knowing that there was someone who used what little free time they had to go out of their way to come see me. I never complained about that. And whenever you couldn't bring yourself to tell me you loved me? Yes, it was saddening at times especially when I needed to hear it the most. There were nights when I doubted if you loved me at all. Those nights were the most challenging. But I didn't give up on you because I believed you loved me even without those words. You were able to prove it to me, time and again. Hearing or reading the words would have been nice every once in a while, but it was never a requirement. We loved each other, and we were always sure to show it.

You assumed I was not happy because you were not good enough. The truth is that I always thought you were way out of my league. Hell, maybe half the time we were together I was scared that you'd realize that, too. I was always the one feeling inadequate. I'm not good-looking like you, or successful, or intelligent, or own a car, or have any exciting hobbies. All I ever had to offer was my love for you. And I tried to give you as much of it as possible, to compensate for my lack of anything else. You were more... way more than I could have ever asked for. And I had you. And I failed you.

You assumed we needed to break up as it would have been better for us both, considering the circumstances. If only you knew how much you inspired me. If only you knew how much you motivated me to do well in school, so I could graduate, get a job, and finally be able to help build a future with you. You were the reason I strived so hard. Thinking about you, talking to you, having you to cheer me on the whole way, those were my fuel. I thought music was my passion, but never have I felt more passionate about it than when I had you to give me purpose. I wrote songs about you -- about what you meant to me and how happy I was with you. I needed you. I still do.

I have felt angry and depressed at your decision. But I cannot deny that I still love you, and that I miss you and I want you back.

You said this would only be temporary; that someday we'd get back together when things in your work and family life calmed down. You told me you still loved me and that we'd still be friends. Lately, though, we haven't been speaking much. Our conversations are short, cold, awkward, distant, and lifeless. You seem disinterested in me now. Do I not mean anything anymore? Is this how you really feel, or are you just coping? Do you really still love me and are willing to try again someday?

Or is it all over? I hope not. I'm not over you.

I haven't given up on us. Please don't give up on us either. I need you to be my puppy again.

Lunch break. :)

So I have roughly half an hour left on my lunch break. Let's make this quick...

2 days ago, I was assaulted with the fact that I would start taking calls at work. Oh yeah, I have a job now. As a customer support rep for an online game (booyah!) that I am not at liberty to mention the name of. But as far as I knew, I was only supposed to be handling tickets. I had no idea how this task was suddenly imposed on me out of the blue, but I just went with it. I panicked, but I went with it. I have very little room to complain because I'm being paid. I like being paid. Who doesn't, really?

So anyway, yesterday, it began. I got about 5 calls in 3 hours. Doesn't seem like a lot, but these things take forever to finish. I've never been the type who liked to speak to people -- strangers, no less -- verbally. I'm better with expressing my thoughts and opinions through writing and typing and crap. I find it more comforting to know that I can change what I'm going to say before I actually say it. Speaking just gives you too little leeway in terms of taking back what you said in favor of something better that you could have said. I'm verbally inarticulate. I stutter. I stammer. I speak slowly. I take too much time to think of words to say before I actually say them. My knees go numb when I read my own paper in front of class. I can't pronounce long words until I've said them about six hundred times within the last 2 minutes. I sweat profusely when giving a report or presentation.

Now, take all those things, but put me in front of a single person who is asking for my help regarding something that I don't have a single clue about. I don't even know how a credit card actually works --I put it in the machine, type in my code, tell the machine how much money I want, and it gives it to me; that's it -- so I can't be expected to know how yours works. Oh shit, that's actually just an ATM card. See, I don't even know the difference.

This is why this whole experience has got me so down. I've been tasked with helping people with things I have never even had the luxury of time to familiarize myself with. For 2 weeks, we learned as much as we could about the game. And that's just basics. We've had to actually go into the game and learn all the details ourselves. We had no training when it came to handling things like billing or any technical aspect. These are the kinds of things I had absolutely no intention of being a part of. I wanted to help gamers, but only with the things I have the capacity to understand or learn. I'm not happy with knowing that my own incompetence can result in our players not getting what they need. It makes me feel stupid. The last IQ test I took called me a "genius" or "gifted" or something along those lines. I might just be naïve, but I do know that I am more intelligent than I let people see. It keeps those pesky expectations away. Damn expectations.

That said, knowing that I can't put my above-average mental capabilities to good use when trying to deal with customers... I don't like how it feels. It makes me feel like the village idiot.

I'm still trying, though. I'm hoping that I'll get better at this whole "taking calls" fuckery in time, and that I'll get used to all the strange procedures. And I hope I start talking with more sense. I'm not going to quit because of this. The things I -can- do, I do very well. When I do well, I love my job. Hell, I even love my boss. I doubt a lot of people get to say that.

There goes my half hour.
Until next time. :)

We Finally Wake Up...

... As one boy sleeps forever.
September 18. 2011: 14-year old Jamey Rodemeyer takes his own life.

Hundreds of people came to his funeral, yet so few knew him personally.
Thousands of people mourned his death, but have never even seen him before.
Millions of people cried as his idol, an international pop superstar, dedicated a performance just for him.

Jamey Rodemeyer, 14-years old, was a victim of the most underrated hate crime in the world -- bullying. At school, he was insulted, demeaned, humiliated, psychologically tortured... He had had enough. His strength was no longer enough to endure the torment of his peers. He decided to end it all with the ultimate escape: death.

He was gay, was bullied for it, and ultimately died because of it.

He did, however, make the infamous "It Gets Better" video which aimed to inspire and bring hope to the people who were just like him -- not necessarily gay, but misunderstood, neglected, mistreated, hated for being themselves. It is his legacy.

It may be no exaggeration to say that he was Lady Gaga's number 1 fan. Her message contained in the song "Born This Way" served as Jamey's mantra. It was a song that stood for equality among all human beings. It gave him strength and hope, as it continues to do for so many others like him. I suppose the bullying simply eroded his spirit. The hate he endured, the emotional stoning, the soul-crushing verbal abuse was all too much. He cried for help, and nobody who could actually do anything... actually did anything. His calls fell on deaf ears.

Lady Gaga is now on her way to making bullying illegal, for she considers it a hate crime. I respect her a hundredfold for this, for I myself am no stranger to bullying. I'm sure a lot of us are familiar with it. We have either done it, seen it, read about it, imagined it, or endured it ourselves.

Jamey Rodemeyer's death is a wake-up call for society.

Hundreds of teens and young adults are taking their lives because of the unwillingness to endure another day of pain and undeserved emotional thrashing.
Thousands of teens and young adults are contemplating the thought of suicide, unsure if there are people who will care enough to miss them when they are finally gone forever.
Millions of people of all ages continue to kick people who are already down, only because it makes them feel superior, stronger, more important, more admired. Or just because they choose not to understand or sympathize.

If you've ever been bullied for anything... for being gay, fat, short, slow, poor, ugly, for wearing glasses, for having brightly colored socks, for tucking your shirt into your shorts, for reading novels instead of comics, for writing poems instead of playing video games, for planting trees instead of climbing them, for loving your parents when it was deemed lame, for listening to Björk instead of the Black Eyed Peas, for being different in a way that nobody else wanted to understand... please share this post. Let the world know how evil the hate crime of bullying truly is.

Jamey Rodemeyer (@hausofjamey)'s last Tweet was:
"@LadyGaga bye mother monster, thank you for all you have done, paws up forever"


"No matter gay, straight, or bi, lesbian, transgendered life,
I'm on the right track. Baby, I was born to survive.
No matter black, white, or beige, Chola, or orient-made,
I'm on the right track. Baby, I was born to be great."
-Born This Way, Lady Gaga.

His death has trended the following on Twitter:
RIP Jamey
BULLYING IS FOR LOSERS
EVERYONE IS BEAUTIFUL


Rest in peace, Jamey Rodemeyer.
It will get better. We promise.

Shutting Up

A lot of times, I feel like the only people who don't mind me talking are the ones who can't even hear me, or have the option to ignore what I have to say. It's just one of those things that I guess I'm just paranoid about. I always feel like I'm one of those people that people just "don't mind" having around, rather than one that people "like" having around. I'm a footnote, an extra, elevator music, part of the crowd, the background, the wallpaper. I can't even remember a time when anyone I wasn't related to looked forward to seeing me, or bothered to stay long enough to enjoy my company. I don't know who my real friends are. I'm not even sure if I have any.

I've often joked to myself: "What am I doing on all these social networking sites? I hardly even have a social life to begin with." And I'd laugh because I'd convince myself that the 150+ friends I have on Facebook actually were my friends. But upon closer inspection, most of these people are either just my relatives or people I have some kind of insignificant acquaintanceship with. The only people who ever talk to me are the ones that I talk to first. Never has anyone, out of their own free will, chatted me up just to say, "hey, I missed you. How have you been?"

Granted, I do have a few people I hold so close to my heart that they crowd it so much as to leave me clinically dead for a few hours. But I have to ask myself, are these the people who are gonna cry instead of laugh at my funeral if I die of a freak accident involving a dot-matrix printer and a bag of marshmallows? The only answer that comes to mind is "no." But any marshmallow-related death is always funny, so I probably can't blame them if they cry out of side-splitting laughter instead of sorrow.

I guess I'm just not that guy. I've never been that guy -- the one that people would do anything to hang out with regardless of weather conditions, or the one that gets floods of text messages in the morning from people wishing him a good day, or the one that people invite out just so they could share their good experiences with so they have stories to tell and retell each other the next week, or the one that people want to lean on because they know I've got their backs. People don't see me that way, and I don't know how to make them see me that way.

Too often is it said that it's always best to be yourself. Well, that shit doesn't really work for me.

I'm just that somewhat funny, always sarcastic, trivia-filled, book-reading, blog-writing, bad joke-telling, muffin-top-wielding weirdo who sings in the shower and has fake orange hair. I don't know if I'll ever be able to impress anyone just being myself. I can't even impress myself with being myself.

And this is me, already looking on the bright side.

I'm just venting. Nobody really reads my blog anyway. My blog is pretty useless. Just like wallpaper.

I'll shut up now.

My Favorite Bar...

... has no alcohol, no drugs, no hookers, no bouncers, no dancers, no loud music, no syrup or artificial sweeteners added. It's a place few people know of, but it's so great that I had to blog about it. Welcome to Mondo Juice at SM Megamall, where the fruits are fresher than fresh, the food makes you forget your worries, the people are friendlier than your favorite dog, and the drinks cure every disease in existence.

Zoom in close enough, and you might be able to see the names of the items on their menu. Don't worry if you don't find anything that interests you at first; they take requests of mixing the fruits and/or vegetable juices of your preference. Those are Francis (left) and Dan (right) on the side there. They really know how to treat their customers right. Thanks for the great service, guys! ;)

Food, glorious food! Ahem... Yes, they've got a small, but very nice selection of food available. However, not everything is on their menu, or on display, so be sure to ask about what else they've got. My personal off-menu favorite is the Med. Veg. sandwich. It's just one of the few things I have the pleasure of eating at Mondo Juice because of my vegetarianism. It's so damn good, I end up ordering one whenever I have the chance to. I had one earlier today, and I wish I had another one right now. It's pretty addictive, for something made of vegetables.

This beautiful object, dear reader, is what I had today. It's coffee, it's juice, it's cold, and it's wonderful. It's called Banana Buzz, an iced coffee laced with, yep, you've guessed it: bananas. It's already one of my favorite drinks, next to the Banana Mama smoothie and the Banana Bar pastry. They've all got one thing in common. Do you realize what it is yet?

That's right! They're all from Mondo Juice, and they're all fantastic. So when you've got the time, why not stop by for a refreshing drink that's sure to brighten up your life? You'll be glad you did.

Oh, and I emailed my resumé to them, too. I hope I get hired. Just another reason to be at my favorite bar. :D

Happy drinking, everyone! Cheers!

Dear Diar-- uhh, Blog...

I've missed you. I've been meaning to get back to you, but I just haven't had much news to share. Lately I've just been doing a few bad and fairly decent cover songs, cooking some more experimental food, watching a lot of TV, having imaginary conversations with myself, learning a few more pieces for my piano, and sitting on my butt for a long, long time.


Blog, I'm 21 now. I've been 21 for almost a month now. I've stopped going to school, and I'm now trying to improve on my singing. I've mainly been focusing on my Jason Mraz covers, because he's my superhero, and because I'm starting to have a harder time singing higher notes.

Aside from playing my endless online video games, I've been working on a story! Again! This time, it's going much more smoothly. I guess, in a way, I'm practicing and refreshing my literary abilities through you, Blog. I'm so glad I have you. :)


You know, Blog, I've been better. Last year wasn't great, but it was better than how this year's been so far. But you know, I've got my friends, my music, my entertainment, even my family, dysfunctional as it is.

I actually miss a lot of my friends, especially the ones I made when I was still studying in De La Salle - College of Saint Benilde (DLS-CSB). I really want see them and talk to them again, but they're busier than any organism I could mention in any sort of metaphor fitting the situation, so I don't blame them. I may not go to college anymore, but I'm happy that I got the chance to make some of the nicest friends ever, especially when I was still in AB-MMA. (That's Bachelor of Arts in Multimedia Arts -- arguably THE most demanding course in the known universe -- to all you non-Benildeans.) I commend them. Somehow, even through all the stress, they never forget how to stay as decent human beings, and they never forget the people they have ever high-fived, fist-bumped, hugged, called for no reason on their cellphones, played games with, smiled with, laughed with, and cut class with.


Blog, I hope that someday, I could meet all those people again. I want to know how they're doing, what they're up to, how they survived hell on earth, and I want to see what sort of diamonds they've become after being put under the intellectual equivalent of thousands of tonnes of pressure. I, for sure, have a lot more to learn, compared to what they have. Most of them are graduating soon, and as much as I regret not being able to do that with them, I certainly could not be any happier for them. They'll finally become full-fledged artists in their own right. I cannot wait to see what they have to show the world in the future.


That's all for now, Blog. I just wanted to let out all the gooey stuff in my chest that wasn't phlegm. Thanks for being the one to catch it all. Now, you may not be the best blog, but you're the best, Blog. :)

This Blog's Title Doesn't Matter

... Nor does anything else while you're reading this.

The other day, in chemistry class, we were made to watch The Cove, an Academy Award nominated and Oscar winning documentary about the dolphin trade and slaughter happening in Taiji, Japan.

Septembers are officially the worst months of  every year. It is when dolphin hunting season begins in Taiji. They're being slaughtered for their meat, being sold as performance animals, or simply killed because they are (as the Japanese fishermen call them,) "pests" that eat too many of the ocean's fish. Scientific research says otherwise, though. The fish are just fine. They are being eaten at just the right pace, thank you very much.

Dolphin meat is poisoned with Mercury, and this is difficult (or impossible, I forget which is accurate,) to get rid of. Not all Japanese people are aware of the fact that they are even exposed to it. Dolphin meat is sold in supermarkets (labeled as FISH meat), almost ended up as part of mandatory school lunches, and is even sold at snack stands at dolphin shows. As if to add insult to injury...

Mercury... wow. It affects the embryos of pregnant women who eat the stuff in dolphin meat. Mercury degrades the nerve endings developing in unborn children. This causes them to be born (if they are lucky enough to be born at all, under the circumstances,) with physical deformities and mental disabilities. Ironically, a Japanese corporation (whose name escapes me right now) is also responsible for poisoning the oceans that dolphins inhabit. But... yes, it's been happening for many decades.

So anyway, see the link down there? It's a Facebook page of the TDAG, the Taiji Dolphin Action Group. If you can support them, it would be awesome. If you can't support them directly, at least try to find some
people who can. That is, please spread the word.

http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=206102512676

Also, if you would, look for information about a man named Ric O'Barry, who is responsible for the film The Cove. You've probably heard of the iconic dolphin in the movie Flipper. Well, Ric O'Barry was the dolphin trainer of all those separate dolphins who collectively played the character of Flipper. He loves dolphins more than anything else, and more than anyone can. Support him and the cause he... caused.

Actually, forget looking for him. I found him for you. Support!

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Richard-OBarry/241314570366?v=wall

And the documentary's website.

http://www.thecovemovie.com/richardobarry.htm

Please, help us save the dolphins. They've never done anything wrong to us, right? They're apparently smarter than us, very affectionate with us, and even protective of us. Help us protect them as well. Thanks for taking the time to read this. If you leave a comment, I can probably use those to share your thoughts as well. So, yeah. Please leave a comment. Thank you!

-Atom P.

What I Mean When I Mean You Harmony

This is all more or less just an excuse to be blogging again, but whatever.


Okay, so it's only over a week since I came out of the closet, which has been slightly ajar for almost 4 years (which was when I told my best friend I was in love with him), and the reactions I've gotten have been nothing but positive. I've been very much afraid of exposing my true self to a world where people within my age group ridicule and gossip about people like me (that is to say, other than straight) when we don't know it.

While in hiding, I've seen what close-minded people are capable of. They snipe and bash whoever they feel don't belong on the same planet they inhabit. It's painful to know that I have friends on both sides of the great social divide. Some of these friends don't know about me yet, since they don't actually read my blog. However they react to this fact that I am not one of them, so to speak, will determine whether they remain my friends or not. I have no intentions of associating myself with prejudiced people who choose to misunderstand those who NEED closets.

That said, I think I should prepare myself for the worst. I know how not to give in to those suicidal urges I had almost 5 years ago. Oh, have I not mentioned that? Yeah, I used to cut myself. Thankfully, the cuts were usually shallow, and healed without leaving a scar. Except for one distinct one on my left wrist, which I look at every time I feel hopeless. It reminds me that I've survived the worst, and things can only get better.

And things are indeed getting better. A few of my relatives know about me, and so do a few of my selected friends (including the two aforementioned guys). They've accepted me for how I am, and it makes me feel like I've made good decisions in friend choice. I worry more about those who haven't found out yet. But as much as I'd hate to lose my friends because of something that I am, as opposed to something that I did, I'd much rather be myself, not changing for anyone else's preference. After all, I'm an artist, and artists value individuality over all else. Those who don't, well... should.

And to finally get to the point of my blog, here's what I mean, when I mean you harmony:

In the same way the beautiful music is created with a combination of different good notes, different good instruments, and different good voices, society must consist of good people, who are all different, and are all capable of complementing each other, not pushing each other away. I want to work on that. I want to have harmony in life, society, and love. I've got the right idol (that being the social and environmental activist Jason Mraz), and I want to be an active supporter. I want people to be supporters as well.

People will be male, female, straight, gay, bi, or any combination of those. They can be of any race, too. Accept them as they are. They probably just want some harmony as well.


Help us attain harmony.
You'll be glad you did.

Thanks for reading. And for caring. And for the virtual cookies you feed me every time you do.

-Atom P.

A Maintenance Post

I don't really understand what's going on with me. I'm usually brimming with words that want to be heard and read, but I can't seem to make things coherent enough to actually blog. I haven't blogged in over 2 months! That's how wasted my mind is. The usual suspects are responsible for the delay in my output: laziness, school, uninspired-ness, life in general...


I've been quite frazzled with myself lately. I've been sleeping late, for no reason, listening to the same songs over and over and over and OVER again, not willing to expand my musical vocabulary yet, figuring out what my heart wants while my mind contradicts it all. I'm confused. I'm getting desperate.


I want to get this out in the open once and for all. I'm bi. But I've known love. Like, REAL love. You'll know it's real love when your heart beats slower instead of faster, so that time slows down for you personally when the one you love walks into the room, or into your mind. In my lifetime, I've fallen in love with 2 guys and 2 girls. None of them have returned the affection, so I've currently succumbed to the fact that I'm not ready to have a relationship yet with anybody. Fortunately, one of those guys happened to be my best friend, and although he may not have the capacity to reciprocate the feelings I had (or have) for him, our friendship has remained intact. I am grateful to him for that.


I am also grateful for having the capability of expressing love to whomever I choose. And through experience, I've learned that it doesn't matter if you get love back, as long as you know you're giving it. I think that's a blessing. I say that even though I'm not religious.

I'm happy with what I am. All you homophobes can kiss my ass as I fart my optimism in your faces. Expect some shit along the way, though.


So, matters of the heart aside, there's the matter of who I am. I am a walking contradiction. I'm principled but immature. I'm fat, I'm lazy, I hate to move, but I love to dance. I'm shy, I'm introverted, but I love all my friends. I get stage-fright, but I love to perform. I'm intelligent, but my grades are always low. I'm good at everything, but I'm great at nothing. I wait all night, but I don't know what I'm waiting for. I'm objective, but highly emotional. I solve my own problems by discussing them with my pillows, and pretending that they can talk back to me (even though I'm fully aware that I'm essentially talking to myself, and sometimes I even disagree with myself). I'm probably crazy, but I speak with near-perfect grammar. I manually type the "http://" in the address bar when I surf the internet, I never use shorthand when chatting or texting, but I keep summarizing the world. I'll begin reading 10 different novels and finish less than half of those before I move on to new ones. I've got an affinity for the random, but I think logically.

I'm the blurred line between brilliance and insanity. That's a really, really thin line, people. That just means I'm special. :)
 

As I'm rereading my blog entry before I post, I realize that this became less of a maintenance post and more
of an exodus from my metaphorical turtle shell. This could be because I know hardly anyone cares enough to read this blog, or because I don't want any of my personal secrets canned up in me anymore. I love life, and I love to laugh, and I love to love the people who deserve it. I'm happy. The people I care about are happy. I'm not gonna waste my time worrying about what everyone else thinks of me.



Within the secrets we hide well,
Our hearts are waiting to reveal
Emotions bursting out to tell
The ones we love just how we feel.


-Atom P.

Let's Face It: Physics is F=µN.

If you're done with high school (and I'm willing to bet that 99.9% of you are), then you're familiar, more or less, with the subject of physics. To some, it's that mind-corrupting hour filled with fractions, exponents, and a whole bunch of unheard-of terminologies that are close to meaninglessness. To others, it's an excuse to type in "58008" on their calculators then look at it upside-down. Fortunately for us, we got the pleasure of being taken under the wing of one Miss Arra C. Quitaneg, a young and bubbly professor of NATSC14 (code for "College Physics") at De La Salle - College of Saint Benilde (DLS-CSB).

She had this special touch, an air about her that made our classes fun and exciting. She usually had some toy or trick prepared to catch everyone's attention in class, as if we were all about 10 years old. She wasn't even afraid of sharing with us her love for singing, which many of us in class, including myself, could relate to as Music Production students. I've yet to have a class as much fun as she had made ours.

And as if to tease, she had assigned us, her students, to prepare a physics-related project based on our respective courses. Music Production, Theater Design, Architecture, and others, all had their own agenda.

Yesterday, our class, Miss Arra included, had the pleasure of witnessing each others' talents. It was astounding, to say the least. Here are a few snapshots, taken by my good friend and classmate, a budding professional musician (and photographer, perhaps?), Mel Roño. I suggest you take note of these people's names; they'll most likely be up in lights someday. You'll notice I'm not here, because the camera hates me. (At this point, I laugh at myself.)


The very beautiful and very talented Ms. Andrea Moredo:

School choir members (left to right):  Tenor: Nico Angeles, and Sopranos: Ronica Mae "RM" Mangahas and Ana Almenario

(Left to right,) Class Clown: Nolan Diosana, Walking Jukebox: Alex Salva, and our resident Snapshot Connoisseur, Mr. Nomel Roño himself:

And finally, not to be shown up by her own students, up on stage here is Ms. Arra herself (with Alex loitering in the background). :P

So, all in all, it was a surprisingly fun time of showing off what we could. So much diversity in a single physics class. Plenty of energy to go around. Pun intended.

 F=µN is the equation of Friction, solved by taking the coefficient of static friction (µ, pronounced as "mew") and multiplying it by the Normal Force (N) applied. It's the very first equation I learned in the class. We all should have seen this coming. Is it any coincidence that a solution would be spelled that way?


Classmates, Friends,
NATSC14 is possibly the funnest class I've attended since entering DLS-CSB. I'd like to thank you all for making it memorable and exciting, and hopefully I'll see you guys in future classes.


Ms. Arra,
Thank you very much for taking an allegedly mind-numbing class and livening it up with your sunshiny personality and patience. I'm sure I speak for everyone when I say that we all had a great time with you as our professor.

I hope to keep seeing you all around campus.

Best wishes,
Atom P.

Whatever Doesn't Kill You...

It's true what those people on TV tell you: "Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger." Except of course if the thing that doesn't kill you turns out to be some chemical substance that destroys your ability to function your voluntary muscles and turns you into a vegetable for the rest of your life, but that's beside the point.

Today, my mom returned from the hospital where she had been confined for a week. She was rushed to the hospital due to... meh... I'll call it "severe fatigue" since that's what everybody chooses to call it. Let it be known, though, that tears were shed, cigarettes were lit, voices were raised, patience and patients were tested, lawyers were called, testimonies were written, constitutional acts were read, and eyes turned red.

Legal action... Yeah. I met an actual lawyer for the first time in my life. Or maybe I've met other lawyers in the past but I was too ignorant to realize they were lawyers. Needless to say, my playthroughs of the entire Ace Attorney game series on the NDS sparked my intrigue in the legal system. I enjoyed reading the act on Violence Against Women and Their Children. Awesome stuff in there.

Hospitals are funny places. People get sick or injured, one way or another. That's unavoidable. The beautiful paradox that is the hospital is the one place where all kinds of drama can ensue. Where else is there a more beautiful, albeit depressing moment, than a boy whose existence on the planet was to be cut short due to a terminal cancer, surrounded by his loving family and friends, with him letting them know that his 15 short years of life were the best anybody on the planet could ask for. Where else could you possibly find a more triumphant moment than a child, nearly drowned at the beach, waking up with her family by her side and realizing that it could all have been just a very bad dream.

Or a mom who overcame her self-inflicted, fear-induced, near-death experience, to continue living and keep on keeping on, to experience all that the world has yet to offer: the tears, the laughs, the pains, the reliefs, the weakening times, and the empowering ones. She may see herself as having failed the family, but we hold nothing against her. Although, it's true, she did fail at the last thing she tried to do... and we're glad she did.

Mom,
Gravity can't keep birds from flying.
Don't let what brings you down, keep you down.

Much love,
Atom P.

The Overture of Me.

Today is Thursday, August 12, 2010. It's 10:54pm (according to my laptop clock). This is the first time I've ever made a blog. I'm trying to keep this as candid as possible, so it feels authentic, spontaneous, and free. Anyway, here's me... Enjoy.


Full name: Andrew Thomas Mendoza Portillo
Birth Date: January 4, 1990.
Zodiac Sign: Capricorn
Country of Origin: Philippines
Height: 5'6"
Blood Type: A
Hobbies: Music, Video Games, Badminton, TV, Singing, Pokémon (kiddish, I know), and loving life.

- Atom P.