Marooned

They say when you’re down and out, go to that place where you were once trampled and try to spit at its face screaming “Look where I am now!” Just to feel good about yourself.

And damn right, it works. In a reverse psychology kind of way. Some people conjure happy thoughts to keep the depression at bay. I think of the previous dismal points in my life (and there is an entire gold mine) to convince myself that I am in a better place now. No matter what I am going through. Life is unfair that way. It can get harder as it gets better.

I am having this horrid week and by some twist of irony, I found myself in this redeeming situation. Unknowingly. I was driving around on official business and mulling about what I would like to call occupational hazards. And I soon realized I am in a very familiar territory. Not that I have not returned here since I left. It’s just that everything is relative to the emotions you are feeling.



I don’t know if it was the heat which reminded of those punishing summers of not so long ago. But under the entangled embrace of the trees that lined the oval, the memories came rushing back.

And what is a cinematic moment without a musical score. My iPod that was playing on shuffle suddenly coughed out MJ’s song Childhood. Have you seen my childhood? I chuckled.

I see the familiar sporting a different look. Same old brand new things. I realize that things may change physically but their epitomes are immortal. Like the street names now boast of a different color but to me it’s the same old street. The streets where this journey began.

I saw the same queue on jeepney stops where I wasted countless hours scrambling for a ride home. There are the same anxious and constipated faces hurrying to destinations unknown or sitting lost in thought on the building steps. Students who look older than they are, burdened by the sins of their past and the uncertainty of their future. Some years ago I was one of these people. I want to tell them now that they have every right to be distraught. Being there is just a ticket. A deceitful ticket. It gets you IN but it doesn’t get you THERE. You’ll know what I am saying the moment you step out of the cocoon of those halls. Cue in Ryan Seacrest saying “Welcome to the real world, baby!”

I saw the old tambayan where I learned about love and adult life and everything in between. Lunch conversations over sticks of barbeque infested by the occasional falling caterpillars. Vacant hours spent shuffling a deck of cards and flinging coins. The logbook that whispers pages of secrets and confessions. The politics and the juvenile drama.

And then there was the building where I spent my last years. I remembere it as grey and cold (though it is now painted); a showcase of luxury and apathy. Very representative of the people who thrives in there. This building is my downfall and my salvation. My first real taste of bitter reality. Outside looking in. It took me a lifetime to erase its tang from my mouth. This is where I developed my shell of indifference and my talent for self-dependency.

Now comes the church where I made a wager with God himself. He kept half of His promise, and I kept the half of mine. But by then I was already broken beyond repair. I already morphed into a cynic. Like REM, I lost my religion. Which is really different from losing your faith. Faith is belief, religion is rules.

The memories are getting heady but I am starting to feel a sense of fulfilment. Somehow going back to where my real journey started made me realize how far I’ve come. It may not be that far for some people but in my personal yardstick, it is. Somehow hitting rock bottom makes you appreciate the bouncing back, regardless whether it comes in pulsing increments. This rewarding feeling is forever lost to people who have been so used to being in the stratosphere.

I hurriedly did my official business there. And left. That day, looking back became my calming salve. It is a lesson in humility and a recharging of my pride.

Driving out, my iPod shuffled out R. Kelly’s Fly Like An Eagle. Ok, Mr. Musical Scorer...I think you got the wrong song. No offense but I’m not THAT blue.

Flying Without Things (Excess Baggage Not Allowed)

Once in a long while, a movie comes poised to slap you in the face and pat your back at the same time. Up In The Air is that kind of movie. It patronizes and mocks the person that you are. A satire where no one is laughing because while it was fun, it was almost cruel in its intense honesty.



Up In The Air is a cosmopolitan dramedy that humanizes the antiseptic lifestyle of a modern alpha male (modern existential man, to be exact). A man who looks at himself and finds his value in VIP cards and frequent-flyer miles. Ryan Bingham (George Clooney) is a professional Shiva. He is in the business of firing people, sugar-coating job termination as an opportunity to chase your other dreams. He lives a high life that is spent mostly in-transit and doing the dirty work that corporations have no balls to do themselves. He is deeply in love with his job and its platinum-card privileges. He seldom comes home; and home to him means priority airport lounges and humdrum hotel rooms. A self confessed cynic, he has isolated himself from his family, from relationships and people in general. Hmmm.

Enter two women who will shake Ryan's clockwork world. Alex (Vera Farmiga), the female version of himself who engages Ryan in a casual relationship which will soon turn into his sweetest disappointment. And Natalie (Anna Kendrick a.k.a. Twilight’s Jessica), an ambitious newcomer who has a brilliant idea of using the internet to sack people professionally. She makes Ryan squirm in insecurity and she questions his philosophy in a bid to make him see the other side of being human. Alex is the Ryan now, Natalie is Ryan from 10 years ago. Alex is the karma, Natalie is the conscience.

Take out the hot girls and Ryan will look like someone I know. As a friend who knows me so well has pointed out, this is the Hollywood adaptation of my life. In a crude kind of way. My life, my rules, my philosophy. Yes, my backpack.

All the telltale signs are there. Single man who enjoys a thriving career and non-existent “life.” A lifestyle made by choice, mind you. I almost smiled at Ryan’s radical philosophy: What’s in your backpack? He preaches that relationships with people and things tie you down and if you rid yourself of those you are free...well, up in the air.

In Ryan’s wise words, I am travelling light; I am living a life that is divested of relationships and all other things. My life is ruled by my job and I am deliberately alone most of the time. And guess what...I am not complaining. This is the life I have wanted and designed for myself. This is the life I am used to. My rhyme and reason. I know most people don’t understand it. But if being boring and two-dimensional meant that life will be less complicated, then I am in this boat alone. No frills, no fireworks. Simplicity is the spice of my life.

I often wondered at what point did I exactly de-sensitized my existence. I really can’t tell. I think it was the sum of all fears, doubts, disappointment and letdowns. Over the years, I have tried different versions of myself. And lately I have settled for what is most comfortable; the path of least resistance. I play the run-of-the-mill guy who exudes cool awesomeness under pressure but with a suppressed caustic side. Hard candy with a surprise center.

The movie ended with a sharp sting, perhaps the most sophisticated and heartbreaking ending in silverscreen history. Like most great movies, it leaves more questions than answers.

Yes, I have anticipated that kind of ending to my story. I’ll confess that there are times when I feel empty and hollow. Pointless even. But I prefer this to being caught up in a tangle of emotions and I see attachment as a double-edged sword. I’ll admit that sometimes paranoia creeps in. What if I die alone in my rented house and it will take days before anyone realizes I’m gone? What if people will stare at my sarcophagus and realize that they know me but never really KNOW me.

How about some self pity...what happens during those winning moments? Will I be like Ryan and celebrate the realization of my platinum dreams with a total stranger? But then I realize that if I am man enough to own this lifestyle, then I’m also man enough to face the consequences.

I’ve also asked myself if I am master or if I am slave. In my search for stability, maybe I have trapped myself within a mechanical routine. That in trying to avoid the high and lows, I ended up running in circles. And I like it that way.

Under its high gloss production (it's a Clooney vehicle for crying out out), Up In The Air is actually brutal and hard hitting in its emotional truth; an entertaining depiction of modern socio-economics. In more ways than one, I find this movie deeply comforting if not a little disturbing. I always thought that I was fighting a battle of my own. That all the previous events in my life have conspired to bring me to this point. Little did I know that I am only one of many. I was churned out of a cookie cutter after all.

The next time someone asks me why I am devoted to a life of lucrative solitude, I’ll just smile and say: I’m up in the air.

Pop Goes My Saturday

The god of time management smiled at me today.

If you have a schedule as toxic as mine, then lazy Saturdays come as unexpected surprises. It belongs to the same wishlist as at least 6 hours of sleep and vacations without official phone calls. Even if I vowed to work my arse off from Monday to Friday to free-up my weekends, my weekend to-do list is simply inexhaustible.



A lazy weekend for me would mean no work and no chore. Just time to do the things I love: sleep, read, blog, tweet, sleep, listen to music, watch TV or a movie, sleep, and a fitness activity here and there. No official emails, no preparing for Monday meeting or business review, no organizing of accumulated paperwork.

If there is one thing I learned about time management, it’s that you have to MAKE time. That “I have no time” should not be an excuse.

Since I will be somewhere far on Monday-Tuesday, I persevered to finish most of my work stuff last Friday. Even if it meant staying at the office until 10PM.

And the unexpected reward is I have this Saturday on cruise control. Woot-hoo!

So I slept till the bed was too hot for my own good (no dirty thoughts please...the bed is facing east). Then I finished my household chores before 10AM. I perused a couple of chapters of the book and I have been reading (still Carlos Ruiz Zafon); dozing off every now and then.

I was enroute to Bulacan by 2PM. Cue in backtrack music from Mellow 947’s Decade playlist. I used to cringe when my parents listen to 60’s/70’s music during weekends. Now I look forward to weekends when I can again hear the music of my teenage years gone by. Even if I have them on my iPod anyway.

After lunch I dozed off again while watching TV. I woke up and resumed channel surfing, eventually settling for TMZ, American Idol and snippets of Glee. Yes, I need my fill of pop culture.

It’s during lazy times like this when I get to listen to myself and discover certain things:

1) That when I have time in my hands, my neat freak self rears its organized head. I pay homage to my OC genes. I don’t stop until my room is spic and span. And my weekend bags packed and re-packed to perfection.

2) Which goes to show why I like watching home improvement shows and reading home improvement magazines. If I am not in Marketing, I would have made a career as a home improvement consultant. But only the organizing part. I’m not that creative for interior design.

3) That I am still fascinated with reality shows. I just watched Bill and Juliana’s reality show on Lifestyle. I know Bill as the first The Apprentice winner. How a smart guy like him can marry a so-so hottie stirs my interest. As a fan of reality show, I would know if some scenes are scripted. And their show is 70% scripted!

4) That I have become an American Idol fanatic. I caught the re-run of the boy’s Top 10 performances and this early I am predicting that the 2010 American Idol will again be a boy. So far, I like Lee, Aaron, Tim and Alex. Aaron reminds me of David Archuleta; Lee might be the next Chris Daughtry.

5) That I have placed TMZ’s Harvey is some sort of pedestal. Don’t be surprised if I will soon sport a red tumbler with straw. And start spewing (the usual) sarcasticisms (yes, I just invented this word).

Sleep. Check. Read. Check. Blog. Check. TV. Check. Tweet. Check.

Hopefully I can still catch a movie. I am planning to watch an Oscar contender this weekend (still choosing between Precious and The Blind Side). I’m not too excited about the Oscars on Monday as I haven’t seen most of the films (yes, even Avatar). But for sheer beauty of its title and because I usually root for the underdogs, I am rooting for The Hurt Locker.

Excuse me while I prep the DVD and get some snacks. My Saturday night is just starting.

Tomorrow is another story. I have to work. Oh, sick cycle carousel!

On A Geo-Physical High

Note: Pardon the delay; I wrote this blog a few hours after the Chile quake hit. But it is only now that I had time to post it.

I am on a natural and geo-physical high. I know this sounds inappropriate considering the alarming turn of events of the past few hours: the 8.8 magnitude Chile quake and the Pacific-wide tsunami alert.



And yes, I know this sounds a little too geeky. But geology is one of my first loves, even pre-dating my love for the written words.

Blame it on this one summer vacation we spent at the grandparent’s residence. The only book I saw was a hard-bound Science textbook. I think it was part of a grade-school encyclopaedia, the kind given by the US Salvation Army to further our Western education. Anyway, for lack of anything entertaining to do, I perused the said book. It was a volume on the Earth and its physical properties. Ergo, the birth of my fascination with Geology. I remember thinking why it was called Earth when it was plainly Water (considering that it was ¾ water!). You can tell my sarcastic genes are fully developed even as a child.

Then in college, as I was pursuing my ill-fated first degree, I took Geology as a Science elective. And what do you know, my grade is Geology was way better than my major subjects. And I impressed the teacher since Day One. During our first class, she asked what the different kinds of rocks are and their differences. Of course, I did not raise my hand (I am not a fan of recitations). No one dared to answer. So she drew a random card from the recently-submitted class cards and called out my name. I recited the answer, remembering it word-for-word from that Science text book of my childhood summer. Teacher smiled in satisfaction and remembered my name since then. I almost shifted to Geology if not for my family threatening to disinherit me if I pursued a degree that is a “hobby” rather than a “profession.”

Fast forward to today. Before going out last night, I already saw the breakings news on CNN about the Chile quake. Oh no, not this soon. A quake is still a sensitive global concern, considering that the ghost of the Haiti quake is still lurking in the background. And when I got back, it was still the breaking news but now CNN is heralding the possibility of a tsunami hitting the Pacific countries, in a tone that is almost apocalyptic. Who can forget the tsunami that raced across the Indian Ocean a day after Christmas 2004 (following a magnitude 9 quake in Indonesia)? An unspeakable number of people died in countries as far as half the world away (in Africa).

That tsunami was an eye-opener and painful lesson. Now I am amazed at how sophisticated the tsunami warning system has become. They can even predict the probable time and the path it will take. Of course, it’s not an exact science but a little paranoia is better than a repeat of the Banda Aceh tragedy. These days, they had a lot of reference data, saying that a similar quake (one of the strongest in history) happened in the 1960’s and spun tsunamis as far as Australia and the Philippines.



I just don’t know how the local government will react should the Pacific Warning System declare that a tsunami hit is imminent. Frankly, after Ondoy, I lost faith in the system. In a third-world kind of irony, media has become more reliable than government and Kris Aquino can unite us better than the president.

As of press time, smaller-than-expected tsunamis have struck the smaller Pacific islands but damage was thankfully conservative. The tsunami warning has been lifted in most of the territories including Eastern Philippines.

A few minutes ago, I was sitting in my parked car while waiting for my Mom. Engine was turned off and to kill time I was deleting some messages on my phone. Then I felt the earth heave. I was gripped by fascinating terror. I checked to see if a big truck has passed which might have caused the movement. None. The slight tremor continued for a few seconds. If I had some animals near me, I could have confirmed from their sound and expression if there was actually a quake.

I remembered a similar incident in high school. It was wee hours of the morning and I was finishing my Drafting plate. I was enveloped by the usual sounds of night time: crickets, occasional barking dogs and the rickety sounds of a house settling. Suddenly everything was silent; like I was abruptly immersed in a vacuum. Uh-Oh...tell-tale signs! True enough the ground started to shake. I felt it and saw it because the technical pen I was holding went crazy, as if mimicking a seismograph; almost ruining my precious drawing.

I don’t know if I am just paranoid or a slight quake really hit today at around 10AM. But still I am amazed by it all. Ah, the power of nature. In some way, it puts things in perspective. To realize we are just an insignificant piece in this jigsaw puzzle called the Earth.

***

P.S. Just some comic relief: Every time I would type the word quake on this blog, I would end up typing quaker. You know, the famous oatmeal brand. Which goes to show what I have been used to these days. I’m so NOT a geographer.

Update: No quake happened that Sunday. It was just my paranoia trying to shake my boots.