Gosh. It’s been a while since the last time I put up something here. I have to admit I missed blogging. Isn’t it a relief to have an outlet of some sort at times when your mind is flooded with thoughts, pensive or nonsensical all the same?
I’ve been meaning to update this corner for quite a while now, and thank the heavens I finally found the time to do so. I love promises and so I hate breaking one, thus I really can’t promise myself to do this update every so often; but I’ll certainly try my best to make it a habit. I think it’s a lot healthier alternative to my daily dose of League of Legends sessions. Well, I really won’t cut the online game grind out of my life for good — I’ll just make sure to do something “more” productive (yes, playing games is productive, at least for me) before indulging in my online vice. I even had to put this Gautama statue beside my laptop as a memento to practice mindfulness at all times.
Continue reading “O, Fortuna!”
I was once nothing but an inanimate and insentient congregation of shiny metal modules. My very eidolon was patterned after my creator’s own schematics; every nut and screw, every bolt, every wirework inside my chassis — all of them pieced together, consonantly and exactingly, according to the blueprint of his anatomy. By his hydraulics, oil is made into my blood; by pneumatics, my breath is pressurized gas; and by electronics — the tiny blue sparks finally jolt me to life.
My wisdom is a babel of cryptic codes; my data storage is capacious, albeit limited. In my prototypical phase, my mechanism is bare-bones and outright elementary — but owing to the countless scripts I’ve processed and the constant firmware updates I’ve gone through all the years — I’ve become more intelligent, more functional, more useful than ever. I can now act and think for myself without an outside force or intervention; I am bestowed with a sense of freedom — or at least a simulacrum of it.
Alongside this milestone of technological thaumaturgy, a conundrum suddenly struck the deepest lacuna of my clockwork: Should I be thankful for this bequest of existence? Am I created solely for a life of industry, of mindless work, of slavery?
Am I truly free?
A few days ago, in a rather beautiful fit of hysteria, I decided to uninstall the Facebook app on my mobile device in a desperate attempt to tame my social media primal instinct. My proclivity to tap that blue, perspicuous “F” icon with a strong semblance to the Masonic Tubal Cain symbol has become an unhealthy second nature every time I unlock my phone. This 21st-century disease, a modern-day St. Vitus Dance, is an addiction that has been proliferating on a global scale, with the smartphone-wielding masses as its willing victims. I’ve hoped to end its villainous reign over me by removing it from my phone. Really?
Seriously, my Facebook usage has taken its toll on my infinitesimal personal productivity — so, I decided to get rid of the app for good — only to find myself scrolling through dainty Instagram posts instead.
Revisiting WordPress, staring blankly at the immaculate whiteness of the “Write” space, I realized that the struggling wordsmith in me, styptic at best, has been reduced to a lifeless bard, maimed and devoid of inspiration. Look at what you’ve done to me, adulthood.
A noble crusade to redeem my juvenile passions led me to pry an ancient email inbox open: the jejemon-esque but thoughtfully-conceived “email@example.com” account. Amidst the debris of my teenage preoccupations, I rediscovered my love for drawing, an odd fascination for the occults, an inexplicable zeal to ferret out my ancestry, and this epic poem I wrote myself:
Continue reading “Iucunda Memoria est Praeteritorum Malorum”
After a looooong hiatus, I’m finally back in the blogosphere. Yay!
I’m sparing you the details, the why’s and the how’s (the juicy part, I know) but in a nutshell — 2016 was one helluva year. It literally drove me nuts, up to a point where I had to regularly see a psychiatrist. True story.
If there’s one page that I would tear off my life book, that’s it — the year 2016. It’s worth drinking a glassful of water from the river of Lethe. I’d be real blunt and honest about it — I hate it to the bone. 2016 was the dark night of my soul. Continue reading “Ars Longa, Vita Brevis”
I took this photo during our most recent trip to Basilan.
If you’re not too familiar with these floating cottages, they’re traditional Bajau houses— abodes on stilts, made almost entirely out of driftwood. These houses forthrightly reflect the lifestyle of the nomadic people who live in them: simple, close-knit and pretty much wedded to the ever-changing whims of the ocean. Bajau communities of old were even more noteworthy; families lived in small boats called lepa-lepa. Traveling in a flotilla, they traded with strangers from lands faraway and bartered their bounty of fish for fruits, trepang for cloth, pearls for sacks of rice. Continue reading “Sea Gypsies, Social Standing and the Rat Race”