Desiderata

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    33 years this 2015 and, if my yearmates are to be the gauge, I'm a failure. Yet, if not for my father (both whip and salve in this case), I would not have these words:

"If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself."

    I find it ironic and the amusement just makes the irony all the more telling because the words state explicitly that one should not compare one's self and my father touts these regularly yet he is first in comparing me and mine to all and sundry.

    [shrugs]

    Still, nevertheless.
 
    I can see where I'm going and while it could have been better, I can now see some of the mistakes that I'm making before it gets bigger. I guess that's the benefit of experience, such as it is. Granted that there's a lot more I could've done, I find that I can shrug all those whiplashes off without a sweat these days. Maybe the distance helps.

    Being INTJ/INTP/ISTJ gives me a lot of introspective muscle to pull, for which I'm grateful.
 
    I am grateful that I am where I am. It lets me be and while there are still wants, I have the means to obtain those wants with a little bit of exertion.
 
    Grateful introspection.

Tears held back as crying will just make me sick

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   Back in 1999, I graduated from Canossa School with the 7th highest grades of the batch. Sure, I wasn't the salutatorian or the valedictorian. But I walked up the stage so many times that they had me stay up to receive awards twice in a row.

   I walked down and was greeted with congratulations and mild expressions of envy, as my batch-mates saw a glimpse of the person that I was.

   I walked to my parents. And here's what they said:

   "You could have done better."

   Better? By whose standards? Yours? You can't even measure up to those standards yet you punish me for not meeting that ever-rising and unattainable peak?

   Better? By what measure? I never did anything that passed your standards no matter what I did. It's always lacking. It didn't matter what it was, what I did was -ALWAYS- lacking.

   Better? By the same perspective that greeted the birth of more siblings as an increase in expenses instead of looking at the impending births as what they were? The same perspective that made me want to expunge my existence to alleviate the added cost of living? The same perspective that makes me reappraise every thought to prevent another suicidal plunge into self-destructive behavior?

   And my blood family wonders why I avoid their company. The same company that always finds me lacking. The same company that condemns me with standards that I can never satisfy. The same company that denies I have the right to even exist with their appraisal that it's their thoughts of me that matter while thoroughly disavowing mine.

   It was never enough. It is never enough. It will never be enough.

   Why won't you leave me alone when all you do to me is bludgeon me with words that put me down?

Letting the flower lie

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And with this, the end is set; what we had you'll soon forget.

I serve as I had before; as one that's yours, nevermore.

As we stand, so it ends; not as foes, nor as friends.

 As of the moment, the silence I'm getting underscores the assessment that I really was just used by Rose.

 It was already a blow to me that she just put the phone down while I was venting. What? She was the only one who had the right to vent on the other party in a relationship? That woke me up from my stupor of stupidity and lack of spine.

 So I sent that poem the moment I woke.

 And Rose's lack of reaction to it screams that losing a tool like me is like losing a pencil when you own a well-stocked school-supplies shop.

 Yes, recovering from these blows to my fragile self-esteem will take a lot of work. It's my fault that I let things get out of hand with Rose, so there's no point in beating myself up about it. I just have to keep at re-building what was broken.

Backtrack

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 During my elementary (grade school), I had a female best friend that I'll hide behind the name "Breezy". She led me and her other friends to lots of fun adventures [smirks in amusement], which included a fair amount of trouble (that thankfully weren't made known to our parents).

 Breezy smiled a lot and she shared a lot of my hobbies such as reading and watching cartoon TV shows as we approached our teens. She gave me a book when we graduated on the 6th grade since we were going to different High Schools. Sir Walter Scott's Ivanhoe wasn't a first in the genré since I was given an abbreviated portion of part of Le Morte d'Arthur when I reached the 3rd grade. However, Ivanhoe opened a lot of doors as it had a lot of "thee" and "thou" while introducing new concepts that I was only able to appreciate years after.

 Breezy and I kept in touch during the first two years of high school. I'd ride my bike to her house, we'd exchange stories and be ourselves. She gave me another book, Robert McKinney's Homecoming (4th in the novel adaptation of the Macross saga). Of course, since she attended a Science High School, the academic pressures prevented further interaction until we met again while we prepared for the College Entrance Exams.

 I was happy to see a familiar and friendly face in those preparatory classes. We made a mutual friend (who sadly didn't make it into the University of the Philippines like we did), re-affirmed bonds and learned. [tilts head to the right] Well, I learned more than she did since most of the topics covered in the classes have already been discussed during her classroom hours.

 Upon getting admitted to the University of the Phillipines-Manila (hers was direct while mine was more circuitous), we managed to keep in touch. Sure, her course was taxing as it was the accelerated Medical Course (designed to turn you into a doctor within seven years, provided you don't go mad or depressed along the way) but she managed. I, however, had to leave the University as my skills weren't up to the task.

 A year passed in the school that I transferred to. I was walking home with my first girlfriend when I met her on Padre Faura. I introduced my girl to her then I was surprised that she rebuffed me, saying that it's all fine and dandy but I forgot that the day was also her birthday.

 At least a decade has passed since that event. True, the sting has passed. I still am confused that she was annoyed that I didn't remember her birthday when she didn't bother to greet me on any of mine before that occasion. I mean, you forgot mine so shouldn't it be fine that I forgot yours when both of us meant no malice [tilts head to the right]?

 Anyhow, ever since the social networking websites have taken root (which would be after that incident), I've taken to hiding my birthday. When Friendster was in vogue, I would move my birthday a month behind whenever it approached. Now that Facebook is the rage, it took some time but I eventually found a way to hide my birthday.

 Just recently, only my blood family and some of my adopted sisters were able to greet me. It was satisfying [smiles like a well-fed cat].

 So, yeah, if Breezy crosses my path again, what would I do? On the spot (while I'm writing this), I've decided to greet her with a genuine heartfelt smile. She was my best friend then. Should she want to leave things in the ditch, my hands would be clean.

Gratitude

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 "Life goes on" is quoted, more often than not, to state the obvious about organic and inorganic systems.

 Yes, a lot happens to the involved, lazy, self-contained and what-have-you. A person, if possessed of certain knowledge, could argue that Time is merely an illusion imposed upon Life to give a sense of progress. However, no one can deny that if the sun sets, it will also rise. [tilts head to the right in thought] That is, if the sun doesn't nova during the night then the sun will rise. Anyway, I digress.

 I've been living by myself for at least 8 months, the first month spent as a poor vagabond imposing upon close friends. Ever since, a healthy diet hasn't been possible. Yes, imprisonment (most prisons anyway) provides reasonably healthy rations minus freedom of choice. Up til now, I don't have a steady supply of greens; no veggies (I prefer bitter gourd. That's another story), no root crops classified as vegetables, nada. I made do with fruit shakes (actual fruit shredded and mixed with milk and sugar) and coconut juice. Add the Vit B complex and Vit C supplements and I considered myself reasonably fortified against disease.

 So, living alone has its benefits; I have freedom of movement constrained only by time and money. I can buy the knick-knacks that I want if I have the money for it. I can do as I please, within the dictates of logic, even bash the mind-wiped horde of Stephanie Meyer groupies [smiles]. The fact that my little sister has started bashing the book and its elements (she called Bella a vacillating lusty tarty strumpet) after approximately 18 months of excitedly relating the characters' stories makes me proudly smile. After all, I was the one who got her hooked on Terry Goodkind's Sword of Truth series and she's still hooked [rubs right hand's knuckles on shirt in pride].

 With all those benefits, I don't have greens. Why, you ask, do I mention the greens? Well, a few days ago, I touched base with a lady friend. We went: How's this, how's that and did all the stuff that INTJs are notoriously weak at. We somehow segued to my diet. She asked if I had cooking implements, I said I've none. She asked because she wanted to recommend stir-fried chinese cabbage seasoned with garlic; a recommendation likely because it's currently her veggie dish of choice. I told her that I've had no veggies for the last 8 months and subsisted on the fruit shakes and coconut juice. As she had to sleep, we bid adieu.

 Life goes on because even if we've traveled our own paths, experienced the subtleties that make our lives uniquely ours, everything else around us continues in its path. That she or I experienced events that caused our personal growth to stop didn't mean that our surroundings were frozen at those events. Organic and inorganic systems experienced growth and entropy as per their nature while time stopped, stops and will stop for each human as applicable.

 Tugging the strings together; bonds, true bonds that separate friends from acquaintances, thrive as life goes on. Yes, such bonds can be seen in different ways, such as the mundane query on nutrition. Those bonds survive upheavals, changes and the circadian cycle. Some require constant attention, some can be tended with an infrequent touch. This entry of mine celebrates the beauty of that experience. That I was lucky to have had such makes me grateful [smiles].