Wednesday, May 15, 2013

The Difference

My contract in the university will be ending a few days from now, and though my superiors seem set on having my stay there extended, I am now (gasp!) having second thoughts. You see, this deal will not be sealed unless I go back to graduate school. And this involves a lot of paper work which I will have to follow through within this month. And if I don't do this then I will be free to find my own way. My chains will be severed and I'll be back to zero. And I'm twiddling my thumbs at the moment about it and I'm slowly running out of delaying tactics. Turns out I'm not wholly set on getting my degree after all.

As a compromise, I've talked my superior into changing my teaching status into part-time next semester, assuming that I will go back to UP for my MS. I did this partly because my work is stressing me out. And partly because I just feel the need to escape from this system somehow. And that's why I've been raving out my plans of becoming a part-time barista and my training to be a DJ in Facebook. But these are not mere noises, mind. I am dead set on these things. I have submitted my resume to Starbucks and is currently practicing being a DJ (I'm starting with a relatively simple software) on my spare time. Which makes me think now why is it that when it comes to things like these, I can discipline myself but when it comes to my MS, I somehow cannot?

I've been thinking about these things earlier and though I know that starting from scratch (and in a completely different field too) will be extremely difficult, but somehow, I don't mind. In fact, I'm quite excited about this prospect of laboring and working my way up again. I don't know. When I said I was sick of this system, it turns out that I really was and I do not want anything to do with it anymore. I want to wash my hands off it.

Now of course, I acknowledge that from the perspective of the majority and of the practical, my plan is foolhardy even at its best. Why the fuck would I throw everything that I have now away when it all it takes is a few more months of toil and I just might finally clinch that required graduate degree? Why throw away this chance of stability over a seemingly whimsical and risky endeavor? What the hell is wrong with me?

You see, this reaction comes from having the same view as the majority. And as I've demonstrated many times, I don't follow such conventions. I don't want it. And I'm only forcing myself to get what the others want me to have. So in the end, I don't get out of my way to grab it. I don't make an effort. Not because I'm lazy. But because I simply don't want it.

I've said this many times before and I'm saying it again - I'm not living for careers.  I live to find meaning. For life itself. And I know it sounds vague and pretentious for the normal person but really, we can go and have a conversation about it and you will see that this is not all fluff and nonsense. I've really thought it out and this is the way I want to live.

I want to be a barista because I want to seek balance in my life. Being a teacher (and a celebrated one at that) tends to overinflate my ego (if it hasn't already) and I want to keep this swelling of my head down to manageable levels. I want to learn humility. I want manual labor. I want to know how it feels to serve. My first year of teaching people older than me had been calling me 'Sir' and had been giving me respect I didn't really feel I deserved at such a young age. And it goes on up to now. Teachers are always respected. I know that we should be but I'm talking about my personal growth. It just isn't very healthy to be unduly respected all the time.

I want to be a DJ because I want to put my creativity into good use. As of now, they're dripping out of my system in the form of my mixtapes and my blogs and my other minor side projects and these are all very well since at least, I am able to let them out but I think it's high time for me to channel these urges into something more productive. I've always had good sense when it comes to music. And I love it so much I cannot just stand still and limit myself to appreciating it. I've tried my hand on playing instruments and I realized it's too late for me to become a passable musician. So being a DJ gives me hope. Maybe here, I can use this musical talent. Coupled with my love of dancing and playing loud music and parties and pleasing the crowd, I couldn't see anything more perfect for me other than to be a DJ. It fucking fits. It just fucking fits me.

These new interests give me life. They refresh me. And goodness knows I'm drying out. I need some vitality to keep me from being stuck in a depression. I need these things. For me to appreciate life more.

But my MS degree? Whenever I think of it, it never fails to sour my mood. It's a burden. It's a requirement for me. Not a passion. And it isn't like I need this degree to prove myself. Because the way I see it, this whole system seems like an extended version of high school. I think that I've reached the point when I don't need to prove myself anymore. I don't need these degrees or titles to make me happy. I've somehow grown beyond these things and now I'm running after the things which for me are more important.

It's just too bad that I have to give up teaching for a while. But it isn't like I'm closing my door on it forever. I just need to breathe. This year, I want to do things for myself. I have served eight fucking years and I deserve a break. I know that after a period of not teaching, I can really evaluate whether I'm dead set on being an educator. I think I caught it too much too early. I need a pause. I need to rethink. I need this break from my routine.

And I also need this break for me to clear my head so I can write better. I still haven't given up on this dream also. I need to widen my experience so I can write about more things. I want to do odd jobs so I can further develop my character.

I can already imagine how it would be if I get lucky in this new direction. I'll be going home, tired from my shift. I'll face my laptop to write a bit, letting my mind wander inside a rented room in a dingy city. On some nights, I might get a DJing gig and I'll be off to this bar. And I'll go home, a little tipsy and really happy. This is how I imagine my life to be. Not the conventionally boring one. I want a dynamic life. An artist's life. Not a scientist's life. Oh how I want that so bad.

That kind of life? That's home for me. That's what life is for me.

The Road Not Taken


Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.



Sunday, May 12, 2013

In the Dark Room

The last I watched a movie I was with someone I barely know. It was around a month ago, when I was in Dumaguete, on the first of two dates I've managed to mangle out of the city. The guy was okay, other than the silly hat he was wearing. But it was a failed date because there was simply nothing interesting happening between us. I would have responded if he held my hand when we were watching the movie. Or maybe if he placed his hand on my leg. He wasn't exactly a looker but he had a nice chest and the shirt he was wearing gave a nice view of it. Nice legs on him too. At the moment, I'm trying to recall his name. But I can't. Starts with a J? Or an A?

I've had lots of movie dates ever since I graduated from college and entered myself into the market. It's a safe thing to do when you're with a new guy. To pass the time if the date's not doing well. To fondle each other if the date's doing extremely well. And it's funny how some guys act differently when the lights go out. I remember my first date with this guy who works in the Palace. He looked so neat with his white long sleeves and crisp black pants. But he tried to slip his hand up my pants only a few minutes into the movie and almost forced me to kiss him then and there. He was really cute and I would have loved to ply my tongue on his but there were just too many people around. In the end we did kiss although I couldn't get comfy because you know, there are strangers two feet away from us. In all directions. We never dated again. But not because of that.

And there's this other guy who gave me a hand job while I struggled to shield my thing from prying eyes with my bag on my lap. It was good that the movie we were watching was an action movie, so any gasps and moans which might have escaped my lips can be interpreted as my surprised reactions on the film. It was still very risky though and as much as I would have wanted to spread my legs, fear and decency overcame me. Any minute I imagined security guards descending on us, flashlights quickly swerving on my exposed dick for everyone to see before it was unceremoniously kicked out of the doors with the rest of me. Which reminds me, is that a criminal offense? Will being caught in that appear in my records or something? I suppose I'm bound to find that out for myself anyway. Well, this happened every single time we had a movie date (we lasted weeks.) And it's funny because when we're alone in the room he isn't as horny. At least I was always hornier than he was.

And then there's this other guy who was a sex fiend and did me on the bus and other unlikely places and yet when we were in the movies he barely even looked at me. I kept running my hand on his arm and the most he would do was give my leg a squeeze. This time I wanted something. The movies are much more private than a bus zooming along Commonwealth. But nope, no can do for him.

But my dates with my boyfriends were always on the more serious and sweeter side of things. I don't know why, but somehow, I get this feeling a date's going to be great if the guy does not do anything fishy with me on the movies. My first boyfriend, I used to reach out for his hand in the movies when we were still new as a couple. And then after months, he began to reach for my hand too. And then our relationship became cold and we didn't hold hands anymore. Then we broke up and got back together again. And we came back to holding hands in the movies. When he's feeling cuddly he'd come rest his head on my shoulder sometimes. And I'd try not to move too much lest my sharp shoulder bones give him an injury.

My second boyfriend loved holding hands too. And we'll hold hands in the movie until they were decidedly warm and sweaty. And on choice parts, the tearjerkers mostly, we'd give each other's hands an extra squeeze until we're holding hands with increasing tightness as the movie ends. I'd find myself walking out of the cinema, working my hand and trying to get blood flowing back to it again. Hands severed due to fear of prying eyes around us.

My third boyfriend had no fear of prying eyes. Absolutely none. He'd kiss me in the lips in the middle of the mall. In its exact center, mind. And he'd hold my hand whenever and wherever he felt like it. We didn't last long but in the movies, I remember that at times he paid more attention to me than to what we're watching. He'd ask me if I'm cold. He'd check if I'm comfy. And when there's a hot guy on screen he'd get jealous and try to cover my eyes. Seriously. But that's him. That's his own brand of sweetness. No other guy paid as much attention to me as he did.

And of course, there's my dear Little Boy. We've watched quite a lot of movies when we were dating. To the point that we were counting the coin we have left between us just so we can watch this film on that night. Once, the attendants even asked us to leave less than 30 minutes into the animated film we were watching because apparently, the mall was on fire. Yeah. We had the tickets refunded the next week anyway and we watched the same movie and had a great time and I even cried.

I liked him a lot and of course I tried holding his hand in the movies but he's really tough and he wouldn't give in. Not in the first movie. Not in the second. Not in the third. I'd ask if I can hold his hand and he'd always raise his eyebrow as if that was out of the question. Then one time we were in the movies, with my hand hanging about, I felt his hand touch mine. Not hold, really. No fingers entwined. But it was a touch. An unmistakeable one. And I rubbed my fingers on his and he didn't move them away. I looked at him, a bit puzzled, but he was engrossed in the movie and I just smiled. Oh how I smiled. But he's gone now too. Like the rest of them.

And still there were times when I'd watch movies alone. Just me and my faithful Jansport backpack on my lap but not hiding anything. People around me but no prying eyes on me because there's nothing unusual to see. My hands hanging out on both arms of my seat, safe from being touched because the seats beside me are empty. No heads on my shoulder. No sweaty palms. No hands covering my eyes. Just me watching the movie, hoping against hope it will make me feel something again. Until the next guy comes around.









Sunday, May 5, 2013

Forever Young

I find it funny that I'm writing this in the wake of my attempt to sequester some poison from the laboratory. It was right there in my hands, a kilo of it, crystalline and white, and all I had to do was scoop less than a handful, stow it away in a vial in my pocket, and move away while no staff was looking. But in that moment, I was paralyzed. I was half-laughing with confusion, to be honest, holding that bottle with slightly trembling hands. I knew then that I would be sealing my fate if I went on with my plan. And I realized there in the laboratory storage room, under those tired-looking fluorescent lamps, that distinct lab odor of various chemicals and with only the whirring of the exhaust fans to break the silence, that I was not ready. That no matter how much I have contemplated of killing myself, I still haven't thought it out thoroughly enough. And this makes me ashamed of myself somewhat.

I learned that it wasn't as easy as I thought it would be. Hours before that, I realized that to commit suicide, you must turn off both your brain and your heart. You must not think. You must not feel. You must be a cold automaton to be successful. It must be a decision made in cold blood. And perhaps at that moment, I wasn't feeling numb enough. So I failed. Though I did note the exact shelf where that bottle of KCN lies for future reference.

I do not really understand why I get these urges. Sometimes at night, "I want to die" will suddenly play on repeatedly in my head. And it is all that I can do to keep myself on my bed, tossing and turning, knowing that the moment I got up and really did something about it, it might be my end. And it doesn't matter whether I had been particularly sad or happy that day. I could have had the worst day possible yet I wouldn't feel suicidal. There are triggers to it, that's true, but it isn't as obvious as "having problems" or "feeling sad". I've come to the conclusion that most likely, it is something in my genes which makes me have thoughts like these. In fact, I'm getting this feeling now that I've lived past my supposed death date. It's crazy I know, and I'm doing what I can, but I'm not sure whether trying to stop these urges will really help at all. It might be making it worse, for all I know.

The night before last I was making the artwork for this album. And I was browsing through my pictures, looking for suitable ones to be representative of what had gone on for the past four years and what I got from looking back at those events was amazement. From where I am now, I couldn't believe what I had accomplished just a couple of years ago. Look at those semender parties, for instance. I couldn't believe that I've really made them happen. Who I am now seemed but a faded relic of the storm I used to be. I made waves. I was a force. But now I've lost them all and I'm down in the dumps more often than not.

This album chronicles the best and the worst years of my life. And although it is mightily embarrassing to make a case study of oneself and promote it, I'm pushing through with this because like what I've said in a previous post, it is a life all the same. I might have been wishing for my own death for years now, but while I'm alive I'm really alive. And you can almost feel the passion oozing out of these songs. Think Tom Riddle's Diary. Really, these songs are my essence. It's Sir Bry 101.

I'm sharing this album for several reasons and to reiterate one of those, it is in the hope that you might learn something from what happened to me. We go crazy with books and movies, especially those that touch us so why don't we learn from the lives of our own real friends right? I can't make a book yet, much less a movie, but mixtapes are within my current capabilities so this is what I do. The songs might not be mine, but the way I compile them makes a work which is bigger than the sum of its parts.

This is not an attempt to glorify myself even if it does seem that way for those people who don't know me well. I keep putting my images on my albums simply because I do not want to be forgotten. If you doubt me, then let's have a chat about it. I can't explain further here. The universe knows I have had enough of unwanted attention.

I'm going to claim that "Forever Young", personal bias included, is my best album. And it should be, given that it's a compilation of the best songs I've found for the last four years. My first 4-year greatest hits album "Dusk at Red Island" (released last May 2009) focused more on love and my tumultuous relationships. And it's interesting that here in "Forever Young", my paradigm has shifted to more meaningful things. How I've established my identity. How I've started to make a change. Much deeper musings on love, life, and death. Others may claim that their best achievement for the past years had been graduating from grad school, getting this house or car, or finding the love of their lives. But for me, this album is all I have to show. It is the wisdom gained. The experience. The lovers. The friends. All here in this 80-minute album.

May you have an enjoyable ride through time with me while listening to the music here. This is my life I'm sharing here with you, and from a fellow human being, you couldn't ask for more.


Love,
Bry

Here is the link:
Download "Forever Young" HERE

I've fixed the link above. It now links to Hotfile. :)