Shot at the History Books

Once upon a time, when I was a kid, young, optimistic, and earnest, I decided that I would leave a dent in the world. Maybe it's because of all those thick books I poured over during those long, hot summers when nothing really happened.

I was thinking what living was all about, bored out of my mind as I was. And I said to my self, I should make a splash. We don't live that long. Whatever worth we have can only be significant if it outlasts us. I need to enter the history books, somehow, if I were to live a fulfilling life. I need to be read about, like all those people I discovered in my own private library.

According to this standard, I resolved to do two things: either bag the Nobel Prize, or do something catastrophic. In my room, I skipped among dreams of revolutionizing the gaming industry, razing densely-populated buildings, finding the solution to world hunger, blowing a hole in the earth's crust, theorizing the practical benefits of black-holes, poisoning a chocolate plant, and many others. In those days, plenty of radical, risque, and bat-shit crazy stuff came to me--real crazy stuff, grade-A tabloid material.

And whatever they were, I don't know if I'm still on track right now, or for which kind of notoriety I am heading.

I remembered all this when, as of late, people I know have been alternating between pursuing their passions and getting run-down by life in general. Compared to all the things they had to go through, it seems I haven't been doing that much living, and has made me re-evaluate what I want in life.

I still want to be awesome, like, across-all-time kind of awesome. Even if I don't know yet how I'll get there, I just have to keep at it, keep laboring earnestly for the things I am devoted to, like writing, reading, wanderlusting, and friends--everything that comes with the joie de vivre package.

Anyway, I think I'll be happy enough if people remember me as someone who would build bookshelves for the books he loved, wrote stories about the people he loved, and made a splendid history of the time he spent learning to live and learning to love.

pinhole

The good doctor labored endlessly on the dread machine. This rigid framework wrought of the world's lightest alloy and a white sail spun from spider-silk would serve as my prison for the next few years. He was far too old for this enterprise, too frail to pursue his dreams. So in his stead, I will climb into that blasted contraption myself.

They despised the machine as well, the Conclave, when he had first purported to them that the sky was a dome. There were no stars, no clouds, no moon, and no sun, he had proposed to the assembly. With worn hands, he gesticulated towards the crumbling roof, the soiled walls. It was all a glittery facade, a beautiful enclosure, much like the room they stood in.

The eldest member, donning the traditional white smock of their order, rose and remonstrated that they have built great ships, countless probes, and sent them above. All these have returned to corroborate this one truth: above our heads awaits eternity.

There was a fire in the doctor then, a passion he branded all his work. And with that same passion he had declared he would build a craft within 6 moon-cycles that would vindicate him. It has been 5 cycles and a gibbous since that day.

I was a peasant in the nearby village. And when I heard of the doctor's story--it spread like a coughing fit--I sought him out and found him at the old lighthouse on land's end. Until now, a fraction of me believes that only when he opened the door did he finally decide to make it a manned mission.

"The conclave has sent countless circuits and much gadgetry into the heavens, yet their truth is intrinsically separated by degrees. Through your eyes, I hope to prove what is empirical, as we have always done since long ago to discover what has ever been."

Tomorrow I will climb into the dread machine, be one with the lightest alloy and join with the spider-silk. I had known little of this world. But, I know enough to contemplate escaping it. Now, was egress worth placing faith in fiery old men, fused metals, and frail weaving?

If the old man's words were true, then there really is no escape. His midnight equations and craven whisperings spoke of the physical limit to dreaming, an inviolable range to all hope, and an edge to all things.

But I believe that there shall always be more. I am young. Fate has brought me here and I believe she would not lead me down a path so limited. There must be an opportunity to exceed somewhere waiting to be sought; a door for the faithful; an opening in the wall; a crack through which peeks destiny.

My name is Icarus, and tomorrow I will journey into the light.

photo credit: alemonio

Writ of What Clocks Measure

Some say there is no such thing as time. Time, the distance between moments, is a human construct. It is all we remember, all we expect, and the brief opportunity to smuggle the latter into the former.

This blog is a journal of all those attempts, as well as a physical record of all the joy, anger, mirth, and depression that went into each success and failure, as well as the simple discovery of which was which.

8 years of that journey are incompletely chronicled here. History, I think, is the human attempt to structure and encapsulate time. In recording, there is a hope to find a reason to all things. And I've gotten used to judging my life by its progress, like a movie plot.

So far, it's been a dreary screening--my writing as of late is telling--and it strikes me as wasteful. Shit happens, everyday; and miracles, too, just as plenty. For something so arbitrary, I think it's a mistake to attach value to life as a whole.

I realize that the good and the bad are separate, distinct, and equally meaningful. They are meaningful because we learn through them. Nostalgia is probably all the mixed emotions we feel when we uncover a little of our truth as we sift through the past.

So let's not spend effort on defining who we are now, but instead find pride in who we've been, and nourish anticipation for who we'll become. And what that shall entail will always be a personal decision. Somehow, life is a constant attempt at defining who we are.

So to all things I hope for and fear for, to all I cherish and regret, let this be my binding vow to bear witness to life, and to chronicle through imperfect words my imperfect perception of all its meaning, one second at a time.

Oh, and happy 2000 main-page hits! Because where there is drama, there will shortly follow an audience.

Copywriters! Look Now and Forever be Shamed!

With all the rage for discounts afforded by such upstarts as Ensogo, Pakyaw, etc., we forget that one of the first enterprises into en-masse purchasing was Groupon. So it took me by complete surprise that for a more senior company, they'd have such sordid write-ups.

So, to illustrate, let's play a short game: GUESS THAT PROMO!

1. Often used for concealing withered love letters or slices of deli meat, books also make for handy spots to place noteworthy photos while ensuring minimal mold growth. Preserve life’s captured moments in a portable and rodent-repelling format with today’s Groupon
2. Some things in life were just made for each other: Jack and Jill, gin and tonic, dentists and stress, fun and exercise. Enjoy a new set of yin and yangs with today’s Groupon
3. The pen may be mightier than the sword, but when it comes to ending wars and winning ladies’ hearts, the beer mug has proven to be mightier. Pour a glass of sweet liquid courage with today’s Groupon
4. Appreciating the grandeur of the ancient times means discovering that Jose Rizal was your mother’s sister’s neighbor’s father’s cousin-in-law, that the wagging of a tyrannosaurus’ tail triggered hurricanes, and that you were a cotton bud in your past life. Tread on to an asylum of rich history and unravel the great has-been with today’s Groupon
5. Smile and frown lines occur naturally through life’s ups and downs, while crow’s feet are caused by avian Broadway shows performed on facial stages during sleep. Pull the curtain on wrinkles with today’s Groupon
6. Finding a box of goodies on your doorstep is preferable to finding cell phone bills and pieces of trash. Clog your front door with chocolate treats to prevent bills from arriving with today's Groupon
7. Though musicians often see it as a crude xylophone twig and little trick or treaters regard it as a great way to spruce up an innovative Halloween costume, whether as bunny ears or lengthy fangs, the more practical person would simply see two wooden pencil-like objects as a pair of chopsticks. Utilize the tool to its fullest with today’s Groupon
8. In the medieval ages, citizens who did not feel well would resort to visiting castle jesters and fools to receive what they thought were the best medicine which weren’t effective at all. Celebrate the fancy medical thingamajigs of the future with today’s Groupon
9. Adding water results in less floury biscuits, larger foam dinosaurs, and a potential mermaid swimming party. Douse yourself in smooth-moving good times with today's Groupon
10. In the 17th century, weary men were always found meddling with the cuckoo clock, attempting to make its hands turn counterclockwise and drab women constantly curled up in aluminum bins, thinking those were time machines. Turn back the hands of time sans old-age, crass measures with today’s Groupon

And the answers!!!

1. Photobook
2. Dance course
3. Sports Bar voucher
4. Ilocos Tour
5. Botox
6. Box of truffles
7. Donburi rice bowl
8. Physical Exam
9. Stay at Santiago Bay Garden Resort
10. Anti-aging solution

So did you get them right? No? Are you wondering if the writers were high? If yes, that makes you and me both. I mean seriously, mentioning garbage for a truffle advert. Dude.

Then again, there are only so many ways you can describe food and derma-treatments--even less if it has to sound interesting!