the need for clichés
updates to the blog have been spotty since the onslaught of the holidays. yes, i just described the arrival of christmas like the coming of a war, because it has been intense, particularly for me, juggling year-end deadlines at work and attending to one get-together after another. i am not complaining for either, actually. it affirms at least the importance of my role at the office and i get to see friends and familiar faces who constantly provide me with a firm but gentle reminder about how great it is to be alive.
i don't know how it started. i'm not even going to say that i was briefly depressed because i don't think there was anything clinical about how i felt. but i became increasingly fatalistic recently and there were mild bouts of surrender, and pessimism followed me like a shadow on a cloudless afternoon that lasted the whole day. i had difficulty sleeping mostly because i feared i would not wake. i felt i was sick from something i haven't quite detected, and that everything -- all these temporary, selfish and materialistic pursuits -- was pointless, i might as well just give it up.
it happened, at least if i were to provide some pegs in a timeline, shortly after i saw "2012" and intensified when my left lower mandible inflamed from an abscess for a second time. i began entertaining thoughts about death and the ignominy of collective forgetting, asking myself if i've made enough of an impact for anyone to remember me beyond 40 days after i've died. and it's particularly striking for me because i normally avoid the subject, almost as if i were immortal. and then the stream of my consciousness explored grim end-of-world scenarios much unlike the images of global destruction i saw in "2012", but resulting in comparable death and devastation. i thought about earthquakes -- the big one -- which i've somehow been anticipating following all these tremors in the ring of fire. and now mayon is putting up a brilliant show. i wouldn't mind watching it either. i should drop by the ayala triangle before wednesday.
that lasted a few days only, maybe as many as four, but i can't completely say that i've flushed it out of my system. i can't even say it's benign: it's still there, i would suppose, waiting for the right time to attack. but i'm glad that the slew of parties has pumped me with renewed energy, and i'm basking in the celebratory spirit of my friends: they who cherish life and do not wallow in the despair of its little inconveniences. i need to be happy with what i have and what's been given me, and still feel blessed and fortunate while reaching for my dreams: to live each day like it's my last but take comfort in the fantasy, or even the possibility, that it could be forever.
i've never thought that mouthing a series of clichés could this be comforting. so i'm ending this entry here. i need to go out tonight to share my blessings. i'm feeling generous.
i don't know how it started. i'm not even going to say that i was briefly depressed because i don't think there was anything clinical about how i felt. but i became increasingly fatalistic recently and there were mild bouts of surrender, and pessimism followed me like a shadow on a cloudless afternoon that lasted the whole day. i had difficulty sleeping mostly because i feared i would not wake. i felt i was sick from something i haven't quite detected, and that everything -- all these temporary, selfish and materialistic pursuits -- was pointless, i might as well just give it up.
it happened, at least if i were to provide some pegs in a timeline, shortly after i saw "2012" and intensified when my left lower mandible inflamed from an abscess for a second time. i began entertaining thoughts about death and the ignominy of collective forgetting, asking myself if i've made enough of an impact for anyone to remember me beyond 40 days after i've died. and it's particularly striking for me because i normally avoid the subject, almost as if i were immortal. and then the stream of my consciousness explored grim end-of-world scenarios much unlike the images of global destruction i saw in "2012", but resulting in comparable death and devastation. i thought about earthquakes -- the big one -- which i've somehow been anticipating following all these tremors in the ring of fire. and now mayon is putting up a brilliant show. i wouldn't mind watching it either. i should drop by the ayala triangle before wednesday.
that lasted a few days only, maybe as many as four, but i can't completely say that i've flushed it out of my system. i can't even say it's benign: it's still there, i would suppose, waiting for the right time to attack. but i'm glad that the slew of parties has pumped me with renewed energy, and i'm basking in the celebratory spirit of my friends: they who cherish life and do not wallow in the despair of its little inconveniences. i need to be happy with what i have and what's been given me, and still feel blessed and fortunate while reaching for my dreams: to live each day like it's my last but take comfort in the fantasy, or even the possibility, that it could be forever.
i've never thought that mouthing a series of clichés could this be comforting. so i'm ending this entry here. i need to go out tonight to share my blessings. i'm feeling generous.