That Friend Called Mediocrity

She goes by a lot of names. She’s Inferiority Complex to some; others may refer to her as Low Self Esteem or the classic I-Think-I’m-Not-Good-Enough. But I’d rather just call her Mediocrity because that’s what she’ll ever be–adequately average, a little over and a bit under mediocre.

She’s going to be that constant reminder that I will never be good enough for anyone or anything, not even for my own intangible dreams. But when I think of it in an unadulterated vantage point. It’s not as bad as it appears; as lame and as pretentious as it would sound, the extra ordinary would cease to exist without the ordinary.

But I’d like to cut the pleasantries crap and call Mediocrity my enemy.

Another P.S.

I wish I hadn’t judged Kyle when he told me to watch Sakurasou no Pet na Kanojo. Save for all the unnecessary fanservice, the story is pretty relevant.

I’m a real-life Sorata. I’m a commoner amidst an academically elitist environment. I’m a “jack-ass of all trades” (credits to Ate Jes who coined the fitting term). And you know the bullshit they say about the existence of minor subjects to create well-rounded individuals? I’m well-rounded, alright. I’m a master of none. Oh, have I mentioned that I suck at Math?

Nevertheless, I feel somewhat proud that I made it this far without destroying my psyche with all the vicious whispers of moral degradation (both internal and external).


Friday the 13th Minus One

Instead of basking in the nostalgic atmosphere of the lanterns lit up on the tree behind the ampitheater, we were inside the atrium, sitting on the pseudo benches that looked like trash bins at certain angles.

It was particularly cold that night. You could say that I was too engrossed in our conversation that I didn’t mind the gentle chills brought about by the wind. But when AL said, “kung saan magtatagal” with reference to friendship and in response to why he kept his relationships in entirely separate circles in the venn diagram, I started questioning my own belief with regards to that matter that I couldn’t care less about the weather.

It was only then that I realized that nurturing such principle is a mere half measure. It fed on the assumption that love, or at least, the set of feelings it encompasses, is not bound to last. It’s pretty reckless to think of an easy way out when he’s not even inside yet.

But yeah, that’s all there is to it. No eureka of some sort, just an empty rant as usual.

P.S. Yes, this is a late post. But reading through the second Funky Bones scene in The Fault in Our Stars made me remember the night before LP’s unlucky day.



I’d have to wait in order to find out whether or not my heart has any other function than to pump oxygen-carrying blood throughout my circulatory system.

But I hate waiting.

Seeing Adrian’s somewhat default (and slightly annoyed) facial expression nudged some memories. Looking back, I regret nothing. And without any hidden agenda I say, “it’s waiting time again.”


Parang ‘Di na Tama

Tao rin naman sila.

Hindi ko na matandaan yung mga eksaktong salita. Ni hindi ko na nga maalala kung sino sa mga kaklase ko yung nagsabi nun. Basta, natatandaan kong sinabi ng prof namin na “sayang ang window space” nung may nagsabi sa aming sa third floor niya ilalagay yung Employee Support Facilities ng Back of the House ng Hotel plate namin.

Tao rin naman sila, bakit mo sila itatapon sa basement? Tao rin naman sila, bakit mo sasabihing sayang lang na paggamitan sila ng window space? Ganyang klase ng kalarakaran ba ang gusto nilang ipamana sa mga estudyante nila–ang pagpapaalipin sa kapitalismong nakasentro lamang sa perang kikitain ng isang proyekto at ang boluntaryong pagsusumite ng sarili sa di-makataong hegemonya?

Patikim nga ba ‘to ng mundong ginusto kong pasukin?

The Shawshank Redemption

I don’t think I’ll see any other finer movie than The Shawshank Redemption, bar none. It’d be hard to beat such a well orchestrated combination of theatrical elements.

For one, it’s got social relevance. Brooks epitomized the stigma of being imprisoned: how people lose themselves in such a controlled setup with little interaction with variables, how it’s basically impossible to start anew, and how it’s morally degrading to live without any sense of purpose in life. Even if it romanticized corruption and injustice through its happy ending, it also sparked hope that someday, someone with brains and balls as colossal as Dufresne’s will pave the way to the redemption of a handful of souls in this fucked up society.

And speaking of Dufresne, he’s one hell of an intellectual candy for the sapiosexuals to boot. I, personally, think of him as the retro version of Prison Break’s Michael Scofield. At first, I thought that it was him who needed the redemption. I supposed Red would have been the one to pass on his wisdom to young banker since he was more acclimatized to the prison atmosphere. In the end, Dufresne gave Red something that Brooks wasn’t privileged enough to have when his pardon was granted; a reason to live beyond his life sentence, something to look forward to outside the walls of Shawshank.

Not only that, who wouldn’t love the occasional narration of Morgan Freeman? He even encapsulated the subtle feeling I’ve been struggling to describe this past few days with his words, (and I quote) “I have no idea to this day what those two Italian ladies were singing about. The truth is, I don’t want to know. Some things are better left unsaid. I like to think they were singing about something so beautiful, it can’t be expressed in words and makes your heart ache because of it. I tell you, those voices soared higher and farther than anybody in a grey place dares to dream.”


I’ve unsuccessfully converted my infatuation into any form of indifference. In the process of stripping myself off unnecessary emotions, I wound out totally devoid, left with nothing but meager wrath. I’ve got nothing, not even a hint of fondness remaining, not even for AL. I’m not empty, though. In fact, there’s too much external activity at the moment that I find myself dazed at the mere chore of finding room to spare for anything else.

I want to go back to the time when things made sense. I want to say “some things are better left unsaid” the same way as Red’s and actually mean it. I want to restore my confidence that my faith in something or someone won’t ever be shaken no matter what I may come to know in the future.

I want to find my Zihuatanejo.

Apollonian Order and Dionysian Chaos

After a grueling one and half semester, I figured that having too much free time never did and never will work for me. In fact, I only used it to fuel my procrastination.

I actually miss my orgs. There’s a different feel about being able to contribute something in a discussion, about being heard in an exchange of opinions, and about doing something out of the spirit of volunteerism.

I think I misread myself again. I’m not really the type to hone my craft silently in one corner; I was always up and about, dealing with people, managing real time situations in a more dynamic setup. The only reason I wasn’t as active as compared with my Sophomore Year was because of the academic hindrance I thought it imposed. It turns out that I just saw things in distortion.

This is, perhaps, the best philosophical dichotomy that works for me; restraint in excess, modesty in the midst of attention, and everything with a bit of alcohol.

P.S. This is a premature publish. I’ll edit this once I have more time. :)


Gollum Appreciation Post 1

Watch all the stress fade away as you feast your eyes upon Gollum! Unfortunately, he’s not mine but Anna’s. Though, that doesn’t lessen the cuddly beast’s therapeutic effect, especially on stressful weekends like this one. So, I’m spreading the pug love and appreciation!

The photos are from Anna’s eldest brother, Ivan, who, by the way, shares an uncanny resemblance with Sir Joson. Go figure.