Saturday, February 14, 2015


Two thousand nine hundred ninety five kilometers is a long way away. Definitely not the farthest corner of the world, but not such an easily reached one, either. Six weeks past (and another six weeks coming) is a lot of time to be apart for two thousand nine hundred ninety five kilometers.

In physics, distance over time makes for speed, but that's just a magnitude, and I'd hate to think of us as going nowhere fast (or slowly). When it comes to me and you, it's really more of a matter of velocity.

See, I never thought I could deal well with displacement. I am the first half of Newton's First Law of Motion personified:
A body at rest will remain at rest unless acted on by an external force.
And you, my darling, are an unstoppable force. You're never afraid to shake things up, to nudge us into new directions. You are the mover and shaker of my world. Inert as I am, I tried to resist by preferring that we both just stay here, two pairs of feet planted firmly on familiar soil. But this time apart has made me realize that those prideful statements about breaking things off are essentially balderdash (thank God for trial runs).

To be honest, I'm still not enthusiastic over the time and distance thing, and I'm hoping to finally have you with an average velocity of zero, back home with me. But if you need to be displaced, then I will be, too. Between the two of us, the math shouldn't be as hard as it sometimes looks. If it came down to a choice between being in motion and losing my guiding force, then I would be off at the speed of light in whatever direction you needed me to be.

(Full disclosure: You know I'm horrible at Physics, so every science-y thing here should be taken with a grain of salt and a ton of artistic license.)

Saturday, November 29, 2014

Certificate of Pre-Mortem

Dear Future Self,

In the light of [life catastrophe (e.g., failure to realize dreams, loss of love, debilitating health concerns)], I would like to assure you that this incident has been duly grieved for in advance since [pre-mortem start date].

Over the course of the last [number of] years, any and all contributing factors, appropriate emotions, and feasible courses of action have been accounted for and analyzed to ensure your convenience at this difficult time. The full report is on file in your head, for your perusal during the subsequent sleepless nights.

Your feedback would be much appreciated. Let me know if I missed any pertinent details

...and we'll figure it out, I guess.

You can't say I didn't try. Or that I didn't tell you so.

An Apprehensive But Slightly More Hopeful Version of You

Thursday, October 30, 2014

The Things That Keep You Up

Pictures of Success
Rilo Kiley

Two years and three months is a lot of time to get lost. I took my time. It was great at first--learning new things; meeting new people; settling in to a new stage of my life. But slowly, I was making a habit of shedding the "silly" things in favor of filling my life past the brim with the "serious adult stuff" (you know, the stuff that they say really matters).

Blogs that serve as online journals? Quit that--my writing's too sappy anyway. Better just stick to fine-tuning my emails for that perfect tone. That photo blog? Put a stopper on that, too--I wasn't improving much; more of a hit or miss, really. The only jpegs I should scrutinize are those banners that need to launch tonight.

In a life where 85% of my hours are spent at home or at work, where do I find the time to look at something through a lens and give more than half a second's thought to it? In countless months where I end the day so drained that meeting up with friends feels Herculean, from where do I draw the energy to synthesize my thoughts or feelings beyond Facebook's simplistic, emoji-laden descriptions? Feeling angry. Feeling exhausted. Feeling burnt out. Feeling existentially insignificant.

Today I left 2 hours earlier than (my daily) average to go on a dinner double date, which we extended by waxing nostalgic about our teenage days over coffee. A friend tagged me for a photo challenge, which led to a revisit of my dusty photo blog, which then reminded me of this corner of the internet where I used to spend sleepless hours trying to squeeze substance out of the best and the worst of my moods and musings.

All this time I prided myself on rarely staying up at night to finish work. On some occasions I'd clock in for 10- to 12-hour workdays, but later, at home, the work mostly stops, and I mostly spend my precious remaining hours talking to my family and my girlfriend. Then I sleep. Then I wake up the next day. Rinse, repeat.

But now, I'm thinking part of this aimlessness comes from giving up on the things that keep me up, and the things that used to make me take a moment to observe and admire my environment. They stopped being a part of my life--either through work, or through hobbies. I always thought that I was square enough to be able to lead the generic drone life, but what do you know? Guess I have a much bigger need to be actively creating, rather than just consuming through books, shows, movies, and music. Maybe it doesn't even have to be creative work--just something I feel very strongly for.

As with anyone who's ever been lost, I've been trying to move forward, but maybe part of why I couldn't was because I'd forgotten my compass: the feeling of being so immersed in something that it keeps you up without you even trying*.

*Might not apply to insomniacs

Monday, July 29, 2013


The last seven months have been wildly busy, but that's not my only excuse for being absent from this blog in a while. Truly, I have so little energy left to write anything coherent on most days, but whatever could be mustered is now being split.

I've been cheating on this blog with another one. Not much, really. It's just happened three times so far. My main reason for keeping two separate writing blogs, is that the other one focuses more on...uhh, spiritual stuff, I guess. Not that this blog, in all its angst-filled glory, hasn't revealed too much about me already--I just find that I'm a lot cheesier in that aspect.

It's also a kind of experiment. On one hand blog, there's this angsty kid who fuels the frequently emo and definitely-less-than-holy posts. On the other is the more hopeful, kinder person who drops by my consciousness from time to time. I might've also failed to mention that my other blog is mainly about trying to reconcile my faith with the fact that I'm a rainbow-loving homo. Now, how to manage all that without developing a dissociative identity disorder?

Yeah, this is one of those trying-to-find-myself, what-am-I-doing-with-my-life projects. This could probably count as a symptom of early onset quarter life crisis, but these things happen far too often to alarm me at this point.

Life is a continuous cycle of self-improvement. I just wish I didn't have to be so emo about it.

If you want, you can check on me at The Closet Christian. Don't tell me you haven't been warned, though.

Monday, December 31, 2012

The Future Is Not Meant To Be Feared

Now that I think of it, I spent a great deal of 2012 being afraid. I started the year with anxiety over the possibility of not graduating on time. Then I graduated and spent the next three months worried about what kind of job I would have--and if I would have any, for that matter. But divine providence led me to a good job, which opened a whole new box of worries--mainly about whether I could do well and face up to each responsibility. This past week, I've been thinking about the future again, in terms of some personal matters. That didn't turn out so well, either.

As much as I hate to admit, I'm apparently more cowardly than I supposed. The habitual worrying, anxiety, and cynicism acquired over the years have all eventually concretized into a fearful, negative view of the future, which I often adopt under the guise of being a realist.

In hindsight, though, all those situations I spent so much time worrying about turned out to be the best experiences of the year. I gained so much knowledge and insight, met the most inspiring people, and even got to know myself a lot better. For those, I am immensely grateful; and this gratitude has helped me gain a new perspective.

Part of that perspective also serves as my mantra for the coming year: the future is not meant to be feared.

I know that the coming days and years will bring new challenges, surprises, and changes, and I'll probably still get nervous and excited about it. But I resolve to let faith and optimism reign in the place of anxious, cynical fear.

Hope is a wonderful thing, and aside from having more of it myself, I also wish I could inspire the same in other people. (Hey, I think I've just found my resolution.)

Cheers to the new year and the great things it will bring!


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