Holiday Cram part 2

I am so busted. A few days before the holidays, and I still haven’t got my presents ready. Work has been tight, with the year-end reports to finish and holiday parties to attend.I still get a little things to parcel up sooner than I head-off my journey. But time is small. I have deadlines pending. I’m really cramming exactly this very instant to get the whole thing finished. I extreme dislike my lethargy; I blame it on my missing social life.

But you know what?

I just realized that all these trials, deadlines, and pressure are here to make me commit to my responsibility better, even if it’s freaking hard.

There are times when the anxiety makes me suicidal, but that’s not the attitude.

The feeling of finally getting the fruits of something I worked hard for is incomparable.

And in a few years, I’ll look back to everything that has happened, and just grin. Then, I’ll tell myself it was all a good memory and a worthwhile experience.

So, whatever problems come my way, I’ll just enjoy it. Feel the trial. Fall. Cry.

Maybe I want to create on those presents now. I’m sentiment a bit overjoyed in a shopping mood after writing this situation. Pleased holidays each one!

My Life’s Drama

The night was cold and quiet; a perfect night to stroll and enjoy the fresh, humid air. So, instead of hurrying home, I took the time to enjoy the night. The stillness of the surrounding was so inviting; it was a perfect night to ponder on a dream I thought I already lost into naught.

I walked past a middle aged woman jogging with her dog. She seemed so absorbed in her jog she didn’t even noticed me. From the looks of her, she seemed content with her life. She must be the VP or better yet, the CEO of some multinational company. A few meters ahead, I passed a group of young students. They looked so happy and carefree exchanging stories, oblivious to the world around them.

I looked at the books in my hand and thought I want a life like these people around me, blithe and easy. But, I would only get to that state if I get back my long lost dream. I want to pursue it now more than ever. I want to be more than just anybody. The world is huge out there. And it would take a lot of preparation to be that somebody I desire. The road is still long, and there’s a lot to do and experience along the way.

This is a battle I want to achieve on my own. I know that the space left for me in this world has not yet been filled, and so, I won’t falter working on that space to realize my dream.

Of Edward and the Shadowhunters

I spent most of my teenage years locked in my room, skimming over pages and pages of romance novels and fantasy books. I was a bookworm then. In fact, I think I missed all the fun in the Friends show or the sassy episodes of Beverly Hills 90210 from staying glued to a book. So much for my teenage life.

But when I started working, I lost interest in books; maybe because of exhaustion and stress or simply because I already outgrew romance novels. Since then, I find it hard to pick up a book and sit for long hours crying or getting excited over a book. BUT, all that changed with the whole gothic, vampire era people seem to live these days. I was among those who got hooked with Edward and Bella. Thanks to them, my book days are back again.

There’s one book I’m so hooked today—The Mortal Instruments trilogy. Like the story of Edward and Bella, the book combines the magical world with the real world. A normal girl suddenly finds herself in a different world complete with demons, warlocks, vampires and the like. Of course, there’s a touch of romance in the novel. After all, what good is a novel without the written pages of admiration and affection?

If the Shadowhunters and their magical world are real, I would love to live there. Maybe the next time I hit the club, I’d check out the dark corners. Who knows, I might find them there.

Age doesn’t matter, or does it?

If someone asks your name with your age, how would you respond? Would you tell your real age? Or would you just tell your name, no age attached?

In today’s world of yuppies, high-tech gadgets, and online world, it’s often hard to tell what a person’s real age is, whether we are talking about health age, cognitive age, or just plain age. Different professionals have different ways of measuring a person’s age. But the calendar age, which all of us follow, is often the source of scrutiny to most people. Many don’t want to reveal their real age for fear of being called old.

It’s really funny ‘cause I myself don’t want to tell my real age when asked. There was a certain point in my life when I started answering age questions with a blank stare. Since then, all age-related inquiries were either answered with a stare, a smile, or a guffaw; a seemingly clever maneuver to avoid a seemingly simple question.

I’m not ashamed with my age or anything. But experience-wise, if people don’t know your real age, it keeps them interested. They treat you like a pal, minus the phony ‘elderly’ respect. But of course, there’s a downside to that. When people don’t know if you are older or younger than they are, they neglect to respect you altogether. Most of the time, they just snob you or give you the cold shoulder.

So, if they say that age doesn’t matter, then why do people still cower when asked of their age? Why do people act like they are answering a difficult Physics question when the age question arises? As my mother would often say, ‘people don’t usually think and act their age’, so why bother telling your age?

At the end of the line

When you’ve reach a certain peak in your life, everything starts to stop and move in a slow motion. It’s like reaching the highest point of a mountain. As you reach the top, you feel so overwhelmed with your achievement and everything you see around. But then as you stay longer on top, things seem to come to a halt. The landscape becomes so familiar; soon you’ll feel tired of seeing the same thing over and over again. Ultimately, you would want to experience something new; something more fun and exciting.

That’s when you’ll start your descend to get to a new mountain top. But along the way, every step you’ll take will feel like a huge endeavor. Usually, it’s on the descent that flashbacks of the past will come to mind. It’s the stage you pay for your mistakes and regret for what you’ve done and missed doing. It’s also the time you’ll learn to accept the consequences of your mistakes.

It’s like death—a slow, painful death. There’s no turning back, no point of return. There’s only one way in and no way out. Frustrating. Confusing. Just when you think life has been good, you suddenly find yourself on a sinking ground. It’s the end for you.

The Pursuit of Happiness

Suppose you suddenly get hold of a genie lamp. After careful scrutiny and a few rubs, a genie appears and gives you one wish, just one wish. But you can’t just wish for anything; he will give you two options and you have to pick only one.

Option one: he will give you a palace complete with servants and a garage full of luxurious cars and a carriage; millions of cash enough to last for a lifetime; and vacation houses all over the world. In other words, you’ll get to live like a royalty. BUT, everyone else gets twice apiece of what you have.

Option two: you get ten million dollars, but no one else gets anything.

There’s even a bonus. Whichever you choose, the genie will erase your memory of making the choice, so you’ll stay guilt-free.

Now, which would you choose? A luxurious life in your palace where everyone else gets more than what you have? Or a life where you get to be the only one millions richer?

I know, you’re thinking of option one; you get what you want while your friends get theirs, too. Everyone wins; everyone is happy. Ultimately tough, I don’t think you’ll be happy with that choice. Who would ever get to stay happy when you know that your friends have more than what you have? Humans are simply not wired like that. Would you be happy if what you have is less than what you think you should have?

The ugly truth is that maximizing happiness for humans mean spoiling everyone else’s life while spoiling themselves only half as much. No one seems to be content of what life offers to them today. It’ll always be getting more than what others have.

Crying out Loud

The blissful mood of the hundreds or so women, men, and children happily playing and resting in the park was suddenly disrupted by a loud wail. It was coming from a girl of no more than four or five years old. Everyone was looking at her, including me, for fear that something terrible was happening to her.

I gawked at her a long time, trying to see if she was faking it. Some children are such con artists, you know; they love crying at inopportune moments just to catch everyone’s attention. Trust me; I know that for a fact.

But this kid wasn’t a fake; she was indeed crying. She was muddy and dirty, with dry leaves and flowers dangling from her hair; looks like she just had a bad fall. Beside her was her mother angrily muttering incomprehensible chides while trying to get the dirt off her.

The scene was something I saw often in that place. It happened to me before when I was her age, my mother scolding me in a public place for doing something appalling. It maybe a typical mother-daughter moment, but I don’t think it should be done in public.

Have you ever experienced being shouted at by your boss in front of your colleagues? How did you feel when he told everyone of your mess? Embarrassing, right?

The little girl may be feeling the same way. She may not only be crying for her mistake, but for humiliation as well. We all make a mistake. That’s a fact. If the mother was scolding her child to teach her a lesson or show the kid her love, I don’t think she should yell at her in public.

Why not explain to the kid why what she did was wrong instead of shouting at her? She should have just hugged her and tell her it’s okay to fall down. Comforting her instead of embarrassing her would tell the kid that it’s okay to fall and eventually she would realize that it’s best to clean up and stand up instead of cry out.

I don’t know. Maybe I’m mistaken. May be the kid did something worse than what I saw. Maybe I’m misjudging the mother. But still, I believe that teaching a child good ideals don’t have to be done through humiliation, and worse, in public.