I am the king of wishful thinking.

Man, it has been a while. Years, literally.

But I'm not here to talk about that.

Recently, I've played my favorite video game again. In that video game is a certain character named Krelian. It was from his character that I've heard the most powerful line from a video game.

'If god does not exist, I will create him with my own hands.'

First, a bit of a back story. This isn't a video game review, or a summary of the plot, jus so you know. Krelian's town was attacked, and in so, lost the person that mattered to him the most. Even with his grief, he tried to help those around him, comforting the afraid and treating the injured. All those who suffered kept calling out to god, and there was no response. Those that were dying...well, died. Needless to say, this was all too much for Krelian. It was bad enough to have lost the person closest to him, but it was something else to see those around him suffer.

And that's when he lost is.

Where is this god that you are calling out to? Does he not exist? Why do things like these happen? If god does not exist, I will create him with my own hands.

Don't worry, I'm not questioning my faith, nor God's existence.

Krelian created a god, in the hopes of having those who suffer someone to turn to. And yet, the god he created became a destructive one. In the heat of all this, Krelian had forgotten why he had created that god, and had caught up and carried away in the destructive hatred his creation had felt.

Or perhaps was his creation merely an intense formation for his intense emotion?

Anyway. It was only in death that he had realized his mistake, and had passed on with a peaceful look on his face. It was almost as if he was glad that someone had destroyed his creation, and in the process, him as well.

My point in relaying Krelian's sad story is that he was the very epitome of the nice guy who finishes last. He snapped, and got carried away in his hatred.

This is also a sad story of how the best of intentions can spawn the worst of results.

I don't think I need to die in order to realize all this. And no, I had not thought of this from a video game. The difference between me and him is that I am not artificial intelligence.

Frankly, I am sick of being the so-called nice guy. Where the hell has it ever gotten me? I've never really gotten what I want, often having to settle for less. I get pushed aside and around, and even being blamed for exactly that, jus trying to be nice and pleasing. When our good intentions are misunderstood for those of bad, it's not a good feeling, let me tell you that. We end up getting hated for something we were unaware of doing.

Well I'm sick of it. People really think that I look like a prick, I might as well act the part. So here's to you, people. Here's one last nice thing I'll do for you. You want me to be a prick so bad, you got it.

No more mister nice guy.

While in the arms of slumber... gonna leave it all behind.

In relation to my last post, that three to four year sabbatical were some of the best of my life. When it came to an abrupt end, I lost it. I was devastated, I was hurt, I was (insert adjective here).

It even came to the point when I tried to physically hurt someone.. and it wasn't just anyone. It was someone I can comfortably call a friend, and I tried to physically hurt him. I guess I have him to thank, he could've easily broken my jaw that night, but instead, he subdued me, told me to calm the fuck down.

As to why I did it? I don't think I'll ever know. I was jus so fucking pissed at anything and everything that night. I jus wanted to hit something... something that felt it.

Dreams. What are they? As a student of the mind myself, I've never really been able to figure it out. Not even the 'greatest' psychoanalyst of our time was able to, and God knows he tried.

I've had two dreams that've recently stood out in my mind in recent times.

The first occurred about a month and a half ago. I still vividly remember it, partly because the setting of that dream was in my very own home - the place where you think, you feel you'd be safest.

Someone... 'close' came to came in that dream. i don't remember any of the other stuff we talked of, but she asked to get back together with me. I said no. Why? Because I was seeing someone else at that time, and it was true. She then asked - 'So you'd rather go after someone who doesn't even know the way she feels about you, than be with someone who for sure will be with you, and knows how they feel about you?'

I woke up with cold sweat that morning. I'm not the type of person who perspires when they sleep. In fact, I can't remember the last time I woke up in cold sweat from a dream, and I've had my fair share of bad dreams.

The second dream that stood out, for me, just happened several nights ago. First, let me start by narrating the characters - there was myself, of course, person A, person C, and person B, who as I remember, was named Miya, or Maya... I'm inclined to think it was Miya. I remembered that. She did not look like anyone I know or have met, and I credit myself with having a pretty good memory.

As for the setting, it actually spanned across several - Boracay beach, inside a van/bus, and at the BTC parking lot playing rugby with an orange and black Nerf football. Yeah. Go figure.

'Miya' always tried to set me up with person C. I don't even remember what person C looked like. I jus know that in that dream, both me and person C had no interest in each other. It was Miya herself who kept saying stuff like he's a really good guy and all that - So yeah, it was Miya who was interested in me. But I saw her as the friend. In that dream, I was interested in person A. As for person A, I don't remember what she looked like, either - I jus know that I know her. Long wavy dark hair, light skin color (almost pale), and for some reason, ample sized breasts. Person A wouldn't give me the light of day. However, whenever she'd see that Miya and me would be hitting it off, she's immediately get in the way of it. While we were in that van/bus, Miya sat in front of me, and I was beside person A. Miya and I were really hitting it off, talking about God knows what. When person A saw that Miya and I were starting to get a bit too comfortable with each other, she would purposefully get physical with me, jus to see the hurt on Miya's face - and she would derive a sick, twisted pleasure out of it. The sad part is, I didn't even seem to mind. I remember that when I'd finally decided to go look for Miya, I could no longer find her.

One of the of the more interesting parts of this whole sequence was Miya's appearance. I know that I've never seen her before, and yet, if I saw her face in a crowd, I think I'd be able to spot her. She was short, had a healthy tan, shoulder length hair, a hint of Oriental ancestry in her, and a certain charm to her.. Don't get me wrong, I'm not going to go on some wild goose chase to look for the 'girl of my dreams.'

What does this all mean? I don't know. Frankly, I don't think I should care, either. But I'd by lying if I said I didn't think about it a couple of times.

Comfort of my dream, I resign myself to you.

'Cuz tomorrow's jus another day, and I don't believe in time.

The eagle has landed. Again.

It was only because of my last post that I realized how long it's been since I last wrote anything here... Approximately three to four years. Yes - years.

It even came to the point when someone very close to me asked as to why I haven't written in that long, when a lot of things've happened then.

It was only last night that I was able to finally realize the answer to that.

I was happy.

You're packing a suitcase for a place none of us has been.

So yeah, it's been way too long since I've actually written here. To be honest, there's been several things I've been wanting to write about - my new found love for the world's most beautiful game, Newcastle United getting relegated, the former president, the new president, the disappearance of true rock... among others.

But in relation to that last statement, I've been tripping out on one particular song, from one of the world's greatest musicians of all time. Funnily enough, I never really paid that much attention the first time I heard the song. Sure, it had a great beat and everything - but I never really paid attention to the message before... Well, before I decided to take a fifty minute stroll around midtown. At one in the morning.

For the longest time, I never knew what he meant by 'Love is not the easy thing. The only baggage that you can bring is all that you can't leave behind.'

First, notice how it's love is not THE easy thing, and not love is an easy thing? But yeah, after another past-midnight stroll (this time in the comfort and safety of my own subdivision), I believe I was finally able to decode it. Well, meaning is subjective, but here's my two cents of it.

All relationships are terminal. Even marriage. Even though divorce isn't legal in most Eastern nations, it's still 'til death do us part, right? We all die.

But on a less morbid note - 'the only baggage you can bring is all that you can't leave behind.' All relationships are terminal, and sometimes by our choice. At the same time, though, every relationship every individual goes through 'molds' that individual. At least that's my interpretation of it. When someone says that they've 'completely' moved on from their past relationship - have they really? That's what I mean when someone is molded through every relationship they go through. I actually don't believe in the concept of tabula rasa, but I'm a firm believer in social nurture. Who we are is formed by everything around us. And yes, every relationship we go through forms our identity. That's what I think anyway. But isn't it a choice?

That's another thing I believe in - everything is a choice. Now, I understand this may actually contradict my earlier statement about social nurture. Then again, who we are is also our choice. If we wanted to hang out with a bunch of gangstas and drug addicts, sure, we could - and become one in the process.

Frankly, I think I've lost my key point. But yeah, in love, there are things we can't leave behind - how much, that's our choice.

All that we fashion, all that we make... All that we build, and all that we break. All that we measure, and all that we feel, and all that we can't leave behind.

Be strong. Walk on.

Blinded by the silence of a thousand broken hearts...

It's that time of the month again. This here is another one of my 'older' compositions, that I decided to write... well... jus' for the heck of it, really. I was bored one afternoon, committed fingers to keyboard, and jus' kept on writing... as to how well do I exactly know myself. This is one composition that'll never be final and finished, for one person can never really know himself fully, yes?


Who am I? Really?

Mariano Ramon P. Baccay III. Son of Mariano Jr. and Lydia, younger sibling of Ma. Racquel Jossette, Georgia Camille, Isabel, and Katrina Socorro, and older sibling of Marco Lorenzo. A resident of Cebu, Philippines for 24 years, and Hanoi, Vietnam for one.

An idealist. A person who’s too curious for his own good. A person who’s a nice guy, but knows when not to be one. A doubtful Catholic, for he questions for the perception of faith. He believes in heaven, hell, and purgatory. Loves the color blue, but could probably change next month. A slacker. A person who doesn’t like to pretend to be someone he’s not. Doesn’t care about rumors that circulate around him, for that’s all that they are – rumors. A person likes to write the strangest literary pieces, including this one. A person who doesn’t have a problem letting down his pride, for he does not believe in the concept of pride. A guy who fears death, not for the thought of death itself, but for leaving loved ones behind. A wannabe philosopher. Then again, a wannabe baller. A person who cares deeply for his friends, for he knows in himself that he has selected them wisely. Someone who lives life with a few guiding principles that he’s selected…carefully. One hell of dreamer…but was told that the best of dreams are always unattainable. A person who has many questions in the game of life, but doesn’t expect them answered. A person who believes strongly in his own beliefs. A person who’s been told that he looks like an asshole, but only because his eyebrows naturally slope downwards. A person who doesn’t like to leave things unfinished, in whatever form. A person who owes another person three thousand bucks. A person who believes in what is right, and will fight for it if necessary. A person who will fight for the right reasons. A person who likes to learn. A person who keeps the strangest of things for memory’s sake. A person who can type at fifty words per minute. A person who likes to laugh, and at the same time someone who is not ashamed to cry. A person who enjoys reading. An emotional person. A person who enjoys happiness for others. He thinks that the worst feeling/s in the world are helplessness and rejection. A person who likes to talk, but knows when to shut up as well. A person who used to weigh 190 pounds, and is still currently trying to shed off some pounds, in vain. A person who enjoys the right company, and abhors the wrong one. A person who cannot imagine taking another person’s life, for whatever reason. He never said he didn’t believe it torture, though. A person who likes to make others laugh, even by making fun of himself. A person who can deal with failure, for failure is a part of learning. A person who has a hard time finding motivation, but once he does, nothing gets in his way. A person who likes to sleep. Not sleep around – just sleep. A person who enjoys learning, and keeps learning. Not necessarily in the field of academics, though. A person who’s always looking for things, yet easily sated. He’s also practically given up on government and politics.


Holla.

Hope dangles on a string...

It's been a while... again... The main problem when it comes to my blogging, I'd say, is that I find something I want to write about, then another, until I forget about what it was I wanted to write about to begin with. Here was one of them:

A month or so ago, I visited the southern provinces with family and friends. I rather enjoyed it.. it's good to take a break from the bustling city every so often. Visiting the provincial areas is also a humbling experience.

Since my 'kuya' is from there, we joined him to pay respects to his grandparents and relatives who've long passed away. For one, the cemetery there is not as 'glorified' as the ones I seldom see here in the city. There were graves that have been forgotten, and the overall maintenance of the place is something else to be desired. On the way to say our prayers, I noticed graves.. that looked like someone buried their shoes in them. I then noticed the date of birth and death... July 11, and July 12. One such headstone even stated that the newborn didn't even reach to be a day old. Now that was a humbling experience.

I came to think about it... and how devastated (if there's a word stronger than that, let me know) their families might've been. A newborn is always a joy to have around the house.. from gladly making an idiot out of yourself in public by telling them how cutesy-wutesy they are, from teaching it how to walk, speak, and being with them on great moments of their lives... Their first day of school, their first puppy love, their first hangover... well, maybe the last one doesn't apply for all of us.

But anyway, another thing I'd like to bring up is how people, especially the younger ones these days, seem to jus' waste away their lives. And we have these people who've never even had the chance to experience life... Life isn't all great as we know it, but isn't that the beauty of it?

What jus' pisses me off is that those infants who died without even reaching a month old would've prob'ly made much better use of people who decide to jus' waste away their lives.

Holla.

It's like a dream you try to remember, but it's gone...

The other day, I was jus' goin' through my old archives in my computer, particularly stuff I have written before. There were pieces which made me laugh out loud and say "I can't believe I wrote this..." There were also some in which made me shake my head and say... "I can't believe I wrote this." Finally, there were also those that made me stare harder into the computer monitor and.. Yup... I can't believe I wrote this.

I've no real point to prove in this blog entry... but jus' would like to post one of those things that I wrote before... a poem, to be exact. I'm not much of a poet, really... But I wrote this simple-three stanza poem... jus' for the hell of it, really. These three stanzas pretty much summed up how I felt back then. It's jus' good to look back on some things, y'know?

To spend my eternity with you,

Is something I am dreaming to do,

For it is you always in my heart.

All those nights we were together,

How I wish those lasted forever,

For it is you always in my heart.

It is now that I find it hard to live,

For it was your love you refused to give.

For it is you always in my heart.