KC's Birthday Story

Every year on my birthday, I have a party. It’s a cheaper way to celebrate, compared to treating all my friends to a restaurant or a round of drinks. Yes, I’m proud to say, that I do have lots of friends. Some close, others closer. Anyway, this year though, I wanted a quiet, more personal April 16. No, it has nothing to do with turning 31. I never had a “why, God, why!” (Joey Tribianni-Friends) moment every time I get older. I was actually a bit concerned about that. Should I feel my age?(Because I don’t) Should I “plan” stuff? (I never do.) Should I start wearing age-appropriate clothes? (But they’re soo boring!)

I digress. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that, I opted for a quiet birthday because I wanted to reflect on turning older. The day wasn’t as quiet as it unfolded—with two separate sets of friends surprising me with a birthday shindig and my brothers borrowing a videoke machine.

But I found a little time for myself before all the parties started. I tried a new café, ordered chai, and read Birthday Stories, a collection of well, birthday short stories by Haruki Murakami.

The introduction was funny. Haruki narrated a birthday incident where he heard his birthday being announced on the radio as an “event” for that day. He found it a little discomfiting that his birthday is considered a national “event”. He also talked about how pleased he was when he found out that he shared a birthday with author Jack London—Haruki likes his work and he felt a connection with the creator of The Call of the Wild and White Fang. Well, they both are literary geniuses so I get the connection. To celebrate, Haruki drinks a glass of Jack London wine on his birth date, a Cabernet Sauvignon, made in a vineyard not far from Jack London’s own estate.

I wanted that kind of connection. I guess, to get some pathetic confirmation of how special I could be. There are a couple of famous people I share my special day with. The likes of basketball great Kareem Adbul Jabbar, Charlie Chaplin, Selena, Shu Qui, and even Japanese Pop singer Bonnie Pink. She sang It’s Gonna Rain—the lovely song playing during the closing credits of Samurai X.

They were people I like and even admire but, they don’t satisfy the bond I wanted to form. I wanted good wine and instead I’m getting, I don’t know—ice cold beer. I dug a bit more and came up with Nobel Prize for Literature Anatole France. I am now currently trying to look for his works.

I’m not sure if Anatole and I will be kindred spirits but I like one of his quotes:

“Wandering re-establishes the original harmony which once existed between man and the universe.”

Pride and Sensibility

I don’t know if it comes with age. But these days, realizations are an everyday occurrence.

During my younger years, these Zen moments come with a bloated sense of self. Each thought seems like the most original idea ever. Each opinion voiced with careless bravura. Intellectual snobbishness is a common thing I see among my friends and it’s quite possible I also suffer from the same affliction. But I was young, so it was excused.

Now, I have a much more humble perception of how I think and how I process concepts and emotions. I know I will always encounter people who are better than me, just as I will meet people who are not worth my time. I accept that there are those who can jeté higher, those who have more beautiful hair, and those who can narrate a story with more verve.

Though humility is a virtue, maybe everyone needs to be a little haughty sometimes. Sometimes it helps to think we’re bigger, better than who we really are. When we create an illusion, sometimes it becomes real. History tells us that loftiness does sometimes produce results which would have otherwise been beyond one’s imagination.

offensive defense

i should really start working on some of my writing assignments but stupid work gets in the way. i owe wmn a story on boudoir photography. i owe ickle an OFW article. and i owe malou a freakin’ cookbook. I should really focus on my rackets during my free time instead of blogging…

anyway, this work week was the pits. not because i was escalated—hell, i hate that word—but because i was asked to provide a, what I’d call, defensive documentation. it is for my own good and i have nothing to hide but to actually “defend” one’s self over matters which existed prior to my ever being there! what the powers of mordor don’t get is that what they’re really frustrated at is the system that they created themselves. and since they can’t very well admit to themselves they made such huge mistakes all along their merry way, they instead escalate the spoc—single point of contact, aka, the person to blame.

they hired me so that they can have someone to blame. hmm, I wonder what would be the best title for such a distinguished position? Chairperson for complaints and other criticisms? The Mis-manager? The Shoot-her-visor?

i would rather apologize for something I know I did wrong rather than come up with pathetic defenses that would either put blame on someone else or pass the stress along. and they wonder why they have such a convoluted institution!

now, you’re probably wondering if I did the defensive documentation—well i did. i mean, why name a blog sell-out Shakespeare, right? but before you judge! i mean, I’m confident that my documents would indeed support my claim. but, more than that, i’m planning my very own version of revenge. i will keep you posted on how i’d do just that. :>

amelie's angst

made a few adjustments to the post because when i was writing it, i was distraught!!

In my favorite movie, Amelie, Audrey Tautou plays an imaginative young lady who decides that it's about time she really starts to live—a realization she got after the untimely death of Princess Diana. She decides to shake things up by getting more involved with her neighbors’, her co-workers’, and dad’s affairs. She decides to help others—which she does. What she doesn’t realize is that what she really needed is to focus on her own life--to stop playing games with that guy who collects messed up photobooth snapshots.

But she was afraid to take the chance. This was why Amelie was likened to the mysterious Renoir lady drinking a glass of wine in the Impressionist painting, Luncheon of the Boating Party. She was in the middle of it all, but she seemed to stand out. She didn't seem like she belonged.

I think about these things now that I have finally decided—life is too short to settle for a mere existence and not being connected to people that truly matter. Sure, we can compromise about work. But there are certain things that shouldn’t be done half-baked like relationships, exercise, fanaticism over a boyband, being an artist, etc.

I saw the film way back and I remember being totally affected by the tale and the crispness of each scene. Directed by Jean Pierre Jeunet, the cinematography is excellent and each scene was meticulously photographed and planned, he simply doesn't waste film.

The concept of "joie de vivre", also an important Impressionist idea, reminds me of the original point of this entry, grabbing life by the balls and not letting go.

pop goes the king and an angel

today is the day Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett died. today is the day I had to write a tribute to the King of Pop. I tried to do it as respectfully as possible, not wanting to be obtrusive. but then I had to add a link so that people can download his songs. and, again, I thought about what has been bugging me the past couple of weeks—what a complete sell out I am.

the worst part is knowing that I’d do it again. because it’s what I can do—writing that is, not selling out. it’s how I make a living. it’s what I enjoy doing—writing that is, not selling out.

this was never the plan. but then again, I never plan. what I lack in strategic career preparation, I make up for in a self assessed notion of creative-slash-intellectual pursuit of truth, beauty, and other metaphysical concepts. in short, I went for whimsy instead of security.

not that I mind the lack of the latter, but at the end of the day, especially if you live in a third-world country, one needs to eat. and, if you’re a self-professed artiste, one needs to swallow a lot of crap to be able to make ends meet. and that means compromise.

and I ponder on the timing of this existential dilemma. is it because pop icons which represented my generation are now gone? is it because at 31, I still have not set one word on my future best-selling, critically acclaimed novel? is it because I am slowly arriving at the end of my compromise tether?

hmmm…

today, the King of Pop and an angel died. It is the end of an era. does this mean that I have to grow up now?