Kindness

One realizes how deeply and profoundly disillusioned one is when one is starting to judge kindness bestowed upon. Perhaps, one simply has too much time on hand despite having too much deadlines to meet and drafts to submit. Nevertheless, there is truth that can't be denied to the idea that each act of kindness is motivated differently.

Some people are kind to other people because they like the person. It could be because they have some physical attribute that tickles their visual stimuli right enough, or they have a certain character quirk that rubs their hearts warm. Maybe, they were told by their parents to be kind and these people are simply too respectful enough to follow what their parents told them as kids without question. Some people are merely forced to be kind because they are afraid to be judged by the people around them.

Then, there is that kindness that comes from experience. Call it guilt, regret or penance or whatever you may have inside your bag of wise-ass retorts. But, this kindness comes from a deeper region of human emotions. It goes beyond fear, prejudice and hate, and perhaps, the only one that can truly understand them.

A verse my mother fondly recalls to us over and over comes to mind. "Mighty is he who can conquer a city but he who can conquer himself is mightiest of them all."

Last night, I was talking to this guy whose over the top gestures of kindness towards me I initially dismissed as simply being motivated by superficial reasons. As he told me more about himself and the past mistakes and mishaps he has done back in his hay days, I started to understand where all his kindness was coming from. Maybe it still had a touch of neediness but it helped to understand that the most part of it was coming somewhere genuine.

My best friend told me, after sharing this particular inquiring thought with him, that I am perhaps the most shallow person in the world for judging kindness. Maybe I am. After all, I have been called an asshole, greedy and evil in the past.

Sleeplessly procrastinating and frantically passive

I feel so tired. I have two projects to submit on Tuesday. One's a draft for my thesis paper and the other's a draft for an interactive game. So far I have done absolutely nothing. Not a single word typed or a single pixel drawn. I lack sleep. It's moments like this that I want to give up already. I don't know what to do. The computer crashed a few days ago. The hard drive was fixed but all my files are gone, every single byte wiped out. It's really such a defeating emotion.

At least I have a new guilty pleasure but I'm afraid it's taking its toll on my time. I'm too lazy to get my ass out of this chair and actually do something about my project woes.  I'm just too glued, reading this blog. It's like Irvine Welsh meets Lord of the Flies. Very raw and strong characters and emotions bouncing of violently everywhere. It started as a sex fantasy that grew into this epic story about real estate corporations caught between two star crossed lovers from a quaint town in Iloilo. I'm still half-way through the story. It's campy and it's dark but somehow, still, the writer manages to inject valid and feasible human emotions and instincts, which never fails to reel me in deeper into his world. One of the networks here should really take a page from this piece of fiction for their soap operas.

I feel like I'm back there again in my condo in 2434, when I'd be too depressed to get out of bed. No matter how hungry I am or how bad I need to go to the toilet, I'd just lie there in my bed, not sleeping, not really physically immobile but just too unmoved, emotionally unmotivated to move even a single muscle, my brain compensating for the lack of any physical activity. I would stare at my blank white ceiling and move my gaze around the white walls for hours, sometimes lasting almost a whole day. It used to feel like an asylum because it was a huge white space but I painted one wall vermilion just to add a little depth and spirit to the whole place.

Now I'm here. Sitting in front of the computer. Completely unmoved from my seat ever since this morning. Save for my the mechanical wrist motions to maneuver the mouse, and fingers clicking on buttons and keys, and my two visits to the kitchen because the maid kept bugging me to eat, I'd have zero muscle movement.

I am hesitation

I am that soft comforting voice in your head that tells you, you don't need to do a save when you're writing a one page paper. Because why else would you need a save for, when you're going to print it a few minutes later anyway? So you agree and continue typing and then seconds later, there's a brief power interruption and your computer restarts. Then you remember something every single professor you've had in every single computer involved subjects reminds the class: always save your file because you never know when there's going to be a power interruption.

I am that person in front of the mirror when you stare at it with a long-sleeve you just put on, wondering if you should wear it with the outfit. Then I'll tell you it's better if you took it off because less is more. Later in the day, I'll tell you, you should've worn it after all because you look too shabbily plain.

I tell you that that guy is probably only saying it because it gets him off more when he says "I love you" and he'll probably be screwing someone else a few days later or worse, you're the one he's screwing a few days later he said the same thing to another guy.

I am that electricity in your finger that stops you from typing "I miss you" to a message you're going to send to that guy. The same words he sends you two messages later.

I am that nagging voice in your head that comforts you by saying you haven't gotten jaded. You've just learned to patiently wait and accept whatever thing comes your way with temperance.

Myself back then should give myself now a talk

I remember someone asking me if I still manage to surprise myself.

Yesterday, a friend wanted me to see a picture of a guy he was dating in this dating site, which asked me to login. I have already forgotten I used to have an account with them two years ago but the site thoughtfully reminded me. So what I just did was to reactivate that account. I left it activated and tonight I got an email telling me that someone from that site sent me a message. I was wondering how exactly someone took interest in my profile when I haven't really filled it up. I thought that deactivating it would scrap the profile I used to have. Turns out, it was still preserved from when I deactivated it.

When I read the profile a few seconds ago, I was totally shocked at how much I had more grasp of who I am then, how spot on my profile write up was. Because if I would've written on now, I would've probably done something very brief and cryptic. That's how I am to myself nowadays, a mystery, which doesn't actually surprise me. What surprised me was the me back then that had a very clear understanding of myself. If this is the direction I am heading then I should be bothered. Or I guess it's only natural that the more the I grow older, the more vague every detail seems, that line between black and white fades into a broad gradient of gray.

Oh and yeah what better time for this than my birthday, right? Thank you God. Thank you playful Fate. Thank you taunting universe. I get the joke. Now can we all have a moment to laugh? So we can all finally move on.

I like it though. A little self-doubt sometimes can be good.