fleeting love.

on “the trip” i had two separate experiences involving intense emotional attachment to someone followed closely by prolonged unwanted separation from that same someone. one was a filipino toddler named ceba, and the other was a girl in my group named s*. both of them got a few mentions in burton – this first entry was during the bus ride back from the village:

everyone in out party was moved by the people that we stayed with the past few days. for c* there were dozens of little kids that stuck to him like glue for three days. for m* there were so many of the elders of the village that were so inspiring with their depth of faith and generosity. for me, there was only one: ceba.

ceba is my unlikely friend, a girl no older than 4 years. she was attached to b* first, but we fell for each other after she initiated an impromptu game of peek-a-boo (i, too, was shocked to learn that peek-a-boo still exists and is still amusing to children) on our second afternoon in the village. and for the rest of the afternoon we played around. then the next morning before we left i wouldn’t let her leave my sight. we danced and played and when i finally left her, it took everything in me to not bawl uncontrollably. times like these are when i wish that i was a father. i want to have a family, more than anything.

this entry was that night, around 4 a.m. when my sadness was keeping me awake:

i will never see that girl ever again. i spent a grand total of 120 minutes total with her, and right now i miss her more than i miss my own mother. what cruel misfortune that in all likelihood she won’t even remember me in a day or two. i saw it coming – i always do: my fellow journeymen were getting so attached to the lovely people we met, knowing how hard it would be to say good-bye. and, as usual, i didnt’ listen to reason and got attached also. i fell into the trap of caring so much even when i didn’t have to, with no basis in reason or logic.

brings me back to the infernal fucking question: are the fleeting-yet-euphoric highs of love worth the devastating, eternal lows that are practically inevitable? right now, with my heart aching the way it has been all day, the answer is a rousing “no, they are not.”

on the second leg of the journey (sydney, australia), i started to get attached to s*, with whom i had only a few interactions at school and in manila. but when she and i began to talk, it seemed that we clicked almost instantly. unfortunately, we both knew that powers beyond our control would separate us for nearly a year. on our last night in sydney, we met up in a club, danced for about 3 hours, and made out a little. hands down, best night of the entire trip…until we said goodbye. i wrote about her the next day:

s* affected me, unexpectedly (but who doesn’t love surprises, eh?). yes, i love that she’s a blonde and i love that she’s taller than me (two firsts for me), and i think it’s possible that she is somewhat into me. but what is sticking with me right now is that she seemed legit upset when she had to leave me (it’s worth noting that i, too, was rather upset, but my drunken optimism was coming through a lot stronger). when you can hear in their voice the strain that comes from choking back tears, there is no single greater feeling of validation. you know that for that moment, you are the most important thing to at least one person (who just happens to be, for that moment, the most important thing to you).

…

holy crap, i can’t stop thinking about her. and while i relish that rare sensation of someone feeling strongly for me, i really don’t dig the whole “separated-for-a-year” thing. i’m an optimist, but i’m also a realist. and i know that much will change about the both of us in that time and we just won’t be the same people when that year is finished. precious reciprocity from someone that i like, and it’s wasted. ridick.

roughly six weeks have passed, and i do still think about her, and feel almost as strongly towards her. i want to know that we can give a shot at some kind of relationship when the timing is right. i’m an optimist, but i’m also a realist. i don’t want to get my hopes up only to have them dashed. again i ask: are the highs of love worth the lows?

well, now that you know how women of all ages can break my heart and break my balls, i think i’ll call it a night.

on destiny.

a friend of mine – brilliant girl in the classroom but a bit naive (and a tad slow) about real life matters – said something that got me thinking. on an ex-boyfriend, she would offer no justification or insights on what went wrong other than, “everything happens for a reason” and  “God puts us where he wants us to be.” then she starts throwing around buzzwords like “destiny” and “meant to be” etc. i had to speak up at that point. “what a cop-out,” i said. “by your logic, we as humans should do nothing other than wait for God to ‘put us’ where we’re ‘meant to be.’ ” she’s a good kid (if 20 years old can pass as a “kid” anymore) but sometimes her innocent mentality can get the better of her.

i’ve been thinking about choice and purpose and “fate,” if such a thing exists, at length lately. right now i’ve arrived at some kind of theory that somewhat balances my realistic approach towards existence with my incessant desire to believe in something beyond this realm of existence. here’s what i’ve come up with:

as far as fate and destiny and horoscopes etc. are concerned, i don’t buy it. movie quotes are slowing starting to dominate much of my life’s philosophy, so if i may borrow one from keanu: “i don’t like the idea that i’m not in control of my own life.” weak example: if you told me that i’m destined to  be an astronaut, then there’s no point in going to truck driving school like i always wanted to. the concept of choice becomes moot, and there’s really no point in working towards anything other than being an astronaut.

but anyone with half a brain has probably already figure that out, so i’m really just telling you what you already know.

human “destiny” would imply that there’s some supreme deity behind the scenes making sure it all goes according to the divine plans allegedly set out for all of us: “the manipulator controlling his marionettes in accordance with a pre-conceived script”  is my favorite metaphor, because i believe that it has almost complete parity.

thanks to that near-perfect imagery, i’m able to realize that i just don’t believe that whatever deity you surrender to at the end of the day (in my case, “God”) would do that. it doesn’t make sense, for a number of reasons. i’ll admit that i believe in an omniscient/omnipotent God responsible for creation, etc. but as far as the creator’s role in the lives of its people, i abandon the marionette imagery. in favor if what, you ask? bowling.

God sets ‘em up. i knock ‘em down. i’ve had a lot of things happen to me that have convinced me that some greater power is seeing to it that i have the opportunities to live a morally sound and spiritually fulfilling life. but once those opportunities are set in place, it is out of God’s hands – i need to make the final call. my “destiny,” if you will, is nothing more that what i do with the opportunities laid before me. the means may have something to do with God, but the end is ultimately up to me.

i’ve got more on this, like how God knows what choices i will make but the choice is still my own, yadda yadda yadda. but that makes about as much sense as the rest of this post (which is next to none) so i’ll sit on that and give it a go some other time.

filippino love.

i spent three days in a village in padre garcia (municipality), batangas (province), luzon (island), philippines (country, duh). my group was working with an organization that builds cheap housing on donated parcels of land for the poverty-stricken people of the region. imagine a townhouse development scaled down about 1,000x and that’s the village. so we got to bushwhack, paint, mix cement, and the like. similar to habitat for humanity, i assume. and while the work being done there is very noble, of more note are the people. if i may paraphrase from burton:

these people really love jesus. like, really, really love jesus. faith is such an integral part of their community, the way that they love being christian, it almost makes me think that they actually believe in it. my present struggles with my own faith are rooted in the fact that i never chose to be a catholic. this crisis has provided an avenue for self-exploration et al. that has helped me to know myself much better, but not without cost: it’s not easy to cope with someone challenging everything that you thought you believed in, especially when that someone is yourself. and in seeing these people, they provide a strong counter to that particular grievance (not choosing, that is), in that they are more concerned with the faith itself and less with the philosophy of choice and are perfectly  content with that. what’s more, they are affected by the faith they practice. the values and ideals that are supposed to be instilled in followers of christ (you know, the ones that appear almost nonexistent in most american churchgoers) are with these people at all times. their christianity doesn’t start when they enter church for a sunday service and end when they walk out the door; it lives and breathes with them in everything that they do.

and it thusly raises the question: would i rather: a) be able to choose for myself, be completely aware of my choice, and subsequently struggle with the ramifications of having to make that choice, or b) be blissfully ignorant of the fact that i even have a choice and just live my life the way that i was taught to?

my new filippino friends all seem to go with the latter, and they seem to be all right with it. i watch them laugh in the face of unspeakable poverty. i watch them offer their food from their supplies, not their surplus. i watch them sleep on the floor so their guests can have the bed. so much love and purity and happiness (starkly different from american life) is due in no small part to the faith that they practice.

when the end result is love and hospitality and true humanity, what does it matter if you’re a christian of any denomination or a buddhist or anything else? and what does it matter if you chose to be that or not? i think that such an end justifies the means (and the means of the means, if you can wrap your mind around that).

on ink.

on a flight to hong-kong, i drafted the beginnings of a treatise on tattoos, and why i probably won’t get any. the following is largely pulled right out of burton, with minor revisions here and there.

i have a fundamental problem with tattoos. j* and c* [names removed to protect the innocent] have several between the two of them, and during our flight’s delay, they both enjoyed having all eyes on them as they showed them off. though i had considered getting inked in the past, i believe i have decided against it. here’s why, in two long-winded reasons:

1. unless placed in the most inconspicuous of places, a tattoo is a decoration meant to send a message to or evoke the reactions of others. in my observation, the people that love to show off their tattoos lean towards having other forms of attention-seeking behavior – leading a conversation to be largely about themselves, thriving in the spotlight of social situations, etc. this is behavior that i personally have been making efforts to stray from. yes, there are people that have tatts that nobody sees, either because of its location or simply because they choose not to flaunt them. these, i believe are the people that do it truly for themselves. but if you ink up your arm or chest, you’re probably banking on people seeing them, and looking forward to the attention you are bound to receive. again, i have no gripe with such people and i’m certainly not trying to be jugdmental. but as i mentioned, that kind of behavior is not the kind that i feel comfortable with.

2. when i was considering a tattoo, i was so torn on exactly what design i would get, its location, etc. believing a tatt represents a conscious decision to inscibe on one’s body something that embodies permanence, my ultimate choice would have to be something that i believed with unwavering doubt. in my recent struggles with self-identity and crises of faith, i am continually seeing that such a symbol probably does not exist. i have not been made aware of any one thing that i will always believe unconditionally for the rest of my life. there’s always that chance that certain events will change my mind about someone, some feeling, some entity that i may have once felt a strong connection to.

my critics may say, “well, you could always have it removed…duh.” yes, that painful process is always on the table. but it’s kind of a copout. if i were to enter into such an extreme commitment conscious of the very possibility that my mind will change, it would compromise the integrity of said commitment, thus dooming it for failure right from the start. kind of like signing a pre-nup. some may call it “covering all their bases”, and i understand that. but from my point of view, merely having such options would probably make me less likely to acknowledge the severity of my decision, and tempt me to run for the hills at the first sign of doubt or regret. thus, compromising the integrity of the commitment.

i can’t stress enough that i’m not picking on people with tattoos (or pre-nups, for that matter). these are generalizations, and i was a tad moody when i penned this entry (14 hours on a plane will do that to you). believe it or not, i admire those that believe strongly enough in something that they will inscribe it permenantly on their bodies. but it’s just not for me. i have enough markings on me that i didn’t ask for, which have their own sad story behind them. maybe i’ll tell you some time.

terminal illness.

title refers to airport sickness, as opposed to life-threatening cancer.

here is my first entry into burton, written at the first of many airports i visited on my journey.

airport terminals are odd places. every single one of these nameless strangers has an agenda, a reason for getting on their plane; be it a business trip, funeral, extramarital affair, etc. they are moving swiftly through the terminal with some kind of purpose.

but i’ll never know why they’re here. none of them are my concern. in all honesty, if i wasn’t sitting here forcing myself to be philosophical and reflective, it would never cross my mind to consider these people. i simply don’t care if they’re on time, excited for their journey, anxious about flying, or anything of the like. thousands of people, all with purpose and a place to be. i see them and they see me, but none of us will ever know or care about anything beyond our own schedule, boarding pass, departure gate.

such a lonely, self-serving place. ironic beginnings for the type of journey upon which i’m embarking.

“the trip.”

this past month, i was part of a service-based immersion pilgrimage in the philippines (henceforth referred to as “the trip”), where myself and many others spent 8 days living and working among the natives. many of my journal entries are direct responses to experiences on this trip, as it was the single most powerful experience of my young life. i found that many questions had been answered and doubts alleviated, while still so many remained. these account for many of the issues that my future posts will tackle, as they will be almost direct re-writes of the words i inscribed on paper at the time.

this was the first time i had been a part of such a journey. i reccommend that any of you with the opportunity and the means take part one too, and spend time with the poor or underprivileged at home or abroad. it is all at once inspiring, heart-wrenching, uplifitng, humbline, and life-changing.

nascence.

first post – just getting my feet wet. stay tuned for some updates.