Chocolate

Some people live just to play the game.

I live to taste it all. Dip my fingers in the chocolate that binds all of us together and... wouldn't it be cool though if we were bound by chocolate?
Hearts made of chocolate, babies made of chocolate, soft happiness. [Cue smiles.]

While you smile and reach out for a cookie, I want to tell you about one of my favorite memories: I was for one night in a theater where they played just for me. Great personae, lights and shadows, rabbits, stolen kisses and sighs, intrigue and fate, hopes and wonders and too much of it all that made my heart race in my chest. Cherry blossoms in bloom and the glimpse of what could've, would've, should've... But that is mine to keep.

Exeunt to today with me licking my fingers, sipping champagne and blissfully ignoring the nine to the two. Would I trade it for something else? Yes and no. Yes to the inner peace, no to the personal freedom that I enjoy. And this I would not trade for the whole wide world. You know, all the Ws.

I am the brave little soldier that soldiers on to his own tune. And there's so few of us left, my love.

The Messiah complex

I have always suffered from something I call "the Messiah complex", namely the belief that I can make people better. That somehow, under my influence, while feeding their positives, they will reach their full potential and become better, whatever that means for them. And the greater the challenge, the more I thought I could make it work, that somehow there is a cosmic reason why our paths intertwined.

I have learned in time that it absolutely does not work. No one ever gets better and definitely not under my influence, because it was an incredibly arrogant assumption to begin with. By no means am I a role model. I am just a person, flawed and imperfect as they come, perhaps with slightly more imagination than others. Is that in any way redemptive? I think not.

Now, if you believe that my intellectual ruminations from above stopped me in any way from continuing to manifest my Messiah complex, then you don't know human nature. We are all aware of the distinction between the intellectual side and the emotional side in man. And we pride ourselves in being cognitive beings, endowed with reason, self-awareness and all that jazz. All that is swell. However, as my friend says, I have found that most of the times, we act upon emotional drives rather than rational ones. Our decisions are based on how we feel about things, and our feelings are determined by lots and lots of networks of details that make up our personal experiential structure.

Therefore, it was with no small cost to me that I had to accept that people do not need drawings on the wall, butterflies, flowers in their hair, soap bubbles and chewing gum. And I am nobody's savior.

"The Flower Duet" from Lakme by Leo Delibes.



The flower. It is pretty. My lady.

The pursuit of happiness

I am back, apparently. With a vengeance, they say. And although I would be tempted to say I am not vengeful, I would be lying.

I am very much preoccupied these days with happiness. What is happiness and how do we achieve it? Tons of stuff have been written on this subject, and I do not intend to add to that, but I would like, however, to give my own take on it.

Happiness is...[wait for it]...a matter of choice. Doesn't that sound mind-bogglingly simple? Well, because it is. And no, I don't mean simplistic. Just simple. People complicate things endlessly with their own fears and frustrations, insecurities and incapacity to think, no, live outside the box. Life is way more safe lived in patterns. Social chains that yank us left and right, just like cattle. But that amounts to merely breathing your way through the days. Happiness is about ego (feel free to contradict me here) - who I am, what do I want and what brings joy to my heart. A joyous heart is always a kind one (so you can relax about the egotistical juxtaposition).

We are not, and I repeat, we are not defined by our good or bad intentions, or by what we think we feel or do. We are defined by our choices.

There. There is nothing simpler than this and yet more complicated. If someone had told me some time ago that I am not happy because I do not want to be, I would have thought him insane and cynical. "What? Who? I would be happy, but the others! society!... it's their fault." But no, that's exactly it. You have to want it, to fight for it, to pursue it like a wild horse that needs to be tamed.

Butterflies all havin' fun, you do know what I mean?
Freedom is mine, and I know how I feel.

I leave you now, my sunny little friends. Feelin' good.

Tiger, tiger

Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
(William Blake)

Down, down and away!

For reasons unbeknownst to me, I have started this blog, an endeavor begun almost two years ago but never completed, or as they say, brought to fruition.

I have often times thought about whether or not I have something to say to the world, that is, aside from the occasional banter, link-sharing and status messages from Facebook, as I have given up my MySpace account and rarely post even on Twitter. I find it slightly inane. "Hi, I am poopin'." I have updated the world.

Supposedly, in the idiot's guide to blogging, you are to pick out a topic for your blog, a theme, if you like. Well, I don't like. I haven't found it, all I can think of is dreams, sliding down the rabbit hole into the realm unknown. Is that even a topic? Who gives a flying rabbit?

So, I will scour the dark alleys of my brain to find issues to talk about, be they dreams or not, and post some more soon. Soon, my lovelies. Oh, and wide-awake dreams do count. In other words, my entire life.

Slide.

P.S.: Kids, don't forget to put on your sarcasm goggles. Otherwise, 3D just ain't worth it.