Lately, I've been seeing a lot of pictures of my high school batchmates having kids, getting married, or teaching kids. I know this is supposed to make me feel real old, but nowadays, it's only got me thinking, 'jesus, what have I been doing with my life?' Why do I still feel like I'm still the same 14-year old in high school that has only grown less mature and more cynical over the years? And why is blogging this entry the only concrete way I could think of to respond to these feelings?
I really don't know if this is a result of being in the extended adolescence called med school, or if this is because I don't feel like an empowered adult because I can't drive. Maybe a big factor is the fact that I can't freely do what I want without consulting my parents? I love my life and I enjoy spending time with my family and friends, but lately some people have been making me feel like my life is too lame. And one such person who scoffed at my typical weekly schedule was considered by many people as LAME. Now that's saying a lot.
I'm supposed to be living my dream/doing what I've always wanted to do right now. I'm now closer than ever to getting that MD (fine..let's not forget that '-MBA') and finally roaming the halls with an anti-septic smell that I so love, not as a patient, but as a part of the healthcare industry. But this slow painful crawl to "the dream" is just too slow that I feel like I'm going nowhere. Will I ever feel independent once I get there? Once I start making decisions for myself AND for others? Only time can tell.
I guess this is why I've been pretty adamant in learning how to drive. I really meant it when I said it's not so much the actual driving that's important to me, but empowering myself to know that I CAN actually drive and take control of where I'm going.
I've always been a self-confessed Peter Pan in a sense that I always knew I would never forget the kid in me. I remember going to a photography class and having lunch with people I just met, and I couldn't help but laugh at myself for trying to carry-on with this adult-like conversation. [SIDE STORY: I also remember a guy in this class who practically scoffed at me when he saw that I had a post-paid number and asked, "hindi ikaw nagbabayad ng bill mo noh?" (translation in case someone else in another part of the world gets to read this: "I'm guessing you're not the one paying your phone bills?") and had this super smug look that said "I thought so" when I said my parents pay for it. What the fuck do you expect, I'm in med school, and as such, I am currently unemployed, so forgive me if the benefits of employment are very much delayed!] But even so... reality has no resemblance at all to Neverland, and at one point or another we feel like we have to grow up. Knowing that I only have 6 years left before turning 30 honestly scares me. The biological time bomb. (Now that's an entirely different topic altogether).
I really don't know what to say anymore.
All I can do now is think that things will turn out well for me in that span of time.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
The thing that I don't like about being a doctor is that you're always looking for something wrong in a person. You're always looking for something to fix. No matter what you say, you're always gonna have this set of ideals, this list of standards, a list of what you think is expected or normal, and somehow, you're always gonna compare what's in front of you with those ideals.
Why can't things be just the way it is? Why is there always something you need to fix? For some, it would be hard to admit that you can't fix everything. Not everything is fixable. Not everything can go the way you want it to be. Sometimes that's just the way life is.
Why can't things be just the way it is? Why is there always something you need to fix? For some, it would be hard to admit that you can't fix everything. Not everything is fixable. Not everything can go the way you want it to be. Sometimes that's just the way life is.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Some thoughts on Into the Wild (film)
I cried while watching this movie!
Happiness is only real when shared.
When Christopher did not find happiness and truth in his parents, the very people he grew up with, he chose to seek out his own adventure- to find truth and happiness in nature and in the simple things in life.
He believed that joy is not principally found in human relationships, that God’s place can be found in anything. While preferring the wild to ‘society,’ his heart involuntarily seeks out these relationships in the people he meets along the way. This is once again, proof that the core of human being is not only to be, but to be WITH. So many times he was given the opportunity to share happiness with other people- and he did- but eventually turned his back on each of these opportunities. It was only in the end that he realized that true happiness is only real when it is shared.
It could also be that because he found meaning in new experiences, he was never pinned down to one constant thing in his life. He might have chosen to share this happiness and appreciation of life in every new person he met. One thing is for sure- he had a goal, he had a dream, and he pursued it. He searched for truth and happiness, and however late, he found it. He found it in the beauty of nature, in the relationships he shared with those he crossed paths with, and in his dying moments, realized what all these meant for him.
Happiness is only real when shared.
When Christopher did not find happiness and truth in his parents, the very people he grew up with, he chose to seek out his own adventure- to find truth and happiness in nature and in the simple things in life.
He believed that joy is not principally found in human relationships, that God’s place can be found in anything. While preferring the wild to ‘society,’ his heart involuntarily seeks out these relationships in the people he meets along the way. This is once again, proof that the core of human being is not only to be, but to be WITH. So many times he was given the opportunity to share happiness with other people- and he did- but eventually turned his back on each of these opportunities. It was only in the end that he realized that true happiness is only real when it is shared.
It could also be that because he found meaning in new experiences, he was never pinned down to one constant thing in his life. He might have chosen to share this happiness and appreciation of life in every new person he met. One thing is for sure- he had a goal, he had a dream, and he pursued it. He searched for truth and happiness, and however late, he found it. He found it in the beauty of nature, in the relationships he shared with those he crossed paths with, and in his dying moments, realized what all these meant for him.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
D i s t o r t i o n s
The world is always more interesting with a bit of distortion. Photographs of usually mundane objects or events come alive in Polaroid prints or in lomo because of their blurriness, and changes in color or form. The more distorted the picture becomes, the more artistic it seems. Subjects like feet on the sand, disheveled faces in worn out clothes, a plate with half-eaten food suddenly look more appealing as they would in real life. Not following rules and techniques in photography are more forgivable because the imperfections created add more effect to the uniqueness of its distortion.
In the same way, distortions in writing and story telling often add more drama. We tend to exaggerate when telling stories to our friends. I can always say, that a lizard leaped out to attack me from nowhere, when in fact what really happened was the lizard just crept out of its hiding place.
In my opinion, another mild form of distortion can be found in sunglasses. It is the perfect accessory to make any outfit look effortlessly interesting. It hides any expression of the eyes that may give way to any sign of emotion, and it shades your eyes for that perfect time to people watch (whether it is to admire or criticize).
Somehow though, I can never get used to wearing my sunglasses. I can’t get myself to see through the tinted lenses without wondering what the world actually looks like. In viewing scenic places I find myself always taking them off for fear that the memory stored in my brain won’t be accurate. I want to see and enjoy the world as it really is, free from created distortions.
In taking photographs, I am occasionally tempted to buy my own lomographic camera and of course, the ever-awesome/timeless Polaroid, but nothing beats holding a plain camera and capturing a moment as it truly is. While I admire amazing photographs enhanced with a bit of distortion (such as vignetting through Polaroid or enhancement through Lightroom/Photoshop), I am truly awed by amazing pictures taken with just a camera, making use of its different settings, and the lighting that is available. For my purposes, since I have yet to master my SLR, the more important thing for me now, is to capture something as close to how it is in real life.
So while literally seeing the world through rose-tinted lenses is an attractive option, I find that there is nothing more beautiful than seeing the world through our own natural lenses, with nothing added, and nothing taken away.
In the same way, distortions in writing and story telling often add more drama. We tend to exaggerate when telling stories to our friends. I can always say, that a lizard leaped out to attack me from nowhere, when in fact what really happened was the lizard just crept out of its hiding place.
In my opinion, another mild form of distortion can be found in sunglasses. It is the perfect accessory to make any outfit look effortlessly interesting. It hides any expression of the eyes that may give way to any sign of emotion, and it shades your eyes for that perfect time to people watch (whether it is to admire or criticize).
Somehow though, I can never get used to wearing my sunglasses. I can’t get myself to see through the tinted lenses without wondering what the world actually looks like. In viewing scenic places I find myself always taking them off for fear that the memory stored in my brain won’t be accurate. I want to see and enjoy the world as it really is, free from created distortions.
In taking photographs, I am occasionally tempted to buy my own lomographic camera and of course, the ever-awesome/timeless Polaroid, but nothing beats holding a plain camera and capturing a moment as it truly is. While I admire amazing photographs enhanced with a bit of distortion (such as vignetting through Polaroid or enhancement through Lightroom/Photoshop), I am truly awed by amazing pictures taken with just a camera, making use of its different settings, and the lighting that is available. For my purposes, since I have yet to master my SLR, the more important thing for me now, is to capture something as close to how it is in real life.
So while literally seeing the world through rose-tinted lenses is an attractive option, I find that there is nothing more beautiful than seeing the world through our own natural lenses, with nothing added, and nothing taken away.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Airports
Airports.
I can’t decide if I love them or I hate them.
Every time I set foot in an airport, I have always been compelled to write about this amazing place as an attempt to sort out all my feelings about it.
For one thing, the airport excites me because it is a portal of adventure. I never mind going through all the necessary tedious processes of checking your bags in and going through immigration (which always scares me!) because there is an atmosphere of adventure, of many things that are waiting to happen. The last time I closed my eyes to go to sleep was within comforts of my room, but I know that come the next night, I would close the curtains and my eyes to a completely new scene.
Airports connect many places in the world (which are seemingly worlds apart), making the place we live in smaller than ever. They give you a chance to see beyond what you know, allowing you to expand your perspectives, as well as the borders of your imagination. They are starting points to where you can connect with other ways of living and with complete strangers you never thought you would meet. More importantly, airports allow you to see your loved ones, wherever they may be, giving you a chance to experience ‘home,’ not because you are in a place that you grew up in, but because you are with the people you have always grown to love.
On the other hand, airports have always been privy to one too many goodbyes. I cannot deny that a place such as this, which brings me much excitement, also brings me great sadness. It is a place of many goodbyes; it is a place of detachment. It tells us that we can never have too strong a grip on the things we like and the people we love, teaching us not to take possession and control of the things that make us happy but to appreciate them as they come and go.
Given all these, I can only think that airports are emotionally charged. If one day emotions could be a source of energy, then airports could be powerhouses that can supply us a lifetime of it. Whether airports make you sad or happy, they will forever be dynamic, bustling with activity and commotion. They will be there to present to us both ends of the spectrum of life- happiness and sadness, the familiar and the strange. There is always someone leaving, and always someone coming home.
I can’t decide if I love them or I hate them.
Every time I set foot in an airport, I have always been compelled to write about this amazing place as an attempt to sort out all my feelings about it.
For one thing, the airport excites me because it is a portal of adventure. I never mind going through all the necessary tedious processes of checking your bags in and going through immigration (which always scares me!) because there is an atmosphere of adventure, of many things that are waiting to happen. The last time I closed my eyes to go to sleep was within comforts of my room, but I know that come the next night, I would close the curtains and my eyes to a completely new scene.
Airports connect many places in the world (which are seemingly worlds apart), making the place we live in smaller than ever. They give you a chance to see beyond what you know, allowing you to expand your perspectives, as well as the borders of your imagination. They are starting points to where you can connect with other ways of living and with complete strangers you never thought you would meet. More importantly, airports allow you to see your loved ones, wherever they may be, giving you a chance to experience ‘home,’ not because you are in a place that you grew up in, but because you are with the people you have always grown to love.
On the other hand, airports have always been privy to one too many goodbyes. I cannot deny that a place such as this, which brings me much excitement, also brings me great sadness. It is a place of many goodbyes; it is a place of detachment. It tells us that we can never have too strong a grip on the things we like and the people we love, teaching us not to take possession and control of the things that make us happy but to appreciate them as they come and go.
Given all these, I can only think that airports are emotionally charged. If one day emotions could be a source of energy, then airports could be powerhouses that can supply us a lifetime of it. Whether airports make you sad or happy, they will forever be dynamic, bustling with activity and commotion. They will be there to present to us both ends of the spectrum of life- happiness and sadness, the familiar and the strange. There is always someone leaving, and always someone coming home.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Entropy
If the world was invaded by zombies right now, the only perfect safe haven I can think of is Martha Stewart’s studio. I am not kidding. My mom and I were watching Martha Stewart just minutes ago and I have to say, 25 minutes into her “Organizing Special” episode and I totally went craaazy. She has tips on almost every imaginable thing in the world! From storing extra earring backs (you know, the part of the earring that locks from the back- I mean who would actually keep stocks of those?), to a dozen eggbeaters, to an accordion envelope for your sand paper- it totally cracked me up.
The show had a way to organize everything (duh, hence the ‘organizing special’), even memories. There were tips on how to make your pictures last forever, and how to document all your trips and vacations. But when we think about it, who would actually spend all his time doing these things? Face it, we’re human beings that lead finite lives and we’re not going to be able to hold on to all these things forever. Sure, as self-absorbed and purpose-driven beings that take pride in the supremacy of our accomplishments, it is a natural desire to leave one’s legacy by means of these mementos. But we can only hold on to so much, and in the end, we will leave all these things behind.
Going back, the main reason I have for saying that Martha Stewart’s studio would be the perfect zombie sanctuary is that it keeps tons of stock of every imaginable thing in the planet. If I were Brendan Fraser in Blast from the Past, and got stuck in a bomb shelter that resembles this studio, I would have enough stocks for food, color-coded towels, picket fences, paper flowers, fancy buttons (with labels indicating which outfit the button was for) and I can make a whole scrapbook detailing my entire life in the bomb shelter while I’m at it.
I have no personal anger against the show, but I find it so hilarious that the episode focuses on the tiniest details that a normal, sane person would never actually do. It’s not realistic! It basically goes against the laws of entropy in this world. Being way too organized and compartmentalized is just not normal. We need space to let loose, and possibly lose things so we can find them again. A perfect world is static and lifeless. On the other hand, the beauty of nature and real life is that it is erratic, and changeable.
Sometimes, we just need a little bit of chaos in this world.
The show had a way to organize everything (duh, hence the ‘organizing special’), even memories. There were tips on how to make your pictures last forever, and how to document all your trips and vacations. But when we think about it, who would actually spend all his time doing these things? Face it, we’re human beings that lead finite lives and we’re not going to be able to hold on to all these things forever. Sure, as self-absorbed and purpose-driven beings that take pride in the supremacy of our accomplishments, it is a natural desire to leave one’s legacy by means of these mementos. But we can only hold on to so much, and in the end, we will leave all these things behind.
Going back, the main reason I have for saying that Martha Stewart’s studio would be the perfect zombie sanctuary is that it keeps tons of stock of every imaginable thing in the planet. If I were Brendan Fraser in Blast from the Past, and got stuck in a bomb shelter that resembles this studio, I would have enough stocks for food, color-coded towels, picket fences, paper flowers, fancy buttons (with labels indicating which outfit the button was for) and I can make a whole scrapbook detailing my entire life in the bomb shelter while I’m at it.
I have no personal anger against the show, but I find it so hilarious that the episode focuses on the tiniest details that a normal, sane person would never actually do. It’s not realistic! It basically goes against the laws of entropy in this world. Being way too organized and compartmentalized is just not normal. We need space to let loose, and possibly lose things so we can find them again. A perfect world is static and lifeless. On the other hand, the beauty of nature and real life is that it is erratic, and changeable.
Sometimes, we just need a little bit of chaos in this world.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
On an Appreciation and Tolerance for Art and Fashion
Art, being a creation molded in a specific context and frame of mind, is very personal and individualistic; but at the same time, being under this massive umbrella we call life, no matter how personal it can be, it can speak to thousands of people in many ways. This is why I enjoy looking at art-in museums, in books, in film. Without even ever knowing who the artist is, a piece of art can evoke emotions in me and connect with me in a special way. I grow fond of art pieces without really finding a logical explanation to them, except that it makes me feel something. For instance, my favorite painting is that of Van Gogh’s Bedroom in Arles. Every time I see it, it gives me such a “home-y” feeling that I just want to be in it. Nothing really impressive in the explanation there. I enjoy Piet Mondrian’s Composition of Red, Black, Blue and Yellow, without really knowing the exact reason why- I just do.
I am not an art expert. I am not aware of the various elements that make up such pieces of art, nor am I well versed in art history. While I would like to know more about those things as I believe these will further heighten and enrich my appreciation of the arts, I am but a simple admirer. That being said, I know what I like and I know what I don’t. When I go to museums, you would not find me as one filled with oohs and aahs about everything. With regard to art, I have a certain degree of tolerance, no matter how open I may want to be. I still find myself muttering, “WTF” when faced with what seems to be doodles on scratch paper, glorified for everyone to see. But who am I to complain? In this way, I really believe Andy Warhol when he says, “art is what you can get away with.” If this person considers his creation as art, then it is. Which makes me think, where do you draw the line between art and just plain bullshit? For me, something can be considered genuine art when it has meaning attached to it.
When it comes to fashion, I cannot be as open as I am with other forms of art. Fashion is intimately intertwined with the human body, and thus I cannot avoid appreciating it with respect to the body and how it makes the body look and feel. For instance, I can’t appreciate something that makes the body look like an overgrown tomato- it just doesn’t feel right. It’s hard for me to appreciate designs that just have like these misplaced holes in the abdomen. Where’s the thought process in that? What I do appreciate are designs that seem to understand the contour and composition of the human body, are well thought of and cleanly executed. However, since fashion is an innovative field, no matter how crisp and clean the design is, staying in the safe side will also not do. I guess this is what makes fashion tough- you try to expand the bounds of your creativity, wrap it around the human body in such a way that you will not make it look like your lola’s tablecloth, a giant peacock or an overgrown sponge with millions of holes in the wrong places.
Whether it is painting, literature or fashion that we are looking at, it all boils down to one thing: art is a slice of life that can be shared with everyone. Though once in a while I will encounter pieces which I will never know if it is genuine or just plain bull, the entire journey of seeing flashes of people’s creations, is a vicarious experience that is very much worthwhile.
I am not an art expert. I am not aware of the various elements that make up such pieces of art, nor am I well versed in art history. While I would like to know more about those things as I believe these will further heighten and enrich my appreciation of the arts, I am but a simple admirer. That being said, I know what I like and I know what I don’t. When I go to museums, you would not find me as one filled with oohs and aahs about everything. With regard to art, I have a certain degree of tolerance, no matter how open I may want to be. I still find myself muttering, “WTF” when faced with what seems to be doodles on scratch paper, glorified for everyone to see. But who am I to complain? In this way, I really believe Andy Warhol when he says, “art is what you can get away with.” If this person considers his creation as art, then it is. Which makes me think, where do you draw the line between art and just plain bullshit? For me, something can be considered genuine art when it has meaning attached to it.
When it comes to fashion, I cannot be as open as I am with other forms of art. Fashion is intimately intertwined with the human body, and thus I cannot avoid appreciating it with respect to the body and how it makes the body look and feel. For instance, I can’t appreciate something that makes the body look like an overgrown tomato- it just doesn’t feel right. It’s hard for me to appreciate designs that just have like these misplaced holes in the abdomen. Where’s the thought process in that? What I do appreciate are designs that seem to understand the contour and composition of the human body, are well thought of and cleanly executed. However, since fashion is an innovative field, no matter how crisp and clean the design is, staying in the safe side will also not do. I guess this is what makes fashion tough- you try to expand the bounds of your creativity, wrap it around the human body in such a way that you will not make it look like your lola’s tablecloth, a giant peacock or an overgrown sponge with millions of holes in the wrong places.
Whether it is painting, literature or fashion that we are looking at, it all boils down to one thing: art is a slice of life that can be shared with everyone. Though once in a while I will encounter pieces which I will never know if it is genuine or just plain bull, the entire journey of seeing flashes of people’s creations, is a vicarious experience that is very much worthwhile.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)