I lost my focus. Now what?

Work can be monotonous. 

To escape its deathly grip, I took a peek at my Facebook account. Yes, I still have and use my FB from time to time, despite my disdain for it. 

Someone asked me whether I experience moments when I want to stop and start everything from scratch.

My answer is simple. Yes. A big fat yes. 

One day, I find myself happily writing, wanting the experience to last forever. Sadly, it doesn't. The moment I wake up a few days later, I find myself moody and a changed person.

It's the kind of experience that insidiously creeps and catches you off guard. 

I, however, accept that this is part of the rhythm of life.

Life has a series of ups and downs. 

Have you seen the performance of the Philippine Stock Market?

It's depressing to see a correction, and exhilarating to see it climb!

A lack of focus, is like that ugly correction in the stock exchange. 

It’s depressing. It’s frustrating.

It makes me want to forget my dream of a great physique and binge on a creamy, delicious and mouth-watering chocolate ice cream. It makes me want to forget, and pray that everything will be alright.

The situation will get better, I tell myself.

Just… live.

Depending on your perspective, to live is either a blessing or a curse.

Once our mother has expelled us from their womb, we’re expected to course through life with an indefinite number of years. Indefinite, because we have no idea how our life, or how the candle of life will run out.

Nothing is permanent, and so is focus. 

Likewise, it’s good to know that this moment of sadness… this lack of clarity, is also not permanent.

The flow and ebb of the waves by the shore reminds me that this is part of life, and that my worrying is also normal.

The best next thing I can do is to try to calm myself down, and make a decision when my irrationality doesn't cloud my mind. 

My best therapy is writing. It is my territory. 

One of the lessons I learned in life is to identify what’s territorial act--- something you will do even if you're the last person on Earth. 

Writing is the act to pause, think and reflect.... to cry out my fears and pain. To convey what I feel is wrong.

I expect no reply. An inanimate object cannot tell you what must be done, but this notebook can tell you what’s occupying your head, and with its infinite silence, helps you to probe; think deeper, to search for solution, to listen.

The turbulence seas of life is a fact. Nothing stays or lasts forever.

My only saving grace is to cope with life.  

This thing called "Body Relativity"

We are all born with a particular weakness, and in my case, it's a two-word thing called "Color Theory".

Despite being involved with the visual art scene in my youth, color is a concept I continue to struggle. Luckily, with the help of several blogs and persistent, I was able to scratch beyond the surface to understand it.

Now, you may be wondering why I'm babbling about colors, where in fact, my topic is all about Body Relativity. 

The gist of color relativity is simple- context affects how color is perceived. 

Body relativity is an idea I coined-The environment affects how a person's body is perceived. 

Environment does not restrict itself to the physical environment, but also includes people; their biases; and how they perceive a person's body should be. 

Now, again, you must be wondering why I'm babbling about body relativity. 

It's simple. 

The other night, a friend complimented how good I looked. Several days later, another friend wondered what happened to my body (and based on how I interpreted her body language and the statement... she was shocked how my body had changed and asked if I got married... i got a negative vibe from her). 

It suddenly clicked to me that everyone has their own notion of what my ideal body should be. And that notion is what matters. 

If the present appearance doesn't conform to their notion, they will willingly voice it for me. If the present appearance does conform, they do not tell me anything at all. 

It's meaningless to continuously meet another's notion of you. We meet thousands of people in our lifetime and it is tiring to conform to a thousand of expectations. 

The joy of walking

I hate traffic. What I hate more is being trapped inside a crammed jeepney vehicle while waiting for the traffic to flow.

If I just wore rubber shoes, I'd walk home.

Well, I'm wearing ballet flats right now. I think I can walk!

On September 6, I spent a productive one hour walk home.

A one hour walk is better than being stuck in traffix for 45 minutes.

It just feels... good for the body.

Cesar Millan once said that walking is vital for dogs. Why can't it be vital for humans too?

Writers block

Oh no.

Just the other day, I was happily praising how the words flowed through my mind as I write a story.

Today's a different case.

It's a struggle compounded by "I need to write this perfectly".

Oh, what do I do with you.... writer's block

Hey, I can actually write!

The series that prompted me to start writing fanfictions wad Harvest Moon: Back to Nature.

I was 8 years old back then, and I was really embarrassed when my teacher read it.

How could I be not? It was a horror story where the Town pastor, Carter, had a horde of zombies buried underneath the catacombs and graves of his church.

It only shows that at a young age, I was into macabre and gothic fiction.

My passion fo fanfics rekindled when I was 12. I discovered a bunch of Wild Arms 2 fanfictions which I absolutely loved. The sad thing is that I can no longer find the fics online :(

That prompted me to pen my own stories. Actually, I've been penning stories as early as I can remember. I've dabbled in comics, and that's a marriage between visual art and story writing.

The first time I penned an original story was a vampire romance. I was 14 and I wrote it on a pink precious moments notebook.

That story and notebook are eternally burned in my mind because my ex-bestfriend, Valerie, managed to discover and read it. To my immense horror, she actually asked me what was going to happen next!

Those were good times.

There were stories I penned with my mon's Windows 95 PC, and I printed a bunch of them. Once, I accidentally discovered one in a heap of papers. I just read it and I was blown away. Why didn't I finish it?

I have a handful of stories scattered around the house, and I am really suprised when I see one again.

Hey, I can actually write!

Last Februrary, I wrote a story called Your Eyes on Me, and I reread the early chapters I wrote.

Hey, I can actually write! 

I'm waiting for another year before I read my second fic again... but hey, I'm curious to what my reaction will be.

Facebook is emotionally draining

There's so much hate and bashing on Facebook, that it hurts to scroll the News Feed.

I love my city, and I think that it's best for my mental and emotional health to stay away from reading trolls comments, or people who bash my city for what's it going through.

I infrequently use my FB account these days. I usually spend 3-5 minutes scrolling through the feed before closing it down. Yet on September 3, I actually burned almost 3-5 hours on Facebook, reading updates on the Davao Bombing Incident.

Most of my friends are nurses who are employed at the different hospitals that responded to the disaster. It was inspiring to read their testimonials on how they gave their effort to save the lives of the injured.

.....and it can be emotionally taxing. 

Not that it's a negative thing, but I've known for a long time that I'm a highly sensitive person. I absorb people's emotions. An Empath, for short.

There is so much drama on Facebook right now that it's draining me, so the best option is to abandon it for now.

Your love, my undoing

Hooray!

I finally finished my second fanfiction, Your love, my undoing, for this year!

The first fanfic I wrote and finished is also online, His Eyes on Me. Both stories are Final Fantasy 8 fanfictions.

Truth it, it feels awkward to post it here in my blog. It's a romance, and I'm still trying to link in my head that I actually wrote a romance fic.

Oh well... 2016 is a year to stretch myself: writing , posting it online and finishing a story is actually a way to stretch myself.

This calls for a mini-celebration!

I need a nice movie to watch... like Train To Busan. I guess I'll watch once the situation in the city has calmed down.