I don’t update this blog anymore. I have not since last year. That’s because I’ve moved to a better site. Please check out:
http://www.michaelmata.blogspot.com/
My friendster blog is a relic of history, please stop reading it like its my current blog.
I dream of the desert
A dry lake
And me the withered tree, decorated with stars
bent over and desperate for
water
I dream of the ocean,
a tumultous glass body
and you: a woman in a paper dress
arched above me like the vault of the sky:
a mirror of my enigma
My pure, turbulent longing
for you, for me:
for the mountain of rapture in
the distance
I dream of him (in me)
who never sleeps
a warrior in my mind:
a nomad, a vagabond,
someone broken (like me)
like the caves of long ago..
In him is a compass
spun out of control
nothing guides him,
the way nothing guides me
the way illusions imprison him:
they also imprison me:
we are both victims
inside of us is a dream
that will never
come to pass:
we are both fertiles worlds forever
made deserts.
I watch petals fall
from dying flowers,
I watch my cat yawn
and stretch
I watch traffic
and vendors clamouring
on my verandah
I watch the mail man
leave my neighbour letters
(secrets and shame)
I watch rain fall on
cloudy days,
I allow my hands to feel the sting
I never watch television,
I don’t want artifice
I want to examine life instead
I long for it,
it is beautiful.
The hovering orbs are fathers
The moon is a woman of course
These bodies no longer govern destinies:
they have been reduced to people
My hands are dried branches
going up and down the
shadowed mountains
I am amorphous,
Without meaning
Underneath a cloak of stars
You are a lone fugitive walking beneath,
a ronin, an artist
You are gazing at the nuances of the earth
You navigate the desert floor
as cold as a plate
as profound and majestic
as a mirror in a dry lake:
beguiling you to question yourself,
to examine the cracks and abrasions
the pale beauty underneath
to discover who you really are
and what you are capable of.
My hands are open:
freedom -destiny in the midst of fear,
there are horses in the distance,
dust
dust
their hooves thunder.
It’s been a long time since I’ve updated my blog. A lot of things have been happening in my life..while there’s never a dull moment, at the end of the day I’m often left asking myself ‘Why is life so unfulfiling?’. I’m still trying to find peace in myself. I read the Bible and I’m told that peace can only be found in God. I genuinley belive that..but my relationship with God is difficult to explain. I have so many emotional and psychological issues that are hindering me from achieving the spiritual intimacy I desire. I hope God refines me soon, because I am such a mess inside. I want I to have a pure, loving relationship with him.
Anyways, bittersweet introspection aside, here is a list of July’s higlights:
a) Faye and all the goons form the PM shift came over to my house after work. Princess also stayed in my house for a few days. Can’t really say it was a comfortable experience. Please don’t get me wrong…Princess is a wonderful person. It’s just that, well, I’m sort of extremely private , so having someone I’m not particularly close to share intimate space with kinda made me feel less than relaxed. Anways, back to the get together: well, there were so many of us that people were unable to find chairs. We all talked and shared junk food. Skippy had a good time harrasing everyone. God I love that dogggie so much. She’s a great PR rep. Faye, Ivy and the rest were busy talking about people whom weren’t there (I kinda joined in too). God forgive me for gossiping. I learnt a lot though: about all the political intrigue in the office, who respected whom and who disliked whom. Very revealing.
b) We had our team bulding in Antipolo. We had to be in the office at 6 am sharp. I was so excited I could not sleep the night before. I went online instead. Who needs sleep anyway? When I came to the office Rommel was already there. I said hello and went online. I filled in a weird bulletin on Friendster and had coffee, courtesy of Chat (by the way- I just found out that Chat used to be a Team Leader…than she left and now she’s back- go figure!) By seven the people who were coming were all there (less than half of the PM shift). There was a jeep waiting for us outside. I wasn’t exactly thrilled to be riding a hard, medieval jeep all the way to Antipolo on that bright, hot and sunny day (I had pictured an air-conditioned bus in my mind), but seeing that I was powerless to do anything I kept quite. Lacking sleep, I tried to snooze on the jeep, but the noise, motion and heat prevented me from losing consciouness. Geri snapped a photo of me with her cam (I looked like a corpse). She said that drool was running down the left side of my face. Very elegant. I noticed later that in the photo, my eyes were half- open..my mother always told me that I’ve slept with my eyes open ever since I was a child. I’d forgotten that. Looking at that photo reminded me of my nasty habit.
The waterpark we went to was scenic but crowded. Of course, people were singing off key to karoke tunes. The heat was oppressive. While everyone was in beach ware, I was in a long sleeved shirt. We had lunch and relaxed in our ‘hut’.
In the changing room I left my new sun glasses behind (the cool David Beckham shades I bought in Carbon). Those shades were really expensive. Twenty minutes later, I realized my mistake and went back to the changing room in panic. I honestly did not expect to find it still there. And I didn’t. I was in such a funk for a couple of hours after that incident.
The rest of the day was spent swimming, playing games, taking lots of photos and singing karoke. We had such a fun time. If no one believes me they can check out my team bulding photos on my friendster, also check out Jeanne’s page. We all shared a special, care-free moment that day. I treasure days like that in my heart.
PS: I got to bond with Geri on our team building. We resolved our differences and clarified all our issues. Geri is the buddy I was moaning about in my previous entry. Now, everytime I run into her in the elevator, we say hello to each other.
3) I resinged from ILDAEIL in June. I bought a pizza for everyone on my last day. The goons bought me a leopard toy dotted with pink spots as a going away present. I said goodbye to all my students and hugged everyone in the office good bye. After work, we all went to Shakeys (we spent the money we earned as the winners of the Best Team award…go Team Brewster. I also received a certificate for giving the best presentation for our team activities. My presentation was entitled ‘Little known Facts about America’). We ate aton of pizzas and fried chicken in Shakey’s.
I’m really going to miss those guys. I carry a lot of happy memories from my months spent in ILDAEIL. I had interesting students (Seong Ryeol I’m going to miss you!) I may not have gotten along well with everyone and in the begnning was very misunderstood, but I made some real friends and learned many new skills.
Life might not be perfect yet, but at least there are beautiful moments. Though I’ve learnt there is rarely a perfectly happy moment, you can laugh and celebrate life while you cry.
Somewhere in the emptiness
of an cold room within yourself;
you confront your image:
the broken joke everyone can
ridicule with cruelty
but to you the joke is a sour fruit,
bitter to the taste.
Little by little
what is meaningless
is stripped away:
when the light box falls
apart, what’s left is shadows,
and the dead leaves of autumn.
In the barren cavern of truth
you are distilled into mercury.
A painting with no subject, a rocking horse
with no rider,
so you are….
Endless night of the spirit,
rotting wood!
A quiet, tuneless melody spins from your heart like
a thread,
weaving a black tafetta gown with crimson trims:
a metaphor.
I came across Robert Greene’s blog last week.
To those who’ve been residing under a celestial rock for the past three years, Robert Greene is an American writer whose written several best- selling books on startegy, seduction and warfare. Three diverese subjects no doubt, but topics all too painfully relevant in the early twenty first century. Anyways his highly acclaimed books are ‘The Art of Seduction’, ‘The 48 Laws of Power’ and ‘How to Declare War’. They’re considered fashionable reading in many elite circles -not only in business but even in the world of hip- hop music where these books are treated as gospel.
Well, his marvelous books aside, Robert Greene interests me personally: he has the good looks of a Hollywood actor (at least on the black and white photo on the book jacket) and writes from a hypnotic, know-it-all perspective. In the ‘48 Laws of Power’ and The ‘Art of Seduction’ he retold many historical anecdotes and gave chillingly detailed elucidations on timeless human psychology. He sounds like a very wise man. And despite all his gathered wisdom (which I assumed could only be acquired if one has lived for at least several hundred years), he’s still only in his early fourties. He’s really sexy too, in a geeky, white trash sort of way.
I left this really gruesome comment on his blog, which I’ll reproduce uncensored, plain-as-day in this blog entry. I hope no one squeals, vomits, laughs derisively or go ‘ah-ha!’. In other words, keep your pathetic judgements to yourselves. None are welcome. ^_^
*****
I am absoulutely honored to be able to write this comment. I sincerely hope that some sympathetic human being might read it. (Oh yeah..and I hope that Robert Greene might read it too.)
I’m just a lonely, confused 23 year old Filipino boy suffering from personal issues: I wonder about my place in the world. What I am supposed to do with my life etc,(I am classified as the ‘natural’ in the Art of Seduction archtypes).
Then I came across your books and I experienced a sort of ephipany: nobody writes like Robert Greene. He has a perculiar perspective and he approaches issues in an innovative manner. And he sounds like such a no-it-all.
I loved the art of seduction. My senses tingled while reading about the exploits of great seducers and seductresses. I also loved the 48 laws of power: I managed to apply a lot of his analysis to my own personal history. Through Robert Greene I came to understand the reason behind my father’s bullying. I also like the theory of the hidden personality: how the concealed areas in a person’s psyche can cause others to misjudge you. Oh yeah, and it also helped me understand why my father often made all these terrible erroneous conclusions about me. Surprise! It was because he could’nt read me like an open book.
Robert, I am very young and naive. But I am learning about life. If you have eyes that ever read the comments posted on this blog than please read mine. It sets my (ahem) on fire to think that you may be reading this one day. I have an e mail address. If you want a mediocre specimen of humanity to study and evaluate, here is willing game.
There are things I want to ask you personally: like why you’re writing makes you sound like an agnostic…….and how come your values don’t align with good ol’ fashion midwestern/ Christian values?
Robert, you should read the new testament. I know that the epistles says a lot of weird things about sinners, women and homosexuals but it preaches a high degree of moral good. A polarized version of righteousness perhaps but still…don’t you find amorality morally repulsive?
Please visit my friendster blog: just type my old e mail: walking_on_broken_stones@hotmail.com in the you-know-where. You’re a big boy. I know you know what I’m talking about. Please e mail me to say ‘hi’ because I’ve already techically said ‘hi’ to you. You’re a GREAT man. A blonde sage from planet wisdom.
Oh…and in the dust jackets you looked so handsome. And then I saw those photos in your blog of your trip to Russia and you looked like a total nerd in your glasses and unfashionable attire. Why don’t you follow your own advice and dress to intoxicate your public?
I really admire you and just want you to say ‘hi’. Please. Mico
****
Well, I don’t think Mr. Greene condescended by checking my lovely friendster profile or even this blog. I’m not a remarkable person. I’m as ordinary and mediocre as can be…but I was hoping, PRAYING that someone whom I’ve admired for so long, whom I felt possessed all this wisdom and insight could finally look into me and see something special. Pathetic.
Commes Des Garcons is a current obssession.
I don’t really know what propelled me to write these things down. I suppose a part of myself will always want to keep a record of the things I feel passionate about. Keeping track of obssessions (and elucidating them online for the entire world to appreciate) sounds suspiciously like another platform for egocentricsm. In a sense, I am no longer reflecting on the artistic production of other people. I’m actually writing about the things that give me the most pleasure: symbols I have taken into my being, warped and modifid into an extension of myself. Anyways, personal neurosis aside, here is an account of things that help to define my current conscious experience:
Rei Kawabuko of Commes de Garcons
A rebel and an eccentic, Rei Kawabuko is an eigma in modern fashion: she never discloses the intentions behind her designs but allows her work to speak for itself. She revolutionized fashion in the eighties when her scary, assymetrical black clothing that was the complete antithesis to the frivolous, sequined couture of that era. Kawabuko is also reclusive and shies away from publicity. Her interviews often leave admirers and critics with more question than answers. But hers is a unique achievement: she has managed to create a company that has made millions, selling highly conceptual pieces of clothing that critics warned her no one would wear. Kawabuko is above trends and the fickle capers of the fashion public. On the downside, she has been accused of being polemic (accusations range from anti- Semitism to being reticent to generate publicity). But Kawabuko remains unperturbed. She is the founder and head designer of Comme des Garcons (which means ‘one of the boys’ in French). Her clothes are highly conceptual (othes say impractical) pieces of avante garde art: cloth sculptures you can wear. She has a fondness for drab colors like monochrome black, white and grey. Her niche market unsuprisingly is other like minded ceative types: men and women who work in architecture and design.
If I had the money, I’d wear Commes de Gracons too.
I remember when I was living in Kuala Lumpur, a progressive men’s boutique called ‘Philosophy’ used to stock samples of her designs. One particular long sleeved shirt caught my eye: a black number with slashes of silver kimono patterns sliced into the sides. It was a highly unusual shirt, seemingly designed to make the wearer look unattractive or even mentally unstable but I feel in love with it. Unfortunatelty, I did not fall in love wit the the price: it was about 1000 ringgit, roughly 10,000 pesos in pre-2000. Even when they went on sale, I still could not afford the buy that shirt (which was now retailing for 800 ringgit or 8000 pesos). Nevertheless, I still ponder that shirt: it haunts my dreams. I hope to someday buy that shirt or something like it from Commes de Gracons. I am smitten and I just can’t help it.
PS: Did you know that early Comme des Garcons designs were so strangely unfamiliar that they came with instructions showing the proper way to wear them? Oh, and one of my favorite designs comes from a cicra 1996 collection: models were sent down the catwalk wearing white or grey shrouds with stuffing added to strategic areas, making the wearers look like sub humans with lumps protruding from various pats of their anatomy. Those designs drew a fair amount of praise and ridicule. But it just goes to show that no one can pull a stunt like that save Rei Kawabuko.
PART 1
Finally it’s the weekend.
Boy did I have an interesting week.Firstly, we had a sort of ‘christening’ in the office. Being my usual, oblivious self, I’m not really sure what we were celebrating or even why, but as far as I can gather, the PM shift (which happens to be the shift I’m in…duh!) has been renamed Team Washington. The AM shift is now called Team Hawaii. Both teams are expected to come up with a sort of dance and chant with allusions and puns related to their team’s new name. It’s been kind of fun. Our free time for the past two weeks has been occupiedwith masterminding cheers and dance steps for our presentation (so high school but boy does it bring out the raving youth in you). We laugh and joke a lot during practice. But the sad part is:
a) none of us can dance
b) none of us are paticularly creative
We practised last night for like two hours after our shift. But our presentation is going to be so lame. I just know it: our chant sucks and our dance moves are retard worthy. Oh yeah, and the AM shift (Team Hawaii now) did this really cool Hawaian themed dance, complete with a drum and hula dancing in grass skirts. They were pounding and jiving all over the room and looked pretty cool (the unmagnannimous side of me simmering in resentment ofcourse). They seemed really natural, like real natives in a Hawaiian island in the Pacific. All that was missing was a Tiki statue and a human sacrifice.
Anyways we had a fun week.
Chris (my wannabe supermodel seat mate of Spanish descent) has been busy decorating the entire office with lurid colored papers and confetti. I can’t really say he’s done a VERY good job ,but the office now looks a lot less drab. Less sarcophagus-like in a way. Our presentation is next week. I hope it will be good. Not as good as the raving AM islanders, but at least not disastrous.
PART 2
My students have been decreasing. I don’t know whether this should worry me really, but I hope it’s not because the Korean Administration considers me to be a bad teacher. I’m a GOOD teacher. And I’m getting better everyday too. I’m finally able to teach Vitamin En properly to all my thick headed Shinhan executives (for those not in the know…Vitamin En is the beloved text book used by the employees of Shinhan Bank). My Shinhan students are really nice and they seem to like me. I hope they remember what I teach them after class though. ‘Apply what you learn’ is the subliminal mantra I seer into their heads in every class. Oh, and I have this student named Shirley (not her real name). She’s twenty- two but still living with her parents. She’s currently on a hiatus from a degree in English Literature. Basically, she’s been spending the past year bumming around: drinking with her friends, watching movies and going online. But she’s like twenty- two. Come on. I know I wasn’t placed on earth to tell other people how to live their lives, but isn’t it time she did herself a favor (her parents included) by moving towards a greater degree of independence by doing something innovative like (gasp!) taking a job? She ought to be doing something more constructive with her free time…. I really like her though (she may actually be reading this…..she knows my friendster URL). She’s smart and kind and may be leaving for New Yok to study English next month (see, she’s actually doing something constructive with her free time after all…I’m sorry about my earlier denouncement). But being Korean, and this being post- Viginia Tech massacre season, her family has strongly cautioned her against going there. I do too. I pray she’ll make the right decision and come back to class. Ahhhhh!
PART 3
Confession time.
You know, my life is not a bed of roses. I know many are oblivious and don’t have a clue to my emotional turmoil. People are great actors aren’t they? They laugh and sit in font of their computers, working like androids…not giving the world any indication to the anger or despair they may be wrestling with in their hearts and minds. At least that’s how I assume people perceive me. They don’t realize how angry and confused I feel. How haunted I am by my past mistakes or how dissatisfied I truly feel over the way my life has turned out. I’m a broken toy. Hurt and bruised by myriad dissapointments. A disillusioned dreamer, that’s me. I feel really alone and this angers me. To any family or friends reading this, I hope this does not come as a shock. I’m lonely and frustrated because I’m always distancing myself from people because I’m afraid of being hurt. I’m suffering because of it. I’m a fool really, trapped in my own self-imposed prison. Led astray by the lies I’ve been feeding myself. My heart feels broken. Empty, scarred and wounded. My mind is a battle field of torment. I know I’m not crazy…but people can see and sense the disturbance in my mind and that shames me. I know I’m not crazy. Twisted maybe, but not crazy. I mean…I can function in nomal society.
But what really frustrates me is the fact that I can’t even be honest or open about what I truly feel. I’m an enigma to people because I keep so much of myself locked away. My heart is a wilderness, incapable of giving or receiving love. I’ve always wondered (for a long time anyway) why I can’t appear to accept, receive or appreciate love (but I’m so good at haboring and brooding over resentment). The wrongs (real or imagined) I feel people have done against me, live in my mind while I can’t respond to love for long. I can’t process it. This confession makes me feel like a cold monster. I know that’s not who I really am. But then again, who am I really? I’m a broken toy. A child whose lost his innocence. A person wandering the desert alone. Tormented by delusions and driven by nothing.
I want to start off today’s entry by recounting two dreams I recently had:
DREAM 1:
I was with Timbaland and TI. I don’t want to go into detail about what that dream involved but I found it very shocking. You know how Sigmund Frued said that dreams reveal our suppressed obssessions? Well, this dream sort of unveiled that.
DREAM 2:
I was in a waterpark with a Christian American couple and we were having fun…when I realized it was a week day and I’d forgotten to call the office and tell everyone I wanted to take take the day off. I was panicking and the American couple volunteered to drive me home or something and all of a sudden we were running up and down these twisting water slides (like the ones they have in the park, duh!). Along one of the bends I saw my old classmates from high school playing basketball. And then, as were ascending a particularly crazy loop I suddenly realized that I was dreaming and I should wake up. The weird part was, before I woke up, I was fully aware that it was a dream and that I’d never gone on AWOl before.
It sort of makes you wonder dosen’t it: why are dreams so illogical that recounting the details often end up embarrasing the person who dreamnt them? Nothing in dream symbolism seems to make much sense, it’s like a very randomly juxtaposed series of images or expreriences. I find it hard to fathom.
Anyways, I’m becoming interested in the language of dreams and it’s possible meanings: are certain dreams meant to warn us of a danger, or a unresolved conflict? Or ( and this interests me the most) are dreams mainly a releasing of our most suppressed fears and desires, like Sigmund Freud claimed?
To find out more, I’m planning to read more books on the psychological aspect of dreams, especially ‘The Interpretation of Dreams’.
To be fair, I don’t remember most of my dreams. Ninety nine percent of my dreams are garbage: meaningless, illogical babble that probably does not warrant much attention.
I have funny dreams and never have nightmares (almost never anways), though occasionally I have frightening dreams, thought they are very rare. The most common ‘upsetting’ dreams I have involve the realisation of an unacknowledged fear: like fear of being late for work, or fear or a dreaded occurence happening again. I remember after I finished high school, I’d have these dreams that I had to repeat my ‘O’ Levels because something happened to the original papers we sat for. I remember the horror I expreienced in that scenario. My heart pounded with the stress. The funny part is (I remember this distinctly) I was also expected to sit for a general science paper for the second exam (General Science is not offered under ‘O’ Levels). I was a pure arts student in senior year FIY.
Why the sudden obssession with dreams? Maybe it’s because I’m trying to figure out who I really am. Though I feel like I understand myself well, at the same time I feel like I don’t understand myself at all: I want to know who I really am. What I am capable of. What my limits are. What my strengths and hitherto undiscovered gifts are. I loved reading books like Robert Greene’s ‘48 Laws of Power’ and ‘The Art of Seduction’ not only for their intruiging historical anecdotes, but also for their insight into human nature and psychology. I learnt a lot from those two book, but perhaps not enough. One of the key points I understood from those books was the theory of the hidden personality: a part of our personality is hidden from other people. It’s a conscious decison we make ourselves. It prevents people from judging us or comprehensing who we really are, or what we are really capable of. The hidden personality is called ‘the ultimate unknowabelness of people’ or something like that. Rather profound. I know from experience that it is really true. Some people made some silly assumptions about me based on their own prejudices. It turned out to be so completely untrue. They were people so confident in their own judgement, they pronounced a verdict largely based on incomplete information. You see, I hid that part of myself, so they did not understand my stance regarding this particular matter (forgive me for being obtuse but I must protect my secrets).
Yes I have a lot of secrets. Perhaps too many. Maybe it’s foolish of me to hide what might end up saving me from myself.
