We live on a list of “what if’s” and tied to a bunch of “nots” and whatnot.  We misconstrue our own connotations of our lazy riddles which blinds us of all things logical.  This is our generation’s tragedy. Remembering my grandfather, as it was his birthday a couple weeks ago, I forgot that questions that concern the “what ifs” with the ensuing “nots” have already been answered for us.  Whilst our families before us suffered a great deal, trudging through the swamps of concerns that of not knowing whether or not they can survive in such a cruel world they extemporaneously, albeit willingly, washed up on, they somehow made it to the great plains the folklore of our nation sang so gallantly about.  

We worship the digital, and being informed on things we have no adherence to, yet we never stop to consider what the meaning of the great names that we uneducatedly tattoo on ourselves, those that hold the oppressing burden carried before us.  Sometimes even I forget that it is much easier for me to find success only due to the many before me, those who suffered to put me in this privileged position.  My lolo, or tatay whom I always intimately endear him often, regularly slipped and tripped and stumbled and fell during his first steps, as many of our aspirers had, on this unconquered nation.

Once, it was not a world the previous generations had imagined, a land of equal opportunity, hitherto they bounced off bullet-proof glass ceilings, landing further behind the initial path, and ultimately, Twice they stood.  This generation, we so much get a slight shove from rejection, forcing us to our backs, many a time we choose to roll over and die, complaining about injustices and unfairness, offering up excuses in lue of effort.  

While we should not dedicate our lives to these historical allusions, we should fucking push ourselves to make our forefathers efforts worth what they died for.  I would have my lolos name pump inspiration in my veins rather his name be in vein.  (that was corny)

We have a laundry list of “what-ifs” and a grab bag of “nots” we hold in our pockets next to our cell phones, wallets, chapstick and keys.  We have much disdain for this everyday list that we carry around with us, yet we lazily follow it without contention.  Consequently, we remove ourselves willingly without reproaching discourse or action, with asinine, misguided dedication, from achieving what our forefathers died for in this unforgiving and fucked up world.  Cease to realize, utilize, and supersize your talent and potential, and you will let it rot in the biles of regret, while you remain, with nothing inside, only able to show nothing, and become absolutely nothing.  Where they readily weathered, our generation, myself included, withered.  

It is easy for me to carry this list of “what ifs” and grab bags of  ”nots”, recyclable and weightless nothings.  Its not so easy for me to present this list next to the rock-chiseled achievements of my tatay, forever my lecturing hero.  One day though, I will surpass that amount, as he always intended for me to do.

“You haven’t really failed.. Because you haven’t really tried to succeed.  So don’t credit yourself as a failure.  You’re worse than that.”  - (Take Me Home Tonight, 2011)

This past year was a kaleidoscope of emotions.  The year was jagged during it’s infancy, seemingly preordained for another series of disappointments that have been consistently littered throughout the years preceding.  But as the days trudged, fate would no longer let me fail anymore.  I would meet the motivation I sorely desired, the spark to my dwindling fire.  Then, the cornerstone of my family found her mojo and took the reins of her life, steering this family of misfortunes to a crew of dependable day to day smiles.  With stability in my life finally concrete, the next step was to remove the veil of false concentration and self-entitlement.  My own perception of my abilities slowly began to make me realize that its overall quality had been overblown and doubt began to bleed out of me in everything I did.  What I learned from this hemorrhage of my own anxiety is that a simple band-aid would not heal the problems of laziness.   It would take some work.  Hard work.  And a relentless will to become better everyday.  Although I still flail about during my course to find my destiny, at the very least I am finally taking my shot.  The adage that “talk is cheap” is actually a gross understatement.  Talk is useless.  Talk is just a waste of breath.  Thats air that I can utilize elsewhere.  I’m gonna need all that air to keep on pace on this marathon with my out-of-shape ass.  And as for this new year, I’m not longer apprehensive of the troubles that may await me, rather, I’m worried if this year is ready for me or not.  Well so much for the allusions of self-doubt and renewed humbleness.  2012, you ain’t really ready.

Good morning. What you’ve done is remarkable, helping me accomplish the arduous task of replacing daily mourning with good morning greetings. Everyday while our star is birthed above the peaks of our variable spectrum horizon, i get to peek, through drowsy, half open eyes, of you steady treading the borderlines of your half awake, half sweetly dreaming state, a humbling reminder of all things beautiful. What a wonderful pain, to have to leave the side you reserved for me, in our cozy nest. There is a binary feeling, of the freezing separation and the burning sensation in my chest, when I have to leave to do what I do. There is no glorification to having muster up the bravery of rising out of our linked slumber, but rather a yearning to hold you another once upon a time. Fuck the Sarcadian rhythm, it is a thorn to the side of a man madly in love. Your souls embrace on mine own is so warming that I lean on the bathroom wall, shivering in the steamy shower, a fiend suffering from withdrawals of your simple touch. The air outside, a blizzard as I clutch onto myself, practicing the hug we share every night to morning, your breath on my neck replaced by cool, lonely breezes. Passing my window, I peer through the curtains to make sure you really are there and not a figment of my imagination. And yet, I would happily settle in that prospective psychopathic state. But you are there. So here’s a Hershey accompanying every Hallmark, a kiss infused with each greeting. Good morning, good morning, good morning.