As a true blue Libran, I have been constantly plagued with bouts of severe decision paralysis. And these situations involve, not life-changing decisions that need to be made, but normal, everyday stuff like picking a shirt (even if it's the same crappy set I choose from every week) or choosing between chocolate cake or ice cream (which sometimes invariably end up together in the same bowl).
When I am blessed with a lucid mind (which doesn't happen very often as of late), I can take [almost] any situation and be able to see both sides clearly. This trait can also come as a hindrance for me as I see both sides, it would sometimes be difficult for me to pick one, make a choice or take a side. This is where the predicament arises: decision paralysis at its best [or worst, depending on the situation].
There have been a number of thoughts that I have been pondering on and I haven't actually gotten any nearer a conclusion. I'd like to share them with you and I'd appreciate hearing what your opinions are regarding them:
1. On loving half-way and loving with all your heart and soul.
A few people have said to me that you shouldn't love too much as to leave yourself with nothing. "Magtitira ka para sa sarili mo." If this is the case, one would be loving someone only half-way (or not wholeheartedly) and not with one's very existence. Isn't it true that, for you to be able to say that you love someone, one must be able to love him/her with your heart and soul? "Hindi ba kapag nagmahal ka, dapat lahat-lahat, buong-buo ng pagkatao mo ibibigay mo para maramdaman ng taong minamahal mo na siya ay minamahal mo ng lubusan?"
2. Fighting for love and letting go.
When would you know that you should fight for love? Would you fight for love against all odds? Would you be steadfast even if the one you love isn't sure if the both of you should go on? Does it hold true that when you love someone, you should be ready to face anything and be prepared to overcome obstacles along the way? When would you know that you should let go? Or should you let go? Is letting go tantamount to saying that you are giving up?
3. A person should change for the one he/she loves or a person should accept his/her partner for what he/she is.
Should a person change for him/her to be accepted by the one he loves? Or should the person learn to accept and live with the shortcomings of his/her love?
I know that for some, the premises I have raised would seem childish and impudent. But let's say for the sake of argument, you had to make a choice, what would you do? Which would you choose?
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
Conversations Amongst Myself
For the record, and I want this to be quite clear, I am not psychotic. No, no really. I am not. It might not seem apparent at first glance, as I may exhibit negligible personality shifts and disorganized thinking, but I assure you that I am in complete control of all my conscious thought and mental processes. I AM... am I not?
What I admit that I do not have control over, are those darned voices that keep muttering inside my thick skull. Again, I repeat, I AM NOT CRAZY. But ever since I was a little kid, I've always felt that there wasn't a moment that I would be left alone. You couldn't see anybody around me. But that doesn't mean that I WAS alone.
It kinda helped me survive my early years as a kid. My mom was so protective of me that I wasn't allowed to play outside the house with other kids. Well, for good reason. The next house with a kid my age was nowhere near our place. I had to use binoculars and smoke signals just to get a simple invitation across to another kid. You could just imagine the lengths I would have to go through just to play with other kids on our street. Ah, my sweet childhood. Happy days... Yes. Happy daze.
This is exactly the reason why I had to content myself with what I had within my reach. I thought to myself, "What did I have that would keep me occupied?" Hmmm... My Lego set. My Lionbots. My RC car and track set. Countless episodes of Sesame Street and Batibot on the tube. Hmmm... what else.. Oh, my. I almost forgot. MY IMAGINATION. I think I had started using my imagination at such a young and fertile age that, my imagination seems to have grown a mind of its own...
I tried to shrug the voices off and reasoned that what was happening to me could be attributed to an [overly] hyperactive imagination. It can't be possible. No it can't be. Only me and my mom were at the house most of the time. I was quite sure that there was nobody around when I heard them. Yes. Them.
I remember hearing a few set of different voices depending on where I was in the house. There was this little voice that pulled me from deep slumber. Or the one voice that whispered softly and made me turn around and look at my back, only to find nothing. The weird thing is that all I can remember hearing were unintelligible whispers or sounds that made no sense. Imagine my surprise as only me and my mom where at the house at this time. Yup. Me. Mom. And them.
One time, I made this huge mistake of telling my superstitious aunts what I was experiencing and this prompted them to go on code red. They made me wear a scapular. They had me "treated" by an old witch doctor ["albularyo"]. I also had to wear a piece of cloth given by the "albularyo." It was a whole production. It was done in our ancestral home in San Pablo, and the kibitzers just continued pouring in as the "ritual cleansing" was performed. Fortunately, the whole event was over before things got worse. I was expecting to be tied as my head spun around uncontrollably... wait. That wasn't me. Hahaha.
Thankfully enough, I outgrew them. I do not hear powwows in my head any longer. I couldn't remember when was the last time I heard these voices. I guess it was a kind of coping mechanism I did to compensate for my lack of social interactions as a child. If this was the case, I need to surround myself with people and shun my reclusive ways lest I suffer a relapse of sorts.
I may seem like an oddball to others. A weirdo most of the time. Or worse, a rambling psychotic. Mumbling seemingly incohesive nothings at the corner. What I have now is what people may see as an outward manifestation of my advancing condition: I mussitate. Okay, so I might have overreacted by a notch... Others may view this as alarming, odd or even remotely irritating. I mussitate whenever I think. But it's that characteristic that makes me unique. I didn't realize that I would come to terms and appreciate this trait and all the others that makes me, well, ME. If you see me that way, it's normal. People who know me have grown accustomed with these nuances. I'm glad they've learned to laugh at it and came to accept it. C'est moi. And I love it! :P
What I admit that I do not have control over, are those darned voices that keep muttering inside my thick skull. Again, I repeat, I AM NOT CRAZY. But ever since I was a little kid, I've always felt that there wasn't a moment that I would be left alone. You couldn't see anybody around me. But that doesn't mean that I WAS alone.
It kinda helped me survive my early years as a kid. My mom was so protective of me that I wasn't allowed to play outside the house with other kids. Well, for good reason. The next house with a kid my age was nowhere near our place. I had to use binoculars and smoke signals just to get a simple invitation across to another kid. You could just imagine the lengths I would have to go through just to play with other kids on our street. Ah, my sweet childhood. Happy days... Yes. Happy daze.
This is exactly the reason why I had to content myself with what I had within my reach. I thought to myself, "What did I have that would keep me occupied?" Hmmm... My Lego set. My Lionbots. My RC car and track set. Countless episodes of Sesame Street and Batibot on the tube. Hmmm... what else.. Oh, my. I almost forgot. MY IMAGINATION. I think I had started using my imagination at such a young and fertile age that, my imagination seems to have grown a mind of its own...
I tried to shrug the voices off and reasoned that what was happening to me could be attributed to an [overly] hyperactive imagination. It can't be possible. No it can't be. Only me and my mom were at the house most of the time. I was quite sure that there was nobody around when I heard them. Yes. Them.
I remember hearing a few set of different voices depending on where I was in the house. There was this little voice that pulled me from deep slumber. Or the one voice that whispered softly and made me turn around and look at my back, only to find nothing. The weird thing is that all I can remember hearing were unintelligible whispers or sounds that made no sense. Imagine my surprise as only me and my mom where at the house at this time. Yup. Me. Mom. And them.
One time, I made this huge mistake of telling my superstitious aunts what I was experiencing and this prompted them to go on code red. They made me wear a scapular. They had me "treated" by an old witch doctor ["albularyo"]. I also had to wear a piece of cloth given by the "albularyo." It was a whole production. It was done in our ancestral home in San Pablo, and the kibitzers just continued pouring in as the "ritual cleansing" was performed. Fortunately, the whole event was over before things got worse. I was expecting to be tied as my head spun around uncontrollably... wait. That wasn't me. Hahaha.
Thankfully enough, I outgrew them. I do not hear powwows in my head any longer. I couldn't remember when was the last time I heard these voices. I guess it was a kind of coping mechanism I did to compensate for my lack of social interactions as a child. If this was the case, I need to surround myself with people and shun my reclusive ways lest I suffer a relapse of sorts.
I may seem like an oddball to others. A weirdo most of the time. Or worse, a rambling psychotic. Mumbling seemingly incohesive nothings at the corner. What I have now is what people may see as an outward manifestation of my advancing condition: I mussitate. Okay, so I might have overreacted by a notch... Others may view this as alarming, odd or even remotely irritating. I mussitate whenever I think. But it's that characteristic that makes me unique. I didn't realize that I would come to terms and appreciate this trait and all the others that makes me, well, ME. If you see me that way, it's normal. People who know me have grown accustomed with these nuances. I'm glad they've learned to laugh at it and came to accept it. C'est moi. And I love it! :P
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