I will dance for ever

I’ve been meaning to start watching SYTYCD again. I stopped because it always made me cry.

But, I am a dancer. Always have. Always will be. I will never not stop crying when I see beautiful dancing. I will dance for ever.

Ever and ever.


They say one should constantly remind oneself of what one wants


So, here I go:

One day in the near future, I’m going to see Riverdance live.

I’m going to visit Ireland and maybe have a house there.

I’m going to walk under an oak tree. I may even climb it.

I’m going to save Irish Gaelic.

I’m going to be really fluent in it.

I’m going to see Heartbeat of Home very, very soon.

I’m going to take up formal Irish dancing —

— and flamenco, too!

I’m going to reunite with my relatives in Lebanon and Argentina.

I’m going to dance dabke with them.

I’m going to step into the house of my great grandfather’s house in Fouara.

I’m going to pick olives and dates and oranges.

I’m going to pray at a cedar tree, beneath the White Mountains.

I’m going to pick cherries in Canada.

I’m going to live there with my family. We’ll have a really nice garden.

I’m going to collect maple sap for maple syrup.

I’m going to pick apples and make apple pie.

I’m going to study Norse religion in Norway —

— or Ancient History at Cambridge.

I’m going to be a badass professor of sociolinguistics or history.

I’m going to speak at least 5 languages.

I’m going to discover something explosive in the field of science.

I’m going to change things for the better wherever I go.

I’m going to make sure boys can freely love other boys and girls can love other girls.

I’m going to meet new interesting people and make friends with them.

I’m going to bake the best goddamn bread in Montréal.

I’m going to take my mother around the world.

I’m going to run my hands through fields of lavender in Provence.

I’m going to honour the memories of my ancestors wherever I go.

I’m going to visit Vigan with my grandmother, then take her to a trip to South Korea.

I’m going to be an amazing bodhrán player, fiddler, or tin whistler —

— or all of them.

I’m going to meet my idols, shake their hands (or hug them), and have a nice conversation with them.

I’m going to visit a really cool theme park with my brother and cousins.

I’m going to build a really nice backyard for my cat and dog.

I’m going to make my grandmothers become great grandmothers to three wonderful, beautiful kids.

I’m going to love them with all my heart and do what’s best for them.

I’m going to consider their thoughts whenever I decide on anything.

I’m going to step foot in Knossos.

I’m going to swim in the Aegean with my friends.

I’m going to leave coins or sweets for Hermês wherever I go.

I’m going to see Udaipur with my adopted sister. We’re going to do puja everyday.

I’m going to tie myself to really awesome people who will love me for all that I am.

I’m going to see the world with my bestest bro-friend.

I’m going to help my other friends get to where they want to go.

I’m going to have enough —

— or more.

I’m going to be really happy with what I’ve done so far.

I’m going to see most of these accomplished before I turn 40, and then I can add more.


[Images from somewhere in Tumblr-land I no longer remember.]

I feel I need to get this out of my chest before I explode

I want out. I need to go. I don’t belong here.

It’s not just the corruption. It’s not just the dumbfucks and the butthurts and the pollution and the prevailing culture of hypocrisy, mediocrity, and bore. You’ll find those anywhere. It’s not because I’m going through a quarter-life crisis right now and listening to Patrick Watson (though the feeling has certainly intensified as a result).

It’s because I don’t belong here–I’ve never belonged here, even as a young boy. Perhaps it’s my Western heritage talking or perhaps it’s mostly me, I’m not sure. But, it’s the recurring sadness, the feeling of being the oddball, being alone, the feeling of not “belonging” that gets to me … deep, deep within me. It’s the feeling of helplessness, being restless, the feeling of not being appreciated (or meaningless appreciation if appreciated at all), and the feeling that I’ll never get anywhere if I stay.

This place feels like exile and I’m just waiting for the right time to return somewhere else. It’s like my brain isn’t synced to this place. I just want to go home. I mean, I am home. I love the feeling of physically staying here in our house with my family, but that feeling withers away when I walk out through the door. It feels like I’m in a foreign country outside. I need to feel at home even when I’m on the bus, at work, or at a café. (Don’t we all?)

My friends ask me if I could find it in my heart to be happy here. I am happy. I’m always generally happy and thankful. I’m happy to be with my family. No offence, but at least I’m not in Afghanistan or North Korea. I don’t have to deal with the Taliban or dictators. I’m actually in a pretty good place. My rights are protected; people can’t stone me for homosexuality or polyamory. Life is generally cheap and I could get a job with my English anytime.

But, the truth is, I could be a lot happier. I could better chase my dreams somewhere else. I actually could live my dreams somewhere else. I just don’t see that happening here. I never did.

What do I really want? Well, I want foliage; red, orange, and amber. I want to pick apples. I want to make apple pie from the apples I pick. I want to stomp on grapes. I want to walk under an oak tree. I want to climb an oak tree. I want to walk through fields of lavender. I want to pick and smell the lavender. I want a white Christmas and make a real wreath. I want to put up holiday decorations that actually mean something. I want to bake bread. I want to make cheese. I want to dance. I want to dance with actual people who know that Irish hardshoe isn’t tap dancing. I want to meet other Pagans, serious ones. I want to teach Linguistics or Ancient History in a university where people take learning seriously–where flipping through history books is their passion–and not just a place to get a degree and work an 8-hour job, marry, have kids, dream of buying a car, dream of buying a house, and retire at 60 (possibly with neither car nor house). I don’t want that, but that’s exactly what people expect you to aim for here. Not that I care what other people think … My family supports me and that’s all that matters, but there’s so few of us here and so many of them out there.

I want people who have burning passions and can fight for them. I want fierceness in conviction not a shrug. I want to pick apples, bake bread, and be a professor. You could never do that here. If I wanted to live as a farmer, I’d have to give up blogging because there’s no way I can make pay Internet bills from digging up earth. Farmers are practically serfs here and teachers don’t get a lot of credit, either.

I’m a brilliant young man, modesty aside, and full of hope and love for the world and her gods. I need a place that can see and appreciate that–truly appreciate how valuable a person who knows how to map human migration patterns with his eyes closed, write in 10 different writing systems, and read in 24 accents. I need a country that can take me in, foster my unique talents, and not just send me off to another country to be someone else’s serf.

Some people say I’ve idealised certain countries because of this. Well, at least, I can do that and not lie to myself, not by much. My father knew all this. He wanted to get us all out, too. I was so excited when he told me. We were all so excited … That didn’t happen, needless to say, but I think it’s about time I start working on that again.

Some people might say I shouldn’t ask what my country can do for me blah-blah what I can do for my country blah-blah. I am doing a good job at that, I think. I’m a very good citizen; I pay taxes, I don’t break any laws, I use the pedestrian crossing 99% of the time, I don’t kick stray animals in the face, I treat people fairly, I don’t treat the pavements as my personal urinal or bin, I involve myself in national issues when I have to, and I try not to add up to the mess. What does this country do? Steal my money, so stinking politicians can have holidays abroad and spoil their brats. They can’t even give you a decent education without taking away your life savings.

I could never dream of leaving my family behind, so I stay until I can take them with me. That and because I don’t exactly have enough cash for a plane ticket right now.

I’ve always belonged to my family. Home is where they are and home is where I’ll stay. I just hope I get to take us somewhere else where home extends to the rest of the country.

Gods help me.


Still quite lucky

Okay, I’m back. Amazing, I tell you. Bangkok is so much better than Manila in so many ways. But, I won’t go into that right now because I don’t want my blog to be hijacked by butthurt dimwits.

So anyway, I promised I would eventually talk about what’s been going on and why I’ve been more introspective here than usual. But, first, some photos:

DSC_0867 2013-06-27 14.29.26 2013-06-27 10.13.57 2013-06-27 11.49.10 2013-06-27 11.47.55 2013-06-27 11.45.27 2013-06-27 10.47.30 1014338_10151548669314440_1798558256_n

^ So much love.

Anywho. I can’t totally describe what I’m going through right now. I left clues here, if you remember:

The same old questions I had when I first started to work are louder now on my sixth year:

“What am I doing?”

“What is this all for?”

“How do I get closer to my goals?”

“Where am I headed?”

Did being in 5 companies in 6 years help me? Did being in Quality, Training, Management, or Sales in these 6 years help me get closer to my life goals? Does my “colourful” background in Hospitality/Customer Service/Telco/Real Estate/BPO/Finance actually even help me to get where I want to be in life? It’s not bad, no. It could actually be something good, but it’s easier to think that it’s something bad if you’re the type to wallow in defeat or doubt. I’m not the type, so here I am. Like I’ve told you before:

I’m not complaining. I did get what I needed in each of the years I worked, and I thank Hermês for all the good connections I’ve made and where my hard-earnt money went. All these questions don’t stress me out as much anymore. My quarter life crisis is coming to an end, I suppose, as I begin to unload the unnecessary baggage from my life. I feel lighter about life now. The “wrong” turns I’ve made don’t matter as much as what I’m doing to get back in the game. Never mind that it’s going to be a challenge fighting for what I want. I’m taking myself onto my own path. I’m beginning to see the road much more clearly now, thanks to my people and my spirits.

Currently, I am on my 6th company (my third this year, Jesus Christ!) and I’m not even sure if it’s going to last until Christmas or if there’s going be a 7th still. Imagine that. But, you know what, it’s never really turned out so bad (thank Hermês!) and that’s what amazes me. I gave my previous company the finger this year, got rejected twice in two new jobs, and yet, I still had a lot to take home (lessons and moniez). My life so far continues to be a story of “buti na lang” or “thank my lucky stars”.

That said, I’m now working on being more conscious about the choices I make, reminding myself of what my goals are, paying attention to “signs” and gut feelings, and seeking counsel with other INFJs who are doing far better than I am with our strengths and weaknesses. I trust myself and the people around me that things will get better… because I will work twice as hard to make it so.

I also realise now that I should always work for my heart–my eyes on my goals every time I enter a new job. For every day gone by; for every work done, we should be making long-term investments to our own passions. We all have one. That one thing that makes us who we are; makes us feel we’ve given something valuable, something beautiful to this world.

The past doesn’t matter anymore, of course. We can’t go back; we can only learn from it. What matters is what we’re doing now to feed that part of our souls that makes us feel alive. There’s still time. At 27, I realise this. And thus, the Gods have spoken

Here, have a beautiful cave, a wolf, and a beautiful boy:

melissani_cave_2_c tumblr_mj03cypKvr1r09lako1_500 155902_10200290834818073_1604996216_n

Icarus Wings

Landschap met val van Icarus - Pieter Brueghel the Elder

Landschap met val van Icarus – Pieter Brueghel the Elder

A scolding from my friend, the seerapist (seer/therapist), through myth and fiction:

You want to hang a painting on your home wall. But your home wall is concrete, and you don’t exactly know how to hang it, so you’re like: “Man, I don’t have a power drill. I need to get the latest power drill, the VinDiesel-170a.” 

You go to the phones and call the hardware store, and ask for it. “How much is that?”

“Yeah, it’s 102 Simoleons.”

“Oh, I don’t have enough saved to get it, I can only set aside 30 Simoleons a month for this kind of stuff.”

“I guess I’ll have to wait for 4 months.”

So you get really excited, you put the painting safe in a dark room while saving up money for the VinDiesel-170a. It is the biggest, most powerful power drill, It’s new and efficient. It’s definitely going to get your painting on the wall.

After 4 months, you finally get the drill from the shop, and it has a step-by-step instruction manual that you use to try to construct the drill. But you’ve never actually constructed any power tools before, so it takes you a few hours to do it.

In the meantime, your friends come over.

“Hey Sisyphus! What’s up? What are you doing today?”

“Nothing much Prometheus. I finally got this drill that I’ve been waiting for. So I can finally hang my painting on the wall. Isn’t it fantastic? I’m still figuring out how to use it.”

“Wow, it really is shiny and big. I’m sure you can do very very many things with it. Can I see the painting you wanted to hang?”

So you get the painting from the dark room, it’s a big heavy painting of Bruegel’s ‘Landscape with the fall of Icarus’.

It makes your living room really POP, and is in balance with the rest of your furniture, which are all in dark wood and brown, earthy tones.

“It’s my favorite, it’s an heirloom that’s been passed down through generations,” you say.

“Wow, it is really impressive, and I think that it will complete your living room. And you plan on hanging it on that concrete wall?”

“Yeah I am. The northern wall is the best place to hang it. So that’s why I got this awesome drill.”

Prometheus watches as you fumble assembling the final parts of the drill, and looks to your southern wall. “And you need the drill because it’s the only thing that can put nails through concrete, right?”

You look up. “Yeah.”

“I just want the painting hung up on this room.”

Prometheus has a quizzical look on his face. “Your southern wall is made of wood, not concrete. Why didn’t you just hammer it there?”

“I……………… erm, well…”

Prometheus continues. “If it upsets the design of your living room, we can always rearrange the furniture. It’s certainly cheaper than getting that power drill.”

He looks at you, Sisyphus. “But I guess you really wanted to buy that drill, huh? Well, that’s fine, if that makes you happy. But I remember that you told me before that nothing would make you happier than getting the painting hung in this room.”

“I…. I guess I never thought of that… I was too busy thinking about the drill that I never realized other ways of hanging the painting.”

Prometheus laughs. “It’s alright. Do you think I was stupid when I stole fire and got my guts eaten for millennia? I knew all of that would happen, and I planned it all along. Don’t get your guts eaten for nothing.”


Well, I’ll be.

When you are not sure, divine!

From: unionovserpents.tumblr

From: unionovserpents.tumblr

I asked the runes today whether I should take this job that I was applying for. It’s not exactly what I want, but it could still get me by?

Here’s what my seer/therapist-friend said:

The runes are Eoh (yew) and Ior (eel). Yew is stubborn and steadfast, and it’s about resistance. Needless to say, it sounds like choosing this path would require you to persevere. The eel for me sounds like the balance between work and life. You’ll have to juggle those again.

I asked the runes what you should do in general right now. They gave me Cweordh (fire twirl) and Ac (oak/acorn). Apparently, even if you have broken your fast, you are still being purified. The non-essential things in your life are being burned away because the forest must be cleared for the planting of an acorn: something small, something humble that takes time and grows into something massive.

So you can do two things at the moment: identify what no longer helps you move on as a person and try to well let it go, and cultivate your acorns.

My personal advice to you is I don’t think you should be too much in a hurry to find a new job and get employed. Just because you’re working, just because you’re busy, it doesn’t mean you’re moving faster to your goals in life. It’s like running around in place. You’re just tiring yourself out but you’re not really getting anywhere.

I think you feel bad when you don’t work. Like, you feel like a bad son or something. But, ultimately, these are just stepping stones. You can’t keep stepping around on stepping stones for ever.

Because of their inferior’s concern for material comforts, INFJs also tend to struggle with subsistence-related fears. They may worry excessively about losing their jobs, being forced to relocate, or not having enough money.

You complain about how radical, anti-religious atheists fight for an absence of something. Ultimately, that is not sustainable. But, acting out of fear… is acting for absence of something. Acting for its removal. That is not sustainable. One will always be running away from something, but where are they going? What’s the goal? Many people lead their lives acting out of fear, to rid themselves of something. But maybe it’s much better to act towards the fulfillment of something rather than the absence of something. Because otherwise one will just end up nowhere.

Thank the Gods for seers and runes and therapists.

If it interests you to know…


I turned 27 last month. Just a few years ago, I was wondering how it would feel to be 27. Deduct a few more years and you would find me wondering how it would feel like to work and earn my own money. Well, 27 isn’t so bad. Actually, I don’t feel any different. Just… older… and maybe, even wiser.

I’m also on my sixth year as a tax-paying member of the country’s workforce. The same old questions I had when I started to work are louder now on my sixth year. Did being in 5 companies in 6 years help me? Did being in Quality, Training, Management, or Sales in these 6 years help me get closer to my life goals? Does my colourful background in Hospitality/Customer Service/Telco/Real Estate/BPO/Finance actually even help me to get where I want to be in life? Well, yes, but things could have been faster if I had remembered where my heart truly belongs.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. I did get what I needed in each of the years I worked, and I thank Hermês for all the good connections I’ve made and where my hard-earnt money went. All these questions don’t stress me out as much anymore. My quarter life crisis is coming to an end, I suppose, as I begin to unload the unnecessary baggage from my back. I feel lighter about life now. The “wrong” turns I’ve made don’t matter as much as what I’m doing to get back in the game. Never mind that it’s going to be a challenge fighting for what I want. I’m taking myself onto my own path. I’m beginning to see the road much more clearly now, thanks to my people and my spirits.

Also, if it interests you, I have joined the International Dialects of English Archive family as an associate editor for the Philippine region. Please visit our website and listen to our samples! It’s all volunteer work, but it’s the closest I can get to what I really want to do right now. Hopefully, this will spearhead the changes I need to get myself going. Time to get oneself going.