Lose/Win people bury a lot of feelings. And unexpressed feelings come forth later in uglier ways. Psychosomatic illnesses often are the reincarnation of cumulative resentment, deep disappointment and disillusionment repressed by the Lose/Win mentality. Disproportionate rage or anger, overreaction to minor provocation, and cynicism are other embodiments of suppressed emotion. People who are constantly repressing, not transcending feelings toward a higher meaning find that it affects the quality of their relationships with others. — Stephen R. Covey, management expert–
Every waking day, err, night (I still work at night, dammit), I feel like conceding to my heart’s desire of living a bohemian lifestyle. I want to escape from it all. But I couldn’t. I just freakin’ couldn’t (for “five cute and loveable” palpable reasons). So every night, I have to force to sit myself up straight from dreamland and wind up this bony and worn-out, corporate-slave @$s of mine, struggling to keep my jaded eyes open. Me and wifey bid our kids goodnight and goodbye, embracing them and kissing them, always feeling like we want to stay with them for the rest of the night, and for all the nights of their juvenile lives. Regrettably, we couldn’t. We just freakin’ couldn’t. And as we dress up and prepare ourselves for our source of bread and butter, I glance at my books at home — hundreds still unread. And then I begin to ponder: so many books to read, so much to scribble about, so little time. And after a couple of worthless seconds, we leave our humble flat as I disconsolately drag my nimble metatarsals to where I should go: the capitalist machinery.
But in the first place, why whine like a hapless unwashed cat? I should even be beholden to all the heavenly boon that we’ve been receiving from Him who has everything. But since we are His creation, I speculate that perhaps the reason why we mortals never stop yearning for the things that we don’t have is because we have this instinctual fancy of gaining everything our materialistic sights have set upon, because we were not created His equal (no intention of committing blasphemy; it is just my view). There is some sort of “divine atavistic” covetousness that is left in us because we are, simply put, incomplete. We cannot levitate, we cannot predict the future, we cannot make ambrosia out of our excrement, we cannot travel from one continent to another in the speed of light.
That is why we have to imagine and create fiction and weave funky words into meaningful verses to “complete ourselves” because we lack perfection. We are inchoate. We are mere mortals. We hunger to be alive. In varying degrees we always think of immortalizing ourselves and our fellowmen through art and –to some extent– corruption, to break loose from the cynical disposition that we are all in at the moment.
Oh, such bright words. “At the fu¢k!n’ moment”. Because ice melts. Because flowers wither. Because with every disgusting El Niño has a La Niña equivalent. Yes, everything is fluid. And fiction changes historical disposition. Nothing lasts forever. And forever doesn’t even sound final.
I am but a rudimentary being, a voiceless chap yearning for liberty of mind. And so –quite humorously– I find my hopes currently entangled into some multi-tiered trade which disgusts me yet makes me laugh out loud at the same time with pure, unavenged merriment. “Omigosh! This is it! This is it! Eureka! Eureka! Eu-fu¢k!n’-reka!” I’ve found the golden $H!+, at long last. I’m now building myself a pyramid of dreams even though, in all honesty, ambivalence still prevails. But since 2012 is near (LOL!), it’s a gamble worth playing for. And like I said, I’ve found the golden $H!t. So fu¢k King Midas for all his fictive worth.
I have come to the belief that I am not really cut for vocation. And so I downplay my economic disillusionment with pecuniary adventurism.
With this new venture, I hope to give measure to life’s treatment of humanistic treasure.