the way the world used to look

Remember that advertising slogan "I'm a Toys R Us kid"? I used to have one of those T-shirts, but I was never a Toys R Us kid. In fact, I was deeply disappointed and never found out why anyone would want to go to Toys R Us. And Toys R Us had no one else to blame except themselves.

Growing up, there was this advertisement on tv with children singing "I don't want to grow up..." and you see happy children running around this furry, child-friendly amusement park-like place with a giant giraffe. I don't think I had ever been to an amusement park then, but I really wanted to go to Toys R Us. I bugged my parents and finally they brought me there. I have no memory of going there unfortunately. The next memory I have with relation to Toys R Us is seeing the ad again on tv and asking my parents if we could go. They looked at me and said, "But we've been there and you didn't like it."

Since I have no memory of ever going to Toys R Us, I shall have to imagine what my impression of Toys R Us was. My guess is that I saw rows and rows and shelves and shelves of boxes, colorful boxes but nonetheless boxes. Maybe there were a few toys out for kids to play with, but there was definitely no giant giraffe prancing around, or rides, or gardens of fluffy giant animals. You can see how an impressionable child of 5 was scarred for life. Why would she ever be a Toys R Us kid? Clearly, Toys R Us had a lot to learn from MacDonald's with regards to marketing and children, bringing up hopes and dashing them.

I don't watch tv too much these days, if at all. I wonder how many other children out there get disappointed like I did when I was much younger. Monkeys don't hop out of cereal boxes (Cocoa Crunch used to have that) and swing around the kitchen. You don't get a strange tiger(?) on an adventure with children looking for hidden treasure (Paddle Pop ice cream) being chased around by a pirate. Having been taken in by one advertisement, I learnt to ignore those false advertisements, and consequently the products to prevent further disappointment. Paddle Pop ice cream will never taste good to me, and I didn't enjoy Cocoa Crunch. I'll forever be confused about why I don't get a swinging monkey in my kitchen, or a treasure hunt for ice cream.

Some childhood memories are strange, but they are the way I have seen the world. Silly as I may have been, I still make sense to myself.

written in 30 seconds

They are all my voices
And again, I shall speak
Of the past, the present, the future
Of thoughts, of emotions
Of hope and dreams
Of darkness and gloom
All part of one voice
A body, an existence
Repeating
Voices of the old have already spoken

Personal criteria for writing -- if it doesn't come out in as much as time as needed to type it all out, it's not ready to be written.

On a road

I know that I said that I would write regularly, but it's not going to happen these few weeks. I'm busy, and I will be busy. No, this is not some attempt to make myself sound important. There is nothing to be proud of being busy with the mundane things in life. I wouldn't dismiss my activities altogether though. Being busy with frivolous mundane things can be rather fulfilling -- there is a specific goal, and you know you can finish the task. It makes you feel good about yourself, and maybe there will be a virtuous cycle that spirals into larger things. Being busy keeps me from those existential thoughts that plague me, which is both a relief and a source of discomfort. Falling asleep as soon as my head touches the pillow, instead of staying awake and reflecting on recent events -- would it be absurd to claim that it's times like this that distinguishes the worker bees from the individuals? Maybe. For all we know, worker bees do think. We sort of follow these time progressions with regards to our responsibilities in life anyway. Maybe we are worker bees.

You know that rebeling is futile when the rebel follows a set of motions exhibited by (an)other rebel(s). If "On the Road" is the bible for the rebel, isn't that still following some sort of a guideline? A stereotype defined by society albeit different from another society stereotype that you are trying to get out of.

I walked past a poster for a play that had the word "Kerouac" on it. It was like the sign saying "for madmen only", and like Harry Haller, I had to walk in. Because, maybe.

Sleight of hand and twist of fate

One of my favorite lines of poetry goes "Ask me where I am going, and I'll tell you 'things keep on happening' " Well, something to that extent anyway. The original line is "Si me preguntais en donde he estado debo decir `Sucede'". I don't know enough Spanish to translate that properly, so I have to use the translation that I prefer, neglecting accuracy. It is obviously not accurate.

It goes nicely along with the "muss es sein" idea -- must it be? It could have been otherwise, but it's not. So what is the point of thinking about what is not? I've never been able to rid myself of the sneaking suspicion that things can very well be otherwise. I have been incredibly lucky, and I have to admit that to myself even if you prefer to say that I worked for it and thus deserve what I have. I won't deny you your belief of justice and fairness. Life isn't fair, but it's hard to say exactly how unfair life's been. For the better I say.

Ask me where I am going, and you know my reply. "Things, they keep happening."

Friday night poetry

I burnt my tongue on pasta sauce
and soothed it with yogurt.
A small plastic cup
of artificially-flavored goodness,
I lifted the metal foil of the lid,
and ran my tongue over
the layer of pink underneath
that cooled for a while
overwhelming with sweetness.

things happen

I shall admit that I listen to country music, because I find the lyrics somewhat down-to-earth and appealing. The song I'm thinking of today is "Here in the Real World" by Alan Jackson.

Cowboys don't cry, and heroes don't die
Good always wins, again and again
Love is a sweet dream that always comes true
Oh, if life were like the movies, I'd never be blue

June 03, 2006
--- *** ---

I don't remember why I wrote the above paragraphs anymore. I don't think I will recall it ever. I may find something else related to the above that I can write about in the near future, but chances are that I'll simply forget that I ever wrote it. Already, I read previously written prose and wonder how I could have ever come up with them. I can probably try to recall the circumstances under which I wrote, but it's impossible to recreate that exact mood that I was in when I was writing. It was a rainy morning, and I was having coffee at my desk. But what was I feeling? I didn't have time to record it before I was interrupted. Now, I shall never know what was going on, except that I was thinking of a song by Alan Jackson.

The world doesn't strike me as being very real. Real meaning full of the tragedy of the human condition. Most of the time, things are just ridiculous in some way or another. To be ridiculous is human? To be sad is to be real? Am I a Schopenhauer incarnate because I think that sadness is the true form of life? Yes, I am particularly susceptible to the pessimistic school of philosophers despite my blessed situation. I'm not ungrateful. It just happens.

The optimistic race

Why do you think that God is good? Sorry, I don't mean to sound sacrilegious, but it kinda popped into my head while I was having pizza. There was a bunch of people who were talking really loudly, and they were laughing and one guy exclaimed that he met God in New York City. Really? It turned out that he and a friend were lost, and a man took them all the way to the nearest subway. They realized then that they didn't have money to get a subway pass, so the same man gave them money to get onto the Metro. Okay. That sounds reasonable, but why do we assume (yes, me included sometimes) that God is good?

I thought about it, walking in the rain. I don't think that God is defined as good. Check out the first entry for God on Dictionary.com. Yes, like a dictionary would be the expert on God and related matters. But really, he could be sort of mean, not a devil (now a devil has a more precise definition) since the devil is defined as the opposite of God, but he could just be nonchalant. In our despair in life, I guess it's just more comforting to think that there is someone out there who is powerful and could make things right, who somehow made you suffer for a reason. Eventually, you will be rewarded. I don't have a problem with that, which makes me one of the optimistic race as well. Hah.