The 30-day mental fast

What is a mental fast?

A mental fast is a detox to the mind, the way a physical fast is a detox to the body. I learned about the mental fast, one sunny day when I popped a Jerry Clark audio on my drive to Ortigas.

It sounds simple enough, just 8 steps. And it promises a great return in 30 days. With the physical fast, you withhold food from your body to accommodate a cleanse and to sort of reset your bodily processes. With the mental fast, this is what you do for 30 days straight:

1. No TV
2. No Radio
3. No Newspaper
4. 8 glasses of water, 30 minutes of exercise everyday
5. Avoid negative people
6. Associate with positive people
7. Read  inspirational, motivational books for a mnimum of 20 minutes everyday
8. Reflect everyday for 20 minutes.

Today is my third attempt at Day 1 (please don't judge meee.) To be honest, I'm doing pretty well on some things - radio, newspaper, 8 glasses of water, negative people, positive people, and reading. To be even more honest, these are things I've already been doing prior to the fast.

To be even more honest it's not funny anymore, I'm having a bitch of a time with the TV time. My shows and I go way back and in a twisted way, it has sort of become an emotional thing. Totally eliminating it from my daily diet is like going cold turkey on a longtime tobacco habit. It probably is more severe or less severe than I put it out to be, I have no way of knowing. But in any case, this is where I fall short.

Fourth attempt at Day 1 tomorrow? :)

Henry Nouwen on Writing

I'm closing in on the last chapter of what may be my most favorite book to date. I've been on Philip Yancey's "Soul Survivor" for a month now and it has been an unbelievable experience reading his work. As is always the case with me and reading great books, I'm awash with a recognizable sadness that the "journey" of reading the book is about to end.

This entry will be one of many (many many) entries I will writing about the great people, ideas, and fresh paradigms this book has gifted me with.This nugget on writing comes much later in the book, in the last chapter actually. But it resonated so much with me I cannot wait to not write about it.

This is Philip Yancey on the last chapter of the book talking about Henry Nouwen:

I read many books over the years before meeting him in person. Nouwen has been accused of having had no unpublished thought, and indeed some of his thoughts have been published more than once in different forms, and sometimes in booklets dressed up to look like books. Nevertheless, he served me as a wise older brother, a pioneer who nimbly explored trails of thought I found myself eager to follow.

"Somehow I believed that writing was one way to let something of lasting value emerge from my little, quickly passing life," Nouwen once wrote, a sentiment that expresses what every writer feels. Writing was an act of discovery for his as well as for his readers.

***
This is a direct quote from "Soul Survivor," which also directly quotes from Nouwen's "Reflections on Theological Education":

Most students think that writing means writing down ideas, insights, visions. They feel that they must first have something to say before they can put it down on paper. For them writing is little more than recording  a pre-existent thought. But with this approach true writing is impossible. Writing is a process in which we discover what lives in us. The writing itself reveals what is alive... The deepest satisfaction of writing is precisely what it opens up new spaces within us of which we were not aware before we started to write. To write is to embark on a journey whose final destination we do not know.

The Inbetweeners US (2012)

IfoundanewshowIfoundanewshow!

I was tinkering with eztv last week and was curiously googling some TV show titles. Fall Season TV opened about a month ago and TVland is abuzz once again (don't those 2 words feel so textbook-y? I digress.) with a handful of shiny new shows.

The Inbetweeners US: Simon, Will, Neil Sutherland, & Jay

One show I googled was The Inbetweeners US. The premise of the show is this - you have the jocks, you have the nerds, and when you're not any of those, you have the inbetweeners.

Apparently, The Inbetweeners was a critically-acclaimed award-winning British serires that ran in the UK from 2008 to 2010. The 2012 show has US at the end to tell it apart from the UK one. I read the premise of the show and I did not have any feelings about the show. I was not definite that I disliked it but I also wasn't excited about the idea.

Then the Wikipedia page mentioned that the writer penning the US version (Brad Copeland for MTV) also wrote for "Arrested Development" and "My Name is Earl." Never watched Earl before but I am a big fan of AD. Arrested Development was genius! If I remember right, one TV critic (or was it just TV Guide? haha) said before that AD introduced a brand new kind of humor to television and inspired the likes of (multiple Emmy-winner) 30 Rock. If AD writers wrote Inbetweeners then I thought, it must be gooood.

The Inbetweeners US is the kinda show that grows on you. It makes you smile to yourself cos it reminds you about high school and how both stupid and fragile you were haha. After watching 3 episodes, I just knew I will be watching the show to the end of the short season. 

Will McKenzie moves from a private school to public high school. Will is stiff and awkward, wears pressed shirts with ties to school and has zero skills to survive in a public high school. He gets thrown into a group of boys who reluctantly but eventually embrace him into the group.  He takes himself so seriously and it's funny cos nobody else does.


Simon Cooper is the first person Will meets in his new high school, Grove High. He gets assigned by Principal Gilbert to show Will around so he reluctantly obliges. Simon is the group's softie, his high school life revolves around this pretty girl Carly, whom he's had a crush on since forever. He also drives the "muppet yellow" car, the unofficial group ride and quiet witness to their many many happy adventures.

Jay Cartwright is the self-proclaimed leader of the group. He is obsessed about sex and always talks in cliches and made up sex stories. He thinks he is leading the group to "coolness" (he is not.) He is also working very very very hard to be the school class clown. He has very little credibility and he always claims that he "doesn't lie."



Neil Sutherland is the ditz. He's my favorite cos he plays dumb crazy gooood. (It kinda makes me wonder if he is actually ditzy or he's just really good. Either way, works for the show.) Plus he's cute! Neil is chill and relaxed and how you want to be like when on vacation except - that's how he is on a daily basis. He's the kind of person you can't offend even you work really hard to. To Neil, everything's cool - just don't call his dad gay.
 
Considering high school has been milked of all possible entertainment value - humor, drama, coming of age, etc. - The Inbetweeners US is surprisingly entertaining. The show happily avoids the trap of making stories be about the glorious triumph of the "uncool" kids and their transition to "coolness."

The inbetweeners don't become cool. They try very hard to, but as real life usually goes, they don't succeed very much. I guess that's part of the show's charm. The show is a happy retelling of the misadventures of inbetweeners and how things go down in the "in between."

It's funny and stupid and honest and an endearing reminder of youth. And the perks of youth and your infinite free passes to stupid decisions. And how fleeting it is. Haha. Watch it!

No Super Punch

I felt like I had to hear it. Stories let the lessons sink deep so you don't forget.

***

Marlon said he would settle for no less than a knock out. He was 11 and in the heat of the semifinals of a contact sport, karate. He fought many matches and won all of them - by knock out. He was in the semis because he beat about 10 or so boys by knocking them out.

His "move" was going for the temple hit - sure knock out, he thought.

He took his place on the mat and the match began. He vowed no body shots - only temple hits for the knock out. His ego said body shots are cheap shots. Cheap shots are for the weak. And the players who win by knock out win by hitting the temple with one big "super punch."

While he was busy waiting for the perfect timing for his super punch, his opponent took the time giving him body shots. One body shot after another. Marlon gave no body shot, he only put his guards up, and went on to wait for the perfect timing for his knock out shot, his super punch.

A few rounds into the match, he started to feel his insides cramping up. All the opponent's body shots were taking their toll. Marlon's body was shutting down from all the body shots he received.

Marlon didn't see the game to the end. Next thing he knew, he woke up at home. He never found the "perfect" timing for his knock out super punch. His opponent evidently won, by taking the more consistent, and as Marlon calls it, "cheap" body shots.

***


I've heard the "no super punch" moral of the story many times over. Yet, now and then, I realize I think that way still - path of least resistance, I guess. After all, other people's successes always seem like they were won that way - with the one winning "super punch."

I guess that's how the non-winners always see it. We see the ending, the one last hurrah, the icing to the cake. The non-winners rarely get acquainted with the dirty word - consistency. We hear a lot about talent, and luck, and timing. Maybe we hear about consistency too, but we are too preoccupied all the other glamorous ideas, we pay little attention to the things that matter more.

More than for anyone, this story is for me. This story is to remind me that everything counts; that everything I do either moves me forward or takes me back; that there is no action with no consequence.

This is to remind me that small everyday disciplines as well as small everyday errors in judgment add up to the final score. That there is no one magical stroke of luck to turn things around in the same way there is no one unlucky twist of fate that will be the one determining factor to my end result. Everything adds up.

Champions do not become champions when they win the event, but in the hours, weeks, months, and years they spend preparing for it. The victorious performance itself is merely the demonstration of their championship character.

Dan in Real Life saves the day :)

I've been chasing the happy high (no worries, not through narcotics haha) for a while and always been coming up empty handed. Last night, girl got a break :)

I was decided on spending a quiet evening at home to finish my current book which I've been reading for 3 weeks already. (Btw, great book, will write on a separate post.) I put the book down for a while, took a break and started with just fixing stray files on a random folder on the laptop. I ended up going full on OC on my music folder file.

I started playing some audio files to identify which folders to put them to. Next thing I know, I was on a trip down musical memory lane! It was amazing how much feelings and memories are ever so vividly brought back by a familiar song :)

I tinkered with a folder labeled "Dan in Real Life Soundtrack". (Sidebar: I LOVED that movie bigtime. I went through a phase in college when the only movies/books that I thought were cool were the ones with sad endings. Angsty was my favorite word then haha.)

I played this song "Modern Nature" song by Sondre Lerche. I forgot how much I LOVED Sondre Lerche! Back then, it was like stumbling into musical goldmine - they were a super obscure musical act, they made a soundtrack to a relatively unknown movie, and their music actually sounded great. It was slow, and fluffy, and heartfelt, and sad, and the just the right amount of pop and country. And just all kinds of cool!

I closed my eyes for a bit and it was like 5/6 years ago! I had an iPod Shuffle back in college and I would always have my earphones on on my commute to and from school. When the song played, it was like I was brought back to THAT time when I was 19! That time when I was in college and felt super cool and super smart and super certain. Life was good then. I LOVED 19. 19 was a great age.

I didn't expect the surge of happiness that the music brought. I also found music from Sponge Cola and Silent Sanctuary circa '07, that Toploader song "Dancing in the Moonlight", The Cure's "Just Like Heaven" (my ALL TIME favorite song), Bloc Party's "This Modern Love", One Tree Hill and HIMYM music (Nada Surf's "Always Love" FTW!), and my ultimate release-your-anger song, Moonpools and Caterpillar's "Soon." These were the songs I had playing day in, day out through the tail end of college. Good times.

I had to make a Let Me Make You Smile mix :) haha. Thank you great music.

Breaking the ice/dusting the cobwebs, etc.

I feel like I'm lost in my own head.

Wow. Like words to a (cool) song. I'd love to say that I meant it in a very poetic, very profound way - but really, I just feel (can I say literally?) that way. The next few things I will say will probably sound so annoyingly pretentious (I will plead it's just honesty, but judge away, anyway).. I'm just hoping this little hint of self-awareness assuages it a bit.

There are no feelings. Like you're right smack in the center of the woods and any way you take will take you just about the same time to get back to place familiar to you. Like any way you take is pretty much fair game.

I feel like I'm right smack in the center of neutrality in my head. I'm not closer to happy than I am to sad. I'm not closer to anger than I am to whatever feeling is opposite of anger.

(Interestingly, I read this morning from a book called "The Book of Useless Information (things you didn't think you need to know - and probably don't)" that the most used word in conversation is "I". And I probably used up my quota only 100 words into this entry.)

I have several things I want to write about. My lazy butt reasons that I haven't found "the" writing timing to sit down and make sense of my messy thoughts. I am writing today so I break the ice/dust the cobwebs/insert similar symbolism about starting again, etc.

So forgive the brain farts I passed as "thoughts that merit a blog post". Consider this stretching prior to an easy 10K :)

p.s. I am trying to discipline myself to avoid tweeting random cryptic stuff (that most of the time don't mean anything OR mean something less profound than they seem). This is to train me to write, to train me to think to pursue trains of thought, and maybe develop some delayed gratification. (Nothing cripples ability to practice delayed gratification better than that small surge of (fleeting) happiness a witty 140-character tweet allows you.)

The entry I wrote instead of tweeting random cryptic stuff that don't really mean anything

I've deleted 2 opening lines before I actually succeeded in opening this entry. So um, hello. I've been meaning to write for about 2 weeks now.

I've been writing and rewriting and composing (albeit unsuccessfully) this entry in my head I entitled "Para kanino ka bumabangon?" It sounds so much better in my head. Now that's it's written down, it sounds a little too melodramatic.

I've been meaning to talk about big things, grown up stuff in that entry. Feeling ko parang breakthrough piece - the kind that after writing, I'll be on my feet, working on fixing my life, knowing exactly what to do. But for reasons I do not have a grip on, I cannot, for the love of all good things, bring myself to write!

Maybe it's so much more than writing that entry? Maybe I honestly do not like to sit down to try to write that entry because I'm scared that if I don't know the answers to my own questions I'm screwed? Who knows? (Maybe me? I'm just too chicken to man the fxck up and have the balls to live with the answers? Why am I using too many question marks?)

So while I'm cooking up reasons why I am NOT writing, I am spending an obscene amount of time looking at this person's picture,  where else - but on a pretty Facebook profile picture. I am happy to report that I get many kinds of happy feelings looking at this person's picture. A little too happy I am embarrassed. Nah, embarrassed is too fluffy a description. I get too happy I am awashed by shame. (Douchey?)

(From this point on I will be talking about my feelings for this boy, okay? Notice how I subtly steered the stories to this boy - okay, maybe not that subtly. No apologies, tho. Not to say I am not not embarrassed.)

We shall dub thee, boy in question, Baby Boy. I've been talking about Baby Boy for quite a while now. It's gone to embarrassing lengths how I try to ~subtly (at least I think I do subtly) insert him in random conversations with my friends. It's been a few months of staring from afar, catching sly glances, and embarrassed exchanges of mumbled hi's and hello's - never decent conversation, never clear audible hello's, never brave eye contact and grown up acknowledgement of each other. Boo.

Thing is, I don't even know him. I only have a vague idea of how his voice sounds like, and well, that's about how much I know about him. My affection is solely anchored on uh.. his pretty face. Oh oh, and how dapper he looks in plaid, pressed shirts! That's uh, how very deep my personal knowledge and friendship with him is.

The million dollar question still begs for an answer - why on earth can I still NOT shake off this giddy grade school flush I get when I think about him/ see him? Gah. Medyo di na makatarungan that he eats up this much brain space - shet, spoken like a true blue thirteen-year old slash full-fledged high school girl!

A part of me wants to share my secret wish pag 11:11. But a bigger part of me is embarrassed lol. So tonight, adult decision making wins, no self-incriminating sharing. Let's see if I will find enough courage to spill in my next writing binge.

I'm wrapping this up as this writing binge has done its job of helping me get rid of all these weird, unexplained feelings in my tummy - did not say found explanations, answers to questions, etc, etc. I just know I will keep trying to ~subtly insert Baby Boy in (all) my random conversations. I know I will keep trying to man up, pull together a decent smile - with teeth, and say an audible hello, and maybe fail for the most part. I know I will keep plotting ways so we walk by each other, accidentally "bump" into each other, and other things I will not say will be 'beyond' me.

As is evidenced by this large chunk of time I spent binge writing about this, Baby Boy evidently, will be enjoying a lot of airtime/screentime in my brain.

That said, I am now ready to hit the hay.

The Story of the Persian Smuggler

So thankful for the privilege to hear this story shared by Sandy last Saturday. It's so simple and so powerful. Sharing this wonderful story.

***

The Story of the Persian Smuggler
A long time ago there was a notorious Persian smuggler. He would cross borders regularly, bringing with him many and different goods on camels.

Every time he would cross the borders, the government would take great pains to go through all the goods on the camels, taking every effort to find the smuggled goods. Every time, they do not find any.

Time came when the Persian Smuggler retired. Out of curiosity, the government asked him. Since he's retired and government cannot pursue any case against him for lack of evidence, the government wanted to know where her hid the smuggled goods.

The Persian Smuggler said, "That's easy. The goods were the CAMELS."

Thank You For Being My Best Friend

Thank You For Being My Best Friend

May. 8, 2012

By Mila Jaroniec

Dear Best Friend,

I originally wanted to write you a letter about why you’re my best friend and saturate it with all the generic reasons and adorable anecdotes, but I’m not going to do that because you already know why you’re my best friend, duh. If you didn’t, we probably wouldn’t have remained friends all these years. Ten years? Thirteen? I actually have no idea.

Of course I don’t — I have no concept of time whatsoever. If it were up to me no one’s birthday or graduation or other important event would be remembered, because that’s the type of person I am; I can’t make it anywhere on time, or even on day, and I tend to forget where I’m going to begin with. But you remember things like this, and you know exactly how long we’ve been best friends. That will be the first thing you tell me after you read this. Thank you for knowing that. Thank you for knowing all the things I don’t.

Thank you for always being closest to me even when we were in separate time zones and separate stages of life. Thank you for not letting us get split by dumb facts like distance or time. Thank you for never giving up on our friendship, for never shrugging and being like “Eh, things change, people change” and drifting away vaguely because we’re victims of circumstance. We all get distant to a certain degree when we make huge transitions but you didn’t let me get very far because you knew what was truly important.

Thank you for taking care of me in every way possible, for being there when no one else was or wanted to be and when you didn’t even have to be. Everyone has those friends who are close but not really; who you always feel kind of awkward and weird about asking for help and like you have to clarify you’ll do them some kind of favor in return, but you’re not one of those. You never got mad when I didn’t call you for weeks on end because I was too busy being someone’s girlfriend, but you were right there to pick up my heart-splinters when things predictably shattered. You were and are there for everything, no bargaining or explanations needed.

Thank you for being a different friend than everyone else, different from the friends who are only there for the fun things, the art museums and shopping and benders and brunch. I’ve never been to an art museum with you because I’m sure we would end up arguing over whether or not Basquiat was any good, and we both know going on a bender isn’t worth it because you always pass out first, but I still feel like I can do anything with you and it won’t suck. Thank you for always being fun even when we’re not having fun. I don’t know how else to explain that.

Thank you for believing in me when I was too weak and exhausted to believe in myself. Thank you for pushing me, for repeating those affirmations that don’t mean anything in inspirational films but mean everything when someone who cares about you says them. Thank you for not judging me when I did something really stupid, but also thanks for telling me I was an idiot and probably shouldn’t have done the stupid thing. Thank you for always being honest.

Thank you for doing all the things a real best friend does; for letting me sob into your shoulder when I need to and handing me the flask when there aren’t any more words. Thank you for always knowing who I am and reminding me of that when I forget. Thank you for being genuinely concerned with the outcome of my life and always listening, even when you’re tired. Thank you for telling me the things no one wants to hear and sparing the bullshit advice. I can’t think of many other people I’d actually take a bullet for.

And yeah, I know everyone likes to make grand emotional claims like that in Courier typeface against some Polaroid of a lonely lamppost, but the difference is I’d actually do it.

Love always,
Your Best Friend

Those who dwell, don't do well

"When you accept that life is difficult, it's not as difficult anymore."

A few days ago, I learned of a new way to look at things. It was so commonsensical, it was a little funny listening to it. It was something I thought I understood, by default. But it hit some raw nerves, and it was a bit painful. It was painful, which is why I think it stuck.

Why is David Beckham very successful in soccer?

David Beckham is very successful in soccer because accepted the fact that he cannot use his hands to play soccer. He didn't whine that the game was unfair -- that he can't touch the ball with his hands, that it's difficult to play without touching the ball with his hands, yadda yadda.

Instead, he focused on getting better at handling the ball with his legs, with his head, with his body and not with his hands.

He wasn't a bitch about it. That's why he got so good.

Why is Michael Jordan very successful in basketball?

Michael Jordan is one of the greatest basketball players ever because he lived with the fact that there will always be a shot clock, that there will always be very good players trying to block him every time he attempts to shoot the ball, that there will be people in the audience who will boo him when he tries to shoot a free throw, that there will be lines on the court that will restrict areas where he can play. He understood that he has to accept these things if he wants to be great at basketball.

He didn't dwell on the things that are part of the game, he accepted them. He lived with them and worked his ass off to become very good in basketball.

My take away? Things you can't control  versus the things you can control. Control the things you can control and the things out of your control? Accept that they are out of your control. And stop the f**k trying to control them. It only brings unnecessary frustration.

The rules are very simple - but with the way we are wired, following them is a different story.

Becks  and MJ may or may not know the rules, but they sure followed the heck outta them.