A Good Dose of Selective Amnesia

Everyone needs a good dose of selective amnesia. There's value in forgetting, specifically the not so good things we all encountered in life. 

We all experienced some pain and sadness in varying amounts and frequencies. The annoying thing is that these always return to your consciousness, sometimes, at the most importune timing. At your peaceful and silent moments, the past has a way of creeping up to your mind. Memories and remembering have that tendency. 

We all know that what is past is past, and what happened yesterday can no longer be reversed. But still, the past has a strong grasp on our hearts that we can't easily break loose. Maybe this power over us is due to regret and the desire to go back and change things. Moreover, it can be the wish for such things to never have happened. 

What should be done is to forget: there's a need for selective amnesia.

In one sense, the present and future are built on the past. The string of past tears and laughter is connected to who we are today. We may regret or resent the past, but we can't deny it. If we do, it's tantamount to a denial of one's self. It would be being dishonest. When you look at it from this view, the acceptance of the past is also the acceptance of one's self.

What we should remember is that we once lived in a certain way, made mistakes, was hurt, overcame the pain, and learned from them. What we should forget is the anger at the pain, the shame from being mistaken, and the dejection from having tripped or fallen. What we should remember is that we did the best we could,  made decisions we thought were right, and that we took our chances. What we should forget is the stigma of failure, the obsession over what could have been, and the chagrin from a mistaken decision. We should remember that we are not perfect, and we should forget that imperfection is a sin. 

How to get selective amnesia? 

Simple. 

Live, love, learn. Move forward. And watch good anime and read great books and manga. Drink good beer, eat good food. Just live and keep walking forward. It won't be bad to have someone walking besides you as well.

Remember  that forgetting is a blessing.

We all need a good dose of selective amnesia.

I Guess I Worry Too Much

I'm filled with doubts and lack of confidence.

When another's fate becomes connected with your own, you somehow get out of balance.  

I guess that's what happens when you've been too used to living life alone. It's one thing to be concerned with your own self, it's a totally different matter when you've got more than yourself to be concerned about. A lot of things change. 

I worry a lot--that's another reason. I worry about being good enough. I worry about being qualified. I worry about whether I can return the happiness. I worry, worry, and worry some more. 

I know that all this worrying can't be too good, but I can't help it. I worry all the same. 

This sounds like I'm complaining. It's as if I'm talking about a burden. One may think that I'm dealing with something troublesome. 

But that's not true at all. Not true at all. I'm saying this while shaking my head: that's not true at all. 

I'm presented with something beautiful, wonderful, and precious. That's why I worry. 

I worry about ruining it. I worry about being undeserving of it. I worry about my mistakes and failures. 

But then again, if I have time to worry, I should have time to better myself. 

If I have time to worry, I should have time to reflect and correct my actions. 

If I have time to worry, I'm better off spending that time giving happiness, no matter how slightly. 

I guess I worry too much. 

All this while, I should have been learning. 

So I won't worry too much. Just a little. 

Being too serious can be suffocating.

So I won't worry too much. Just a little. 

I would aim to improve. Aim to improve a lot. 

But still, I would worry. Even a little. Just not a lot. I can't help it. 

After all, I'm presented with something beautiful, wonderful, and precious. That's why I worry.


If you value something so much, it just can't be helped. 

Just a bit about living

It all begins with the idea that this is life. This is what there is. There's no other life but this life. When one realizes this, one becomes the prisoner who finally accepted the terms of his sentence, the chains shackled to his feet, and the bars that limit his walking space. The prisoner, who after years of hair-wrending, bar-biting, and heaven-cursing, will finally find the irony and humor in his placement. The prisoner learns his place, and would finish his sentence. As Camus said, just in that decision, the prisoner has given himself an absurd freedom. The prisoner gets to be free by choosing to spend his remaining time in incarceration. He gets to be above his fate, even though it's just existential masturbation. 

That's when everything starts. That's when the old, resented bars become new and interesting. That's when the hateful becomes curious. That's when the endless possibility for humor, irony, and sarcasm is born. That's when you find this world fun in a quasi-sick and somewhat sincere way. 

And so, you live. You live knowing all too well that it will lead to nothing. You live in chase for that smile and laughter, fleeing the tears and pain. You have to play the role of a human being, living life to the fullest since that would be the option least encumbered by the yokes of absurdity. You drink heavily the wine of existence, for it's better to be drunk in it and forget about your powerlessness regarding your forceful placement. You live, because the charm of the rebel has an expiration date. 

You begin to live, because you are shocked by the fact that what you know is but a microscopic particle of what existence has to offer. 

This is why I love people who seriously tried and got burned. My wish is to be among their number. 

Carpe Diem, The New Year, and The Last Will

The first day of the new year is a day of new beginnings. It's supposed to be filled with hope, enthusiasm, and good things to come: of warm fuzzy things and the excitement of new possibilities.

I agree with all of the things written above. But then, I have a different view of things. More of a morbid one.

I was writing my last will on the first day of the new year.

It's strange, isn't it? It's out of season, and even creepy.

Again, it's morbid, I know. But then, I have this strange urge to write it. I was thinking about Carpe Diem, seizing the day, or like the perpetual advice to live life like it's your last. I then thought, what if this is the last day of my life? Will they (the people who would take care of my corpse) know what I would like for my funeral? Would they know my ATM pin? My social security number? Would they know how to dispose of my stuff? If I am to think that any day could be my last, I need to be prepared.

But you can write your will at any other day; why do it in the first day of the new year? But if not now, then when? Plus, the antithesis between the first day of the year and the act of writing a will amused me greatly. It's the presence of irony that made me want to do it. Additionally, I'm not too big on New Year celebrations. This then led to other interesting thoughts.

Aside from the usual outlining of who to leave your stuff with, what kind of procedures you would like for your cadaver, and access to my very meager financial resources, I was hard-pressed to think of things to say to those I will leave behind. The truth is, I don't seem to have a lot of things to say aside from "Thank you" and "Sorry for the trouble." I was hoping for something more dramatic and cheesy to express, but all I could say were essentially those two phrases.

This lead to a very important realization: I tend to take things for granted. Is this living life "without appeal"? Surely, there's more to be said. There's more to be expressed, more to be made evident. Surely. And even if there's none to be said, there's still time to form new words. Surely. Writing your last will on the first day of the year just means you get to know outright whether it needs some editing along the way.

It was a creepy undertaking (no pun intended), but still entertaining and amusing. If this activity  was good for anything, then at least it must be that.