The Most Phenomenal Fact

My Symphonies: 

  • Chandelier / Sia
  • Collapse / Vancouver Sleep Clinic
  • Flaws / Vancouver Sleep Clinic
  • Poison&Wine / The Civil Wars
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Kenn Edward Tenorio. 22 and notoriously crazy.

You know what the most phenomenal fact is? The most phenomenal fact in my life and in the world that I live in? The most phenomenal fact about everything and everyone that I have ever crossed paths with?

The most phenomenal fact, ladies and gentlemen, is that I am right now sitting here and  writing to you with the knowledge that when it comes down to it, this life is my own and that there’s no one else to be thanked or blamed. It is the knowledge that time is ticking away like a madman with every breath that I take; the knowledge that I am tiny and enormous at the same time, because of how the universe and this planet came to be billions of years ago. It is the knowledge that a day will come when none of this will really matter. Do you know how depressing and brilliantly liberating that is? To know that you can write and express your raw thoughts and articulate your raw emotions to a blank space without having to worry about the great future significance of whatever the hell it is that you are writing? Let me tell you: it’s motherfucking great.

You know how in movies the main character starts narrating his story through a voice-over while the opening credits are being flashed on the screen? That’s kind of how I feel right now. I feel like my life is on its opening credits, and here I am talking to an inanimate object so that people will later on hear what I have to say. I think it’s one part of being a writer. A lot of great writers in the history of literature didn’t get to see their work earn millions of dollars and millions of readers because they passed away before that happened. It’s depressing and also wonderful, I think. And I’m not saying that I am the next Sylvia Plath or Ernest Hemingway, I’m just saying that I am a fucking boy living in this sort of fucked-up but somehow amazing planet, and I am feeling somewhere in between alive and dying at the moment.

I am not naive, and I am not dumb. Well, sometimes I act like I am. Well, most of the time, actually. It’s actually like a form of self-entertainment for me. But I’m not naive or dumb. I know that I am often lost, and people always feel the need to put some sense into my head. You know what, let me tell you something rather explosive:

I am notoriously crazy, in the fiercest sense of the word. I am a lot of things, and people know that. For starters, I hate society. I’ve always been a nonconformist, but it’s not because I wanna stand out. In fact, the major reason why I hate society is that I know that it doesn’t exist. Society is a state of mind. It’s not like someone just woke up one day and decided he was gonna invent society and then Hello, bitches! Here I am! Yours Truly, Society xoxoxo! No. Nobody just simply got bored one morning and thought of ways to create society. Society is really all in the mind, and I am aware that as long as I hate society, I am self-injecting its existence into my life. It’s almost like acknowledging the fact that it is still somehow stronger than I am.

So in a way, going against “society” is like battling my own demons inside of me. It’s like telling that part of your thoughts that you don’t enjoy to get the hell out and go fuck itself. And I’m telling you, it’s not easy.

It’s not easy to have to walk along the streets and exchange hi’s and hello’s with people who may or may not be aware of the same things that you are aware of. I mean, I am not judging anyone. We are all different because had we all been similar to each other, the world wouldn’t be as alive and interesting as it is right now. We all make up this kaleidoscopic world, where each of us plays his or her role in the affairs of the universe. So it’s not that I want people to think the way I do, it’s simply that I wanna be heard. Sometimes. Like today.

All I’m saying is, there are so many facets to me that not a lot of people understand.

I am the friend they love to hate. Because I am so unapologetically expressive, and I am loud, and I am outgoing, and I am unpredictable, and I am hyperactive and sometimes unreasonably enthusiastic. And I do things that they take as an insult simply because we do not all share the same values and priorities. Sometimes I do things that I believe are fun but are already grave and derogatory for some people.

I am the whiny misunderstood bitch who’s lazy and erratic like hell. Because that’s just how I am. I am honestly either the best or the worst companion. I don’t do anything half-ass, and I think that I have established that. I like extremes, and I really just live in the moment. I am ill. I can be vindictive and irrational. I can be very over-the-top with anything that I do. I piss people off, and it’s usually the people I am truly close with. Because when I am really close with someone, I tend to show them all parts of me. I don’t spare them the gory details. Why should I? Do you have any idea how rare it is to find real friends nowadays? Real lovers? even understanding family members? Let me tell you, it’s effing hard. So when you know for a fact that this or that person gets you, and you feel like you’ve both connected to that point where you can share anything with them, even your deepest darkest secrets? You let loose. You let go, and then you explode. You let them watch your lava pouring and skyrocketing all over the place. I don’t know about you, but I like to think of every day as the last day I get. That’s why I love the extremes. I always try my hardest to live on the edge because really, there’s no other place I’d rather live but on the highway and the fast lanes of my own little world. People always say things like, oh my gosh I can’t wait for my bucket list to get crossed out entirely. Or Someday, I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna fuck this shit and live the life that I want to live. Or Someday, my life will be great. Not today, nope. But someday, I am gonna be fucking rich/famous/significant. Someday I’m gonna change the world. Someday I am gonna meet the man of my dreams and I am gonna marry the fuck out of him. Because someday I am so gonna be in love that none of the gods can do anything about it. Someday I am gonna be happy. Someday I am gonna get a dog and walk him in the park where I can say that hey, I have a stable 9-5 job and I have a 6-digit income, so look at me being so fly at the park walking my super expensive dog along with the other stable people here. Like, one day, I am gonna be living my dream. I am gonna be an inspiration to others one day. Maybe next year, I’ll go on a trip to Rio where I can finally go crazy and be myself without being judged like I do in my tiny little hometown. Maybe next month, I can finally do this and that. And maybe, in the next decade or so, I can finally go on a hot-air balloon ride in light of my Bucket List Crossing Out Event.

Fuck.

It’s always Someday. That Someday, I tell you. Damn. It’s your worst enemy. Does anyone else out there wonder deeply about this sick obsession of people about the future?

Look at your friends. Look at your lovers. Your family. Your brothers, sisters, your batchmates in high school, in elementary, your workmates, your boss. Your community leaders. Et freaking cetera…. Everyone is so attached to this idea that someday, life will be good. The idea that someday, all of the hardwork and the sacrifices and the endless burning of the midnight oil will finally pay off. A bright motherfucking future. That’ what everyone cares about these days.

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In beauty pageants, one question that never goes out of style is this:

If there is one thing you could change about the world, what would it be and why?

I’m telling you, one day I’m gonna join the fucking Miss Universe just so I get the chance to be asked that question and I will say (and no I won’t be giving any amount of fucks about the time limit or how the crowd’s gonna react or if they shut the cameras down, coz I’m just gonna explode):

Thank you for that wonderful question, Ms. Someone Who Is Supposed to be Worldly Significant Enough For Me To Shake Out of Nervousness Because It’s Supposed to be a Big Deal. 🙂 (of course, I’ll be smiling the entire time because that’s how a Miss Universe contestant should act, right? They should always be skinny and smiling, as if representing the universe is all about that.) If there is one thing that I could change about the world, it would be the way humanity worships the future. Like honestly, that’s the only thing I would like to change about this world. I just wish we could all give less of a damn about what the eff will happen next month, next year, or 5 years later. Why is it always about the future? You always hear “Someday, I will be happy” but you never really hear someone saying “Right now, I am happy. This is great. This is amazing. I feel alive”. Tell me you hear or read that across social media sites on a daily basis and I’ll be the first bitch to axe-kick you across the face to wake you the fuck up. Because nobody says that. Nobody believes in the present anymore, when it’s technically the ONLY thing that we are certain about. Why can’t the HERE and NOW be amazing? Why does it always have to be a trip around the world  or a job promotion or money that will make you happy? And why does it always have to be SOMEDAY? I’m sick of that word, actually. Someday is the worst scammer you will ever encounter in your life. Sure, you can choose to believe so tightly in the future, but what if none of what is on your bucket list happens? What? You’re never gonna be happy then? That you’re gonna die sad and miserable because you didn’t get to do all those fancy things that you were once so sure were gonna happen? I mean seriously, ladies and gents. Look around you. You are all breathing and you all have a reason to believe that right now is the best time to live, because this is the current time that we are in. For a change, try focusing on the now. I don’t know about you, but now is lovely. Now is beautiful. Now is birds chirping, now is oceans running deep, now is breathing and caring and dancing and loving. Now is friendships that are flourishing, now is rivers rushing. Now is fireworks and parachutes and gummy bears and pugs. Someday isn’t the time. NOW is the time. Now is literally the only time that you are alive. Okay? And yes, three servings of STL for me at the backstage after this please, thankyouverymuch!

And you know what else? 

The most phenomenal fact is that I get to live these days with you even when I know that we aren’t meant to be together. Look at me. And then look at you. We are two different people with ideals sitting on the opposite ends of the spectrum.

I am happy, though. You know I always am when I am with you. It’s kind of hard to rationalize what we have because everyone knows that what we have is anything but rational. But you know what? I am fucking grateful. Being with you has taught me a great deal about myself and about love. Being with you has made me look at the tiniest of things and feel like I can still hold on to them. Being with you has proven that even air and water can make a wonderful harmony at one point… even just at one point. Remember that night I told you that this is the kind of love that can kill us? The kind of love that can bleed and maybe never heal? I meant that. I realize that in this crazy world, it is possible for two people to have a connection so strong and so real that no amount of hardcore differences and hardcore battles can make them let go so easily. When two people have a really strong bond, it takes more than just a heated argument or a Bible-thick list of differences to make them realize that they should let go. And that’s what it’s like with you…

We make hurricanes, thunders, lightnings and earthquakes, but I love that.

I love that for now, I get to kiss you good-night and see your lazy face in the mornings. I love that for now, when I look into your eyes, I still see the you I fell in love with. I love that for now, I get to hug you and smell your natural scent right down your neck. I love that I get to laugh with you, and smile with you over the stupidest things. I love that I still get to reach for your hand in the dark and feel them open up, like a flower in the dawn of Spring. And I love that for now, you are mine and I am yours, and in this little tiny world of Here and Now that I built inside my head, we are forever. I know that forever doesn’t exist in the long run, but it does exist in the present. That’s how I feel, and that’s how I have been feeling with you… Call me crazy, but I am glad I am. Because if I weren’t, I wouldn’t be here… I wouldn’t  be here breathing the same air as you. And I probably wouldn’t be the one you gave your heart to at this point in your life.

Your mouth is the mouth that says the harshest things to me, and the same mouth that kisses me.

Your eyes are the eyes that look down on me, and the same eyes that say how much I’m loved.

Your hands are the hands that brutally give me bruises, and the same hands that delicately hold mine.

Your arms are the arms that push me away, and the same arms that keep me close to your chest at night.

Your mind is the mind that doubts me, that hates me, that kills me. And the same mind that believes in me, that loves me, that thinks I’m alive.

And if that Someday will come when you think you’ve had enough of this plethora of mess that is myself, and you decide to let go, know that I truly do love you. You know how I know that? Because I’ve always known this was irrational, but it never mattered. I genuinely didn’t give a single heck about how messy, and how irrational, and how crazy this was because for once, I wanted to experience how it really is to FALL. How it really is to love someone not for the good times, but for the whole package – the good, the bad, the ugly and the brutally grotesque.

I know we do not have a tomorrow, but today is still here. And I am here while it lasts, my love.

The most phenomenal fact is that I don’t love you, but I always will………………… 

This is a Hate Rant

My Symphony: The Way Home by Sleep Dealer

love_hate_by_Notokhelena

Taken from my personal journal, dated Sept. 11th, 2012

I walk along the road right in front of my house every morning, and I see little kids playing, sledding, running and laughing, and they all look like they have life all figured out. They all look like they don’t have any problems or any greater wants and needs other than fun, love and friendship. And so everyday, I would take a moment to observe these kids and I would think to myself, “These kids will grow up someday. And someday, these kids will have the same problems that I have now. They will get hurt, and they will change, and they will go their separate ways, and they will have their hearts broken.”

I always thought life was so much simpler and easier when I was little. Probably the biggest problem I had as a kid was the fact that I didn’t really have a lot of playmates. But that wasn’t really that big of a problem. I would just sit alone in my room and talk to my toys, or lie in my bed and pretend that I was floating through great numbers of clouds. But growing up? Growing up has made things a whole lot convoluted – growing up has fucked me over. It has scared the living daylights out of me.

The last time I remember I was genuinely happy was when I was ten and playing with sand and stones at a construction site. I was just this pure, genuine, blissful entity. I didn’t know much about politics, the government, society and all that comes with it. But I was always smiling.

I don’t know what happened. Oh, I remember! Life happened.

I look at myself in the mirror and each time, I am just disgusted of who I’ve become. But no, not really. I actually think that I am a way better person now than I was for the past 18 years.

If I could tell my young self one thing, it is to “go fuck yourself!” Every time I remember the awful things I’ve done to my friends, my family and my lovers, I just can’t help but regret how evil and shallow I was. I regret being a disloyal, self-absorbed friend. I regret breaking so many people’s trust and friendship. I regret the fact that I’ve never really been genuinely in love with anyone in my past, but acted like I was. I regret not being appreciative of the love and the care that my friends and family gave me. I just do. I regret all of it. Because now? Now I know what it’s like to be taken for granted. I know what it’s like to hurt so much that I can’t even sleep at night without having thoughts of how I’m so worthless and of how I deserve every bit of heartache that I’m feeling right now. Shit!

So… hate. What is it that I hate?

I hate people who come and go just like that! I hate how you can talk to someone for hours and the next thing you know he’s just ignoring you like you’re an insignificant piece of shit. I hate people who are so caught up in their past that the people in their present suffer because of it. I hate people who don’t think they deserve to be loved. Like, seriously, what is that?! I think that’s bullshit! It’s bullshit because there are actually people, like me, who believe in you! People who actually care about you. And you just shrug us all off your shoulders because you think no one can be trusted? Because you think we’re all the same? Because you think people are temporary? Well let me tell you one thing – you’re the one who’s temporary! Gawd, I just hate this. I hate people who are selfish about their feelings – people who just can’t seem to let anyone love them, and just love them back. I hate it because it sucks! It sucks that you feel so connected to someone but then all of a sudden fear, and ego, and society, and whatever crap it is, come into the picture and destroy what could’ve been a genuine human-to-human relationship.

I think that the way the majority view life is simply disgusting. People always say “Oh! That’s life. It’s normal. People leave, new ones come. And you move on!” Well I think that’s just ridiculous. Because I know that I am someone who actually learned to value people – friends and family, especially. I have learned that true love and true friendship don’t happen everyday. They’re rare. And I learned all this the hard way.

Now I know why people are so sad and lonely. People are sad and lonely because they are a bunch of cowards! They are alone because they are so focused on money, career, success, fame, or that feeling of being “cool and awesome and accomplished”. But fuck that! Even if I die young and unaccomplished, I will die happy because I at least managed to actually be honest to myself and to people about my feelings and of who I am.

I am convinced that this is me – this is who I am. I write a lot, I read a lot, I think a lot. I am moody, I am emotional, I am melodramatic. I have a messy, un-styled wavy black hair, I don’t do sports, I don’t have ripped muscles, I don’t like action movies, I indulge in a lot of over-feeling and over-analyzing, I drink too much coffee in the morning, I don’t own a mansion by the ocean, I tend to come across as weird and quirky but in a creepy way, I despise the taste of beer, I am erratic, restless and yes, maybe I care about things and people a little too much and too often. And I can be many other different things, but I do know what I’m not: I am not numb, and I am not insensitive. And I may not be everything, but at least when I tell someone I’m a friend I actually mean it. And if you think that that’s not enough – that I’m not enough – then that’s just too damn bad for you.

I was that person before, and I hated him. As a matter of fact I still do.

So to all the people whom I’ve considered friends but decided that I’m just another speck of dust on the floor, I don’t know where you are, or what’s going through your minds right now, but I think that you should be ashamed of yourselves. You really should.

Life’s too short for me to waste my time with selfish little self-absorbed assholes.

This is a Love Rant

My Symphony: Walk In the Park by Beach House

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Taken from my personal journal, dated Sept. 4th, 2012

I’ve always believed that I am someone who is capable of love, and I probably always will. Even as a child, my mother told me I already had so much affection and sincerity in my eyes. But I think that after the things I’ve been through as a teenager, my view on love has changed as much as have changed. You know, I used to think love was easy, that it entailed all of the bright, marvelous things and everything else which is peachy (e.g. bunnies, butterflies, flowers, chocolates, heart figures and jellybeans… or whatever). But apparently, just when I thought I had love figured out, reality bitch slaps me across the face and leaves me wondering if I’ve ever really come to know, understand and feel love on the first place.

I’m not going to deny it – I am a sucker for love. Since I was fourteen, I had always been in relationships. Non-stop. As soon as one ended, I immediately got involved in another one, and it was all a never-ending cycle of what I believed were lasting relationships.

It doesn’t mean that it has been easy. It wasn’t easy. A lot of things about my past relationships were hard (or maybe difficult is the right word to use… or maybe at this point it doesn’t really matter). So yeah. Things were hard. It was hard that they all started and ended, it was hard that I had to move on literally thirteen times, and it was hard having to bear with the momentary feeling of being unworthy of a real relationship. But the hardest part, I think, was the series of nights and days when I was just spacing out, wondering if I would ever feel that feeling again — that feeling of being looked after, of being valued, of being thought about; the feeling that someone actually genuinely wants to get to know you, to be there for you no matter what.

Over the past six years of my life, I had my own share of grief, joy, laughter, sorrow, pain, pleasure and wonder all because of love. Love, love, love.

It hasn’t left my mind at all. The idea of it, the concept of it. It hasn’t left my mind since I kissed my first love in that old hotel room one fateful night in November of 2007. I still remember every detail – how dark the room was, how soft and tender his lips were, how fast my heart was racing, how the bed itself was so messy, how new and unfamiliar the moment was and how all of it, at the moment, screamed “forever!”

I have loved and lost so many times in my life. And quite frankly, I am surprised that I am still able to feel love now. I have grown amazed at how the human heart operates. I’ve put my heart through a hard labor, and yes it is already beaten up, worn out and exhausted, but I find, in all of my heart’s exhaustion, that no matter how hard I try to put up walls and pretend that I am a selfish, cold, bitter, self-indulgent cunt, at the end of the day, I know who I really am – I know that I will not survive alone.

So yeah, I have already established that love, indeed, may just be the central theme of my life. I have established that it can be weird, crazy and sometimes ridiculously hard to fathom. But now I ask myself: what is love?

Right now I’m wishing that time was infinite so I could write on and on in an attempt to discover and rediscover the bittersweet realities and surrealities that love brings to my mind. I know that I can never put a final period on a writing about such an abstract and incredibly peculiar concept.

Four months ago, I had my first encounter with a human being at a soul level. This is probably the deepest and truest connection I have ever been able to generate with another person. And I didn’t see this coming. I didn’t plan this. And I sure as hell didn’t want this. This is the first “relationship” I’ve been in where I legitimately do not know what the fuck I’m doing or what on earth is actually going on. Every time he and I talk, and laugh, and exchange moments of absolute trust, friendship and connection, every time I look into his eyes, I just instantly forget about everything I knew about love. I forget that I was ever in love before. Because every time we are together I feel like an infant, a newborn, a kid… just learning his first steps and his ABC’s.

I cannot ever fully understand whatever it is that I am going through right now. All I know is that for the first time in my life, I feel completely vulnerable. And I just simply do not know where to go from that. I just don’t know. At all. No idea.

Blank. Void. Hollow.

Knives of Summertime

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I have been writing in longhand lately. Going back to writing with an actual pen and on an actual paper makes me feel like a child again, and being a child, to me, means being honest. So that’s what I am doing now. I am being honest to myself and with my writing– more honest than I had already been.

It is certain that I will not be writing in this online journal for quite a while. I do not have a time frame for it, but I’ll be back when I am back.

P.S. This will all be worth it. This will all make sense. This will all live. 

Verbal Diarrhea

That awkward moment when you only have two subjects in school for the current semester and you live a totally carefree life of slacking and not giving a heck about anything, so you invite a friend of yours for a chat over coffee before you leave the country for a Christmas vacation, and you realize twelve hours before you two meet up that you actually have final exams the whole evening, but you totally forgot about the exams at that particular time because your knowledge of having only two subjects made you too dreamy and busy about thinking of the holidays that you LITERALLY didn’t remember that you have finals to take and worry about, and you fricken have no idea what to do because you have to see that person at this particular time because that’s the last time you’re ever gonna see that person for the year 2011, and when you come back you two may not even meet that often anymore because of the busy and brutally hectic schedule ahead of you next semester, and you can’t even stay up too late with that person after your exams coz you still haven’t finished packing your things, and you suddenly realized that things are about to get even worse given the fact that you have a ruthless and fatal history of motion sickness, and you also realize that the flight you’re gonna be in tomorrow will take 22 hours to finish, so you try to comfort yourself by keeping in mind that MAYBE (just maybe) a 22-hour travel time is not gonna be that bad, like, it’s not gonna be that bad to be up in the air for 22 hours, which is almost a day in your lifetime, but then you are just honest enough and experienced enough to feel and know that you are about to have the longest, most excruciating flight of your life, and you just don’t know how to manage it, and you are totally freaking out that you are trying to express the strong emotions you have in Facebook hoping that it might lessen your anxiety about the farewell to a friend you’re probably gonna miss out on and the plane ride that might make you NOT wanna go back home anymore because you feel so sick of being in planes already, because you know for yourself that you are a land person, that you do not, ever in your life, enjoy being up in the air because you are a human (not a bird), but you just have to brace yourself at the end of the day because there’s nothing you can do about it.

Me no likey.

Gotta love the arrival, but gonna hate the travel. For sure.