To My Friends Who Are Still Trapped In Toxic Relationships

My Symphony: Skeletons / Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Love is not a prison. Maybe at this point in your life it sometimes feels like it is, but it shouldn’t be. It’s not a prison. It shouldn’t look like one, it shouldn’t sound like one, and it certainly shouldn’t operate like one. You should be able to hang out with your friends, with your family, with your co-workers, even with the sidewalk fishball vendor you’ve gotten to know well over conversations about politics and religion on the corner of your street as you wait for the bus every morning. You need to understand that you are not behind bars. You can go outside and live. You are allowed to watch the sunset from breathtaking horizons with your loved ones. Your hands are not tied, your feet are not chained, your life is not limited by four rusty corners. You can breathe, and whenever you do, you should be able to breathe deeply and freely.

Love is not a game. You shouldn’t be tossing and turning at night debating with yourself about where you stand in someone’s life. You shouldn’t be losing sleep wondering if you are worth loving, because you are. And that person making you question that is nothing short of garbage, and you need to throw him or her out of your life as forcefully as you can. All of the mind games just need to stop. You are not a toy and your soul is not a punching bag. You should be looking at someone in the eyes and not feel like you’re staring at a stranger. You should be able to look inside them and feel like you’re home. You should be able to hold them without fearing that they’re going to let go first, because they won’t… because they never did… because they never will.

Love is not a test. You do not have to pass anything. This isn’t an examination where you have to burn the midnight oil to make sure you don’t fail. There is nothing to fail at, only bits of lessons you can learn, only glimpses of perfection you can sometimes miss. You shouldn’t ever feel like you have to prove something, or that you have to improve something – about yourself, about your life, about the world that you live in. You shouldn’t ever feel like you’re walking around eggshells in fear of “fucking things up”, because “fucking things up” should be a thing so un-thought of that you have started to forget what it even means to fuck things up. And in the slim instance that you do fuck things up, you should be so engulfed in the realness and the greatness of what you have with that person that you are confident enough that love itself can straighten out what is crooked; that even though you know a genuine apology cannot fix everything, it is a magnificent start.

Love is not a contest. You are not trying to be better than anyone; You are not racing to the finish against anyone. It is not a competition, nor is it a race. When you look at yourself in the mirror, you should see how beautiful you are, even when you never explicitly acknowledge that. You shouldn’t feel less than what and who you are because of the relationship that you are in. You should never, ever, be compared to anyone in his or her past or present life. You shouldn’t feel insecure about how you look, or ever doubt that you are worth it, or ever fear being incomplete without your partner’s validation, because you know you were whole long before you even met this garbage person.

You should be looked at like a Vincent van Gogh art piece, listened to like a Beethoven symphony, embraced like the warm waves in the Pacific Ocean, and kissed like the first drop of rain after a long, dry summer.

If there was anything I wish could be learned the easy way, it’s that you are amazing, just the way you are. We all have doubts about ourselves, we all have insecurities about ourselves, and we all have imperfections we wish we didn’t have. We’re just humans. But when the time comes that you do share your life with someone, it has to be with a person who builds you up, who makes you feel better not just about yourself but about life in general. It should be with someone who brings the sunshine in any rainy day.

So get up. Get out. And start living the life you deserve, with the people who deserve you.

Truthfully,

Kenn Edward Tenorio ❤

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Happiness is Exhausting

My Symphony: Take Me Somewhere Nice by Mogwai

depression_by_nerysoul-d4ehg2g

The ghosts in the photograph never lied to me. I’d be all of that – a false memory. (Mogwai)

Tonight is one of those nights. Those many nights…

Let me begin by saying that I sincerely find happiness a rather exhausting state of mind. One would think that it is something that resembles a reward of some sort – the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I think that generally, happiness (whatever it means to people) is a rare thing. But contrary to the stigmatized notion of it, happiness is actually not a destination. It is not something that you work hard for in order to achieve in the end. I mean, it’s not even something that’s achievable, nor is it something that necessarily comes in the end. Instead, it is the tiny bits in between the everyday hustles and bustles of life that are pirouetting within one’s self in totally random moments, and for a brief amount of time. Happiness is not the trophy one gets for finishing first, or second, or third in the rat race; it is instead a penny, or a letter in the alphabet, or a piece of a jigsaw puzzle – something of a really small size and value that has the potential to become magnificent when joined with all the other really small pieces, creating a larger-than-life picture.

When I was in first grade, we were asked in English class to write about our “Happiest Moment In Life”. I’ll be completely honest: I do not remember what I wrote at all. But I don’t blame myself. Perhaps the content of my essay was greatly insignificant that even my seven-year old self knew it wasn’t worth remembering. Poor kids we all were in Ms. Gemma’s class. We were so young and we were already introduced to the concept of happiness as this one human experience that beats out all the other experiences; this concept of the “most unforgettable experience” as a merit for having lived one bold, outrageous day in your life. If the school wanted us to be prepared for the real world, they should’ve made us write on “A Happy Moment In My Life” and “An Unforgettable Moment In My Life”. Not these overwhelming titles with superlative adjectives that only blow everything out of proportion. If I could rewrite that essay on a happy moment in my life, it would go like this:

A happy moment in my life was when I woke up really sick and didn’t want to go to school. My dad just finished reading his morning news, and he seemed to be in a bad mood. He picked me up from my bed so quickly that he hurt my right arm. He then said to me, “You’re going to school no matter what.” I cried, and I cried because the way that he said those words was cruel. He’s always like that. He always thinks that I am faking it. Moments later, as I was sadly sitting in front of breakfast looking like a pale donkey, Mom held my hand, and then she hugged me. She said, “You don’t have to go to school today if you’re not feeling well baby.” Then she smiled at me.

If there is one thing I learned in the first year of my 20’s, it’s that life is not simple. And the newest trends in the Internet are making it even more complicated for humanity to breathe and really be itself. I don’t know where this came from or who started it, but these days, it’s almost like a disease to be unhappy. Nobody seems to be allowed to get sad or depressed anymore without getting looks of pity and, believe it or not, disgust. We live in a world where one’s heartaches and problems are considered as weaknesses and, according to the obnoxiously sarcastic Internet users, boring shit which ain’t nobody got time fo’. Everything right now is all about having fun, living because you only live once and attracting nothing and nothing else other than good vibes. Anyone who dares to rain on people’s parades is immediately dismissed as an outcast, a loner, a weirdo and worst of all, a loser. A poisonous loser.

Everywhere I go, every turn I take, I keep on encountering people who implicitly claim that they are allergic to sadness, that they find the idea of depression very unattractive. We’ve all heard it. It’s all over social media, it’s all over the news, it’s all over television. People like Miley Cyrus broadcasting their very exclusive views on life and the way that they want to live it. “That’s not really me (‘new Miley’ referring to ‘old Miley’). I’m just all about fun, and that’s, that’s who I am” <insert loud applause of hundreds of fans in the live audience>. The entertainment industry, in all its forms, has successfully glamorized life and romanticized living.

Stop. For crying out loud, just fucking stop it. Not the media (it’s a little too late for that anyway), but you. You reading this right now, you with the heart, you with the soul. Stop being a slave of society’s sugar-coated tyranny.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with sadness.

I’m sick and tired of these hipsters walking around acting like they rule the world for basically not giving a fuck. I’m sick of these optimists feeling the need to be positive all the fucking time. I’m sick of these pretty girls who think that they just cannot fart in public, and these ripped guys who force themselves to not get attached and be emotional. I’m sick of all those highly inappropriate grade school essay topics, and I’m sick of the teachers who think it’s okay to suggest happiness to kids in a single, superlative light. And I’m just sick of everybody who is quote-unquote allergic to sadness. Fuck you. I hope that your life is filled with pure fun and nothing else. Just that. Just pure fun until the day that you die. Maybe then you’ll be happy, but I strongly doubt that.

It’s just all too much. Too much make-up. Too many masks. Too many pretensions.

I swear to god the next time I hear someone say things like “I don’t do drama. I’m all about fun”, I will punch that bitch right in the throat and tell her, “Look, honey, it actually goes both ways”.

It does.

Life is not a one-way street, and people need to understand that. Just embrace the fact that sadness and happiness don’t have to be two opposing forces. Learn to relish in the joy and the misery of being alive in this planet. Otherwise, you’re making it hard on people like me, who actually see happiness as a very separate concept from fun, and who look at sadness not as a sickness but as a mere reality. A reality no one should be ashamed of.

Happiness alone is exhausting. It is only meaningful and desirable when it has randomly jolted out of pain (or nothingness).

Touch Screen Fiasco

Today I found out that blogging using a touch screen device is twice as hard as dealing with Trigonometry and Physics combined. Like, right now, at this very second, as I am typing this using the itouch that my brothers gave me, I am convinced that touch screen devices are never meant for me. I am such a noob at this. I don’t even know how to “enter”. Seriously Apple, where the f is the “next line” button in this device? :( okay, bye.

Lemon Chicken

7:10pm Vancouver BC time

Today I found myself a new favorite dish: lemon chicken.

I just love how the lemon sauce penetrates my mouth and how it tastes so well with freshly cooked chicken strips. I guess I am saying goodbye to Fish and Chips. I’ve been eating too much of those, and now I am ready to replace it with Lemon Chicken. Yes. I have made up my mind. Lemon Chicken is now my number one favorite viand.

Other than finding myself an awesome new food addiction and sleeping for about 12 hours, nothing really major happened today; except for the two things my fortune cookies told me after I ate my lemon chicken:

1. You will have an important decision to make next month.

2. You will be a guest of a gracious host. 

I don’t even know what to say or what to feel. I never really believed in fortune cookies mostly because I never really had many fortune cookies before I got addicted to the Chinese Cuisine. I am not really sure about the second one, but I think I know what my fortune cookie means by “an important decision to make next month”. I’m actually sure of it. If this decision of mine will push through (as I am hoping it will), January 2012 will really be the most major thing that is about to take place in my life. *Excitement is in the air.

Happy Birthday, Dad

Today I ordered and ate at a restaurant like a spoiled brat.

My dad is probably the thriftiest person I know in my life. Wait. No. Thrifty isn’t even enough a word to describe his constant obsession with needing to save money all the time. He practically thinks $5 is a lot of money when in fact, it’s not. It’s really NOT! It’s just a cup of coffee. But anyway, today he turns 48 or 49. I’m not sure. So yeah. Today he turns a year older, and this is the perfect day when I could live off his money without any complaints. Since it’s his birthday, and he doesn’t really spend too much on us that often, today I took the liberty of ordering the pricey stuff I want in a fancy restaurant.

If there’s something I’m feeling right now, it would be satisfaction. I am satisfied. A $171 bill for four people isn’t really that pricey afterall. At least that’s what I think. But ask my dad and it’s gonna be a completely different story.

Anyhoo, HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Dad! ;-)

Today is the First Day of the Rest of the Days

December 2, 2011 | 11:02pm Vancouver BC time

Today I have completely outgrown Facebook.

I spent the whole day watching movies, listening to random music and eating gummy candies, and I realized that the day I abandon Facebook has finally come. I’m not gonna deny it, and I am hoping you won’t either, that the overused site we are all fond of is already getting too populated, too superficial, too impersonal and too convoluted (in a derogatory way). In other words, it has become boring. It’s been a good run pouring my heart out in that website and having everyone (including people I do not know and do not know me) know about tiny bits of the things that are happening in my life by posting emotional, mostly histrionic, statuses and dramatic pictures with dramatic captions. It’s been a good run sharing a bit of myself in that social network. All of those wild, careless and immature whining, bragging and ranting will surely be missed. But I already took a vow to myself never to stagnate in a certain place or with a certain thing. I do not like being dormant and static. I have to keep moving, and I have to keep growing. The first step, as you might have guessed, is letting go of the things that werein order to have room for the things that will be. With my rational and completely logical abandoning of Facebook comes my welcoming of this blog, Kenntativity. It’s actually funny how and where I got this term from. To cut the long story short, Kenn is my first name and “tentative” is one of the words that best describe me. It is a good friend of mine from whom I first heard the term. It’s a pseudonym he came up with some time last year to describe me. At first, I thought it was nonsense. I was in denial. But now, I am ready to embrace it. I am ready to embrace the fact that I really am Kenntative. I just never stick with a single thing for too long. I also never indulge myself in a single way of life for too long, or commit to anything for too long, or make final decisions. Basically for me, nothing is final.

I am now starting this blog, Kenntativity, for a purpose. This blog will be updated at least once a week. I just figured that my main blog is already too wordy and too vague for me to make this new one another enigma. So, just to let anyone who might end up reading this page, please know that this will be like my very own diary. Who says only girls can have diaries? As far as I can tell, that is already an ancient belief and an archaic misconception. Boys have feelings too. And unfortunately for most of us, they aren’t really the type who express what they feel. I don’t know, but most male species have other ways of expressing their anger, happiness and love. But it doesn’t really matter. It just happens that my major outlet is writing. So this is exactly what I am doing now. Writing.

Unlike my main blog (Aftertaste of a Mental Foreplay), this one will be filled with brief yet concise bits of stories. Whenever I have a major realization or experience that I want to expand on, I put it in my Aftertaste. But if I have tiny bits of stories to tell, but I don’t really want to write something too lengthy as I usually do in my other blog, I’ll do it here.

Ladies and gentlemen, without further adieu, I bring you KenntativityToday is the tomorrow we were afraid of yesterday.