Young, Dumb and Enlightened

My Symphony: Letting Go / William Black feat. Park Avenue

It’s kind of interesting and almost a bit scary how we twenty-somethings talk about Quarter-life Crisis like we are damn sure we are only a quarter through the rest of our lives. I mean, does it ever cross our minds that maybe we are farther down the road than we would ever be willing to believe? I think it’s the term “quarter” that is to blame here. It is quite misleading. I think that a lot of us live each day with the subconscious mentality that we have about a hundred years to live. If this was a guaranteed reality, if we were for sure going to have 100 years to live, then the whole concept of quarter-life crisis and our passive choice to succumb to the repercussions of it would be greatly justified.

But what if this wasn’t the case? What if we were already halfway through our lives? What if we only had 20, 25, 28 more years to live? What if right now marked the exact halfway point of our journey, and we had no other choice but to accommodate the reality that 50 years was all we were given on this planet?

It sort of puts things in perspective, doesn’t it?

This has been on my mind in the past couple of weeks, and I can’t help but share my thoughts with you guys. This isn’t any form of jab at the younger generation, nor is this a snide commentary about millennials because god knows I do love millennials, and I do admire a lot of things about the new generation of earthlings. This is simply a reminder — perhaps an unsolicited one, but a gentle reminder nonetheless:

We do not have a specific amount of years, or months, or days to live. It is the most obvious of truths, but also the one that is the most overlooked or forgotten. The world can be tough and life can be challenging, but if we look at age 50 as the new age 100 and at least partially entertain the possibility that we are already halfway through life (HALFway through! That’s huuuge! That’s a huuge deal!) I think it will have at least a little impact on how we treat the world, how we treat others and, most especially, how we treat ourselves.

We all have dreams, and we all want success. But now is the time to realize that there is no exclusive model of what success looks like. At the end of the day, dreams can be made of sunsets and hugs or poetry and laughter, and success can be as simple and as priceless as being irrevocably at peace with the person that you are, in the world that you live, and with the people that you’re with.

Hey, I don’t know much; I’m only 24 years old. But I don’t need to live til 60 to know that we don’t all have 100 years, let alone forever, to live.

Wise men always say, that when you’re young, it feels like there is an unlimited amount of days, and years, and decades. And then you grow old and find that all of your yesterdays were as short as they were sweet. The hourglass is going, and your main duty is to make sure you have lived your life as fully as possible by the time all the sand hits the bottom vessel.

#InnerPeaceIsTheNewSuccess
#Quarterlifecrisis

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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.

I am Not a Cactus

My Symphony: There Is by Boxcar Racer

Isn’t it ironic? We ignore the ones who adore us, adore the ones who ignore us, love the ones who hate us, and hate the ones who love us.

I don’t know about you, but this happens to me… all the time.

The people whom I have ruthlessly kicked out of my love life just like that used to tell me that one day, I will get my karma. Well, little did they know that the karma they were talking about has actually been ruining my life a long time ago. And I don’t even call it karma. I call it CURSE— a certain black spell some wicked witch might have bestowed upon me since the day I was born.

Well, I hate to break this to you in my own blogosphere haven, but I am once again officially depressed by the fact that everytime I like someone (like REALLY like someone), THINGS ALWAYS GO WRONG. I mean, yes I have been a little harsh on some of my frustrated stalkers, but I don’t deserve something so cruel as this one. Something which repeats itself all over again.

Can’t I be happy for just a little while? It’s not like I hadn’t been kind enough to fake relationships before. I actually deserve a gift, you know.

AAAAAAAAH. And whatever this “Jasmine” has in mind, I sure have someone to blame if I get choked eating a tray of donuts and gallons of ice cream out of depression.

But I am Kenn Tenorio. I won’t stop at the the first detour. In fact, I won’t stop at all. Not until someone else gets hurt.

*evil laugh

P.S. This is my shortest and most emotionally reckless post. In dialect, PAUTWAS. And don’t worry if you find this post useless or uninteresting as the others. The sole purpose of this entry is to type away my melodrama so I’ll eat less carb-loaded food and concentrate on my sleeping disorder.

… and oh… yes. I will REALLY do what it takes to take this one down.

Watch out, Jasmine. You know what they say. If you can’t have it, exterminate it.