Can never be too certain,
couldn’t been so wrong
Held hands together today,
but tomorrow played a new song

Beer as an example.

Once new to alcohol itself, I preferred the ultimate beer a man could ask for–draft. Served straight from the keg or from the very machine used to filter it. Raw, pure…beer. Tastes great, a man’s man drinks this stuff. Over the course of my own aging, issues like calorie counting and alcohol content arised. Draft didn’t have the refinements I wanted; it was good, then there came better. Lights had lower calories, tasted sorta like draft but.. was unique to itself. I grew a few years, my criteria changed again according to the flow of my needs.

Even as shallow as to beer, there was passion in it. You spend time with something and you eventually get hooked, building a foundation around it. You get older and even your poison in drinking becomes unsettlling. The first and second weren’t willing to go the same pace I was– even if we’re just talking about static editions of beer. A gist; I made no mistake in draft nor lights, they were great but direction in drinking led to a change of preference.

Like nomads of before, we don’t really stay the same place when there’s a lack of sufficiency in the need that got us to where we were. We move on because life depends on it the same way it would have killed them once the supply of food ran out.

Not thinking selfishly, leave with grace. The beer was great, the shelter and habitat were too. Someday after we’ve left there’ll someone else to appreciate what we’ve passed through. The beer will always be drank and loved as the latter will flourish with sustenance again to accomodate others. Sometimes a sad story but somehow it’s part of the cycle of life. Change is constant, certain and is necessary for progress.

The desire for something better drives the will to move on. Knowing there will be –provides the motivation. In my own journey, I had to sum up the courage and bravery myself which led me to walk on the same same same road as I always have. The changes I’ve incurred throughout the path strengthened the way.

One day I know I’ll be finally happy with a certain distro of beer. I’ll be happy because I’ve peaked; I’m content. I’ll reminisce all that I’ve drank as if they weren’t there to be, I wouldn’t have built such a wall of quality to understand what I really wanted.

There’s a reason they came into my life and for the most part, I’m just thankful they did.

To alcohol, to the memories we might never recall, yet to the beers we’ll never forget.

NANCY. My turn. How many times have you been in love?

HENRY. Real times?

NANCY. You’ve faked being in love?

HENRY. No, but “real” can be a very murky thing for people when it comes to love. There’s high school love, which, when people are going through it, they think it’s real, but then you look back and all it is, is just … puberty juice. Then you got your basic college-love illusion, where feelings are blown way out of proportion by the fact that you can have sex somewhere other than a car.

NANCY. Some people experience real love at that age.

HENRY. At that age people are in love with the idea that they’re in love. They like how it makes them feel grown up. Then they’re crumbled when it ends because they realize it wasn’t a real adult love. (Beat) I’m gonna say that real adult love happens when two people who have been completely devastated by either of these delusions try to make a go of something new. When two formerly heartbroken folks make a choice to pursue new feelings for new people armed with the knowledge of how much it could waste them. That’s love. Knowing the risk. Knowing it could blow up and wreck you. But still diving in.

NANCY. Henry, you’re avoiding the answer.

HENRY. What?

NANCY. How many real adult times have you been in love?

HENRY. Oh. Zero.

NANCY. That’s depressing. Drink.

Tonight I did something different and went back in time to actually read a poem I wrote. I never do this. Whenever I write a letter or poem, I wish it away to whoever I wrote it for; there’s always someone behind the writeup, whether it’s a friend, a love interest or to myself. You can check it out at: http://netcriminal.livejournal.com/57010.html.

I’m shocked. Maybe you’ll never understand the feeling of being born tomorrow when you lived yesterday too much; I’m awoken.

Reading back in time got me contemplating that I used to be a genius where now I only possess the blunt honesty having stripped off all the poetic sugarcoating. It makes me happy that I documented every experience and how it felt in a public web log. I can literally read myself growing up; all the stumbles and peaks and crashes. In a grand conclusion about myself I could honestly say I’ve lost a lot of the compassion I had for things, nevertheless, there was no major change but dozens of tweaks for the better and to balance out things.. for the worse too.

It had me reminisce how much I was in love with someone. It reminded me of certain scars of the past that shaped how I now cope with the present. At some point, I actually felt as if I was reading through another person’s writings, partly because I never read my writes, but it showed me my own evolution. It made me happy; it made me smile that I’m living the future I wrote about myself in the past. I remained strong, firm to ideals and I never lost sight of the direction a prepubescent boy carved the path for.

I didn’t turn out so bad after all, I’m living committed to the best things in life I knew all along.

Stay in love and never ever stop writing.

Today I got diagnosed for stepping out of my mind.

Tomorrow’s too late, the crazy was always part of me.

Don’t let me out of my world. I don’t tell you what you can’t smoke– tobacco, weed or your own mother. I don’t tell you what you can’t drink– water, alcohol or loneliness. I don’t tell you what you can take in– diet pills, heroine or reality. Don’t tell me I’m wrong, I’m always right. Don’t tell me what I may do, because I always can. Don’t tell me I’m out of bounds, I drew the borderline myself. Don’t tell me I’m not myself, the alcohol just kicked in.

The alcohol just kicked in.

Never let me awake, I’m happier dreaming. Oh, if I’m awake, stop me from dreaming. I’m alive this way.

Good thing there’s no cure for insanity, the medicine might kill me.

We’re talking about two partly broken hearts and getting high.

Every word said is just poetry in the making.

Can we cut all this _bullshit_ and focus on falling in love?

Not really.

The biggest realization so far in my ENTIRE twenty years, is that when life takes something from you, it always leaves you with a lesson to compensate.

I’ve been living my life too smooth to care about the little humps, when presented with a mountain to climb over, I was devastated… of course, I didn’t read the manual given to me correctly, nor did I notice the reaching hand.

No shortcuts, just solutions.

I have fifty or so years to live, at this pace, I’ve wasted nearly a third of my time wondering how the system works. Like a boy I was eager to run mile, scars from trips in mind but never knowing how far the run actually is.

That boy tripped, that boy cried and as he wiped his tears away and stood up, there arose a man.

..and he had one thing to say:

NEXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXT~!

What do you need to earn the title of man?

That’s quite a touchy topic, it would differ from person to person, but personally speaking… it’s commitment and responsibility.

Beware the boy without a plan, like another crash course into regret. Be forewarned of the individual without the slightest thought of the future, for all his agenda ends shortly.

The same way, will you invest in a stagnant bank? Are you willing to dive into shallow waters?

This is when men… after all, are golden.

The formula? This fast + exercise (jogging, walking, fitness machines) + boxing everyday, It really really really really works! Note that the fast was reckless though and I don’t recommend it, I have no clue how I survived a week without eating, but I did right?

Boxing being effective, wasn’t surprising! On a prepared diet for me two years back by my nutrionist along with boxing, I lost ten pounds in just two weeks, now that’s staggering. It isn’t much to compare with the weight I’ve lost now in so little time as … it’s really the bad way to lose it. It’s a sport you would really enjoy, it gets your andrenalins pumping specially in the moments you feel like you’ve got nothing more to give then suddenly… a rush of energy throughout your body to get you to hold on and finish that round.

A special thanks to Stephanie for the week diet she recommended which I’m eager to start in a couple of days.

// Dear Neighbor

Hey neighbor, you’ve probably seen a lot of me these days as I’ve been walking to and going home from the gym every afternoon and evening.

During these times; more when it gets dark, I’ve come to know some of your dogs and what company they’ve provided me in the last couple of nights. You love your dogs don’t you? In fact I bet you love them so much because it’s starting to show, you’re looking more like your pets everytime we see each other. I would appreciate it more if you actually had dogs with a proper breed, don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean to offend you for taking care of a confused breed at all. I don’t mind dogs with more than one breed, totally cool with me. What I mind is that you pathetic owners leave these ugly four legged freaks every night for them to run after the next person they see walking. Take proper care of your dog, don’t let it out alone; certainly with the mixed breeds, certainly not that adorable for me to approach and pat.

I like walking at night, it relaxes me after a strenous workout.

I like dogs too, they’re cute, loyal and make nice companions.

What I don’t like, is you neighbor. Therefore, relatively, I don’t like your pets either. I would make an exception for your pet if it’s even the least aesthetically pleasing, but no…

Would you like to prolong your pet’s life? Suggestion, keep them away from me at night. I get stressed everytime I have to deal with your pathetic excuse for a guardian. They sure provide me with more exercise, keeping my heart pumping and racing against the normal beats.

I will skewer your dogs if I have to. I have a principle against killing animals, but I also have another principle that outrules that when it’s against my personal safety. If you do not abide by my little request, expect a doggy wake within the week. I will run over your dogs, I will poke out their eyes, I will drain their blood in front of your driveway, I will skin them while concious.

In the plausible event that they do overpower me, expect a word from my lawyer the very next day. Let’s play a game shall we? For every drop of my blood your dog takes away from me; that’s you, your son, your daughter, your wife, your grandmother, your grandfather, your grandchildren, your great grand children’s eternal debt to me. Money isn’t really a big deal to me, not that I have money, but I would want you to suffer a thousand fold of my brief perishment. I will ruin and destroy the rest of your lives for your irresponsible handling of domesticated animals.

Please be guided accordingly.

..and remember, I hate you. If you ever see me smile at you, that’s just me imagining you dying in a fire.