The Initiation

This is my blog. I am the host. And I am the guest.

Welcome to my world. For the uninitiated, this is me in a nutshell: keping track of the professional career of the Williams Sisters, appreciating the artistic genius of Kate Winslet, extolling the philosophy of Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged, and lately, rocking in the music of Rachel Yamagata and Allison Crowe.



I am spontaneous. I embrace the idea of a spur-of-the-moment fun. Although I do not espouse hedonism, it definitely doesn't hurt to let loose of onself and dance to the music. A glass of wine + stimulating conversation = divine!

I read a great deal. Ignorance is the most singular agent of poverty. As cliched as it may sound, knowledge is power. When someone bashes me, I rebut to the cretin a quote or two from Ayn Rand and the cretin shuts up.

I appreciate music. It is gratifying to know how music shifts or dictates your mood. If I wanna feel my bohemian spirit, I listen to Out Tonight or La Vie Bohemme from Rent the Musical. If I want some high drama, I play Rachel Yamagata or Allison Crowe or Sarah Maclachlan. Oh, I just love my IPod and methinks that Steve Jacob should be canonized to sainthood for this nifty invention.

I love art films. From Slumdog Millionaire to Gone With the Wind to American Beauty to The Pianist, the artsy it is, the better.



Inspiration is my medium, my fuel. I exist because I'm inspired. It doesn't have to be associated to a significant other. A music from Kate Voegele or Kate Winslet's cinematic aura rejuvenates my mundane existence. In this rather bleak world, to be alive alone is already a torture, an insufferable anguish. An inspiration might just reverse the status quo.

But I press on. To feel love and pain at the same time: the ecstasy that it brings, the roller-coaster ride, the highs and lows, the unrequited love. Eventually, I come back to my senses, slap my face twice and contemplate. Forget about the conventions, shrug off the moral police. Heed to the call of Pamela Anderson: Time passes, shit happens, you do the best you can. We put so much drama into everything. You gotta remember to breathe.

'Cause when things go haywire and the formula does not work anymore, it's time to....

Stretch the truth...