Petrol-headed

This afternoon, after a meeting that lasted over 5 hours I realized that after the brain is tapped out, there's pretty little use for it. For the life of me, there was no getting back in the groove. All brain activity that was left could only command my hand to bring the pizza to my mouth and it in turn to chew and swallow. So in the office, I was reduced to mundane work, like stapling my receipts and doodling boobs all over my notebook. Takes me back to my days in college (except I didn't have a notebook then, only the hard wooden surface of my desk).

I should have just left, went home and recharged. But the sun was out, and it was hot as hell. Taking advantage of the office's free airconditioning wasn't a bad thing at all. Plus there was pizza, so I stayed put.

Then the familiar urge hit me, so I braved the hot and humid Manila air and choked myself on some cancer sticks outside the building. To amuse myself, I started counting cars passing me by while reconstructing the song "Counting Blue Cars" in my head. Well, tried to reconstruct it anyway, I never got past the chorus. Then the game turned into an hour of envy. There were all these cars passing by, and I wanted one of my own. Sure, cars are pretty impractical most of the time, specially when you live a short and convenient commute from the office. But I wanted one, if only to be able to escape the drudgery of my boring existence.

Okay, so if I was to buy a car, what should I get? Ahh, there's that debate again, the one I've been having with myself since I've decided to save up for one. Brand new or second hand? Japanese or Korean? (American and European models are just way off my budget, sadly) Smart car or bad ass SUV? This is just one of those choices where you know whichever one you pick, you'll be picking the wrong one. Fortunately, I don't have to torture myself in the short term so I stub out my cigarette, light up another one and move on.

Hypothetically, let's say I buy a car this morning. Where do I go? Home, of course is the last place you're going to think of. The day you get your first car, your mind goes nuts and you become that reckless teenager once again about to squander your life's savings on your first lap dance. This is one of those milestones in a man's life, the first bottle of beer, the first time you see an actual boob, bases 1 through 4, and I'm told the birth of your first child. You just can't let these moments go to waste.

So where to? With whom, or should I go solo? Do I bottle up a sample of that new car air? Should I head to the beach or the mountains? How long should I wait before I allow myself to fart inside the car? Obviously, these big decisions have to be made. I just hope I'll be ready with my answer when that time comes.

Last weekend, I actually got to driving again. It might have felt good, if only I was sober enough to enjoy it. It was 5 in the morning, I just sobered up but was sort of still out of it. I was too concentrated on the road than on the feel of the pedals and wheels. What a waste.

So I guess I miss driving, having the power to decide your own fate and the direction you're headed to. And as I was standing there finishing up my last stick of cigarette, I hated all those drivers passing by, taunting me with the smell of their fumes and the sweet sound of an internal combustion engine. While I sit in the bus, pre-destined to take a certain route, these guys can decide which road to take, to stop and take a leak when they felt like it, to brake just a tad harder than necessary just because.

Just before I stubbed out the last embers, a guy in a tiny Hyundai drives up the garage and guns the engine one last time before cutting it off. He was car number 203, the bastard.

Distractions versus "Justin Bieber"

And wouldn't you know it, this blog seems to be getting harder and harder to write. There's just so little time left over from work and that whining mistress of mine, the laundry. And just when you thought you finally managed to free yourself from it all, your blanket greedily clutches you in its fluffy arms and drains whatever iota of consciousness you have left.

Some days, I find myself waiting to be distracted from the drudgery of it all.

And it's not just this blog that I've been neglecting, lots of other important matters are being left up in the air. Take for example the need to populate my wardrobe with more spiffy threads. Somehow, I'm still dressing up for some 90's grunge concert. Baggy pants, plaid shirts and a bad goatee. Okay, the goatee is because of the pimple that's been squatting on my chin for some time now, but the rest I owe to my laziness and superior laundry skills. Yeah, I've owned some of the shirts I've been wearing for a decade now, that's how anal I am with the wash cycle. There is hope though, I did buy a shirt some weekends ago to wear to some fancy work-related event. Never got the pants, nor the shoes, nor the tie, not even a belt that doesn't look like it's turning back into a cow. That's what happens when you leave your mom's house and live on your own, you devolve back to your inner Neanderthal.

Before any of you make any suggestions, let me explain that a distraction is entirely different from a hobby. No don't bother to look it up in the dictionary, I don't really care if I'm wrong about the definition in your world, but in MY world, as I've said, it's worlds apart. There are a lot of things that I could do in lieu of my more mundane activities. I've considered baking, jogging, painting, finishing that damn Gabriel Garcia Marquez book, pest control (okay, maybe that needs prioritizing), carpentry and all sorts of stuff. Writing about them is about as far as I've gotten to realizing any of those things. Now those are hobbies. But distractions... they're... 'distracting'? I mean they're just so darn irresistible that your brain turns to mush and you forget how dumb that fascinated look on your face is. Think about how a fat kid stares at a doughnut, or a 12 year old girl goes apeshit for Justin Bieber.

Distractions are what makes our lives more interesting.

Oh, and another thing I just thought of to differentiate a distraction from a hobby, the former is fleeting while the latter is gonna suck the life out of you. It's like having a one night stand with Britney Spears versus spending a lifetime of her going all trailer park on you. Bad analogy perhaps, but I did enjoy thinking up my imaginary one-nighter.

Beware though, as there are distractions that are quite unpleasant. These tend to make your life even more miserable than it already (surely) is. (Yes, I'm quite sure because you've got nothing better to do than read this blog, dear reader) So in MY world, the definition of the word 'distraction' is always positive. I'm calling its negative equivalent 'Justin Bieber' instead. No I'm not a hater, I just don't imagine myself uttering his name too often in my lifetime, guaranteeing a long and pleasant life ahead of me. For instance, you know those few minutes in the middle of a porno when the actors suddenly appear out of nowhere...*GASP*... FULLY DRESSED! JUSTIN FRIGGIN' BIEBER! (Oh the horror!)

I'll admit, there are some people who find their lives ruined by all sorts of distractions. Take for example the guy who got distracted by the chick in the car besides his, right before he got bashed up really bad by the oncoming truck he failed to notice. Or the prisoner who got distracted by the bar of soap which he dropped on the floor... you probably know how that always ends. That's not what I hope to happen to me, of course (specially the incident with the soap, I'd probably choose the car crash over that).

My former mentor taught me that to ensure success in life, you have to constantly remind yourself how it feels to be fulfilled. This isn't just the one thing, it may be a bunch of different stuff, but what's essential is that you have to make it a point to feel great about yourself at least once a day. For him, it was finishing his Sudoku game during breakfast. I tried it with computer chess for a month... I felt miserable losing and arriving late to the office every day for that month. Wasn't the best of ideas I've had for sure. But the principle is sound, you just have to find that something that you enjoy and you're good at, and make it fuel the day with feeling good about yourself.

Before anyone says anything, NO I WILL NOT DO YOUR LAUNDRY.