Heart on my sleeve

Why do we need to wear our hearts on our sleeves?

Why do I need to recount even the most insignificant of details to imply that I live a happily complicated life? Why do I need to pace back and forth with furrowed brows to tell my colleagues and superiors that I am actually working, and working hard at that? Why do I need to babble endlessly or bury my nose in a bestseller to gain the respect of (seemingly) intellectual peers? Why do I need to be seen in smoke-filled, crowded places, drowning in alcohol and caffeine to show that I have a swinging social life? Why do I need to flaunt mundanities just to show that I have money to burn?

People are such intellectual and emotional exhibitionists.

Why do I need to publish this blog?

To the Elusive One

You are the elusive one.

You relish the feeling of being chased, of being desired, and of being envied. You enjoy the thought of your beauty being the object of conflict among men, of conflict among couples. The men often ask “Who will you choose?” The spiteful women, on the other hand go “WHEN will you choose?” as if your answer will put an end to discords of the heart.

“Not now. Not yet,” you mysteriously and haughtily reply, for everyone knows you will lose the moniker most desired by the aging, the plain, and the already possessed. And so you continue working your way up a higher pedestal, finding the best job in your field and making it known to everyone that one must reach your professional stature before he can reach your heart. Some chasers give up, settling for others who look like you but who will never be like you for the simple reason that you make their hearts race and breaths shorter as they race with other men to catch up with your quickening pace.

You boast of your love to travel to wonderful and exciting places. As time passes your travels become more frequent and more far-off, all the more distancing yourself from those who run after you. The more determined men still pursue you, trotting from continent to continent and flashing their souvenirs to rivals, just like you do. The only difference is that they have better pictures as yours only have you on them.

While elusiveness may last, beauty and youth won’t. One day, you will grow tired of running, too. And one day, they will realize you are not worth pursuing anymore. One day, they will understand that in order for relationships to work, they must woo and sometimes be wooed, too. They will grow tired of doing the one-way chase. One day, they will meet a seemingly elusive one but will succeed in possessing and being possessed. So one day, they will just stop running.

But, being the elusive one, you have vowed never to do the chasing. “Others have not given up,” you try to convince yourself, for even if you slow down you know they will not be able to catch you that easily. The numbers will dwindle but they will be enough to keep you alive.

You will always be the elusive one, yes. But you will never be the one with the happy ending.

Ops!

It‘s not about being good and being right. It’s not about studying diligently nor is it about choosing the right books to read. It’s not about working hard nor is it about sucking up to climb one rung higher. It’s not about doing more. It’s not about doing great. It’s not even about praying fervently.

It's all about opportunities. Just that.

Virgo

Another lucky soul got the project. Oh, well, anyhoo, I enjoyed making the drawings. If you're a mag and you want my horoscope illustrations, do holler!

Somebody actually liked my work!

...so I made another one. This is actually a follow-up to my Leo illustration.

A rotten day turned fresh

Just when I thought this awful day--of encounters with people who will never appreciate me or any of my work, frustrating debates with mediocre supervisors, and (worst of all) acne (yes, beauty will always be the tormentor of the insecure)--will be coming to an equally awful end, I get a phone call from far far away telling me that I am missed, an email from a faceless name admiring my artistic efforts, and a sweet surprise from the fridge (Time out in chocolate form? The folks at Cadbury are geniuses).
Yes, life is still worth living.

The poem I made for my muse