Rejection

re·jec·tion  (r-jkshn)

n.

1. The act of rejecting or the state of being rejected.

2. Something rejected.

re·ject  (r-jkt)

tr.v. re·ject·ed, re·ject·ing, re·jects

1. To refuse to accept, submit to, believe, or make use of.

2. To refuse to consider or grant; deny.

3. To refuse to recognize or give affection to (a person).

4. To discard as defective or useless; throw away.

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I'm sure everyone has been acquainted with rejection one time or another in their lives. Be it getting passed over a desired promotion, getting your hopes dashed by the one you are courting, getting turned down by the school or company you've been dreaming of joining, or simply being turned away for any reason at all.

I can say that sometimes, I feel that rejection must the loneliness' sister or twin. Rarely is one around without the other lurking in the shadows of one's mind. Though sometimes, we can also reject ourselves-that is, in the moment of ultimate solitude, we cast aside the only being that remains with us...and getting rejected in return.

What else can we say at rejection? It is hurtful, numbing even. It feels like a jagged glass knife, cutting one from his chosen path, sometimes even snipping the thread that connects him with others that can at the very least alleviate his pain. He is alienated to those feelings simply because he is too hurt-he won't reach out or move forward. The pain rejection lavishly offers can even seem to slow down time at the very moment you want it to speed up and take the pain away.

So one may think of rejecting the feeling, refusing its existence, obliterating it from conscious thought. He sometimes succeeds, albeit for a short while. But rejection's filthy caress will not be denied, her tendrils will seek him and choke him in her fetid embrace, dragging him down to depths strange and foul. These are the times that one is so hurt that he is on the verge of tears, but only just. Rejection rarely gives one that cleansing balm so readily.

So what else can be done? Simply let it flow and let it take one to those places unwanted, for lessons can be picked up from murk and dank. Or, if one can withstand it, force the flow to greater pressures, feeling the pain more intensely for a briefer time. If the eyes cannot convey the pain, let it flow from you some other way. A friend can always remedy the pain, though sometimes it may not seem that way. Believe in oneself. One is not made by a single rejection, as much as one is not made by a single triumph. Believe in a higher power, for those who can and will. Entrust it, and let go.

Reverse Entropy

NP: Fixing a Hole (The Beatles)
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After more than a month or "renovating" our rooms, I finally got the chance to arrange all my stuff which has been hanging out on dusty drawers and cabinets for almost two weeks running. And cleaning stuff up is foreign to me and my room, being a guy that tosses his shirt in the general direction of the hamper, not really caring if it hits or misses.

So I cleaned up my room, to the tune of classical music no less ( I mean really, I downloaded a hundred or so files a few nights before). I realized that much of the gunk that I held on to, the ones that you keep just in case you add them, filled up the bin as soon as I lay my hands on them. lecture slides, registration forms, blue books, even the Ninty DS case that was hanging around my room for so long. I kicked out from my room the musty tomes that I have been bringing up when I'm hankering for something to read. What's left are some textbooks, some self-help books, my Arty Fowl hardbound, and a social commentary on the US fast food culture.

After all of those cleared up, I panicked at the sight of trinkets and small stuff scattered all over the place, with nowhere to go. Fortunately, my dad gave me a little basket to store those for the time being.

Well right after cleaning, I realized that my room was not the only place in my life that needed cleanup. The current list are as follows:

1. Something happened between me and bestfriend,and I don't know if I have completely processed it.
2. Same bestfriend and I fought on some matters, and I am getting real tired, real fast.
3. The call center lifestyle is taking a toll on my health , specifically and disturbingly, at my heart.
4. The masters class is proving to be a real charmer, demanding large chunks of time I do not have the liberty using.
5. Relationship with sibling is testy at best, and nonexistent at worst.
6. Same sibling maybe becoming delinquent, and may need assistance from an ex to sort it out.
7. Same ex still makes bestfriend's blood boil (need I point out that bestfriend's feelings aren't exactly platonic?)
8. Finances are in jeopardy as I turned over all of my pay to bestfriend so I can pay for my phone.

Phew, I didn't even realize that the list was that long. And I don't even know why I'm spilling my guts out tonight, telling my woes to probably complete strangers. Maybe, I just want to be listened to.

No matter, I need to sort it out soon enough.

Rest Day Night

Since I cram undergrad, masters and work almost every day, with each impinging on each, my only recourse during times when I am in heat is through porn, be it written or visual. During rest days, I can probably go at it for five or six times (And yes, I was enjoying porn right before I posted this entry).

As a person gifted with a hyperactive imagination, I tend to gravitated towards vividly detailed erotica. And as an empath I stay away from erotica with a back story. Sadly, the most intense scenes are those with the saddest stories. And I sometimes get to read them, as much as I do my best to stay away from them.

One such was the one I read right before I started to write this. It was not as randy as I would like, but I was compelled to finish it for the sole reason of finishing it. Bad move: the ending gave an emotional kicker so hard that a tear or two escaped my eyes.

Yes I got depressed and almost cried because of porn.

Even now I feel the emptiness and sadness inside of me, the intense emotional impact that the story had on me. This was the same reason I do not want to watch features with a lot of drama or emotional stimuli: I get affected too fast, too soon. An hyperactive emotional reserve coupled with an overactive mind is not a good combination when you are sad, but not hurt. You tend to think of the what-might-have-beens, and it makes you want to bawl more. To wish for happy endings where one is offered. To ask for rainbows in a desert; to wish to see a star in a blizzard. And in my case, to hear a voice of a friend, only to face silence and isolation.

And yet, this is not the most devastating effect these have on me. As one sad thought begets another, as wishes lure others in a bitch spiral, they simply can't break through the barrier of my tears. For how many times I have wished for tears to come to lighten my heavy heart but to no avail. So in my heart they stay, awaiting a trigger for release or worse, hardening and forming a barrier against more emotion.

I now feel the negative emotions receding, biding their time. I have lost the ability to cast them aside and smile at the glorious morning.

Does this mean I am more human than before?