Agape is a Greek term for “selfless love.” The unconditional, unselfish, wide-open type of love that parents try to provide for their children. The love that gets thrown into vows—“until death do us part.” The love that Jesus offered up to us on the cross. It’s the ultimate love that stays true and doesn’t ever fade with time or with the other random variables of life—it is the most rare form of love that exists.
And so, as I sit here writing this, it makes me wonder how the hell I got associated with this word, and how the term reflects who I am as a person. After class a few days ago, my name was transformed into Agape by a few unnamed characters, and all confusion ensued. The word itself is way too mysterious. Don’t get me wrong, Agape sounds like a badass nickname to give to someone—at first glance, someone could easily tag such a name onto a tall, dark, handsome, European, Calvin Klein underwear supermodel (awkward, yes—just admire how great I am at taking things out of context). Agape sounds like a name of someone who easily gets all of the women, all of the attention, and all of the glory. Everything I am not, everything I do not have (yeah, this is obviously a misconstrued image of the word and it’s meaning, if there is any connection at all, but for all intensive purposes in disidentifying myself with the term, I think it serves its purpose).
But realistically now, if the term describes the greatest type of love, I would think that there aren’t that many people out there who truly understand how deep this love actually goes—I sure don’t! And so goes the question: How can I really deserve such a title when I can’t even comprehend the true depth of the concept? Jeffrey Rene Ver Palileo Agape. How faux pas is that?
With this, I digress. Asian American Studies, Thursday afternoon, Professor Sue is leading the class in taking a little survey/quiz/thingy, similar to what can be found in a Seventeen magazine (minus the sex talk and fashion critiques). A rating on a scale of 1 to 5 was given for each question, yada yada yada, etc.; I’ll save you the details. The last few questions read:
___36. I try to always help my partner through difficult times.
___37. I would rather suffer myself than let my partner suffer.
___38. I cannot be happy unless I place my partner's happiness before my own.
___39. I am usually willing to sacrifice my own wishes to let my partner achieve his/hers.
___40. Whatever I own is my partner's to use as he/she chooses.
___41. When my partner gets angry with me, I still love him/her unconditionally.
___42. I would endure all things for the sake of my partner.
And so, after all was said and done and my results were tallied, it was unanimously determined by a couple of friends (who still remain anonymous) that I fell under this particular category of love style, that of the Agape. This theoretically allows me to proclaim myself as “The Greatest Lover of All-Time.” Will I ever be caught making such an assertion about myself? No fucking way, dude. However, I am flattered by their persistence in calling me by my newfound identity, despite its distinct corniness.
Why the pessimism you might ask? I, for one, am still enchanted by the fact that I fell under such a category, mostly because it has never really occurred to me until my friends pointed it out. Sure, I admit that I enjoy doing great things for my homies, family, and loved ones. I know that I like to make everyone happy, and I try to do most of these things without any expectations or without making demands in return. In this sense, I can see how I can fall under this spectrum. But hey, come on now. Agape? I just don’t feel that the world is ready for my love (with all sarcasm entailed)! But yeah, in all seriousness and with all jokes aside, it just doesn’t feel right to associate myself with such a deep meaning of such a deep emotion; I’m just trying to be who I am, living the way I was raised to be, as well as by my own convictions.
Sorry to say, folks, but this little piece of writing isn’t concluding with much of a happy ending. With that, on to a more emo topic, since we’re doing so well with all the love talk (which is possibly the reason I’m writing this in the first place): If I’m so Agape, why is it that this full-time lover sometimes tends to feel like something’s missing? Now, let’s analyze this, for rizzle. Interested in reading about what’s inside my head? Of course you are.
Who am I?
JR Palileo, age 21. Decently healthy, has somewhat of a plan for the future, has a stable lifestyle for the most part. Friendly, outgoing enough, witty and can be funny at times (to myself, at least). Cooks, cleans kinda, rides bikes, buys clothes and shoes, likes music. Enjoys having fun, but can get down to business. Usually in the company of great friends, but can easily find peace of mind with himself. Caring. Patient. Understanding. Loyal. Sophisticated in the dorkiest way. Was loved by someone special once. Was heartbroken a couple of times in the past.
What do I want?
Idealistically, to not have to worry too much about the petty things from day to day. To wake up, every single morning, without any doubts on my mind. To eventually have a job that I love, and to kick ass at whatever it is that I will be doing. To keep in touch with all of my awesome friends. To find her someday, and to continue living the rest of my life from that point on. Yeah, I’d like that. And maybe a Porsche.
After being single for a little over a year, I can tell you that it’s somewhat of a refreshing experience, especially after being in a long-term relationship that just didn’t happen to work out. I do what I please now, with relatively few worries and/or regrets (and just for clarification, I am a fairly moderate person—no insanely-crazy shit for me in case you were wondering). But, as you probably would have already imagined, it does suck from time to time when the loneliness sets in, especially when everything around you goes wrong and you realize that there really isn’t anyone to look forward to being with/seeing/talking to after such a long, hard day. And then you try to play it off by saying, “Ah fuck it. It’s cool. Whatever. It’s all good. I don’t need anyone anyway.” But deep down inside, you know that it really, really, really sucks. Don’t lie. You aren’t that hard!
Long story short, I guess that this is what I’m missing: maybe it’s just that I’m ready to be in-love again. Maybe I want to feel sick to my stomach missing someone after being away for a couple of days. Yeah, I want it again sometimes. And sometimes I definitely feel like it’s right in front of me, but things never work out the way I want them to.
But for some reason, I feel like it’s just not my time.
But hey, it’s all right. Life still moves on at full speed, and I’m enjoying every moment of it. I do what I can, and to me, that’s good enough. And to seal the deal, I’ll leave you with the one quote that gets me through the day:
I believe
That my life’s gonna see
The love I give
Return to me.
John Mayer – Wheel
Me? Agape? Let’s leave that one for Mr. Mayer.
my bad..don't be offended by the video..i don't know if y'all have seen it already..but yea i saw this my senior year of high school and i forgot about it for hella long..haha.
it does not reflect any of my views, behaviors or looks
Click to download a hi-res version.
http://www.listen77.com/mp3.php?mp3=2985e073-9803-4b4d-a78e-9c4c3644df78&nom=01DahilsaIyo.mp3&id=1203615258826
Yet another reason I love this man.
1.18.08, 11:41 p.m.
there's something therapeutic about folding laundry.
every piece of clothing holds its sentimental value.
each article intertwined with our memories of the times we wore them.
the cycle of clothes reminds me of daily repetition.
most of the clothes are like old friends we know,
all visiting and reminding us they're still a part of our lives.
then, there are clothes that are new additions to the pile --
clothes we have never seen in the pile.
new old clothes.
first-time laundry.
these moments of seeing new clothes in the pile of old clothes
serve as reminders of change.
as much as life can sometimes feel static,
those few still-unfaded shirts,
those unbroken-into jeans,
those socks absent of dirt and holes on the bottom,
are all small changes in our routine.
small tidbits of daily life that help break the monotous loop.
sometimes i envy laundry.
not only because they are able to develop comfortable communities
of similar shirts, pants, shorts, beaters, boxers, and socks,
or that new clothes fit into the community without discrimination,
(other than the fact that the ones most often in the laundry
only mean they are some of the most worn,
and thus, favorite clothes of mine),
but because no matter how dirty they get,
no matter how much they've been through,
and no matter how much friction and ruggedness they experience,
one simple wash cycle can bring them back to life.
clean. refreshed. dirt off all over, not just the shoulders.
i wish there were some sort of washing machine
that easily washed away all of my daily
burdens,
struggles,
conflicts,
tensions,
regrets,
insecurities,
failures...
and a dryer to put me back in good shape.
not stretched and worn through my experiences,
but restored to my perfect, clean condition.
and smell hella good, on top of that.
to me, laundry is not only change,
but also love and independence.
laundry is love.
since i can remember, laundry was a family event.
my parents washed the laundry,
while the children folded and sorted it.
it was a collective effort, with every member fulfilling a unique task,
and the end result was collective as well.
by the end of the laundry process,
we had cleaned every article of clothing in the pile,
and each member of the family had their own separate stacks
of fresh, folded laundry,
and we would take our stacks and place them back
in our cabinets and drawers to be worn another day.
or if anyone felt really generous,
that one person would put everyone's stacks of laundry away.
laundry is love.
you wouldn't clean and fold just anyone's dirty clothes.
as a family, we each contributed, and it was almost fun.
folding clothes in front of the tv is just like watching tv.
i admit,
these days, doing the laundry by myself isn't quite as fun.
everyone's grown older,
with their own personal busy schedule that never fits with anyone else's,
which equals sporatic laundry schedules.
finally, just last year...
i had to wash and fold my own laundry.
i became too impatient to wait for someone else to do my laundry,
and embarrassed that i had become so spoiled to simply
wait for someone else to do my laundry.
lucky for me,
laundry is independence.
as much as i had accomplished on my own in life,
i never felt as independent as when i did my own laundry
for the first time.
i no longer had to sit there stumped,
trying to figure out whose clothes belonged to who,
having to remember which socks were mine
and which were my father's --
these clothes, this laundry... was all mine.
and it was my responsibility to wash them and fold them.
i actually never knew how to use a washing machine until last year.
finally learning to do so was rewarding in and of itself.
laundry, to me, used to be a collection of my family's clothes,
my family's experiences,
my family's memories.
transitioning to being more independent,
my laundry now only consists of my own clothes,
my own experiences,
my own memories,
and my own new clothes in the pile,
some of which have never even mingled with that of my family's.
soon, all of my current clothes will become too worn and dirty,
and my entire laundry pile will consist completely of new clothes.
clothes only familiar with my experiences and memories.
and eventually,
laundry, to me, will become my own family's clothes.
someday, i'll be folding tiny baby clothes of my own children,
again folding women's clothing of my significant other,
and way in the future, when they're big enough,
i'll be mixing up my children's clothes with my own.
as long as i don't leave the house naked
or wear nasty, worn clothes everyday,
laundry will always be there.
there will never be a time in my life without laundry.
it will only continue to cycle through,
clean, dirty, clean, dirty,
and i can observe my life's development
through the clothes i fold.
all i know is that
laundry is change,
laundry is new beginnings,
laundry is independence,
laundry is love.
even as i write,
i have a pile of dirty clothes behind me waiting to get cleaned,
and a pile of warm, freshly folded clothes sitting happily in my cabinet.
friends, loved ones,
one of these days,
let's all get together and fold each other's clothes for old time's sake.
ain't no better way to show love.
hey friend,
can i fold your clothes?
1.19.08, 12:20 a.m.
I just made a new screen name after hella years. Just because.
So to all who know me as the64ozbadboy.. please add to your buddy list:
FartBlaster5000.
Yes, that is the new me.
Good day.
So every year I have written up this huge list of resolutions for the new year which in reality I can check off only one or two things that actually were achieved. I look back on those lists and laugh at the idealistic mindstate in which I write these goals. Thus, I'm starting a new list that will encompass my goals for this new year and hopefully isn't too big for my reality.
1. Achieve Financial Stability: my current financial state is not something I'm proud of. Yet, not significant enough to keep me from making it better. This year I am starting a savings account and paying off as much debt as possible.
2. Grow into my Relationship: 2006 and 2007 were definitely challenging years to my relationship. So many changes, challenges, and obstacles were placed in front of us, but we got through them TOGETHER. Now that all of the insignificant and meaningless happenings are over and erased, I want to start growing together. I hope to achieve complete security with my relationship and grow toward the next step in our relationship. 2008 marks our 7 year anniversary and I feel it's time to take on a new phase in our relationship.
3. Live Healthily: Every year I plan to workout and eat better. This is one of the most difficult things to keep up with, but with dedication and productive time management, this goal is definitely achieveable. This includes my holistic mental, physical and emotional health needs to be maintained.
4. Stay Focused: The academic world is so overwhelming senior year of college. With graduation so close, the mindset of moving forward beyond undergrad studies takes over and my current studies suffer. I need to stay focused and put my utmost effort into these last few months of school.
5. Learn Organization: Life can become overwhelming if my external world is disorganized. I'm hoping to stay organized and learn to live my life in a clean space. Once again time management and dedication is essential in achieving this goal.
6. Love Freely: I'm learning how to put down my guards and just appreciate people for who they are. Friends have come and gone in my life and it's time to move forward and just love the people that are in my life. This next year, I hope to grow into my new friendships and continue to restore old ones. My true friends have definitely shined through this past year when I most needed them. I need to nurture and appreciate these friendships and just LOVE!
I think 6 goals are definitely reachable. I wish everyone and amazing year! =)