i will never forgive you for changing me.
sonnet one
you and me
sonnet one
your eyes the heaven that i seek when
the night shelters a soul trapped in disbelief
then i would hear the inviting echo
of your laughter drowning the memory
of a heart left wounded and alone
embraced by emptiness when the distant
winter abandons the hope of
finding my dreams in you and losing
myself to you all over again, like a stream
that flow towards the river creating
meaning and reason why
you and i exist, why wishes and
prayers are answered when
i seek the heaven in your eyes.
lonestar
allow me this pensiveness, for this is all that i could offer.
i met ernesto...where else but that God-forsaken place (for those who knew him...you'd know where)...no actually, let me say this ~ it was and is still a God-forsaken place but he made it tolerable for me, for erick and jerlen. having said that...i just want to make it clear that i am able to tolerate so many things and thrive because i have him in my life. because he is that constant friend anyone can surely count on.
allow me to speak of him. allow me to remember the venerable doyen of fire.
oo ernesto, ikaw yun!
i met ernesto...where else but that God-forsaken place (for those who knew him...you'd know where)...no actually, let me say this ~ it was and is still a God-forsaken place but he made it tolerable for me, for erick and jerlen. having said that...i just want to make it clear that i am able to tolerate so many things and thrive because i have him in my life. because he is that constant friend anyone can surely count on. i remember our first conversation being about sinead o'connor and sarah mclachlan. later on we perceived that we share more than a great interest in music...we love to muse over things that seem to not make sense to other people, we love films, we love coffee, we love poetry, we love angelina jolie.
he was there when i needed light for my path was dark and the my fears were unrelenting. now, even with this immense distance between us, for some magical reason he is able to do the exact same thing ~ speak to my soul and calm my nerves (ahahah). he is real. his friendship is real. and i am basking in his love and understanding right now.
i am sorry, ernie, if i failed you ~ if i failed in telling the entire world how great you are. you are such a wonderful being and emphatically, your doyens' lives would rot in ennui if not for you.
when i hear the word 'doyen' what comes to mind are thoughts about three people who have changed my life. three people who have made it possible for me to carry my burden and angst and have aided me in ridding myself of my worries and demons, even for a short period of time. when i hear the word 'doyen' what comes to mind are ideas about our differences ~ educational backgrounds, places of origin, age (if you will), talking decibels. but somehow, because of our natural aptitude to blend in the commonplace, we were able to discover something in each other that ultimately will bind us ~ friendship.
and that is why i am assured that even when i have not seen you for over a year...we remain to be each other's kindred spirit. i am grateful for you...even if that meant torturing you with having to keep my secrets and having to listen to me whine about anything and everything. that's what friendship is all about ~ it is love elevated to the level of blackmail. ahahaha
more than anything, ernie...i want to let you know that you are a lonestar no more (i am calling this post 'lonestar' because you told me you really love this norah jones song and because you feel that you are one). you will never be alone in your struggles, my love. you will never be alone in your crusade. you have permitted me to breathe by casting your love and light upon me. now, let me do the same for you.
let me be one of those who will love you unconditionally and without prejudice. let me be one of those who will stand by you and for you. let me be one of those who is blessed to have you as a friend. you are one of the most loving, loyal, intelligent and trustworthy beings i know (pardon me if describing you that way will give people the impression i am talking about a dog ehehehe).
i am proud to be your friend, i am delighted to be in your life. you are right when you said that the world will be better if we feed it love. i can only hope that everyone thinks like you, that everyone will share the same optimism. you are one of the reasons i know that life is good despite the bad, that life is a gift despite its curses. you are one of the reasons i know i can survive anything. because your courage gives me strength. because your faith gives me air. because your fire is unyielding.
because the doyens never will cease.
i love you, ernie.
overcast
i followed you because i understood what it meant to keep what we have. because i know what it means to fight for what we have.
i followed you because i do not want to wonder the rest of my life about things that might have been. and because i do not want to wander on the roads less travelled or the roads not taken. i want to be where you are. i want for every step and every turn to take me to you.
i followed you because i love you. it was a conscious decision, a choice, a reality i was impelled to make. it was a truth i have to live.
but the last couple of days have been immensely dark for me. as if i have been robbed of my freedom, or as if i never had any freedom to begin with.
i hate having to do this perfunctory dance with people who will never understand, or dare to understand. having to explain myself when the worth of my words will amount to nothing, will mean nothing. when the value of my thoughts will result to nothing, when all my reasons will be lost to those who will never attempt to keep their minds open.
i followed you because i knew i had to. i followed you because i knew it meant living. i followed you because i knew life is so much better with you in it.
but having done this ~ having fulfilled my choices does not give anyone the liberty to look down on me just because we are different in terms of our beliefs. i wonder whatever happened to respect. having made the risks that i took does not give anyobody the right to discriminate me.
i am living my life the way i want to. why don't we all just do the same thing? respect begets respect. it is something that cannot simply be elicited but one that must be earned the hard way. how do we respect those who discriminate against us, those who look down on us, those who will never understand because they are confined and drowning in their own judgment?
love, etc.
My ride going to work today made me nauseous. I am not sure if it was the car freshener (that black colored pine tree dangling on the rear view mirror – I don’t know what scent was) or the medley of remixed novelty songs with the same haunting beat.
Anyway, after discovering that alien life may just thrive in my room, I decided to clean it this afternoon. My shift earlier ended at 10 am, I was home around 12 nn. I felt the urge of covering my books so I did…I don’t know why but it took me almost an hour. Maybe it’s the sweltering heat. Our thought process is ‘slower’ when it’s hot. Or perhaps it’s just me. I have always felt different…like I have a weird extra chromosome or something.
So I ended up going to bed around 5 pm. I had to wake up at 8:30 pm because my shift tonight starts at 10. That simply means that my brain matter is desiccated and that I am on my way to being completely, totally, utterly wasted. I’m just waiting for that moment to dawn.
Before I went to sleep I looked through my journals/date books from the last couple of years. I came across a quote by a genius named ‘Asoka.’ He said that ‘Love wounds in a way that does not let you live or die.’
Then I thought to myself: how concise and apt. And I thought of what he said some more, and realized: now I feel really horrible.
Love is a battlefield, a song from the 80’s proclaimed. Love is more than a battlefield. It is a freakin theatre of war. It sometimes is the reason for our nightmares, the reason why we dread going to sleep and waking up. Love is both a soft cushion and a mattress of daggers. Love can sometimes be so impossible and can also open all the plausibility for you. In short, it contradicts itself. It is its own worst enemy. It brings out the best and the worst in each of us. Love looks at us when everything slips into hysteria and laughs and stomps on us some more. Yet it is the same love that takes us out of the decay, the murk, the darkness, the halt.
Love is a lot like yin and yang. Positive cannot survive without the negative. They feed on each other, I suppose in that sense, to strike a balance. One finds perfection in its incompleteness.
I say love lasts longer than life (I actually wrote that line when I was in college, that was when I was head over heels in love with my seven year pseudo lover. After 5 or 6 years, the hopeless incurable romantic in me still would like to believe that one of love’s grandest qualities is that it’s enduring). Many of us have fumbled and tumbled for love and because of love. If you are reading this and you haven’t, do not worry for it is bound to happen.
And when it does, muster all the courage you have to take that leap of faith, to journey towards an unknown territory with neither beginning nor end.
Only the promise of pain and delight. The promise of death and life.
tempus fugit
September 20. Mark this date, my mother uttered (sounds like mother otter nyahaha), as there are only 96 days before Christmas.
Which made me think: what did I do September 20th of last year? Which begs the question: what have I done in my life?
I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like a total sloth – I don’t know what I so far have achieved in my life. Sometimes like a total lunatic – I keep on rambling and worrying myself about things that I feel I need to do, stuff that I think I have to do but have not done yet. Just writing about it makes me feel I have gone harebrained.
The year is about to close. About to. Having said that makes me feel like a disaster will befall me.
Usually, moments like this prompts one to reflect on what has been and reconsider what shall be. I don’t know if I want to do that – not because I don’t see the value of pondering about things that have passed but because I am terrified to discover that I haven’t really accomplished anything.
Every year, each one of us (I suppose) ascertains things that we want to change or continue when the New Year comes. They are called ‘resolution/s.’ Each year we push ourselves to find our resolve, we push ourselves to look at different aspects of our lives that can be amended or that can be improved.
Most often than not, we come up with a list of these so-called resolutions. I have made my peace about it. I have resolved to not create any resolutions at all. Though I know it is easier for some people to make things happen when they are constantly reminded of it, I will delight in each day that unfolds before my eyes.
Each day I am given the chance to tweak things that need to be altered, a chance to tuck my worries and fears away, all because I know that I will be afforded a different sunrise and if things would have to end, I know that I have done the very best that I can.
period
I know you probably think I am nuts to spend time pondering on this. But I just have to. I am, however, speaking only for myself. I am not sure if the entire female population will agree with me on this.
Up to this moment I still am unsure as to the reason why the ‘time of the month’ is called ‘period.’
When I was in elementary, we had discussions about the male and female reproductive system. My teachers can attest that my aversion to discuss, even study the latter was apparent. I don’t know…maybe then it was all because I couldn’t relate. Nyahaha.
So yeah, we were told about the birds and the bees, but not at length though. I remember being petrified by the idea of having not only to deal with my period monthly but the truth that my body would have to go through cramps that just seemed endless.
As I was saying…12 years later I still am puzzled why they termed it period…and not, say, hell (okay, I know…as individuals some of us go through far worse things…the monthly cycle cannot possibly feel like swimming through eternal fire). I am just saying that it should not be called ‘period,’ that it should not be called simply ‘period.’
A period of what?
A period of discomfort? Perhaps a period of agony? A period of paranoia – all because you may or may not have a stain!? A period of drought…because again, it would be very unhygienic to totally be mindless of this and be sexually active. Maybe it can also be called a period of malady as it is very difficult to move when you have it. Perhaps we can also term it period of mood swings…because one time or another hell has broken loose…as the female body goes through waves and surges of hormones. And take note - this happens every single effin month.
I am such a whiner, I know. But I only whine each time I get it. Ahehehe. I suppose no one will ever get used to it. My mom once told me that she never wished for anything more than to have her menopause. We’re all headed there I know. But before that happens, let me conceive a ababy first, okay?!
Now dig this…after years and years of getting a ‘period,’ when you do experience menopause, it still won’t be easy. You suffer hot flashes, night sweats, insomnia, your skin becomes thinner and you become more susceptible to infection. It basically means time is putting a halt to your reproductive system.
It is not easy to be a woman. It is not easy to go through all these phases in your life. This simply affirms the truth that the female species are far more enduring than their counterpart. This tells us that we are stronger – regardless of the facet – we are stronger physically, emotionally, psychologically.
I remember a guy friend of mine who would laugh and proudly say that men do not have to go through that kind of trouble. I say it does not mean you are luckier. I could just imagine how you all would look like when you have hot flashes or when you have to face persistent paranoia and queasiness.
I rest my case. Period.
Up to this moment I still am unsure as to the reason why the ‘time of the month’ is called ‘period.’
When I was in elementary, we had discussions about the male and female reproductive system. My teachers can attest that my aversion to discuss, even study the latter was apparent. I don’t know…maybe then it was all because I couldn’t relate. Nyahaha.
So yeah, we were told about the birds and the bees, but not at length though. I remember being petrified by the idea of having not only to deal with my period monthly but the truth that my body would have to go through cramps that just seemed endless.
As I was saying…12 years later I still am puzzled why they termed it period…and not, say, hell (okay, I know…as individuals some of us go through far worse things…the monthly cycle cannot possibly feel like swimming through eternal fire). I am just saying that it should not be called ‘period,’ that it should not be called simply ‘period.’
A period of what?
A period of discomfort? Perhaps a period of agony? A period of paranoia – all because you may or may not have a stain!? A period of drought…because again, it would be very unhygienic to totally be mindless of this and be sexually active. Maybe it can also be called a period of malady as it is very difficult to move when you have it. Perhaps we can also term it period of mood swings…because one time or another hell has broken loose…as the female body goes through waves and surges of hormones. And take note - this happens every single effin month.
I am such a whiner, I know. But I only whine each time I get it. Ahehehe. I suppose no one will ever get used to it. My mom once told me that she never wished for anything more than to have her menopause. We’re all headed there I know. But before that happens, let me conceive a ababy first, okay?!
Now dig this…after years and years of getting a ‘period,’ when you do experience menopause, it still won’t be easy. You suffer hot flashes, night sweats, insomnia, your skin becomes thinner and you become more susceptible to infection. It basically means time is putting a halt to your reproductive system.
It is not easy to be a woman. It is not easy to go through all these phases in your life. This simply affirms the truth that the female species are far more enduring than their counterpart. This tells us that we are stronger – regardless of the facet – we are stronger physically, emotionally, psychologically.
I remember a guy friend of mine who would laugh and proudly say that men do not have to go through that kind of trouble. I say it does not mean you are luckier. I could just imagine how you all would look like when you have hot flashes or when you have to face persistent paranoia and queasiness.
I rest my case. Period.
a little trivia on my big appetite
Let me tell you something about myself.
I am a baconer. At least to Nosh, I am. She calls me a baconer sometimes. A baconer is of course a pig/swine that is raised (to be slaughtered) with its meat to be used as bacon. Mainly, a baconer weighs around 83 to 100 lbs.
When I was in junior high…I got high one summer vacation – with all the donuts I inhaled then – I tipped around 115-120 lbs. I knew I was a little heavy, and felt like it. I stood 5’3” and I cannot wear my favorite jeans or boxer shorts.
I was young, I was insecure about my legs but never about my weight. Nothing was enough to push me to go on diet or something.
College changed everything for me. I suppose it was the pressure. It’s an entirely new environment, an entirely different universe, if you may. The pressure to do better each and everyday at my class was just staggering. And that’s when I started losing weight. I dropped to 98 lbs. and has never ‘recovered’ since.
Well aside from the pressure, my genetic structure (so much for sounding too technical) has a lot to do with it. Thanks Mom and Dad ~ I never have to worry about how much sugar or calorie my food has before I put it in my mouth.
My idea of working out is eating a full and heavy rice meal, say, a couple of rice servings, then watching TV then sleeping. That’s my version of a triathlon. When I wake up it’s as if I did not eat at all. I am famished.
It is funny how people would react to my thinness. I am underweight for my age and height and my bosses would always ask if I am taking my lunch breaks on time or if I do actually eat. One of them even asked me if I have diabetes because I am just so thin. I of course opposed her notion and casually said that I am blessed with good genes. Nyahahah.
Also, I have a very peculiar appetite. I can eat a huge guapple (guava the size of an apple…ahehehe…Filipinos are so original and inventive!) in one sitting. One time I woke up around 2 in the morning and I ate guapple. And it did not seem to help so I ate peanut butter sandwich and drank a glass of full cream milk. For me, it was satiating my hunger. For others, this might just be a recipe for disaster…or a really upset stomach.
I am a baconer. At least to Nosh, I am. She calls me a baconer sometimes. A baconer is of course a pig/swine that is raised (to be slaughtered) with its meat to be used as bacon. Mainly, a baconer weighs around 83 to 100 lbs.
When I was in junior high…I got high one summer vacation – with all the donuts I inhaled then – I tipped around 115-120 lbs. I knew I was a little heavy, and felt like it. I stood 5’3” and I cannot wear my favorite jeans or boxer shorts.
I was young, I was insecure about my legs but never about my weight. Nothing was enough to push me to go on diet or something.
College changed everything for me. I suppose it was the pressure. It’s an entirely new environment, an entirely different universe, if you may. The pressure to do better each and everyday at my class was just staggering. And that’s when I started losing weight. I dropped to 98 lbs. and has never ‘recovered’ since.
Well aside from the pressure, my genetic structure (so much for sounding too technical) has a lot to do with it. Thanks Mom and Dad ~ I never have to worry about how much sugar or calorie my food has before I put it in my mouth.
My idea of working out is eating a full and heavy rice meal, say, a couple of rice servings, then watching TV then sleeping. That’s my version of a triathlon. When I wake up it’s as if I did not eat at all. I am famished.
It is funny how people would react to my thinness. I am underweight for my age and height and my bosses would always ask if I am taking my lunch breaks on time or if I do actually eat. One of them even asked me if I have diabetes because I am just so thin. I of course opposed her notion and casually said that I am blessed with good genes. Nyahahah.
Also, I have a very peculiar appetite. I can eat a huge guapple (guava the size of an apple…ahehehe…Filipinos are so original and inventive!) in one sitting. One time I woke up around 2 in the morning and I ate guapple. And it did not seem to help so I ate peanut butter sandwich and drank a glass of full cream milk. For me, it was satiating my hunger. For others, this might just be a recipe for disaster…or a really upset stomach.
my desire moves
before nosh left for work, she mentioned something. she said that she desires me...and that her desire encompasses all that creates me and makes me who i am.
i cannot help but look back to everything we have done and made for each other. it has been 21 months (21 months and 7 days, to be exact), and she has, never for once, not been able to make me feel desired. she has allowed me to see all that is good in me.
she is the absolute good in me.
it is interesting to know that we have been together a long time yet i waking up beside her every morning takes me back to the very beginning. to our beginning.
having her in my life is one of the best things about being alive. when i was younger, i was compulsive, i sometimes act without thinking, and have, from time to time, thought of giving up on myself. good thing i did not. otherwise i would have missed being with her. i would have missed this very moment ~ writing about how much i feel for her, writing about how much she has made me feel.
i did not believe i would find someone, let alone love again. but she happened. we are here. she took me this far. and getting this far makes me feel so blessed. to be able to find a person to share our lives with is something worth hoping for, for many...but to know that the person we love the most is loving us back and is staying with us ~ that remains to be a dream for some.
she made that dream come true. ever since her i have never stopped being grateful to Him for allowing me this chance at life. she is the reason why i remained ~ argument after argument. that is because she has made me understand that what we have is something that does not happen often. and that what we have is to be nourished, nurtured and kept.
my desire moves. she moves and dances with me. she is the light and life of my soul. she is the bearer of my faith and hope. she is the one i love.
and she is the only one. now and always.
all good things
i am still a little unstable, still a little depressed. i still feel a little unlike my old self.
i don't know what struck me tonight. but i suddenly felt the compulsion to write about him.
the only other guy i was ever in love with, aside from Fox Mulder.
yes. i am talking about him. the one who made me feel like an aberration.
i wanted to write about him because i know that i feel different now. when i wrote 'aberration' more than a couple of years ago, i was hurting, i was not able to understand a lot of things, i was unable to see where he's coming from.
i am not saying i have perfect comprehension of what he said to me that time, but at least, i know now that the dust has settled. for those who do not know - i am talking about the huge sandstorm between him and myself. so yeah, the dust has settled.
i have not seen him for over a year. or has it been two years? we have known each other for more than ten years. i know that's a lot of years...in both our lives and on our faces.
i feel a little weird having realized that he knew the adolescent me. we met a few months after my father died. he was a nerd. i was a geek. i think in that way we complemented and attracted each other. i learned a lot from him. he definitely was more mature than me at that time - despite only being a year older.
i suppose i wanted to reassure him, though i am not certain he knows that i have written about him or that i am writing about him now, that i cherish the friendship that we have, and that it means more to me than all the havoc that we have caused each other when we were younger.
he saved me, in a way. he was a brother, a father, a friend, a lover. he was all that. he was in my life just in time to help me get out of the darkness when the pain of losing my dad was eating me alive. he was there to show me and make me realize that i am strong and that there is nothing that i cannot do.
it was never an 'us.' what i meant was that we never became a couple. but we both knew we loved each other and respected each other. he saw me and saw through me in so many different ways. i want to end this saying that i am completely over him...i am completely over the pain and the angst and the loneliness. i realized that even when he had his share of relationships, i never was really alone. he never left me. he was there as a friend.
he was there all the time as a person i can entrust my life to. he was there with me as he is and his friendship is with me now.
it feels good to know that after years and years of struggling to get over him, to not be sad about not being with him ~ i finally have found my peace.
i now only remember good things about him. and i am grateful.
aberration
My best friend…or I mean, my ‘supposed’ best guy friend and I have known each other for almost a decade. Our last conversation left me wounded and wondering about where all those years that we have spent together as friends went. I wasn’t really feeling good that day. I had cough and a terrible cold. I could not speak too much but decided to give him a call just to see how he’s doing. After all that we have been through…yeah, you name it, the good, the bad, the obvious, even the ugly…it never really occurred to me that it’ll be a big deal (as to who calls who first). And I was never the kind to ask for anything. I am content with what we share with each other and am quite sure we aren’t expecting anything more from each other than what we could both offer. I do not remember all the details, and am not even sure how we got to the point where he told me: I think you are putting so much in this ‘relationship.’ (take note: ‘relationship’) So I have mentioned earlier I really cannot speak or hear too well that day…I was plain sick. And his little ill-timed confession only made my condition worse. And up to this moment, writing about that day…I can still hear his words resonate in my head: ‘I think you are putting so much in this relationship…’ And I honestly do not know what or how to feel. It felt like I have been maimed by this truth…I felt my heart fall towards the ground, it felt like my skin was slowly being ripped and someone…no, actually, the same best friend I was talking about…was rubbing salt on my wounds. I cannot believe those words came from him. Which begs the question…what kind of a psychotic response is that? The hell? What did I ever do to you to make me feel this way? Like crap, specifically. So as you would have predicted…I was crying myself to death at that moment…my tears just flowed and there was a point I felt dehydrated already. And I wasn’t speaking much anymore…though I remember telling him that he’s not in the position to tell me what I can do and what I cannot do, that he cannot tell me who I should offer my friendship and time to and who I should not deal with at all. I was just listening to him make sense of his own senselessness…and then something happened…the quote of the day (or the year…or the century…or the era) suddenly fell from his lips…he said: ‘So let me fill you in.’ And he’s expecting me to feel good about it? What did he think his words were…some sort of an elixir, a panacea, a universal remedy…that I’ll be cured of my sickness (in the head…and the heart) just because he wanted to fill me in?
You bet he needs to fill me in but I don’t want anyone to expect I’ll wait for another seven and a half years for him to honor his words. For God’s sake…I was bothered by his choice of words, to start with. He made me feel like I was this seven and a half year aberration. He completely ruined everything that meant anything to me. It wasn’t just the friendship that was trivialized…but also me, or what I have gone through. I always have believed that in any relationship…it never should matter who says sorry first, who apologizes first, who tries to reach out first, because that is what we are all supposed to do…attempt to understand one another. And if the friendship, the love, the person is worth it…then you should give it a chance, right? Give it a chance, and another, and another and another…as much as the heart can endure. And that’s what I have been doing…enduring the pain and the bitterness and the truth that this other person and I can never be. It is hard to fathom, and sometimes I find it…unbelievable I lingered for seven years…in the hope that he’d see me the way I would like for him to. But it never felt like something that I should regret. I mean, I gave it a shot…and like what Alfred Lord Tennyson said: ‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.’
It really does not matter to me whether all the seven years (or more) that I spent harboring all sorts of feelings for him were put to waste and unrequited. The point is, I did what I wanted to do, and what I can do. Without fears. Without hesitations. I am not the one in the losing end here. All these years, I always have compared every single guy I meet with this best friend. A little unfair, I know, but I think highly of him…or let me put it another way…I only thought of him. How can I not? He’s my first love, my first kiss (an experience which eventually and ultimately paved way to me being claustrophobic), and my first major heartbreak. And he’s always been the first…the first one to give up, the first one to move away, and the first one to let go. Perhaps in that sense we really are meant for each other. I feel like I am back to my old usual self (but not really my normal self) and it feels good that I now can find humor in what has happened. I know it will all pass…I just am not sure when. I am not sure if I can ever say I don’t love this person anymore…because I know I always will. I guess I am just the kind of person who would always remember the good times. But I also need to acknowledge the fact that I cannot permit him to treat me the way he has. I finally have stumbled upon the ‘end.’ The end that I long have avoided…because I believed that we still have a chance. Because I believed that I can make things work. But it takes two to tango…and I cannot do the dancing all by myself. I believe I am in that part of my existence where I realized I don’t need him, or anyone for that matter, to thrive. My thoughts would not change…I still am happy that I met him. I never would deny him that. I owe him the realization that I will not be as strong as I am now if not for him. And if not for him, I would not have discovered how much (of myself) I could sacrifice for another person, how much I am willing to bare myself and get scarred and bruised and still believe it was all worth it in the end.
I might have lost the person…or even the possibility of sharing a lifetime with him…but I certainly did not lose that perfect instant I caught his gaze aimed at me…I certainly did not lose myself for loving him so much. After all, you never lose by loving…you only lose by holding back.
Written April 30, 2006
guess what
you will not believe this.
remember that about the same time last week, i posted an entry aptly titled 'grrrr...'?
for those who do not want to scroll through the crazy things that i have written...let me give you a gist:
i was talking about this boy who was playing some wicked online game, who kept yelling until, well, until his throat is sore (he sounded like his throat is sore). he still yells, by the way. i suppose there's not much to hope for this boy.
a week ago he was a seat away from me.
tonight he's right beside me.
fate is wicked. fate is being impossible. fate is testing me.
his mom just walked past me. i wanted to seriously stop her and ask her to take her son with her when she leaves the room.
i am not sure why i did not.
it's that time of the month for me. i never have had any mood swings when the red flag is up. but i just might.
my blood is clotting.
grrrrr...
remember that about the same time last week, i posted an entry aptly titled 'grrrr...'?
for those who do not want to scroll through the crazy things that i have written...let me give you a gist:
i was talking about this boy who was playing some wicked online game, who kept yelling until, well, until his throat is sore (he sounded like his throat is sore). he still yells, by the way. i suppose there's not much to hope for this boy.
a week ago he was a seat away from me.
tonight he's right beside me.
fate is wicked. fate is being impossible. fate is testing me.
his mom just walked past me. i wanted to seriously stop her and ask her to take her son with her when she leaves the room.
i am not sure why i did not.
it's that time of the month for me. i never have had any mood swings when the red flag is up. but i just might.
my blood is clotting.
grrrrr...
o.p. again
Option Paralysis.
This only happens to me when I go to Duty Free in Clark. I didn’t believe it would happen to me anywhere else until yesterday.
I went to the 29th Manila International Book Fair and I got lost in the midst of all the freakin books and yes…I was immediately struck by option paralysis.
The fair is being held on all four halls of the building…which meant excruciating pain on your feet after 30 minutes of walking or let me put it another way…after 30 minutes of going against a sea of warm bodies. My eyes got tired of browsing through all the titles.
I overheard one teenager blurt out: ‘Books are abound!!!’ Honey, that is supposed to be the case.
I was able to get myself a couple of poetry books, one by Merlinda Bobis and another by Rio Alma. The moment I stepped inside the building, I told myself that I would never leave that place empty handed. It took me some time to get books of my interest but it was all worth it.
As expected, the stuff that I buy these days end up getting stacked on my bookshelves. I don’t know. I have a lot many books at home that I haven’t really read. I keep buying books because I love to read. It is my passion. For some reason I feel like if I cannot read all that I have on my bookshelf, the same books will serve solace when I am old (or older).
But the highlight of my day yesterday wasn’t the book fair (though I had a blast).
It was my nephew Botchok.
I got him a copy of Time’s 2008 Kids Almanac. I got home around 6:15 pm. He was the one who opened the door for me. I told him that I got him something and when he saw the book his face lit up and I know I just made his day.
I went to my room and tried to sort my ‘library.’ He came in and asked me for an envelope and a piece of paper. I gave him what he asked for and went back to arranging my books (by the way, I usually arrange my books per author but I am thinking of arranging them per genre. But that would make me look so OC).
After a few minutes, he knocked and handed me something. He scribbled my name on this little orange envelope. When I opened it, I saw the paper I gave him. He drew a house and wrote his name under it. Maybe he meant that he has found a home in me, a home in us…my mom and my sister.
I swear my eyes cried baby tears for his gesture of gratitude. I am a little teary eyed as I am writing this.
And that’s when I was reminded that the best things in life aren’t things. The best things we can ever have in our lives are people and moments.
When he’s old enough, I would want for him to read this.
I want for him to know that the very reason why I started collecting books is so that he’ll have good materials to read when he grows up (I would imagine him writing a review about 100 years of solitude for his Fourth Grade book report…or recite Again, Nocturne in front of his Sixth Grade class).
And I want to let him know that he is one of the best things that ever happened to our family. And that he is and will always be a part of our family.
Thank you, Botchok. As much as you think I made your day, you emphatically made mine too.
You are one of the reasons why I keep believing that I am a good person. You are one of the reasons I know I can never give up.
my state of mind
Is currently unstable.
Allow me to rephrase that. I am still unstable. Which means I was unstable before…as I have been for the last week.
I sometimes feel like a noble gas or a noble gas compound. I am highly unstable they placed me way back the Periodic Table of Elements.
I think I can also be highly combustible so all of you who see a smirk on my face at 1 in the morning, please save yourselves. Do not come near me…just yet.
Everything in my life is so weird right now, all because I do not feel like I have control – any form of control at all – about the things that will happen to me. Some of the things that I fear will happen to me might already have happened, I was just too unstable to notice.
I know I am such a huge blob of negativity. I have not spoken of anything the last couple of days except my depression. My depression of the unknown. I know that the more I profess that something really sad and dark is going on in my life, the more they all become real. I know that yet I am maimed. I cannot move on. I am stuck in this phase with a ball and chain. How apt.
Work seems to be okay. There are times I would feel I am just ‘crusin.’ That I am able to do the things that I need to accomplish without any barriers, without any hassles. Then there are days I just feel so apathetic. That I could care less of how the day will end.
More accurately, I am there but my mind is somewhere else.
I believe some people have effortlessly mastered this trick. It is often regarded as the ‘out of the body’ experience – this usually happens when you drag your unwilling self to do something that your entire system is revolting against.
Going back to me…one of my favorite topics (eheheh) - I feel so totally detached from the universe. I am beginning to think that maybe my forefathers weren’t even from this galaxy. Weird, I know.
For days, I have been trying to battle this depression. I know that this causes discomfort to Nosh, yet I know I cannot rush things. Everything takes time. I am just grateful that she's exercising every bit of patience she's got.
If anything, I am proud of the fact that I am trying to suck everything in by not being such a pussy – meaning I am admitting that there is something wrong – writing about it is a way for me to acknowledge that my bolt and screws are all wobbly…or are all in the wrong places. At least I am squaring my shoulders to the world and taking it all in…instead of running away from it. We never can escape who we are…or what we are and what we should be at a certain moment.
That thought makes me hopeful. Alas, there is a glimmer of light in this black expanse.
That in the midst of helplessness and frustration, I can find ‘me’ again.
roads
i know i have pushed you to the edge of the end of us one time too many. i am uncertain if you would believe, but i am in awe of your fortitude and understanding. perhaps at one point i wanted for you to do nothing but give up on me. but you are still here. we are still here. i think that says something. we are going to unravel so many things about ourselves and about each other in this journey, in this life. no matter how difficult things get i will remain with you and battle the harsh road.
thank you for taking me this far.
happy 21st, Mine. i love you.
grrrr...
i will be alone at home tonight, as nosh needs to go to work. i'm inside an internet shop hoping to write something. i am struggling and could not find the light so that i can extract whatever's left of my brain tonight and share it with you guys.
don't get me wrong - i love children. i am taking care of a 6-year old nephew who generally is a pain in the butt but i would rather sit beside botchok than be within a 50-mile radius of this kid.
i am seething, i am totally pissed right now. there is this boy - i am guessing around 6-7 years old - he's renting the PC a seat away from me. i suppose he's playing some network game with 10 other kids inside the shop. but this one is different. he kinda reminds me of that boy wearing a red devil suit in the movie 'serendipity.'
imp from hell - i think in a parallel universe, the kid i am talking about would probably look like the picture above. this little boy seems to be having a fit every minute or so. he yells (actually he just yelled and my ears are already bleeding) a l0t - some of the words in baby talk, i suppose. there is no doubt he will have sore throat tonight because of all the yelling - which, i hope would mean he won't be showing up in the shop the next few days. i cannot understand what he's saying. he literally laughs like a hyena (a baby hyena, perhaps) but sounds more like a parent's worst nightmare.
i can't believe i am exhausting myself by writing about him. i think the universe has just found another way to humor me, if not annoy me.
i seriously want to send this kid home. tell his mom and his dad to never let him out of their house. ask if he can be grounded until he's 25. his voice is abrasive. as i have mentioned, my ears are tortured to no end now.
i swear that if i hear one more yell from this kid i will slap him senseless. or maybe not. i have better things to do.
humor me
What could be worst than being stuck with an obnoxious, insensitive man wearing tight-fitting jeans, vaguely resembling an iguana with a blond mohawk on a trip that lasts a minimum of an hour and a half?
What could be worst?
I say nothing. NOTHING. NADA. ZILCH. NIL.
I went to Clark yesterday and on my way home I rode an air conditioned Five Star bus. I remember being able to read ‘and’ comprehend that which I am reading until the person I was referring to above appeared.
He looked like somebody who just got resurrected – from the 80’s that is. When I saw him I seriously wanted to yell: ‘Ang sakit sa bangs!’ but I, of course, had to control my temper, as I am not prepared to witness a commotion inside the bus just yet.
I did mention he wore a pair of tight-fitting jeans, right? Yeah. The fabric was so tight, his derriere can not be found anywhere ehehehe. Terrible fashion faux-pas. I am not saying that I am the authority when it comes to clothing but please, I think it does not take more than common sense to always see to it that you do not wear outfits that make the/your ‘bulges’ (or the lack thereof) too obvious. Do yourself a favor, Iguana Man – call the Fashion Police for a much needed guidance.
And my agony did not end there. On long trips, I usually just try to doze off so I won’t end up exhausting my eyes. They’re playing the movie ‘The Mummy 3’ on the bus and the volume was at its zenith, this way everyone inside the bus can hear the dialogue. It was still tolerable until my attempt to rest my eyes and my brain was interrupted by Iguana Man. His phone rang and he answered the call speaking on the top of his lungs. He definitely butchered what’s left of my eardrums. He continued to howl like a wolf in wilderness for a good 15 minutes. He probably thought he sounded cute. Not quite, buddy. Not quite.
I am not saying no one is allowed to answer their phones while traveling. We might be watching a movie, but we’re not exactly inside a theatre. I suppose what I am trying to point out here is that you do not have to have education to have good manners. You can talk to anyone over the phone for hours (people really won’t care) just as long as you keep your voice at a down. Have mercy on the passengers.
I have mentioned that I currently am stricken by depression (of what, I do not know. I only know that I have extreme mood swings. I can really be grouchy. Sorry.). Maybe it’s the universe’ way of humoring me…by having me cross paths with Iguana Man. Maybe I am supposed to learn something from this encounter. Maybe it’s just some sick test to find out if I am paying attention to things, if I can focus on other things aside from my depression. I am uncertain if there’s some valuable lesson in store for me here. Maybe there is. Maybe there isn’t. Maybe everything that transpired happened so that I can write and prove that…
The sadder I get, the (nastier, eheheh) more creative I become.
officially
Without much ado, let me just tell you that I am officially freaked out and depressed.
Yesterday, I spent half of the day crying. I only stopped because my eyes started to hurt really bad and my vision is already blurred. I was actually waiting for my body to start weeping blood, it did not happen.
I guess I am on a crossroad again. The thing with me is that there seems to be no end to the forks on my road. Just like any fiend, the forks appear when I least expect it. Hence, I often would catch myself falling on the decrepit mud that is my life – face down.
Yeah. I suppose it is inevitable that I drown in my own misery. I think I already am.
I have not been in this place in my life, ever. It scares the hell out of me. Suddenly I feel like blogging has become a form of psychotherapy. Knowing that I can blabber about anything and everything and never think for once that those who read my stuff will judge me. That is a comforting thought.
On one hand, if there is anything good I know that’s gonna come out this – it is the truth that when I am sad, I get to write more. So yeah, more posts. Hopefully, no more dilemmas in not being able to write anything. But wait – it just made me realize - my biggest dilemma to date is how to get myself out of this abyss.
The abyss just feels so endless. There is nothing there except doubt and darkness and wretchedness. I do not feel so healthy. My mind is going to a gazillion direction right now and feeling good about myself is not one of them, unfortunately.
The weirder thing is that I know I seem fine on the outside. I know that my eyebags are ‘puffier’ than usual but that’s it. It is looking deep into me that breaks my heart. I am exhaustion. I am desolation.
I would like to keep going back to what J reminded me of – that I will never be empty. My wife has offered me to depend on her for fortitude and I am blessed to know that she’s going to be there no matter what. But I also know that I cannot possibly rely on her the whole time. Before I can resurface, I need to pick all my pieces up.
And there is a long trail behind me. I have left bits and pieces of me over a long, harsh road. And I have been walking on this road for the last 25 years. Picking up what’s left of me would be a tough job.
And just like this abyss – it is endless.
lost
No I am not to talk about the critically-acclaimed TV series. I intend to talk about myself – which I know can be annoying to some people but I don’t really care. I have a feeling I am getting really good at yapping about me and my ups and downs. My life is not exactly critically-acclaimed but it's the only one I've got. So...TIMBER!
Have you ever experienced waking up in the morning and just feeling so lost – so lost that you don’t remember what happened the day before and you have no clear idea of what to do with your life when you opened your eyes?
I am in that limbo right now. Except that I do know what occurred the day before. And it was yesterday when I started feeling lost again.
Lost in a sense that I am blinded by both light and darkness. I know. Another heavy thing to comprehend and write about at 3:45 in the morning.
I don’t know. There was this weird feeling that worked its way up from my spine to my now-fluid brain. (I have told one person about this – my wife – thank you Mine).
I do not just feel exhausted. I am exhaustion. It’s like everywhere I look there is always something or someone I need to take care of, whilst neglecting myself, because my ultimate focus is that which is outside of who I am.
I am not saying that my family has become a burden. They never will be. I love them and have never known anything more fulfilling than being able to help them.
But sometimes, just sometimes, I get hit by the notion (and often the reality) that there’s really no one out there to watch my back. I know that I have my friends and family to count on. I know that they will be there to offer unconditional support and love.
But I have to face the truth – that at the end of the day I am on my own. I deal with my own troubles, I battle my own demons.
It is a painful and inevitable gift. It is a gift because I know it is meant to teach me something. That is the only thing that's keeping me sane.
I am so lost but my brain had to let this question out: How do I ever wash my face like the models do it in facial wash commercials without giving myself an unexpected bath?
How do they ever do it?
30 seconds
So yeah. I have been meaning to write for the last couple of days. But each time I try to, a huge chop of the writer’s block would fall on me and knock me unconscious…resulting to…voila…nothing at all.
I want to write. Big time. I just don’t know what to write about. Yet.
And then an idea dawned on me.
30 seconds.
What if our life is meant to be just a 30 second TV commercial. What would we like to put there. What would we do to make everyone understand what that 30-second commercial means to us. Would we even care if people would get the message or not? Are people’s views of what we are more important than the way we understand ourselves?
Okay. Sorry. Did not mean to flog you with all this nonsense. But it is something that we can always consider, right? What if…
Everything in our lives can be compressed to a 30-second commercial. When I was in college I got interested in existentialism. Fundamentally, it tells us that existence precedes essence. That we are able to create our meaning and essence, contrasting the idea that the gods are the ones deciding on our fates for us.
But I know sometimes we leave it to some weird force of nature to take us to the other side of the road. What are we actually expecting? We cannot possibly let a deity rule our lives regardless of how often we leave it up to a Mount Olympus resident.
I know am not really making a lot of sense right now. My brain is as good as a slurpee. Cold and in a liquid state.
So yeah, going back to existentialism. I know that I am not Nietzsche or Kierkegaard expert (I have read Nietzsche’s Thus Spake Zarathustra and I get his drift, but I think he did not get hugged a lot when he was a kid – okay, that’s beside the point) but I think that it’s true. A part of me still believes that some of the things in our lives are fated to occur, whatever it is that we do to avoid it. But at the end of it all – it is our life. And our life is what we make of it.
We have to learn how to not blame those around us (or, more preposterously – nature) for the expletive deleted things that happen to us. Everything is a matter of choice. I know that it is easier said than done, but there is also that gap between cause and effect, between action and reaction. That gap is where we make or break an outcome, where we spoil or perfect a moment.
And it’s all up to us.
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