Thanks to you, I know what I want and I can’t go back. I want to feel the way I did last night everyday. I want to be with someone who ten years from now makes my heart jump when I hear her key in the door. And that someone is you.
one final burning | part three
iii.
no, it does not begin
with any crackling sound
like scarred scripts burning.
this flesh by flesh gobbling
up is initially one painless
smouldering, flames gutting
everything standing in their sweep
within the ring
of their annealing.
and then, the smell!
like something acrid, acid,
carbonaceous, quite nothing else.
and slowly, this strange oozing
smell swells, redounds into
spitting, splitting noises,
pain cracking up
in many pieces
in different places
all at once! still -
its life cinders on
until this ultimate imploding,
one deafening blast to the climax rite
as loved ones writhe, ashen
in their own consumed shells,
or perhaps, relieved at last
over this burning's end.
the skull tautens, breaks,
bursts forth into nothing, nil,
its ghosts given up...pure annihilation!
the cold remains of its spirit
ash-kohl in its final irrevocable
bleak dissembling, now, here in
this one kind of final burning.
no, it does not begin
with any crackling sound
like scarred scripts burning.
this flesh by flesh gobbling
up is initially one painless
smouldering, flames gutting
everything standing in their sweep
within the ring
of their annealing.
and then, the smell!
like something acrid, acid,
carbonaceous, quite nothing else.
and slowly, this strange oozing
smell swells, redounds into
spitting, splitting noises,
pain cracking up
in many pieces
in different places
all at once! still -
its life cinders on
until this ultimate imploding,
one deafening blast to the climax rite
as loved ones writhe, ashen
in their own consumed shells,
or perhaps, relieved at last
over this burning's end.
the skull tautens, breaks,
bursts forth into nothing, nil,
its ghosts given up...pure annihilation!
the cold remains of its spirit
ash-kohl in its final irrevocable
bleak dissembling, now, here in
this one kind of final burning.
one final burning | part two
ii.
i know this one
could not possibly go
the way of all other
dying old houses.
firewalls isolate it,
so it sizzles on in private,
contained in all its seethings,
its intimate designs
within itself intensified
into poetry's richly ringing
intertexted lines limned
in cycles of firelit pain
and joy, sovereign and sole
within its fragilely flammable
formidable walls, my personal
incandescent world that had
then burnt on and on, not out
nor down, but forever quietly on.
and because forever,
some ghosts of it are fielded
all over the site of its ruins.
imagine fluffs of light,
ghoulish emanations of its
immortal remainders, picking up
their paths slowly, dawdling
over previous treasures, worldly
and invisible, and now, so soon
assuming their eerie sheen,
an afterglow of cinders burning
flameless in the tomb of night.
i know this one
could not possibly go
the way of all other
dying old houses.
firewalls isolate it,
so it sizzles on in private,
contained in all its seethings,
its intimate designs
within itself intensified
into poetry's richly ringing
intertexted lines limned
in cycles of firelit pain
and joy, sovereign and sole
within its fragilely flammable
formidable walls, my personal
incandescent world that had
then burnt on and on, not out
nor down, but forever quietly on.
and because forever,
some ghosts of it are fielded
all over the site of its ruins.
imagine fluffs of light,
ghoulish emanations of its
immortal remainders, picking up
their paths slowly, dawdling
over previous treasures, worldly
and invisible, and now, so soon
assuming their eerie sheen,
an afterglow of cinders burning
flameless in the tomb of night.
one final burning | part one
by ophelia a. dimalanta
i.
it is the wind's demolishing hand
come to soon fell this imperious
frame into its final death-swoon,
its seared selves dispersed
piece by piece; faint flappings
in the air, hurt birdwings
bleeding in post-mortem spasms,
strange noises in the dark
flung far off into the nightmare
of one's waking moments. and it is
these later residual resonances
that could stalk one's nights
since the exact contour and voice
of its going must only be imagined,
must be suffered by the scavenging,
senses, salvaging possible hanging-on
shards of her here and there,
even as the had been instantly
wrenched, erased as it were,
as if it never had been,
in this post-prandial passing.
one can only then recast, re-image
over and over, more pained each time,
mount on the soul's scorched lapidaries,
her lamellar incinerating,
the slant of her first crumbling,
the rumble and shade of her deepest
moan, and this one nightfall fitful
stirrings in the flaying wind.
i.
it is the wind's demolishing hand
come to soon fell this imperious
frame into its final death-swoon,
its seared selves dispersed
piece by piece; faint flappings
in the air, hurt birdwings
bleeding in post-mortem spasms,
strange noises in the dark
flung far off into the nightmare
of one's waking moments. and it is
these later residual resonances
that could stalk one's nights
since the exact contour and voice
of its going must only be imagined,
must be suffered by the scavenging,
senses, salvaging possible hanging-on
shards of her here and there,
even as the had been instantly
wrenched, erased as it were,
as if it never had been,
in this post-prandial passing.
one can only then recast, re-image
over and over, more pained each time,
mount on the soul's scorched lapidaries,
her lamellar incinerating,
the slant of her first crumbling,
the rumble and shade of her deepest
moan, and this one nightfall fitful
stirrings in the flaying wind.
embracing the quiet
In the mean time, I have ceased reading Manix Abrera’s Kikomachine Komix…since it’s almost June, I felt like taking the time to reflect (?!) on some things in my life right now and just try to unlearn and re-learn new things. I am going back to my passion and my love - writing and reading poetry. I am actually delighted that I now have time to embrace the quiet and just be on my own.
I finally started reading the poetry anthology ‘A Passionate Patience’ which was edited by my personal favorite – Ricardo M. De Ungria. I got the book about a month and a half ago when I was in Clark and it only cost me Php35.00. I know it’s crazy but I am happy I got a really nice material for such a small amount.
What struck me – of all the 10 poems included in the collection – was one that was penned by Ophelia A. Dimalanta.
She’s just phenomenal. I can’t bring myself to talk about how great she is as a poet because as of this time I don’t think there's any more word that would suffice.
I’ll be posting all three parts of her poem ‘one final burning’ in a bit.
you, i guess
It would break your heart to see her;
And mend what was broken in a moment;
And you would be twice what you were before.
-Clive Barker-
And mend what was broken in a moment;
And you would be twice what you were before.
-Clive Barker-
with red roses...
every night i empty my heart
but by morning it is full again
slow droplets of you seep
into the night’s soft caress
at dawn i overflow
with thoughts of us
an aching pleasure
that gives me no respite
love cannot be contained
the neat packaging of desire
splits asunder
spilling crimson through my days
long, languishing days
that are now bruised
tender with yearning
still searching for a fingerprint,
a scent, a breath
you left behind.
but by morning it is full again
slow droplets of you seep
into the night’s soft caress
at dawn i overflow
with thoughts of us
an aching pleasure
that gives me no respite
love cannot be contained
the neat packaging of desire
splits asunder
spilling crimson through my days
long, languishing days
that are now bruised
tender with yearning
still searching for a fingerprint,
a scent, a breath
you left behind.
melancholy
the first poem i have written in a month, i think...
shadows and shades
that obscure your
perpetual grin
descend and swallow
the grim and
dreamlesss journey
of your hand,
the deluded and
ill-fated trail
to your mouth,
the throbbing, shackled,
nostalgic smoke
that tell me
we once were.
shadows and shades
that obscure your
perpetual grin
descend and swallow
the grim and
dreamlesss journey
of your hand,
the deluded and
ill-fated trail
to your mouth,
the throbbing, shackled,
nostalgic smoke
that tell me
we once were.
i can't think straight
I saw a nice little indie film over the weekend. I can’t think straight is an unconventional romantic film – and I don’t mean to say it’s unconventional because the two female leads fell in love with each other but because they both were in heterosexual relationships before they met and everything changed when their paths crossed and their galaxies collided.
Tala was portrayed by Indo-Canadian actress, Lisa Ray (who by the way is sparkling in this movie – I fell in love the first moment she raised her eyebrow and pouted her lips). She’s the daughter of a wealthy Jordanian couple, and being in the upper echelons of a Middle Eastern society meant being rigid when it comes to following their traditions – which also meant hiding her sexuality from her conservative family.
Tala’s parents were preparing for their daughter’s marriage (she was engaged three times before) when she met Leyla (played by Sheetal Sheth, an American actress of Indian origin), a bubbly, blithe woman her best friend Ali is dating at the moment.
The chemistry between them was apparent the instant they shared a scene. Both were very smart women, but their character’s contrasts were what made the movie appealing. Leyla was free-spirited whilst Tala was sometimes forced to think within the limit set by her stiff upbringing.
Tala saw something unique in Leyla’s unassuming personality, who secretly wanted to be a writer. Friendship blossomed, and it was Tala’s encouragement that allowed Leyla to pursue her dream despite her parent’s disapproval. Tala’s outspoken challenges to Leyla’s beliefs paved way to a journey to self-awareness for Leyla. Before they know it, they were in an affair that’s just too good to miss.
But as the wedding day approaches, Tala’s sense of duty to her family and her country pushed her to leave Leyla, leaving the latter broken hearted but liberated – she finally breaks up with Ali and comes out to her mother and father. Before they parted, Tala told Leyla that 'I can't ruin lives.' Leyla, with certainty and gloom, answered: 'You will. Especially yours.'
The scene where Leyla ‘outed’ herself was actually both funny and touching. Her mother wanted for her to have a ‘normal’ life – that being married to a guy – so when she finally told her parents about her sexuality, her mother went ballistic, saying that ‘she’s up to her neck with her sins.’ Her father, however, provided such a comic relief in a very tense situation. He just came back from work and missed what Leyla just confessed to her mom. So her father blurted out: ‘What did I miss?,’ to which Leyla casually answered: ‘I am gay.’ Her father didn’t miss a note and yelped: ‘But I’ve only been gone two hours!’
Back in Jordan, Tala realized that she cannot live a lie forever and be married to a man when all she really wants is to be with Leyla. Tala calls everything off on the day of the wedding and her dad sent all the food to the camps (wehehe). She immediately flew back to London, only to find out that Leyla has come out to her parents but is currently dating another woman.
Tala tried to win Leyla back, but Leyla believes that ‘we make it their business everytime we choose our life, who we are with and why we are with them.’ Tala finally tells her mom and her dad – that she’s a lesbian and she’s in love with a beautiful, intelligent, talented, clumsy…woman.
The film tells us but one thing - that emotion is universal. That love is love no matter who we love. That if we are not upfront about who we are, we only risk hurting ourselves. That regardless of age, race, or gender, we will always be conflicted with issues, but there is always something to hope for, we will always find something worth saving and worth fighting for.
Tala was portrayed by Indo-Canadian actress, Lisa Ray (who by the way is sparkling in this movie – I fell in love the first moment she raised her eyebrow and pouted her lips). She’s the daughter of a wealthy Jordanian couple, and being in the upper echelons of a Middle Eastern society meant being rigid when it comes to following their traditions – which also meant hiding her sexuality from her conservative family.
Tala’s parents were preparing for their daughter’s marriage (she was engaged three times before) when she met Leyla (played by Sheetal Sheth, an American actress of Indian origin), a bubbly, blithe woman her best friend Ali is dating at the moment.
The chemistry between them was apparent the instant they shared a scene. Both were very smart women, but their character’s contrasts were what made the movie appealing. Leyla was free-spirited whilst Tala was sometimes forced to think within the limit set by her stiff upbringing.
Tala saw something unique in Leyla’s unassuming personality, who secretly wanted to be a writer. Friendship blossomed, and it was Tala’s encouragement that allowed Leyla to pursue her dream despite her parent’s disapproval. Tala’s outspoken challenges to Leyla’s beliefs paved way to a journey to self-awareness for Leyla. Before they know it, they were in an affair that’s just too good to miss.
But as the wedding day approaches, Tala’s sense of duty to her family and her country pushed her to leave Leyla, leaving the latter broken hearted but liberated – she finally breaks up with Ali and comes out to her mother and father. Before they parted, Tala told Leyla that 'I can't ruin lives.' Leyla, with certainty and gloom, answered: 'You will. Especially yours.'
The scene where Leyla ‘outed’ herself was actually both funny and touching. Her mother wanted for her to have a ‘normal’ life – that being married to a guy – so when she finally told her parents about her sexuality, her mother went ballistic, saying that ‘she’s up to her neck with her sins.’ Her father, however, provided such a comic relief in a very tense situation. He just came back from work and missed what Leyla just confessed to her mom. So her father blurted out: ‘What did I miss?,’ to which Leyla casually answered: ‘I am gay.’ Her father didn’t miss a note and yelped: ‘But I’ve only been gone two hours!’
Back in Jordan, Tala realized that she cannot live a lie forever and be married to a man when all she really wants is to be with Leyla. Tala calls everything off on the day of the wedding and her dad sent all the food to the camps (wehehe). She immediately flew back to London, only to find out that Leyla has come out to her parents but is currently dating another woman.
Tala tried to win Leyla back, but Leyla believes that ‘we make it their business everytime we choose our life, who we are with and why we are with them.’ Tala finally tells her mom and her dad – that she’s a lesbian and she’s in love with a beautiful, intelligent, talented, clumsy…woman.
The film tells us but one thing - that emotion is universal. That love is love no matter who we love. That if we are not upfront about who we are, we only risk hurting ourselves. That regardless of age, race, or gender, we will always be conflicted with issues, but there is always something to hope for, we will always find something worth saving and worth fighting for.
The movie ends with the lead characters taking on a journey for what they feel and believe in and stand for, after a long and winding road to self discovery.
variation on the word sleep
by margaret atwood
I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head
and walk with you through that lucent
wavering forest of bluegreen leaves
with its watery sun and three moons
towards the cave where you must descend,
towards your worst fear
I would like to give you the silver
branch, the small white flower, the one
word that will protect you
from the grief at the center
of your dream, from the grief
at the center I would like to follow
you up the long stairway
again and become
the boat that would row you back
carefully, a flame
in two cupped hands
to where your body lies
beside me, and as you enter
it as easily as breathing in
I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
and that necessary.
I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head
and walk with you through that lucent
wavering forest of bluegreen leaves
with its watery sun and three moons
towards the cave where you must descend,
towards your worst fear
I would like to give you the silver
branch, the small white flower, the one
word that will protect you
from the grief at the center
of your dream, from the grief
at the center I would like to follow
you up the long stairway
again and become
the boat that would row you back
carefully, a flame
in two cupped hands
to where your body lies
beside me, and as you enter
it as easily as breathing in
I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
and that necessary.
just thinking...
to be honest, i just feel so hollow right this moment. as i have mentioned earlier, i can't seem to write in paragraph form so i think you all will see bulleted lists for a looong time.
- i miss myself.
- i want to get another tattoo.
- i just want to moonlight.
- i never want to self-deprecate again.
- how many times do i have to be denied?
- for some reason i felt apathetic when i read the post secret stuff this week.
- i shut my eyes in order to see.
i hope there is an easy way to go back to things that were.
uber random
These days I don’t get to write in paragraph form. I have taken a path I never imagined I would – telling the world (world wide web, that is ehehe) of how I have been…in freakin bullet points. But I am assured that life is going to be more pathetic than it already is. Yet, despite the sheer indication of lethargy and melancholy, I would like to share some nice things I encountered yesterday:
I took Nosh to school (she’s taking up a certificate course in Culinary Arts at ISCAHM Katipunan). We had a quick bite at McDonald’s in Gateway and one of the service crews was just so…energetic (compared to my being enervated). He somehow managed to tidy up the tables, assist customers with their orders and greet the incoming customers all at the same time. Somehow he was omnipresent. He devised a number of ways to welcome the customers to the store, with his shrilling voice:
· Ma’am/Sir, umagang kay ganda! Salamat sa pagpasok sa McDo!
· Magandang umaga, Ma’am/Sir – bibili po ba kayo!? (parang sari-sari store lang!) J
· Welcome to McDonald’s! Ihanda nyo na po ang order nyo! (Kung hindi…)
· Ma’am/Sir, welcome to McDonald’s! Basa po ang sahig!
· Dito po ang pila…papunta po ng CR yan!
He was so ‘bouncy’ I wanted to come up to him and recruit him for Outbound. Ehehe. I wish he gets awarded as an employee of the month or even of the year for his obvious ‘punch’.
I passed by Shangri-La Plaza and saw a huge poster at Fully Booked – on May 23rd, they will be giving away comic books (even if you won’t purchase anything). You can get one by just going inside the store. To all bibliophiles - Fully Booked (all branches) will offer a 20% discount on comic books and graphic novels that same day. Woohoo!
Because I often lack sleep during workdays, sometime last week I thought I was to lose my voice and be a ‘silent movie’ again. So I went to the PLDT clinic in Boni and I was advised to take ASCOF Lagundi. The taste reminds me of my childhood…it reminds me of the Filipino delicacy ‘Laing,’ only that this one didn’t have coconut milk in it. But it did taste like some weird mishmash of every possible green leafy vegetable you could ever find in the folk song ‘Bahay Kubo.’ Nyahaha.
The Chat kids are playing ‘Halo’ by Beyoncé. She coos like a bird, and there’s nothing wrong with that...I think.
angels and demons
i saw the movie yesterday...and because i work at night, i was left with no choice but to watch the first screening in glorietta 4 - because i wanted to make sure i won't doze off in the middle of the film.
there are a number of things that made the movie appealing (to me, at least):
- tom hanks is robert langdon. 'nuff said.
- they used the same score (from the da vinci code).
- i think that the screenplay was carefully thought of to preserve the way the story (from the book) was told.
- it's ron howard who directed it, for God's sake.
- ayalet zurer looks like the baby of monica bellucci.
- the movie's nothing short of spectacular, and i would really have to say this - ewan mcgregor makes a really cute camerlengo.
- i have to admit it - the book angels and demons got me interested in ambigrams - and yes, i have a couple of them etched on my skin now (the first one being an ambigram of 'faith' and the other 'fire and a prayer')
sitting there for two and a half hours wasn't painstaking nor grueling. the movie was a freaking banquet!
in a nutshell
I don’t get to ‘blog’ as often as I would like to…so allow me to rant and ramble, for that is all that I can do in this bleak and decrepit existence.
1. I have so much to do at work, I don’t get to play Sudoku on my phone anymore…wahahah. Was totally kidding. Of course if we’re talking about work, I work like a dog. Boss, if you’d ever read this – peace!
2. I haven’t written a poem in 2 weeks I think. And I feel like my ‘capacity’ to make one will expire real soon. I am dead scared.
3. Last weekend, I saw two movies – one was ‘Perfume’ (starring Dustin Hoffman and Alan Rickman) – it’s a twisted tale about a murderer who pounds women of every age range and size on the head to knock them dead, lathers them with animal fat as his means to ‘preserve’ their scent. He made a perfume – combining all the scents of the 10 women he killed - which sent about 60% of the community on an involuntary debauchery when he was about to be hanged for his misdeeds. The other film I saw was ‘I could never be your woman’ which was too bland for my taste, I won’t waste time describing it. Too bad, Michelle Pfeiffer was there.
4. Am currently going gaga over KIKOMACHINE by Manix Abrera. Asteeeeg!!! Rakenrol!
5. Speaking of which – I have the first 4 installments and will soon get myself the most recent – called ‘Alab ng Puso.’
6. I got my mom 5 pots of orchids for Mothers Day and she ‘coerced’ me to give 1 to my aunt whom we really don’t talk to – whom my mom dislikes, to the point – all because all the other 4 flowers are a lot prettier…so yeah, she gave the ugly one away. Wahahaha.
7. I want to get Little Birds by Anais Nin. I already have Delta of Venus – which never fails to shock me everytime I read it. I am also hunting for a copy of ‘From Dusk till Dawn’ – I want to see Satanico Pandemonium.
8. I miss my friends – from college and high school. So that’s basically the Femme Fetales and Monette. I need to see you guys soon!
9. My hair has grown…longer…what else?! I miss my mohawk – and I might get a haircut this weekend – which means I would have to color my hair all over again, since the roots are now dark brown. I am pondering on sporting a lighter shade of brown this time…which means it’s also time for me to ponder on my finances. Huhuhu. I was about to say that beauty has a price, but let me rephrase myself. Good looks are innate, but it’s the upkeep that is expensive. Grrr.
10. I got sick yesterday. Couldn’t talk. Was a ‘silent movie.’ Huhu.
when?!
to the femme fetales...
the original and honorary members...you guys know who you are.
when are we going out of town?
p.s.: today's not exactly a good day. i have spasms.
my god!
the original and honorary members...you guys know who you are.
when are we going out of town?
p.s.: today's not exactly a good day. i have spasms.
my god!
frida
Yesterday, I spent a good few hours watching movies and reading books at home…this was before I fell into a lethargic 11 hour sleep. The 11 hour sleep does not normally happen unless I am off from work. I suppose it’s the weather. It’s super conducive to catatonia.
I saw Frida for the first time. It starred the effervescent Mexican actress Salma Hayek, who was chameleon-like in this role. Alfred Molina portrayed Diego Rivera, Frida’s mentor and husband for 25 years.
Because of this, Frida pursued a full time career in painting. She then approached Diego Rivera, to seek his advice about follow painting as a profession. They developed an intimate friendship and the two later married in 1929, much to the dismay of Frida’s mother.
Their marriage was tempestuous from the very onset. Diego was a womanizer and even had an affair with Frida’s younger sister, Cristina. From this, Frida drew her inspiration – she mostly had self-portraits which often included physical and psychological wounds. Frida would later on mention that she ‘never painted dreams,’ and that she ‘painted her own reality.’
I saw Frida for the first time. It starred the effervescent Mexican actress Salma Hayek, who was chameleon-like in this role. Alfred Molina portrayed Diego Rivera, Frida’s mentor and husband for 25 years.
Frida Kahlo (born July 6, 1907) is a surrealist Mexican painter who was catapulted to international fame several decades after her death. She was born to a German father (Guillermo Kahlo had Jewish and Hungarian ancestry) and Mexican mother (Matilde was primarily of indigenous and Spanish descent). At age 18, Frida met an accident that would significantly change her life. She was riding a bus when the vehicle collided with a trolley – from which Frida suffered serious injuries – she broke her collarbone and some of her ribs and the metal handrail pierced her right pelvis and punctured her abdomen and her uterus, rendering her unable to bear children. Though she regained her ability to walk, she was plagued with relapses of extreme pain throughout her life.
Because of this, Frida pursued a full time career in painting. She then approached Diego Rivera, to seek his advice about follow painting as a profession. They developed an intimate friendship and the two later married in 1929, much to the dismay of Frida’s mother.
Their marriage was tempestuous from the very onset. Diego was a womanizer and even had an affair with Frida’s younger sister, Cristina. From this, Frida drew her inspiration – she mostly had self-portraits which often included physical and psychological wounds. Frida would later on mention that she ‘never painted dreams,’ and that she ‘painted her own reality.’
Frida was one of the few artists during her time who were uncompromising of her vision. She was a political, artistic and sexual revolutionary. She was openly bisexual, which made her marriage to Diego even more tumultuous – as the latter knew of and tolerated her affairs with women but was often jealous of her relationships with other men.
The movie depicted the slow, disintegrating state of Frida’s body, but was also able to successfully represent how her tribulations elevated Frida’s sense of self and how this genuinely affected her artistry.
Salma Hayek was impeccable in her character as Frida (this earned her a Best Actress nod in the 2002 Academy Awards). Apparently, Salma also produced the film and was so passionate about this project that she worked on it for eight years. According to Salma, Frida Kahlo’s life and art first made an impact in her when she was 14 years old, and that what really inspired her is Frida’s courage to be unique. Frida was unapologetic for who she was, said Salma. The film was directed by Julie Taynor, and some of the most prominent actors of this era also had a cameo in the film which includes Antonio Banderas, Ashley Judd and Geoffrey Rush.
For the movie, Salma actually shaved her upper lip, which didn’t really work (so in short, she’s stuck with it forever), she also wore a shoe a few centimeters taller than the other one, attempting to portray Frida’s limping as accurately as possible.
The film radiates because it showed that tragedy can also be altered and transformed into color and luminosity. It certainly was a feast for both the eyes and the mind. According to Diego (in the movie): ‘Never has there been a woman who put such agonized poetry on canvas.’
I couldn’t agree more.
A few days before Frida died on July 13, 1954, this entry was found on her diary: ‘I hope the exit is joyful – and I hope never to return.’
epiphany
i don't feel like myself these past few days, and i am not saying that i have multiple personalities. i just feel a little depressed. i think it's because i am the kind who cannot write unless i am in agony. i usually induce pain so i can put my thoughts into writing.
this morning, before i took my lunch, ms excel 'gave' me a message...and this actually made me smile. i was saving my capacity planner and i saw this:
maybe the universe wants for me to understand that everything happens for a reason, or it simply wants me to know that 'someone' is always there to watch everything that i am doing, making sure i am alright.
yeah...like bill gates would be interested in my life. eheheh.
people's champ
it wasn't my intention to stay late in the office, but i had to because i needed to accomplish 3 more reports...and since i work in a contact center that handles a satellite tv account, i had the privelege of watching manny pacquiao's match with ricky hatton on a live telecast.
at 11:42 am, manila time, the Filipino prizefighter and candidate for time magazine's most influential people of 2009 - MANNY PACQUIAO - secured his throne and defeated english boxer ricky hatton in a duel that lasted only 2 rounds.
WE'RE PROUD OF YOU, MANNY!
at 11:42 am, manila time, the Filipino prizefighter and candidate for time magazine's most influential people of 2009 - MANNY PACQUIAO - secured his throne and defeated english boxer ricky hatton in a duel that lasted only 2 rounds.
WE'RE PROUD OF YOU, MANNY!
footnote: the thoughts in ricky hatton's head when he was knocked out:
first round: NASAAN AKO?!
second round: SINO AKO?!
ehehe.
chasing ghosts
I am writing this as the hour is about to close. The last minute before another full hour is unveiled.
Today feels like a ‘better’ day to let go. I said ‘better’ because there never would be a really great day to let go – especially if I am talking about letting you go. The last few years have been this undeniable heartbreak. Carrying your memories within me, I meant. It was inevitable, yet I don’t want to be telling myself that ‘I should have seen this coming.’
If I saw this coming and stopped from the very onset I would not have realized how much I can endure for you. Or how much I can endure because of you.
I am not blaming you for anything. I am not going to walk around as if I am the only one who has been hurt or as if I am the only person entitled to feel awkward or unruly about all that has been.
I just do not want to go on another day looking at the things we have committed or failed to commit magnified to a terrifying degree. And all this time it feels like I am the only person to be blamed for the mess. I never knew what you wanted and you never asked about what I wanted and everyone else had the painful impression that somehow, I was the one who left you hanging.
I no longer want to be construed as the culprit for this disaster. I only wanted to keep you. I only wanted to be the person you can go to when you feel lost. I only wanted to be there for you. But I haven’t been exactly able to do that – not because I am too caught up in my own chaos but because I wasn’t given any other option but to silence myself. And my heart.
I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to make you feel neglected or forsaken. However, there is no undoing – it was a mistake to not be upfront with you. It was a mistake simply to let things by and not clarify my side of the story. I wouldn’t ever think that my ‘truths’ won’t matter to you – but I suppose I allowed for things to be the way they are because I do not have the right to barge into your life anytime I would like to. Because I do not have the right to hurt you any more than I already have.
I wanted to try ‘mending’ my wrongs, however, I know that it will take more than just words to appease you. And actually, right this moment, I am unsure of what I did wrong to deserve your silence and reluctance.
In the end, I think I am the one chained to the pain of losing you. I know I have lost you a long time back but I was in denial – for as long as I can remember. I was somehow still hoping that we both can be adults about what has come and gone and implicitly admit that we both had our share of shortcomings.
I have run out of means to make myself believe that things will be better. That there still is the slightest glimmer of hope and light to hold on to.
I do not know how else to empty my heart for you and for this. I have allowed myself to fall into the trap of carrying the guilt or the burden – and that will end today. I will take whatever it is that you can offer, it there is any. Otherwise, I will eagerly accept the fate that will be left of the ruins.
Today feels like a ‘better’ day to let go. I said ‘better’ because there never would be a really great day to let go – especially if I am talking about letting you go. The last few years have been this undeniable heartbreak. Carrying your memories within me, I meant. It was inevitable, yet I don’t want to be telling myself that ‘I should have seen this coming.’
If I saw this coming and stopped from the very onset I would not have realized how much I can endure for you. Or how much I can endure because of you.
I am not blaming you for anything. I am not going to walk around as if I am the only one who has been hurt or as if I am the only person entitled to feel awkward or unruly about all that has been.
I just do not want to go on another day looking at the things we have committed or failed to commit magnified to a terrifying degree. And all this time it feels like I am the only person to be blamed for the mess. I never knew what you wanted and you never asked about what I wanted and everyone else had the painful impression that somehow, I was the one who left you hanging.
I no longer want to be construed as the culprit for this disaster. I only wanted to keep you. I only wanted to be the person you can go to when you feel lost. I only wanted to be there for you. But I haven’t been exactly able to do that – not because I am too caught up in my own chaos but because I wasn’t given any other option but to silence myself. And my heart.
I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to make you feel neglected or forsaken. However, there is no undoing – it was a mistake to not be upfront with you. It was a mistake simply to let things by and not clarify my side of the story. I wouldn’t ever think that my ‘truths’ won’t matter to you – but I suppose I allowed for things to be the way they are because I do not have the right to barge into your life anytime I would like to. Because I do not have the right to hurt you any more than I already have.
I wanted to try ‘mending’ my wrongs, however, I know that it will take more than just words to appease you. And actually, right this moment, I am unsure of what I did wrong to deserve your silence and reluctance.
In the end, I think I am the one chained to the pain of losing you. I know I have lost you a long time back but I was in denial – for as long as I can remember. I was somehow still hoping that we both can be adults about what has come and gone and implicitly admit that we both had our share of shortcomings.
I have run out of means to make myself believe that things will be better. That there still is the slightest glimmer of hope and light to hold on to.
I do not know how else to empty my heart for you and for this. I have allowed myself to fall into the trap of carrying the guilt or the burden – and that will end today. I will take whatever it is that you can offer, it there is any. Otherwise, I will eagerly accept the fate that will be left of the ruins.
litany
a litany of silence
and of breaths
a litany of broken
faiths and shattered
beliefs
a litany of battered
souls and blinded hands
a litany of unforgiving
ghosts and relentless
pasts
a litany of unending
torment and perpetual
curse
a litany of
you.
and of breaths
a litany of broken
faiths and shattered
beliefs
a litany of battered
souls and blinded hands
a litany of unforgiving
ghosts and relentless
pasts
a litany of unending
torment and perpetual
curse
a litany of
you.
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