the last run for 2010

ok. so i lied. THIS, instead, will be my last post for the year... that is until i decide, maybe, i may have more things to say before 2010 comes to a close.

kuya and i decided last night that we would run this morning. he and i registered for the Condura marathon this coming february, my second full marathon and his second half-marathon, and felt that it was ABOUT time we take our training seriously since 1 month of conditioning isn't really considered as appropriate. ANYWAY, as i had somehow anticipated, as my alarm started shrieking at around 445am, kuya was snoring like a hibernating bear, while i, i was staring at dark ceiling, wondering whether or not i would succumb again to my laziness or REALLY, REALLY get my (toned) butt off my bed and into my running shorts. after a few more minutes of procrastinating, i eventually opted for the later... kuya was still vocalizing in his sleep.

luneta was full or runners when i arrived, sun not yet rising. round and round they go, like planets around an extinguished sun. i wonder sometimes how these runners felt when the hostage crisis was happening, not too many months ago.

tying my laces, i began feeling the slow surge of adrenaline course through my body. my heart thudded in my chest, from fear? maybe. luneta always gets my blood flowing, muscle memory i guess from those countless revolutions i also did, like the runners i was now with, from those many training runs long ago. i still recall the pain, the panting, and all that sweat as i slowly increased my milage, not willing to give up just yet, accepting that a bit of discomfort was a price i should be willing to pay to achieve my goals. back then, it was just to run a full 5K without stopping. now... well, now is different, but in a way, still the same.

i began with 2 warmup laps around quirino grand stand, about 2ish kilometers. the holiday running hiatus made my ankles stiff and managing the first few meters were excruciatingly painful. i tried to focus on my form, and tried to avoid speeding up as i would often do when in pain. my feet struck the ground oddly as well. my foot would supinate overtly, which would cause my pinkey toe to roll in. i tried to relax my ankles a bit more but i could already sense my shin stiffening. if i kept this up, for sure, i would begin developing pre-tibial soreness, which i did not want. i increased my cadence, taking smaller steps. it relieved the soreness by a bit, hopefully, i thought, enough till my legs grew accustomed again to the pounding i was subjecting them too.

by the 2nd kilometer, my legs felt ok. i then headed toward the long stretch of roxas blvd., running towards CCP. i decided not to run on the asphalt this time, but instead ran on the brick-tiled baywalk. i wanted to try running of uneven terrain this time since i would like to train my feet when i decide to run this route barefoot, one of these days. the air was nippy but it did nothing from me still sweating buckets. by the time i reached CCP, i was drenched to my socks. i kept it up, slowing down to walk just so not to force myself too much. i try not to compete anymore, as i want to relearn the love i had for running again. i used to love running as a kid. i don't know what happened and why i lost it...

CCP complex now has a 7km route dedicated to runners and bikers. it courses thru the compound, all the way to the back of sofitel. i got myself near the old manila film center and marveled at the beauty of this slowly decaying building... my eyes then fell on this man who looks like he was touching himself while oogling at the joggers who passed him by. i took a second, closer look and it doesn't seem that the hand in his pocket was looking for a handkerchief. geeez... what a sleeze. i then noticed the odd number of cars parked at the film center. it was barely 6am and there was JUST too many cars, parked idly there, engines still on. my imagination began to run... like me. LOL. i best got myself out of there since it was too early to think unsavory thoughts. as i pulled away from the area, from the corner of my eye, i saw the man still "looking for his handkerchief".

the CCP runner's route ends at the ramp of CCP. runners and, well, cruisers, park themselves along the embankment, some resting, others, like vultures perusing on an stream of meat that pass them by. up you go on the steep ramp, then down again. i often use this as my U-Turn as i go back to luneta. i would run up the ramp, and use the momentum of the downhill run to slingshot me back to roxas, on my way back. i did it again this time. i however was no longer able to run back to luneta. i could no longer keep proper form during this leg of my run, my heel now striking the pavement. i decided to call it a good run day and walked back the rest of the distance. overall, i ran about 10km that morning.

by the time i got back to luneta, it was now bustling with activity. the oldies were engrossed in their rather lude aerobics regimen, conducted by a rather enthusiastic instructor who, i must say, looked hot with all his hip thrusting. i wonder if the lolos and lolas know what they're doing?

as i made my way back to my car, two things i noticed. one, a pair of bubble butt cheeks, owned by who i presume is a sprinter, since he was all alone on the opposite side of the street doing his drills. i spotted him, rather, his behind, from a MILE away. second, a pair of wings, tattooed onto the back of a very chiseled man. same distance of buttman. unlike buttman however, the tattoo caught my attention since they looked familiar to me. true enough, when the guy turned around in his shirtless glory, i knew him. a few friendly banters on how we were BOTH trying to make room in our bodies for the gluttony tonight, i hurriedly made my way to my car before i find myself drool in front of him.

fatigue, many pardons to my wholesome friends, disinhibits me. just ask my BF. LOL!!!

happy new year!!!!

2010

this will be my last post for this year.

i have toyed with the idea of maybe, this could also be the last post for me, for this blog, for this chapter in my life. time to maybe, turn a new leaf in the story of my life, and maybe, in the closing of that chapter, so too also my need to chronicle my thoughts.

but i will give myself more time to ponder on that thought. the season has been bad for me, both body and mind (but more BODY) so to make decisions during these rather troubling times would certainly be unwise. what would be wise is to try to summate this year, 2010, and in my retrospect, count my blessings. pardon if i don't mention them in chronological order or in accordance to level of importance, as i have said, the season has been bad for me, body and mind :)

this year was a year of many firsts, first full marathon, first road trip, first relationship. despite the fact that there really shouldn't be anything special about trying new things, for me, all these "first" also entailed that i step out of my comfort zone and face my fears, more importantly, the fear of failing.

this year was a year for friends. in the span of this year, i am glad to say that my kinship had grown deeper roots with a few people, some deeper than others in surprising ways. i would choose not to mention them, but you know who you are. thank you for letting me into your lives. it matters a lot that you would trust me, even if often, as i had been exposed of my own imperfections, i don't trust myself. i hope i would not disappoint you.

this year was also a year of weeding. yes, weeding, and pruning as well. Outednarnian put it well when he once said, he has all the friends he needs. i guess, i do too. no need to spread myself thinly anymore. time to nurture first the bonds i have now than to keep making new ones.

this year was a year of self-discovery. i learned that i am mean; that i am intimidating; that i am a control-freak; that i am weak; that i am severe; that i am impatient; that i am judgmental.

this year was a year of yearning, to be a better son, to be a better christian, to be a better worker, to be a better leader.

because i overspelt

i have to say, i REALLY am loving the holidays. no work, no pressure, no nothing! just pure, mindless, purposeless bliss. it's only been two days so far and i can see myself living like this, well, forever!!!!

well, not really...

either that, or i'm slowly turning insane. slowly feeling restless now, actually. not having anything to do, though, theoretically, it sounded like complete and utter joy, in reality, is causing me, strangely, stress. i tried doing things that i normally didnt have much time for before on normal occasions (like SERIOUSLY train for my run) but i guess i'm such a routinize nutjob that not having any schedule is making it a bit more difficult for me to actually do anything. i programed my phone to ring at 4am. it did. i turned it to snooze. it rang every 5 minutes thereafter, all the way till it FINALLY gave up on me. it's now 7am, and if kept to the original plan, i would probably be somewhere in luneta na, dripping in sweat, shivering maybe, and trying to find a good place to pee... but instead, i'm home, in my boxers, sitting, blogging about the utter FAILURE of my supposedly active morning. i am now contemplating on running on the treadmill, here at home. it's only a few steps away from where i am seated as of the moment, but even doing that is proving to be harder than expected.

day 2 and i have turned myself into a victim of my own inertia.

i seriously have to make mental note of how easy it is for me to be paralyzed by inactivity. funny, this after i made a pact with myself of becoming more active and trying to trim myself even more for 2011. so far, what i've done in relation to this goal had been all counterproductive. i haven't been working out, i bought THREE bags of chicharon LAMAN yesterday, and i have gluttonous meals lined up until the year-end. kuya once told me, the moment you make a decision, the universe will immediately challenge you on it.... SEE my steadfastness on mine.

on another topic totally unrelated to my failure to be active this holiday season....

can somebody EXPLAIN to me why people say and use the word STUFFS? yes, with an S in the end, pluralizing the already compound, thus already plural noun, STUFF. i swear, every time i hear or read this on either twitter or facebook or in the middle of a conversation, my slits-for-eyes widen to actually show eyeballs!!!

i once thought that it's because a lot of pinoys suffer from a lazy tongue, hence the often pronunciation and grammatical errors, but STUFFS? you know how hard it is to articulate the F and S sounds together? effort siya ha!!! and yet, people say it, WITH CONVICTION PA!!! stuffS, stuffS, oh my gad... STUFFS??? because STUFF isn't enough?

yun lang p0wh. jejejejejejeje

to you

it was in your unmistakable awkwardness that made you, initially, stand out for me; how in your tight, quiet, tensed movements, you tried to hide your ineptitude, but sorely, yet so beautifully failed. you took your glasses off to listen to people's conversation, as if to remove them was also to remove a veil that could frustrate you from a more honest experience. your eyes fixed on an unmarked point as you focused your energies to open you ears, your mind, maybe even your heart, i could not yet see, for i did not yet know you. despite this, the mystery of your person enchanted me, even if i still have difficulty admitting it. your anxious, discomforted stillness, this volatile flux you were in while in the company of strangers made you the sole object of my undivided attention.

you then turned to me.

you were slowly fracturing then. you bravely tried to pull yourself together, keep yourself together, but pieces kept falling off still. then i saw you. i felt you first for i too knew what it was like to also crumble. i then saw you for the first time, for who you are and i was captivated instantly. you are a puttering star, a young star struggling to glow. people could not behold you for your time was not yet, and your glory could not yet be manifested. but you still burn, slowly glowing from within, with white-hot embers radiating your life force in cosmic waves that only a few can detect. you were a beaming beacon of supreme invisible light. even in your silence, even in your awkwardness, even in your gentle fragility, your strength was palpable.


you became the silent lull before the storm, the charge before the clapping of thunder, the tension before final impact. you hold immense, unspeakable power, and no one knows of it except for those who have seen the rare displays of your great potential. that is why you are unique. that is why you are special.

i, i believe, am only but a spectator, in the greater, grander scheme of things, and i cannot help but feel more honored to bear witness to the celestial spectacle that you will soon become.

thank you. thank you so very much.

the lost joys

arika dum samech lifundra lipek, duruum spahet aushecken lamech.
sachrach hajen, limphoro hikseth-thomech maleoro shajem.
ishlamel lundrom hafetshi joh-eth, hish romel landruum akira lipek?
lando hiketh semporro scarem, ethrefan tomshoot morehii sen.

i wonder where it is, that my imaginations have gone, as my mind slowly fills of the cold hard truths that being an adult requires? i miss those days when people would fly, when i would will feathers out of my skin and beams of light would shoot out of my fingers. i miss those days when the wind would follow my beckoning, and the sun and the moon would heed to my every call. i miss those days when i could speak a thousand languages, of ancient words that only the great ancients could understand. i miss those days when my mind would connect with the cosmos, when it communes uninterrupted to the unlimited wisdom reposed in the universe.

fleeting are those days, the glorious days of my childhood, the willingness to believe in the unlimited possibilities of how everything unreal can be realized by just believing.

i would sometimes find myself stroking the air in front of me, feeling it like water and visualizing ripples caused by my disturbance. i would see eddy currents form, echos of my finger-strokes, slicing through its invisibility. it's a beautiful sight, like oil paisleys floating in water. i wished i could gather them, touch them, and then have other people also see, the beauty of my creating, the sight of seeing the unseen.

i would feel its weight in my hand as i clasp tightly on the hilt, its mirror blade dragging across the asphalt, as i walk home every morning from my jog. people would watch me closely as my right hand drops on my side, my wrist pointing down as i try to tuck it in, beyond anyone passing by for surely, it would be strange that they would stumble over an invisible sword. i feel the texture of the hide tightly wound on its grip, the bejeweled pommel and the star trapped within. he was a shooting star caught many eons ago, now dwelling inside my sword, powering its magic.

you loose something, the older you get. i think i am just realizing now that i may just have lost too much.

lahing pugita

my last day in singapore was bitter-sweet. sweet since i would soon be in the immediate vicinity (since it wouldn't be till a few days later till we see each other) again with my "irog". bitter, since i could only imagine the status of my desk once i get back to work. true enough, my desk was just as i expected it... a fire hazard. one spark is all it takes to turn my desk into a miniature scenario of the californian forest fire.

my inbox was to the point of overflowing... and i have THREE of them, considering! all stuffed with backlogged paperwork, none of which budged since no one else can proxy for me in the office. not a single one. and so begins my hike up to calvary. sheet after sheet, i computed, recomputed, sorted, encoded, and filed. little by little, addressing the voluminous heap that had taken over my work space, mocking me and the vacation i took not too many days ago. added to my backlogged work in the office, my client from my OTHER job (which is completely WHOLESOME i might add), knowing that i was already back, started her sweet barraging of little requests. follow-up on this, follow-up on that, i like this, can we change it to that, so on and so forth....i so wanted to have myself xeroxed just so i could have more of me to work. unfortunately, i was a glutton in singapore and could no longer fit myself into the scanner without seriously causing the machine much damage. so i trudged on. i endured. i just finished a FULL marathon and SURVIVED, dammit, surely THIS is nothing compared to that feat, or so i thought.

did i mention i also had to attend to errands from home? yes. i had to run errands for home as well, since, well, no one else can do it. dad cant do it. mom cant do it, kuya can't either.... so that leaves me... unless i can train our old shi-tzu to call a towing company and haul our car to the shop, fill up forms and follow-up on agents.

all of that started last tuesday... and as of today, tuesday, the week later, i am happy to say... all of that mess is finally FINISHED!!!!!

my inboxes are empty! all THREE of them! i can blog now! i can watch TV!!! i can sleep SOUNDLY. i can taste my food!!!! :) o happy happy joy joy....

yun lang. masaya lang talaga ako.

the Standard Chartered Marathon Singapore 2010

the anxiety never left me fully, not with the fatigue of incessant walking, not with the joys of meeting familiar faces, not with being overwhelmed with the energies of a bustling city. it just stayed there, steadfast in its place, weighing me down, cutting short all my desires of reprieve. the day is slowly coming, it reminds me again and again. the day is coming...

race day felt otherworldly. i would be doing this alone, i told myself. i would be alone, even if i had friends running with me, they cannot run this for me, nor do i think they will run and wait for me. i guess that's the reality of running and why i do run. even if i had gained so many new friends and have built bonds with them, it is, in a way, a lonely sport. be it may, it strengthens one's mind and teaches one focus and determination, for surely, by the nth kilometer when all your body screams to stop, it's only the stubbornness of your mind that pushes you to go on.

i did my morning race ritual and sat inside a tub full of warm water and watched my legs turn pink. the heat should do me good, i said. as i felt the water begin to run cold, i got up and began the slow change from sleepy tourist to readied runner. orchard road was beginning to show new activity at 230 that morning of december 5, not even finished yet with the excesses of the night prior. singapore was stirring. i donned my tights, my singlet. i made sure my bib was secure, and that my phone was well locked inside my armband. i bid my sleeping kuya farewell and went down to finally, finally rid myself of this anxiety that had been plaguing me for the past 7 months.

i ran a few meters to warm up. i crisscrossed around people. ran up and down the sidewalk as music blared and echoed from the tall buildings that flanked orchard road. the full marathon of the 2010 standard chartered marathon singapore was about to begin. my friends ian and narnian eventually showed up, psyched and pump as i was, but i think i was more. ian was showing how he planned to time himself and narnian, who was running this, his second marathon, seemed to be handling this rather coolly. we all eventually made our way to our designated pens, the sub 5 hour runners, and waited for the flag off. the intensity was mounting, almost to a frenzy as the energies of 13,000 eager runners slowly condensed toward that final moment... the sounding of the blowhorn, heralding the start of the race. we all slowly trudged forward to the starting mat to activate our timing chips, then began what would be the longest run of my life.

ian and narnian took off ahead, still within sight of me, but too far for me to catch. i resisted to run after them since 42 kilometers is still a long way to go and i cannot risk exhausting myself in "playing" tag. i will keep to my level. i will not compete for i am my own competition, i told myself. my mantra calmed me and even at barely a kilometer, i knew i would finish this race. keep your shoulders low, keep your bouncing to a minimum, keep your strides tight and your cadence high, my inner trainer was talking to me every step of the way. drink for gastric emptying, take electrolytes to prevent cramping. respect the distance, enjoy the run. even in the dark, i could sense myself already smiling.

i eventually lost sight of my friends and found myself lost instead among kindered souls. they were runners like me, some fast, some slow, all running for different reasons, all driven by their personal goals. i felt comforted despite being in the company of strangers. i was alone but not really alone. i was feeding from their presence as well. running with them almost felt like talking to them, only the language was in the ways of effort, endurance, and determination. i began to hit the zones, that focus you get when your body begins to conserve its energies. the pain began to set it. the fatigue began to set in, and the voice in my head started to say that i stop. a few more, until the water station, i bargained. stop, it said again. stop, stop, stop... then my hip gave in.

my shoulders were sore, my hip was jabbing, and my abs began to spasm. i knew these pains too well. my last 32km run was a good lesson on poor preparation and what will happen if you don't listen to you body. i was reminded of this again now. so i stopped, and i walked, and i drank, and i rested, and began running again as i felt fit... just as i should do. i kept this routine, run-walk-stretch/rest-run for a good chunk of the race, trying my best to push just enough that i could regain a good running pace but not too much that my hip would hurt, as by now, the pain was beginning to build. soon, i found myself passing the 20km marker, the pulikat marker, as i call it since my legs would often cramp after this distance. surprisingly however, no such incident happened, much to my relief.

i eventually caught up with narnian around this time as well. he had slowed down markedly due to fatigue which eventually led to both of his hamstrings seizing. i stayed with him for a while, up until he could run-walk, and jogged beside him for a few meters, just till i was sure he will be ok. he had urged me to leave him and have me run to finish in good time, but only to be met by my surprising answer "it's only a race." i suddenly recalled barefoot runner, michael sandler, and how he said to listen to your body, and live to race another day. i eventually began running after about a kilometer with narnian, we were already at kilometer 30, and with 12 more to go, i could practically see the finish already. i bid narnian goodbye and began to jog faster. i could feel my toes being macerated in my shoes already, rubbing against my socks, skin soaked soft in my sweat. i could tell they were blistered and wounded already, but this much i already expected. there was nothing more i could do, run or walk, it was both painful, so might as well run and get things over with, and over with fast.

the sun was beginning to scorch as my sweat evaporated quickly. i tried to run in the shade but that did little help. i just hoped that the water station was near. thankfully so, it was and was under lots of trees. 5 more kilometers to go, and i could already hear the finishline and the cheering of hundreds of people. i'm almost there. i didn't know what my time was, but i really didnt care. i didnt care since i started running, i wouldnt care either after. i just wanted to finish. running over esplanade bridge was the final stretch, and i knew once i make the turn, i would see where it will all end.

that final turn was it, the final turn. i was there, at the finish, and just like that, my body allowed me to feel nothing and i made a dash for it. i crossed the finish at 4 hours and 38 mins. 4 hours of running, of testing my limits, of listening to my body, of respecting the value of effort, of remembering why i did this, of learning that running should be fun.

the organizers were right, this race was indeed unlike any other.

to hannibal

it was in your lording demeanor
the studied smile, provoking interrogation
the sweet, gentle, alluring seduction of
your prodding about, feelers strumming,
you, intricately stringing this menagerie,
this beautiful convolution of silence and screams
hewn from my childhood nightmares and
wild heroic dreams. i did not see it coming.
i could never have prepared, for the fall.
as you drew me in deep into enchantment,
intoxicating me with your sedating words,
disarming me of my worldly defenses as
you slowly reached in and ate my brain.

a different kind of run

i'm still smiling from it all, how it was to wake up and have you at first sight. you looked so peaceful, so quiet, so still. it took a bit of my nervousness away. my anxiety left me for a moment there as i imbibed some of your calm. i got ready for my race, and so did you. despite how embarrassing it was that i felt i was inconveniencing you to tag along with my rituals before a run, and how early i had to start doing it (think 1am), you did not complain, you even insisted of coming along, and it made me feel so unworthy to have someone like you. but again, like all things negative that would surge up in me, the feeling did not remain, how could it when all feelings i get from you are all like this, lovely, pleasant, heart-warming. i did not say it then, maybe still feeling a bit shy to admit it, but i relished at the fact that i was sharing something new with you. i have ran many a race before, but none that has tested my endurance like this (and my-GAS, did it test me), and none where i had you. it tickled me... but i had to focus... it was kinda hard to do it though, i have say :)

the pre-race preparations did not prepare me for what came after, as i crossed the finish line, my legs cramping from pain, my torso stiff from spasms, my breathing impeded by the lactic acid drowning my muscles, as i collapsed by the side walk, all i could think about was looking for you... then i saw you, walking slowly towards me, and again, like hours before, all negative emotions left me. you were like anti-kyptonite (though superman, i will never be). you did not mind sitting next to me, your shirt, your pants, soaking in my sweat. you lifted my up, you asked me to lean on you as you walked me to my car. you were literally my staff, well, considering how HUGE i looked against you small frame, you did not complain. i tried to be strong but my body failed me. i was overcome by nausea, and i felt how you tried to lift me up. a smile crawled up my face. my heart was beaming with thankfulness.

the race was how i expected things to be, and then some. i knew i was not going to finish strong. i did not train for it, i was not prepared for it. but in my weakness, i guess, i was made to learn to draw strength from other people. marlon and angelo met me with beaming faces.... then there was you, who's mere presence flushed all my disappointment and pain away.

all races, i think, should finish like this. the medal they hung around my neck was nothing compared to the wreath that was your welcomed embrace. i love you very much.

coffee with cousin panda vurr

maybe it's because of my age, maybe it's because of me knowing how it was to be an ass as well, that now, i can see through people's bullshit, especially when they try to cleverly mask it in flowery words and worse, "good intentions".

i have i have to admit, it took me a long time to develop this sense, how to sniff out genuine remorse, regret and concern from that of mere gestures of drama and empty-reasonings, and i will not deny that part of my keeness is due to the fact that i, too, was once a person who hid in false "good intentions". letting people go softy, was how i termed it, that despite the obvious wreckage of how the situation is unfolding, i tried in my earnest efforts to minimize the damage of the blow. in my head, i was doing good. in my head, i was offering the hurt party a consolation. the over-used "it's not you, it's really me" of course is no longer applicable, so instead, i shower the other party with encouraging words, trying to best pick up the crumbling pieces as they disintegrate before me. how this is different from genuine consoling, well, it's all in the root of the action. despite the seeming selfless, grandiose expressions of being the bigger man, i learned that in the core of my actions was my last ditch efforts at saving face. it was, in its essence, a selfish rather than a selfless move, and i hated myself for it.

i already saw it coming, like how your body seizes before a collision, bracing yourself for the hard blow. the words were the same. the feelings were the same. the circumstances were all too convenient. then i heard the words, and immediately i heard a voice in my head say "you lie." my friend continued on with his tale, and i continued on to intently listen, trying my best to hide my reactions. his tale was a sad one, a sorry one to say the least, made more regretful for he indeed is such a beautiful soul, only to keep finding himself in rather despicable company. his teary eyes exposed his hurt, even if he bravely tried to conceal them, the hurt of being left behind, the hurt of being rejected, the hurt of being betrayed. he was betrayed my his own longings. he was betrayed by people whom he thought had his well being in heart.

i guess, this is common among people who see themselves with little value. how i understand this very well. how i once craved for validation from others, how it was a horror to fail, how i had to be great, exemplary, spectacular in order to be accepted as normal and in the same leagues as other well-accepted, great people... who, now that i think about it, are really not all that great after all. i made myself easy prey, not really to predators, that would have been a better pill to swallow, but to equally fractured people who find my handicapped self-image complimentary to their own insecurities. i allowed myself to become a footstool. what was even more sorry was that i enjoyed it. i relished that i was being used. it gave me purpose. it made me, though indirectly feel, that i mattered, that i existed, and once these parasitical parties have had their way with me and cast me by the way side, leaving me with their beautiful goodbyes, i find myself depleted, dry, left to fend for myself when the vultures come to hover over my dying soul.

so i stopped being like that. so i stopped feeling sorry for myself all the time, for constantly thinking i will never be good enough. so i began telling myself that i am, not even great, but that I AM NORMAL. I AM OK. I AM EVEN FAR FROM OK, I AM FINE. i am no different from anyone else. i have flaws, i make mistakes, i am imperfect, but so is everyone else, and that is perfectly ok. i may not be the most beautiful, the richest, the most eloquent, the most successful, the smartest, but that's ok. i do my best, and as long as i act within the measure i was given, then i am maximizing my potential.


i convinced myself of this, and slowly, through a lot of stumbling and a lot of struggle, i think i am much better now. my insecurities no longer fuel my need for people to accept me. i learned to celebrate my flaws and celebrate other people's flaws as well. i am thankful of my strengths and hope to exercise them more, to better myself and others. i strive to be good, because that is really the only way. i also try to distance myself from the usual vampires as it will be too easy to fall back still to my old ways. everyday is an exercise, i guess, to be able to live a happy, content life. i am by far, nowhere near perfection in my practice, but even that is fine.

morning vomit

poetry, it seems, comes easy
when authors have fallen in love.
words become utterly cheesy-
mushy, like light feathers of doves.
it can, alas, be sickening,
like vomit building up inside;
like the splat of all things nasty,
when the hard ground and you collide.
this has to stop, and end soon, please!
for authors can't function like this.
we need drama, pain, agony,
not drown in unspeakable bliss.
o, the torture it leaves us all
to be bound by such strong feelings:
of unicorns and honey-bears;
of pink, fluffy imaginings.
gone are the days of great grey gloom,
of thunderclouds and heavy skies.
all things now are in sanguine hues,
for my heart now in your hand lies.

MY GAD.... ANG CHEESY!!!!!!!

i love you, kapampangan quezo! :)

the fear

there's a certain type of fear that grows within the heart of man, once transcendental bliss is achieved. ironically, it appears when it seems all obstacles are surmountable and all barriers can be broken. in a way, i believe, it is good to fear even when you feel that there is none. it grounds you, it anchors you to some semblance of truth, rather than have you just simply float away.

wisdom, a proverb said, comes from fear, and in my case, my wisdom reminds me to tread the road of my days with care. hastiness can only lead to looseness, and looseness to many mistakes... some, i would never want to commit, especially when it would harm you, my beloved.

but here lies the challenge for me, though once upon a time, i feared for many things, for many possible mistakes, for many iniquities that may be, for many offenses that could come, around you however, i find that i fear none, and it worries me sometimes. i worry, maybe, because i could have lost all grip of reality now, too blinded with the sheer emotions of my affection for you. i worry, maybe because, in my over-thinking, i could be not mindful of my actions, not sensitive to your needs, not aware of your sentiments, your thoughts, your words, your actions, and that in my drunkeness and poor judgment, that i fall in love with the selfish euphoria of being in love instead, rather than the divine experience of simply loving you... which i do.

the fear comes from my failure to surrender. it stems from my need to control my environment, my destiny. i fear nothing when i am around you, and even if i tried to, the fear would not stay, because the day you came into my life, i unknowingly relinquished all control of my fate. i had been hoodwinked. i had been deceived by my Master. i had been distracted from my obsessive hold, and in the loosening of my strong grip on the reins of my life, He graciously slipped you in to my hands instead.

i fear none, because you were given to me. i fear none because my faith empowers me to believe that you were given to me, because i can take good care of you. i fear none because you make me fear none, because that is how strong you make me. you are my courage and my faith to my God, personified.

the simple answer

i am finding it starting to frustrate me, now on my nth try, how i am finding it utterly difficult to construct good, not even aiming for spectacular, sentences to describe how i feel. it is frustrating since, not just too long ago, it was so easy to put into words how horrible i would feel, or how agitating my days were, or how sad it was to be me. now that i am practically overwhelmed in unspeakable joy, words, after all these years that they have been faithful to me, suddenly, fail me.

i am frustrated because i cannot tell you how thankful i am, that i cannot embrace you with the tenderness that i feel in my writing, the passion, the compassion, the love, that effortlessly wells up within me at every thought of you. i am frustrated because it was through my words that i was able to once express myself, and yet now, could find none that could even come close to describe what i feel for you. i would love to declare, to profess, to confess, to shout, but alas, the muses refuse to budge, and i am left speechless, constipated, rendered impotent in my extreme efforts to write about my intense feelings for you...

and then, one morning, in my stubborn efforts to attempt at another post, something short of wonderful dawned on me, and it made me not try so hard anymore. it said, love is gentle, love is simple, and i found myself agreeing wholeheartedly. i have, i guess been so used to the whole theatrical production of presenting my emotions, poofing it up to exponential levels, just to validated my inflated and inflamed ego, but now that i have been served by something so pure, my soul just could not accept how beautiful something so simple could be... because that is what you are. you are simple. you are beautiful, just like how love was created to be. so here i am, professing again, but this time, with no effort whatsoever. i profess that i love you, and that i love you with all that word entails. it carries all my good intentions. it bears all that is good within me. it tells you that i will love you with the love you deserve, with the love that my God gives me. it says that i would cherish you and your person, that i would celebrate you in your flaws and in your strengths, for my love does not discriminate. i will love you with the simplest of desires, that i will not expect much, anticipate much, for i have all that i need for it is already sustained by your love for me.

loving you, my beloved, i realized, is easy, and it was why i knew it was you. it was only you. loving you is as effortless as breathing, even if it means gasping for air as i willingly drown in you.

all over again

no stars aligned, nor the universe conspired, only a stillness happened, a wonderful quiet, sustained by two people lost in each others gaze. and while we lingered in that tender, blissful moment, when in our utterances we both failed, when meaning could find no words, i, if you would permit me to be selfish once more, found myself falling again in love with you, for how could i not, when loving you all over again, it seems, was all i could do.

the final rebellion

it was the quiet before the storm, the anxious stillness before the war. the horizon bore the weight of a palpable charge, the surge brought about by the fury and rampage of ten thousand men. galloping hooves echoed in the distance, reverberating in a moving wall of dust, mashed with the rolling thunder of chariot wheels riding across the arid desert land. the skies glowed in an eerie crimson, a premonition, a frightful banner held up by posts of feeble sunlight, the great sun cowering behind lofty clouds, too fearful too of beholding the impending slaughter. the air was thick, the winds fell flat, God's breath held in in anticipation. they finally come, and they arrived in their forceful, terrible might.

the earth trembled under their heavy feet. she groaned in agony, screaming under their relentless badgering. the howling voices of thousands over thousands tore across the barren land, the clamoring of wild men for blood and death, sweeping over the wide expanse like a breeding, devouring plague. their hunger for violence was insatiable, fuel by a lust a millennium in the making. they came with their horses, their chariots, wielding their unsheathe weapons of destruction. they were clad in their armor of metal and hide, sporting helmets, dented and blood-stained. they cried to threat and charged with drunken pride, taunting, advancing, drawing closer and closer to their prize.

he stood there, alone, upon his high place, his demeanor stoic, his composure unfazed. he listened quietly to the earth's voices shouting out for vengeance, imploring justice, invoking his righteousness. the souls of millions cried out from their place, where their innocent blood soaked the ground, where the fertile soil covered their broken bodies, these lives this evil had destroyed, the generations this evil had denied. he took a step down from his station and firmly set his feet on a rock. he then set his sights down to the valley, now teeming with men, their weapons glistening in the sunbeam, the rumble of their legion roaring up the walls of the rocky cauldron. they had come for him. they want him. they will stop at nothing until he has been put down. this was their final rebellion.

the wind whispered quietly in his ear, a light breeze kissed him in the cheek. he robed himself in golden sunlight, and took his staff in his hand. the army below went on a frenzy for here, here he comes now, like meat about to be thrown into a den of ravenous beasts. he took a long breath in and closed his eyes, hand firmly on his staff. he struck the ground and gave a commanding shout, his voice bellowed, traveling to the edges of the world. the army's resounding cries fell mute as their former vigor fled from them. for once, the seed of panic began to grow among them. he struck his staff again onto the ground and cried, his voice like the pounding of a drum. war was being waged by a lone man onto a legion of thousands and yet none now would take a step towards him. he struck the ground a third time and shouted, his voice swept over the valley floor like a crashing wave rushing out. the army now found itself slowly sinking it in mortal fear.

a new, different kind of rumbling could now be heard from the distance, a disturbance cutting though the nervous quiet from the valley below. men looked at men, throwing tense glances upon each other. who is this person? what is happening? the rumbling grew stronger, the sound of a thrashing, maddened hoard hearkening the call of their one master. the sound came from all directions, its force pushing against the thick air pushing against the rocky terrain pushing against, now, deathly calm men.

he stood there upon his high place, his staff at hand, his robe washed in light of the sun. he waited. it won't be long now. the valley will be sealed. the terror will be contained. this will all end soon and the earth will finally be appeased. this is their final rebellion.

the greater gift

it was a lovely peace, a holy silence, though lost in a deluge of strong water, i was lifted up with the gladness of my heart. my lips trembled in silence, words daring not to utter, but a smile, a lone smile was enough to declare my fate. i have been found, and i did also find! i celebrated my Lord's greatness and His multifarious wisdom for how could it not be so, and how could my joy be contained? surrendering never felt so timely, presenting my gift and receiving the greater gift, the revelation of my soul's delight.

i have been astonished.

reasons

i was waiting for it, water washing down from my nape, watching it create streams flowing down, following the contours of my body, cascading down towards the cold tiled floor. i followed my breathing, feeling the rise and fall of my shivering chest, listening as i sucked in volumes, only to relinquish them after a few moments hold. the thrashing sound of the water was deafening against the silence in my head. i was waiting for it, bracing myself for it, for that overwhelming emotion to engulf me again like it would always do, drowning me again in a disorientating whirlpool of fear and doubt and regret.. but there came none. there was none. there was only i, the water, the quiet calm, the sweet stream against my nape, and a growing gladness in my heart that came from a boy who was turning towards his God to praise Him.

i realized that God is truly a God of purpose. i know He was, but today, i realized He is, and i cannot help it but be thankful that i could appreciate all that He has done. words could not express. blogging about it cannot do it justice. my Lord is a patient farmer and i can only be blessed to be under His care.

icarus

icarus 10/23/10

i was always amazed how classical painters were so detail-oriented as to capture even their subject's inhalation, how the belly would collapse and the muscles slacken as the ribs expanded and flared, gearing for that final plea for help. i have still a long way to go, more so learn to commit to just one solid line, but i guess, line on top of line, considering how many people view my work, i will leave it up to you to decide which variation of my subject's silhouette you will deem to be most appropriate.

this icarus is for you who planted the seed in my brain.

fallen

fallen 10/21/10

salome

salome. 10/10

skipping breakfast

i kinda skipped my morning quiet time today since i woke up a bit late. i felt a bit guilty that i once again pushed spiritual food aside in exchange for more worldly duties like work. God must be shaking his head at me again. ironic that this mornings message talked about how troubles come when we lack spiritual enjoyment, and here i was shoving it aside since i was running late, not even the least mindful of what my actions would cause me later on.

that little bit that i got this morning stayed with me though, during my drive to work. i was wondering how the troubles and problems in my life could have been caused by my lack of spiritual enjoyment. i then thought that, maybe, the problems had always been then, it was just that since my spiritual enjoyment got stunted, they seem to be more overwhelming. i think this is true, how these trials i go through seem to be trivial, despite their gravity, when i am enjoying my time with God. though God may not take them away (which happens), it doesn't matter since i am empowered to overcome.

i have to wake up earlier then, tomorrow. 730am wont do anymore :)

ugly texts

i find i funny sometimes when i feel sad that i have nothing to blog. i never really was the type who likes to document every single thing that happens to my life, despite the many attempts before to start a journal. i didnt really understand, now that i think about it, why i even entertained the thought before. maybe because everyone seemed to have one back then, maybe i felt the value to being able to have proof that i lived, i thought and that i had opinions. i do, however, know that one of the reasons why i never followed through with keeping journals was because i hated how my penmanship looked. i hated how my cursive looked, more so my prints. they look so uneven and, well, poorly written. despite my mother admonishing me to keep practicing, which i did, and despite the VOLUMES of pages that i had already written, especially when i went to med school and had to transcribe lecture after lecture, my penmanship never improved. which now leads me to think, maybe why i continued on blogging is because i type instead of write. though im not really that thrilled with the limited amounts of fonts available with the templates, it sure beats seeing the chicken-scratching text that would be if i were to write my posts using a pen.

delirious babble

it's an old new feeling, one that is very much still in the forming stages. the boundaries are still blurred, but the body, slowly substantiating. it elicits old reactions, of me thinking, wondering, trying to be cautious as i walk around this slowly developing entity, studying it with my most discerning eyes, trying my best to weigh whether or not i should let this continue or whether it would be better to simply just destroy it right now, despite its quasi-form.

here are the old reins again. slackened for now. i wonder would it be time to tie myself to them again, hold me down as i brace myself for another raging torrent, allow myself again this head spinning experience, or do i keep them away forever as i decide, enough is enough for games like this should never be played again. self doubt however would ask me, who says this is a game? then i find myself back again, walking in circles around this body, this emotion, this delusion, this illusion, of my possibly feeling again, of me possibly fooling myself that i am capable of doing it.

maybe, all of this is just the fever talking.

polar attraction

do opposites really attract, and when they do, do they stay attached, like how atoms and magnets do?

i found myself questioning this adage this morning while on my walk to my gym. i was toying with the idea from the remnants of a conversation i had with a friend, about how his relationship began because of how different he was with his current beau. it got me thinking since, if i would describe all the people i found myself attracted to, they were essentially all similar to me. like attracting like, and the only thing that could pass as "opposite" would probably be physical attributes such as skin tone, height, race, etc. which then leads me to think some more, does that adage pertain to attraction only in the physical, superficial sense? or would it work with more intrinsic aspects such as personality, character and values?

i sometimes find myself frustrated, since, there would be moments when i would wish i could just let myself be content with the physicality of attraction. good looks, great smell, fabulous skin, etc. how i would sometimes wish mere appeal and that hotness factor would be enough, since, it seems that others can be ok with it and do look happy in their coupled bliss. but as i begin to walk that direction and attempt to educate myself in finding satisfaction with feasts for the eyes, my emotions would kick in, and it kicks hard. the disconnect with whoever it is that i am lusting over is more than enough to pull me away. it's a nauseating feeling, almost the same as what an acrophobe would feel when made to stand on the edge of a ledge. it weighs in my gut like a ton of bricks, and i become incapacitated. the beauty that i now behold gets glazed over, the supposedly bliss i am to allow myself, overwhelmed with disgust, a disgust toward myself, towards what i was giving up, towards what i am making myself become. i then find myself drawing away, excusing myself from the sorry situation i put myself under, made more shameful by dragging an innocent along.

yesterday, a pleasant acquaintance messaged me on twitter. our private conversation lasted pretty long, ending in that ever faithful question, "why am i still single?" sigh.

because i keep falling for the wrong people?

because the right person hasn't come along yet?

because God is testing my stamina and waiting for me to give up?

because, well... i really don't know.

the dream

the voice of the narrator faded into the background. i came to a few minutes later, the show i was watching on Discovery, over. i looked at the time, 11pm. i got myself a fresh shirt, turned the TV off then the lights.

i came to again, kuya was home and pacing about in the room, packing for his trip to cebu the following morning. i got up, looked at him in my stupor, then repositioned myself back on the indentation i had made on my mattress.

kuya turned on the lights. i woke up again. i could hear that he turned on the TV as well. he was watching Urban Zone. i could recognize Daphne Osena's voice but could not make of anything she was saying. i turned in my bed and buried my face into my pillow... then i began to dream, curiously, about watching Urban Zone. Daphne was doing her usual tours of spectacular homes and i was there, watching. it was a vivid dream, all up to the point wherein my reality popped in and i could no longer discern which was the dream, and which was real. i found myself face up again on my bed. kuya was still pacing about in the room, TV was still on.

i was about to walk out of the room this time, i think kuya was with me. as i opened the door to go outside into the corridor, kuya and i were immediately thrown back, swept off our feet and pinned against the ceiling. the force that was keeping us up grew stronger and heavier. i could not see it nor could feel whether we were being pushed onto or pulled into the ceiling. whatever it was, it felt undeniably evil, like of the worst kind. i could not hear it but there was a sinister laughter, faint but palpable. there was a growing panic in me. i could not sense my kuya beside me anymore. i was on my own, on the ceiling, held captive by a force i could not see.

part of me knew i was dreaming since i still could see myself on my bed. from the ceiling i could feel the bed, lying in the bed, my linens against my skin. i could see the flashing of the lights from the TV, like strobes in a dark room. i could hear Daphne's voice. i then could not sense my bed anymore as the feeling of floating and being pinned to the ceiling overwhelmed me. i felt the need to fight. almost like a reflex, i began to pray. i called onto the only name i knew that was powerful enough, and called it with all the conviction i could, wielding such a powerful name. opening my mouth was hard and at first, it came out as a whisper despite how i was screaming in my head. "LORD JESUS" i called. the laughter grew loud for a moment. "LORD JESUS" i called again, the laughter stopped, and the grip weakened a bit. "LORD JESUS" i called louder. my arms could now move. "LORD JESUS" i was shouting now, courage and rage surging in me. i was slowly descending to my bed. "LORD JESUS" my arms and my feet were now flaying at whatever it was that was handling me. "LORD JE-" i jolted myself awake. my kuya asked what was happening.

i turned to face the ceiling, the nightmare felt so real. everything about it felt so real. the laughter, that voice felt so real. the relinquishing of the hold and me dropping into my bed felt so real.

feeling ko mag-ghost hunt mamaya sa bahay.

humanda kayong mga manignong-kayo...

my reaction

i should not have given heed to the temptation to pry, but such is a defect of mine, something that i really should continue to work on, something that other's should work on as well.

a dried scab should always be left alone, since picking on it never leads to anything good. so now, i ponder on this. should i react, despite the growing torrent of vile emotion i have within me to do so, despite how irrational, i know, it is? or should i do what i always do and process and edit and reconstruct and deny and repress and ignore and forget....

the drive this morning to makati was a noisy one, in my head that is. the urge to shout and scream and kick and throw a fit was strong, thankfully so, the previous night's activities had left me a bit sleep deprived, and thus, low in the necessary energy to get violent. like in a lot of things in my life, it seems, greater powers that be knew how to deal with me best. i am calmer now. i still itch to throw a nasty fit though, but then, what good would it do? what use would it be besides entertainment, maybe, for curious people, and food for their intentions... what ever they may be.

the drive this morning also was enlightening, i guess. the push of pent up emotion had to be weighed down by some serious thinking, most of which was a reassessment of things that had happened. why it happened, how it happened. thank goodness for my vivid memory. thank goodness for an even clearer emotional recollection. it was the slumber party. it all ended there. everything stopped there.

i had an entire post constructed in my head already, about all that had happened, detailed, supported by facts, interestingly, in reverse chronological order. from my last impression during the slumber party (even to the boxer shorts he wore) all the way back to the gentle message he left me on my already extinct social network account. i wanted to justify and validate myself and my current sentiments... but i think, i was just really wanting to feel more hatred for someone i already know i have no more feelings for.

so be it, and let things be.exist, like how we have always been. you be you. i be me.

find relevance in your endeavors. 

i will stop here.

baka may dumulas pa na salita. pagchismisan na naman ang buhay ng may buhay.

adrift

i could be loosing my touch. either that, or i could be just realizing that i have been sustaining myself with only the dredges of what used to be there. funny how the events led to this realization, here i thought i was the "helper", helping my friend thru a touch patch, when in truth, i was the one who was helped by being exposed of how lacking i truly am.

i sometimes stare at myself in the mirror, often late at night, studying my body. i try to recall how i looked before and how i felt back then when i looked the way i looked. i would then remember and look at my body now for how it is, how much thinner i am now, how much more chiseled, muscular, lean, how taller i now look and how much better i carry myself... that is, until i see pass the illusion and see that i haven't changed as much as i originally thought.

i am finding myself growing steadily curious of a few people, maybe because of how they have stayed anonymous and therefore, mysterious. people like MANECH, whose writing and persona reminds me so much of VICTOR GREGOR for some reason. then there is also THE FICKLE CATTLE, and how easily words flow out of him. there's also JOHNNY CURSIVE, particularly since he draws extremely well. part of me wants to know these people even more, though part of me wants to stay away as well. it's been a long time since my genuine curiosity has been aroused. it would be nice to sustain it for a bit longer.

a good friend, chris, commented on how different my writing was during my birthday. i must admit, it was rather raw and very unlike me to publish something that hasn't been thought over a billion times. then again, writing that way felt good in a sense. sometimes, when we edit our thoughts too much, we edit reality as well.

i found myself looking at a cute guy last sunday, while at the mall. what kept my attention at him though was him playing with his beautiful daughter. i wonder then, will i ever have a family of my own? will be a good husband if i were to be married? will i be a good provider, a good father, a good mentor, a loving spouse... ah, a new year older, a new set of questions now.

i could be loosing my touch... either that, or i am now at a point in my life when i no longer feel that i have already let go.

impressions over a weekend

that spas will always be sites for cruising, despite how family-oriented the place may be. eyes will always wander, and for some people, feet too. it's already embarrassing enough to have advances be rejected, but to have it escalated that people needed to be escorted out, interrogated and most probably, blacklisted from the establishment, just because they could not keep their eager appendages to themselves, is just too sad. even the gays looked down on it, as one older queen said "madami namang ibang lugar dyan, dito ka pa nanlalandi".

a 200 peso tip is not necessary if something expected is done right. it is, however, almost too little if something is done exceedingly well. my masseur, Jess, whom i am shamelessly plugging, knows his stuff. being a therapist myself, i often find myself scrutinizing the technique of whoever handles me, even evaluating their enthusiasm in their work. Jess, however, from the first time he handled me, was different and had always been different from the rest. quality of work like that should not be left unrewarded.

dimples always catch my attention, that and a beautiful smile. i spotted you as you were walking down the driveway, despite the fact that you and your friend were shrouded by the corridor shadow. i hate it that i could not recall your name (hence, no way to check your facebook, hehehe). you are quite definitely good eye candy.

i have a new found respect for someone. i did not come about it because of the things that he does, but because of how his people treat and stay loyal to him. your passion is admirable.

it is a blessing to be able to share something precious to a friend. i may have only so few, and among those few, fewer that is of value. but to be able to offer the best that is of me, that little that i foolishly had failed to nurture, that little faith i have, was a glory to me. i hope it would be help to you too.

boy of little impression, i hope your eavesdropping would help you rekindle something that you lost a long time ago.

tight shirt buttons and drunken fingers from a disinhibited admirer can be an awkward combination.

a kiss in the cheek was all i got, that and long, warm, and pleasant hugs. it would have been nice to have gotten more than what was offered. it would have been nice if i asked for more from what was given, but i did not. i don't think i should make room to complicate things further. things are already cumbersome as it is.

israel is hilarious, to say the least, inebriated or sober. 

interlocking fingers, i had thought, would make me feel something again, but it did not. i seem to be loosing my touch. nothing felt the same that entire night.

large crowds always leave me feeling drained.

skipping church, despite how i lack sleep, should never be an option. i wouldn't know how life would be for me now, and the many years to come if i did so yesterday and did not hear what i heard. never belittle opportunity.

my barber, tata, is by far, a perfectionist. he is also very nice to look at as he studies your hair and your head.

shoe salesmen are fun to talk to. they are also funny to look at as they fight with each other as to which sells the better shoe.

i love to smile and greet sales people back. courtesy should always be returned. i can only imagine how awful it must feel to be treated as if you don't exist.

you can get away with a lot of things as long as you remain pleasant. throwing an attitude will never get you complimented.

popcorn and chocolate tastes weird. caramelized popcorn with chocolate is even weirder.

fatigue, dry eyes, mismatched interiors and sensory overloading turn me obnoxious.

i think i know what's happening

can't seem to wake up early.
chronically depressed.
sudden voracious appetite.
lethargic most of the day.
lower body temperature despite activity.

my body is gearing for HIBERNATION!!!!

the recovery

i recall, many years ago when i was still in college, my psychiatry professor discussing about depression. he said, we all suffer from some form of depression at some point in our lives, however, what makes our occasional sadness or mood swings different from pathologic depression is that the latter interferes with normal daily life. he said this would a commanding tone to his voice, something that immediately made the entire class quiet to a faint hush, after which, he shifted to his usual crazed antics by demonstrating the weird behaviors of patients suffering from schizophrenia.

i sometimes wonder, it must be a blessing to be gifted with a will like mine. it's almost a sort of inner stubborness i have developed, set to ward off thoughts and ill-conceptions that have frequented my troubled mine through many years. i have never really realized it, until just recently how fortunate i am to have one, since, it would have been just too easy for me to succumb... if i had allowed myself to.

pathologic depression, like what a friend of mine is currently going through, would have her lie sleepless at night, her mind racing in the dark, bombarding her with thoughts upon thoughts, fears and demons and random ramblings, she, incapable of silencing them herself without the help of a sedative. waking up in the morning is hard to do as well. your entire world seem to be imploding and there is no way out. either you cant find it, or you won't take it. its a horrible feeling, trapped within an invisible cage, drowning in a soup of chaos while lost in a world of normalcy. you perceive malevolent undertones in peoples voices, a superimposed hatred in all their good intentions, slowly, steadily, weighing you down as you struggle to move on from day to day....

i find myself waking up not wanting to, ironically, an inner emptiness keeps me heavy. but then, my force of habit kicks in, and i prop myself up, because that is what i do every morning. grim thoughts zip through my head many times, how my life feels meaningless and how it bores me, then, i think of all the things i would leave behind and worry, who will finish them. more so, it irks me that i would have to trouble people to finish what i had started. my sense of duty to my job wins every time. i can't even consider suicide. i am a coward in that respect. then the overwhelming melancholy engulfs me. this, by far is the hardest to overcome. compacted, almost solid, i push through this wall, just hoping to get through to the other side. funny how extreme sadness changes how the world looks. everything looks like they are coated with a glaze, shiny and bright, pleasant as it may seem, the glaze also emphasizes all its imperfections, and you see crack and fissures. flaws in their characters. it cuts and it bruises, and in your already weakened state, you prepare to give up. then i remember the pain i have when i run marathons. i remember the excruciating spasm and cramps i would have, as if bone is breaking, as if muscles is being ripped from my leg, and yet, i still force myself to limp forward, taking occasional walking breaks, just so that i can cross the finish line, even in the least definition of running.

trudging through this wall is a marathon of my soul. i am limping. i am cramping. i am seizing in pain. but i am still trudging, because stopping and giving up doesnt seem to be an option i consider, because, i am blessed to be stubborn that way.

thank you my Lord. thank you very very very much.

tuesday afternoon

i arrived at the coffee shop just in time, a few hours prior to my meeting. a few hours, just enough time for me to adjust, to rest, to unwind, to rewind, and hopefully, to get inspired again.

watching people pass by the large windows, walking past the shop's tall mullions, almost made it took like i was viewing a zootrope, a very large one at that. i was trying to daydream again, something i haven't done in a long time, but sadly, all i could do was stare blankly outside, my brain refusing to let go of reality. i turned back onto my papers, now bloodied in red ink as i had been drawing line on top of lines, hoping to score just the right one, hoping, with some luck, i would be satisfied.

i wonder if she'll like it. i wonder if she'll feel disappointed. i was thinking of my meeting later, my client being the manager that she is. a lot rested on this project going smoothly, part was my reputation, part was the reputation of other people. this probably explained the pressure i felt i was in, undue to a great degree, but i still have to unlearn how NOT to overdo things. wandering thoughts would distract me from an impending anxiety attack. random thoughts, for once, were very welcomed.

josef and alfonso dropped by, knowing that i was in the area. seeing them was genuinely uplifting. they made me smile, almost by reflex. i missed that as well, uncomplicated gestures of simple pleasures. we talked for a while, partly catching up since i haven't seen them in such a long time. partly, for me, just enjoying their company and feeling less being alone with just my work. we spoke about work and how we could escape it, even for just a moment. Sagada came up, and i offered them my experiences of the place. told them to ride "top-side" as the jeep meanders through the cliff face. scary shit, but nothing can replace the experience and the breath-taking view. we talked some more, our voices mixed with giggles and silence, eventually, the silence won over and it was time for them to go.

there weren't so many people passing outside the large windows of the coffee shop now, the streets were just filling up with cars. joel passed by soon after that, but my brain was already bracing for the meeting that was drawing near. i was present, yet i was absent as well, and could not be as engaging as i had wanted. my apologies, joel. coffee's on me next time we meet.

my contractors arrived finally. joel took his exit. i briefed them of the scope and perused through the contract, just to make sure all was in order. i packed up my bag and led them upstairs to my client's office.

the meeting went well. they often always do. i just wish i would remember this, next time i prepare for another meeting.

no longer said in hushed tones

don't you feel it's tiring sometimes, when you have to constantly check yourself, even twice over, always trying to make sure that everything you say, everything you do, even everything you think, has to be proper, right and considerate? i don't know about you, but this has been a habit of mine for as long as i can remember. well, not really, maybe just as far back as the last sermon i got from my parents or my brother about being more courteous, more cautious, or more mindful, or more tactful of my actions. a good reputation is hard to build and harder to keep with people always more than eager to nit-pick on whatever weakness they can get their claws on. this being so, sometimes, it is better to be immobile, indifferent, unopinionated, callous, dumb, blind, deaf, rather than risk being troubled by what could have just been honest observations.

but people cannot always be quiet. i cannot always be quiet.

maybe i should start unlearning.

anobah

i'm still feeling that need to make my "birthday" feel extra special, resistant to the fact that it felt just like any other day. however, despite my efforts, i can't seem to break through how uneventful its turning out. even my day-after felt depressingly unremarkable, besides having a lunch-gift-date with joel and dan (thank you, mader).

could this be because i am older, too old to feel the novelty of having a birthday? or maybe i simply just lost it already, whatever it is that you're suppose to have to make you birthdate feel extra special?

i spent most of my entire day replying to greetings, a task i found utterly humbling since, never did i expect i would get so much. what made me feel extra grateful was receiving two calls, one from turkey, another from india, both from beloved friends.

birthdays for me used to be used for introspection, for self-assessment of the year that was, in hopes that i be able to gauge how far i have come and how far i still have to go. this year, i don't really feel i have gone that far. i also don't know how much i still have to go. there are tell-tale signs that something is brewing, somewhere. that would probably explain why i fell rather off lately. almost as if im bracing for impact. i can't seem to experience any emotion right now. it sucks really. everything tastes and feels utterly bland.

i'm hoping the coming days would prove to be more revealing. i hope things would finally be clearer and that i would be able to feel again, other than this "limbo" that i seem to be in right now.

took an emotional exam last night... a shrink confirms that i'm an intuitive empath alright. why i'm writing about it, i have absolutely no idea.

things really haven't been make much sense to me lately.

the morning after

the morning after...

i am a year and a day older.
i am hoping i am wiser.
i hope i am sharper.
i wish i could be happier.
i miss feeling secure in myself.
i longed to feel connected.
i wish i did not dissociate myself last night.
i wonder why i felt out of place.
i agree that Red said that he is socially inept.
i think Red should just learn to think beyond himself, to cure his ineptitude.
i think Red should stop focusing on (subconsciously) trying to prove himself to others.
i think Christian is casually charming.
i think Christian is smarter than how he presents himself to be... terribly smart.
i am surprised to learn that people find me intimidating.
i agree that Marc does look like enchong dee, only slightly darker and not as tall.
i am very intrigued with Marc's ear ornament, but i neglected to ask him about it last night.
i am acknowledging how beautiful Josh's skin is, how deep his crow's feet are when he smiles, and how magnetic is his smile. it explains a lot why people are drawn to him.
i think my attraction to Josh is because i can't seem to demystify his appeal. i still think it's the unibrow tho.
i am still emotionally detached with Patrick. part of me just doesn't trust him anymore.
i miss the ideals of being a young man, like Dan.
i don't miss however, the conflicts inexperience offers, like that of Dan's.
i miss innocence. 
i find myself on a slow watz with all my fears in life. i just hope my deep respect for them doesn't bite me back later on.
i wonder why Brian doesn't make any impression on me. i almost forgot about him while writing this post.
i am surprised how people can be independent of the good opinion of others.
i just realized how soft Gibb's skin is.
i think Jonas is quite good looking.
i realized that Lance is bow-legged, hence the unusual gait, almost like wearing heels, as someone pointed out last night.
i found i was struggling to stay connected last night.
i find it strange that i don't feel my birthday is relevant to me anymore.

i am still thankful though for everything.
there is a purpose for all of this.

i will find it.

point blank

honestly.

am i regretful? i am not.
am i still hopeful to reunite? no i am not.
am i ready to move on? i already have.
have i forgotten him that quickly? i think of him everyday still.
do i have any resentment against him? none whatsoever.
why don't i want things to be ok with him again? because it wouldn't work anymore.
are you that sure? yes. i am.
are you willing to see other people? not yet.
so what do you intend to do now? what i always do, live normally.
you still feel like you're in a funk, what gives? it takes a while to regain the part that you gave away.
you're not in this asking for sympathy? apparently, i'm unsympathetic.
you're bitter? i'm more sarcastic. it's a defense mechanism to lighten the pain.
so you're pained? not so much anymore.
so why still dwell on this topic? because, despite how robotic my life is, it help to remind myself that i am, human still.

do you think you'll ever love again? love is such a strange word for me now... only time will tell if i ever reach that point.

no to drama

"say no to drama", that should be my mantra. i was feeling rather dejected yesterday, despite having convinced myself that i really shouldn't since there REALLY wasn't anything wrong. i had everything i needed, i was well supported, i wasn't flooded with work, and despite how recent events turned out, things are working out for the good. that all said however, it seemed that i still could not get myself out of my funk. i wasn't necessarily sad, bu i wasn't happy and cheerful either, unlike how i was before. makes me wonder now, was i genuinely happier before even if i technically was emotionally detached? OR, am i just punishing myself for another failed attempt at a relationship, being the masochistic person that i sometimes am?

kuya once told me i'm a drama queen, that i draw from whatever unpleasantness that happens in my life, big or small, and use it fuel my warped sense of validation. i have to feel sorry for myself to make me feel good, was his analysis. funny how my brother and i communicate, noh? then again, he feels with his mind too.

"say no to drama". i'm saying it again. i guess i'm a bit hung over with the fact that i don't have another person to focus my attention to anymore, and get attention back. i'm actually missing feeling intimate with a person, nothing sexual, trust me, but more of being able to open myself to a person and just allow myself to be. i'm always guarded, always restrained, always controlled. it gets exhausting but i can't help it... i'm anal that way (wholesome thoughts, people!!!) so to be able to let it all go, even if just briefly feels like a much-needed vacation. one reason probably why i still think of M, then again, he could have been anyone... which was why i decided to stop dating him, because he could have been anyone.

i'm trying to find my center again. tried praying about it, tried asking God "what now?" so far, no replay yet. will try asking again later. He must be busy fixing the repercussions of last monday's blunder. i forget, MADAMING MADAMING CHINESE PALA SA MUNDO. nyehehehehe....

the vision

he was asking me something about a driver or driving. i recall i said i had none and that i would be driving alone. he then started reprimanding me, his demeanor now agitated, his voice raised to the point of screaming.

i felt feverish this afternoon. i had started my day early with a training run and joined a body balance class with narnian, my running friend. after having a light lunch, i proceeded to run errands for my clients before deciding to head home. i had originally intended to use this holiday to catch up with my backlog, but upon reaching home, was overwhelmed by an intense feeling of fatigue. i was too tired to even sleep and found myself forcing myself to take a short nap. i soon found myself deep in slumber. so deep, it took my mom a while to rouse me. so deep, i had a very clear dream... of M.

my subconscious knew what i felt most concerned about him. it recognized the threat in his personality and was never swayed by constant reasoning, that i was ok with it, that it was not bothering me. i had convinced myself that we all have our peculiarities, that this could be M's, that his passion, his fiery nature, it makes him unique. his temper just makes him human, that i could live with it. i told myself this over and over, every time is see him get irritated with minute things, whenever he would burst in expletives when talking about his driver, or his secretary, whenever he gets annoyed with his parents. i would tell myself this, and find myself looking at his face, as i notice the lines deepen on his brow and how his eyebrows approximate, how his lips purse as the rants, how i search his face with any endearing feature while staring with my faint smile at him, trying my hardest not to be afraid, not to be affected, not to feel overly sensitive, and the empath in me, stand down.

it has been three days now since i said goodbye to M. as the days pass, i realize more and more of our incompatibilities, not really as a way to pacify my ego, but more as to rationalizing why i never developed a deep emotional connection with him. i think in the month that i was with him, i gave myself enough time and opportunity to learn as much and to consider him as much, not in respects of what my ideal mate is, but more of what is best for me. M was not my physical type, nor was he ideal in many other things, but he felt as if he was right, that he was what i needed, even that we were what each of us needed. it would probably explain why i lingered as long as i could. i didnt want to let the chance slip me by, that maybe i was being too quick to judge, or too quick to fear.

the last dinner we had that eventually became the start of the end revealed to me something about M. though i understand him in a lot of ways, and that M, in his good nature, does support me and care for me, during our conversation that night, while he was explaining to me his surprise and disappointment in my not being able to see his point in his argument, he mentions that i was unsympathetic. his saying of that, i guess, triggered the emotional (though still controlled) response he has been also complaining that i lacked. it dawned on me that i cannot be in a relationship with someone who doesnt appreciate me for what is practically my core nature. i had been willingly overlooking many of my ideals to make M and me fit and work, even to the point that emotions, or the lack of it, was no longer necessary, since i felt i can be bound by duty. but his negating my person by saying i was unsympathetic, there after by, comparing me to his best friend, that i could not take.

i wonder now, what really was it about me that he saw? what did he like? why could he not have seen this part of me?

the answer

it was a simple answer, but a rather hard thing to do. i feel with my mind, he says, and he feels with his heart. i agreed. i'm too detailed he said, i'm too analytical.

i am detailed, i am analytical. i feel with my brain for this is the only way i can make sense of everything around me. emotions, i said, wane, and therefore cannot be trusted. it doesn't mean however that i don't feel. i do. except that, i had learned not to depend on them too much. yet when things feel devoid of emotion, things that really shouldn't, despite how much i don't trust emotions, it raises concern. i am concerned that maybe.... there really isn't anything there. that maybe, i stay for other reasons. reasons of which are not the right reasons to prolong what has now been a month's long courtship.

i surrendered to the fear last night. it had nagged me for so long. i had tried to quell it. prayed for it. tried to make peace with it, but it still would not leave. they said it was all in my head, that i had no solid proof of my fears, that i was simply imagining my lack of emotional attachment to the relationship, that if i spoke to him about it, i will be appeased. so i did, we spoke... and my fears.... were confirmed.

he said, i'm not sympathetic, but that was alright. he didn't mind we didn't agree. but... he didn't see i was empathizing, something that was very me. there were so many things we shared in common... but we didn't connect in any of them.

i may feel with my brain and not with my heart, but doing so allows me to see, to observe, to rationalize, to defend, so that i can eventually love whole-heatedly. it allows me to build a stubborn grip on something that for other people, may not make sense, but i hold on anyways since i know, in my brain, that i had thought about it it well and am willing to take the risk. my method is far from perfect, but it produces for me good results.

one month is now over. another possible relationship, gone. no regrets though. i was given the strength to overcome... just as what i prayed for.

i was praying yesterday morning, asking my Lord what i will do in my life. i then had a feeling, like the type you know is the most honest, and it said it was time to let it go.

M was kind. M was gentle. M felt like he was what i needed... then again, i really should not trust on feelings alone.

the fear

what do you say? what do you do? when everything that should be perfect doesn't feel to be quite so? we're communicating. we're understanding. we're connecting and yet, despite all the good things, despite all the right things, the feeling doesn't feel like that at all.

a revelation of wants versus needs, that seems to be the lesson in all of this. though i enjoy how this new chapter in my life is unfolding, i cannot avoid but feel sometimes the fear it strikes in me as well. the fear of the unknown. the fear of having no control. the fear of failing. the fear of not being enough. the fear that this "disfeeling" i am having, could be the sign that what was given is now being taken away.

i want to work this out.

i want to be wise in handling this, just like how everyone should when handling the heart of another. i am just afraid, despite how i think i am wise... that in reality, i am actually foolish in thinking that i can handle this.

S.S. 2:14

my love is like a dove,
in the clefts of the rock,
in the covert of the precipice,
that's where my love is safe.

in this secret place we meet
hear your voice, my love is sweet
your countenance is lovely
and here you're pleasing to me.

let me hear your voice
see your countenance
for your voice is so sweet
and you're lovely

let me hear your voice
see your countenance
for your voice is so sweet
and you're lovely to me.

- Howard Higashi

the war

it's beginning to happen, i suppose. last night i felt it already, that dead calm i fall into whenever i get overwhelmed with a decision. i, in myself, am now trying again to escape and my rummaging through my brain, relying on my intelligence and powers of rationalization, that self preservation and self-righteousness are reasons enough to drop something, even if there is no imminent threat in sight.

he wants to introduce me to his friends, all of them. he wants to spend more time with me. run with me. work with me. he sang to me last night, his voice beautiful. he said he wishes me to be the last thing he sees in the evening and first he sees in the morning. he reaffirms his intentions with a long, tight embrace, his body's warmth cocooning me, and a gentle kiss on the lips. he presents himself utterly lovely... but all i can do was linger in silence. silent because i wanted to stay but knew i had to go. silent because i was falling fast but fighting to slow down. silent because i wanted to be brave but was frightful for my life, frightful because this is uncharted territory for me, frightful that this will change me, frightful that i am coming undone.

i used to think it was my insecurities, my unfounded, warped self image, that was the root cause of all this i had, that made me always hesitate. but last night, as i readied myself to sleep and faked my first sweet good-night to him over the phone... i knew, the insecurities were just a ruse. it was far easier to justify that i measure myself short compared to him, rather than face the true reason, that i was not willing yet to give up my life for another, that i was not yet ready to change, that i was not ready for love and the commitment, that i was not ready to be an adult yet.

so now the tug-of-war begins. on one side is him, on the other me, myself and i.

changing

I really shouldn't be that much surprised anymore. Just when i had begun to teach myself to settle to my current situation: working a desk job; fixed schedule; a rather monotonous existence; God decides to shake my snow-globe world and make things a little more interesting for me. Disequilibriic-equilibrium, my own word for this, whatever it is, that i'm feeling. i really should be feeling frantic, anxious, paranoid, and concerned. in a matter of just a few days, my orderly world of organized, scheduled events suddenly went through a complete upheaval. my days are now erratic, my plans ever-changing, my life suddenly feeling unstable again.... and yet, a certain calm still rests upon me. there is a sense of ease in all the seeming chaos and despite the many uncertainties, i can surprisingly still feel happy. Good LORD! i'm turning into an optimist!!!!!

i read a confession yesterday, written by a great friend's significant other. it tells of an internal conflict, about how to reconcile the two contrasting worlds now part of his life. i read it and recalled a prayer i made that morning, while on my morning drive to work. i asked the Lord, is He sure of what He's doing? of what He's giving? of what this would lead me to? i had once prayed for an answer and His long silence, i had thought, was His disapproval of my request. i accepted it whole heartedly, without question. but now.... but now....

i really should be feeling frantic, anxious, paranoid, and concerned, but all of these things that has been happening to me, only raised a simple request. My Lord giveth, my Lord taketh away... if one day, He decides that His purpose for me has been realized and He chooses to take everything away, that on that day, i would at least be strong and that my faith, small that it always has been, would be enough. for i think, on the day, when the day does come, i really won't have anyone of anything else besides Him.

i made a pact will God when i was young, that i will always be of service to Him. God, i have learned, never forgets.

the decision

there is a verse that i recall, every time i think of love. almost automatically, it pops up in my head at the very moment my heart gets stirred with the pitter-patterings of what-could-possibly-be. it is my most honest definition of love, in its simplest sense, devoid of all the romance and emotion, stripped to its true and rawest nature.

i turn to this verse as a mold of sort, hoping that what i feel would fit, or if not, at least conform. more often than not tho, what i have turns out to be something totally different. the search or the waiting then continues on. i am my Lord's work in progress, deconstructing and rebuilding, hoping at the end of it all, with much experience of Grace, will be able to say... that i am able to suffer long. that i am kind, that i do not get jealous, nor brag, nor is puffed up. That i do not behave unbecomingly and does not seek my own things, that i do not provoke and does not take account of evil. that i do not rejoice because of unrighteousness but rejoices with truth, for my love covers all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

that my love will never fall away.

dawning

it was all for the best i think, seeing you once more, and for some brief moments, have you close beside me. i got to smell your hair again, touch you skin, feel your body heat against mine. i lingered there for a little while, trying my best to relive the days when i had you for myself, though shared, but still mine. it was a comforting feeling for a while, but reality had its firm grasp on me already. time had had its way with me and it could no longer allow me to slip back far into the past. it anchored me to my present, a rather somber, lonely, and awkward reality.

there was a detachment there. nothing felt familiar, despite being surrounded by old faces and voices. i tried hard to mingle but things no longer fitted the same. everything had changed. i had changed. and so when you left and i was left by myself again, i did not long anymore. and though part of me felt frustrated not to have been able to spend as much time with you, in the end, it didn't really matter anymore. my present had already disassociated with my past, and i have no need of holding on anymore. i bade you farewell, my only honest gesture to you that evening. i know the words now.

i had been in the gray for so long, it should be time to step back into the light.

muay thai

basking

the dying wanderer

when these feet no longer bear to tread
through valleys of imagination
when abysmal depths reveal their ends
under your vast, finite horizon
as murmuring winds turn to blowing
as i sit and watch from my cliff edge
and wait, i wonder, for his coming
he, who will take everything away. 

the sun slowly sets from my vision
his colors fading to sullen gray
and leaves me in my deep reflection
of a life spent chasing after day.
he sinks into dark, golden waters
he leaves to greet better seeing eyes
as mine relinquishes their wonder
and surrenders to the night beyond.

i breath my last dying breaths for thee
you, my garden of earthly delight
for all your stories, full of splendor
and your hidden truths that shed great light
of a fleeting world loosing luster
a deceitful orb casting dull shine
reflecting a once curious wand'rer
beholding the dying soul, of mine.

livid

respect. i certainly earned enough through the course of my short life. if you demand what is due to you, then be fair and give what is due to me, and i'm not even asking for that much.

how dare you answer for me.
how dare you determine what i should or should not do.
how dare you take away my right to a choice when you yourself demand always for yours.
how dare you set a different standard for me.

you see me weak, i see myself weak as well. how else can i not be when even until now, i am still forced to submit.

you should have never given me the idea of having choices. at least, it would be something less for me to think about.

what's in a name

i have been reading about Jacob this week for my morning readings. Jacob, the son of Isaac, not Jacob, the werewolf, OK! anyway, being a christian all my life, his story is very familiar already to me. however, it was only recently that i kind of appreciated what message was hidden in his story, more so, the story of his name.

Jacob, the name, means heel and supplanter. it basically foretold of his nature since Jacob, if you read his life wasn't really the most upright man. even from birth, he hung onto the heel of his brother, Esau, hoping to be the first-borne. he eventually stole Esau's blessing by tricking his blind father, which led him to flee his father's house and sojourn in the desert, tending to his uncle's sheep. he tricked his uncle and well, but had himself hoodwinked of a wife (all is fair i guess). however, somewhere along his story, Jacob, the supplanter's name changed to Israel, which means, God prevails.

I was rather moved when i realized how significant this name change was. throughout his life, it seemed Jacob connived and struggled. he cheated and was cheated and fled from one place to another. but it seemed that God really had a plan for him, for as you track down his life, his once rough and rugged nature as the supplanter eventually disappeared. in the end, he became a distinguished figure, even to a point that Pharoah, king of the greatest empire of their day, was willing to be blessed by him. this is Israel, this is how God prevailed.

sometimes i feel like the world is against me. then i will remember this story and pray, I am Jacob, God is turning me into Israel.