the wandering polar bear

small things

2011-12-09T21:28:00.001+08:00

hello blog.

it's has indeed been a while since I was last here. Many things have happened since my last visit. So many, I really have no idea where to start. There's just so much to tell, some I have actually forgotten already, but some, the major ones. the significant ones, of course, I will never forget.

for starters, I just passed my first year of being in a relationship. yes, my beloved and I just celebrated our first anniversary. I never really thought I would get this far, just because I never really looked that far ahead. But just because we did get this far, it fills me with hope, and maybe, to allow myself to see that I just might not grow old alone after all.

I took him to lunch at La Cocina de Tita Moning, just for a change from our usual mall-dining experience. I also thought he might like the taste of home cooked food for a date (not my cooking, obviously). he however loved the place more, I believe. it reminded him, he said, of the place they lost to the lahar when he was young. i could see that, as he was sitting on the receiving sala sofa, that his mind had drifted off already to simpler, happier, more peaceful days. I was happy nonetheless. its details like this that make lasting memories after all.

We had our first major fight a few days after that. On his birthday, of all days. My fault really. I was an idiot. A good one at that.

Our anniversary celebration continued to his first trip abroad. We flew to Vietnam to Saigon. Needless to say, I was a nervous wreck more than half of the trip since I sincerely dislike things when things go wrong, and considering we were both going to a country we have both never been to, and that i was with a first-time flyer, things did go wrong. the trip however was an eye opener for me. indeed there are many things that i thought that i had already dealt with with myself that still were there, and indeed, it took very little to unearth all the nasties inside me again. it was saddening yet enlightening, in a way. taking the optimistic way, my beloved and i chose to move on passed our differences and trudge ahead to possible commonalities that would strengthen our bond... this transition of course was made faster with a visit to the war museum. nothing makes your problems feel insignificant once you see pictures of dead bodies and deformed people, all after effects of man's hunger for supremacy.

my beloved learned how to haggle, and not to bring heavy books in his luggage. i learned to be more relaxed and be more patient... and not sweat the small stuff. letting go gave me more room to love, and love i did.

i also, in the midst of all this self discovery, am now a licensed interior designer. yes, i passed. thank the Lord. now, to get projects. Good ones hopefully and not the errand-esque projects thrown to me by relatives who think that what I do is easy.

I brought him to Singapore this year. We both ran the Singapore Marathon, tho we ran different distances. All that time, I felt my role change from lover to mother as I was scared for him most of the time. A part of me wanted to show him the world, yet a part of me wanted to keep that innocence about him. Then theres that part of me that just wants to keep him safe and not loose him since Singapore can be rather overwhelming sometimes...needless to say my worrying had its climax when he had to take the train alone to his race starting point. there were moments where i felt i was nagging already but i guess i justified it in my head that what i was doing was for the best. im happy to say that the race was incident free and that we BOTH survived :)

so many small things to say from the many small things that i have seen. the many small things that make the patches in this quilt of memories i am now making of me and him, him an me. my heart skips a beat when i see the quilt slowly grow in my head. every stitch, every square is another crystal eternalized in my heart.

i hope to grow this quilt to be big enough to be lost in. big enough for both of us to be lost in. to lie in. to cuddle in. to love in.

Rage

2011-10-21T10:04:00.001+08:00

i was walking to gym early this morning when i chanced upon a gridlock of jeepneys at my neighborhood intersection (yes, traffic jams do occur as early as 530am where i live, poor me). one of the jeepneys decided to park at the narrow, one lane street to wait for passengers, never minding the swelling growth of irate vehicles piling up behind him, blowing their horns like crazy, urging him to budge. since all the drivers in this country are opportunistic (including me, when the opportunity arises, of course), none of the irate motorists bothered to keep the intersection open, hence the gridlock. now, if this oblivious jeepney, who is the thrombus in this traffic blockade, just mindfully moved his vehicle a foot or two, then he would have opened up enough space for the motorists behind him to pass without him really loosing sight of potential passegenrs who, at 530am, would actually decide to ride, but no... he stood his ground. i didnt linger long enough to see how the situation resolved, but as i distanced myself from the inflaming scenario, i could hear rough shouting ensuing, my neighborhood has it limits for inconsiderate behavior too apparently.

as i walked further away, i heard a voice play in my head, and it sounded just like me, only angrier. i saw myself inside my car, immediately behind the said oblivious jeepney driver. i then found myself getting down and walking to the jeepney, grabbing the driver by the head and forcing him to turn his sight to the mess he has done. i then resulted to driving my car against the jeepneys bumper and pushing it forward. in the unfortunate but unavoidable event of violence erupting, i found myself ready for it, polar bears are the world's largest carnivores and we are highly protective in keeping that title.

i felt my heart racing as my imagination went bezerk with the images in my head. it was so vivid and so real that my muscles were tensing and sweat began to form on my brow. i shook the images off, hoping it would not escalate anymore and began to pray. the triumvirate were nowhere to be found, all three were silent for some reason. i wondered, do i now have a fourth in my head, the one to represent rage? i suddenly felt a tinge of sorrow in me, i always knew i had a temper but have been well enough to control it, but sadly so, lately, my irritability easily flares into full displays of rage, some that i even feel is so unlike me. i have never acted any of them out yet, but if my mind can now conceive it, then outward manifestations certainly cannot be far behind. i prayed again.

rage does not come out of nowhere, even though it may seem that way. it is a slow boil inside a pressure cooker, always starting out as a manageable simmer. i know because i have seen it before, and the prospects of behaving so uncontrollably, so violently frightened me to my core. i prayed again.

i often confess for my temper. i have confessed for anger, but not for rage, not for contempt, which fuels rage even more. to have a temper is normal, to get angry is too, but to allow both to root itself, unresolved and eventually influence my reality, thereby breeding contempt, that however is not, and i have to confess, i have allowed myself that, hence my rage.

i pray the Lord be kind, this is one serious matter i no longer can ignore.

introspections

2011-09-21T10:14:00.003+08:00

that sometimes, living is escaping.
even if sometimes, you can't seem to escape enough.

that sometimes, escaping is to retreat back into the hole
even if sometimes, it was the hole you first ran away from.

that sometimes the hole is a death-trap,
even if sometimes the hole is as good as home.

that sometimes, dying can be escaping too
just so you that you can be reborn again.

what happened...

2011-09-13T09:47:00.002+08:00

let me just say, i hate surprises. no wait, i DETEST them. i never enjoyed the feeling of the unknown and just the mere fact that something of the sort could be looming in my immediate future (in cases wherein someone was kind enough to leak me information) just drives me completely insane... as if i could get any worse. hence birthdays are a particular struggle for me. my ex-best friend before would often surprise we with unusual gifts, and despite the fact that it had already become a tradition between us every year, thereby also lessening the surprise-factor, just the mere fact that there was something "unknown" about the whole thing still gets me anxious. my birthday this year was no different, rather, it was since this is the first birthday i am celebrating while being in a relationship, so imagine only the level of anxiousness i had.

consider it grooming. i had been steadily breaking it to ros (my utterly adorable other half) about how i was not particular with special dates, as well as surprises. i had also been rather consistent (or so i believed) that i am better impressed by simple things and small gestures rather than grandiose expressions. thankfully so, he is keen to take note of these things, more so, also appreciates them since he too is not a fan of very overt gestures HOWEVER, for my birthday, he begged things to be different. enter the BAD feeling... i honestly have never seen anyone so excited for another's birthday but here he was, ros, practically bubbly with whatever it was that he was planning, NO, scheming, malevolently concocting in that brain of his... of what he wont tell me. not even give me a hint. threatening him with unimaginable pain would be futile since knowing him, when he says its a secret, it really is a secret and all i really could do was wait for that faithful, o horrible day...

september 9 fell on a friday and the entire day, i was in school taking an exam. ros had scheduled me for dinner and we agreed to meet slightly earlier to "prepare" for things to come. i had finished my exam early and got to makati earlier than expected. i decided to get a birthday haircut from my barber. he commented that i looked particularly dandy today. i told him i was off to a party later, not telling him it was my birthday. i loitered a bit more and eventually parked myself at my favorite coffee shop. ros arrived a few minutes later, practically beaming. i tried to hide my growing anxiety, as well as curiosity and struggled to keep myself calm and distracted. ros and i tend to feed off each other's energies and i was afraid if i got more anxious, he would get more excited, which would fuel my anxiety even more.... its a vicious cycle. ros eventually got things rolling and began to unravel his plot. the first installment was a scrap book he had made himself, which he demanded that i open leaf-by-leaf. as i panned through every page, my heart went soft, my mind wend numb and quite frankly, all my anxiety left me. each page contained a picture of a friend, holding up a letter, all the letters put together spelled HAPPY THIRTY SECOND BIRTHDAY. twenty five pages, twenty five letters, twenty five pictures of friends, some ros hasn't even met. he even had my BARBER and my cousin from Canada pitch in. to say that i was joyful is putting it lightly. i am at a lost of any expression as i feel the emotions for such hasnt even been invented yet. in the few minutes that i was there, flipping thru the pages over and over again, i could not stop thinking how much i love ros and that i could not show him how much it was that i did. all i could do was stare at his scrap book and flip through each page again and again.

we went out to dinner at Top of the Citi, his second installment to his well-orchestrated surprise. we dined at our own private room overlooking salcedo park, our table strewn with rose petals.... an overly cheesy detail the resto manager thought appropriate, that was until he saw two guys walk into the room. bwahahahaha! i'll let the pictures do the talking here :)

we finally capped the night off with his third installment. he bought me perfume supposedly specially formulated to make people happy. to be quite honest, he need not have had anymore. i think i have enough happy in me to last me a very long time. thank you ros. i love you very very much.

humanda ka sa birthday mo. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

9.9.2011

2011-09-09T00:00:00.000+08:00

it is with this glimmer that i lay my little faith, this sliver of light in what has been many years of walking in fog and thick mist, unable to see, feel and touch the world around me, only hear the many voices and noises that surround me, following their direction, hoping that the ones i do heed are leading me the right way. i have walked in fear and in uncertainty all my life, even if i tried my best to hide it, even if i tried to show that i knew what i was doing, even if in truth, i was not... but you knew this, indeed, you knew this all along. nothing is hidden from you and my heart, my arrogant mind, and my falsely capable self was exposed. i was stripped of my strength and you allowed this to happen, only because you purposed it that it should be so, because it had to be. i fought you. i struggled against you but you were stronger. you were also steadfast and strict. you remained with me all this time, unwavering, unchanging, unrelenting, ever patient, ever sure, waiting until i had nothing more to offer and throw, waiting till i could surrender and see myself for what i am, what i have become... nothing. i was nothing. in my intelligence, this i could admit. i amounted to nothing. all that i am was nothing. all that i have been doing, that meant nothing as well. until i could realize this in my head and in my heart, you did not leave me, and now that i have seen this much of this universal truth did you open a way, this glimmer of hope, this light to my path, to lead me to something. you led me to see you for what you really are, not as my oppressor, but as my savior, for you have saved me from my just fate; my redeemer, for you had purchased me with the highest price, your own life; my emancipator, for in your death, you have unshackled me from all those that have bound me; my lord, for i am no longer of my own.

my praises are but a humble sacrifice to you. thank you. thank you. thirty-two years, you have been faithful. thank you for never leaving my side.

i love you, lord.

through the storm

2011-08-20T10:05:00.000+08:00

i cannot say that i have lived a long and full life yet, though on many instances, i may certainly feel like that. so on the often occasions when trials come my way, i sometimes have to remind myself not to groan or complain or murmur that i feel so oppressed, for certainly, someone as young, as immature, as fresh as i, cannot compare to those who indeed can claim that they have lived and have gone through many (unpleasant) things, but yet, have surpassed them all and have come out alive, quiet, seasoned, perfected and content.

recently, i was dealt a heavy blow, so heavy that i was rocked to my core. it challenged all that i had believed in, but more so, it exposed me of my delusion, something that i was the most thankful for.

i had always thought that i had well exercised faithfulness in my short, and rather different existence. but as i was dealt that blow and my faith was indeed tested, i learned, rather bitterly, that i had actually none but what i had thought was faith was actually just a convenient surrendering to the situation. though outwardly they looked the same, one was supported by an omnipotent God, while the other was a hollow act by an arrogant man. there was no power in my seemingly righteous act, neither was there anything righteous about it, and i was exposed.

it was a most horrible and frightening feeling, so much so that i still feel it now, the agony of it all. but despite the pain, despite the suffering, i also can say i was not left with nothing, though everything i knew and held dear was taken away. in my destitute, God finally became real, which i guess was the real reason for all of this, and clinging on to Him became the true exercise of faith. everything needed to be taken away, because God was to give me something greater, so great that it needed maximum room, room i did not have because i had cluttered myself with insignificant things.

john nelson darby said it well, "oh the joy of having nothing, and being nothing, and seeing nothing, but a living Christ in glory..."

i will not say that i do not pine for the things i treasured before, for the concepts, the self-righteousness, the might i had in me to overcome with my own strength. old flavors and old appetites take time to change, but time i do have, that and the wonderful experiences of having everything i need when i give up everything i want.

o what mercy.

o what glorious, all-sufficient grace.

fatigue

2011-08-18T10:25:00.000+08:00

there is no fight in me anymore
as i push against this surmountable wall,
against its brittle bricks and crumbling stone,
relenting to the pressure
i exert on its weary masonry.

the killing blow

2011-08-03T11:07:00.001+08:00

i wish i had a fragment of abraham's faith right now.

for no angel came to my beloved's rescue,

no one hindered me from making the final, cutting blow.

i wish i had a fragment of abraham's faith right now... but maybe a bit more

for abraham will never know the killing feeling i will forever know.

on a lighter note...

2011-07-26T10:27:00.001+08:00

the sparkle in your eyes
                     said it all.
words, suddenly,
lost all their meaning.
          dumbfounded.
mute.       scrambling, lost.
but words were not necessary,
that day.                 only sight
                                           and seeing.

emotions                              and feeling
a little of touch
                      a little of smell
                                           a dash of hearing

just a little

else everything in my overflowing
heart
                       spills all over the unworthy floor.

happy ninth.

walang kwentang review

2011-07-26T09:22:00.001+08:00

and so i finally, FINALLY happens. i had been wondering why it hasnt set in yet, maybe, by some great luck, i had skipped that phase... only to collide with it head-on a few moments later.
of course im still talking about school and the blasted review class im taking for my exams. three weeks down and just when i thought i had finally found my rhythm, i wake up monday morning and found myself not being able to recall ANYTHING from the past two weeks. not only could i not recall anything, but the drive i had been banking on to push me till the end was all of a sudden, absent. the surging spring that was once gushing up within me was dry. all i was left with was my naked self, vacant, clueless and to a certain degree, stupefied. i was like "WTF happened?!" i got to work still feeling rather blank, and when i got to class later hat evening and saw my classmate buried till their noses in their notes, i started to get REALLY worried. there's something wrong.... i can FEEEEELLLLL IT!!!!

a few moments later, in comes the lecturer. her credentials say she topped the exams during her time, which wasnt that long ago. i even think i recall reading she graduated with honors in the country's top university.... whatever they may be, however colorful her academic resume may sound.... i really cant see any of it in her way of lecturing. even more depressing, when she teaches, i feel i get stupider by the minute. i cant seem to even think about the subject while listening to her. now, to add more insult to her slow torture, she decides to give a surprise quiz. needless to say, i failed miserably. blank brain, blank paper. if this happened when i was still in school, i would have never been able to live with myself... but now in review class, while i supposed to be surrounded by the freshest products of the best universities in the metro, while im supposed to be inspired by all this youth and the prospects of a thriving design industry.... i instead am finding myself dejected and, well, drained.

fear is slowly setting in. to think that i had survived what was supposed to be the THIRD most difficult exams given in the country (we had a national passing rate of 21%), i am slowly finding that i am getting more anxious with this one instead.

lord... help me.

writing the exams

2011-07-23T11:01:00.001+08:00

i'm finally talking to my classmates, though i still dont know their names.

yesterday was my first taste of the design class wherein we are giving a client profile and a set of requirements to fulfill. we are then given 9 hours to complete everything. i am happy to say i survived day 1 though i think i will have deductions for the quality of my work. even if it has been the suggestion of previous lecturers that it is more important to finish everything, rather than submit a few exemplary work, it really wouldnt have mattered since my brain was spitting garbage anyways. we were supposed to color our drawings and all i could do was wash the entire piece in a sea of beige. it was sooooooo mediocre it hurt. i found myself questioning, how in the WORLD can i call myself a designer if i design like this.

i couldnt help looking around at other peoples work and i found myself get more dejected. 4 years of actual practice hasnt shown in my work. i truth, it looked like i lived in a design hole for all that time, a practical death sentence to any designer since trends get churned out every millisecond! whats the latest craze today may be the dying fad tomorrow... and i certainly felt nothing CRAZE-worthy with my output.

of course i try to pacify myself. a full-time day job in the auto-spare parts biz, sideline interior design work, articles, family, lovelife, and miscellaneous errands, coupled with studying for the exams, isnt the easiest thing to do.... then again, i am just pacifying myself and i think my ego need none more.

i honestly dont know why the exams are this important. i just know they are. i just know i have to take it. of course my profession or my person doesnt depend on it. i had already learned that from taking my first exam, many years before, but i guess taking the exams this time is more for ending what i had started when i decided to go into design. the exams would be the clear cut moment when i can tell myself that i am or had fully invested myself when i took this course.

from the looks of my work, i may not be the most brilliant, nor the most artistic, but that shouldnt bother me anymore. i work because i like it. taking the exams is just another project. i just hope it doesnt kill me in the end... coz i feels like it sometimes :)

pardon for the post. my brain hasnt fully recovered from yesterdays exam yet.

Another driving post

2011-06-23T09:02:00.000+08:00

I cannot recall how often i have mentioned about my bitter-sweet relationship with driving. Although i cannot part myself with the obvious advantages of being able to shuttle myslef, at my own leisure from point A to B, i also cannot seem to get over the fact that it drives me crazy sometimes being behind the wheel, almost to points when i would find myself palpitating and close to screaming till my dog's eardrums hurt.

I have always wished i was a calm driver, someone who remains unfazed when jeepneys swerve unmindful of other vehicles, when pedestrians lazily cross as if theyre impurvious to on-coming metal, when pedicabs, motorbikes, dogs, cats, the occasional rats simple occupy the road without any consideration that death in the city comes with 4 wheels and xenon headlights. How i wish i could just be overwhelmed in my own zen rather that wishing for the most unfortunate of scenarios for those who would find themselves in the most unlucky of places, in my war path, for that is often the case when i drive. My route is my battle. Apart from rare sundays and pacquiao fighting on the idiot-box, my route always feels like driving in a video game.... Maddening.

More often than not, i drive with the radio off. I learned that music influences my mood, especially when i am most volatile when behind the wheel. I however give in when listening to classical music since, i thought, surely orchestral music can sooth my troubked driving soul. It did initially, until you get to fast paced, high-octane pieces that is, then its almost listening to heavy metal as well (brass... Heavy metal indeed). So im back to having the hum of my engine as my background noise. Imagine what would happen if they suddenly play VERDI!!!!

This morning, i tried doing what i used to do before, that is to sing. I think it worked since i got to the office with the slightest bit of agitation. I guess ill try this for a couple of days. Dont worry, il keep it soft. Im sure the weather wouldnt mind.

Choices

2011-06-22T11:06:00.000+08:00

Basing from my personal experience, God often speaks to me in a very soft, and quiet way. I guess He expects that, since i am the naturally introspective type, that it would only be amatter of time before i would hear what He has to say to me. On the other occasions however that i have been lagging on my regular self analysis, God would exercise (tho rarerly, i must point out) a level of impatience and speak with a louder voice, making sure that even deaf ears can hear, particularly mine.

I guess it was a growing voice within me, a soft but persitent nudging that started it all. Again, my views about my identity, me, and my homosexuality was put under scrutiny, and like how i was many years ago, i find myself at a lost of answers.

I would like to think that i have made peace with what i am, but with how things are presently, i dont think i had been thorough. I cannot deny that i am to a great degree happy at my current situation. I am out to a lot of ppl and am blessed by their unprejudiced acceptance of me. I have close family members who know i am gay too and have taken me just as i am. I have found someone to love and who loves me back. I am surrounded by great and supportive friends, gay and straight. What else is there not to be happy about? However, i still cannot say that i feel complete. Though i cannot complain of the blessing i have been given, a part of me still feel that there is something amiss with it all.

I turn to God for enlightment often when i am faced with situations like this, but unlike when i was still searching for the real me, many year ago, i am a bit defensive now whenever i am face to face with my Master. i find that my mind braces for an arguement and fellowship with God often becomes uncomfortable, and consequently, brief and dry. I knew there was something wrong, but i didnt want to address it just yet. I guess i was fearful to do so. Fearful that in exchange for what i seek, God would ask me what i dread Him to ask, for me to choose.

I don't believe God is cruel. On the contrary, my faith in His unlimited goodness is what keeps me to Him. The problem obviously is with me. My short sightedness, my self righteousness, my pride, my self, and my very strong mind. A verse from Revelation comes to mind, how God stands at the door and knocks, and whoever oepns the door, He will come in. I hear the knocking, i hear the pounding, but i choose to speak to God thru the peep hole instead, distrustful of His intentions, unwilling to let Him have His way with me, even if in my mind, I know this is what i have to do.

falling again

2011-05-30T18:19:00.000+08:00

there has been a question that, for the longest time, i had fears of asking. i have always known how critical i am, especially with myself, and though answering this question may come so easy or so simple to many, it is not too so with me. i always believe to always answer truthfully, honestly, and unless i can qualify, quantify, justify my answers, then i rather avoid the question altogether, lest make an erroneous, even worse, a false answer.

what is love?

the question hurts for though my mind and my faith and even life experiences can give me many ways of responding, i cannot, in my opinion give a solid answer. i may have accounts of it, ideas of it, stories of it, but if i were to extract from my own personal experiences, then i feel i draw from a deep and empty well. i don't think i am love-less. i however feel that my mind often, sad as it is for me to admit, get in the way of feeling. maybe when made to draw from my well, i do so with the slotted basket of my mind, always open to suggestion or to new thought, never really tightly grasping onto rather complex and profound ideas such as love.

i often shudder at the thought, often when lost in deep introspection. my deeper self would ask how much do i love and i always find myself at a lost for words. i am caught speechless ever time, and the weight that i often carry myself, always severe, always calculating, would suddenly get dropped and i am left without defense, naked, frail and bare, vulnerable to the harsh reality of my shallow existence, subject to my own chastising now of never learning to appreciate, enjoy, cherish the many affections that come my way. that i had allowed myself to even have these pass me by, fall through the cracks of my slotted basket, into the deep well that is my unquenchable heart. what then, my deeper voice would ask eventually, would you offer when it is your turn to love? when you have nothing but empty gesture, hollow thoughts, and vanity to your credit.

my mind is a powerful, yet a dangerous thing. but i am slowly learning, that the heart can be as well.

in the quiet moments of my reverie, on the rare occasions when my mind is exhausted, my heart quivers. it skips, even if a little to the dream of having you wrapped with my arms, your read resting on my chest, your body's weight pressing on mine, and for the very few occasions, my body relinquishes its need to be strong and allow itself to be lost in your small power. how lovely it is drown in you, that i do not struggle but feel an overwhelming sense of rest. it is death in its sweetest form. a lovely execution, smothered by your affection, suffocated in your tenderness. i could stay here forever, until my mind awakens again and he slowly leads me away, loosening my embrace, tightening again the reins.

what is love? i know a little bit of it now. my mind tells me of its greatness but i once had nothing to substantiate it, that was, until i once again find myself falling, quickly, gently back into you, deep into your overflowing well. there is love. i hope you find it in me too.

the possession

2011-05-27T08:43:00.001+08:00

the possession. pencil. 5.24.2011

inner battles again

2011-05-21T10:34:00.000+08:00

was listening to the radio while on the drive to work this morning, and the commentator of the show i was listening to was discussing how, through Christ, we can be freed from every sin. His topic this morning was about low self-esteem though, something i quite honestly never really really associated with sin. he however was able to weave the web, like how good speakers do, and explained any that causes us to miss the mark (which is what sin really is) from enjoying what God has intended for us, all of it can be defined to be as sin, so low self-esteem, that feeling of worthlessness, that too is also sin.

i found myself wondering, is humility and low self-esteem the same? for quite often, in expression, they are seen the same and similarly, people react to them the same way. also, how about feign humility, something us chinese seem to be brought up to practice, what about that?

i guess it's not our job to discern who is truly humble and who is faking it or who is having problems with self worth. i guess the real work should be more of a self examination, that God will enlighten us of our real condition with regards to whether or now we are truly humble. i cannot deny, though i exercise to be humble and find discomfort in people's praise, deep down, i relish it. certainly who doesn't want to bask in people's approval? in the same matter, i also catch myself exercising my authority, even if its severely misplaced, over others, forcing my opinion, unrelenting to my position, and being stubborn to see beyond reason. i also am guilty of feeling never content with what i have, more so, what i pine for those i cannot have and feel that those will complete me. it's a self feeding lust, an auto-cannibalization that leaves me often questioning my value, my real potential, and instead, cause me to invest my energies in pursuing shallow, meaningless things in the hopes that they will satisfy me.

its easy to acknowledge these things. i find no difficulty in doing so since, having feigned humility allows you to see your lesser points and yet still save face. but the work ends there, acknowledging. i dont think i have taken any measures of really changing, more so, in a deeper sense, allowed God to heal that part of me. my self-worth, ironically, is deeply ingrained to my feeling of worthlessness. i find power in pity and it is a deadly thing.

i was disclosing some thoughts to ros this morning and his reaction to it threw me off, in a sense. in my stillness i began to feel a growing defense building inside of me and the familiar bitterness leered its ugly head once again. on a positive sense, it put my rather irrational emotions at bay. on the negative sense, it once again exposed me of this rouse i play. fooling myself, fooling other people, even those who are close to me.

there is much work that yet has to be done. i pray i can be given enough strength to overcome it all.

running in the rain

2011-05-19T21:26:00.000+08:00

it all began with the first clap of thunder, while the dark skies went ablaze with flashes of white, hot, light. the temperature changed. the air changed as the heavy silence after the thunder hushed almost everyone as it heralded the oncoming storm. lighting flashed again, the following thunder rolled in, much crisper this time. people began to move faster, walk more hastily, seeking cover, finding shelter, while ross and i kept steadily in our pace.

the wind's direction changed, like the turning of an invisible rudder. above us, though we could not see it, clouds billowed and churned as the storm grew angrier and louder, it seems, with every passing minute... with every passing minute we ignored its fury. we, ros and i, as well as other runners who too kept to their routine, horses of a giant carousel, ignorant or feigning ignorance to the violence that is building overhead... and then it came. a gust of wind blew in the first drops. the head phalanx was rushing on its way.

the rain fell heavy. it was strong, cold and unrelenting, but so were we. we ran in the rain. we ran in its almost solid wetness as drops got pounded into our soaking clothes, almost piercing into our wet, wet skin. water ran down into our eyes, it flowed into our mouths, into every willing orifice, hoping i guess, the discomfort would slow us down, but it did not. we kept to our pace. the trees rustled and shook, spraying the road with huge drops apart from the ones already falling. they hit you, almost like pebbles of hard liquid, stoning you, but we kept to our pace.

i began to slow down after that, the cold now setting in, my muscles now beginning to fatigue. i began to fall away, but you kept to your pace, and for the first time tonight, i was able to watch you run from behind. i was able to see the joy that beamed from your person as you drove yourself into the oncoming rain. you ran into puddles of deep water, purposefully splashing them with your new shoes. you stretched your arms forward and told me of how you, as a child, would pretend to be driving planes when would you run back then. you then began running in and out of the lane, criss-crossing about, ignorant of people watching, ignorant of the violence from above, ignorant from the deluge below, from the harsh cold wind, from the rough rustling leaves, from the steady admirer beaming at you from behind.

i have never seen you so happy.... and so was i.

fatigued

2011-05-17T17:23:00.000+08:00

i sometimes find myself feeling panicky on times when i think about the future. it seems as days pass and the more i feel older, a part of me suddenly gets jolted awake and scrambles to do something, anything, just to feel like i am not living a "wasted" life. not really saying that i feel i am living a rather worthless life, but i cannot help but think that i can be better, greater, live a more productive, fulfilling life, than what i have now.

i would like to think i dream good dreams, much grounded dreams, but a part of me is slowly realizing the tragedy that maybe, my good dreams are just too good to be true; or maybe that destiny has prepared me just to live a life that is mediocre, that i really am just meant to be mediocre and was mistakenly given a brain, a soul that should have belonged to another person, definitely not a person like me.

i used to very curious. i lived to learn and spent most of my time wandering and wondering, finding myself in the oddest of situations and thereby finding myself learn the oddest of things, that was, until i needed to grow up and learn the sensibilities of staying put, of growing roots and, in a way, cling onto something. now, my wanderings are limited to an office chair and browsing the internet, reading about the lives of those who maintained living the curious life, and trying my best through what remains of my boundless imagination, to presume to see what they may have seen, heard, felt, tasted. maybe in doing so, something will get rekindled in me to once again yearn to break free and stretch beyond the confines of this prison i am in.

my work consumes me now, and i don't even bother resisting the bite.

perched 5.2011

2011-05-11T17:53:00.000+08:00

sizing up

2011-05-11T08:56:00.000+08:00

i was getting off from my car this morning, looking rather like a mexican guerilla, as my mom would often jest of me. slung around my body are: my usual everyday man-bag; my rather full messenger/ laptop bag; my lunch kit on one hand; plus for today, my coffee press. needless to say i get where the analogous visual comes from and quite honestly, i dont really mind. anyway, as i was walking towards my office from my car, all my bags slung across me like Ms. Supsup's beauty queen sashes, my eye caught the sight of this rather good looking man from a distance. he was tall, pale skinned, and from the looks of it, chiseled, based on his form-fitting black shirt and jeans. he was walking in my direction so i could not stop and take a better look at him until i turned at the corner and glanced at him from the corner of my eye. just as i did, i noticed he was looking at me as well.

i recall asking my kuya sometime back regarding a curious observation i have had. i didnt really want to think too much of it and conclude anything about it yet, for surely, what really do i know? i asked him: i noticed when we're out that people often give me the once-over. i know i do it with people as well and often when i do, it's because either my gaydar alerts me, or i find the person attractive, or i find that what he (or she) is wearing is particularly nice and i need to take mental note. i presume this is also the reason why people do it with me, more often than not however, i think i alert their gaydar. but what really i find curious is that it seems, straight men do this as well. i've encountered many times noticing guys, even when with their girlfriends in tow, would glance at me. glancing i guess is ok, but to stare is something else, and not wanting to boast or anything, but i get stared at. kuya chided that maybe i just look weird in their eyes, that and he guesses, that i look huge as well. doesn't mean that straight guys have gay tendencies and are checking me out, guys, he guess, just like to stare.

i wonder if its just pinoys though. i dont recall people in dubai doing it, except if they're pinoy. people in HK or in SG, i found, dont do it too much either. i wonder if its because pinoy guys are just vain. i read an article stating that we're the most vain men in asia, straight or gay.

seems to make sense.

white noise

2011-05-09T14:12:00.000+08:00

trying on a new look, maybe it will help clear my head of certain things.

found myself in contemplation last night, something i haven't done in a long while. as the winds howled while they tore through tattered roofs and punctured walls in my neighborhood, i found myself lying half awake, half asleep, wondering why my conscience wasn't making the same ruckus.

it's not often you find people who "stress" over having a silent conscience, certainly it cannot be a bad thing not having an incessant nagging troubling you from with. however, like with a lot of things i have learned in my short existence, there are certain things, even unpleasant ones, that i cannot live without; a handkerchief in my pocket, a street atlas, bad smelling chinese medicine, and a conscience that would bother you from time to time. i am not necessarily saying that i am bothered with the fact that i have a silent conscience, rather, what really worries me is that there is a huge difference between a quiet conscience and a silent one... for only the dead truly remain silent you see.

no connection

2011-04-28T17:17:00.000+08:00

kuya and i were at the powerplant mall last weekend when i chanced upon this designer/ stylist as he got on the escalator. i pointed him to my kuya and commented "he seems like a very sad and lonely man". kuya wondered why i had that opinion of the designer since, obviously, i didn't really know him personally. i said i follow his Twitter and more often than not, his tweets would always carry a rather melancholic undertone... that and he shops like there's no tomorrow. the latter statement was my kuya's light bulb moment as he quickly interjects that the designer might be trying to fill up the void he feels with all that shopping. i certainly hope my speculations are untrue.

while working out at the gym this morning, just like how strange things just kind of POP into my head, i suddenly found myself thinking of a friend and his relationships. odd thing about me, i unconsciously gather information on the people i meet and eventually find myself noticing patterns in their behavior. this friend was not an exception. despite how it may be that his carries himself with much confidence, even to an authoritative degree, i cant help but feel that this air that he carries feels "brittle", for lack of a better term. like if i were any meaner and malicious, i could easily tear him down. i also could not help but feel like whenever i am around him, even if i am not directly interacting with him, that i find his presence quite draining, almost as if my energy diffuses towards him. i don't know if its just me (which could probably be just that) or i should just trust my gut.

i recall a portion of my morning reading this morning while, well, reading. it was about the difference between salvation and redemption. i often mix the two and interchange them, though there really isnt anything wrong with doing so since both were accomplished by Christ when He died on the cross, it needs to be said tho that there is a difference between the two, their main difference is the point from which we were saved and redeemed from. when man fell and sin entered into creation, when Satan usurped us and frustrated God's plan for us, we became captives. because we we stolen away, God, through Christ, had to save us back unto Him, save us back from our sins, Sin, the world, Satan and of death, which He did when He was crucified and died, as He died for all. His death, as the unique death, as the unique sacrificial lamb, also redeemed us. He paid the highest price to buy us back because according the the righteousness of God and according to the law, we all who have sinned are all destined to die. Christ's death and the shedding of His blood satisfied the highest requirement of the law, thereby redeeming us all back unto God. Now, because of that all-accomplishing death, we are saved from sin, Satan, the world and death, and have now the right to be reconciled back to God.

i thought of this portion as i pondered on my feelings, of feeling unworthy, of feeling condemned, of feeling lost. i then recalled this part, that i have been saved from all that weighs me down and that all had been dealt with already for me. more than that, i had also been purchased, bought, redeemed with the blood of my God, of which, i too am liberated from the judgment of the law. i have no excuse to feel negative, nor depressed, nor weak, for God had done everything already for me.

PUCHA!

2011-04-28T13:45:00.001+08:00

my blog doesnt exist DAW!!!!??? lecheng google yan. actually... LECHE tong araw na to!

in the sauna

2011-04-21T16:20:00.002+08:00

it can be rather exhausting, sitting in a room filled with strangers, trying to mind your own business, but really, honestly, all you can think about is everyone one else around you. you try your best not to fidget, not to move suspiciously nor cause any undue attention to your person since, to do so would be counter-productive, counter-productive to this game you had begun to play, to be this pretend-person, this unreal imaginary figure, who seemed to be completely detached from his present surroundings, but in truth, he is so immersed in it, it almost feels like he's drowning.

you hold your chin level, almost parallel to the wooden floor. this was your default, nonchalant position. you keep your head erect, your shoulders low, your arms loose as you do not want to look intimidating despite your bulky frame. you try to keep your form looking relaxed, even if your entire body is ready to jump at the slightest nudge. you control your breathing, almost to a maniacal degree. one breath every 2 seconds, you exhale with mouth agape. you toy with your ankle, and twist it around like drawing small circles in the air, a way to distract, you thought, to keep people's attention away from the nervousness that is beginning to show on your face, but at the same time, to draw attention to yourself, like winding back the line to the spool, the hook, you sense, is now in place.

it starts from the feet, from the tensing of the ligaments of the toes, their force marked on the thin skin that fails to hide them. it leads up to the leg, to the flushed calves and the engorged shin, now pink with blood, beads of sweat outlining the sharp bone that cuts through its length. it continues on to the muscular thighs, to thin valleys and fine troughs that score its surface like ripples of ungodly enchantment. you feel the slow crescendo of your heart, pulsing to an audible beat. it throbs in your head, on your neck, through your chest, down your gut, lower, deeper, harder, stronger. the hips then tighten. the torso reacts. you feigned a spasm and shift your position. and just like that, you cut the line and let the catch go.

good game.

reckoning

2011-04-11T10:48:00.000+08:00

it's like sitting on a lone chair,
while sitting in a large empty room,
facing a towering dormer window,
facing east towards the harsh,
bleaching rays of the warm,
warm summer sun.

you sit there frozen,

fingers tightly gripping your seat,

as if a wrecking ball is set off on full swing,

it's weighted momentum sent crashing towards you.

you stare outside, not daring to blink,

your eyes stinging, by the glare,

by the arid room air,

as you try to betray your innermost whims,

for survival, for safety,

and force yourself to see past beyond the glistening window pane,

past the shine,

past the lush valley that spans in between,

towards the distance to where the unknown rest,

ominous, evil, dangerous, painful unknown,

hiding in the shroud of the golden rays of the warm, summer sun.

the cold cannot protect you.
the quiet cannot save you,
and the slow crescendo of noise from you past
begin to fill your hollow head with echoes and whispers and unperceivable horrors.
like galloping horses they approach
and your tight, tight grip forces you
not to run away.
they are coming, you see them
they are coming, you scream

and the towering window begins to fold before you

it bends and it bows, like that of a beautiful memory

large eyes blinking, slowly shutting to the brightness outside

the shadow of the light, now approaching from above

and as the light succumb to the night

as the sun becomes veiled from sight

the quiet begins to prevail again

the voices, the screaming, the wails, the clamor

begin to fade again to the hushed stillnesss

of the emptiness of the room you are in.

the temperature drops

your grip relaxes

your breathing slows

and your shoulders fall

it is over, finally.

you had buried everything all over again.

what's love got to do with it?

2011-03-31T17:31:00.000+08:00

kuya and i had a little chat while on the drive to his friend's wedding reception. while on the drive, i asked him about this "thing" my mom had brought up that morning, about another suitor taking interest in the girl he was showing intentions for. though i didn't really want to blow things out of proportion, i guess, the queen in me just needed some tension and drama, i nudged the idea that this means competition for my kuya, and indirectly, i was feeling the need to wage war for some reason. kuya, being the level-headed specimen that he always is, could not be bothered by my calls to arms, or he looked like he couldn't be.

as i eventually calmed down and the discussion progressed, i learned that now that both of us are older, my kuya and i are starting to think more and more alike, a fact that i greatly welcomed since i always thought my kuya to be one of the smartest people i know. when asked on the issue of love, he and i seemed to be on the same page, that is, love is not a feeling, but really a decision. we choose the people we want to be with, not just because of a feeling, but because we believe we can build a life with that person. feelings are too superficial, and do not anchor itself deep enough to create stable relationships. it sounds cold, it sounds frigid even, most especially to those who swear that romance is the way to go. true, i think romance should be present, but what if romance dies and people start pondering on the the idea that since they fell in love, that maybe they have fallen out of love? kuya said such ideas to be ridiculous. love is not passive that you just fall in and out of, love is an action and is an active word. it requires decision and commitment, and not just relying on the whims of erratic emotions.

i was quiet now, ruminating on his words, now a small smile forming on my face. it got me thinking of irog, again a slight recalibration on my part, a re-reminder as to why i am here with him in the first place, why i decided on him after just a few dates, why, even with our differences and personal unlovely details, those don't seem to matter so much since thankfully, love is a decision, and five months running, i'm still sticking to my decision.

the fraying

2011-03-28T13:47:00.000+08:00

it was that lady crossing the street, unmindful of my car's speed and my blaring horn scolding her for jaywalking and crossing into my line of way, not even mentioning that she had her kid in tow, her child shielding her grossly rotund body in the case i decide to run her over and maybe rid this world of one more idiot, not much harm done since it seems, we have in abundance of them.

it was that cop that pulled me over while i was driving along EDSA, for violating some traffic rule stating that if one is on the U-turn lane and fails to take a turn, then pull the son-of-a-bitch over. of course he fails to notice that i would be on the right lane, if only he'd do his job and bust the maniacal manner of driving the buses take, as well as the crisscrossing motorcyclists who ride as if playing "patintero" with death. of course he threatens to fine me a ridiculous amount of money for the most minor of offenses. of course he was extorting me for snack-money.

it was the jeepney driver who would stop in the middle of the street, completely obstructing traffic, just so he could take his time to drink his bottle of water, while waiting, hoping that some passenger would decide to ride in his vehicle. never mind the incessant clamor of motorists, now piling up behind him slowly growing livid as to why he was not moving.

it was the kid who played outside our house, sprawled on our driveway, engrossed in his precursor-to-gambling game, expletives building much of his vocabulary, since his mother, equally engrossed in her game of bingo, sitting a few feet behind him, communicates with him the same way.

it was that guy who would bum across our house the entire day, smoking, drinking, playing his tapes of heavy-metal music, guns 'n roses, metallica, parokya ni edgar, every morning. he sits in front of the speakers while they bombard his probably damaged eardrums, reading the paper or maybe, eating off the floor, food provided by his elderly in-laws who day in and day out work selling fruits at divisoria.

it was seeing that picture in the papers about how so many people were rallying to oppose the Rh bill. a movement headed by many empowered and self-righteous religious groups since they believe the bill will corrupt the morals of the people. of course it's debatable what morals they are trying to protect, more so, if they really are even the right people to protect them.

it was seeing the local shows we have on TV and realizing how i miss my sesame street.

it was seeing the kind of people who run the country, a band of (in no particular order) thieves, murderers, cowards, idiots, criminals, lunatics, geriatrics, celebrities, cronies.

it was hearing and reading about the 50 Japanese workers who decided to stay behind.

i told my mom, while on the drive home from lunch, after pondering all of these things.... that i do not want to grow old fighting to survive these things, that it's time we begin to considering leaving now. she, after being so resistant all these years, for the first time, agreed.

jenga

2011-03-26T15:36:00.000+08:00

a soup of words,

is as best as how i

could describe them.

semi-formed poems,

thoughts, feelings, all

swimming in my head,

bumping, waiting, waiting

for the right sentences

to form, as if the words

try to set themselves onto

these pre-formed molds,

a kind of fixed measure

for what my brain sees as

perfect and beautiful.

sentences merging together

to make paragraph blocks,

an architecture of words,

building, forming shapes,

forms, buildings, structures

that inspire, intrigue and awe,

spires, towers, and cathedrals

that aspire to reach heaven.

one on top of the other

they pile, stacking till ever

so high, so high until i have

none more to say,

none more to write,

think or do.

my stores are depleted,

my ideas all

exhausted

either that or

when my thoughts

fail me and everything

just comes

crashing

down.

hiatus is OBER!

2011-03-23T10:04:00.000+08:00

the past month and three quarters had been toxic to say the least. so toxic that my body had no other recourse but to bog down and allow me to get sick, thinking that would cause me to slow down long enough for it to recoup. unfortunately for it, my brain, stubborn as it has already been defined, chose to completely ignore the fact that i was already running a fever, my innards are refusing to function what is medically normal, i was loosing sleep, eating uncontrollably, developing the worst stress-induced eczema flare-ups, and other maladies i don't even want to mention. indeed, slowing down and taking a break seemed like the only option i cannot take as i trudged on, till today, to finish everything i had gotten my eager hands on. day-job where work seems endless, freelance design duties that requires utmost vigilance, articles with deadlines to meet, family duties, boyfriend duties, friends, Romans, COUNTRYMEN!!!!!

the blog was the first to suffer. i had wanted to write for many an occasion already but just as i was supposed to hit the first letter, something more urgent came up. either it was to conserve the words in my head before i hemorrhage them all onto my two articles, or i save up on much needed energy to survive the very long day ahead, i had to give up writing and ranting on this blog for a while since, well, it was the least of my priorities at those times (sorry blog).just when things started to feel like, well, its time to end this journal of mine because life is now getting in the way, my stubborn brain again exercises its "stubbornaity" and churns out THIS post, just to end the inertia of inactivity and rantlessness.... as if the world really needs more ranting.

so what is there now to write about? besides work, that is? sex? never really on this blog, though i have to say, i have been tempted to do so many times, then decided against it. i'm not that desperate for attention. also, nothing much to write from the home front either.

wait.... sorry.... a supplier called. wait, what was i talking about again? sex? what about sex?

now i lost my train of thought. LECHE.

earthen vessels

2011-02-28T22:44:00.000+08:00

i closed my eyes to see it more clearly. i closed my eyes to make things disappear, maybe robbing myself of other stimulations, concentrating the focus even more to that singular point wherein everything mattered and all things else became unimportant. it was the heart beat. it was the pulse throbbing in my jaw, my shoulder, my throat, in my head. it was being lost in the thick darkness of not seeing and yet seeing splashes of acid yellow and toxic green, of bubbles floating about as my eyes saccaded under my eyelids, my brain hallucinating now. it was my muscles slowly growing limp, its tonicity wasting, my body eventually slacking, visualizing atrophy. it was hearing that honest speaking again, as i surrendered myself, defenseless, and had finally allowed the world to take down veils and walls and layers of thick covering, revealing my frail nakedness, exposing my thin, sullen skin, barely clinging onto my small brittle bones, holding on to keep my broken, broken soul.

my triumvirate

2011-02-26T14:17:00.000+08:00

february 25, 2011

it was secretly supposed to be just about Dodong, but not too long after he came out to greet the hungry eyes and fantasies of the audience did things quickly turn into something else.

he must have been the personification of the ideal, the projection of the secret wishes and hopes of perfect, blissful existence that many members of the audience that night had. it was, in a way, fun to wish that ideal for myself as well. so i laughed, i smiled, i smirked in my glee, tickled by the prospects and the scenarios this bit of fiction is creating in my brain, but the joy was hollow. none of it felt real. none of the feeling lasted.

there was another production playing that night and despite the lights, the effects, the loudness of the music and the pathetic audio of the performance happening in front of me, my attention was elsewhere.something far more interesting, intriguing, captivating, was happening and it took my undivided attention. unfortunately though, this show, too, gave me no joy.

peeling an orange

2011-02-24T17:49:00.000+08:00

not a lot of people would suggest peeling an orange. more often than not, they would prefer having or serving oranges sliced, neatly cut into perfect wedges, shaped just right to fit in their mouths and give them a seamless, orange-peel smile. but i like peeling my orange. i always have. it may be messier than, say, peeling a tangerine, but i peel them nonetheless. it's all about connecting with my food, something slicing with a knife can never seem to provide. i like how my fingers would run over an orange's dimpled skin, searching for that perfect spot where i can dig my thumb in. i like how my thumb, big and blunt as it is, would carefully wedge itself under the thick skin, easing away the white, fibrous flesh, unraveling the juicy underlying meat. i like how the meat would feel, how the temperature changes from the warmth of the outside air to the cold interior of the fruit's core. i love how, as my fingers manage its way around undressing the fruit, that it sprays me with a citrus bouquet, its juices running down into my scooped palm.

not a lot of people would prefer peeling an orange. they find it messy and too cumbersome as opposed to, say, slicing it with a knife. but as i eat the succulent portions of the fruit i had so lovingly peeled, and smell the sweet scent it had left on my sticky fingers as they come near my mouth, i think about those people who like having their oranges perfectly sliced and wonder, if only they knew what i know, then maybe their experiences wouldn't just be about a neat, orange-peel smile.

Philippians 4: 10 to 13

2011-02-15T11:19:00.000+08:00

Paul, the apostle, once said...

10 But I ^arejoiced in the Lord greatly because now at length you have caused your thinking for me to ¹blossom anew; for which matter you had indeed taken thought, but lacked opportunity.

11 Not that I speak according to ^alack, for I have learned, in whatever circumstances I am, to be ¹^bcontent.

12 I know also how to be ¹abased, and I know how to ²abound; ³in everything and in all things ⁴I have learned the secret both to be ⁵filled and to ^ahunger, both to ⁶abound and to ⁷^black.

13 I am able to do all things ¹in Him who ²^aempowers me.

i pray earnestly to also learn how to rejoice in my lack, in my insufficiency, in my weakness, in my failures, in my defeats. i hope that in so doing, i too, if my Lord wills it, will be able to experience in the most practical sense how it is to be filled, to be sustained, to be strengthened, to be uplifted, to be made victorious by the unlimited, inexhaustible, omnipotent God that made His dwelling in me.

a curious incident in the evening while in the bus on the way back to manila

2011-02-14T16:57:00.000+08:00

i was seated on the second row from the back. it was tight and uncomfortable. the bus was new but the spaces between seats was cramped. i didnt understand why they had to make the spaces smaller. i don't think shorter people would prefer newer buses while the taller ones go for the older. despite the discomfort, the bus was at least clean and devoid of any moldy smell. i disliked moldy smells. it reminds me of decaying matter under my butt, probably eating away onto my flesh on some microscopic level. thankfully, i was too tired to be bothered. not long after i sat in my seat, i soon found myself dozing in and out of sleep. everytime my eyes would open, i would be in another part of pangasinan.

maybe it did not attract short people, but the new bus attracted many passengers since we kept stopping at almost every few meters the bus would move. this was my first time to be in a bus wherein all the seats became packed in just a span of a few minutes, none of the passengers, i found, were short enough to fit comfortably in the spaces provided between rows. i did however notice the guy sitting in front of me. it wasnt hard not too since he was maybe one of the best dressed in the bus. i took special notice of him since he got up to wave at his friends before the bus departed from the station, and because he sat uncomfortable close in front of me, just because the seat rows were close to each other. i dozed off soon after again.

i woke up a few minutes later since i felt i fell asleep with my mouth slightly agape. i felt embarrassed because it is a funny sight to sleep with your mouth open. i was also afraid i might drool. i had a friend who drooled. it was not very funny, especially if he drooled on you, his saliva probably feeding further the mold already feeding on your flesh from the seats. i also woke up because i felt more cramped than before, surprised that it was even possible despite the sardine-line condition of the bus. the guy seated in front of me had reclined his back, far enough that i could see his head and count his hair and surmise how cheap his greasy hair wax was. i had my bag on my lap and it was the only thing that was keeping him from further reclining and squash my balls. i was slightly irritated, but again, maybe it was the sleepiness, decided not to react. he tried to further recline his seat, but my bag was too bulky to give in. he took a glance back at me, i stared back at him. he did not stay long with my eye contact. i fell asleep again.

when i woke up much later, it was already becoming dusk outside and my seatmate, i found had already alighted from the bus. quickly moved to that seat and was thus able to stretch my cramped legs a bit. the guy seated in front of me also now could recline his seat further, to which he did. he looked at me again, this time, almost inquisitively. i looked back and thought, maybe hes never seen a chinese guy before. it's a possibility. i once met an african zulu who seriously thought i could do karate because of what he saw in the movies. i told him i cant, because karate is japanese while i am chinese. the guy kept glancing back at me many more times after that, until, i guess after my brain started to function properly, that i realized, this guy was checking me out. it also helped that i saw him groping himself while looking at me. like with all things related to the improper and obscene, i often go into a cold, frigid blank, a severe state of indifference. he could have moaned and groaned and all i would be able to do was stare at him blankly and blink... which i did. he tried to get me aroused i think by fidgeting in his seat and showing that he's touching himself but all that i could think of was how uncomfortable it must be for you to slide up and down the bus' seat. like all public buses, the seats were laminated in plastic wherein shear pressure was your main enemy, especially in long trips. not only did he looked uncomfortable and raunchy, i could also imagine the friction burns he could be inducing to himself from constantly rubbing his unnecessarily tight jeans. he was not the slimmest of subjects since i could see a chunk of his flesh pressing against his also unnecessarily tight shirt. probably realizing he was not getting anything from me, he turned around and faced the other way. thus ended his show, thus also ended my frigid spell. i then fell asleep again.

when i woke up, his seat was now up and it seems he found for himself a new point of interest... the guy seated in front of him. i have to say, he is awfully persistent, more so, i found it amusing how coincidental it was that you have three guys, seated one row after another, all of which were gay. there was some transaction happening between the two of them, exchanged thru stares and some other body language. not long later, the guy moved beside to the seat in front of him and thats when things started to REALLY happen.

i was reporting to Irog blow by blow accounts of what i was seeing since it does not take a genius to interpret sucking sounds, head disappearing behind seatbacks, unusual vibrations and the faint, but still audible escape of a moan. i didnt understand why again i was not offended with what was happening, maybe again because i found it utterly laughable what i was witnessing. three rounds later and the two of them were done. i heard whisperings and kissings and the other person even going further of taking a picture of the two of them hugging together with his blackberry. it seems that they are now in a relationship. i guess some people just dont like wasting time. the new guy eventually had to go since we arrived at his stop. he had an almost spud-like shaped face and head, not really helped by his crew-cut hair and his geeky glasses. he was taller than the other guy, longer limb but a doughy torso. he gave an ok sign to his boy who was left behind and disappeared as he got down. the guy who sat in front of me never looked back at where i was, all the way until we got to the station.

this is my second time to be a voyeur.

im heading back to the province again this weekend.

i dont think there is anything charming with a third time.

the last nightmare

2011-01-30T08:17:00.000+08:00

the memory of it is quickly fading, blame the efficient process of my over-protective consciousness. the emotions caused by it, however, remains. i feel bothered; irritated; and to a certain degree, angry. not really the emotions one would feel when you wake up from a nightmare.

i just had a nightmare not too long ago, one that i can still remember bits and pieces of, that it. strange about this particular unpleasant dream was, all i could remember about was the argument i was having with Irog. i remember tempers flaring, his and mine, and how it was strong enough to jolt me to wake up, fully lucid, despite how late it was already that i went to sleep the night before. i remember looking up into the ceiling, trying to control my breathing, my heart racing from rage. my head started to spin as i felt utterly bothered that i could be that mad, in a dream, against the person who has been giving me so much love this past 3 months. what bothered me even more was that, despite the efforts in dismissing the nightmare, my consciousness was not that willing to let go of it yet. there was nothing aberrant, nothing strange, nothing off about it. it felt almost like deja vu, or even a forgotten memory. processing it kept me awake long enough that when i finally fell asleep, my dream afterward was me having a long, wordy discussion with, i would presume myself since i dont recall any other character being there. it was like a british talk show, only i was walking around in this dark room, ruminating on my thoughts, fellowshipping with some other presence. it wasnt as charged as the nightmare and i remember i was calmer, more objective, even more serious. that dream ended finally, i believe, when my subconsciousness had it's vent. i woke up later feeling better, but still a tinge bothered and slightly irritated for what had happened....

all because, i honestly believe, i went to sleep close to BURSTING from my shabu-shabu dinner at a good friend's home. BEHOLD!!!!! our spread! none stop flow of every assortment of meatball, veggies and paper-thin slices of beef and pork, simmering in a hotpot, filled with a broth painstakingly made from pork bones, cooking over a coal stove for 3 long hours.... extracting its flavors and aromas. then, after you draw the cooked morsels from the soup, you dunk it into an intoxicating sauce made from garlic, egg, satay, soy sauce and almond butter before they inevitably end up in a welcoming mouth. o the joy and oh, the nightmares this feast of gluttony will bring, INDEED!

last night in the car

2011-01-21T21:40:00.000+08:00

the realization dawned on me as you ran your fingers, rather awkwardly, through my hair. i have to admit, i initially found it rather strange since it felt like you were petting an animal more than stroking the head of your lover. you continued, unmindful of my growing reaction. it was a discomforting feeling, how your fingers seemingly struggled through my strands, managing their way with some friction through my waxed hair. you combed them with your fingers, pulling them down, flattening them towards you, towards where you sat, as if raking my mind. i eventually blurted out, "thank goodness you're not my stylist!", words of which halted your stroking as now, you pondered on what it was that i meant. it was a joke that fell flat on its own. it feel flat the moment i said it, as, now that i think of it, all jokes that don't begin as jokes always do. my feelings of discomfort, my ideas of perfection, this picture in my head and how the moment that we were having did not fit in it was the cause... because, it was a picture only i alone drew. a picture i drew for myself, without you. a picture only i saw from mine eyes, from my vantage point and mine alone. a picture whose sole focus was how perfect the world was if i had things done... my way.

a world, i realized, you had no part in.

hence, your fingers felt awkward as you ran them through my hair. your petting felt like you were stroking an animal, more than your lover. you struggled. you were not gentle. you felt unrefined, and thus, did not conform to perfection.

but there lies the great error, and here also began the wondrous mercy.

i saw you again. i saw you again in your purity of intention. how your every action stems from love and love alone. how you step out and go out of your way to express your love, and how i have forgotten that this was one of the reasons why i fell in love with you. your beauty, your uniqueness does not stem out of outward polish, nor of great poise, nor of impeccable demeanor. your beauty comes out of your fragility, your innocence, your simplicity. you are like fresh dew after a harrowing night, like a cool breeze to break the heat.

we speak a different language, you and i. while i grew, accustomed to a world obsessed with outward appearances and control, you however speak a language far more relaxed and sincere, and how i now look forward to hearing you, and if you would be patient enough, learn how to speak your language as well.

all of this, i realized, just because you messed up my hair.

i love you.

happy me (pardon the sarcasm)

2011-01-19T21:41:00.000+08:00

it must be that time again when, maybe exacerbated by a day's worth of fatigue, that my serotonin levels drop to a week's low, leaving me again in state of, though despair is too strong of a word, well, maybe just persistent gloom. breathing is unexciting, food becomes bland, and things that often stimulate me now find themselves struggle to even make me take notice. though i am writing about it, i am not keen to agree that i am wallowing. just merely acknowledging it, and stating a fact. i have learned that i do have moments like this, and no, it will not be the death of me, nor would it lead me to ponder on the liberating feeling of how having a blade slice through my pulse points finally rid me of these very tiresome emotional oscillations. thankfully so, more than my penchant for drama, i have a stubborn will and, a irrational sense of vanity since, suicide is such an ugly way to die. so messy. then again, there's the pill. but then again... how unoriginal.

i am not typing feverishly on my slowly draining laptop, watching tweets pop up on my screen, reminding me of how other people's lives carry on, unmindful of mine. i used to have this notion that i was the center of the world, that i was the unique consciousness, that apart from me, nothing else exists, and when i expire, everything disappears with me. it was an interesting theory i have to say. more than a extreme case of egomania, it was more of me playing with the perception of reality. what if, i wondered back then, if i, like truman in the truman show, was the star and the entire world's activities were orchestrated around me. of course, this idea is simply too preposterous, now that i think of it, but i do miss that part of me, that part who conjured up this stupid notion in the first place. i miss him. his crazy ways. his out-of-the-box ideas, and his almost limitless curiosity of the world. it was an insatiable appetite for knowing and seeking. i dont see him so often anymore. i guess, when you reach a point in you life wherein you are content with knowing everything, even if you really know nothing, then you unknowingly begin to die.

this is my type of suicide.

i will sleep this off. tomorrow, will be another day.

tinapa fried rice

2011-01-18T21:31:00.000+08:00

it was last night's dinner's fault. it really was.

mom was wondering who brought the tinapa since it seemed no one could recall who it was from. it wasn't the usual smoked bangus that we often would have. this fish wasn't as salty, however, what it lacked in taste, it made up in flavor. it smelled utterly divine. the smokey aroma was neither too weak, nor too pungent (the latter is often the case with bangus), and the fish, the outer crust was toasted golden while the meat inside flaked to touch. the skin was a crispy amber and the fat... holy. it no longer needs to be said, that fish disappeared in almost an instant as even my dad, who often dismisses eating anything filipino, could not resist. i think he had the most actually.

i was in my usual lazy-eating mode and was picking on what was left of the fish, having my fill even with the burnt, caramelized skin when my mom asked what i wanted to have for my lunch tomorrow. ever since working for my uncle, i always brought lunch to work and the only instruction to them was lunch was always veggies. so for the past two years, that was all i ate. however, while i was licking off the wondrous tinapa juices off my oily fingers, i found myself say... i will make tinapa fried rice tomorrow! mom didn't immediately understand what i said, so i repeated myself. I WILL HAVE TINAPA FRIED RICE TOMORROW.... and I WILL COOK IT MYSELF :)

i immediately went to the fridge to rummage for ingredients. to my dismay, all we had was garlic and onions. not enough for the recipe slowly forming in my brain. it was ok, i thought. one day to prepare was not too long of a wait. a grin slowly formed on my face. it was dubai all over again, this gleeful feeling i was having when i KNEW what i was going to cook was going to be good. i listed down the ingredients to buy and gave it to our help. by this time tomorrow, my tinapa fried rice will be born....

(the following night... which is, just a few hours ago)

so i finally made my tinapa fried rice... well, most of it. i only got to prepare the first part since "plating" will come tomorrow in preparation for lunch. i first had the tinapa re-fried. since it wasn't really salty enough, i had to salt it a bit more just to help the flavors give taste to the oil. after frying the fish, i drained a bit of the oil and added in the garlic and the onions. i love the smell of frying garlic. so aromatic. as the garlic slowly turned golden and the onions, translucent, in goes the brown rice. i decided to use brown rice for the rustic texture and flavor it has, almost like grilled corn. i then started to stir the rice frantically since my wok was in high heat. i wanted to evaporate as much moisture as i could so that the tinapa-flavored oil would be able to coat all the grains evenly. as the rice slowly toasted and the GLORIOUS smell of the tinapa oil fill the kitchen, in goes the flaked tinapa meat. little by little, i added the meat in, just so they dont get all mashed up as i mixed the rice. salt, pepper and finally, the burnt bangus skin. i continued to stir the rice at high heat, flipping it from the bottom to keep in from burning, and fluffing it to further help in its drying. the popping sounds were my cue that my rice was now beautifully toasted. the meat was also now crispy. the fish fat had melted into the rice and now gave it the most divine taste.

tomorrow, i will plate it with salted egg, diced tomatoes and scallions.... drizzled with chili vinegar from RL Lapids chicharon.....

i think i am going to die...... smiling :D

i'm in love

2011-01-17T22:26:00.000+08:00

i have a secret to tell.... i'm in love... and her name is design. i'm so in love with her, it kills me that i cannot honor her with beautiful creations. it seem everything i churn out lately is a pile of crap. yes, crap, and what eats me even more is that i charge people of crappy work, hoping that they wont realize how that they actually are paying for crappy work.

nothing is more frustrating. i dont really consider myself as an artist, but my approach to design is like that of a scientist. probably why i dont feel so attached to my work as much, as long as it serves a purpose and it's logical. design for me serves a function that is more than just something pretty. maybe this would explain why architecture appeals to me, since structure is based on physical laws unlike interior design wherein most is really reliant on subjective taste. ive been practicing for years now, and despite how i LOVE full, maximalist, classical, eclectic, sensual interiors, whenever i design, all, and i do mean ALL my works are minimalist, bordering in brutalist, simple and bare. i don't understand why, to be honest. all i can say is blank is beautiful. sparse is spectacular, and empty is em-pressive (nye!)

either way, design is love, and this intoxication is driving me crazy!!!!

musings of a flatlining brain

2011-01-15T15:06:00.000+08:00

ian wright said it best, that the curious would always have stories to tell. i was curious once, very curious indeed, and true enough, i had something to say about almost everything. that, however, was before.

i am rather afraid to say it, but nothing seems to excite me anymore these days. nothing enticing, nothing stimulating. everything, it feels, is lost in a state of utter blah. its almost as if i took a rather communist view point onto everything, where everything is equally interesting and thus, nothing anymore is.

maybe i've gotten too used to my surroundings, maybe ive seen everything that is there to see. maybe ive been bombarded by so much already that i'm numbed to the bone. maybe i'm just turning into a really, really boring guy.

my brain feels like mush right now, a product of fatigue, both physical and mental, and maybe lack of sleep as well. constructing sentences is become more laborious, more so having full intelligent conversations. speaking of full conversations, my beloved and i were sharing a moment over cups of coffee, as well as decadent portions of glorious cake (i just love cake). i love moments like this, where we are lost in each other's attention, deeply focused on each others voices, and just bonding.

on other less interesting notes, i have now a stupid reason as to explain my recent episodes of bitchiness... i'm now a leo, and no longer a virgo. funny no? explains a bit why im short fused and a bit more vocal than normal. can't say im not adjusting to this sudden bursts of bluntness, but to be quite honest, i don't mind it at all. maybe learning to be more direct is the lesson to learn this 2011. it certainly would help me save on time.

the puzzle

2011-01-12T21:54:00.001+08:00

dahil maraming lumpo sa mundo, at maraming tingin sa mga nakakapaglakad ng matuwid-tiwid, saklay. di lang nila taimtim na pinapansin na ang matuwid-tuwid ay di pa ring ganap na tuwid, at ang mga inaakala nilang mga saklay ay umiika-ika rin.

i've been slowly putting in the pieces, parts taken from different sources, from the looks of people to the energies they emit to my own personal experiences. the picture is not yet full, and i don't think it will ever, but that doesn't mean it doesn't tell me a story, and what a story it is.

i'm building a multifaceted puzzle, bound together by people whose paths seemed to have intertwined in an interesting web. you strummed them all, it seems. some lightly, the vibrations having quickly dissipated. some harder, to the point that their strings fail and they fall. it is highly interesting to see how all these people's stories interlocked because of you. it almost feels as if you created them, their stories sprung out from the genius of your great handiwork... or maybe, their hopes and their dreams and their wishes were the ones that created you, their underlying need for acceptance and guidance fueled you and your identity.

the gaps will never be filled. there really is no point for it, but a pattern emerges still. wise and gifted as some would say that you are (and i don't see any reason why i should not agree with the truth), i cannot help but feel that you will never be someone i will aspire to become. maybe this would explain why the gaps exists, why the picture is never complete, why the puzzle will always remain unfinished. makes me now wonder why i hold on to putting things together still.

barefoot running

2011-01-07T11:40:00.001+08:00

i first caught wind of barefoot running a little over two years ago from my cousin. she used to run marathons as well and commented how some runners, due to monetary reasons run barefoot. though it was rather a saddening thought for her, i however found the idea quite fascinating really, especially since, living in ghettosville, seeing people run around barefoot is not that uncommon.

i chanced upon my first barefoot runner when i ran my first marathon. i distinctly recall taking a second glance at what i saw, since, you really just have to! he was a middle-aged man running a 10K. i was trailing behind him, running the 5K distance and saw from afar, a pair of surprisingly pale and clean soles. i have to admit, i was taken aback with what i saw at first. then i recalled what my cousin said and poverty was the thought that stuck to me, never mind that his soles looked pristine and that he was running faster than the rest of the pack.

fast forward to last year. i had just finished running the Singapore Marathon and was at the airport waiting for my flight back home. while killing time, i usually loiter at the bookstore, hoping to find something to spend my remaining foreign currency on. i saw this Men's Health book and upon perusing its contents, decided that it was well worth the SG$19. inside was a regimen on anaerobic training, something that, at that time, i was interested in. there was however also an article about this french man named Erwan Le Corre, founder and chief proponent of MovNat. the premise of his practice was achieving a new level of fitness by changing one's lifestyle by going back to how we used to live before we became "modern". his minimalist approach went beyond simply just going back to basics, he went WAY back, coining the term "Paleo Man", or something to that effect. i have to admit, it sounded kinda crazy when you first read it, but again, living in ghettosville and near the pier where people cant really afford gym membership made me reconsider erwan's "insanity". where i live, people are lean and cut, some even buff. what they do? they work in the textile warehouses or are fruit vendors, or in the rice dealers. they haul, lift, sort, carry, throw, drag, all these produce and basically, get the best workout than any gym can provide.... exactly what erwan's training program entails.... minus the tree climbing and free diving courses, of course. o yeah, he also runs barefoot.

so.... we fast forward further to the more recent present. barefoot running seems to be growing popularity now in the local running community. by this time, i had been training for brief periods in my vibrams FF, my oddest pair of footware. i had been reading a lot about the benefits of barefoot running and how it actually strengthens your legs and feet, and even prolong your running career. now, i really can't say i plan to make running a career, but strengthening my legs, as well as preventing future injuries were, as barefoot running claim to achieve, were things i was eager to look in to. so far, besides the strange stares i would get when running around the block, to loud comments about how stupid i looked, i can say that barefoot running, so far, has been truthful to its promise. my legs do feel stronger, sans the blisters and post-running soreness, but that really is expected from a beginner. my ankle injury still bother me but i'm hoping in time, that too will go away.

i'm hoping to run my first full marathon barefoot, or at least in vibrams by the end of the year, either in singapore or next year in HK. i'm also hoping i could incorporate some of erwan's training regimen to my own, well, since gym is getting really old and boring now and that i want to look like these guys as well....

image taken from http://movnat.com/

jusko.... kung magbubuhat lang ako ng tela at sako ng bigas at maglalako ng prutas sa divisoria, then GOW!!! ahahahaha. erwan is the tallest, eric bana-looking chap in the back row. diba? PWEDE!!!! (pero masgusto ko yung nasa kanang dulo. nyahahaha!)

ehem... sorry. nalurkey lang ako. ONG LILINOMNOM kasi, and i'm fasting rin today... hehehehe

bitchesa moment number one for 2011

2011-01-06T09:39:00.000+08:00

i'm making my new year's resolutions as i go. besides making an effort to be more mindful of what i say, i will, however, also make an effort to say things now, because they have to be said... and here is one of those things...

mader mcvie pointed it out, and rather than comment on his post, i'd rather rant in mine... well, RANT is such a negative word.

"life is unfair." on the contrary "life is very much fair. those who can't seem to see that are just too self absorbed or myopic... because stupid is such a negative word." and i believe this to be an absolute truth. i have had my fair share of misfortunes come about me. so many that i believe that it had affected my general view of how my life rolls, in which case was down in a rather steep hill. that view however was back then, back when it was far easier, and even, shall i say, empowering to feel justified in my misery. how could life be so unfair, i thought, that i was stuck and others were not? that i was unhappy, while others were not.

mcvie said it aptly, it really boils down to choice. in this case, a choice of perspective, the entire "half-empty, half-full" cliche. that's one way of seeing it. here's another way, life is really fair. life is fair, as joy can be fleeting, so can sorrow. as misery can be deliberating, love and passion, empowering. light and night, darkness and day. intelligence and... well, that other negative word. see, balanced and fair.

in brief

2011-01-05T17:58:00.000+08:00

the drive to makati was surprising short that evening. i had expected the usual rush hour traffic to greet me on certain parts of my route, but it seemed that the usual hoard of commuters and crazy drivers were still on their holiday hiatus. good for me, i thought. i would reach my destination with enough time to spare to actually, decompress.

bruno's at greenbelt was not as full at the one in rockwell. kuya said that people often get their haircut during the first days of the year, since, its supposed to bring them luck... or something to that effect. i wasn't really paying that much attention. i asked the reception for my favorite barber, but, just my luck, he had left for home already. i was kind of disappointed since, i have to admit, i have had the stupidest crush on my barber from the first time he cut my hair. i can't really say what was it about him that makes him so... UGH! :) all i CAN say is, i would always have a stupid smile on my face every time i rise from his chair, my hair, freshly cropped. in this occasion however, i was led to a different chair, to a different barber. a part of me was half-guarded, my loyalty in check for my one-true-barber.... that was, until i saw who was going to cut my hair. i had already noticed him from the mirror as i was at the door. he stood out primarily since, he was tall, lean, and fair. interesting, i thought to myself. then the reception called for him to attend to me. surprise, surprise, the fates were at their teasing games again.

up close, there was nothing distinctly remarkable about this new barber, besides the ones i had already mentioned... that was until he was already cutting the top of my head and had casually pushed my head down so that he could have a better view. let me just say... I HAD A GOOD VIEW TOO. as i was staring right at HIM, i could not help but remark on how strangely disproportionate IT was compared to the rest of his lean built. my goodness, does he keep a SOCK in there? i tried to find something else to focus my attention to, however, with his proximity to face, there was nothing much else to me to see. i felt a nervous lump begin to build inside my throat, made worse as he pushed my head lower still. the phrase "so near, yet so far" breezed through my head for a split second, but of course, i had to dismiss the thought IMMEDIATELY. my situation and my lycra polyblend shorts could spell a rather embarrassing episode if things were to continue this way. thankfully so, he finally was satisfied cropping the top of my head and i was able to raise gaze off his member, FRANTICALLY now looking for the ugliest thing i could find.

he ended my haircut with a scalp massage, and a VERY good one, i have to say. he took the barber's cape off me and patted my back in thanks. i looked at him briefly, smiled, and quickly walked to reception to pay, head bowed down and mindful not to stare at ANYTHING. as i exited, i caught sight of him smiling. either i looked obviously embarrassed for some reason, or he knew exactly what he was doing... and then some!!!!

overcoming inertia, again

2011-01-03T13:46:00.001+08:00

despite coming home past midnight last night from what i hope would be THE LAST GLUTTONOUS SUPPER in honor of the holidays, i still chose to wake up at 530am, the usual time i would wake up on a workday since, well, it was a work day. i could have actually had about an hours worth more of sleep but i opted not to. instead, i hauled myself, more like rolled actually, off my delightful bed and threw myself into my gym attire and headed out to my neighborhood gym.

walking around the delightfully safe streets of tondo (notice the underlying hint of sarcasm, in case you haven't noticed), long before the first pot-bellied cop has stirred from his (probably) mistress's mattress, was certainly not the most ideal way to start the first work week for the year, but, i reckoned, surely even the criminals are too suffering from the laziness that many people were feeling at that moment. besides, i thought, nothing much there to take from me except for my stinky shoes and my torn towel. needless to say, today was just any other day... so i was trying my best to be convinced. live today like it was any other day and hopefully, the hurtful realization that i would have to go to work a few hours from now wouldn't make me THAT miserable.

gym was as cruel as i had expected it to be. the holidays had wrecked havoc of months of good progress and i now find myself struggling once more, as if i hadn't done any work at all, this the harsh realities of what is the product of poor genes and a very slow metabolism. defeated as i was, however, i did not rest too long in my discouragement. it was a new day, and new opportunities were at hand. there were only three of us who were insane enough to go to the gym the first thing in the morning. even the sun, it seemed, thought that it was crazy to rise that early, especially on such an overcast and chilly day. none of the usual gym folk were there. no happy mommy voices cackling about the latest gossip, nor the usual arrogant banters of the bulky gym rats (who, despite their aggressive regimens, don't seem to look like they're loosing their guts). just me, and two other sorry looking blokes, slaving away on machines and weights, which, from how they felt, didn't really like the fact that we disturbed them as well from their slumber.

i huffed. i puffed, and strained my poor, heavy body. stagnated blood eventually moved. plugged sweat glands finally got a flowing. i was a reawakened machine... now, if only i could keep myself going.

2011

2011-01-01T08:22:00.000+08:00

ah, a fresh new year, hoping that it would be a fresh new start as well.

seeming like it's my new year tradition already, first thing i do as i get up from bed, besides evacuate my full bladder, pick my nose... to check the damage of what the past night's fumes had probably done to my slowly smothered lungs. often, i expect the darkest of hues once my finger emerges from their exploration. today however, my... MALINIS. this unexpected discovery prompted me to think back and take notice as well, my, i slept way past midnight last night and don't recall suffering from tinnitus from all the incessant noise. could it be true??? i guess it is... this year was the quietest new year's day celebration yet.

we had our annual new year's eve dinner last night at my lola's. we were only 13 that evening, the smallest number of my family gathering together. we all fit in just 1 dining table when often, the grandchildren would overflow to kiddie tables. it was half sad since we were quieter this year, less a few voices, less a few personalities, less a few stories, but still, we try to compensate. this year, my lola asked everyone to say grace over the food. this is the second time that she has done so, and i must confess, there is something intimately beautiful hearing the personal prayers of relatives. often, it would just be my lola and one of my uncles who would pray, since, i guess they have the strongest spirits in my family. but this time, upon hearing everyone pray (even my dad), i could not help but feel moved and feel blessed that i am part of this family. small is though my power, i know its not a matter of what i have now, but by God's mercy, what i should aspire to become and gain. hearing the voices of my uncles, my cousins, my parents, even myself, saying grace and being thankful, was a great bonding experience. it tied us all together as a family again, and i could not help but smile. i told my brother after that i loved the fact that i heard dad pray. he agreed, tho he wished dad would do it more often. i have faith that in time, he will.

the last run for 2010

2010-12-31T12:26:00.000+08:00

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

2010-12-30T22:10:00.000+08:00

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

2010-12-25T08:02:00.000+08:00

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

2010-12-17T15:32:00.000+08:00

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

2010-12-16T17:16:00.000+08:00

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

2010-12-14T17:11:00.000+08:00

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

2010-12-10T22:18:00.000+08:00

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

2010-11-25T12:10:00.002+08:00

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

2010-11-22T06:13:00.000+08:00

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

2010-11-19T09:44:00.000+08:00

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

2010-11-17T08:24:00.000+08:00

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

2010-11-15T07:26:00.000+08:00

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

2010-11-13T10:33:00.000+08:00

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

2010-11-11T14:46:00.000+08:00

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

2010-11-04T07:49:00.001+08:00

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

2010-10-28T16:27:00.001+08:00

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

2010-10-26T14:16:00.000+08:00

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

2010-10-24T12:52:00.000+08:00


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

2010-10-21T21:53:00.000+08:00

fallen 10/21/10

salome

2010-10-20T07:05:00.001+08:00

salome. 10/10

skipping breakfast

2010-10-19T09:17:00.000+08:00

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

2010-10-16T12:07:00.000+08:00

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

2010-10-13T07:24:00.000+08:00

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

2010-10-06T09:31:00.000+08:00

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

2010-10-04T11:19:00.000+08:00

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

2010-10-02T18:04:00.000+08:00

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

2010-09-29T15:19:00.000+08:00

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

2010-09-27T11:28:00.000+08:00

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

2010-09-23T09:23:00.000+08:00

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

2010-09-20T09:49:00.000+08:00

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

2010-09-16T09:38:00.001+08:00

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

2010-09-15T14:29:00.000+08:00

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

2010-09-11T10:28:00.000+08:00

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

2010-09-10T10:37:00.000+08:00

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

2010-09-06T21:12:00.000+08:00

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

2010-09-01T07:07:00.000+08:00

"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

2010-08-30T22:56:00.000+08:00

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

2010-08-28T06:37:00.000+08:00

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

2010-08-18T09:40:00.000+08:00

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

2010-08-17T10:10:00.001+08:00

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

2010-08-12T07:26:00.000+08:00

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

2010-08-07T10:11:00.000+08:00

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

2010-08-03T07:52:00.000+08:00

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

2010-07-29T13:01:00.000+08:00

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

2010-07-20T21:22:00.006+08:00

basking

2010-07-19T21:27:00.002+08:00

the dying wanderer

2010-07-16T10:49:00.000+08:00

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

2010-07-14T13:25:00.000+08:00

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

2010-07-10T10:03:00.000+08:00

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.

captivated moments

2010-07-06T07:26:00.000+08:00

i have been observing you for quite a while now. a few years of watching certainly should matter much. i hope you don't mind. i cannot say what was it really about you that made you stand out. at first actually, i thought of you as no one special, at par with the rest of the familiar crowd. there was even a time, i remember, that i was repulsed by you, maybe when i witnessed you in your more juvenile, bratty moods. but that was a long, long time ago.

i didn't see you for years after that. people said you went away, disappeared. then all of sudden, here you are again. you felt the same, yet different as well. you had grown, matured and carry yourself now with a certain level of sophistication. i continued watching you, studying you closely now. indeed, your years of absence had made your reappearance quite enjoyable. strange, you seem to grow more beautiful as the days pass. what is it about you that make you so?

i wonder...

it's very nice to see you again.

about consciousness

2010-07-03T23:07:00.000+08:00

i have been thinking of you lately. yes you. i know you still read me, and i don't really care if people know it as well. there's nothing really much to hide,and there's nothing really wrong of me saying that i am thinking of you.

i try to recall what you were, what you felt like, how you smelled, how you made me feel. it seemed that time is already playing its tricks for i swear, your identity is becoming vaguer and vaguer as the days pass. sometimes i wonder, whether this feeling i have whenever i would catch myself thinking of you, this feeling, is it still even real, or am i now just imagining it, half dutiful to myself that it is my role to feel this longing. i smile seeing you face in my head for no reason, then i look out my window and wonder, was i really that happy?

i have never cried when i ended a relationship, even if i felt bad inside. i really never knew why. i knew in my head that i was deeply saddened, but it seems the pain just never surfaced. i guess i handle it differently, in small minor doses, just enough to keep me longing. just enough to leave me with long time regrets.

a friend and i came to a conclusion that maybe, we are not the relationship types. i think, though i tend to be emotional, that when i begin to feel vulnerable, that i eventually grow cold, over calculating, and eventually distant. my feelings end up buried under theories and far too soon, what could have been a lovely relationship end up in a mess.

funny. i find peace in knowing about this about myself. maybe because i should learn to stay clear now of people i could hurt. maybe this is my curse. i know too much.

narcked out!

2010-06-29T16:53:00.000+08:00

i felt my foot stepping harder on the accelerator. my mind was racing. i just couldn't handle what i was hearing. impossible, i thought. it couldn't be. how could i? i'm, i'm... self effacing, i screamed in my head! but as my brother continued to run through his list, his observations carefully gathered over the many years, he slowly began to expose me. i felt myself squirm in my seat. i grew more and more uncomfortable but did nothing to stop kuya. i instead urged him to say more. blame it on my sadistic penchant for pain, i listened to his report. part of me agreed to all that he was saying, yet my agreement was mixed in with an almost violent internal reaction. in the end, i submitted myself to what was almost a solid arguement. kuya had just brought out to the surface that i actually am a narcissist.

just to prove how right he is, here i am, writing about it as well. ugh. how shameful. ugh, me commenting on it to get sympathy, EVEN MORE SHAMEFUL!!!!

in consolation however, kuya said, trying his best to pacify my now deflated demeanor, and probably to keep us from getting killed since my agitation was very obvious now in my driving, he said i was at least, a closeted narcissist.... the more subtle, more intelligent variety. UGH! i'm BACK in the closet, AGAIN????!!!!

poofing up my ego by convincing myself that i'm actually smarter and more conniving... HOW SO NARCISSISTIC. narcs have great potential to be manipulators you know. ugh....

it no longer has to be said how bothered i am about learning this about myself. don't get me wrong, i appreciate the honest observation for truly, i doubt i would have ever seen myself in such light but after what my kuya said, and after reading about narc's, and after realing he's right, it's disturbing me greatly. i literally felt as if the rug was pulled under my feet. it was just supposed to be a casual, benign conversation about ppl's roles in relationships, but no... i had my gun pointed back at my and my brother having me pull the trigger!

my head hurts just thinking about it. hahahahaha. it's funny in a VERY not so funny way. what to do? what to do? i have been called many things in my life but NEVER a narc, and of all things, THIS i what i am reacting the worst to!

ugh....

UGH!!!!!!!!

AAAAAAARRRRGH!!!!!!!!

no coincidences

2010-06-24T10:08:00.000+08:00

here's a modern day parable:

someone asked an old wise man one day, why bother studying spiritual matters when he doesn't even feel like he's retaining anything? the old man said, let us consider a basket made of straw and i were to throw this basket into a well and use it to draw water, what do you think would happen? the other person pointed out that no water would be drawn for the water would just leak out of the basket. correct, said the wise man. but if i were to throw this basket into the well again, and again, and again, and again, what would be of the basket now? he then explains, we are like this basket of straw. we study, we pursue, and yet it seems all that we try to retain simply leaks out of us. but if we remain diligent in our pursuit, we will eventually have ourselves soaked fully, every fiber of our "basket" saturated and swollen. you may not realize it now, but in time, you will see that this is true.

it was a long drive that felt like a short one, and the conversation was rich between a believer and an atheist. the believer never felt eloquent for he always felt he was short in many things. the atheist, on the other hand, felt assured of his logic, its principles and its moral soundness. no debate ensued. no bashing nor disrespecting of beliefs, only an enlightening discourse between two people. a discourse that proved to the believer, that he may be short in some things, and yet, was rich in others; that proved to the believer that nothing, in God, is random nor coincidental, most especially between a believer and an atheist, in a long-short drive, deeply engaged in an enlightening fellowship.

being slow: the pros and the cons

2010-06-22T17:37:00.000+08:00

i was once accused in public, my accuser pointing his finger at me in front of my entire high school class, for an act that i did not do. someone wrote an anonymous letter to our class adviser, implicating numerous students who allegedly cheated in their exams. needless to say, our teacher was not happy and wanted to speak to the letter's author to verify its claims. of course, no one fessed up, that would have been social suicide, and in high school, that was as good as death itself.

my "perfect" class soon found itself sinking in a soup of paranoia. the ones whose names were in the letter remained stoic, defiant of the preposterous allegations while the rest began to talk amongst themselves, discussing their theories, gossiping. in the midst of all this, a rather vocal classmate of mine took it as his duty to rid our glorious class of this stain and regain our impeccable reputation again. he was to flush out the weasel by (and his ingenious plan was) asking everyone who HONESTLY, imploring on GOD as our witness, who did not write the letter, to stand up... hoping the guilty party will remain seated.

naturally, everyone stood. not believing how absolutely STUPID this idea was, i took my time to stand. my lag in participation however caught my over-zealous classmate's eye, and with his finger of condemnation, like a spanish inquisitor, he declares that I WAS TO BLAME. i was half way to standing. i recall looking at him, his smug look, his round head bobbing gently, obviously well pleased with himself. i could not make anything of the moment. i often visit this day in my head and question, what else could i have done differently?

my entire class' gaze was suddenly onto me. some threw looks of disgust, some of shock, some of curiosity. i was being judged. i had not spoken a word yet, probably caught in the same shock as some people who were surprised to learn that i was the culprit. a few seconds later, someone asked "why do you say it was jamie?" my classmate answered "because he was the last to get up." in the same speed as i was judged, i was also vindicated as my entire class eased up as it dawned on them too how STUPID we were all acting. in no time, we were back to our relaxed mood, as if nothing had happened... two people however remained alert, obviously changed by these events. one of them was me. i never trusted my classmates again. the other, my accuser. he was still adamant that it was me.

i recall going home that day and telling my brother what had happened. in almost at an instant, my dragon-brother was already plotting revenge. i however recall feeling utterly indifferent. i knew in my head, i really shouldnt be acting so coolly about this, yet however, could not muster the appropriate emotions to handle it. all i could do was acknowledge the fact that i was wronged, and that i felt hurt that i was wronged.

not too long ago, i was reminded of this incident in high school as i was wronged again.

i did not get angry. i did not react. all i did was sat there as my person got attacked, as i sat frozen in disbelief as to what i was hearing. i now recall the moment playing in this almost slow motion scene, as the words rolled off his tongue, as the words tumbled toward me. i recall the look of his face, the wincing of his eyes, the curl in his lips, the flaring of his gesturing fingers. i remember the strike of offense, the tone of condescension, the pinch of sorrow, followed by an overwhelming numbness.

i think i am blessed of being slow to anger. great peace is achieved because of this. i think my offenders are also being shown mercy for my God knows what i am truly capable of.