When you choose to love someone you know is wrong for you, you have already willingly blindfolded yourself and aimed a sharp butcher knife pointblank against your heart. It could be his infectious laughter. Or the way he looks at you with a sly smile. Maybe he is terribly smart with a wealth of misadventures that keep you at the edge of your seat. His smell maybe? Or the way he sighs your name like a prayer. And you are the god.
But the truth is there, lurking at the back of your mind, poking its ugly head seconds right before you fall asleep. You know this will not last. He is not right for you. Yet everyday you meander with your magnificent blinders on, light on your feet and sunshine in your pocket, telling yourself that he is the reason for your happiness. Every skeleton you uncover you call an unfortunate twist of events, a mere fossil too aged and must be forgotten. Red flags wave all around and yet you choose to ignore. Slowly you twist the knife in and say the pain is beautiful. This is what it truly means to live.
I am truly in love, you say. True love is when you embrace a person for all he is, you say. But when you see a scar and you say, what scar? Is that really love? When he says you are the salve for all his wounds, and you complete his being, is that truly what it means to belong to someone?
I say it is not.
Love is not cutting yourself up into painful pieces to complete his missing puzzle. It does not give a part only to take away a hundred fold. Love is secure on its own and does not patronize. It does not make you kneel just to appear bigger. Love is not omission of error. It does not romanticize lies. Nor give innumerable excuses for it and demand to still be understood and forgiven. Love changes for the better. Love wants you to be better. It kneels down to give you a lift and tells you to go on and jump from a plane if you want to, only to be your parachute and stable ground when you come back down.
One day, you will want to remove your blindfold, take the knife out. Now it is buried hilt deep in your chest. To take it out is equally painful but all at once -- jagged ends, red eyes and throbbing veins. You are not used to the light and your eyes take time to adjust and see him again as if for the first time. He will be there with arms wide open but you know better. It is difficult. It will take time. It always takes time. You step away. You rediscover yourself, scarred and slightly scared, but stronger. A thousand steps forward and when you look back, don’t regret. Because true love won’t want you to.
When I think of sleep, I think of him. The different phases of his solemn face in the dark. As he looks at me with eyes chinky with sleep, a sliver of light falls in a crescent on his left temple, down the bridge of his nose, touching the fullness of his slightly parted lips. His warm breathe waxing and waning in soft rhythms makes my eyelashes flutter. My heart falters.
I trip over my own thoughts and forget -- what was it? What was I supposed to say? I always get tangled up in the middle. The when and how of falling asleep forgotten. The thoughts that come random and raving in the dark melt away in the morning sunshine like trapped nightmares in a dreamcatcher's web. But it always ends up the same way. At least, how I always want it to end up at every break of dawn -- your face bright with the sun's borrowed light right next to mine.
Singing: Wonderful Tonight - Eric Clapton
We have often told ourselves that we belong to each other. You are mine. I am yours. But the truth is…
I do not belong to you.
My head belongs to the clouds and the clouds that take hold of my hair, playing with the strands and chasing my thoughts here and there. My eyes belong to the far-off endless sea, that even if I am in the middle of the scorching desert, my eyes still search for the vastness of the ocean. My nose belongs to scents that linger in the past, stirring up old memories of homemade sour stew that Mother patiently stirs inside a stainless steel casserole. My mouth and lips and tongue belong to stories and poems and lyrics and pages and pages of tales a thousand leagues long. My shoulders and arms belong to work both bidden and voluntarily taken. My back belongs to the bed where I happily retire every night (and every weekend afternoon with a book, if not your warm presence, by my side). My hips and belly, well, you know who they are for – the little one that I want to be worth being called Mother for. My legs and feet belong to the ground and dirt and sand, reminding me of where I should stand and what I should stand for.
No, not even my heart belongs to you. Because it belongs to Him all-knowing when it starts and stops to beat.
Despite of this, do not leave me and do not close yourself to loving me. Because there is one thing that I choose and want to give to you. A place where we belong with each other. A speck of sand inside an hourglass that seems insignificant now but is just about a flip of a coin away. This is where I belong with you, and you with me. And this is where I look forward to holding your hands forever … in our future.
Paano na nga kasi ang sumulat? Minsan…
Kapag nag-iisa sa kwarto, hihiga lang ako sa kama at tititig sa kisame. Hindiko alam kung bakit ngayon ay nahahati ang aking isipan. Sabi ng kanan, ayos lang yan at minsan ka lang naman mabakante, lagi ka na lang busy. Sabi naman ng kaliwa, wala ka na bang mas mabuting gagawin kesa tumunganga? Maglinis ka ng kwarto, o magbasa ng libro.
Hindi ko alam kung bakit pero kahit ang gana ko sa pagbabasa ng libro ay unti-unting nawawala. Dati, wala pang isang lingo tapos ko na ang 400 pahinang nobela. Ngayon eh mukhang 1984 years din ang gugugulin ko matapos lang ang kwento ni Orwell.
Kaya madalas ay napapaisip ako nung nasa hayskul at kolehiyo pa ako. Nung hayskul ay madalas akong magsulat ng Feature articles para sa aming schoolpaper. Ito ang nagdala din sa akin sa National Press Con. Una at di malilimutang alaala din ng powdery white sand ng Boracay. Nung kolehiyo naman ay mas naging hilig ang pagsusulat ng mga dagli. Masarap ang feeling na napaliligiran ka ng mga taong mahilig rin magbasa at magsulat.
Pero ngayon, gaya ng araw na ito, nakatanga na naman ako mag-isa sa aking kwarto. Gusto kong magsulat o bumasa, pero bakit wala ang mga ideya?
Naisip ko na para akong bago at “frustrated” news reporter na naghihintay makahanap ng break. Nasa kalsada ang kwento. Nasa kalsada ang tunay na buhay. Nasa kalsada ang malaki kong break. Kaya tuwing nalalapit ang hatinggabi ay hihilahin ko ang kaibigang cameraman at lilibot kami sa mga likong kalsada ng Maynila. Sa mga lugar na sa tingin ko’y may mangyayari, basta maghintay at magmasid lang.
Pero walang nangyayari.
Kung mayroon man ay hindi ako ang makakakita. Ibang reporter o ibang network ang makakauna. Palpak na naman. Maraming di mabilang na gabi at buwan ang lilipas na ganito. Minsan nga’y ako na rin ang cameraman dahil ayaw na akong samahan. Hanggang isang gabi ay di ko na kakayanin. Habang paliko ng isang eskinita, palabas sa highway ay hahanap ako ng magandang spot. Paliliparin ko kaya hanggang bumangga sa island at magsirko ang aking sasakyan? O sasadyain ko kayang habulin at hamunin ng sagasa ang isang 10-wheeler truck? O ipasok ko sa isang convenience store ang buong kotse na parang eksena sa Fast & Furious? Ako na lang ang kwento. Ako na lang ang headline. Makita man lang ang pangalan ko sa TV, mabasa sa dyaryo, at marinig sa radyo. Pag-uusapan ako maging sa social media. Kahit ano, basta gagawa ako ng headline. Kaya makakakita ako ng poste malapit sa isang police station at haharurot. Ngingiti bago bumangga, ngingiwi sa sakit na mabilis din namang mawawala. Dead on the spot, sasabihin sa balita. Ang di alam ng aking patay na katawan, matutupad nga ang kahilingang makagawa ng headline. Mababanggit ang pangalan sa tri-media at social media. Pero isang araw lang at kakalimutan na rin ng mga tao. Hindi naman malaking pangalan. Hindi naman importante. Meron pang mas importanteng usapin gaya ng panukalang gawing Pambansang Pagkain ang adobo o kung may lalantad pa bang rape victim ulit si Vhong Navarro. Tapos ang kwento.
Minsan lang naman…
Pero hindi ko na alam kung paano ikwento. Nakalimutan ko na nga siguro.
To post something. Anything. I hope this doesn't fall under the category of mediocrity. Because that will hurt my religious feelings. Yes I have faith in the spirit of spontaneity it can be a religion. Only it's not really enough to start making a business out of it.
And speaking of business, I am going to try my hands on the spindly bracket-y crisscrossed world of networking. Good luck to me.
That's it basically. That's all I wanted to say. Although as usual I end up talking about something different first. Oh well. Here's to spontaneity. :)
Wow. Hi LJ. It's been forever since...I don't even remember. But I have missed posting entries (which in the past sounded more like rants) so at the dead of night, while waiting for my lover to call me, I feel the sudden urge to write this.
Yes I did mention the word "lover". You didn't misread that. But delving into the who's and what's and WTF's deserves a separate sheet of paper.
So I will just share that I've been accepted to work for a 5-star hotel property in Abu Dhabi. That's 4 time zones away from the Philippines. Why? I wanted change. A fresh challenge. An entirely different environment. I already have my work visa and all I'm waiting for is my immigration clearance. I expect to land in Arab territory mid-March.
Am I ready for this? Well, logistically yes. Mentally and emotionally? I'm 86% there, give and take a margin of error of leaving loved ones behind and not being able to go home for more than a year. Good luck and Godspeed right? Yah I know. For now, I'm filling my days with the humdrum at home. Soaking up all the familial attention and love and drama before I go. In my big purple luggage bag, I save a little warm space for memories.
Posted via m.livejournal.com.
|» Another vacation yet again|
So I was forced to take a vacation leave for 5 days due to the fact that my leaves are collecting dust in one corner of my corporate desk. I arrived in Manila on a gray Friday afternoon and battled it out with other commuters on the train. I jumped from one jeep to another bus and finally, I get home to Bulacan.|
Ah yes. Home. Nothing quite like it. My ears were suddenly assaulted by high-pitched barks from a dozen dogs - no wait there's only 3 of them - and I had to shake my head a bit to realize that my lola was right in front me already, ready to give me a skinny bear hug.
I miss being home. I miss how breakfasts are already served in the morning. How there is always merienda when you get hungry. I miss how there seems to be a food carousel going around the neighborhood! Taho, pichi-pichi, banana cue, sapin-sapin, ginataang bilo-bilo. Believe me, the entire snacks menu of a standalone kubo carinderia passes by the house every single day. Of course, I miss my family as well. There are times when I wonder why I'm such a klutz, such a weirdo bonker. And then I go home and I am reminded. Of my roots. LOL
I try to see as much friends as possible. But due to the sudden nature of y visit and the fact that my leave fell on regular workdays, I content myself by a handful of them.
The minutes turn to hours that turn to days. And tomorrow evening, I stuff my bag again and head to my second home in Cebu to resume my relationship with my job. Believe me, I'm practically married to it. But believe me as well that I might have found early in life (lucky, yes) the job that doesn't feel like a job...75% of the time. You don't want to know how I am on the other 25%. But yessie yes, I am loving my job although I must admit it loves me more than I do. Just thinking of how many emails and pendings are waiting for me when I get back Wednesday morning. *happy sigh*
Oh well, it's happy Monday and I have to be off! By the way, for those who can relate (or understand Tagalog), watch Ramon Bautista's TALES FROM THE FRIEND ZONE. It's a killer. Yvonne, out!
|» Kampai, 2011!|
The clock ticks its final seconds and just like that, the New Year has come. I am standing, water glass in hand, at the balcony of our home, watching as the night sky is lit by fireworks of different colors and shapes. I stand in awe, ignoring the pounding in my head. The fireworks are making my migraine worse but I do not care. I have switched off all the lights in the house, my back turned away from the darkness. I stubbornly ignore that nagging though that I am alone on New Year’s Eve, something that has never happened in my 20 years of existence because for the first time I am not home for New Year. I make a resolution that never again will I let myself be prey to loneliness. I raise my water glass and give a toast to 2011 with a smile.
Here's to a fruitful 2011 and hoping the Mayans are wrong about the extinction of the world in 2012!
|» 8 Days|
It's been 3 days since I got back home in Bulacan. And all I want to do is to lounge in the couch all day watching movies and cable TV and doing nothing for a change. The house looks like a Christmas postcard, all that's missing is snow. Poor Halloween, always bypassed. And we have a new (adopted) dog! A Beagle named Sassy who actually snores and has the tendency to fall asleep sitting down. At once, I am updated with the latest neighborhood chika. What happened to who and why they left and who has a new whatever. Aah home. :)|
Ever since I've been to Cebu, I've spent most of my days out of our cozy apartment. But now that I'm back home, the old lazy habits kick in and even though I want to see friends I haven't seen in a looong time, I just want to stay at home and do nothing. God I missed cable TV so much (FYI, we only have two stations that actually work, Channels 2 and 7 - and since I can't help grimacing with the gooey magic whatevers 7 serves, we usually stick with 2 and now I'm updated that Gelai now knows that Vera was playing her, and Jewel and Emerald are now officially introduced to society by their grouchy Lolo).
So yessie yes I am typing away with no particular message in mind. Rambling, which do not happen usually to me anymore. Working has made me talk straight to the point all the time I forgot how to talk with no purpose except to just talk. So now I realize I haven't had breakfast and my stomach begins to complain so I have to shut up now.
|» rooftops and planes overhead|
The string of lights, clear even in the faraway distance, looked like beads in a rosary. Every now and then, a plane will take off and Ava, Astrid and Philip would be racing to name which plane just took off. Clint was lying down in the sofa downstairs completely out of it. Sydney clearly had too much to drink. And so did I. |
I lie down and feel the cold smooth surface of the roof under my palm. I reach out for another ice cube to chew on while I watch Ava playing with Sydney. For a moment, I am afraid that the two might just fall off the roof and suddenly the night would turn into something like a nightmare. But I shrug it off, knowing they won't. Astrid lies somewhere near me, keeping quiet, but making a comment and laughing every now and then. I sigh and think, maybe vodka is too much for me tonight. Another plane takes off...
Last night, if someone were to take a top-view picture of us as we sit or lay there on the moist roof, we would have looked like a scene straight out of Honey and Clover. Warm, nostalgic, unforgettable. That's how it made me feel.
There are scents that rekindle the memory
There are smells that whet the appetite
And when they hit you from nowhere
Like a cold wave on a warm summer day
You plunge back to childhood memories
Of a younger girl back when
She was five, when she was ten
And you keep counting backwards until you are sitting
Once more in the front steps of your new, unfurnished house
Butter cooking in the pan
The smell drifts upstairs, strong enough
To rouse you from the deepest of sleeps
Waking up you head for breakfast
Fix a quick cup of coffee
And you remember early mornings
With your grandfather in the store
The strong but sweet smell of coffee
In the early morning light
Mingling with the delicious vapors coming
From freshly baked pan de sal
Oozing on the sides with melted Dari Crème
Mouth watering, you taste butter like a dream
You remember, your ears tingle
The bell tinkles, a sound from afar
Yet you hear it suddenly
A sound only kids can hear
With silent tenacity
It’s manong selling that sweet pink iced snack
Lathered with chocolate syrup and powdered with milk
Scramble! You shout, and scramble out
To get five pesos from Nanay to buy your afternoon delight
Inside you see your baby cousin being fed
Something white and creamy
Cerelac, you whisper and your tongue remembers
As you recall eating half of your baby sister’s meal
You laugh and head towards the store
Jingling the remaining coins in your pocket
Wishing Manang sells little square caramel candies
Wrapped in brown foils
You wish for small, bright red cherry gums
You wish for ice cream with bread and marshmallows
You end up buying nothing
You come back home, the toddler plays
On the floor, powder gleaming on her neck and skin
Johnson’s, for sure
Picking her up and tossing her in the air, she giggles
And her special baby scent lifts off her skin
Mixes in the air and induces nostalgia for your childhood
She plays with your stuffed toys and discovers
How comforting it is to snuggle close to their fur
And just go to sleep with a hug from Mother
It is hot and you yearn
For pine-scented breeze and the feel of pine cones
On your hand, freshly picked from the ground
It is hot and the baby falls asleep surrounded by furry friends
You turn the fan on and you turn a page
Of your Harry Potter books
Their spines looking as if they have never been read
But you know the story and the scent of the paper by heart
And as you write this down
A fragranced pen traces ink all over the blank sheets
You remember countless autographs and biographies
“What is your motto?”, “Your first love?”
Filled up in grade school, forgotten by high school
You remember so many days in a single Sunday
And you are suddenly happy
For you know you are older
But your heart remains young.
Note: This is for an assignment in my Psych 101 class, scents and foods that remind me of my childhood. It's not a poem. It just pretends to be one because of all the cut lines and the attempt for rhymes and internal rhythm stuff. But yeah. If you say it's a poem, thanks. I am flattered. :D
|» uneven footing|
Unfinished sentences. Unsent messages. Unexpressed feelings. Untold words. Lately I have been collecting these fragments of my being. Aborted ideas that do not see the light of day. Is there no audience for my random ramblings? Is there no person willing to hear? Is there no one who can say, hey, a penny for your thought? I don’t think so. There will always be an open ear somewhere, and an open heart. But I’m not aiming for the general public, not even my circle of friends. No, these ‘fragments’ only fit inside his palm. It is his prerogative whether he will decide to keep them, or whether he thinks they fit in his heart’s puzzle. But just when I am about to touch his shoulder and say, do you have a moment? Even before I press the Send button, I am reminded of myself. Of my proud, proud self. Indomitable will, unyielding. I will not allow my heart to break. Even if it’s the only way to know the truth. And so I stay with one foot in the dark, one foot almost in the light, hanging in the air, hesitating. Soon, someone will say, put your foot down, Yvonne. And when that moment comes, it will not matter whose heart will be heard breaking at the end of one finished sentence, one sent message, one expressed feeling, one word told. What will matter is the overwhelming feeling of freedom of knowing the truth at last, no matter how hard it can be to accept.
|» Coming out from under the covers|
Coming out from under the covers
Today, I wake up to a lazy Sunday morning. I pick up a book, Maniac Magee, and flip to the last page I have been reading a day before. I indulge myself with the innocent and pure heart of Maniac and I smile as I finish the book for the second time. It sure does feel good to have a place you can go home to, a place you can call home. I will myself to sit up and fix my hair and my bed and stand up and head downstairs where my breakfast is waiting for me. Our dog, Boojie, tail a-wagging jumps up and demands that I carry him over my shoulders. I pick him up and squeeze him, nuzzle in his soft, thick, white fur, enjoying the sweet canine scent of his soft, warm body. I let him go and he followed me as I grab a plate and fill it up. Today we have fish and tomatoes. I make myself a cup of strong, sweet coffee and I settle for a hearty meal. My parents ask me about the grad pictorial yesterday and I merely shrugged. Commenting shortly on how awful it was. They probably saw a dark cloud pass over my face and so they left me in peace.
Hours later, after all chores are done, I grab my dad’s laptop and proceeded to lock myself up in my room. I turn the thing on and opened my file of The Time Traveler’s Wife. I have been reading this ebook (sorry, I know this is some form of piracy and I am totally cheating Audrey Niffenegger of profit she totally deserves) for weeks now, only being able to read for an hour or less in between my busy academic schedule. Today, though, I was determined to finish it.
And I did. Just a couple of minutes ago before I stated typing this blog out. How was the story? It was sad. It attacks your heart with soft jabs and pinches, but in a very beautiful, caressing way. Like hearing a sweet, sad old love song after so many years. Like the way the sun sets, paints the sky in a multitude of colors, but signals that another day is done. Like how the rain just finished falling and everywhere it is gray and subdued, but when you look at the trees, you see how fresh they look, how their leaves are washed off dirt and shines wet and bright and newborn. Sad and beautiful, like a mother leaving to work in a strange land so her family can have a better future.
Henry and Clare’s love for each other. It’s tragic and it does not have Disney’s happy ending. But it is real. It’s something that time can never age, something the universal powers of all the gods and nature’s fury cannot stop. And it is in this kind of story that I choose to envelop myself with right now. I feel very melodramatic, plus the serious I-can’t-move-on-just-yet-after-such-a-beautiful-heart-rending-story kind of look on my face, plus the classical music and instrumentals emanating from the laptop’s speakers.
Am I lonely? Maybe yes, maybe no. Maybe it’s all just a side-effect from finishing a really good story. Maybe I have been feeling lonely for some time now and I just did not notice until something (in this case, the novel) acts as a catalyst for me to truly recognize how I have been feeling all this time. Maybe because the first time I dream about this boy, I pretend he doesn’t exist and do a well-executed snobbish act. Well, whatever it is, I feel down. Maybe I should sing my heart out and karaoke the night away with my father? Or sleep? Like Clare, sleep is an opiate for me when I don’t feel so good. Or maybe I should read the book again? Hahaha! What a desperate, hopeless nerd I am. My fingers are startlingly white and slim against the black keyboard in this semi-dark room.
I think I’ll just grab myself a book of Bob Ong and humor myself with dark humor for a while. Then I will have dinner just to satisfy my parents’ requests to please eat because in my baggy shirt I look like something they saw in an 80’s horror film (they exaggerate, as usual, because I know I look good and pretty. Bah.). Then I will convince myself that I have to read for our thesis’ RRL (convince myself I need the thesis to graduate is more like it). I will read until I am too tired for any stray thoughts to come and keep me up until 2 am. Then tomorrow will present itself again and bless me with a fresh new batch of opportunities. With life.
Shine for me strong and bright,
tomorrow’s sun, and I will shine
for all the world to see
just wait and see.
|» little distractions|
in the midst of my busy hours, i let tiny moments like this interrupt. i allow myself the luxury of letting your memories distract me for a few minutes. i let myself go back earlier today when we sat on the bench and i listened to you as you vent your problems out. i don't think i was much help. i didn't even know what to tell you. but you still sat there with me. and i liked that. now, i wish i could have hugged you, or held your hand for the brieftest moment. but there's this notion at the back of my mind that maybe, i am not the person you want to do these things for you. but i want you to know that i want to be the one who can make things easier for you, no matter how insignificantly small my efforts can be. i want you to know this. but i don't know how. and i'm not sure if you want to know. god, how it depresses me. but right now, i guess i have to go back to work. i will say a little prayer for you tonight so you can go to sleep easy, my darling.
|» XXX: eXtreme eXperience to the Xth Level|
Nowhere to go for your ACLE? Here's an idea:
Want to be an XXX STAR without taking off your clothes?
UP Tourism Management Society (UP TMS)
in cooperation with KAMPO UNO presents..
XXX: eXtreme eXperience to the Xth level
Live it. Zip it. Grip it.
an action-packed ACLE featuring ZIPLINE, ROPE STUNTS, and MORE!!!
So what are you waiting for? Take off your fear and wear your bravest face!
Come join us in one rocking afternoon!
For details, contact LALA @ 0915.225.6263
or YVONNE @ 0927.315.9509
|» still undecided after all this time|
It's been ages since I last posted. But nothing much have changed when it comes to my estranged love life. Maybe it's more accurate to say it's nonexistent? Suppressed? Nakakain ba yun?
There's this guy I'm really fond of. He's a close friend. And if truth be told, we had a relationship for 3 months before I decided (in a very abrupt manner) to end it. What are my reasons? There are a lot. But I told him that what I feel for him was more platonic than romantic. To keep the story short and simple (and to prevent you from tutting repeatedly due to my lack of better judgment), I broke up with him because I was selfish. I didn't want our friendship ruined. Because I was scared. I'm scared because I have never felt so confused in my life. Ever. When it comes to other people, when it comes to work, I know what I want to happen. I know what I want to do. Everything is as clear and tangible to me as this keyboard I am currently abusing.
Except with him. I am always at a loss when it comes to him. I dunno what happens but my brain and every reason that I have all this time are comparable to the trash can I am softly kicking with my feet. He always makes me so ... uncertain. When it comes to him, I am never decided. I don't know what I want to happen. When he asks me if he wants me to wait for him, I don't know what to say. I mean, after everything I have done to him, do I still have the right to tell him to wait? For me? I can never answer that question. But maybe the most basic question I have to answer is if I love him. Do I? I can't say for sure. I am scared to lose him. And I am scared to think that one day he will walk out of my cluttered life because I didn't have the strength to hold on to his shirt to stop him as he walks away.
After all this time, I am still undecided. But this is not the place where I want to be for the rest of my life. Even if it's not for my sake. I must do it for him. Even if it means hurting myself in the process.
|» futile joys|
At this point in my life, I feel fulfillment in the accomplishments that I achieve. I was able to get into the World Trade Center for my Practicum this summer. I was recently elected as one of five Councilors in our college's Student Council. Yesterday, I can say that our forum about the medical tourism industry in the Philippines was relatively successful. I'm surrounded at connected with brilliant people. And my life as a student is quite alright. I am generally happy with the things going on right now. |
But as we get to this point, I'm sure you know something's wrong, that something's up. Well, if you know me personally, you will know that I am an ambitious person. Ambitious, in the healthy sense of the word and not in the babangon-ako't-dudurugin-kita (I-will-rise-and-conquer-you) type of ambitious. I am a proactive dreamer-worker. Many things I pray for and many things come in my way. Sometimes, I am presented with many choices and I don't even know which ones to take. I want a lot of things for me that at times it feels like there's not enough space. So what do I do? I try to fit in as much as possible and at times, push some things aside or away to make more room. And at the end of the day, when the euphoria has faded and left only a sweet aftertaste in my mouth, I realize that I may have pushed away aspects of my life I can not do without, maybe not at this moment, but in the long run. At the end of the day I relaize that no matter how much hearts I win or how far I have run and traveled, no matter if I receive a standing ovation, if the ones who really, truly matter in my life are not there to share the happiness and the successes with me, then it's all pointless. Futile. Dead.
so this is how it feels to be really betrayed, to be left in the air hanging by people you have trusted. there's this feeling of emptiness, a deep gaping void, at the pit of your stomach that just gets bigger in time. and to think that up to now i am still waiting for them to prove me wrong! well, the problem with me is that i trust too much, too fast. it is such a pain to know now that you can't just hand out trust like candy. right now, i'm pushing tears back since i don't want to give them that much satisfaction. or whatever it is that they get by doing this to me. to think that i gave up precious time, spent many late nights working for them, but all for this?? this, this .. seriously, there are no words fitting enough for what they have done. for what they are doing. i just wish that i am the last victim. the feeling of betrayal is not healthy at all. |
well, whatever. what goes around comes around, right? and when the time comes that it does, if they are really doing this to me, then i hope it hits them hard.
|» i adore the Federer-Nadal friendship|
After the Australian Open where Federer got beaten by rival-friend Nadal...
R. Federer: "God, it's killing me."
R. Nadal: "Sorry for today. I know how you're feeling right now.
It's really tough.
But remember you are a great champion,
you are one of the best in history
and you're going to improve the 14 of Sampras."
Isn't this sweet?
True friendship between men never fails to astound me.
I'm not really a fan of tennis so to know more about what happened, read this.
|» i wanna go back to montemar|
The beach is soooo therapeutic. I felt like I lost 10 pounds of emotional baggage there. I wish I own a private beach so I can visit it anytime I want. |
Exercise your rights to voyeurism. Lookie here for pictures. :D
she passes by without her knowing that i am following her with a peripheral stare. and as she walked away, while my eyes catch the last billowing folds of her gentle skirt flowing in the wind, i know things have changed. i do not recognize her anymore. and she probably does not recognize me. all we have are snatches of our past life together. they are only months ago. but now they seem like an entire lifetime away. we have grown apart. that is sad. i would have liked to be her friend more. to talk to her about life at school, life at home, life with ourselves. there would have been many things to talk about and rant about and laugh about while waiting for class, on the way to the comfort room, or while standing in line at the canteen. but i guess things are too awkward now. i could have followed her. run to her, even. but i didn't. because i didn't know what to say after the first hi-hello is said. so all i did was fold my arms on the table and bury my face in them as the world around me detaches and the sound of everything is distorted by my memories of the day we first met.|
|» The Curious Case of an Ungrateful Daughter|
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is a movie already on show, adapted from one of F. Scott Fitzgerald's novels. Watched it last night with Bigan on the big screen. I'm sure I might have enjoyed the movie. The plot is interesting: Benjamin was born 76 (?) years old and is literally growing backwards. He died a baby, of course. The story was even better. I might have enjoyed the movie except for the fact that I totally ruined the night for me. How? Break your Dad's heart. That will surely work.|
I didn't tell him I was going out until late into the night. I only told my Mum. And so he was mad. He felt betrayed by me, his ingrate of a daughter. So he vented out his anger to my hapless mother who didn't know that I didn't tell my Dad about me going out. It was all my fault. And my Mum didn't deserve the repercussions of me bypassing my Dad's authority. I felt too guilty the whole night, using up my nervous energy by scratching my thumbnail on my pants, that I wasn't able to focus on what the characters were saying. I mean, look at this blog. It's grammatically problematic and almost incoherent. There would have been a lot of "Awww" moments, I could have even cried a tear or two. But no, the moment was ruined by no less than the stupidity and cowardice of me. I won't go to the details of why I did what I did or what happened afterwards. Let's just say I'm still here all alone with my computer talking to virtual people since the atmosphere in the sala becomes tense and somewhat static when I enter the scene. My, my...
But at least there are the good points. I generally enjoyed the night and the Sicily pizza and the company of Bigan. And I have 3 new books from BookSale. God, I love that shop. I bought Jodi Picoult's Perfect Match and Bigan bought me Ken Follett's The Hammer of Eden and Barbara Kingsolver's The Poisonwood Bible (since he actually knows I'm broke and will be broken-hearted if I didn't have these books). I actually wanted to brag about it (to OJ specifically) but I know some other people (OJ, specifically)have had better finds. So, whatever. Still, I'm happy I have new books. They actually gave me a better perspective on my life beyond the sem break.
Anyway, I just wanted to rant about something. I actually have to be studying for my midterms. Aren't you supposed to be doing the same thing?
|» EROTIKKA ba?|
sa Panitikang Erotika
ni Propesor Reuel Molina-Aguila
Desyembre 10, 4pm, CAL 210
the movie? one word: disappointing.|
|» UP UGAT Poetry Night Invitation|
UP Ugnayan ng Manunulat
ang isang gabi ng panulaan na tatapos sa pagkalam ng sikmura ng bansa...
PAANO KUMAIN NG SALITA
at iba pang PANGTAWID-GUTOM
26 Setyembre, 2008
ika-7 ng gabi
kakagat ka ba?
Magkakaroon din ng book raffle sa nasabing event na pinamagatang PANGHIMAGAS. Ang mamapanalunan? Mga libro lang naman ng Palanca winners ng CAL. Joiners na! Dos per tiket lang. Pangkendi mo lang yun di ba? *kindat*
|» VANTAGE POINT tickets for sale!|
Kung ang iba ibinebenta ito ng P60, dahil marunong akong magmahal at alam kong krisis ngayon, ibebenta ko na lang ang Vantage Point tix ko for P40. Kamon. Grab the chance na!|
|» We won hurrah!|
Was the mktg competition worth it? Hell yeah it was. We won. First place. Which is all sorts of cool. Hurray for putting AIT on the map! It's no longer like Hogwarts, if you know what a nerd like me means. Finally, we exist! *fireworks and glitters and drums*|
AIT, you owe us
a tarp a free lunch. And the cancellation/reschedule of my Tour 131 and 161 exam (which might not happen but still just in case you change your mind).
Tour 131 wasn't rescheduled because Sir G was happy being a crab. Tour 161 was moved though. Much to my joy! Wee Sir M!
|» it takes you years to know what love is|
My shoulders hurt. My eyes burn. Too much computer exposure. I am tired and I have been neglecting my classes lately. I don't know how many absences I made since last week. But it seems weird that I just don't care. This marketing competition better be worth it all. Or is it our job to make it worth it? *shrug* Ouch. My shoulders hurt.|
And I am tired. Before going home I told my best friend Rej how much the idea of being involved in a relationship tires me. Physically and mentally. Whenever it crosses my mind, my posture slacks and my lips curl down the edges. I can even hear my brain firing its last synapses before finally giving up. No. Not right now. I can't be in a relationship right now.
Why is junior year so darn exhausting???
|» what good dyou get from reading meyer?|
People worship and people defile her series. But, putting aside Edward's godlike perfection, what good(s) can we get from reading Twilight, etc.? (Opinyon ko lang tong mga to. Wag niyo akong katayin. XD )|
- Twilight made me remember how to use sarcasm. I shouldn't be nice and sweet-spoken all the time. I must have angst. Teenage angst. And a good vocabulary. Not that the book gave me new words (except maybe impasse wudduhell).
- I learn to appreciate better writers like Jane Austen, Amy Tan, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Haruki Murakami, Marie Darrieussecq (whose surname almost always gives me brain hemorrhage just trying to spell it out) and Laura Esquivel. I admit that I haven't read that much on other authors but I know that if you're looking for depth and best value for time and money, they offer the best reads.
- I can apply my Tourism studies! The Twilight series is a good example of print advertising.Right now, for sure, Forks and La Push, Washington will enjoy a good rise in visitor arrivals.
- Some books are worth buying. Some are worth being read online. (Nakow I'm dead.)
- I have embarassed myself to the point of humility by contradicting myself more than three times in just one post. So yes this post must be an act of pride restoration.
- I can actually read four books in one week amidst all demanding academic demands (u-huh). I reasoned out that it's because I didn't want to be left out of all the gossips about the new sensation gripping town. And that I wanted to be able to have my own comments and criticisms about the books. But I thought of those reasons later. I honestly started to read it because I learned Pattison was playing the role, the first line I read was about Edward being all husky and sensual on Bella, and I must admit, imagining him and his voice saying all his lines helped me stay up most of the nights reading. Yes, in my mind, the movie will not suck and that will be enough.
- That with this matter, there's a clear line dividing my set of friends: the antis and pros. Hahaha! I dunno where I am in this discriminate line but for all I care, I love the comments both parties give.
- Mikki was very understanding and patient with me when I asked that she give me the 3 e-books. I can understand how hard it must have been for you Mikki. You're own friend! Lead astray! *anguished* Okay enough melodrama. *winkwink*
- I can be very diplomatic (or is the proper term 'defensive') about my twilight addiction. In one of my replies I was like: "but then again i realized i'll never get to understand why i'm hesitant unless i read the book(s) na. after reading them all, i can back up whatever criticism i give it. hehe and yeah. ang hatak ng libro (maliban kay eddiewardie) eh yung madali siyang basahin because it doesn't leave room for your own imagination/creativity. it puts the words and images in your head kaya madali basahin and you can easily breeze through the pages. gawaing tamad i guess.. and it's kinda served with plentifuls of kissing and almost-sex scenes haha but to give it credit, i enjoyed reading it somehow. it gets tiring what with all the repetitiveness pero meyer's quite witty with sarcasm. i have to give her that." Right... Haha
I'll think of other reasons. Some will say it's not worth it. But I dunno, it's a good mental exercise: finding something good in something that's ... well you know. *shrug*
- It made me quite interested in cars. I want to drive a black Aston Martin someday. Own one or look for a friend who has one. Hehehee~
- Rowling has a better storyline. Period. At least she doesn't have to use sex and innuendos as a tool to keep her audience listening.
|» Happy 8th Birthday UP UGAT!|
Dearest pinakamamahal na UGAT alum,|
Happy 8th birthday sa ating org! At bilang kick-off ng month long activities para sa September, meron muling alumni dinner-inuman. Nitong 29, Biyernes, sa Backdoor Blues Cafe, 154 Maginhawa St., Teacher's Village, 7:30 pm. Dumalo at magpadalo. KKB ito ha. :)
Game? Pakicheka na rin! Salamat!
|» you fan fic fan, yes?|
Dear fan fic fan, help me save my best friend's life. She is dinnerwithdana and she needs help with her class and it is with overflowing gratitude that I hug you here *hug hug* if you take time to answer. It's a bit long but think about it. You saved a girl's neck from the guillotine.|
*breathes deeply* I had fun answering. Some were hard to answer like the question of why I disobey rules. XD Now wasn't that fun? *wink*
|» cry cry cry baby|
it's official last night. |
according to my dad, i'm a liar, a drunkard, someone not worth his trust.
of course it's all not true. for now. maybe in a few months time, he will be right. and he will be sorry he never knew his own daughter is better than that.
so much for parental love. hah. my ass..
|» coffee aids in multi-tasking.. or so they say|
before, i can't even fill up a 1"x1"-sized box of my small calendar/planner. now i have this thick hard-bound planner which gives me a page a day and the space is not enough?? why is junior year this hectic? and haggard? it works my ass so hard i can't even think of poetic lines anymore about the falling rain or a streak of gold falling from drenched leaves? ... that can pass as poetic but still.|
i am tired and i am totally dependent on my suddenly religious intake of ferrous sulfate and gallons of water to keep me on my feet. ward migraine away. and food is always an arm away from me. a graveyard shift call center agent might have a healthier lifestyle than i do.
and no matter what i do, no matter how much i plan ahead and list down to-do things, there isn't enough time! i keep running around in my head ticking off the things i have to do on my fingers but i always have this nasty feeling that i'm not getting anywhere. and i have stopped making sense altogether even in the most mundane of conversations. thank god i was lucid enough to throw questions at today's acle speaker. and enough brain cells to brainstorm with classmates about out marketing plan. and now i have to pull an all-nighter again.
i need alibis.
|» reading this is sinful!|
But we all have to know and be aware. So why don't we "make a mistake"? All together now. :D
What does the Church support again? Natural family planning methods? They have to be aware that this kills more people, figuratively and literally, than tuberculosis. And they say they're pro-life.
|» Ach Mensch!|
what i don't understand is their lack of understanding.|
i want to work part-time because there are some things that i want to be able to provide for myself. things i consider like new books, a new pair of jeans, a dozen earrings, a good sunblock, a movie twice a month.
i already let them win the "i-wanna-stay-in-a-bhouse" argument. fine. i didn't push the subject further. i let go.
but! i want to be able to provide for myself simple things like an apple green shirt without having to ask for money. i understand our financial situation and i understand their concerns. it's true that my attention and focus will be split in two and there might be a possibility that my grades will suffer. but don't they know me? or are they too scared of the "circumstances" for them to trust me? whatever the reason is, i need to have money. i want to be able to pat myself in the back for a high exam result or for 3 nights with barely 5 hours of sleep.
why? why can't they understand that there are some things i want to do for myself?
|» ohh i feel much better now|
lately i've been looking for that layout that would make me smile everytime i click! my lj link towards my sun-deprived account. and now finally, thanks to ephi and freelayouts, i finally found my sun-drenched virtual spot. |
also, my spirits are on an all-time low these past few days. maybe because of the weather that seems more fickle than i am. i always feel warmer than normal that i'm constantly on the verge of popping a paracetamol on my mouth or else sleeping away the boring hours spent on nothing but blank daydreams. i'm too deprived of sleep to actually think of anything relevant or logical or even reasonable for my daydreaming moments. i think of randy (don't ask won't tell) sometimes but then again we lack the much-needed exchange of hellos and nods that it's quite hard to picture the both of us sitting in an aromatic cafe somewhere, sipping and bumping our knees under the table. ... i actually had that daydream the other day but it was with someone else. this time it's with my bestfriend. bigan. who's a guy. and who's falling (or have already fallen?) for me. and whom i think of very dearly. but randy intrudes at the most crucial moments and disrupts my memories of him. oh sheer betrayal. oh damned vows of devotion.
but after actually finishing my paper for T161 and looking at these simple but very colorful and lively pictures, i feel much much better. also, i ate twice the normal amount of dinner even if the ulam was quite maalat. i love you mum when you wash the dishes in my stead thinking i'm busy typing my paper but i'm actually
just watching porn just reading poetry.
it's only wednesday but my soul is yearning for sem break.
|» left is right, right?|
This post will start half-hearted and end half-hearted. The only driving force I have in writing this down is the nagging desire to post a new blog.
There was another call to walk out of classes today. As I expected of myself, I did not join. During my class in CNB, we were interrupted by 2 activists earnestly calling for the Iskolar ng Bayan to act and walk out of classes as a clear statement of dissent and disagreement against the Arroyo regime. After they left, there was a discussion of the call to walk out and the current issues. It is evident that there is a problem and a probable solution could be –or must be- to oust the current president. But the question is (as my classmates and teacher puts it) who to replace her with? I kept quiet. When shouts and chants rang across the Atrium, our teacher asked us if we were going to join the mass protest. A classmate behind me snorted and vehemently (almost disgustedly) said “No!” I could only curl my lips in annoyance.
When it happens, then what? Maybe we’ll do what we almost always do: face the problem when it comes; face the next problem that comes after the previous one, and so it goes. Bahala na.
|» 10th frame is my lucky game|
This, I will now conclude, will be random. People who see me everyday will find no point whatsoever in reading this. But there are people I miss and people who (thank god) misses me and it is for that glorious reason that I will keep on making tackety-tack noises in my room. |
That's pretty much it. Now sad to say but this post will not recognize democracy. Tell me how you've been this past few days. If you'd like to curse me and say "Won't recognize democracy ka diyan. Dummass", you're very much welcome.
...At the end of the day, when I've been ignored and no one has succumbed to my repression of democracy, I can just sulk at one corner,
And with grace too!
|» happiness is two kinds of ice cream|
I keep thinking of traveling here and there. Davao. Camarines Sur. Hundred Islands. Aklan. Laoag. Cebu. Palawan. Mindanao. But my pockets are starved. I want to go there with my family but I guess not now.|
I always want to read books but I don't know where to go to get my hands on them. Thank you CAL lib for saving my life.
may or may not need a new guy in my life right now. I'm talking from a romantic point of view. But I get scared of commitments, don my glasses, walk without a smile, and ignore people.
I want to write. A poem. A new story about two lovers. An essay. But I only have half-cooked ideas and unfinished sentences.
I want to be happy. I am happy but in an incomplete sense of the word. I console myself by thinking I'll get what I want when I get older and I'm earning the big bucks. I should be able to afford the things I need and want in life without giving up a limb for them.
|» it may take some time to patch me up inside|
Rainy day it was... |
And I hated it.
My pants got splattered with muck and I really like this particular pair of pants. This was given to me by Bozzeth on my 18th birthday. She said she wore it and then decided it will fit me. I gawked at her and her waist and hips and said, "You're kidding right." Bozzeth isn't fat or anything. I just think she has it bigger than I do. Oh she's gonna kill me when she sees this. Anyway, yes the pants and how its back part was dirty and wet. Mum threw a disgusted look at it (like how I throw disgusting looks at roaches) when I got home. "Anong ginawa mo sa pantalon mo?", she asks. Funny she should ask when it was was still drizzling outside. I shrugged her question off and asked if I can have dinner right there and then. I go to the direction her lips pouted to and eat and drink to my fill.
But I loved it all the same.
Yesterday after it rained and it was about 5 or 6pm, I happened to look outside the window and i saw something really beautiful. Slicing through the half-parted curtains was a sepia-toned world. I went outside and bathed in the pretty golden brown light. But the air was delicious. Cold and tastes and feels like the departing rain. The leaves, darker than their usual newborn green, blended well with this sepia world. I felt stupid and wonderful raising my hands into the air and breathing in the magic of the moment. Pity I had no camera. I have to rely on my brain now. But then again... It's moments like these that make me imagine kissing someone in the rain. Or drinking coffee under sheets with a good book in hand and a wide window to view the outside world. Or just a good dance in the rain again like I was 6.
Funny how the rain can give birth to chaos and beauty both at the same time.
|» Enrollment Blues|
It's that time of the year for |
l o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o n g l i n e s
s e t b c
w a a k
s w w e e a l t e rrr in g h e at o f t he s u nn~
Will UP students stand up to the challenge of . . .
*drumroll coming from somewhere*
THE A.Y. 2008-2009
upd enrollment week
Hassle runs from June 2 to June 6, 2008.
For 1st semester enrollees only.
brought to you by:
Bronson 'n Bronson's Baby Powder
BLEAR Anti-dandruff Shampoo
And other sponsors.
|» for crying out loud!|
I'm looking for new sounds.
I need to hear something new.
Lately, I've been listening to Regina Spektor over and over again.
And I drive Mama crazy with the orchestra and classical music.
And since it Mother's Day, I'm giving her a break.
Can you suggest any opera song that you know?
Or a singer whose got amazing songs.
Can be local or foreign.
Anyone can give their opinions.
We do have different ears anyway.
I'm getting sick of corny FM stations.
|» i'm a slave driven by the virtue of sloth|
I'm in serious need of help. |
I'm currently taking CWTS this summer (a 13-day program that our college runs, it's a national requirement) and our class is doing volunteer work (where we shell out our own money for transpo food etc while doing all the leg work and taking all the torture) for the QC Office in City Hall. One of the tasks assigned to us is to find Filipino songs that have been part of QC's history from 1939 to the present (in preparation for the 70th anniversary of QC next year). The first EDSA revolution is a time when a lot of patriotic songs like Magkaisa, Bayan Ko and Handog ng Pilipino sa Mundo. Other songs such as Ako'y Isang Pinoy by Florante and Kay Ganda ng Ating Musika by Hajji Alejandro also made historical footprints in QC.
I'm sincerely asking for your help. It's hard to find piano sheets for these songs nowadays since these are old songs and these can't be found easily on the net. For those who do have piano sheets or chords of these songs, is it okay for me to photocopy them or buy a copy? This is purely for the purpose of accomplishing our given task.
Other songs that I'm also looking for are Bulag, Pipi at Bingi (Isang Pag-aalay), Anak, Sino ang Baliw, Lahing Kayumanggi and Sa Ugoy ng Duyan.
If ever you do know where I can find piano sheets or chords, do tell me. It will be a great help. Thanks fellow LJ lovers/Filipinos (who haven't thrown away their identity yet in exchange for blue eyes and tongue-lilting accents).
Wow. I sound really nice here. It's what desperation does to the best of people. Even semes break under pressure. 0_o
|» Because I love girls.|
If you were expecting something ghey, sorry I failed expectations. This just happens to be my social awareness and girl power hour. Read along now. Could be helpful at some point or another.|
I'd like you to forward this to all the women you know. It may save a
life. A candle is not dimmed by lighting another candle. I was going to
send this to the ladies only, but guys, if you love your mothers, wives,
sisters, daughters, etc., you may want to pass it onto them, as well.
|» I shouldn't have watched THAT Koreanovela|
Now look at what's happening to me.
Because everything seems familiar again.
The scent, the words, the memories, the touch...
All the things I've lost in the past are coming back to me.
Not as something tangible,
but something as frustratingly vague
like looking at his image behind tinted glass.
Is he waving at me?
Is he smiling? Grimacing?
Or has he turned his back already?
Leaving nothing but his shadow
And the ghost of a smile.
It seems I'm in love with a Cheshire cat.
|» Empty Cups in the Morning|
Tonight like many other nights I think of you
And the silent way you love this someone else
That someone whose warmth you share with until the sunlight creeps through
And tries but fails to dry the tears that only flow in dreamsThat someone I can never be
|» During nights of unrest...|
...somehow there seems to be no stop to my thoughts that plague me in sweet arrest every |
night everytime my head hits that white, soft pillow that sometimes I feel like my pillow is
doing some kind of voodoo on me to accelerate my thinking, beautifying and giving poetic
commentaries to every mundane object happening person I happen to meet that day, while it
sucks everything into its feathery contraptions until my body simply gets tired of too much
mental carnage that it succumbs to the temporary death that is sleep but before that happens
I think, think that the time I spend in bed waiting for sleep is spent uselessly, unwisely, for all
the fun is going on inside my head and my body, pretending to be as heavy as lead, shakes
off all pretentions and impediments of physical fatigue and will cooperate and will satisfy my
whims for I really would like to run to my room grab a pen and paper and write all the lines and
images I see in my head and during that time I become the slave of my mind, my hand yields
to the pull and push and sensual dance of the pen while it leaves its blackened blood dry in an
instant yet doesn't forget to leave its mild scent and stain on my little finger as if reminding
me, like a lover I leave when the morning comes, to not forget what passed between us during
the night of unrest...