Where does one go if one finds oneself running in circles?
The redundancy of it all adds to the exhaustion...You think what you are...must you have to? think what you already are? A case of no solution but will always be a display of repetition. Repetition of what? of almost everything in tow by being you. But what does it mean to be you? Ahh and the mind thinks again...and again...and again...until it reaches a conclusion of something you can never be sure of.
The self, the ever evolving self, shifts even before you can wholly understand it, adding confusion to the already tired mind.
The soul, the tireless soul, wanders around, shaking the body to the core.
The heart, bleeding even when it's not.
And the mind... sometimes aimless with its goal.
Why do we think of things we want to do and why do we not think when we do things?
Must we always run amok, blind and naked?
Vulnerable to pain.
Susceptible to deceit.
Hopeful to the impossible.
Grateful to lapses.
How do you pacify and silent but hurting soul?
How do you embrace a frightened child?
Angry at inconsistencies.
Paranoid towards the unknown.
How do you part the lessons needed to be learned?
How do you say silence without uttering a word.
The drama of life.
The chapters of living.
Always tracing a spiral staircase that sometimes go haywire...entangling the reasons and bending them out of shape. You think you are and then discovers you are not...and then you don't think at all.
While in Bangkok, Greg and I were talking about the things that we usually notice in the Philippines. And we both agreed on one thing. Do you notice it? How taxi drivers, cashiers, etc. ask for the exact change? If the bill is Php102 and you hand a crisp Php500 bill, what do they automatically say? "Do you have two pesos?".
Am I right? Or am I right?
So in the spirit of fun, we decided to do a little test. Will our driver in Bangkok ask for the same? Will the Cashier at the department store will ask for exact change?
Test Case One: Our taxi ride cost our 87Bhat. We handed a hundred. We waited for him to ask for 7Bhat. Nope. He handed us the change without saying anything.
Test Case Two: We bought food at the gluttonous food center of Siam Center. Same thing.
Test Case Three: We went to buy chicken and beer at Big C. The Cashier gave us the total. 128Bhat. Greg and I looked at eachother. Greg took the money out gave her 150Bhat. And offered her 8Bhat. She took it. But she was kinda struggling. She calculated...then she got some help with her on scren calculator. Took her some time to figure it out. I was silently tapping my feet, silently blaming Greg for this delay...Soon she gave us our change...
Greg laughed...She was struggling coz she doesn't care about exact change! When in the Philippines, counting backwards at cash registrars is a second nature.
After this discovery, we started noticing little trivial stuff.
We noticed that in Thailand, no matter what you are drinking, they give you a straw. Try it, buy a small bottle of mineral water and it will come with a straw.
Also, unlike here in the Philippines, they don't tie their plastics, they seal it by tying a rubber band around the opening.
Thailand is also a land of Bangs...Women everywhere have bangs.
It's funny how these little things define a country. Small silly stuff make up big fun things...that might turn out stupid realities...but in this case, it's just little cute things that defines a country's culture. Things we normally take for granted but is deep rooted in our behavior that we do them without thinking.
A country is defined by its people...people are defined by their characters. Characters are shaped by one's perspective...By looking at this things, you understand how differently we all are...but how similar. How varied "enthusiasm" or " greatness" is defined in many cultures but how they often thread in one similar line.
We are having too much fun in this little game we concocted.
Are you still shaken at how poorly you've chosen your friends?
or was it...how poorly you have understood them?
Can you still smell the roses?
Do you still love the earth under your feet?
Perhaps the wind has brought on some memories?
Did you catch the ones you like the most?
Or was it the sad things that got caught in between your fingers?
Do you wish to untangle your heart?
Are you bleeding because you are trying so hard?
Can you dance to the tune of the silent bowing of the trees?
Can you aim at the flying dove that only your gaze could reach?
So many questions in your head right now...
So many things you have known that you unnecessarily have to worry about.
But you worry anyway...and you think...
but still the world hasn't stopped turning.
It didn't even pause for you to lick your wounds.
Nor did it trap the trumpet that loudly shook your stable regions.
Nor did it punish the worthlessness of it all.
It just turned...and turn it will go...until the day you cease to feel its movement.
Oh, it will not stop.
It is too proud for that.
But your tears aren't left unheard, and the careless whisper that broke your heart will not go without receiving its own punishment. It will hear the echo of the voice it used. It will endlessly convince oneself that it was the right thing to do. But one knows, it was out of bounds.
A false sense of call of duty on goodness.
It only broke a heart, trampled on a promise, and tore the cloth of friendship.
What was left for that unlucky one are days of broken glass and memories of things that will never come back.
And you...what do you have?
Doubts.
Fear.
And courage to head on...
They say you should take care of your friends...
If so, one can never have too many friends...only too many to take care of...
Open your eyes.
The rain has stopped.
It is still cold...but not too cold to open your letters.
Read them again.
They are good reminders that you are loved.
Loved beyond understanding.
Loved beyond betrayal.
Loved beyond doubt.
Loved beyond anything you could imagine.
And life isn't fair...no wonder some people hate you.
You got a bigger piece of share.
"I see the moon, and the moon sees me. God bless the moon and God bless me"
My friend commented on how beautiful a Lexus car is.
I shrugged my shoulders and closed my eyes...
I have better things to think and daydream about -- like ice cream and chocolates and this hunk on the billboard with its 6-pack abs glaringly and sinfully inviting me to think provoking thoughts that will ensure my disinheritance if ever my mom develop the ability to read minds..
My head buzzed from it all, so daydreaming was cut short.
I looked at my friend and I looked at him closely. He is still beaming about this Lexus car who passed us by. Was it white? I forget.
My thoughts flying on his earlier comment..and came to a conclusion... "rich men can be so boring sometimes"...
Only then did I realize that I was thinking aloud...
He heard me.
He looked at me briefly and breathed heavily.
He stopped talking.
"Damage control" in red neon lights flashing in my brain.
Ugh... now I have to make amends or i get booted out of the car...and I hate walking as much as I hate public transpo.
I opened my mouth and then tried to smile sheepishly...you know, that guilty smile you produce that looks more like of a sneer than a friendly gesture? it didn't help. He is still upset.
What I meant when I thought and stupidly said the statement is that, sometimes, people with money take better care over something that never loves them back. That's why they crave more attention,they are more emotionally unstable...and the more they get the more they need to have some more. They are insatiable.
They talk more about gadgets and gizmos but doesn't even have a clue about how to go about their personal relationships.
They know more the serial numbers of their engines rather than their anniversary dates.
They bank more on the bills they have compared to their emotional investment in friendships. They have more patience to read manuals rather than hear their partner's thoughts.
They'd rather break a marriage over properties rather than honoring their vows of "till death do us part".
They confuse people to be dispensable when its their "toys" are.
And they complain that they feel empty despite everything.
Isnt it obvious?
what would you expect?
you've built a whole relationship over material things that can neither talk or walk on its own, and you expect reciprocation?
you gave your all to something who can never give you anything expect maintenance receipts!
They spend millions over cars. Put too much attention to its details...but forget how to treat their drivers correctly.
Cars cannot reciprocate love...but drivers can offer loyalty.
but no, some prefer the perfect roar of the engine to that.
They are so proud of their mansions...and treat their furniture better than their helpers, not remembering the fact that their helpers make their houses, keep their beds, prepare their meals. A kind word is more than enough of a gesture to make them feel appreciated.
And loved workers respect their masters.
In a relationship, there should be the element of give and take...
Steel will always remain steel and will not develop arms to embrace you when you are cold. Wooden floors will not shift to keep you company when you feel at a loss.
Cars will not drive you to the emergency if you are in dire need of medical help.
but then again, friends and lovers can turn against you...but the uncertainty of it all give life a rush...and dynamo...a type of high that keeps you on your toes because you don't know what to expect...it's worth living when all your senses are heightened to a certain ride, be it good or bad...as there is no right or wrong in living it anyway...there is just monotony and surprises... why live in peace when all the dead are peaceful? You don't want to live your life the way it would be when you hit the grave right? (ok im rambling)
I'm not against having little vanities...I myself am vain with phones...
But the person on the other line have more weight than the mobile gadget.
what makes MY really phone special? someone special calls me...
so when i said, rich men are boring...
i meant...they are so used to caressing inanimate objects,
they sometimes treat you as one.
They forget you have your own opinion and gets surprised when you voice them out.
They forget that you do not have buttons to push and that one has a memory that keeps count of their mistakes.
They forget that unlike cars, we do not live on batteries and only god knows our expiration dates.
They get so stiff, that a sudden change of plans throw them off balance.
They are so used to hearing their own voice
that it startles they to hear somebody in the crowd can talk.
They panic when life takes a dive,
thinking everything is breakable when the only fragile thing in the basket is their ego.
They get confused when schedule is not on time.
They start to hate surprises.
And they talk about inanimate objects
its existence is the main reason why the world is beautiful.
Makes you wonder why.
Maybe it's because of how they live their lives, they actually have none?
of course there are exceptions...
and this is but a bias opinion. Feel free to sue me.
Looking at the screen, with my head pounding as if someone just smashed it to the wall, is not the easiest thing to do. Here I am, back from the grave, trying to get my other foot from the purgatory it's stuck in. Please take a moment to say "welcome back".
...My brain, as if eternally frozen is starting to hurt that I am tempted to get a rock, crack my head open, and stir it back to life with a stick.
It's during these times that I wonder why God made us like piggy ceramic coin banks. And like an eager little child, We shake our head, figure out what's inside, itches to get it opened...but once cracked...we become damaged and (almost) beyond repair. Being like this seems to be a smart way to almost prevent one from acting on certain curiosity and impulses, like cracking your pounding head, for example, with something hard.
Can you imagine if we had the ability to take off each part and scratch it to satisfaction like the way we pick our noses? The market would arguably be filled with absurd and odd looking containers and covers. Aisles and aisles of pouches for eyeballs in different colors and styles, containers specifically for the ears, mouth, fingers and knee caps -- (eooow)... and what about screws to put the detachable part in place? how about double sided tape for the flesh?
Ahhh... Cadavers will be more expensive! Gone are the cemetery days of burial and cremation. For once a detachable part is gone and lost, one just have to replace it. What a disaster it would be to walk out and go home only to find out that you've lost an arm along the way. Like the way we lose earphones...once we do, we just have to get a new pair...correct?
Ahhh... and would this be the time for slaughterhouses to shine? Instead of the greasy bloody warehouses we usually see, emerge a more sophisticated showroom and storage of cadavers and parts. Where a/c and refrigeration must be of the highest class. Hmmm....And a receiving area with flowers in colors and lights in yellowish hue to cause a warm effect for customers waiting in line to order a new appendage?
And gone are the days of cardboard slaughterhouses signages. In its place will rise a sign in neon lights that says "Body and parts for sale!" --- or a better one "Bodies from Finland and Germany for sale!"...Nokia Users will go for this one nyahahah! Do you think China can come up with a cheaper alternative? a semi-body part...maybe one shade lighter or darker...something that vibrates and with an lcd screen? Coolness hahah! This one, ladies and gentlemen, is THE red light district because this is THE ultimate flesh business.
Interesting don't you think? But what a disaster! For someone as careless as I, it would be a very expensive way to live. I mean an arm would cost a lot, I'd suppose, and if I lose an arm the way I lose my cellphones, I might as well just be dead...For the possibility to lose an arm means a possibility to lose a leg, a nipple, a finger, a toe...and what about my head! I certainly cannot function properly without it! Being the picker that I am, I am sure I'd be toying and nitpicking at it until it becomes lose...and God knows what will happen if it rolls off!
So I guess God did us a favor in creating us as we are. Vulnerable and in one piece--- without the choice of appendage exchanges upon will. What was I thinking asking for lego body parts?!...oh wait...I wasn't thinking that's why I was asking for it...my head hurts remember?
A recent conversation about illusions and the people who conjure them filled my humble bunk this afternoon. Pillows squashed, blankets in disarray, a mouth pouted, and everybody involved was feeling the heat of the "argument".
A discussion on illusions created by actors and prostitutes, so intense that it made the popcorn pop...except that there is no popcorn around.
A good actor can get angry at will on stage even if he is at the prime of his life -- driving a fast car, with a beautiful girlfriend, and a chest of, not money, but gold nuggets to feed his ferocious appetite for adventure and excitement. Even if he is, at the moment,the happiest idiot there is...and mind you, this idiot need not be dumb - but that is beside the point.
But when the lights turn on, and as the curtains go up, on the polished wooden floor of the theater stage he poses, times his breathing, concentrates his aura, and lets out a roar, that only angry heathens with broken hearts can let out.
The audience, taken by surprise, their eyes, round in anticipation, hearts beating fast with excitement, fearing the worst, and curious like cats--- what will this actor do next? They are fastened to their seats, almost not breathing, and definitely not blinking so as to not miss anything that's going to happen.
and the prostitute? no stage for them. but just the same... on the pavement, she poses, times her breathing in a rhythm that summons up mock courage. She effortlessly appears to create an aura that she will always be available...for the right offer, of course.
unlike the actors on stage, she has no screenwriters to polish her script, no make-up artist to blush her cheeks...but then again, her roles do not demand such extravagance.
For the right price, she can play the role of a doting, motherly girlfriend, a dominant vixen, and even a naive, schoolgirl virgin.
Both actors and prostitutes give life to the illusions of other people... actors animate the writer's story, prostitutes work on the need of the clients' illusion to be "loved".
So yes, both are the same...but both are different too.
The actor's audience, expect to see a new world on stage, knowing at the back of the their mind, the the actor is not really his character. They get amazed, they laugh, they cry, depending on the actor's talent. They criticize bad actors according to their act and love the best ones upon their perfect delivery of their lines. But actors do not closely interact with their audiences, in a way a prostitute does. Actors make up the illusion of make-believe but there has always been a clear, though it may not be a strong line between them and those who watch. The reviews of their acts are primarily centered on their act. They also become actors to fulfill themselves, they become actors because they know they can move the audience, and if not, they do training to achieve this.
But prostitutes do not train to become good prostitutes...They just get used to it. If they offend a client, they are bashed and treated shamelessly, insulted and embarrassed to the core of their being. To the men who rent them by the hour, who come shamelessly with offers of money to lure them into seduction, they are not seen as actors on stage are. They make a fantasy and fulfill the illusion of the client to his satisfaction, but their curtains do not fall down. Actors who are named David, assume their real names at the end of their play...Prostitutes are seen prostitutes even if they are not on the pavement anymore. Prostitutes moan for the pleasure of their clients in bed. Those moans may not be real, but those moments of being touched and entered and even "violated" are not fantasy per se. The clients subject them to real actions pretending that it is a play. After all, they paid the ticket to heaven.
Am I making sense? The actors change characters and his illusions evolve to satisfy the audience, and after a great performance, to satisfy themselves. On the other hand the prostitutes only have one for themselves...the illusion of freedom. That they can do whatever they want to the client to satisfy him as long as the price is right.
The actor's audience come to see what is in store for them. The prostitute's clients come with their fantasy expecting it to become real for a few moments at a price they can afford.
The audience looks. The clients invade. The audience anticipates. The prostitutes' clients aggressively take a step forward. The audience do not know the roles and the lines. The clients dictate it.
Can you say they are of the same? That they live an illusory life that is brittle, shallow and maybe somewhat superficial? Does that make the actor's life shallow and brittle and the prostitute's meaningful? ----I don't think so. Does that make the other better than the latter. ----I don't know.
Yes, they create illusions for themselves and for their audiences. But aren't we all, in one way or another, become actors and whores at some point of our lives for various causes and reasons, be it wrong or right? <---but that is beside the point, huh? And what's with the illusions? are they really "not real"? If it is a make-believe that someone can concoct, isn't the fact that it can be concocted, make it so much more a part of reality than not? <--- i know, out of topic. Anyway, The matter of differences is great and so are the similarities. Both play a role to satisfy, be it themselves or others.
Except that the first acts it, the other lives it. The end...or maybe not.
Wear the darkest clothing available. To accompany your dark thoughts and to burn a theme when you stick to the shadows of the cold night when you do an escape. Shadows become your bestfriend...the cold wind warming an even colder heart.
long strides to accompany deep thoughts, you sprint a long circle that sometimes lead you back to your own solace. They won't find you there.
But a dose of more than enough can sometimes satiate a hungry soul. You have come to do what you have wanted and find it to your liking...but not enough to make you want it. You look at it and find that it is still what it is...but the craving waned. The curve of hunger is not as as it once was. You've come to realize that it was what you just needed but you need it no more. And you open your hands to let it go. And you smile to yourself knowing it was one of the things you will always remember. And you see it slowly wave and turn as it finally jumps out of your reach. You have no sense of loss...it wasn't yours to begin with. You have no feeling of regret, it has served it's purpose. You don't run after it, it's meant to be free.
You walk away and it doesn't pain you to look back. It did not change to hurt you...but there is change within. You will always laugh when you remember how it tickled your sense of longing...because the longing is no more there. It waves and you wave back. It will call you and you have no problem answering it. It will still stir your interest but you've ceased to become its mistress. You were never sure if you were anyway... and you will giggle at the irony of it all. And as you taste the adventures in your tongue and smell the sweetness of having it with you for a while, you sigh...knowing it was just what you had wanted and needed. It was exactly what you had wished for... and you do not care if the dream had ended...All that's important is that it happened.
My lips are numb. My fingers are too stiff. My eyes are dry. My mind too weak to find excuses. My spirit too disillusioned to even dream.
So this is how one feels when one is at a loss. When one sees reality all too plainly. When one gets stabbed with the sharp truth.
Can I ask for immunity? From the pain? From the mounting hurt? From the fear that chokes?
Can I borrow? a shallow laugh to wipe the tears away. a hallow hug to make the burden a little lighter? a reckless moment where I can run so I can chase my floating dreams. a crayon to color the moments of solitude. a longer sleep to oblivion to wash the nagging truth.
Can I, just for once... pass through walls? ...through people? ...through time? to wander aimlessly... to touch the stars... to burn with the sun... to laugh with the waves... to conquer dragons... to name new lands... to create new worlds...
humming silence wanders across the room and beyond. Along with it is my roaming mind, chasing the red diaries of the sane, prevailing beyond the hateful reality of not being able to vanish upon will. All the while preparing the sheets... tying them together, making sure it is roped correctly, tied tightly to the window, as I prepare to jump to the little escape the world is offering.
Outside, I see no one familiar. Outside, I will not be suffocated with lies that once drove me to madness. Outside, no walls to abide and no bricks to scamper from...no cup to pour my blood on...no boxes to store my heart...No smoke to make me cry.
Outside...where there is nothing to hold on to and everything is new. Where the strings no longer has its magic and the words pure and true.
I've hit a wall. I'm doing a project where I have identified the goal but am lost in terms of where to begin its execution. I've made the draft and written concepts and has partially completed the project design. Or something...whatever you may call it. But I'm lost. And am trying to retrace my steps slowly by identifying factors and returning to the reasons "WHY" I've decided to accept this challenge. And it helped...but not enough to push me forward. And so here I am fiddling with the keyboard hoping for a strike of genius to smack me straight in my face.
Sometimes, when I am too buried in the things I do, I get lost in the swarm of information I receive that I sometimes lose my ability to interpret them. When one is overwhelmed, one can only be at awe...and sometimes...being at awe for a long time makes me just do that, be in awe. Wide eyed...open-mouthed...and probably salivating.
When this happens, I remind myself of Boyd's OODA loop.
Introduced by a friend years ago, I've managed to clasp on it until it consumed me. But this does not mean I've reached the depth of Boyd's "drestroy and create" philosophy where I can chew on his words without blinking. Nope -- I'm still struggling. Still trying to learn the meaning of his words and still trying to engage such practice in my reality.
Me struggling, and struggling some more to understand Boyd's strat ironically gives me a breather. It reminds me to step back and to re-orient myself correctly. It screams at me that I might be worrying over the wrong thing. It scolds me that my decisions may not be valid because my observation is at fault.
The project material that seem impossible to understand is now being read with fresh eyes. Things suddenly make sense. Concepts emerge from the once invisible underlying pattern. I've ceased to become a paralyzed idiot because of the material's impressive qualities...but it doesn't mean that surprises stop there.
What do I mean? It all goes back to the frame of mind. That solutions are not the best answers available but rather, solutions are the RIGHT answers to the problem at hand. And you can only get to the right answers when you begin with the correct questions.
In questioning wrongly, even the best answers will render useless. But correct questions can only be asked if you are not afraid to destroy pre-conceived notions and structures. And this does not only apply to the material at hand. It applies to our orientation. And our orientation shape our observations. That's why conventional thinking often leads to conventional reasoning.
For example, there are many ways to get a five. Instantly our orientation would suggest the conventional thinking 4+1 and 2+3.
But isn't 1+1+1+1+1 a 5 ? or 2+1+1+1 = 5 ? The addition need not consist of 2 whole numbers only, right?
isn't 2.5 + 2.5 = 5 or 2 1/5 + 2 1/5 = 5 ? an example that it need not be only whole numbers too.
and the equation is not necessarily addition alone as 15-10 = 5
The mind has to broaden its perspective for it to adapt. Yes, it will be difficult. Yes, it will make you cry sometimes in frustration. Yes, you will have to understand your way of thinking first before you can scrutinize other brains and the treasure it beholds. To readily reject things you cannot understand may be the worst thing you can do to impede your growth. Not only in the aspect of work and projects but as a person.
A person who cannot adapt in the constant changes of the world is a person whose mind is not willing to understand. He will be most likely to get stuck... and his knowledge, once proven effective, may become obsolete in the process unless he learns to integrate it in the new system of the "present".
He will be most likely to be scared of changes because it meant destruction of his conventional frame. In the end, he gets disengaged in the present reality, his decisions ineffective, and his actions useless.
And this is because his mind, in its unwillingness to understand, has underestimated (or may not be aware of) the complexities involved. And many people have been killed because of this arrogance. To underestimate immediately is to be misled. To be misled puts one in a disadvantage. To be in such position would most likely bring you failure.
So when you've come to a conclusion that seems to be different from the usual, remind yourself that a unique concept will always be radical. It will not always be accepted because it will most likely go against the norm. No, you are not rejecting the "norm"...actually, it is a good place to start. It can be a point of reference. But the norm is not always what it seems. The norm can be very deceiving. Like the OODA loop not really being a loop to begin with.
It's like drugs. You get addicted to it. You cannot say no. You get angry for no reason. You get so consumed that you feel lost in your madness. And when the hype is all gone, you feel there is no reason for living anymore...or to get out of bed to do something stupid.
There are some days when i am so certain about what i want. Some days, I just don't know what to do with myself. And so i try to creep in into the depths of what remains inside to justify all the sudden hurting i feel. There is nothing to do? I feel useless. It's these times that I feel neglected. It's these times that I am annoyed for no apparent reason. Be it the sudden banging of the door. The shrieks of the neighbor. The slow careful steps outside my bedroom door.
Left on my own, slouching in bed, worrying over useless things and imagining even more useless things, I tend to find peace. In the oddest sense of feeling useless and exuberant to be able to laze around, I find a serenity that my working days has robbed me. Growing up with a mom to fuss over me and a nagging nanny who directly reports to the parental authorities, I find it hard to find a special space of my own to think my tinker thoughts. Now, with no mom and no nanny to invade my personal sanctum, unleashed and free to do whatever that was not allowed before, I find myself confused and with no direction. So many things to do and wanting to do it all at once ---- it is making me dizzy.
I tell myself, growing up is like learning how to walk. One step at a time. One single step towards whatever you want. One single step towards experimentation and idiosyncrasy. And if the steps are proving to be slow ones, hop and jump, and even roll. Laugh while you're at it. Stomp if it frustrates you. Be careless if need be. Just avoid being chained again. Refuse to be tied to anything. Leave whatever that entails imprisonment. Cry when you want. Forget if things got too hurtful. Take pills if you cannot sleep. Do not growl. You don't have to be ugly to look tough...but it helps.
and if the world got too noisy, I remind myself that I can always retreat to my own secret hiding place where no one will be admitted. If the world got too rowdy, let them fight among themselves. If the world is starting to get smaller, find another planet and alien to play with.
You don't have to conform. You don't have to follow. You play by your own rules. Be polite to the nasty and be patient to the idiots. Observe. Understand. and play with people intelligent enough to understand your game.
Be silly. Avoid buses when driving. Get a license. and don't stop learning how to cook.
Back from my mom's abode and facing the pc again. It's not raining, but im shivering inside. Emotions that I cannot express are cartwheeling inside my chest and tummy. I want to laugh and cry at the same time. My fingers are stiff from these tumultuous feelings and my feet are cold.
I'm not the best partner in the world, I know. And certainly I'm not getting the "most romantic lover" award for the 2009. But when I love...I really love. And so when I hurt...I really get hurt.
I am scared to give myself wholly, he may not take care of it. I might be left with nothing when he leaves me. I anticipate rejection even before I open myself to the other. And all it takes is one serious mistake. One stupidity. One carelessness to burst my fantasy bubble. I always compare my relationships (be it romantic or not) to crystal glasses.When the glass breaks, you can always try to piece it up together...but it will never be the same. If it breaks, it breaks...and you get a new one.
I find it useless to risk cutting myself patching a sharp broken glass back together again...You cannot do it anyway...with tears in your eyes and numb fingers...with deafening silence that cuts your heart in two...what can you do with a tired soul and a bleeding heart? nothing. Not one useful thing.
Every time I tell friends that are not from Davao that fireworks are banned here, I always get a disbelief reaction.
Oh well, it might sound strange but severed fingers and appendages due to stupid miscalculation of whether "to throw now or not" and "to throw where" (the deym firework) is just not part of the party plan here.
We get zero dismembered limbs from judas belt -->one of the most powerful firecrackers I've heard of. If you are unfamiliar with it...it looks like a long belt with strings of small powder wrapped in a cute way. With more than a hundred cute packets of sulfur in a string that goes off endlessly once you've light it up.
It is quite obvious that the genius who made this type of "disaster" is familiar with the "domino effect". However, in this case, instead of pushing the dominoes, you light the firecracker...and so it goes until it ends. It won't stop to see if you have severed a finger or two... If you stupidly wrapped it in your neck for a fur-like effect, it won't pause to even look at your head blow off...and it might not even be over when your head hits the ground. It follows no other schedule aside from its own. It will not apologize for dismembering any part of your body. Chances are, it might sue you for being there and possibly softening its effect because it had to hit your appendage or head. It will not forgive anti-climax factors...like you. Holidays are supposed to be a blast...It frowns on such... If you are...you will suffer.
If you hate your life -- arrange it with this dude. He will gladly end it for you...festively...don't forget to shout merry chrismas, ok.
If you hate your life and your neighbor -- this dude will make sure your neighbor feels it...You blow yourself near the hated neighbors' yards...pieces of your flesh will go to their private spaces...and believe me, another sight of fresh meat will make them puke even if they change houses after. Who knows, your flesh, pound by pound...so fresh in their eyes, might turn them into eternal vegetarians...Fish may not be included in their future menu even. That is one point for you... Sad thing is...you can only do it once...well if you blow yourself piece by piece, maybe it is possible to do it alot of times...or you can gather all your enemies in one boat when you do it...make them eat ice cream...make sure they are licking it from their cones when you do this "blowing" thing. Open mouths is better than open yards right?
or plan a party...offer sushi. Hehe.
Ok. I will stop. This is morbid and I am smiling too much -- which is sick. Oh well...Merry Christmas everyone ^.^
good morning world. why did you wake me up? you could have at least left me alone for a few minutes. i want to go back to sleep and forget about the fact that i slept with a bruised part of my body plus my back hurts and a few places of my body is just plain sore. Despite the fact that my bed right now is big, cozy and in a state of disarray (to which I have no intention of arranging). I'm a mess myself -- tousled hair held in place by a ballpoint, hand with visible "paid" mark, sleepy face half painted in chocolate ice cream (becuase of "gluttonic" reasons hehe), and feet up in the air for no apparent reason. My shoulder hurts a lot from the position i was in when i was asleep and i kept on yawning that makes my nose grow big. sheesh. talk about major mutation. I morphed into something my mother would call "a disaster"... or is it "hopeless" ... i think i remember her saying I'm born "a disaster" and I've mastered the sophistication of being "a headache" -- what can i say? --patience is a virtue, the main virtue that regulate mothers and their impulses to choke their children in their height of tantrums. I'm sensitive though. I may not be emotional sometimes but a good drama flick can make me soggy -- someone dies in the movie and i bawl. I connect. I try to not disturb people (except for very few close ones). I seldom contradict (unless you're really asking for it). I sympathize. and lastly, i'm nobody's pain in the ass except for those people who loves me. *smiles.
What a way to go. He couldn't have picked the best time... It is perfect. Everybody is celebrating the dead. He instantly becomes a celebrant. But is it worth celebrating? A friend expires and we are left behind with nothing but memories of him. Memories that are not even accurate. Memories to be visible only in words as we write and talk about an expired friend. no...expire is demeaning. retired would be a suitable word. or is it?
death is as common as can be. everyobody I know is always related to someone dead. We, ourselves are going that way...But it still sends shivers everytime I am informed of a death, especially of a loved one. Confronted with this reality, we tend to question our mortality. We look for ways to validate the fact that we are living the life we want. or the life we thought we want.
*Sigh. suddenly, just knowing we wont see him again, instantly I immediately want to see him. Pathetic. Pathetic and too late. Does he know that I see him special? Does he know I see him as a good friend?
the answer holds no value now.... ---right? questions and answers are for people who can question and answer...I wish the opposite though, but that would mean, we'd have to bring him back to life... please -- find someone who can arrange.
green and orange lights is constantly distracting my reflective mood. But Roberto and Bincatot is here and both are a distraction themselves...in the best sense (both good and bad). Roberto just recently asked me what do i need? Never mind the premise of such question. Hmmm...so what do i really need? a backscratch and a footrub. My warm bed, my books, and the incandescent glow of my night lamp...
(...continued in davao)
After being in manila the nth time -- I still feel lost here. (Oh well, i get lost anywhere regardless anyway). It's ok to get lost -- but to feel lost is another thing. Maybe because I never really accepted Manila as home. It never has been -- don't think it will be in the future. But who knows...nobody really knows anything. I don't even find it relevant to ask in the first place.
but somewhere along the way, after the nth time i got annoyed because of no particular reason, I found me a little home sweet home. In the 5th floor of azotea de bel air are 3 bunks for the urban tiger like me. Clean and fresh, cozy and vibrant...warm people that treat you like family -- exactly what i need. It's a treasure in the heart of makati -- and in front of tito chito's watering hole.
I still find manila impossibly noisy and crowded
there are some things that you just have to surrender to. I was in Agave when I first wrote the first few paragraphs of this blog. The lights, I bet, are still blinking in its orange and green glow there, the dj must be probably playing a different set of music in the same volume range.-- enough to jumble your already mixed up brain but a few notches short of making you a permanent deaf. A group or two must be crowding their tables outside with maybe a loner in a corner drowning silent tears with a bottle of beer... maybe a chick with a margarita, trying to get drunk for the first time. But one girl is missing...ME. I'm not there seeking my solitude amidst the loud melody of their music...I bet Roberto is somewhere in Merville doing things I would probably be doing if I was him. I don't think Agave will miss me... But the lights might notice that a fan is missing its glorious display of oragne and green tint. Do you think it will look for me?
Long distance relationships is not challenging...it is a challenge.
It happens when crazed-and-intimately-attached- lovers decided to be in a binding relationship regardless of the existing endless water and mass of earth sitting like a plump fairy between them. But this plump fairy is not very accommodating with wishes, it is hard as a rock, deep as the abyss, and frigidly cold as that raw meat in the freezer.
It doensn't let you cross it for free. Arline tickets and cruise packages are extremely expensive that the word "filthy rich" and "robbery" comes to mind often.
It won't even let your voice pass without a fee.
It has numerous toll gates.Conflicting bodies of government.And landmines waiting for some fool to play with it.
Not to mention warring parties with deadly nuclear weapons that can destroy the earth 7 times. Duh. You can only destroy the earth once. Once it blow, everything disintegrates rendering the other 6 useless... hoookay? well if , and only if, by some miracle everything disintegrates and the 6 remained intact, nobody will be alive then to miraculously push the button of destruction once again.
The END-OF-THE-WORLD episode of our lives can only happen once, and its so absolute that nobody will be left to say "Bravo! Magnifico! that blow really blew me!". So let me tell it in advance to the genius, whoever he/she may be, wherever he/she may be located.
"congratulations for making sure everybody die an equal death, may we all rest in peace"
With all these lunatics between us, storms and climate changes, taxes and VATs, not to mention wild animals on the prowl, both four and two-legged...long distance relationships become a rock-climbing, off-road expedition of mixed emotions and frustrations that sends us crashing head on.
And so, lovers' break down because others just break away.
But does distance really have to do with it?
I've seen couples not torn by different timezones and geographical obstacles act as if they have a black hole existing between them. One can be so near yet so out of reach at the same time.
But blame it to the world becauase the world doesn't complain.
Never mind that our pride is more difficult to climb than its highest mountain.
Never mind that we become fickle minded, swaying more than the wind that courses through the trees.
Never mind that our anger is far more bitter than the storm that wrecks the fields.
Never mind that our eyes wander like a stranger sometimes.
Never mind that we sometimes take the slightest offense as a mock reason to create an impenetrable wall to those closest to us.
Never mind that we sometimes create our own world where no one is allowed to set foot upon.
Never mind that we sometimes wage an invisible battle where enemies are meant to lose no matter what.
Blame it to the world because it can only whistle its heartaches.
because its rain drowns its pains and tears.
because it survived the weathering changes of time, making it even stronger and beautiful as lovers continue to grow apart.
Yes, blame the world as our madness takes us to the edge of sanity as we collectively create and destroy cities in the name of pride and love.
But if you really want to test your capacity to endure a long distance relationship, be a priest.
Submit yourself to the "holy marriage" that requires absolute obedience and fidelity.
Where your partner is omnipotent that sneaking out to party at night and going home with a lame excuse of overtime will be just that, LAME.
And arguments are out of the question.
So jealous that being everywhere is not even enough that spies and assassins in the form of demons and angels are being sent and instructed to remind you of your sins with visions of hell to instill fear in your heart.
A partner that neither believes in telephones nor customer service.
A partner you cannot woe with chocolates and flowers.
A Partner that you cannot shout at (well, you can always try).
A Partner you cannot stand to lose.
Where communication will always be like an exercise of patience because it's like being on hold forever with intermittent flashes of light to daze you with constant subtle reminders and threats of hell sung in a melody of a song that is longer than "stairway to heaven" to keep you company while you wait for the operator to come.
It is not a long distance relationship -- it is an impossibility-made-possible relationship.
Where distance does not only exist, but another plane of reality stands in the middle of it all. This time the fairy is far more cruel in its collection of taxes. Where you pay with your everything including your sanity.
And unlike the plump fairy called THE WORLD, it will only allow you to point your finger towards yourself --blaming your imperfect existence is the only option.
Bummer if God doesn't really exist.
Double bummer if he does and you committed adultery.
I find myself thinking about the brown muddy water one finds on a clay ground after a bashful of rain. I do not want to dwell on the reason why I suddenly felt the impulse of thinking such weird thoughts... as I am more pre-occupied of the feelings it creeps inside me whenever a picture of a puddle returns to mind.
No, I am not easily put off by dirt and nor do I squirm when I see mud. There have been times when the warmth of the wet earth between my toes soothed my aching feet and calmed my bruised soul as I faced an endless road with only my thoughts to keep me company. Where my companions are also busy keeping their shaky spirit sturdy as they wipe their brows with the back of their hand.
The thoughts of those long walk makes me smile and sigh at the same time. But the mud between my feet were alies... friend to the weary traveller... comforter of battered thighs and weathered bodies...
The golden color of the earth as it squish between my toes changes hues and everytime I try to look at my feet, I see more of the mud than of the flesh I am made of. But ashes to ashes, dust to dust -- or so the saying goes...aren't we all, in one form or another, as muddy and as dirty? just like the earth we step on?
When we take our last breath and our carcass thrown to the ground... after the last rite symbolizing our return to the womb of mother nature, don't we all crumble to become the same dust and mud we walk on? are we not every bit earthy as every bit of soil that makes up the earth we live in?
and so I tell myself, why feel uncomfortable of the thought of a muddy puddle?
I don't know.
It is one of those moments where we feel something we cannot explain. I bet you also had that experience of just feeling something strange,
like being happy without a reason,
feeling fear without knowing why,
feeling uncomfortable when there is no obvious reason to be so...
and you just do...
You don't ask why...
sometimes, you don't even stop to acknowledge the feeling...
happened so suddenly... so fast, that it throws you on a wheeling spree of emotions that only you could understand because YOU feel it.
But you understand and you don't understand at the same time. Coz you can't seem to find the right words to explain it... You cannot assign a language to verbalize it. And every attempt to verbally reconstruct that feeling you cannot explain always end in failure...you find it to be a feeble move...for to bottle something that is fusing profusely, knotting you almost is physical discomfort, even to the brink of pain...to bottle something that makes you wanna explode...is just an impossibility...
and so you end up frustrated. You feel alienated from the people you want to share it with. Misunderstood by the few who tried to reach out... Everyone feeling disappointed and useless.
And so when you feel that confusing mixture of feelings, that cartwheeling emotions that threatens to destroy your little comfortable bubble... you tend to keep quiet.
Lost in your own thoughts. Drowned in your silence. Overwhelmed by the experience... Regretting your inability to patch others in the moment. Disappointed how they cannot get to you.
You feel alone but not lonely.
You become tired but somewhat satisfied.
You become fearful, because the unknown always bring the fear in us.
Surprises, good or bad,and that uncertainty of feeling and not feeling, knowing and not knowing, living and not existing. Of being fearful and intrigued, of being bashed and battered and feeling satisfied despite of it all, always make our hearts jump.
Just as the muddy water and the thought of it splashing as a pair of feet steps on it makes me hold my breath, I find myself bathed in this crazy experience of finding and not finding -- not that I know what it is that I am not looking for in the first place.
A splash of mixed and construed emotions that makes me want to run for the fear of being mad. But for sure, I haven't lost my mind (or have i?)...although, it is a possibility that it was my mind who have lost me.
Incapable of understanding the moment I am in and the experience I find myself swimming in the middle of, could it be that it decided to leave me behind to wander off towards normal things it can grasp on?
Like me, my mind fears everything it cannot understand.
Everything it cannot accept just cannot be true... or so it insists.
Until proven...sanity must be grounded on a level whereby it can be defined, determined, dissected and discussed.
The swirl of emotions and the shock of understanding and not understanding, of feeling and not feeling, and merger of being there but not really existing...is...like groping in a deep puddle of muddy murky brown water.
You instantly fear, you suddenly think about things you normally wouldn't think about...after all, you do not know what vile things plagues the bottom and the bottom, you can only feel but not see.
You y try to guess knowing you cannot fully know.
You grope and you shiver with excitement of promised unspoken adventures as your mind opens a chest of treasures of endless possibilities while it dictates that the unknown almost always cannot be trusted.
The mind will step on it, just as the pair of feet will put its weight on the brown slimy soil... splashing the brown water sideways, parting the earthy paste...but no matter how many times the feet tries to part it, it seeps back to its place in the earth. Just as the mind might try to discern, dissect and understand, the confusion of having contradictory emotions will always find a way to throw the balance of our once stabel thoughts.
The mind, like the feet, may try to feel the warmth the murky muddy earthy confusion of the moment offers... but neither can stand eachother for so long.
No, the feet can only stand the mud for so long before it starts to itch, before it starts to look for the fresh refuge of water... And no, it doesnt matter that they are of the same composition. It doesnt matter that the feet that moves in the muddy puddle is made of the same earth the brown slimy mud is made of...
So no, the mind might feed from the mixture of emotions and experiences it receives, sharpening its understanding of how to go through the world...but just as the feet would shake the muddy existence of the brown earth off it, the mind will find a way to construct a sane explanation of things and feelings that it is confronted with...It will try to shake off the confusion and disturbing emotions unti it succeeds.
yes, until it shakes off that uncertainty of feeling and not feeling, knowing and not knowing, living and not existing. Of being fearful and intrigued, of being bashed and battered and feeling satisfied.
Don't ask me why.
It's just feels so.
It just seems right that way.
For it is also not right for mud to overly fester on the feet, nor do abstract emotions to forever distract the sanity of thought...
Have you ever felt the walls are closing in on you?
and that the air has become thicker with the all their thoughts of you that you feel like throwing up?
That's what I felt these past few weeks...
I'm just tired. Plain tired of having to pay with my everything just becuase they've decided to hand everything to me in a silver platter...something I am grateful and ungrateful for...
so when an opportunity to run presented itself, I ran..and ran away so fast I was dizzy for a moment.
Now I'm in a strange place with few familiar faces to call on to...but I will let go of that too -- then I'll start anew.
where nobody knows me.
nobody knows about who I am.
Nobody knows what I can do. --where I am but a face in the crowd and a stranger on the street. Where nobody can disturb my peace amidst the noisy crowded places I've sulked myself in. Where I can sigh in peace and where nobody is breathing on my neck.
I have lived a full life, yes. They have made sure of that...
but this time... regardless of the mud and muck, the darkness and uncertainty --I'm gonna live my life-- not becuase they said so -- but becuase I chose to.
In my own space. Own time. Own pace.
Note to myself -- you have less than five days to linger in oblivion---come back before the 10th -- you have a scheduled shoot to do.
Rain is heavy and is making me more reflective than usual.
Heavy rains do that. I like the pitter patter rythm it creates as I silently hum it inside my head. and yes, as usual, I stare at my wall to the point of almost burning a hole into it.
I am twenty-five and as I look back in my life, I've pretty much accomplished what I wanted to accomplish. In fact, I always get what I want, despite the complicated chains of relationships and choices that I tie myself with.
So what else do I want?
What is there to do?
What am I to do with my life?
I could easily answer those -with a quick, superficial, and thoughtless reaction in verbal translations. It is so easy to get carried away and in the course of answering those questions -- it is, as always, so easy to forget the reason of asking them in the first place.
but --- what is the REAL question?
am I asking myself the right ones?
Am i concerning myself with the issues that must be prioritize?
is it worth it?
Four years of Philosophy -- and still, critical thinking on my part requires effort.
The convenience of common understanding and stock social definitions are so conveniently within reach that I have to disengage myself - and disengage so in a very frustrating way to be effective even in my personal reflections.
My prejudice of things and the past knowledge that I have - both voluntarily and involuntarily - acquired is just making it hard for me to see things in its naked truth.
And so with my life as I question it, I cannot help but look back and define me with my past experiences and choices --- but is that all there is to me and my life?
Am I to be defined by my past and is hopelessly bound to be molded through and through by my future?
Will I always be an unfinished present project of the universe-- wrecking havoc and change as I grow and consume life the way I am doing so right now? -- or am I, really?
In college, I've dreamt of social change and I've worked for it through my arts. I've learned to bend my body to adjust to the social curriculum of my community. I've learned to flick my fingers at the beating of the drum as I find my rythm and balance in this social dance I was born into. And as I listen to the music, as I watch the people gaping and in awe with my movements, as I felt the hot lights burning my skin... I noticed that they cannot see beyond the stage.
They loved my dance but they do not care to understand what it is for.
They follow my steps but stays only with the groove they are familiar with.
Anything new, anything strange -- anything they do not know -- they see as dangerous.
And as the beat became faster, the steps harder, and the actions more complicated -- they didn't care to follow. They stayed in their comfort zone, smiling and clapping -- but nonetheless disengaged at the experience, not caring to join -- not bothering to step in, promising support -- but always at a distance -- feigning sympathy, pretending to know with their textbooks in hand, with memorized theories... with complicated research citations...
How can you understand the rythm of hunger if you haven't experienced starvation? How can you say you know how it feels to be poor when you have an abundant life?
How can you say you care -- when in your eyes -- all you see are strangers doing even stranger things.
Yes, some changes happened -- some social shake here and there that rocked the arrogant struture and composition of certain institutions. but then again -- it was but a little pebble that created a series of ripples in the pool of tears...
My performance has come to an end -- and as the lights died down...as I took my bow, as I see them leave -- I found my dance to be shallow -- and I found myself asking -- "did I do the right thing?"
All these doubts -- all these concerns--- all these questions, for a certain, cannot be answered on my own. Like the rain, it needs the earth to catch it. The water needs to kiss the soil, to flow within the roots of every tree, to be savored by every being, to round the grounds back and forth till it evaporates itself to become it once was...a dripping liquid phase of life.
one's questions must then be like rain.
fluid and ever flowing...
because -- Baseless questions can hurt the soul.
Unanswered queries can burn the mind.
the Wrong type of asking can only bury one in doubt...
Redundant ones hardens the heart...
So what do I want? Where do I begin? What to do?
**Looking -- waiting -- so far -- no answers are in sight.
Gettin ready for the weekend's steel fencing. Of course the doctor said something about laser -- wow! she just know how to make things sound even more complicated and -- err painful. Thank God for the discovery of Anesthesia, i wonder how some treatment, like -- ehem -- surgery?, would advance had anesthesia was not discovered. Hospital corridors would be like a clean prototype of a standard A slaughterhouse.
"Welcome! to the world of bleating patients and growling physicians. **in this case -- you'd be thanking heavens for the invention of A/C... coz at least, u can bleat in your own privacy as the doctor sticks his hand on your stomach by inserting his finger on your nose. waaahhh... oh wait -- anesthesia comes before a/c -- hahah!
anesthesia was introduced around 1840s. Before that, patients are expected to whimper in pain or suck it up like a gentleman. "Uhh, excuse me Mr. Bunny, but I have to take your intestines out to clean them -- it's gonna be uncomfortable -- but you'll live" ...toinks -- in this case, id choose death.
This makes me grateful to my mom -- SHE, who gave birth to me in this era and age of aesthetics and superficiality. Where everything is ready to wear and over the counter. Where there is beer to cure certain heartaches and TV to entertain the sad. Where giving birth can be as easy as one-two-three (errr or something... it is not life if it ain't painful in some ways,y ou know...and giving birth is giving forth new life -- literally =P)
Well, may I gently remind you that I am a mother of FOUR. I mean, how could you expect me to give birth without any pain medication. It's gonna be like giving birth to a watermelon... OR---NOOOOO ! -- it's gonna be like spurting out a condo building, with Olympic-sized swimming poolS and parking spaces (with parked SUVs and buses), not to mention rooftops and balconies...who knows! the annoying guard with his gun, along with the town's carabao might come out too! waaaah!
In the olden times, I think they get you drunk or use opium -- great... a legitimate reason to be a drunk or an addict.
After grunting a whole community of soon-to-be scientists and world leaders, you'd be lucky to survive with anything intact...
"oh you'd sew them for me? -- no thank you" --
"you insist?! thank you but no --- im fine with the gaping hOle in my stomach-- the doctor slashing it with an axe did a good job of introducing pain, I don't need you poking and poking me with that needle you just heated in the furnace...."
" oh no --please, I'll kill you if you touch me!!!"
"MAAAA!"
I'm a scaredy cat when it comes to hospitals.
My brother does medical missions every year and i could just remember the stacks of supply in my dad's home. Stacks of IVs, catether, needles, meds, etc...that hasn't been used and was just stocked there till the next mission schedule. It was, in my eyes then, very very interesting -- but when you have someone who knows how to manipulate the syringe and is doing so to instill fear in you -- it can be traumatizing as well.
Those wittle machines you see in the ER are but an appliance we commonly use at home. That's why i feel like im home in ER -- no -- when I say I feel like its home, it's not the same thing as being comfortable. It just means, I'm no stranger to the apparatus -- but am unfriendly still towards it.
Those machines and apparatus could be so cold sometimes, invading your inner most privacy that sometimes it makes you think if it is actually reading and translating your thoughts in various frequencies.
Spent half of my life in hospitals where my check up interval were spaced between weeks and admission is a constant requirement every month. My sorry ass stays in the hospital bed for days and I go home almost always not knowing what really happened.
The doctor dont talk to me...my mom doesn't, my dad is somewhere in the States, my brother doesnt know anything and I didn't ask...
I don't know why -- confinement seems as if its the normal thing to do before- a small fever, a gentle cough, difficulty in breathing -- often results to a cbc test and IV insertion with half of my family and neighbors worried to death... sheesh.
I remember I was admitted during an exam week -- and it was the finals... and I remember, almost crawling my way to the 5th Floor -- for someone who can't even stand straight- that was not a very enthusiastic experience for me...needless to say, I was not a happy camper when I reach my destination. Oh how did I manage to walk? i wasn't walking -- my ex husband dragged me to insanity till i budged a little...
And so with my exploits in the white halls of the sick, I am happy, I'm visiting a dentist this sunday. At least, her office is not white, and it is always full of cheerful people. Except for that monstrous needle she needs to poke my gums with...I'm fine...--well --if only she could take that stainless thingie she has on her platter of torture, I'd be ok. oh-- and If only she'd do it silently without the light chatter coz it makes me nervous, she might not be concentrated enough -- *breathes deep -- inhale.exhale. It's gonna be alright.
I think I'm in good hands... (but I'll drag my mom with me...just to be sure.)
