I just got home from a Boys' Night Out.
No, I'm no lesbian and I am totally not against homosexuality.
I just often find myself drinking in the company of my male friends. And when I say friends, I mean real ones. Tenderly demeaning, protective, objective yet loving male friends. No hanky-panky nonsense or friends with benefits scenario. Friends. Genuine male buddies.
It is a fact that when it comes to friends, I jell better with the male ones. Girly-girl friends are just.. I don't know. I have girly-girl friends, I can count them with my fingers on one hand and I love them to death. But I think the girl world is just full of the drama, subjectivity, glitz and glamor.
Having guy friends provided me with a sense of balance. I owe my sense of humor to them. I learned to be crass and objective when it comes to love and life. During most of the toughest times in my personal life, I called on those dudes for guidance. They helped me get through most of my obstacles without shedding too much tears. They presented to me everything I needed to know about men, too much information that I started becoming cynical whenever a guy makes the moves on me. Ironically, my guy friends taught me how to be a woman.
But sadly, instead of appearing as one of the boys, there are others who misconstrue my affinity with these dudes. My long, curly hair had numerous threats last year from girls who were after the hearts of my male friends. An ex called my male buddies as the Backstreet Boys for standing by me during our toughest confrontation. And because of that, I decided that the next boyfriend has to understand why I have male friends. But unfortunately, no stranger could hit on me when I'm with them. Crap.
Side story: Earlier, somebody hit on me. They simply shooed him off by saying that I was the girlfriend of one of our friends. Normally, that would be all right but that guy was handsome. Gorgeous, even! I asked him why they didn't let the guy approach me. My buddies simply said that the stranger had something else in mind. Whatever. Hello singlehood for another five years.
So yes. It was another Boys' Night Out. Another night of bad-ass and nasty jokes that often made me wonder whether they were forgetting that I was a girl.
2.25.2011
2.24.2011
Of Whores And Muses
God knows how much I miss writing.
The other day I was talking to a friend about how much I needed a muse, someone to drive words into my head and propel me to pick up a pen and put these words into writing. In that conversation, I realized that if I had a writing pre-requisite, it would be a person I could draw my inspiration from.
It is no secret. I started writing because I wanted to document the daily accounts of my admiration for The Boy back when I was only 12, awkward, naive and foolish. I grappled for words that could describe how his eyes piercingly looked into mine. Or how I seemed to have held my breath while walking with him from the campus gate to the jeepney stop. And especially that ineffable, explosive feeling when I saw him starting to like someone else. This inspiration I drew from him is the same one that I siphoned for every school paper article, essays for contests and projects and even for his own thesis. And by night, I documented each memory in my diary up until a decade later, when we, all grown-up and tainted with the uncertainties of this world, decided to part ways. For more than a decade, The Boy was my muse.
And now, this. A daily urge to write that cannot be quenched. I realized it was not The Boy that I longed for. It was the madness that I wanted so badly to translate into words.
As I went on talking to that friend, because once I start a topic I cannot simply go astray, he suggested someone. Prince Caspian. The one person who has totally made 2011 already an enchanting year. I tried but it was to no avail. I had no memory of how it felt while looking into his eyes. Piercing? Mesmerizing? Turning my knees into jelly? I wondered what his presence would be like. What his scent was. How his skin felt against mine. How it would feel to spend a day together and part ways in the wee hours of dawn. I picked up a pen and tried to doodle. I ended up writing my name in different fonts.
My friend laughed at what I said. He thinks I am silly. If I am, then how would he call my writer friend who has to cook before he writes? Or the one who listens to The Beatles as he scribbles along? Or, most especially, the one who needs to get laid before he finishes a piece? Lunatics, that would be an apt term for them. Us, I mean.
I won't last a day without writing. I would rot. And without love, I would also decay. I have to write about love to keep me alive.
And with this, my friend offered. "Use me."
I closed my eyes and thought of him. Me and him. Our friendship. Our wondrous, inexplicable, non-obligatory, organic and serendipitous friendship. To my surprise, things came crossing my mind. One after another. Not merely things but words. Sentences. Paragraphs. I smiled.
For months, I struggled with writing. I needed a push, a motivation, someone to call my muse. And now, here is someone I could use. A meantime inspiration. An understudy. A spare tire. No, I haven't found a muse. I call him a whore.
Hello writing.
The other day I was talking to a friend about how much I needed a muse, someone to drive words into my head and propel me to pick up a pen and put these words into writing. In that conversation, I realized that if I had a writing pre-requisite, it would be a person I could draw my inspiration from.
It is no secret. I started writing because I wanted to document the daily accounts of my admiration for The Boy back when I was only 12, awkward, naive and foolish. I grappled for words that could describe how his eyes piercingly looked into mine. Or how I seemed to have held my breath while walking with him from the campus gate to the jeepney stop. And especially that ineffable, explosive feeling when I saw him starting to like someone else. This inspiration I drew from him is the same one that I siphoned for every school paper article, essays for contests and projects and even for his own thesis. And by night, I documented each memory in my diary up until a decade later, when we, all grown-up and tainted with the uncertainties of this world, decided to part ways. For more than a decade, The Boy was my muse.
And now, this. A daily urge to write that cannot be quenched. I realized it was not The Boy that I longed for. It was the madness that I wanted so badly to translate into words.
As I went on talking to that friend, because once I start a topic I cannot simply go astray, he suggested someone. Prince Caspian. The one person who has totally made 2011 already an enchanting year. I tried but it was to no avail. I had no memory of how it felt while looking into his eyes. Piercing? Mesmerizing? Turning my knees into jelly? I wondered what his presence would be like. What his scent was. How his skin felt against mine. How it would feel to spend a day together and part ways in the wee hours of dawn. I picked up a pen and tried to doodle. I ended up writing my name in different fonts.
My friend laughed at what I said. He thinks I am silly. If I am, then how would he call my writer friend who has to cook before he writes? Or the one who listens to The Beatles as he scribbles along? Or, most especially, the one who needs to get laid before he finishes a piece? Lunatics, that would be an apt term for them. Us, I mean.
I won't last a day without writing. I would rot. And without love, I would also decay. I have to write about love to keep me alive.
And with this, my friend offered. "Use me."
I closed my eyes and thought of him. Me and him. Our friendship. Our wondrous, inexplicable, non-obligatory, organic and serendipitous friendship. To my surprise, things came crossing my mind. One after another. Not merely things but words. Sentences. Paragraphs. I smiled.
For months, I struggled with writing. I needed a push, a motivation, someone to call my muse. And now, here is someone I could use. A meantime inspiration. An understudy. A spare tire. No, I haven't found a muse. I call him a whore.
Hello writing.
12.22.2010
Dalawang Bote
Naalala ko na may Blogspot pa pala ako. Nalilito ako sa dami ng online account na nagawa ko.
Ang haba ng araw, andaming ginawa. Pero ayoko pa itong matapos.
Dahil mag-isa ako sa bahay at nakakalungkot, naisipan kong magdala ng kasama pauwi..
Dalawang bote ng GPS. Isang lata ng sisig. At isang pint ng ice cream. Ayos.
Sa totoo lang, mukhang di tumalab ang dalawang bote.
Sa totoo lang, masaya ako. Tahimik ang buhay. Ang daling ngumiti. Ayoko na isipin kung kaya ko pang maging masaya. Dyan ako nadale dati.
Sa totoo lang, sinubukan kong magmahal ulit. Nagmahal ako pero wala akong napala. O baka hindi ko lang sinagad ang pagkakataon.
Sa totoo lang, naiisip ko pa rin siya. Iisa lang siya sa buhay ko. Mula sa simula. Kung hanggang kelan, ewan.
Sa totoo lang, takot ako. Tulad ng isinulat ko sa Tumblr. Paano kung naikot ko na ang mundo, nagawa ko na lahat ng gusto ko.. Pero siya pa rin ang hinahanap ko?
Sa totoo lang, dapat na akong tumahimik. Tumalab ang dalawang bote.
Ang haba ng araw, andaming ginawa. Pero ayoko pa itong matapos.
Dahil mag-isa ako sa bahay at nakakalungkot, naisipan kong magdala ng kasama pauwi..
Dalawang bote ng GPS. Isang lata ng sisig. At isang pint ng ice cream. Ayos.
Sa totoo lang, mukhang di tumalab ang dalawang bote.
Sa totoo lang, masaya ako. Tahimik ang buhay. Ang daling ngumiti. Ayoko na isipin kung kaya ko pang maging masaya. Dyan ako nadale dati.
Sa totoo lang, sinubukan kong magmahal ulit. Nagmahal ako pero wala akong napala. O baka hindi ko lang sinagad ang pagkakataon.
Sa totoo lang, naiisip ko pa rin siya. Iisa lang siya sa buhay ko. Mula sa simula. Kung hanggang kelan, ewan.
Sa totoo lang, takot ako. Tulad ng isinulat ko sa Tumblr. Paano kung naikot ko na ang mundo, nagawa ko na lahat ng gusto ko.. Pero siya pa rin ang hinahanap ko?
Sa totoo lang, dapat na akong tumahimik. Tumalab ang dalawang bote.
8.16.2010
This Can't Be Happening
As I woke up this morning, my thoughts narrowed down to just one person: you.
At that exact moment, I initially felt a jolt of joy. Remembering you puts a smile on my face at any given moment. But then I suddenly felt sad. It’s the kind of joy I have to keep to myself. Nobody else must know.
Maybe I’m just too vulnerable. Maybe this will fade as quickly as it became clear to me. Maybe months from now, I’ll be looking back at this day and realize how silly or foolish I am. But maybe this feeling, something I haven’t felt in years, might last.
So it was today when you suddenly evolved into my first thought in the morning. It was so elating and confusing at the same time. It was a feeling that was too much to bear with in the morning. I knew there was only one thing I can do - go back to sleep.
At that exact moment, I initially felt a jolt of joy. Remembering you puts a smile on my face at any given moment. But then I suddenly felt sad. It’s the kind of joy I have to keep to myself. Nobody else must know.
Maybe I’m just too vulnerable. Maybe this will fade as quickly as it became clear to me. Maybe months from now, I’ll be looking back at this day and realize how silly or foolish I am. But maybe this feeling, something I haven’t felt in years, might last.
So it was today when you suddenly evolved into my first thought in the morning. It was so elating and confusing at the same time. It was a feeling that was too much to bear with in the morning. I knew there was only one thing I can do - go back to sleep.
8.11.2010
Rediscovery
- I don’t write about my confusion, doubts and worries. I don’t want to give them the finality, or let alone some space in my life.
- I am always in need of an outlet. There are a lot of things within me that I can’t contain.
- Risks are my cup of tea. I feel afraid, yes. But I don’t mind. I’d rather regret something I did than regret something I didn’t do.
- There is this free-spirited child within me, one that I have silenced and buried for years. I am a free-spirit. I roll the way I want to.
- I am in love with love. Loving is one of my greatest abilities. Coupled with optimism, this ability becomes one of my deadliest weapons.
- I miss loving and being loved in return, romantically. There is no synthetic substitute for that.
- But even so, I still think it’s too early to love and to share my life completely with someone.
- Currently, I am experiencing mild pain, floating anxiety and fleeting happiness. It is a mixture I have dealt with for so many times but still, this feels like the first. And though it brings me so much misery, I actually feel so alive.
- Note to self: Choose someone who makes you laugh. Choose someone whom you can talk to, sensibly or non-sensibly. Choose someone who lets you find who you are and loves you for your best and worst versions. Choose someone who has always been and will always be a good friend. :)
- I must constantly find the will to pray.
7.20.2010
Three Months
The three-month rule says you have to wait for three months after you broke up before you start dating again. And today, that’s exactly how long it has been. Three whole months.
So there I was at a bar one Monday night, armed with every intention to get drunk with my two male buddies while waiting for the slightest indication that he still wanted to work things out. The week before that was like my journey to and through hell - rejected calls, alibis and sometimes, nothing from him. I gave him an ultimatum - if I didn’t get any call from him that night, it would all be over. Come 12 midnight, I received my goodbye and thank you text message. Just like that.
First month. Cry a river.
I used to think that our break-up would kill me. It was a two-year relationship with my first love and best friend for over ten years. But to my surprise, I was actually fine. The people around me told me I was actually blooming. It was inexplicably strange.
But it wasn’t a walk in the park. Yes, I cried, although my reaction was a bit delayed. A picture of me weeks after the break-up would have shown a thoroughly depressed young lady crying herself to sleep and having only a pillow to console her. Yes, I got bitter. I bashed him with hatred-filled messages for so many times. Yes, I was angry. I called him up crying and asking if this is the happiness he imagined for me. And yes, I cried more when we finally met again after two months; that time, we were no longer lovers and not even friends. And that status hasn’t changed at all.
When we were still together, we had a deal: breaking up will never be an option. But then, I realized how the differences just crawl in, and no matter how much you love each other, you just can’t make each other happy anymore. I thought it was something like our previous break-ups, that we’d eventually be in each other’s arms. At one point, I even told him that I’d rather be miserable with him than be peaceful without him. Crazy, I know.
Second month. Build a bridge.
I think this was the point when I realized that our relationship was on a dead end. Though I no longer grieved, it still felt like I lost a part of me somewhere and I can’t seem to get it back. But then, I started to shift my perspective on other things. I started working as an interviewer and I feel really useful, relaxed and content with that job. It doesn’t even feel like work.
During the course of my relationship with The Boy, I was only able to go out with my friends for a few times. It even came to a point that I didn’t have updates from them at all. But during the second month post break-up, I really made it a point to be with them every single week. I’m glad they were still as wonderful as they were two years ago. Immediately after the break-up, they rushed to my side and never left since then. They knew I needed them more than ever and I’m so grateful. They helped me build the bridge I’m treading on.
But I had to admit, a part of me was trying to rebel. I was out two nights a week, either drinking with friends, staying out til the wee hours of the morning. I even had another cartilage piercing. I was a mess but I was happy. I never felt that loose, or maybe even that free, for the past couple of years.
Third month. Get over it.
A part of me was still affected during the first few weeks. I hated everything that reminded me of him and us. I hated buildings and volkswagens. I hated happy couples. I remembered every single line I wrote for him; I get pissed when I hear the songs he used to sing for me. I was still bitter and depressed.
This was the month when he finally came home. We talked til the wee hours of the morning. Before we even met, my mind was made up - I want to move on.
I thought I’d freeze when he picked me up at home but I was actually fine. We talked, we laughed, he told me stories. And before the night ended, he asked me back. I cried and ranted my heart out. He let me go too easily, I went to and through hell and back just to get myself together, and now he wanted me back. Crap. I finally learned to say no.
From that point onwards, things went on a blur. This is the point where I would share how we both are right now. I could lie and say that we’re civil. But we’re actually less than that. From the night we met, a few events transpired. Unexpectedly, he just gave me more pain to deal with and that made me stand by my decision all the more. It’s all over, I’m moving on.
If there’s one thing I’m actually sad about right now, it’s the fact that we were once wonderful friends and great lovers together and now we can’t stand each other, even just for fifteen minutes. It’s just sad how two people who used to share their lives together aren’t even talking. But I guess it takes time. A lot of time.
So all this brings us to where we are today. The end of the three months rule. I am commemorating this day not because finally, I can date. I honor this day as a form of appreciation for myself. I was strong, I am strong, and being strong was the only option I had. I’m alive, I’m free and I am surrounded with loving friends and family who are all willing to put a smile on my face at any given moment. I love them and I promise to be beside them when it’s their turn to go through hell and back. And I truly appreciate my male buddies. They might be crass and rude on ordinary days but for me, they were the most protective, most supportive and most entertaining all throughout. I am so lucky to have male friends who keep me objective and strong-willed. They are like brothers to me.
And thank you God, for making this process awfully wonderful for me. You gave me a lot of detours, a lot of events that made me wiser yet happier, and a lot of people to recognize in my life. I am still a work in progress and You are incredibly patient with me. I love you.
I can certainly say I know myself better these days. I am not in a hurry to jump into another relationship. I’m taking my time, enjoying the colorful friendships I’ve rekindled. I am stronger, wiser, better. I am moving on.
Cheers! :)
So there I was at a bar one Monday night, armed with every intention to get drunk with my two male buddies while waiting for the slightest indication that he still wanted to work things out. The week before that was like my journey to and through hell - rejected calls, alibis and sometimes, nothing from him. I gave him an ultimatum - if I didn’t get any call from him that night, it would all be over. Come 12 midnight, I received my goodbye and thank you text message. Just like that.
First month. Cry a river.
I used to think that our break-up would kill me. It was a two-year relationship with my first love and best friend for over ten years. But to my surprise, I was actually fine. The people around me told me I was actually blooming. It was inexplicably strange.
But it wasn’t a walk in the park. Yes, I cried, although my reaction was a bit delayed. A picture of me weeks after the break-up would have shown a thoroughly depressed young lady crying herself to sleep and having only a pillow to console her. Yes, I got bitter. I bashed him with hatred-filled messages for so many times. Yes, I was angry. I called him up crying and asking if this is the happiness he imagined for me. And yes, I cried more when we finally met again after two months; that time, we were no longer lovers and not even friends. And that status hasn’t changed at all.
When we were still together, we had a deal: breaking up will never be an option. But then, I realized how the differences just crawl in, and no matter how much you love each other, you just can’t make each other happy anymore. I thought it was something like our previous break-ups, that we’d eventually be in each other’s arms. At one point, I even told him that I’d rather be miserable with him than be peaceful without him. Crazy, I know.
Second month. Build a bridge.
I think this was the point when I realized that our relationship was on a dead end. Though I no longer grieved, it still felt like I lost a part of me somewhere and I can’t seem to get it back. But then, I started to shift my perspective on other things. I started working as an interviewer and I feel really useful, relaxed and content with that job. It doesn’t even feel like work.
During the course of my relationship with The Boy, I was only able to go out with my friends for a few times. It even came to a point that I didn’t have updates from them at all. But during the second month post break-up, I really made it a point to be with them every single week. I’m glad they were still as wonderful as they were two years ago. Immediately after the break-up, they rushed to my side and never left since then. They knew I needed them more than ever and I’m so grateful. They helped me build the bridge I’m treading on.
But I had to admit, a part of me was trying to rebel. I was out two nights a week, either drinking with friends, staying out til the wee hours of the morning. I even had another cartilage piercing. I was a mess but I was happy. I never felt that loose, or maybe even that free, for the past couple of years.
Third month. Get over it.
A part of me was still affected during the first few weeks. I hated everything that reminded me of him and us. I hated buildings and volkswagens. I hated happy couples. I remembered every single line I wrote for him; I get pissed when I hear the songs he used to sing for me. I was still bitter and depressed.
This was the month when he finally came home. We talked til the wee hours of the morning. Before we even met, my mind was made up - I want to move on.
I thought I’d freeze when he picked me up at home but I was actually fine. We talked, we laughed, he told me stories. And before the night ended, he asked me back. I cried and ranted my heart out. He let me go too easily, I went to and through hell and back just to get myself together, and now he wanted me back. Crap. I finally learned to say no.
From that point onwards, things went on a blur. This is the point where I would share how we both are right now. I could lie and say that we’re civil. But we’re actually less than that. From the night we met, a few events transpired. Unexpectedly, he just gave me more pain to deal with and that made me stand by my decision all the more. It’s all over, I’m moving on.
If there’s one thing I’m actually sad about right now, it’s the fact that we were once wonderful friends and great lovers together and now we can’t stand each other, even just for fifteen minutes. It’s just sad how two people who used to share their lives together aren’t even talking. But I guess it takes time. A lot of time.
So all this brings us to where we are today. The end of the three months rule. I am commemorating this day not because finally, I can date. I honor this day as a form of appreciation for myself. I was strong, I am strong, and being strong was the only option I had. I’m alive, I’m free and I am surrounded with loving friends and family who are all willing to put a smile on my face at any given moment. I love them and I promise to be beside them when it’s their turn to go through hell and back. And I truly appreciate my male buddies. They might be crass and rude on ordinary days but for me, they were the most protective, most supportive and most entertaining all throughout. I am so lucky to have male friends who keep me objective and strong-willed. They are like brothers to me.
And thank you God, for making this process awfully wonderful for me. You gave me a lot of detours, a lot of events that made me wiser yet happier, and a lot of people to recognize in my life. I am still a work in progress and You are incredibly patient with me. I love you.
I can certainly say I know myself better these days. I am not in a hurry to jump into another relationship. I’m taking my time, enjoying the colorful friendships I’ve rekindled. I am stronger, wiser, better. I am moving on.
Cheers! :)
7.15.2010
Thursday
I’ve been reading Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. Now I want to do a lot of things: travel, be with myself, meet new people, try different cuisines, enjoy the beauty of this world. I can relate a lot with how the author felt. I realized that, with the length of time I spent with The Boy, I actually feel like I’m going through a bad divorce without the papers and rights to stuff.
She conquered depression and loneliness through travelling, learning a new language, a new faith, and different cultures. I wonder how I could conquer mine. And as I say that, I’m not even discouraged or anxious. I am excited. :)
***
Dad handled a whole day workshop today with people from the church. And because they’re people from church, he can’t simply light a cigarette and smoke when he wants to. He might get kicked out of his own racket. A few minutes ago, he pulled up on the driveway after the grueling day. He took his things inside the house, went to the garden, pulled out his red pack of cigarettes and smoked. I could hear him say “Aaaahh!”
***
Today I accompanied Mom to her physical therapy session. I initially planned on just sitting there and using free Wifi the entire time or reading a book. But when I got there, I wasn’t able to do any of these.
As soon as Mom settled in her cubicle, I took my seat in the middle of the room where the chairs were. I was surrounded by rehab equipment, therapists and disabled people. I couldn’t describe the feeling I had as I looked around the room. These were people with disabilities - unable to walk, speak, write, and even comprehend - and here they were, working their asses off and paying tons of money just to be fully functional again. I believe it was hard for them and yet there they were, pushing on pedals, lifting weights, tinkering with gadgets. To my surprise, they even had smiles on their faces.
At that moment, I thought to myself. Look at you. Look at them. Who has the world on their shoulders? What a shame. I’ve been having this pity party for myself for months now. What illness do I have? A broken heart? Sheesh. It hurts but somebody else is feeling more hurt than I am. I am blessed, I am happy. From now on, I wil smile at the world with the hopes that it will smile back at me.
On another note, I miss helping strangers.
***
And I want to say something. A part of me is truly and irrevocably happy. :)
She conquered depression and loneliness through travelling, learning a new language, a new faith, and different cultures. I wonder how I could conquer mine. And as I say that, I’m not even discouraged or anxious. I am excited. :)
***
Dad handled a whole day workshop today with people from the church. And because they’re people from church, he can’t simply light a cigarette and smoke when he wants to. He might get kicked out of his own racket. A few minutes ago, he pulled up on the driveway after the grueling day. He took his things inside the house, went to the garden, pulled out his red pack of cigarettes and smoked. I could hear him say “Aaaahh!”
***
Today I accompanied Mom to her physical therapy session. I initially planned on just sitting there and using free Wifi the entire time or reading a book. But when I got there, I wasn’t able to do any of these.
As soon as Mom settled in her cubicle, I took my seat in the middle of the room where the chairs were. I was surrounded by rehab equipment, therapists and disabled people. I couldn’t describe the feeling I had as I looked around the room. These were people with disabilities - unable to walk, speak, write, and even comprehend - and here they were, working their asses off and paying tons of money just to be fully functional again. I believe it was hard for them and yet there they were, pushing on pedals, lifting weights, tinkering with gadgets. To my surprise, they even had smiles on their faces.
At that moment, I thought to myself. Look at you. Look at them. Who has the world on their shoulders? What a shame. I’ve been having this pity party for myself for months now. What illness do I have? A broken heart? Sheesh. It hurts but somebody else is feeling more hurt than I am. I am blessed, I am happy. From now on, I wil smile at the world with the hopes that it will smile back at me.
On another note, I miss helping strangers.
***
And I want to say something. A part of me is truly and irrevocably happy. :)
7.07.2010
Wensday.
- I reblogged a million posts on Tumblr for safekeeping. Sorry.
- I’m in a major emotional overhaul. I need a detox. Will visit my friends who are three hours away tomorrow. Or probably head somewhere nobody knows me and stay there for a day.
- Been to the beach today though. For the first time, I didn’t get a sunburn! I was with my bosses, that’s why.
- I don’t trust myself lately. I don’t trust my instincts and the way I feel. Too vulnerable, too impulsive, too harsh. Staying away from trouble. Can’t fight fire with fire. And so if I say I miss someone, I can’t be so sure. But maybe I do.
- Coke is my drug. Bought one litre, poured some on a tall glass, threw in some ice, bottoms up. Now I’m gonna sleep.
7.06.2010
Self Portraits
Once upon a time, I hated taking photos of myself. And though I had this big camera that took wonderful photos of other things, I rarely directed the camera to myself. Not until someone told me, "If I had your camera, I would have taken a hundred photos of myself in a day."
I didn't do as she told me but I realized, I didn't have pictures of myself for most of the events in my life.
So I turned the lens the other way around and took shots of myself. This is to remind me of who I was in transition. One day, I might look back at this post and realize all the more how much of a dope I am. Haha.
Some of the photos here were taken by my sister. She enjoys photography and she's getting the hang of it. Looking at the spread I made now, I cringe at the sight of my own face. Hahaha.
Still, I have several dream portraits in mind.
1. Bokeh night shot of me and someone special sharing a kiss
2. Semi-nude photo with my long, thick and curly hair covering my chest, for as long as it doesn't look porn-ish
3. A random jeepney moment shot
4. Paparazzi photo of me walking in the street
5. More silhouette shots
6. Of course, me in a wedding dress. Not for a shoot but for the real thing.
7. Underwater photo of me wearing a long flowing black dress
8. A transvestite shot. Me transformed into a man. Goatee, mustache, polo shirt, the works.
9. Inside tunnels piled one on top of the other.
10. Me dancing in the rain.
Wish I could achieve 'em all. Narci much? Not really. Just loving photography. :)
I didn't do as she told me but I realized, I didn't have pictures of myself for most of the events in my life.
So I turned the lens the other way around and took shots of myself. This is to remind me of who I was in transition. One day, I might look back at this post and realize all the more how much of a dope I am. Haha.
Still, I have several dream portraits in mind.
1. Bokeh night shot of me and someone special sharing a kiss
2. Semi-nude photo with my long, thick and curly hair covering my chest, for as long as it doesn't look porn-ish
3. A random jeepney moment shot
4. Paparazzi photo of me walking in the street
5. More silhouette shots
6. Of course, me in a wedding dress. Not for a shoot but for the real thing.
7. Underwater photo of me wearing a long flowing black dress
8. A transvestite shot. Me transformed into a man. Goatee, mustache, polo shirt, the works.
9. Inside tunnels piled one on top of the other.
10. Me dancing in the rain.
Wish I could achieve 'em all. Narci much? Not really. Just loving photography. :)
7.04.2010
Dead End, Alaala, atbp.
Hindi ako lasing. Ang daming pumapasok sa isip ko.
So dead end na. Okay na ako dun, chox na yun. Pero andami naming nadaanan na hindi ko makalimutan.
Lugar, tao, kanta, pati mga building - lahat parang bookmark sa mga pahina ng aming nakaraan na dapat aynakasarado sunog na.
Masakit isipin na ang laki-laki ng investment ko, pinag-hirapan kong lumago at bumunga ang lahat. Isa ito sa mga bagay na alam kong pinaghirapan ko. Ang dami ng ginawa ko para sa amin. Pero nauwi sa wala. Bankrupt. Siguro minsan, it's a matter of luck.
So yun. Andaming nangyayari tuwing may naalala ako. Parang dinukot ang puso ko mula sa aking dibdib, winasak, dinuraan, inapak-apakan at iniwan sa daan para kainin ng mga daga. Parang may bombang isinuksok sa aking ribcage. Saka ko pa nalaman na andun iyon nung sumabog na. Parang nababawasan ang katinuan ko sa bawat alaala na sumasagi sa aking utak.
Sa ngayon, hindi ko kaaway ang taong yun. Kaaway ko ang alaala. Ilang beses mo ba dapat maalala ang isang bagay bago ito tuluyang mabura? O di kaya, gaano katagal mo bang hindi dapat isipin ang isang bagay para hindi na ito sumagi sa iyong isip?
Pero napakapositibo kong tao. Ayaw kong kalabanin ang aking alaala. Gusto kong kaibiganin ito, maging bihasa dito hanggang sa punto na ang alaala ko ay magsisilbing alipin ko at hindi ang kabaliktaran.
Dalawang taong relasyon, isang dekada ng alaala. Kung ako ikaw, sige nga.
So dead end na. Okay na ako dun, chox na yun. Pero andami naming nadaanan na hindi ko makalimutan.
Lugar, tao, kanta, pati mga building - lahat parang bookmark sa mga pahina ng aming nakaraan na dapat ay
Masakit isipin na ang laki-laki ng investment ko, pinag-hirapan kong lumago at bumunga ang lahat. Isa ito sa mga bagay na alam kong pinaghirapan ko. Ang dami ng ginawa ko para sa amin. Pero nauwi sa wala. Bankrupt. Siguro minsan, it's a matter of luck.
So yun. Andaming nangyayari tuwing may naalala ako. Parang dinukot ang puso ko mula sa aking dibdib, winasak, dinuraan, inapak-apakan at iniwan sa daan para kainin ng mga daga. Parang may bombang isinuksok sa aking ribcage. Saka ko pa nalaman na andun iyon nung sumabog na. Parang nababawasan ang katinuan ko sa bawat alaala na sumasagi sa aking utak.
Sa ngayon, hindi ko kaaway ang taong yun. Kaaway ko ang alaala. Ilang beses mo ba dapat maalala ang isang bagay bago ito tuluyang mabura? O di kaya, gaano katagal mo bang hindi dapat isipin ang isang bagay para hindi na ito sumagi sa iyong isip?
Pero napakapositibo kong tao. Ayaw kong kalabanin ang aking alaala. Gusto kong kaibiganin ito, maging bihasa dito hanggang sa punto na ang alaala ko ay magsisilbing alipin ko at hindi ang kabaliktaran.
Dalawang taong relasyon, isang dekada ng alaala. Kung ako ikaw, sige nga.
7.03.2010
Of Detours
It was midnight last night. I was taking a walk in front of my college campus with my friend. He asked me if I was headed home or if I was going to take a detour.
Detour. Oh how much this word means to me. My life is full of it.
June 1999. I thought I would continue studying at my elementary alma mater when, due to a miscommunication, I had to transfer to a new school.
March 2003. My heart was set on pursuing Biology as a pre-med course when my parents enrolled me beforehand and led me to choose BS Nursing instead.
March 2009. I was pursuing my career as a nurse when my mom got very sick. My career took a detour - I became my Mom’s private nurse for a year.
February 2010. When I finally decided to pass my resumes around, my Grndma got severely ill, giving her barely weeks to live. Another detour - I cared for her til her last breath.
April 2010. My relationship with the only love I knew fell apart. Just when I was trying to put the pieces back together, I encountered something that opened my eyes. Plus, I received a generous job offer.
If I look at what had happened to my life so far, I would think that fate has been screwing me up and pissing me off the whole time. I plan one thing only to be led to an entirely different path. I would probably ditch my life plans and just surrender myself to the wind.
But when I come to think of it, I should actually be thankful. Had I not been a nurse, I would not have known how to care for my loved ones. If I left for another country two years after I graduated, like I planned to, I wouldn’t have been there for my mom and my family during the most difficult times. If I made an absolutely impulsive decision two months ago, I would not have been home to take the call that led me to my current job. Makes sense? Yes, so much.
Detours. They lead us to a different road, one that is away from what we planned to take. At times we think a detour causes delay; at times, it’s actually the shorter route. But more often than not, and no matter how long or how crazy the path is, a detour definitely takes us to where we ought to be.
So last night, I told my friend I was headed home. I got a cab, asked the driver to take me home. Half way there, I realized I should be somewhere else.
Yes, detours exist. But perhaps, we have the choice to take them, make them or go all the way back.
Detour. Oh how much this word means to me. My life is full of it.
June 1999. I thought I would continue studying at my elementary alma mater when, due to a miscommunication, I had to transfer to a new school.
March 2003. My heart was set on pursuing Biology as a pre-med course when my parents enrolled me beforehand and led me to choose BS Nursing instead.
March 2009. I was pursuing my career as a nurse when my mom got very sick. My career took a detour - I became my Mom’s private nurse for a year.
February 2010. When I finally decided to pass my resumes around, my Grndma got severely ill, giving her barely weeks to live. Another detour - I cared for her til her last breath.
April 2010. My relationship with the only love I knew fell apart. Just when I was trying to put the pieces back together, I encountered something that opened my eyes. Plus, I received a generous job offer.
If I look at what had happened to my life so far, I would think that fate has been screwing me up and pissing me off the whole time. I plan one thing only to be led to an entirely different path. I would probably ditch my life plans and just surrender myself to the wind.
But when I come to think of it, I should actually be thankful. Had I not been a nurse, I would not have known how to care for my loved ones. If I left for another country two years after I graduated, like I planned to, I wouldn’t have been there for my mom and my family during the most difficult times. If I made an absolutely impulsive decision two months ago, I would not have been home to take the call that led me to my current job. Makes sense? Yes, so much.
Detours. They lead us to a different road, one that is away from what we planned to take. At times we think a detour causes delay; at times, it’s actually the shorter route. But more often than not, and no matter how long or how crazy the path is, a detour definitely takes us to where we ought to be.
So last night, I told my friend I was headed home. I got a cab, asked the driver to take me home. Half way there, I realized I should be somewhere else.
Yes, detours exist. But perhaps, we have the choice to take them, make them or go all the way back.
6.30.2010
Over The Fence
The title might give you an impression that this post is about transition, moving onward to another phase in life and exploring possibilities. But it isn’t. It’s simply about jumping over the fence.
The last time I did it was in Digos City, December 2006. I was with my friends Tracy, Wilson and Thomas; all four of us were drunk. We were standing outside Thomas’ house, where we were staying for months, staring at the padlocked gate to which none of us had the key. It was 4 am. We can’t just wake up the caretaker. We were saying silly things and laughing; the neighbors’ dogs were barking nonstop. But we were tired and sleepy and drunk. So we decided to climb the iron gate. It was a sight to behold: four drunk friends pushing and pulling each other over the fence.
After more than three years, I finally had the chance to do it again. To my family, I’ve been known to come home in the wee hours of the morning. But even so, I was sneaky - I always brought keys to all doors and gates with me. But tonight, I made a miss. After work, I headed home only to find that my family went out for dinner. I looked for my keys in my bag only to realize that I left them in my room. It was 7.30 PM and I was too tired to go somewhere else. Hence, I made a decision: over the fence it is. It was a sight to behold: I was in my patent leather Mary Janes, my acid-washed jeans and formal blouse and I hoisted myself up and over the gate and jumped inside the lawn. The funny thing was, while I was at the top and lifting my leg over to the other side, I heard our neighbor yell, “Aaaay matagak!”
I couldn’t explain the adrenaline rush I got on both occasions. I felt excited to stretch my limbs over the iron fence and yet embarassed about the possibility that someone might see me. But then, the moment my feet landed on the ground where I should be, it gave me a feeling that I hit home.
So yes, maybe we encounter locked gates in our lives. At times, there are moments when we can’t wait any longer so we decide to climb. It is a risk to be seen by other people; they might think what you’re doing is crazy, they might think you’d fall and get hurt. But what the heck, whether your friends are there or not, hoist yourself up and get over it. You’ll be closer to where you ought to be.
Alright, this post is not really about jumping over the fence.
The last time I did it was in Digos City, December 2006. I was with my friends Tracy, Wilson and Thomas; all four of us were drunk. We were standing outside Thomas’ house, where we were staying for months, staring at the padlocked gate to which none of us had the key. It was 4 am. We can’t just wake up the caretaker. We were saying silly things and laughing; the neighbors’ dogs were barking nonstop. But we were tired and sleepy and drunk. So we decided to climb the iron gate. It was a sight to behold: four drunk friends pushing and pulling each other over the fence.
After more than three years, I finally had the chance to do it again. To my family, I’ve been known to come home in the wee hours of the morning. But even so, I was sneaky - I always brought keys to all doors and gates with me. But tonight, I made a miss. After work, I headed home only to find that my family went out for dinner. I looked for my keys in my bag only to realize that I left them in my room. It was 7.30 PM and I was too tired to go somewhere else. Hence, I made a decision: over the fence it is. It was a sight to behold: I was in my patent leather Mary Janes, my acid-washed jeans and formal blouse and I hoisted myself up and over the gate and jumped inside the lawn. The funny thing was, while I was at the top and lifting my leg over to the other side, I heard our neighbor yell, “Aaaay matagak!”
I couldn’t explain the adrenaline rush I got on both occasions. I felt excited to stretch my limbs over the iron fence and yet embarassed about the possibility that someone might see me. But then, the moment my feet landed on the ground where I should be, it gave me a feeling that I hit home.
So yes, maybe we encounter locked gates in our lives. At times, there are moments when we can’t wait any longer so we decide to climb. It is a risk to be seen by other people; they might think what you’re doing is crazy, they might think you’d fall and get hurt. But what the heck, whether your friends are there or not, hoist yourself up and get over it. You’ll be closer to where you ought to be.
Alright, this post is not really about jumping over the fence.
6.12.2010
Oh How I Love My Job
Ladies and gentlemen, the thesaurus.
Interviewer: Define Thesaurus.
Student: A thesaurus belongs to the species of dinosaurs. It is considered extinct because we no longer see any Thesaurus in the world today. It is also one of the largest kinds of dinosaurs.
Interviewer died.
**
Interviewer: Define Thesaurus.
Student: A thesaurus is an.. uhmm.. organization that creates encyclopedias, dictionaries, magazines and newspapers. They produce these things to help students in school.
Interviewer: Right. Thesaurus Printing Press.
Interviewer: Define Thesaurus.
Student: A thesaurus belongs to the species of dinosaurs. It is considered extinct because we no longer see any Thesaurus in the world today. It is also one of the largest kinds of dinosaurs.
Interviewer died.
**
Interviewer: Define Thesaurus.
Student: A thesaurus is an.. uhmm.. organization that creates encyclopedias, dictionaries, magazines and newspapers. They produce these things to help students in school.
Interviewer: Right. Thesaurus Printing Press.
5.24.2010
Top 10 Songs For The Scorned Lover
So there are lots of times when I’d rather listen to music rather than write down or talk about my thoughts. It is truly a comfort to know that someone might have felt the same way as I did. These songs are ready-made statements for my sentiments.
If you’re looking for ballads and tear-jerkers, you won’t find ‘em here. This is my personal collection of angst-filled break up songs.- “Gives You Hell” by All-American Rejects. Blunt, real and a sure-fire hit.
- “You Oughtta Know” by Alanis Morrisette. On full blast while cleaning up the mess. :)
- “Don’t Speak” by No Doubt. I first heard this song when I was in fourth grade and I still love it.
- “The Brilliant Dance” by Dashboard Confessional. So you bury all your lover’s clothes and burn the letters lover wrote but it doesn’t make any better. ‘Nuf said.
- “Good F*cking Bye” and “Radio” by Alkaline Trio. Matt Skiba sounds like a veteran of break-ups. Though both songs are easy to listen to, they’re actually filled with so much angst. And I love em. Haha.
- “Best I Ever Had” by Vertical Horizon. It’s not so bad, you’re just the best I ever had. I remember a male friend who sings this everytime he gets dumped. Each ex was the best for him. LOL. :|
- “Love Hurts” by Incubus. But sometimes it’s a good hurt and it feels like I’m alive. Songs like this will get you by.
- “Tea and Sympathy” by Jars of Clay. For the immediate post break-up moment.
- “The Fight Is Over” by Urbandub. Gave all this time just to be let down.
- “Stitches and Burns” by Fra Lippo Lippi. A poetic masterpiece.
5.22.2010
DABDA ii
I'm one pathetic monster.
Being in bed is hell. Waking and sleeping is too arduous for me; my mind can't seem to stop having memory marathons. I sleep late, I wake up late.
I went out alone. My first soloflight drinking experience. Drinking alone is fun, with a hint of sarcasm.
I am not myself. I am useless. I'd rather go out than stay at home. Idle moments bore holes into my heart.
Emo. That's who I am. Can I save myself from all of this?
I know I need to divert my attention but I can't.
I'm not crying every night. I'm not drunk all week. I am just plain sad. I don't know what I want but I know what I don't want.
It's not good for me to be alone during this times. And yet I am.
All of these things seem to say one thing. Hello depression.
It's been a month since we broke up. I'm like a car stuck in mud and my engines are roaring, almost on the brink of exhaustion. I want all of the drama to stop.
I just want to bounce back. Be productive. Smile again.
I know I'm on my way there.
Being in bed is hell. Waking and sleeping is too arduous for me; my mind can't seem to stop having memory marathons. I sleep late, I wake up late.
I went out alone. My first soloflight drinking experience. Drinking alone is fun, with a hint of sarcasm.
I am not myself. I am useless. I'd rather go out than stay at home. Idle moments bore holes into my heart.
Emo. That's who I am. Can I save myself from all of this?
I know I need to divert my attention but I can't.
I'm not crying every night. I'm not drunk all week. I am just plain sad. I don't know what I want but I know what I don't want.
It's not good for me to be alone during this times. And yet I am.
All of these things seem to say one thing. Hello depression.
It's been a month since we broke up. I'm like a car stuck in mud and my engines are roaring, almost on the brink of exhaustion. I want all of the drama to stop.
I just want to bounce back. Be productive. Smile again.
I know I'm on my way there.
5.16.2010
Summer Nostalgia
I was supposed to share this album last March. But hey, I think photographs tend to hold so much memory as they age.
"Another sun-soaked season fades away.."
"You have stolen my heart.."
"Launched a thousand ships in my heart so easily.."
"Walking away as the sky fades to gray."
Welcoming new seasons and reasons to celebrate.
Cheers to the joy of friendship.
Your college friends know who you are. But highschool friends will always know why.
I want more shooots! :)
5.15.2010
Random i
I didn't even like the song 'til I heard you sing it. It was a trap. I know years from now, I'll feel a wave of nostalgia whenever I hear that song.
They were just poetic words set to slow music. Altogether, these words suddenly formed the soundtrack of my life.
But you're wrong. I now remember you with every love song I hear.
I never thought ballads could still penetrate my subconscious.
You make every love song matter.
They were just poetic words set to slow music. Altogether, these words suddenly formed the soundtrack of my life.
But you're wrong. I now remember you with every love song I hear.
I never thought ballads could still penetrate my subconscious.
You make every love song matter.
5.10.2010
Voted!
This day holds a historical event in the Philippines - the first ever automated elections. Even if I was down with colds, cough and fever, I coerced myself to get up, go out there, and cast my vote.
I was watching TV in the morning. The news revealed nothing but negativity - malfunctions here, anomalies there, etc. I thought I was gonna wait for four hours before I could vote.
My bro and I went to the precinct with our gear - my camera, a bottle of water, and my two cellphones. Surprisingly, when we got there, there was no line for our polling precinct. We waited for a few seconds then we were ushered in. Ten minutes later, I was done shading. I inserted the ballot into the machine that looked like a trash bin but I hope it isn't so. Then the guy marked my nail with an indellible ink. Done.
While shading, I remember being conscious of my shading style. Board exams require me to shade as dark as I can. This time, I shaded lightly, I was afraid the ink would go through the other side of the ballot. And I kept counting my senators over and over again. Just being sure. :)
It's my first time to vote and I'm actually excited. Despite the insanity all over the Philippines, I realized I'm actually hopeful of how my vote would affect the nation in the coming years.
Many years from now, when automated elections would be obsolete, I hope I might live to tell the story of this day.
I was watching TV in the morning. The news revealed nothing but negativity - malfunctions here, anomalies there, etc. I thought I was gonna wait for four hours before I could vote.
My bro and I went to the precinct with our gear - my camera, a bottle of water, and my two cellphones. Surprisingly, when we got there, there was no line for our polling precinct. We waited for a few seconds then we were ushered in. Ten minutes later, I was done shading. I inserted the ballot into the machine that looked like a trash bin but I hope it isn't so. Then the guy marked my nail with an indellible ink. Done.
While shading, I remember being conscious of my shading style. Board exams require me to shade as dark as I can. This time, I shaded lightly, I was afraid the ink would go through the other side of the ballot. And I kept counting my senators over and over again. Just being sure. :)
It's my first time to vote and I'm actually excited. Despite the insanity all over the Philippines, I realized I'm actually hopeful of how my vote would affect the nation in the coming years.
Many years from now, when automated elections would be obsolete, I hope I might live to tell the story of this day.
5.09.2010
DABDA
For weeks I thought I was doing fine. Night-out here, work there, meet-ups here and there. I was busy. But I breathed.
And then something happened that made me hold my breath.
I was sharing photos with a friend when I saw old photos. Of us. You can call me a masochist, but yeah. I browsed through each and every photo we had for the last two years. The end result? I cried. Hot tears came flowing down my face.
My mind was on a rut. I thought I was okay. I thought I had it all under control.
I remembered something. DABDA. The past three weeks was a huge D - Denial.
I cried endlessly. I thought of how happy we both were, how we enjoyed each other's company, how we shared our lives together. How could something so beautiful just end so sudden? What went wrong? To think that I imagined and wished to spend the rest of my life with him. But then, he's not the one. So what now?Sift through the billions of people in the world?
Now, I think I'm past the Denial stage. I'm moving on to Anger. Oh how I hate him today. It's strange how I could love someone so much and suddenly be this angry and full of hatred. But I do miss him. His company, our laughs, the good times, who I was with him.
I've seen all this before, went through all this. And I'm determined to get better in time.
DABDA. Please let me jump to the last A.
And then something happened that made me hold my breath.
I was sharing photos with a friend when I saw old photos. Of us. You can call me a masochist, but yeah. I browsed through each and every photo we had for the last two years. The end result? I cried. Hot tears came flowing down my face.
My mind was on a rut. I thought I was okay. I thought I had it all under control.
I remembered something. DABDA. The past three weeks was a huge D - Denial.
I cried endlessly. I thought of how happy we both were, how we enjoyed each other's company, how we shared our lives together. How could something so beautiful just end so sudden? What went wrong? To think that I imagined and wished to spend the rest of my life with him. But then, he's not the one. So what now?Sift through the billions of people in the world?
Now, I think I'm past the Denial stage. I'm moving on to Anger. Oh how I hate him today. It's strange how I could love someone so much and suddenly be this angry and full of hatred. But I do miss him. His company, our laughs, the good times, who I was with him.
I've seen all this before, went through all this. And I'm determined to get better in time.
DABDA. Please let me jump to the last A.
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