I’m a big fan of Valerie Chua. Aside from drawing pretty stuff (mostly women) and bringing them to life with her amazing painting skills, she also sings during her spare time. Needless to say, I was ecstatic when this talented lady answered my question a few days ago. Apparently, she does not only captivate people with her talents, she also inspires. :)

christmas!

Christmas is all about giving, celebrating Christ’s birth and also about spreading the love. Today, I’d like to thank people who have made me smile with their random quirks and display of affection (both filial and platonic). I realized I have so much to be thankful for, if I’ll only lose sight of the superficial and really concentrate on what really matters.

In an effort to succintly record my thoughts this Christmas, I’ve come up with a simple list.

FUNNY THINGS

- Most people value those who couldn’t care less about them, yet take those who really love them for granted.
- How people obsess over high-tech gadgets and other flashy gifts this Christmas, when all they really need is a hug.
- How we keep track of the remaining number of days until Christmas, when really, we could start embodying the essence of Christmas at any time of the year
- How some people could hate Grinch without realizing they’re quite like Grinch themselves (my ninongs and ninangs)

Haha, kidding! Merry Christmas everyone :)

Awww. I chanced upon the formspring of my old classmate Cza (@riotcontrol) a few days ago and took the opportunity to ask her this question. I’ve been meaning to for quite some time because It’s as if a whole new revolution within her has taken place (and it shows!). :)

Needless to say, I’m very happy for her! I was quite inspired, and I think I wanna do the same for my life.

standstill hourglass

moment

as you clasped my hand in
silence, a gush of infinity rushed through my
being, from the vein in my ring finger to the
crannies in my heart.
i was glad to have found you
then

years

as fortune paved way for our second
encounter, the rush felt foreign, like a
wooden wonder corrupted by
age and ache.
but even corrugated shear brings
forth edgy thrills,
and i was glad to have found you
again.

days

as i received a red bow out of
nowhere, rouge emerged from pallor, successfully
evading the thorns in my
stream of consciousness.

weeks

as we set aside a portion of twenty-four to enter
the secret world of daydreams, you
encapsulated everything i needed
and wanted
and secretly wished for,
in a way i never thought was possible.

hours

as blinding light crashed through my door
(drizzle, flicker)
the twinge of an epiphany caught me.

months

as the waves reclaimed that which strayed
too far from the sea,
and I enveloped myself in painful reverie, I
realized you and I could
never be.
but i was glad to have found you

then.

--2:55 PM

yay

Wow, I never knew I could do so much in one day just by waking up earlier than the usual.
- attended two Christmas parties
- finished Of Mice and Men
- watched Love Actually and HP7
- and now off to my Dad's friend's party (or not. I'm lazy)

Errr. I know I've not been posting anything here for the past few days. I don't know if that's a bad or a good thing.

clearing skies

I forgot to ask who wrote gowritesilly as his/her codename for the Tau Kris Kringle. If you are the person I'm looking for, drop me a message or something. Haha.
_________________________________________

My preconceived notion of happy was shattered in light of the recent events that made my week (or even possibly, my year). While the past few weeks have been as crazy as hell, a few moments reminded me of what it was like to smile and give room for the simple joys of life.

In one perspective, Pisay is just like one of those torture chambers we see in gory movies. We, as students, run for our lives as we struggle in moving from one requirement to another. Add teenage drama to the academic stress and that leaves us not knowing if we can still get out alive. It's literally a race to survival-- we all have those moments when all we can think of is mustering enough strength to last until the next day.

Most students have seriously thought of giving point at one point or another. But really, what keeps our sanity intact is a whole lot stronger than any of those monstrous figures (we call requirements). Many people will probably disagree to this (because it's true that distractions, fatigue and whatnot sometimes get the better of us), but we are infinitely many times stronger than we think we are.

So, yeah. Here's to all my hardworking fellows in Pisay. We survived the last three quarters (some better than the others), and I think we all really deserve this break.

Happy Holidays!

i just realized

The object of my fleeting fancy was loathsome, terrible, and most certainly childish. Now that I think about it again, I feel like covering my entire face, shaking my head and thinking it was all a dream. My taste is weird and I seriously need to get a grip.

On another note (regarding an entirely different person), I want to do one last thing before I graduate. One thing I'll most probably regret if I don't. I want to make amends and enlist the help of my friends in my biggest (and in effect, most dangerous) personal experiment yet. I wanna see how things will turn out.

Cricket, hell no.

early-morning opm rave

If you are my friend, you probably know that I dig OPM songs from the 80s and 90s and tend to shy away from innuendo in most pop songs today. And it's not just about the sexual message bombing the hell out of my ears every time I turn on the radio. Don't you think there's something special about a song pure and raw, spared from major digital manipulation and all? I'd rather that artists stop over-relying on computer techniques and start to really deliver value.


Here's an example of a song that actually tells a story. In a figurative sense, of course (because some songs that tell a story can be utterly shallow all the same).

Anyway, let's go off-topic. I cringe a little every time I hear this song because reminds me of an embarrassing moment I had during a school assembly in fourth grade. The theme then was 80s so the girls were asked to sport hooped earrings, while the boys had to resort to wearing awkward jeans and suspenders. We were divided into groups and since I memorized this song pretty early, I was given the lead role in one song number. That day, I wore a bright red dress from my Granny's closet and long striped socks my Mom bought for me. My classmates and I were all very excited. It was the big day! For the record, I was pretty confident that things would go well, but imagine the horror when, during the number itself, I totally forgot the lines! The back-up singers didn't know what to do either, so I stood there mumbling the lyrics to the parts I actually knew, and left the stage dumbfounded.

I guess you could not say you're prepared enough for a singing event, huh. I'd like to think that I've outgrown this phase already, but I'm not really so sure.



I watched a movie on ABS when I was nine years old or something, and it's about a widower who fell in love with the nanny of his children (This may sound icky, but I watched it, and I tell you, it was not. Or maybe I was just a sucker for romantic movies even at an early age). Ever since, the theme song of the movie stuck with me. Regine (arguably more well-known by her shrill notes than by the depth of feelings expressed in her songs) sang this, but really, this is one of my all-time favorite OPM songs. This song's on repeat every time I feel inspired by a certain someone, or get my heart beaten up by and get all emo.

My all-around favorite love song, you could probably say. Anyway, I should stop writing now. My writing's starting to get all sappy.

And it's already 3 AM, God.

gmt+8

42 minutes 'til December
Enough to give me the shiver

(I was supposed to craft a decent poem, but the hell week's a bummer.)
Where is the moment we needed the most? You kick up the leaves and the magic is lost.

TGFMF

"You can be surrounded by a sea of people and still feel all alone."

Thank God for my friends.

It usually takes time for me to find a person worth keeping. I'm a little eccentric and I know that not everyone can keep up with that. I sometimes get raised eyebrows or frustrated looks when I mention a certain book or character I'm engrossed with, though that's not a reason to stop sharing stuff with people, of course.

Some of my friends are chatty, loud, and all, but I think I'm starting to get the trend now. Many of my close friends are dudes who I felt awkward with before. Many of them, I used to deliberately ignore, back when I was still mean and all. What's good is that I somehow managed to turn all of them into friends– and real, good ones at that. They're willing to walk around with me when I feel like sharing my thoughts, and listen to my ever-random rants about people and life in general. Truly, I thank God for my guy friends.

I thank God for my girl friends as well. The ones I can giggle with as much as I like, the ones I can share my juicy secrets with, and those who inspire me to become a better person. (Not that my guy friends do not inspire me to become better, of course) My girl friends are the ones I can run to when I feel like fangirling, or terminating the whole male species. Extreme ends of the spectrum, don't you think so?

I hope, though, that they (both male and female) enjoy the friendship as much as I do. I hope I don't bore or annoy them or whatsoever. I hope time and space won't succeed in drifting us apart after high school. I hope I can get to keep them as friends forever.

P.S. It's a sad thing that I don't talk to some people I used to consider as friends anymore. I don't know what happened. Life happens, maybe? I'm afraid to ask them for fear they won't even care, and I am afraid to ask the question to myself as well.

ugh

Trying to remember a certain person is like waking up after a traumatizing dream. I don't know if that dream existed in the first place or it was just some mindplay that got too far. Neither do I know why I failed to keep my guard, when all I've been doing all my life is sheltering my heart from all sorts of harm.

When people to get too close for comfort, my life turns into a disaster. I should have kept that in mind earlier.

mi primer amor

One of the things that made me happy today was a conversation with a good friend of mine. We don't often talk but when we do, it really gives me the kind of feeling that people write novels about. A caveat, though - that feeling is nowhere near love as our friendship is purely platonic. Things used to be awkward between us, but I gave our friendship a chance and I'm glad I made that decision. For some reason, when the two of us hang out, our talk often leads to love-related topics. I won't dwell on those things since those are private, but today, he said some things that really hit me - hence the blog post.

What I said: I really really want to go to college already. My life is a stone's throw away from the peak of entropy level (if such a thing exists) and I feel that college will enable me to start with a clean slate.

What he said: Same goes for me. I want to go to college already. But unlike you, I want to end things with a clean slate because only then can I begin again. Do you think you can simply run away? The past will haunt you forever unless you take measures to resolve the conflicts bothering you. If you don't get my point, consider a buffet meal. Can you fully enjoy the main course if bits and pieces of the appetizer are still on your plate?
___________________________________

What I said: Hey, who's your first love?

What he said: None yet.

What I said: Really? Well, this is something I always ask my close friends. Who deserves the title "My First Love" in your life? Is it the person you first had a crush on, the first one you had a mutual understanding with, your first boyfriend, or what?

What he said: It depends. How do you define love? For starters, dictionary definition states you love a person when you're willing to sacrifice for him/her even if you don't get something in return.

What I said: In the first place, that's not a dictionary definition. My trusty dictionary says it's having an intense passion or great liking for someone.

What he said: But that could be lust, you know.

And then we blabbered and all after that. Anyway, that was seemingly a no-brainer, don't you think? Yet that only occurred to me for the first time today. I guess my perception has been distorted by movies or shows or whatever. I've been wondering what's first love when a more basic question should have been answered instead.

With how I define romantic love, it seems like I am yet to meet my first love.

note to self

What a relief it was when you realized that you can live without many, many things. And people.

Sub-crap in life is sometimes tolerable, but it must not be deemed eternally acceptable if you want to lead a happy, fulfilling life. With your limited time and energy, the least you could do for yourself is know what you deserve and strive to follow the path towards that end. So that means, no more of self-pitying statements such as "I can't do what I want" or "My friends don't appreciate me" or "My parents want me to be this instead of that" or "Forever alone friends, let's unite."

defining awkward

I've been an awkward person for as long as I could remember. It's not a normal day without tripping down the stairs, being left dumbfounded by a cocky retort of an acquaintance, or feeling stupid after attending a PE class. Those things are already slightly depressing by themselves.

However, for me, those things are not the worst part of being awkward.

Have you ever passed by an old friend in a hallway and pretended to look at other things because you do not want to acknowledge his/her presence, but forcing a smile anyway because the person has seen you already and you do not want to appear as a snob?

Have you ever been asked to give a few words in front after listening to a boring talk or discussion, and standing there not knowing what to do because 1) you don't particularly like speaking in front and 2) you haven't listened at all, which makes things a lot worse?

Have you ever been stuck with an enemy/old flame in an elevator or a room or any secluded place and trying (yet failing hard) to remain composed while millions of things running in your mind?

Have you ever given a fairly clever comment about a person, only to realize that the exactly same person is right behind you?

Have you ever tried giving a serious comment on anything, and getting bursts of laughter instead of decent responses because people were thinking your comment was meant to be a joke?

I hope I'm not alone.

take me away to better days

"I've got a pocket, got a pocketful of sunshine
I got a love and I know that it's all mine, oh oh oh
Do what you want but you're never gonna break me
Sticks and stones are never gonna shake me, oh oh oh"

I love this song, and everything it reminds me of.

More than the catchy tune of Natasha Bedingfield's Pocketful of Sunshine, I think the the song is worthy of special mention in my blog because of its positive message and feel-good vibe.

Its LSS-inducing powers have worked its way into my brain now, but I fear not, because hey, the lyrics are something close to self-affirmation right?

into the blue

You're a light year away
And something keeps me at bay
You're a whole new creature
And my resort is the aperture

My nights were never this gloomy
Crickets, old songs are my new company
The fleeting notes but sink below the surface
And whatever is left reminds me of your face

The silence deafens me completely
And your indifference eludes me
The jade of spades is nowhere near as good as you
King of hearts, I miss you.

down

Today is a bad day. My pessimist mode is on.

▪ All those long hours of labor for decent-looking grades on my card were wasted. (And I'm not in the mood for "grades aren't everything" rant right now)

▪ I'm trying hard to focus on the important stuff but it's not working.

▪ I feel like I'm too old to start anything great.

▪ My love-hate relationship with the internet is yet to be settled.

▪ Every molecule in my body seems to be a misfit in its own way.

▪ I get annoyed every time I see a certain person.

▪ My family thinks I'm too nerdy and KJ for my own good. (Maybe that's true after all, but they shouldn't shove it to my face).

▪ I'm trying to surround myself with positivity, but something's still wrong with me.

▪ I haven't even started doing any schoolwork. Gah.

the ball

The morning is bright and beauty shines somewhere. The music still plays in her mind, albeit she refuses to acknowledge it as such. The masquerade summoned her into a world of euphoria and ecstasy, but now she is back to reality.

For her, it was a spiritual, mental and ethereal one-night stand that definitely took longer than expected. It was a play of two young minds who sought not the thrill of physical touch, but the stimulation of their ideas through which they thought they could conquer the world. But pushing things too far catapulted into a disaster, and now that she has turned her back on her foolish ways, she is never going back.

She feels like saying a proper goodbye, but she is simply not brave enough.

on a little brown leather notebook

Here's something I wrote last April 21, 2009 on a small Japanese notebook. The notebook was filled with random stuff, like notes my friends wrote during Soph Night, musings and sappy thoughts, among others. Interesting how my perception of the world changed through time, and funny how it seems like I never changed the tiniest bit.
_______________________________

May the vast emptiness in my heart give way to new hopes and unprecedented beginnings.

No longer will I hold on bitterly to the chains of the past. The wasted moments in my life that were spent on silly daydreams and frivolous assumptions will not be for nothing, for it is through these that I finally had my being awakened.

I promise that I'll finally make my life worth living and reach great heights. Sayonara, old me. :)
_______________________________

Wow, yeah right.

I feel like I haven't changed the tiniest bit because it still perfectly applies to me right now. Perhaps I've traveled far and wide, yet ended up on the very same spot where I began. In any case, I shall try to realize these two promises, even only for the sake of my old self.

eyes wide open

My life is not perfect, though I'm not one to complain. My current friends bring out the best in me. My family and I are on good terms. Right now, everything seems to be fine and pleasant, as if the great storm secretly occurring in my mind has finally subsided to allow the flourishing of new greens and opportunities.

Some unresolved things concerning my academic, social and (even) love life still bother me, but I wonder if they are worth resolving in the first place. Since I could only do so much with my limited time, energy and willpower, I should start concentrating my effort on things that really matter to me.

Right now, I just want to be a better person. If I can make my friends happy, spend some time with my family and get my daily dose of alone time every night for reflection and contemplation, then that's already more than enough for me. If I can broaden my perspective, and actually be able to do things I never thought I could do before, then that's worth celebrating for.

I acted against the natural flow of things for too long. I wasted my time and energy on the most petty things, and thought too much instead of seizing the day. Unconsciously, pushed away people who love me regardless of all my quirks and oddities, and forgot to take care of myself as well.

I was stuck in a rut for long, really. Never thought of things this way until fairly recently.

my guilty pleasure

I used to watch KDramas for fun during second year. I'd keep my laptop on even in the wee hours so I can finish just one more episode. However, that just one more episode excuse crawled its way into my mind all the time and prevented me from keeping track of the time. I'd say that excuse again and again, and before knowing it, it would be 4 AM or so the next time I look at the wallclock.

Recently, I rediscovered my penchant—not really penchant, but rather, minor interest— for KDramas. I always say that they are perfect for, as I like to call it, romantically-deprived people. Through KDramas, you can get your daily dose of "hoity-toity" even without a significant other. Some people watch KDramas to forget about their bitterness in failed love-related pursuits, but I patronize (some) KDramas because they're perfect virtual best friends. They can make me laugh my pants off to the point that anyone who sees me will think I'm insane for laughing alone (Oops). But hey, I'm serious about this. If your sense of humor is at least 20% similar to mine, you're sure to have at least one good laugh while watching an episode.

During rare occasions, I also manage to find pieces of advice that are worth reflecting on. Like, why you should never give up even when times get hard. Why it almost always pays to be nice and friendly. Why you should love yourself first before giving your heart to someone.

This post may not be making sense (like my previous posts) but anyway. The latest KDrama I'm watching is one that I saw in ABS the last time I switched the TV on (that was a long, long time ago, trust me). It's about a friendship that, despite its own share of uncertainties (the girl lived with the guy because she thought he was gay, how weird is that), blossomed into love. Somehow, it makes me want to find a best friend like that too. Best friend and boyfriend rolled into one. Hmm, someday.

I feel kinda stupid for watching this, partly because it's like admitting that I'm an LMH fangirl (which I'm not), but I get to laugh real hard every day because of this show. And even for that alone, I think wasting time is kinda worth it.

Anyway, there you go, guys. I guess it's safe to say that you've been exposed to one quirky side of me by now.

billionaire

I'm starting to get really attached with my guitar. These past few days, all I've been doing is practicing and strumming in my room, hoping I'll be able to play better. Last Friday, when I watched Unpluggd with my Camia (+Isko) friends, I got even more inspired to pursue this new hobby of mine.

I was searching on the internet for songs that are easy to play, and I came across Billionaire. As I said before, my Life Plan X (X because I'm thinking of Plan A, B and so on) involves amassing a huge amount of cash and travelling around the world. Since this song seems to fit with my current state of mind, I decided to give it a try.

I do not know what came into my mind but I decided to do a cover today. It's my first time to do this while playing the guitar. As expected, it didn't turn out to be perfect as there were gaps here and there while changing chords.

Still, it's a nice start, don't you think?

hmmm

Looks like someone else did the job for me. I do not know if I should be alarmed, though. Maybe this is good riddance.

here comes something

I woke up thinking of a person I could not get off my mind. This person evokes a smile in my face and represents everything unexpected in my life. Yet when thrown into moments like this, I cannot not help but shift to my default mode– that is, shrugging this feeling off and facing my endless to-do list instead.

There are still a lot of things I need and want to do before this year ends. I do not think I can accommodate another source of baggage now.

My life is already complicated as it is. I get moody and sullen sometimes, and I don't know if a person could tolerate that for extended periods of time. Except my best friend, of course, but that does not count.

Also, I figured that I'm  okay by myself and I do not need anyone to entertain me or make me happy. What I really need to do is cultivate my existing relationships with friends and family since I could not honestly say that all of these relationships are thriving and well-maintained.

I'm still open to anything, but it would take great lengths to change my mind.

you are loved

Often times, we forget one fundamental reality when dealing with people– everyone wants to be loved and reassured. When we see things from this perspective, people's idiosyncrasies start to make more sense.

back into the groove

Getting in touch with an old friend
Seeing the fruits of hard labor
Creating music in the most unexpected places
And keeping one's faith in love

These are the simple joys of life. :)

her story

I wrote this around five months ago when Sir Castro asked us to talk about about our life's purpose in less than ten sentences. I scribbled bits of stuff in my paper and handed it in, but refined my thoughts when I got home. I saw this in my old blog a while ago and thought of reposting it just so I'll be reminded to keep my bearings.

She was a wandering girl lost in a sea of crowd. With a silver microphone on one hand and a pile of books on another, she aimlessly treaded along the ripples of life, not knowing what is in store for her. Plans and goals seemed to be too much for her brain to contain, and so she stayed away from all these things for years.

Everything seemed perfectly fine; after all, what do children have to do with endless future to-do lists? Instead of worrying, she enjoyed her life from sunrise until sunset, did her chores as usual, and slept soundly every night. However, as time went by, the leaves of her childhood slowly fell off one by one. Clearly, these leaves could not be contained in the tree of life forever. And so, as she woke up one day, she looked in the mirror and came across an amazingly wonderful sight– a young girl blossomed into a young woman full of glow, vigor and promise.

A series of seemingly magical transformations have filled the young woman’s life with color and thrill. Her world expanded almost beyond her reach− she encountered lots of new faces, traveled to different places, and bombarded with lots of radical ideas. Deep inside though, she was still this aimlessly wandering girl but alas! This time, she now had a dream, a blurry yet existent vision of what she wanted to be.

Just like Sleeping Beauty whose senses have been reawakened after a hundred years or so, the fire in her has finally unleashed its powers after a long, deep slumber. She realized that she could not remain to be the person she was before, and resolved that she must grow. That is exactly why she is here on Earth.

three questions.

Someone please answer.

How do you know that a friendship is worth keeping?
How do you know that your feelings for someone are worth holding on to?
How do you know if the path you're traversing is the way to happiness?

(Or maybe the questions are wrong in the first place. I don't know. But then again, there's no such thing as a wrong question– wrongly-phrased question, maybe.)

omega

I once knew two people− one was someone I held dearly for a long time, the other I met during a brief yet fateful encounter several years ago. Somehow, these two people left an impression on me, and whatever I could remember about them− eyes, scent, stature− swirled in my sea of memories. Yet, these distinctive physical characteristics were not all that I kept in mind, if only unconsciously. I looked up to these people, wondering about the source of their mystique and admiring their skills at the same time.

Years passed and my heart and soul underwent a complete metamorphosis. Still, bits and pieces from my previous shell remained intact, including the inner compass within me that seeks whatever seems to be beautiful, sublime, and totally different from my current frame of reality.
_____________________________________

Tonight, I mourn for two things− a chance lost forever, and the death of lingering hope. I have been here and there, travelling in search for elusive happiness. After weeks and months of the mental journey, I thought I succeeded at last, but little did I know that I was preparing myself for gloom, confusion and disappointment.

If I had a choice, I would really rather be okay, like my normal self. But sometimes, circumstances in life push you to the very edge, forcing you to hold on bitterly to the last branch of life or suffer from the death of the soul.

I cry, the tears run dry, I sigh, then cry once more. I get frustrated with myself for being trapped in an endless cycle of thinking and hoping without any sign of deliverance.

Enough is enough, really. I don't want to think about these things anymore.

now i know

I want to be a nomad. A fucking rich nomad.

the power of now

For the first time, I realized that there really is a time for everything. When we try to get everything at once, we lose everything instead. When we rush into things, we make things harder for ourselves. When we waste our time overthinking, we lose our ground and slide back to square one, as frustrated and clueless as when we began.

So what do we do?

Live one day at a time.

shoot, shooting

The camera package my Dad gave me was stagnating in my room for quite some time now. I swore I'd open the Nikon Digicam package and experiment a bit, but I never got to do so because I always have many lots of things to do (the eternal excuse of a lazy bum, of course). But today, for lack of something better to do, I decided to venture into a new field.

I consider myself as a photography newbie. I've never read any books about it, nor taken up any lessons. I've been fairly exposed to lots of pictures in the internet, though, and chanced upon random photography articles before. So anyway, I decided to put my photography skills to the test (if they are existent in the first place) and see if I have any potential. Heehee. Here's what I came up with.

In the first set, the pictures are clearly all about time. I had in my mind

 the proverb "Time is gold" when I took the pictures. 

This one has no particular theme or concept. It's merely 

composed of random stuff I found around the house.

These pictures are nothing special, but I decided to post them here to inspire myself to take up a new hobby– photography! I adore lovely pictures, and it would be shame if I did not try to make some myself. Besides, this is a good way to keep my hands busy and my mind occupied. It's the least I could do for myself right now– ease up the transition to a new and more exciting chapter in my life.

Sleight of Heart

I.

Sophia Loren was alone in her room, gazing into the mirror. She had been adept at hiding her feelings for so long, but now, the mirror reflected a face far from emotionless. Her stoic facade had been torn down in the aftermath of the torrent of emotions that swept her when she met a particularly familiar man at Verde Antique. She noticed the incredible swiftness of his hands, the same ones she held ages ago, perfectly enshrouding the secrets of his trade, as well as the depth of his mysterious green eyes that freed the chains of her cautious heart; indeed, he was, unmistakably, the love of her life. She reached out for a tiny music box embellished with rhinestones and fake gold. As she lifted the lid of the music box, a familiar tune struck her− one that she knew by heart since she was still a young maiden.

“Turn a blind eye to the Pandora’s box you know, and stray from the path of the fallen…”

She had deliberately left that music box unopened for two decades or so. It was damaged, a dent marring its otherwise perfect appearance, but that important remnant was more than just an ornamental piece among the many others that adorned her lavishly bedecked room. It was brimming with memories, emotion and most importantly, passion− things which truly made her alive at one point in her life. Nonetheless, for many years, she chose to contain all her sentiments in that tiny box and leave it at just that. It was only at this moment that she attempted to approach the door and delve into the unknown, silently hoping that maybe, just maybe, the past and the present could converge in a fantasy world that she created for herself.

“A dangerous fate is what you desire, my lady. Be careful what you wish for.”

Her lament was suddenly disrupted by three distinct knocks on the door. “Open,” she weakly gave her assent. A large lady quickly rushed in, seemingly running out of breath. “Bonjour, Madamoiselle! Has it already come to your knowledge that our dear Valencia had eloped with Ricardo? Goodness gracious! How could our fine, well-mannered girl be deceived by this not-so-fine idiot!” The vivacity of the voice, even in the most unfortunate situations, immediately gave it away. It was Dolores, clad in her usual striped coat and elaborate headdress almost fit for a rooster. Sophia removed imaginary lint in her dress and cleared her throat. “Yes, Dolores, I heard it from Monsieur Castro. An inauspicious event, indeed.”

It might seem as though the tacky fashion of the stout servant is in striking contrast to the understated elegance of the young lady, who, even in this night of distress, looked absolutely prim and proper. Yet, Dolores was the closest thing to a friend to Sophia Loren, who, in painful confinement in a house she neither wanted nor enjoyed to be in, longed for company. Dolores cupped her mouth with hand and reached for the shoulder of the lady with the other, as she moved toward Sophia Loren. “Oh my, I am afraid my insolence has gotten too far tonight, my lady. I am inconsiderate and loud and everything you abhor, I am deeply sorry! You seem to be not too well, tonight. What is wrong? Should I get you a cup of tea? Wait a second, Madamoiselle”!

That night was a cold night. Dolores came back with two sheets of knitted blankets straight from the common closet and a cup of tea, as expected. “I’m afraid the baron won’t be here tonight. He had some things to attend to− ah, that busy man! But, don’t you worry, the man you long for shall be here tomorrow morning. And, by the way, I thought that you should know. The baron sent his regards to you before leaving.”

“The dawn and the light, setting the stage for what is right…”

With that, Sophia Loren slumped onto the spacious white bed. Dolores very well knew that the absence of the baron was not a major cause of worry for Sophia Loren, and Sophia Loren very well knew that Dolores knew this. Still, each maintained careful use of the language to avoid any awkward or embarrassing situation between them.

The baron was never really a real husband to Sophia Loren. He left the house when he felt like it and never allowed her into any part of his life. It was primarily a marriage on paper, except during those nights when the baron felt like releasing his passion. Sophia Loren was clearly dissatisfied, but that, she never let anyone know, not even her sole female friend in the house. But Dolores, secretly, knew her story.

Dolores left the room within a cunning smile. Once again, the image of the magician surfaced into Sophia Loren’s mind. Yes, he was a magician, a magician who revealed to her the magic of a thing called love. With all her might, she tried to shrug this feeling off and prepare for her nightly duties instead of letting this futile hope consume her thoughts. However, her bottled feelings, shaken by the chance encounter, shattered the walls of her resolve. Her eyes glistened with tears and she let out a sudden cry. She whimpered with pain and, finally, unable to bear it any longer, succumbed to the yearning and sorrow that threatened to overcome her very being, sobbing by the corner of the bed. It was only a matter of time before her body succumbed to physical and mental exhaustion and so, within a few moments, Sophia Loren fell in a deep slumber.

II.

Venice was an important center of trade and commerce in 16th century Italy; traditionally, merchants came together at this place twice a year to exchange luxurious cloths, handicrafts and several important goods. Little did she know that it was there that she would meet a young man who would change her life− Altheus, the son of one of the city’s prominent merchants.

Altheus was a shrewd and particularly clever gentleman for his age. While other teenage boys had been indulging themselves in racy comics and other inane diversions, he had been reading up on card tricks, optical illusions and other things often associated with magic. It would be safe to say that he has always been fascinated by the mysterious workings of the mind− the different ways through which men perceive reality. At an early age, he has set upon his heart a worthy, albeit seemingly unreachable, goal − to be the greatest magician the whole world had ever known.

However, Altheus’ ambition was quelled by the presence of his father. Like other parents at that time, he held the lock and key to Altheus’ future, keeping his son under the rule of an iron fist, always discussing his own plans for his son, but never allowing Altheus a say in the matter. It wasn’t long before he discovered Altheus’ secret passion, whence he set about doing all he could to deter his son from his ludicrous career choice. More than once, he attempted to throw away the improvised black cape of Altheus, as well as some of his other so-called ghastly things related to magic. Much to his dismay of his father, these things never failed to reappear in Altheus’ dresser, like magic.

With no clear end to the problem in sight, an idea suddenly struck Altheus’ father. Instead of taking his frustration out on his son, he thought that he would much rather take a different route. What better way to introduce his son to his future profession than to expose him to the field itself? And so, one day, he decided to take his son to the port with him as an apprentice.

Sophia Loren, on the other hand, was set to leave the country on that fated day. If it were not for her awfully preoccupied uncle who had some unfinished business to settle, she should have left the port at exactly four hours ago. As a girl who struggled in keeping herself on her toes since childhood, Sophia Loren decided to look around despite the clear instructions of his uncle to stay put while waiting at a brown bench where he left her. She walked around, seeing before her very eyes the majesty and sheer number of gigantic ships that she only knew about through her uncle’s stories before. As her eyes feasted on new and wonderful sights, she saw by the corner of her eye a boy about her age, shuffling an obviously worn-out deck of cards near a black post. She stared curiously at this boy, dignified with his bright-colored coat and long-tipped shoes. “What is this boy doing, sulking by the corner of a busy port?” she thought to herself. She got almost too carried away with her thought that her heart almost skipped a beat when something fascinating happened− the boy’s mysterious green eyes met her hazel eyes and a moment of understanding sparked in the hearts of these two young strangers.

“It is my sincerest hope that our deal be sealed as soon as possible."

“Rest assured, comrade, that minor inconveniences on your part shall not be in vain. I shall meet important contacts on the port today so I can obtain the products that you particularly specified. What do you say about meeting tomorrow for the final plan?”

“Your proposition seems to be pretty good. Drop by my abode tomorrow in Valle Verde, and let us finalize our plans once and for all.

The children of the two men were of course, Altheus and Sophia Loren. The boy and the girl met each other at the house of Sophia Loren the following day and a beautiful love blossomed out of nowhere, only to be destroyed by cruel fate. As a storm assaulted the mellow workings of two young hearts, so had robbers assaulted every chance of them being together. Sophia Loren and Altheus were separated and things were never the same again.

III.

The morning was bright and the lovely chirping sounds of birds greeted Sophia Loren as she raised both of her arms into the air to mark the start of the day. She quickly got up, straightened the creases of her clothes, and noticed that she was still wearing the same dress as when she attended the event at Verde Antique. Her false sense of serenity was once again betrayed as the previous night’s thoughts rushed into her mind.

She grabbed her tiny beige purse and her tiny, frail hands turned silently turned the knob in her wooden door. And just then, something peculiar and totally unconceivable happened. With her entire body electrified and her face frozen in time, her lovely brown eyes met the piercing gaze of a man.

“I believe you were expecting me.”

He was carrying a music box.

hottau

Remember that Prometheus story? That once, he divided the slaughtered animal parts into two packets. The bones were wrapped up in rich fat, while the ox-meat was wrapped up in intestines and nasty bits that looked less extravagant by far. Zeus chose the former and got furious when he learned that the good meat was given to humans.

This story exemplifies the good ol' quote "Good things come in small packages." When I say small, I mean inconspicuous, unapparent and definitely unexpected. My section has been, somehow, all that to me. The first time I saw the class list, my mind was taken into a complete blank. I knew but a very few people, and I found it hard to gauge my potential chemistry with the rest in the section. The night before the first day of classes, I knew that I had a lot of work to do. I had to smile, think of witty conversation starters, and really, look approachable.

Although, it seems that I forgot everything the moment I stepped out of the door in our house. I remember trying to talk with random people in the class and getting results which were kinda sorta not right (or favorable, I think). That day, I decided to stick with one old friend of mine instead. That went on for several days that some of our classmates thought of things that are well, kinda out-of-this-world. :))

As the weeks progressed, I warmed up to the section slowly. Lots of people in my section had quirky personalities but they were unique in their own way. In less than three months, I saw the different sides of a silent but deadly female classmate, a graceful robot, a guitar idol, and yeah, piano virtuosos. I also got to know my old classmates better, namely, a Glee character look-alike, a physics nerd who is VERY special to me. (haha right? :"> =)))) ), a horse and a fish duo, and of course, a whole lot more.

Tau has been, so far, everything that I could wish for. I could be loud, funny, emo, or anything I want to be at any time of the day, and I would be sure to have company. As cheesy as this may sound, I feel like I have something Tau-related to look forward to every day– whether it be a trip to the journal section with my TD friends, a maurag moment with my maurag mates, a LOL Sierra moment, or just about anything that gets me through stressful days brought about homeworks and requirements.

It seemed as though the people were nothing but mismatched threads here and there, but as I said before, we have formed a beautiful tapestry that is bound to stay forever. Well, at least I hope so.

tuesday nights

Curled up in a corner
Staring into space
Catharsis in October
While slowing down her pace

Stuck in the hourglass' curse
With the eleventh hour at hand
Her heart is about to burst
Traversing gloomy land

Yielding to the law of time
A messy past she left behind
With no reason nor rhyme
Her entirety's nothing but blind

She wonders about the opposite shore
With whom she shares the same horizon
A faint star reveals itself once more
Endangering a battle already won

But liberated she has been
From the power relinquished
In all the places she has been
The light of hope has never vanished

Now past the tough roads
And near the end of the ride
She approaches another abode
With her eyes open wide

sing-song

What is north? What is south?
What is life really about?
I've messed up my body clock
And life's realities I mocked
Never thinking I might just
Be taken into a complete blast

Now the fake pearls have faded
Along with my childhood completed
I stand on a thick border
Never sure of the next chapter

A barely perceptible figure remains in my mind
A picture of a man whose reality I've yet to find
A man so shrewd, adventurous and bold
Who resolved to see the grandeur of the world

He's Hercules, swift, steady and strong
In his voyages he once carried me along
His presence was a deep boom
Beaming waves in a room

But now the ground is shaky
And everyone has left me
In the verge of tears
Wading across the lake of fears
I made a silent, faint sigh


Just so no one could hear me.

i know a secret that can ruin my life forever.

Except... it may not be a secret anymore soon.

There really comes a low point in life when one does not know what to believe in anymore.

This moment may well be that point.

____________________________________

A soul has been ripped apart long ago, though I don't know how and I don't know when. The soul longed to widen its horizons armed with a golden heart and indomitable will, but along the way, it lost its bearings in a deep and mighty jungle. Luring vines and deliciously tempting fruits got the better of this soul, and, now devoid of its original sense of right and wrong, it drowned in the river of bloody sin, never to return to its pure state again. 

of shattered expectations

"To err is human..."

No one is perfect, but for most of us carry the erroneous notion that the people we hold in high esteem are free of faults. Many of our personal heroes are selfless, driven and virtuous− or so we think. The immaculate image embossed in our minds is often far from reality. Our senses fail us most of the time, muddling our perception and sense of judgment.

However we try to shun the reality, our idols cannot ever be possibly perfect.  Hot actors we drool over for their macho image may secretly shudder at the sight of spiders and frogs, while models with looks to die for may look hideous in the morning. The same goes for our parents, teachers and mentors who    have done outrageous things in the past that I would rather not speak of.

Still, there remains a deep sense of loss in the back of our minds when we realize that our heroes are not all that we crack them to be.  The long list of their indispensable traits and noteworthy accomplishments, as well as the perfect image we have formed in our minds, becomes momentarily pale when we encounter a bump that shatters our high expectations in these people.

It is natural to feel powerless after having discovered so disturbing a fact. Our universe centered around a certain (seemingly honorable but not really) human deity our may stop for a while, but we know that this we must outgrow this phase and return to the daily order of things if we are to keep our sanity.

When we encounter this bump, what do we do next?

Three choices:                                 

i)                 Turn a blind eye to the flaw (i.e., keep  our mouths shut and pretend we are unaware of the things we wish we didn’t have to know)

ii)               Find another idol

iii)              Confront the person and talk to him/her about it (only applicable if the person is someone we know personally)

Or  more appropriately, what should I do next?

"...to forgive is divine."

falling apart

Sometimes, the truth is right in front of you, yet you choose not to acknowledge it for fear of making your life more complicated than it already is.

Sometimes, the simplest questions are the hardest to answer.

Sometimes, confrontation seems to be the hardest thing in the world.

Is there some way to reset your mind and delete certain memories so you do not have to carry the burden of keeping a secret?

Should you push things to the limit and risk strained relationships, or keep your mouth shut and pretend that things are perfectly fine?

How do you treat an important person who lost your trust unknowingly?

you know amir?

I can totally relate to him right now.

two things.

A hopeful hello enshrouding impending farewell.
And an unveiled capsule ringing a familiar bell

Screwed torrent of emotions turning loose
Approaching infinity with nothing to lose
Explicit liber secundus.

P.S. Gonna go to bed now. Fluuuu.

strawberry yogurt ice cream

Today, I finally found a strawberry yogurt ice cream at a convenience store. After almost two years of searching, can you believe it? Ice cream is ice cream, but in my eyes, it was definitely something more. Last year, I'd often walk around the oval with my friends and pass by the area near the front lobby where people were selling ice cream. I'd ask the vendor if he has that specific flavor I was looking for. And I'd be disappointed as often as I'd ask him. That ice cream was out of stock forever, so it seemed to me.

That idea of that strawberry yogurt ice cream captured the essence of sweetness and an especially fond memory that I so longed to relish at that time. It was weird, kinda stupid actually, of me to think that if I could just take hold of that ice cream, things would change and somehow fall into place.

Fast forward to today. My Mom and I were looking for a place where we could park the car for some time, and somehow we settled into going to a gasoline station near our home. I entered the convenience store to buy anything, just so we could park our car.

I looked for something to satisfy my sweet tooth– chocolate or caramel-flavored ice cream, perhaps. But at the least expected moment, I caught sight of that special strawberry yogurt ice cream I was looking for. For a moment, I thought that the quest was finally completed and the sweet surging memories would soon follow.

But no. No memories. No sparks. No anything.

The awe-filled smile of mine quickly turned into a frown, but the convex curved slowly worked its way upwards again upon my sudden realization. I was free then already, no longer chained to the pointless hope planted in my mind by my past self. And at that moment, it occurred to me–ice cream is nothing but mere ice cream to me now.

Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

my church is cool.

Every time I attend the morning service in our Church, there's always something amazing to look forward to. Mind you, it's not limited to the scripture or anything holy. It's almost like watching a rock concert and  and listening to a TED talk with matching kick-ass videos or presentations after. The talk is always accompanied by a thoughtfully-designed powerpoint, so I pick up a lesson or two about typography every week. But more than that, the content of the talks is, more often than not, relevant to people in my age. No yawn-inducing, self-righteous talks there (or at least, none yet).

This week, it's the third part of a series they call "Original Pinoy Mindsets 2", or simply OPM2, which highlights somewhat negative aspects of the Filipino culture then relates it to the scripture. I'm ashamed to say that I haven't attended the service last week, and the week before that as well, but my family members told me that the talks were about "Lagay, Lusot, Lakad: The Trilogy of Maneuvers" and "Kanya-Kanya."

So anyway, this week's talk is wittily titled "Machonurin", which is of course, a combination of two words related to two conflicting ideas, namely, submission and subjugation. By all means, our society is a matriarchal one. Men may hold the seat of the authority in the house, but most of the time, they are more of figureheads and it's usually the women who are in charge of running the household.

There are two extreme leadership patterns in the family – one is the militaristic style, wherein men take pride in being the "padre de familia" and the sole arbiter in all the decision-making in the house. Women in the first case have little or no role except doing household chores and bearing children. The other one is the "ander da saya" syndrome, wherein females but do not only control house matters but the lives of their husbands as well.

The speaker cited one book (I can't remember the title) which provides an explanation of this persisting condition. In our society, people place double standards since childhood – boys can freely play in the streets, while girls are expected to help their mothers in the household chores. As a result, girls tend to mature earlier than their male counterparts. Also, In the process of, as I like to call it, early domestic internship, girls develop useful qualities such as insightfulness, ingenuity and resourcefulness.

The problem begins when women abuse these traits in a way that their husbands feel overshadowed and not as important as they should think they are. Some passive men prefer to pass the authority to their wives thinking that they could handle things anyway, and their wives in turn, get annoyed that their husbands are not being responsible in letting them take the lead ALL THE TIME. This may be caused by lack of effective communication between partners.

At that point, the speaker started relating the topic to a similar concept in the bible. Certain lines were mentioned here and there, but I won't mention them here anymore. They're kinda lengthy, plus no one would bother to read them anyway.

The talk also touched on relationships, and our pastor talked about establishing qualifications firsthand before starting the search. He then started the cheesy stories about him and his wife. Well, as for me, faithfulness is the first on my list. Even if I meet the perfect guy, I'll gladly kick him in the ass and leave if he's pissing me off with all the flirting. 

Bow.

mumunting yaman

Note: This is an essay I wrote for an writing contest last 2007.

Ang perlas na huwad, kapag kiniskis sa pisngi ng kapwa perlas, ay magagasgas, mag-iiba ang kulay at hindi na mawawala pa ang lamat na nalikha. Mapapahiya ang alahero na nagtitinda ng ganoong uri ng perlas. Bago makuha ang perlas na tunay, kailangang paghirapan ito. Sisirin sa pusod ng dagat. Hanapin at halughugin. Mahirap ang ganitong gawain dahil kailangan mong isugal ang iyong buhay upang magkaroon lamang ng perlas. Yaong hindi ka mapapahiya. Yaong kahit ikiskis sa ibang bagay, magagasgas nga ngunit mawawala rin ng kusa. Yaong kahit sunugin ay hindi mawawalan ng kintab at kinang pagkat tunay ngang perlas.

Alalaong baga, maikukumpara ang perlas na ito sa kabataan ng kasalukuyan. Upang maging tunay na perlas, kinakailangang dumaan sa pagsubok, hubugin at patibayin ng karanasan. Magiging produktibo lamang ang kabataan kung sila ay mapapalaki ng wasto at sapat.

Ito ang dahilan kung bakit kaylaki ng responsibilidad ng mga magulang na nagtatanim ng punla sa kanilang mga anak. Kawangki nila ang mga magsasakang nagtatanim ng mga buto sa katirikan man ng araw, makapagpatubo lamang ng punong magbibigay ng matamis na bunga.

Mistulang munting halaman ang kabataan na nangangailangan ng suporta mula sa komunidad upang magtagumpay at bumuo ng bansang maunlad at maginhawa. Ang mga institusyon sa ating komunidad tulad ng paaralan, simbahan at silid-aklatan ay nagtutulong-tulong upang humulma ng mga kapaki-pakinabang na indibidwal sa hinaharap. Patuloy na nagbibigay ng kaalaman ang mga ito upang masikatan ng sinag ng sining, karunungan at kagalingan tungo sa naghihintay na bukas.

Kinakailangan din ng kontribusyon ng pamahalaan upang matiyak ang pag-usbong ng mga mumunting buto. Diligan, alagaan at bantayan. Bantayang maigi nang hindi dapuan ng mga perwisyong insekto. Bantayan nang mataman upang hindi maligiran ng mga damong aagaw sa sustansya ng isang halamang kapaki-pakinabang. Tunay ngang ang halamang kapaki-pakinabang ay kabataan at ang mga insekto’t damo ay ang mga masasamang impluwensya na maaring gumapi sa kabataan.

Kung lalagumin natin ang lahat nang ito, kapag tigib na sa talino, galing at talento ang mga kabataan, kaya na nilang buuin ang ating bayang mahal. TInitiyak kong arkipelago man ang ating bansa, bibigkisin ito ng isang tanikala ng pagkakaisa. Oo, pagkakaisa ang siyang susi para buuin ang isang bansang nililigid ng pagmamahalan paggalang, kaunlaran at kapayapaan. Sa kamay ng mga kabataang huhulmahin ngayon ang mukha ng ating bayan bukas.

Kapagka naisagawa ito, maliwanag pa sa sikat ng araw na kayang-kaya na ng mga kabataang Pilipinong makipagsabayan sa mga ibang bansa. Maibabalik na rin ang magandang imahe ng bansang ating ginigiliw. Kung lilingunin natin ang ating kasaysayan, minsan nang tiningala ang ating bansa sa buong mundo nang humawak ng pinakamataas na katungkulan ang ating kababayang si Carlos P. Romulo sa Nagkakaisang Bansa. Kung kaya nating makipagsabayan noon, tinitiyak kong kaya rin natin ngayon. Kaya nating sabayan ang ibang bansa sa larangan ng sining, edukasyon at maging sa pulitika.

Kaya ang panawagan ko bilang kabataan ng kasalukuyan, kami sana’y hulmahing tunay. Mamumuhunan po kayo sa amin. Pagkat batid kong kung paano kami hubugin ngayon ay ganoon din ang katangiang tataglayin namin bukas. Kapagka matibay ang aming pundasyon, kayang-kaya naming buuin ang bansa tungo sa bantayog ng kaunlaran at nang ang ating bansa ay muling dumakila’t kilalanin bilang isang bansang matatag.

i'm antisocial.

(In response to the question, "What is your worst negative trait/behavior"?)

"No man is an island."

A seemingly no-brainer quote, yet one that I find hard to fully put to heart. I've been told that I sometimes exude an intimidating aura, which tends to shoo people away. Not that I mind, though. I prefer to be alone, except when I'm with my close friends.

Sometimes, though, I long for fun and stimulating conversations with strangers. Most people talk about nonsense crap these days but once in a while, I find a diamond in the rough, a person worth knowing and sharing ideas with. Of course, I may not be spared from utter quirkiness with that person either, but that I can usually deal with. I even find it cool sometimes.

And I'm not a big fan of parties either. I'd rather stay home and lie on my bed while reading my favorite book and drinking a cup of milk. I fee that small talk is 80% superficial, and that people always never mean what they say during those parties. They either i) beat around the bush, then reveal the favor they wanna ask from you after five minutes or so, ii) begin by asking what your life is like, then ask a gazillion questions about the Pisay system, so-and-so. I don't mind that at all, but sometimes, being asked again and again about exactly the same questions can get tiring (not to mention frustrating).

But no, if you think that I'm a mere stubborn brat who wants it her way and intends to keep it that way, you're wrong. I want to APPEAR more open (Machiavelli says you don't really have to be, just appear to be so) and more forgiving when it comes to these parties. My mom often chastises me for my behavior, and I don't want another "the talk" anytime soon. Also, I'm wondering if I'm missing something by being like this, which is why I'd like to see the other side of the fence before settling and becoming certified "AS", if ever.

P.S. Maybe antisocial can be the new emo. Hee.

an inconvenient truth

I don't get you. I wish I did, but I have lots of things I have to do besides wasting my time on this repeated maze that in a way's starting to get convenient anyway. So yeah, I don't care that I don't get it and I doubt I ever will.
______

I understand things perfectly now. I am secretly aware of your foolish plans, hidden desires, inner conflicts. Seemingly, I have perfected the art of contrivance, but my fears are not at all assuaged. I may have penetrated the inner lining of your mind, but in my hands is a messy jumble of this and that, a huge junk of useless information that is yet to make sense.

After everything I have extracted, I am back to square one.

911.

a bunch of pretty yet useless phrases in my head

shipwreck in my head

raptured thought vessels
gamma male*
reverberating mirage
puckered lips and playful prayers
enshrouded with blinding sparks
kangaroo thoughts (fleeting)
twiddling long brown locks
puffy cotton-candy skirt
signature stance
retroed the scene*
treading across liquid dreams
soulful slumber
contrived confession

econbiofilperio | if you don't mind it, it won't matter (oh really.)

emotions

Incomprehensible, irrevocable, unbelievable.

Emotions. I've always believed that people should guard their emotions. For me, it is the waterloo of every great man, the evil mark signifying the impending fall of every beautiful woman. Well-conceived plans are easily dissolved once this cunning creature creeps into the equation. People start becoming irrational, impulsive, vulnerable. They start expecting and holding on to empty words and promises.

Suddenly, people's hearts cease to become theirs. They enter the risky business of falling without any assurance of refuge nor momentary salvation. Maybe, for others, that is exactly what makes the whole thing worthwhile. But I beg to differ. The least I could do for my sanity is spare myself from this hopeless case.

Ahh, the freedom of a robot.

stopcock

I have this nasty habit of stopping just before reaching the finish line. When everything seems set and delicately perfect, my inner clock turns into a halt and I turn my back on victory.

I do this because I feel that finishing one long run and ticking that little circle shorten my grand to-do list and thus, bring me closer to life's end.

This line of thinking is erroneous, I know. Nevertheless, I'm saving all the goodness for now.

love

Sailors braving storms
Approaching seas uncharted
In search for sweet shore

this book is ♥

Yesterday, I found a wonderful book in the library called Writing Well: The Essential Guide. Instead of rereading the assigned novel for our English class, I took a break and asked a willing classmate to borrow the book for me since I didn't have my library card with me.

Synchronicity really seems to work wonders for me. Recently, I have been taking baby steps to sharpen my writing skills. Like this week, I decided to leave my stagnant old blog for good and make a fresh start through this writing blog. Heck, I even started attending my English Journalism classes this week as well, and I intend to continue doing so until the school year ends. So yes, I found the book greatly relevant to the  recent turn of events this week. 

I like writing, no doubt about it. I sometimes encounter resistance when starting a story, essay, or  whatever, but during lucky moments, my pen somehow finds a way to outwit the monsters that block my creativity well. Sometimes, though, I notice that my writing style is way too dependent on flowery words (instead of powerful verbs) and overused cliches (instead of cleverly-placed metaphors) It's wordy, frilly, and at its best, falsely profound.

I found the writing style of the author interesting since I felt that it provided a stark contrast to mine. I liked that he used the fewest words possible to convey his thoughts without sacrificing style, and in effect, wrote with commendable grace and thrift in words.

He mentioned in his book that writing is similar to our daily activities more than we think. Talking is very much similar to writing, except that in the latter, the coarse turns into fine, and  words are "compressed, clarified, enriched, heightened by thought and art, and set down on paper." Which is true, actually. I realized some of my bad writing habits, such as using a highfalutin word or wordy phrase when the simpler version could have done the job just as well.

Singing, according to him, can be compared to writing as well. Of course, I found that part more interesting than the others.

"In song, it's how you sing, not just what you utter, that counts. And so it is with writing. You do it and do it again; you're making a work that takes a finished form, that lasts, that plays again each time it's read; and it's not just what it means but the way it means that holds or loses your reader. The message is in the music. So make a beautiful noise. Still, writing isn't song exactly. If it's music, it's more Beatles than Beethoven; it's more Woody Guthrie than Giacomo Puccini."

And now, that's really something. Content is king, yes, but creating something beautiful also entails a lot of work in the form of proofreading, rewriting, revisions, and making final touches. There has got to be some balance between rhyme and reason, for if one drowns the other, the work either fails to move hearts and inspire because of extreme pedantry (oh no I'm doing it again), or gets trashed for lack of more decent structure.

Anyway, I still do not have enough time to read the book thoroughly for now, for it seems that the huge pile of requirements is getting the better of me now. Next week will not be more pleasant either, but I shall  find a way to read the chapters chronologically somehow soon.

personal blog rules

1. You should only post original content.

2. You should not restrict yourself in any way, for fear of making mistakes. Making mistakes is acceptable, since it is a part of the writing process. Aim for growth instead of perfection.

3. Post regularly here, instead of distracting yourself with unproductive diversions.

4. Don't think. Feel. (Tan, 2009) Think. But more importantly, feel. :)

2

You are so tired of drifting, hoping, failing miserably. But you simply smile, and they all believe you.

verbal alchemy

Base metals transform
Bidding adieu to the norm

Static thoughts that linger
Reach a point of total blur

Wild elements are suddenly shaken
Subdued bonds get finally broken

Thought enzymes catalyze reaction
Inspiring wildfire transformation

Amidst monochromic reality lies promise

Apparent delta in this journey's demise

The elusive gold springs out from nowhere
Reaching the inner circle of change's lair

some questions

Why do scientists still take great pains to search for the cure for cancer, despite knowing that all men, disease-free or not, are bound to die anyway?

Why do people choose taking a fairly safe job over leading a kind of life they really want almost every time, despite knowing that they will make ends meet and survive somehow anyway?

Why are men still afraid to jump off life's cliffs and let go despite knowing that their current state of reality is but temporary?

Is this really just a self-preservation thing (some innate driving force implanted in the recesses of our soul/body that prevents us from straying away from our "default human nature mode")? Or is there more to it?

on writing

What makes a good writer?

This is a fairly good question to start with since this blog was born out of my desire to sharpen my writing skills and spare myself from the hustle and bustle of social networks, at least for a while.

I have always considered myself as a writer. When I was a kid, I used to craft short stories and essays (I still didn't know they were called essays back then) about random things that caught my eye on my way home. The stories I came up with were occasionally serious, revealing sudden bursts of philosophical thought even, but really, most of them were either sappy or silly or as something which my older self will probably say, something you could easily call trash.

Despite this, the important thing is that I wrote things back then. Often.

Then entered the years of adolescence. Requirements, hell weeks and complicated things stormed my peaceful and uncomplicated life, and things were never the same again. I'd wake up in the morning, cram stuff, go to class, cram again, eat lunch, go home, then cram some more. I barely had time to relax, let alone write stuff. Needless to say, I never touched a pen the same way again. Or even if I did, it was merely because of a writing requirement in school.

Yes, I still considered myself as a writer, albeit a blocked and greatly unprolific one this time. This, I could largely attribute to my lack of free time, academic priorities, and my it's-so-long-it'll-never-end to-do list. That's about it. And maybe, just maybe, alright, outright perfectionism.

In my room lies a collection of half-filled notebooks containing notes in the first few pages, revealing my several unsuccessful attempts to keep a journal and stick to that one thing without getting bored and starting anew with another notebook. I still do try to write, but these attempts cause no more than frustration in my part every time the words fail to flow the way I want, or I find a minor loophole in a story I'm writing.

These past few months, my progress in my journey towards growth as a writer has almost been non-existent. Odds and bits of notepad files in my laptop containing snippets of my writing flood my desktop, but that's about it. More often than not, I find myself writing on the walls of my Facebook friends and surfing through my Tumblr dashboard, two activities that, though greatly entertaining, fare almost zero when it comes to total utility.

This is why I created this blog. For me, it's a conscious attempt to break my vicious cycle of doing practically useless things, getting guilty after, and doing the exactly same useless thing again. I want to change, and I want to cultivate my inner artist once again. I'll no longer try to keep things absolutely perfect because I know I'll never manage to do so. Occasional imprecise words, artistically-lopsided sentences, these are things that define my writing personality, and although it may not seem like them, stepping-stones towards growth.

It is really nice (in fact, almost magical) to relish my not-so-distant past, when silly and sappy were not necessarily trash, and when doing what I enjoyed-- writing-- was all that ever mattered. Many events have shaped me through the years, both for better and for worse, but I guess, all I really want is to become that same naive child again.

1

Sometimes, the mundane can be the ultimate epitome of the sublime, even for just a fleeting moment.  In a flash, the world turns into a stage and one suddenly becomes the lead in a play he has created for himself.

However, the impending reality of life soon sets in, creeping unnoticed at first, but becoming more apparent with the blooming of days. The frail, magical bubble pops, and before one knows it, the entire memory is gone.

Of Demons, Pisay and Futurology

When I was a child, the mere mention of the word hell conjured a grim picture that usually consisted of only two things – fire and a grotesque demon that my parents kept on talking about to freak me out. However, my idea of hell radically changed as I entered the Philippine Science High School. My childhood version of demons were characterized by long horns and mischievous smiles, but over the years, I realized that this strict definition could also be expanded to include sadistic and spiteful tendencies evidently seen in some of the teachers I encountered in the past.

My life in Pisay has not been a bed of roses; in fact, I had my own share of thorns fairly recently in the form of stress-inducing requirements. Hell weeks seem more unconquerable than ever now that I am a stone’s throw away from graduation. However, despite eternal nuisance that comes with spanning grueling path, I still never fail to make time for some of the finer pleasures in life− hanging out with friends, tinkering with my site and guess what, checking out my daily horoscope in the entertainment section of my favorite newspaper

I say that with no exaggeration. Check me out in the library some time, and there is a great chance that you will see me looking into that daily horoscope with friends or reading about Armageddon. My fascination with futurology and whatnot started when I chanced upon a book about signs and compatibility while roaming around a certain bookstore. I purchased that book, and the rest is history. A bit of information, though. I’ve always felt a strong affinity with astrologists glorified by history books such as the wildly famous Nostradamus. To add to that, I also seem to be a big fan of destiny and serendipity crap often seen in romantic movies. Surely, then, had I not seen that book, I would probably have taken interest in some other similar book anyway and launched my way to futurology.

Therefore, it came as no surprise to me when I landed on the Eighth Circle of Hell in the online Dante’s Inferno test. I have always preferred knowing things in advance, as opposed to waiting and facing the unknown. Indeed, the fourth chasm where poor beings are forced to walk with their heads turned around really seems to be my future place in hell. If it is any consolation, though, I know that I will be with Nostradamus, Madame Auring and other famous astrologists. It is but weirdly comforting to know my potential company in hell.

The online Dante’s Inferno test made me think about a lot of things− for instance, who would be my guide in my journey through hell if ever, and of course, if the possibility of reversing my supposed fate exists. If I could pick a guide, I would choose the fictional Dante Alighieri in Inferno himself for several reasons. For one, I would not want to pick a dead person whose soul resides in hell already, for fear that he may drag me into some deep and hidden chasm and never let me escape the gates of hell ever. In choosing the fictional and very much alive Dante, I would be assured that my interests would be taken care of. 

Also, he has taken this torturous path to hell already, so I know that he could share some stories about his past experiences and give me lots of insights, which other inexperienced people could hardly provide. Last but not the least, I am greatly drawn to this character, and it would bring me great pleasure to meet him in person and have him as my guide.

As I tap my keyboard keys to write the last paragraph, I am left to wonder− would I really want to embark on a journey through hell like Dante, and do I really feel comfortable with my possible circle in hell? As it turns out, my answer to both of these questions is a flat no. I would want Dante Alighieri to be my guide if and only if I had no other choice but to go through this path. Hell, it is unbelievably hot in hell. Also, I can be fascinated by the fact that I would be with Nostradamus if ever my soul entered hell, but deep inside, I would want to experience eternal happiness and fulfillment in heaven.

So I guess I’ll skip reading my daily horoscope tomorrow. Or not.

Perfectly Flawed

When asked to tell my tale in exactly 50 words.

As a kid, I dreamed of a perfect life, but life went on as that desire faded away. I rediscovered the world in a camp, but was jaded by lectures; savored infatuation’s magic nine years ago, but broke my heart recently. Inseparable elements defined my life− highs and lows that popped my brains out. Surely, I didn’t get my wish, but now I know better.