I've Moved!

I've moved!

This blog has meant so much to me for whoa 5 years now, but it has run it's course. I feel too.. cluttered here. Encumbered. I find myself weighed down by the number of drafts i've kept here in perpetual limbo, too afraid to post, too nervous to be invigorated into action.

I've addressed this blog in the first person so many times, but i know the truth in that i address no one but myself. In many respects, thumbing through it now is like looking at mirror. It is, as i fear, painfully accurate - i can see past so many things. Some things, i forget. Others, i willfully force myself to.

Confession. I've kind of given up writing for a long while there. What little i've written from 2013-2014 are half-fictions - ideas that can neither stand on their own nor conclude their own endings - frustrated self-pitying posts that benefit no one and extremely vague entries that just hint at.. more vague things.

Rattled, i decided to write on pen and paper instead, as if the tangibility of my skin would allow the stories themselves to be more substantial, to be more real. Some pages i'd tear and burn. Others i merely doodled on. But there were a few i kept for the future me to use. Mostly letters, addressed to the future version of me.

I like writing. It feels nice to say this, not only because it reaffirms a strong part of my identity, but also because it's nice to actually do something i know i like for a change. Truthfully, I lack the training and sometimes I confuse myself with what I write. But i like it, y'know. I forgot how good it is to write just for the heck of it, as an end in itself.

It... really feels nice.

^ click! :)

Does This Darkness Have A Name?

Mood: Okay

Now Playing: Adagio in G minor, Depapepe

I have always disliked hospitals. Clinics, waiting rooms, lobbies – I hate the sterile efficiency of it. It might be an exaggeration to say that I’ve lived a quarter of my life inside hospitals, but it just feels that way, even longer.

When I was born, my mother had the unfortunate accident of getting measles, right when she had me. This was the common explanation offered when I asked people why I got congenital cataracts as a kid and had to have them surgically removed. Basically my first activity as an infant was not to crawl or to grasp onto things or to develop reflexes, but to lay on an operating table as (I imagine) doctors cutting up my eye and all of that sick medical stuff that they do.

After surgery, it was just an endless parade of medications. Things like eyepatches, coke-bottom glasses and other such things? Bring it on. Anyway, there’s this thing, called an intraocular lens. It just shoves a lens right in there to replace the one clouded by cataracts. As a kid, I just imagined it’d be something along the lines like a contact lens, only um, more inside the eye itself. I was told I could do probably do the surgery once I’m in my teens, but hey, look. I’m in my 20s now. Apparently my eyes are too fucked up to even bother – it might just aggravate everything. And now I have glaucoma (which pretty much like having high blood pressure, except on the eye’s inner fluids), on top of all things.

Which up until yesterday, I thought to be true. Turns out I don’t have it in my right eye after all – there’s just this... cavity. Or wait, not a cavity, a valley on an otherwise smooth eyeball, which the doctors mistook for glaucoma. Having that depression is sort of like a precondition for it; I might not have it now, but who knows someday, in the future, I might.

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Wala lang. It’s not fun to have to go around hospitals all the time, especially when you don’t really like them to begin with.

Some nurse person explained to me that when you have glaucoma, the first thing that goes is the periphery – just the edges. Then it slowly eats away until it leaves just the center of your vision; essentially forming a literal tunnel vision. Like you’re constantly on a train. Heading off to who knows where.

...it’s infinitely depressing, like you have some sort of expiry date you can’t see. I don’t know if I feel cheated, as the doctor say that the depression on my right eye is something I was born with, like I was predisposition’d from the get-go to have this. Whatever this is. It's difficult to understand, and is just so hard to live with sometimes. 

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In other news, September is looking to be a pretty big week because omfg, MIBF AND I'm leaving the company in a few weeks, too so there's that.

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In other, other news - my sd card died on me, along with all of the photos i took on my baguio trip. Fuck.

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And this quote from One Tree Hill:

Does this darkness have a name? This cruelty this hatred. How did it find us, did it steal into our lives or did we seek it out and embrace it? What happened to us that we now send our children into the world like we send young men to war, hoping for their safe return but knowing some will be lost along the way. When did we lose our way? Consumed by the shadows swallowed whole by the darkness. Does this darkness have a name...is it your name?

gdmt, one tree hill why do you take so long to download

Hourlies

Mood: meh

Now Playing: Be the Song, Foy Vance, 

HOURLIES:
12:00 AM:
Interviewing this motherfucker for a job reference. She was just the kind of person that would not stop talking, even though i kept on prompting questions. Sigh.

12:20 AM~ish:
Screamed internally. I kind of lost myself for a while. Pondered what to eat for lunch, craved some pastries. But nope, no pastry shop open this early or this late.

5:00 AM:
still did not meet company productivity goals. Hung around after work to say goodbye to Lester, who's moving out to the offered UK shift. Could not believe he's leaving. Thought about my situation. Made plans after work, crossed out initial plans to go home early and sleep.


5:30 AM:
Went out to breakfast at Chowking, talked with Rea a bit about leaving while at the ATM station. Fell asleep after eating and dreamed about some people, some warmth of a hand, some whisper of a smile. Woke up, made plans to go to Baguio for the 6th.

8:00 AM:
The others were planning on going to The Purple Oven to get Rea's mom a loaf of bread. Said goodbye there, and headed on to walk for some time.

8:30 AM
Ended up at Mom and Tina's, bought some overpriced cheese and bacon pandesals (22 pesos for no larger than a meatball) because what the heck. Place is really fucking cute. My kids will eat here someday.

8:45 AM
Got lost and took a wrong turn somewhere - ended up trudging to Glorietta instead of the Triangle. Was already too far gone in my thoughts when i realized this, so i just walked up to Glorietta instead. Asked Das to come and pick me up, hehe.

9:00~ish AM
Had a panic attack.

9:05 AM
Recovered.

9:30 AM
On a bus going home, slept most of the way. Took a call from Das saying yes, she'll pick me up because she's a good Ate. Decided to spend the time at a 7-11. Decided to get a chili dog, ended up dropping the first one i grabbed, squirting chili into my shirt and falling asleep for a solid minute. What is sabaw. Went to goldilocks to get fresh lumpia for nanay because she has done so much for us and napped a bit.

10:00 AM
Ate Das acquired! Talked about driving and career shit. Felt glad to have an ate like her.

10:30~ish AM
Home! Turns out she bought some pastries too, from the purple oven. Mothership bought milk with oats Happy Saturday indeed.

11:00 AM
Slept.

8:00 PM
Woke up and got dressed to go to Arvin's, with the three cans of corned tuna he requested.

9:00 PM
Arrived. Was pleasantly surprised to know that Gabro and Ernest will be joining us - two people who don't really know each other but two cool people just the same. Ona is so fucking ripped it makes me want to go for a run everyfuckingday, and AJ is still AJ. Bonty will also be making an appearance, and Drazen/"Ace" is on his way, so what the heck. Surprising. but definitely and incredibly awesome news.

10:00 to 12:00 PM
Big shit pizza arrived - started to pick at the edges, hehe. Liquor was served, started to feel tipsy, but fuck you because i can drink more so pass me that cup. Decimated the first "mixed" tub of drink in an hour, (RPG, i think) started on the rum the next.

Some context: Ernest is this guy Arvin and I went to grade school together. He's an ncredibly talented person - a school favorite for general info contests and for heaps of other awards. I changed schools in high school, he stayed. Now a UP-LB graduate, he spends his weekends going to clubs, drinking, and having a good time.On the weekdays, he works for a building near the world trade center, organizing events and shit.

Gabro is this guy we met in highschool. His full name is Jason Gabronino, but most people just call him Gab, or Gabro. Has a degree in IT, but currently, as he so flavorfully puts it, spends his time "gym-bahay." He also only started drinking a few weeks ago, so. Hehe.

ANYWAY. GREAT SESSION MOTHERFUCKERS. Spiked drinks with chili sauce and garlic mayo shit. Someone vomited, someone peed, someone fell to the ground and someone got really drunk and flashed everyone.

1:00 to 2:00 AM
Party had to break up - hatid hatid mode. I'm guessing this is why i always favor to go last, so i could take the time to say goodbyes.

3:00 AM
Back at Arvin's. Tried to drink the lychee flavored shit, but nope. Too disgusting. Retreated to the house. Everybody except Bonty and Ona were all floored and snoring within minutes. I was awake.

3:00 AM
Talked with them for a long time.

"...overwhelming, humbling, and amazing." - my brain at 3:00 AM

7:00 AM
Roused everyone to clean up. Got some coffee to sober up - discussed what happened last night and who did what.

7:10 AM
Watched the morning mass with Arvin's family.

8:00 AM
Started walking and biking home.


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It just feels like i'm too far gone sometimes. Too far gone to quit, but too far gone to keep on going. It is incredibly tiring having to think all the time. I really suck at making decisions, and more often than not i find myself thinking what could have happened if i did it the other way around, yknow? I'm just that kind of person - i am a wreck of a train crash, wrapped in thoughts and feelings, encased with some nuts, dipped in wtheck. I sound delicious, but let me ruin the fantasy - i don't.

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it has been a humbling experience,
listening to the sound of water
hitting the glass windows 
with such force 

such abandon

such tenacity

while i sit
trapped in this cold metal bus
as i wait to arrive at my destination

Stories

Mood: Sad Now Playing: Blue Skies, Noah and the Whale

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It's been quite a while.

I've been finding myself slipping into memories so easily. Like a bird of prey that just glides in and out of the water, i find myself slipping in and out of everything, parting waves and waves of anxiety, worry, and fears so easily.

Anyway, this picture was taken the week before last. A lot of plans were made to go out of the city, to explore new beaches, (heh)sunrises and sunsets, but ultimately all of that planning (or the lack of it) lead us to here, to this place right smack in Manila, a few rides from UST. There was absolutely no planning involved; we just specified a time, a place and a date, and bam. There we were. I distinctly remember coming home to a facebook message telling me that a bunch of people would come by in the late afternoon to make Jello shots. Sure, no problem, I typed in, my hands dancing on the keyboard and my mind racing to see what part of the house i should clean up first.

We were so careful in making these; we made sure that the right amount of flavor was put in and the taste was enough and such... but nope. Ultimately they all just tasted the same. Walang lasa. haha.

The next day found me lugging about a dozen of these things in an old 3 litre ice cream box, two boxes of nachos, a quarter pound of ground beef, a dozen frozen hotdogs and some other things around the city. We crashed at Nichola's and spent a far longer time cooking nachos, baked potatoes, and other stuff than we did eating.

A perfect afternoon, that's what it was.

Anyway, we can't stay out too late there, so we cleaned up and settled in at Fessa's, way up north (heh). We tried finishing of the Jello shots (a single 3 litre box was still left. strangely we didn't seem to finish it all. i wonder why) while playing cards in the wee hours of dawn, but nope. The bed called out; it was useless to resist.

After cooking breakfast, we hung around at their front steps and used their videoke machine. Theirs was this huge wooden monster on wheels, the kind that you had to press buttons to list down your song.

It's funny though, how a person claims ownership of a song. I could name three songs that are inexplicably tied to a single person, simply because it's part of his/her own little song menu. Hours and hours of playing Rockband has its benefits e. Haha.

After that, it was back to the south again, this time to the area near MOA, where this cute little Korean salon existed: Tiara. Pek had apparently inherited the right to a voucher for a curling procedure worth more than a PlayStation 2 for a just fraction of it, and we were to witness the rebirth of our straight-haired friend.

After a few minutes of trudging here and there at MOA in search for the perfect curling formula, it was time to part ways.

Yep. Just ways. Not destinies.

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On my way home from Lawton one evening, i happened upon this guy from high school. It was surprising really; i climbed into the back of the van (at the very back) for some shut-eye, and when i plopped into my seat, i didn't realize that i knew the guy. He greeted me, and my default xbc instincts came in. I said hello back and asked how he was doing. Anyway,some background: we weren't exactly close, and i'm sure that calling him a friend would be a great stretch. I only just knew the guy from my freshman and sophomore years, but we've always remained amicable all throughout high school.

Anyway, he just quit from his work. He's now unemployed, but he's happy, as he's taking the time to review for his upcoming test for ambassadorship. Anyway, when i voiced out my feelings about work and it's complexities, he handed me a card for the chief recruiter of the company that he's worked for.

I protested, saying that it's too much ganyan ganyan, but he wouldn't hear a word of it. He left the van with a little salute and a wave, and i waved a back.

Just wanted to post that here. Little kindnesses, y'know.

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Anyway, I just wanted to stress out: we're all past 21! This picture was taken just a year ago, and wala lang. Si Nicholes ang pinaka bata, kaka 21 lang e. But aun. We're all mature kids, explosions and fireworks waiting to happen.

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I've just recently made a pretty big decision, and wala lang. I hope it all turns out well.

... And Would Walk 500 More

Mood: sick
Now Playing: I'm Gonna Be, The Proclaimers

Oh god i am sick. Like as in capital S sick. I keep on sneezing and i can't sleep and i just want some spicy cha han with some wanton on the side.

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I just recently watched the ending of How I Met Your Mother and the appearance of the mother is just... wow. I kept expecting some plot twist to happen. But no. She had the bass guitar, she wore boots, and was also going to Farhampton. She also had that fucking yellow umbrella. aslkjlasdfj. Part of me didn't want to believe it. The series is finally fucking ending, you know? There is only so much that the mind can process.

I've been watching this show really closely with two of my friends, and all of us had the same sentiments when we finished watching. Just. Wow. It's really happening. It's really going to end. The whole cast of actors are looking really old right now - even Barney. I'm not sure how i feel about that. Part of me is excited. But there's also a part of me that's really scared it's going to end. It's like fucking graduation again.

I guess in some way or another, watching a show end makes you aware of the passage of time, eh.

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In other news, i'm planning on buying a camera~ It's a Lumix LX7 . Maybe then i'd consider putting more photos here, y know. I'm not exactly much of a photographer, and i won't even go so far as saying that i know the basics. I'm not sure where i stand on the whole level of shooting things. But i guess sucking at something is the first step to being sort of good at something, eh?

Yep

Mood: none Now Playing: none

It feels like forever since i've written down anything here. I don't know what happened.

Actually, that's a lie. I know exactly what happened; i started writing. Then I stopped. There are so many reasons to write, i know, I used to say that. I believed in things. I believed that In The Writing we put down to paper the lines in our head. I did. But right now, there are just about a thousand reasons not to.

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Today is May 5th, and right now i have a lot of pending drafts here. It's incredibly cluttered. It's... just so messy here.

I'm still at my job. I type a lot faster right now than my old college self, and i don't trip as much as i do say, last year. It feels like so much has changed, but at the same time, so little. I don't know what i want to feel. To feel is to lie yourself on the ground, susceptible and unsuspecting.

Just yesterday, i kind of talked it out with two people from work and i found myself saying things that i've always known were in the back of my head that I was just scared to admit.  Maybe it was a bad idea to think too much, when i was just starting to get out of a hole i dug for myself. But it happened. And now i'm writing again. I don't know how long i can delude myself into thinking that things will get better soon. I know things will get better, yeah. I just don't know how soon it'll have to be.

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I think of everything that happened
in the shape of bus tickets
that i purposely misplace
in the crevices of my bag,
in between a book i read and
in pockets, cups, and cases
so i could look everywhere

and be reminded of
the placesi have seen
and how much more

i have to go

Lengthy

Mood: Fine 

Now Playing: Crash Into Me, Boyce Avenue Cover

Up to the present time, writing is still hard for me. I'm out of practice. Out of sync with, well, the natural order of my being. I've been complaining about this for quite a bit now, but to do something about it somewhat unthinkable. I still have two unfilled notebooks, and to touch them reminds me too much of the things that I have to do.

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I haven't properly talked about work yet, have I? My official title is an HR interviewer at BackCheck, a Human Resource firm that provides pre-employment background checks on different clients around the world. Basically what I have to do is to pull up a bunch of people's files and talk to some people. I'm not really sure I can go onto specifics, seeing as it's a company which is pretty big on security and all that... so, yeah. Or maybe I'm just putting on an aura of mystique and importance, haha. Nah, kidding; I'm not really sure though, and I don't want to lose my job.

There is one thing I'd like to recount though. On on occasion, as I was ending the call, the person I spoke to said how glad he was that some people actually do the extra mile to know who they're hiring. I was pretty lost at that. Up to that point, I haven't been thanked properly. People just do the notions, y'know? You get to find that out pretty early. Saying "thanks for your time" and hearing "yeah no problem, goodbye" gets to sound pretty mechanical from early on. And I dunno, just getting thanked in that way is such a suckerpunch to the gut. Pow. For a second, you matter. You are appreciated.

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Talking about work is taxing. Mainly in that what I really want to do for the rest of my life isn't exactly a desk job such as this. But the pay is really good, and I feel lucky to be earning a bit. It's a jarring experience to shell out a hundred pesos for food since you know you actually worked for that bill. But the jarriness fades away when you realize that you actually worked for that 100 peso bill. It feels good, to be honest.

There is also a certain time during the month that you ask yourself what you really want to be, what you really want to do, and it mostly comes during payday. Everything is put into perspective. How much money are you going to put into your "for the future" funds and how much of it is going to that camera you've always really wanted but haven't got the moolah to get.

Things like these sometimes keep me up during the day (I can't sleep so well at the night anymore). But I feel really grateful that I still have a home to go to. And well, not have bills to pay.

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Going home one morning, I had this sudden urge to see the sea. I dropped off the bus at Baclaran and started trudging towards the bay area of MOA. Ang jologs, ikr. But I stopped for a bit at the subway by Blue Wave to get provisions before I continued walking. It was a weird experience to walk through an empty parking lot, and it's one of those memories I think I'll remember.

As luck would have it, that Sunday was the UAAP cheerdance competition dance, and at 6 in the morning, FEU thought it was appropriate to mingle around the stadium. I turned tail away from the crowd and found a spot near the end of the area, near some oldies who were stretching for their morning run.

The sea was still as dirty as ever, and the salty smell of seawater with just a hint of garbage wafted through the air. I breathed it in, sat on the cold and slightly wet ledge and waited for the emotions to come. They were not sad or anything, but it's just a really weird feeling when you come to a particular place and suddenly realize that you've been here before, and you were not alone.

I stood up at around 8 in the morning, and picked my way through the already growing crowd of students. It's funny, really. How sad we feel sometimes even when we have so many people crowding our space.

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To the me in the future, please take time to travel. Preferably for a month. That is all.

Tropical Love

Mood: fine
Now Playing: Skinny Love, Bon Iver

Sometimes, things are just indescribable.

On the way home from work today, (I work at BackCheck as an HR interviewer, by the way) I had two stops before going home. I stopped at Tropical Hut for breakfast, and the old parish church near home.

Tropical Hut recently just cemented over a good half of their premises. Literally - where at least two rows of tables and seats should have been stood a concrete wall. I'm thinking it got bought off, since the wall was made of concrete as opposed to the wooden walls construction usually use. Tropical Huts aren't really top of the line fast food chains. Have you ever seen a Tropical Hut at an SM before? I mean like a huge big spot, not in the food courts or something like that. I'm guessing they aren't really that hot at the moment.

But I don't know. I still like eating at that place. I've come to decide that I like breakfasts after all, and Tropical Hut still serve the same coffee that makes my stomach a bit funny. (Possibly because it comes with a glass of juice, so)

I like eating there.

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Work has been pretty straightforward. I keep hearing plans on how long other people are going to stay, or maybe of what they're going to do after, but I don't know. I don't have any concrete shit going on.

Maybe I agree, when this morning over breakfast at McDo, people told me that the work can be kind of demeaning. I mean, no one ever graduates out of college thinking that he's going to interview people up. Even I don't want that.

But it's a start, I guess. I don't know if I'm just trying to convince myself that I'm not putting my life on hold. I have no idea if this is my brain talking, rationalizing stuff. I don't know by convincing myself that "it's just the first step of many" I'm covering up some stuff. I just don't.

The things I know about the future seem so little.

Safe Harbor pt II

Mood: alright
Now Playing: she doesn't get it, the format

June
In my first interview, the interviewer asked me what my long term-plans were. I thought of saying the truth, but i decided at the last minute to say that I'm looking at the worlds right now, and i want to have a taste of this world. Then at the end of it, I changed my mind and said the truth: that I have always wanted a family.

I finally got around the city to go up and get some of the documents, and it wasn't really that bad at all. They were good days, good days indeed.

July
After a while, the interview questions are routine: what's your name, how many minutes will you be commuting if ever, how much will your rate be, yknow, those kind of things. Then suddenly, an interviewer stumps you with a question:  "in this position (HR recruiter for some firm) what do you think will be the most important question to ask an applicant?" after some thought, I came up with a fantastic "how interested are you in the position?" Needless to say, they never called.

I've been running around the city a lot during those days. In between, i slept and thought of how best to, yknow. Exist.

August
I've landed a job. I start on Aug 6, and today is Aug 5 already. I don't know what to feel, or even if i do want to feel. I feel like talking, but I don't want to talk. I've just gone a 48 hour family trip, and I'm tired as hell. But still, I've been writing for the past hour already.

As I'm typing this, the rain still won't let up, and it falls vertically, almost as straight as an arrow. I'm kind of missing the time when it swayed with the wind, and the raindrops danced. The droplets didn't fall as straight as they are now, but in random patterns, buoyed by the gusts of wind.

There really is no indirect meaning to what I am about to say, and it is random as I would allow myself in this public log, but I just need to get this off my chest. I'm kind of missing everybody.

Safe Harbor pt I

Mood: alright
Now Playing: skinny love, bon iver

Oh hello, blogspot. I'm really sorry for neglecting you so. A lot of things have happened since I last wrote here, and I've really been meaning to write down things... its just hard to pen the moments, you see?

March 
In the weeks preceding graduation, people were nicer, friendlier, funnier and generally more nostalgic. Graduation goggles, anyone? It can be quite difficult differentiating what really happened from what people felt happened. I'm pretty guilty myself. I've written two letters addressed to the future me, you see. And i've read one of them already. What was I thinking, indeed.

From the letter:

"... I've been thinking, and if you're reading this then this means that you need to; and I have only a few things to say to you, my future self. Don't be afraid to make mistakes with people. They will inevitably do things that will make no sense, that will make you bleed from the inside and they will be just so infuriating. But still. Do not be afaid... [sic] "

April 
Graduation day was far from what my 10-year old self pictured. For one thing, there was no confetti, nor hats thrown in the air or doves flying by the hundreds. But one thing he did got right was the huddle at the end, and the feeling you get on your stomach when you're in freefall.

I have never felt so many conflicting emotions at the same time. We're all in one piece, yep. But at the same time, it was the end of a long-trudged road; we were at the end of the road after many decisions and shit, but we didn't reach the same spot at the same time. It actually is pretty hard and sad for me to say this, as I understand this is quite the sensitive subject. But please allow me some room for apologies, if needed. I'm typing without pausing, thinking without braking.

People talk about the experience of graduation itself. They seldom talk about how it feels afterward. It feels like shit. Then, gradually, it gets better before it reverts to shit again. I keep thinking of how much similar it is to a diver walking the plank at 20 feet up.  People egg you to go on, and when you finally do make the leap, there is much cheering and stuff. But the similarities end there. With the diver, it starts the moment he jumps from the board and ends with him breaking the water's surface. At that moment, he finishes. He's done. He can go home now. Graduation starts the moment it starts, and ends the moment it ends, but you haven't really broken the surface of the water yet. You're still in free fall. You thought the leap was the end of it, but it turns out you're just beginning.

May 
If April was a milkshake of feelings, May was the bland taste of water after the ungodly swirl of milkshake flavors that was April. Plans were made and remade at the last minute, people kept saying they missed each other terribly and things were broken and mended at the same time. I think I thought of a lot of things at this time, that I inadvertently hurt myself just by thinking some stuff, too. Overthinking, you will be the death of me.

People kept pestering me to get the needed mature stuff: NBI clearance, SSS and all those other government stuff. I spent most of they day in my room, sleeping. If I could have, though, nothing would please me more than to shout at their faces "I DO NOT FUCKING WANT TO FUCKING DO ANYTHING."

We all finally got together on the last day of May, almost dawning on June. It was as random and fun as ever, and there are lots of memories I'd like to keep on remembering for a good chunk of time. It felt awfully familiar. Tagaytay was cold; I couldn't help but shiver for a bit on the way home.

Walks

Mood:  Fine. 

Now Playing: nothing

I think it was in a tv show. Yes, i think it was. It was most certainly The Sheldon Cooper that said that the unconscious works best when doing menial stuff, since the menial stuff occupies another part of the brain, freeing the unconscious to do what it does best.

Or at least i think that's how it goes.

Disconnected. Is this the right term?

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In other news, i took a walk today, and i ended up a few paces away from my old elementary school. There was nothing there that felt familiar, but at the same time, it felt as nothing ever really fades away. For one thing, the grass was too green. For another, there wasn't enough air.

Feels like I'm drowning in strings of lost connections.

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In other, other news. I've been trying to figure out a lot of things lately. And most of the time, to be honest, they fit perfectly. To be even more honest, fitting the pieces of the puzzle hurts. More than what i thought it'd be.  To be even more honest than before, it kind of hurts quite a bit.  To be really, completely, honest though, I'm finding that I don't mind it all that much.

Up Against The Wall

Mood: feeelings. 

Now Playing: hoppipolla, sigur ros.

This will be a post about my brother. When you were born into this world, i was probably around grade school back then. You were loud, obnoxious and generally a spoiled sonofabitch. There are many theories; my favorite is the one where you were cradles so hard your head was hitting the wall already. That should have shook so many neurons out of your system.

Anyway, we enter into your childhood. You watched tv than what i should have thought was necessary. Your icons were not sesame street o batibot, but rather beyblades, crush gear, and all of the anime that the local networks thought were interesting. You spent your mornings building not Legos or K'nex as your sister and i did, but you played with toys that had guns and sometimes had actual shooting mechanisms. There was a time when the house was full of pellets and shit it was difficult to walk around without embedding one in your feet. You were raised in a house of cynics; i was just hitting high school and your sister was just trying to last through college. Needless to say, we both felt like we were masters of our world then, and we were tired and jaded already.

But you came along to fuck things up a bit. Suddenly i had this little kid who used to tag along everywhere. I think most of the reasons why you chose my school in the first place was because you thought we'd be in the same class together. I was in third year, and your section was just right below ours. You visited me sometime during lunch, as you disliked having to carry your own baon, and Nanay would have to go and deliver it to you.

You didn't fit in, kid. The classes were too long and too hard, you said. The doctors advised a more quiet environment for you, somewhere where they didn't have 40 students in one single section. So, after just one year at my school, you switched schools to a more closer one to home. The students there were only about half of what you were used to.

Now, as of the present writing, you've chosen to enroll in your old school back then. Even the teachers were surprised. I could tell they weren't used to getting students for high school education.

Now, you lock the doors and hang out with kids who are on their way to delinquentville. You spend your spare time locked up in your room playing your console games and you've learned how to call those soldiers on screen motherfuckers, cunts, and other language even i am shocked of. You ask for things from mother daily, and you throw these tantrums when everything goes to shit in your plan. You're listening to shit music, and i know i've got no right to judge your taste in music, but can you just pick a song that doesn't cuss at people, or glorify stupid stuff? You've even been doing things that are just plain wrong, even for you. I know you're better than this. You rarely help out at the house much, or even none at all. Even when we're blatantly trying to trigger your Christian guilt to just freaking care, y'know? About us, your family. Because you don't seem like you care at all. I know it might just be a phase, but please can you just give us a sign that you're okay. Stop fucking hiding in your room. We might drive you crazy, i know that from experience. Hell, They also drove me crazy when i was at your age. But you know what brought me back from the darkness every single time? It was the same people i was trying to turn away from. That's just the thing. You have to stay sane, and get past all of these shit. It fucks you up, but nobody gets through life a virgin. Life fucks everything up. (Cobain)

And even though i said all that shit about you i still fucking love you, you know? Cuase you're my freaking brother, and you're the only one i've got. I know you have problems focusing and shit. And maybe the time will come when you'll need all those pills they have to make you focus more. And even though you have about 6 years of high school education ahead of you, and most likely your siblings will be the on to pay you through all of your future expenses, God. I just fucking want you to know that you'll never be completely alone you stupid, fucked up, shit faced bastard. Even when everyone else fucking leaves you, we never will.

30DC: Day Five

Mood: fine Now Playing: Photograph, Donora

5 things that irritate you about the opposite sex/same sex 


Opposite Sex:
1. When you complain about being left by bastards, when in reality, you just fall for the same kind of bastards all over again. I mean, come on. There are lots of great guys out there that won't break your heart.
2. When you don't think before you speak. Or when you don't google before you post.
3. Posting a status that says how lamentably ugly you are, when the truth is there's nothing wrong with you and you just need the attention. Grow the fuck up.
4. Whores by design AND decision.
5. When you think you can just get people whatever the fuck you want by acting sexy, please stop it. There is nothing more ugly nor as disappointing, as seeing someone make a complete slut out of herself.

Same Sex:
1. You fuck around and act like a dick, then suddenly become as sweet as honey when people you want to impress come in.
2. When you have little to no concern over everything else that does not concern yourself. This fucks up the social balance of the world, yknow.
3. Acting like a prick that got all that swagger.
4. When you fuck around women and treat them as rags, when they really honestly loved you. This is where the social stigma comes from, fucker.
5. All muscle, no brain. But then again, the world needs some pack mules.

Bonus: Things that irritate me in general about people
1. How the fuck can you keep fucking around people and don't expect karma? Imagine a hundred people wishing for your death each day? That's gotta mean something, and i'm not talking about mojo and stuff; a hundred people can actually kick your butt pretty easily.
2. People without basic courtesy. Did your mom never teach you any manners, mofo?

Hour and a Half

Mood: melancholic Now Playing: coldplay, fix you.

The place i live in is very quaint, but it's so far flung that most the places i need to be are so... distant. It's unsettling, y'see, because not only is it a harrowing experience to flag down an FX at 7 in the morning (oh wait, there aren't any at that hour) but it's also an experience to sit down quietly for about an hour and a half.

An hour and a half. I used to think that this time frame was as long and dragging as balls, but as time went by, it carried on a different meaning. It's the time it takes me to wake up every morning - to PROPERLY wake up every morning. It's the time it takes for a class in my building to end every Tuesdays and Thursdays. It's the time it takes to sufficiently feel the muscles in your body tense after a good session of Rockband. But most of all, it's the time it takes for me to get home from the university. Hey, if you do the math, i have sat around public vehicles for around 27 000 minutes in my four years as an undergrad. And that's excluding the summer classes, the impromptu sessions and other things that are worth mentioning, in due time.

But enough ranting. It's this gap - that hour and a half mark - between my destinations that signals my brain to turn off all signals and inhibitions and just... let go.

You know how these things go.

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There is just so much to say that i don't know how to begin. To tell the truth, i have been sitting here for about the entirety of a day, even when my day starts when everybody else's ends, and i have been waltzing back and forth between writing and erasing.

You know, just for the record, let me just say how important all of you guys are. Even as a writer, i must admit that there is a point where even words don't matter anymore, just because there are almost no words for this. I mean, is there a word for the confidence a trapeze artist feels when he knows that the other artist won't let go of him a hundred feet in the air? Or is there a word for the leap in a dog's step when it sees it's master after a long time? I don't think there is.

I'll tell you a secret. I get pretty conscious when people start to walk next to me. Because in all honesty, i'm probably secretly nervous when people around me are so close they could hear me breathe. I'm intimacy-tolerant - i have next to zero levels of social intimacy in me that it wonders me how easy some of us can link hands, elbows, or maybe shoulders or legs or maybe even hair with another. It puzzles me to think how hugs work, or how many Mississippis i should count before it ends, and along with it, the train track that is the rapid beating of my heart - not the smooth metro train, but rather the provincial one, the steady chuck chuck chuck of iron on iron. How does it end?

But you know, i'd like to believe that my breathing rises or slows down to match theirs, even when at times, the destination and the journeys it take to get there, well, goddamn take my breath away. And sometimes, it's not even in a good way, yeah. I know, it's so fucking unclear and all. But... yeah.

I know we both know that our destinations are not one and the same, and our journeys are both larger than life and ourselves and at times, harder than it looks, yeah. I know that.

Still, at this crossroad, where we're all practically in different trains headed to God knows where, i just.. hngh. Though you guys might not know this enough, i just want to assure you guys that - no wait. It's not an assurance. It's not a belief. It's just... there - that you people will never leave my mind. You people are the reason for a lot of things. And that one and a half hour away that separated us from that patch of grass, those classrooms, that little old liempuhan, that apartment or wherever place may just grow longer over time. But y'know, i find myself willing to master this train that is my being, and i find myself willing to speed it up to greet you a good morning whenever you may need me.

And besides, i have three very important words: just stations away.

30DC: Day Four

Mood: fine Now Playing: Amy, I Jack's Mannequin

What you wear to bed

What you must know about me is that i am a completely sleepy person. If i didn't know myself any better, i might've said that i'm a narcoleptic. Sadly, that isn't the case. So you'd understand if i tell you that i fall asleep in the most awkward of places, like maybe the last seat at the bus, at some park somewhere or even at the, well, toilet seat.

I guess what i wear doesn't matter. But usually my whole wardrobe consists of shorts and some ratty old shirts. So that's basically what i wear. Haha. My favorite is this shorts i wore as the football uniform and this shirt so baggy it's ridiculous.

Seriously

Mood: irritated, furious
Now Playing: none

Dad just drilled out six tiles from outside my room without covering up the crack beneath my door and the floor. The result? Cement dust from the drill blew into my room and now covers about everything inside. hngj. My beautiful orange room, which i have just cleaned not just a month ago, is now covered in what i think is an inch thick of white cement dust.

Seriously, motherfucker. What the fuck are you doing?

Stupidities

Mood: confused
Now Playing: Perfect, Boyce Avenue Cover

1. Knowing it's a mistake but doing it anyway.
2. Being too naive.
3. Convincing yourself you're satisfied when you're not.
4. Closing too hard, too soon, too quick.
5. Not knowing when to stop.
6. Blurring the boundaries.
7. Trusting someone too much.
8. Asking yourself to change, but doing nothing about it.
9. Not letting go.
10. Letting go too soon.

Pahabol: There is too much of everything.

The Anatomy of My Room, Pt II

Mood: groggy, but i've eaten already
Now Playing: Dare to Believe, Boyce Avenue

So what's all the hoo-ha about me posting pic (actual pic, mind you) about my room? Well to begin with, aside from the fact that i was incredibly bored, we must start with the fact that i am a very packey person. I tend to pack everything up. That's why cleaning is such a bitch for me because i tend to unearth so many things. I collect things like bottlecaps, candy wrappers, used wet wipes containers and a whole lot jumbo that sometimes.. hngh.

Anyway, where was I? I was rummaging through my cabinet when I found letters to myself. More of notebooks, really. I mean it was written on notebooks. And in between those pages, out slipped another piece of paper. It only had one line: "remember remember"

Hngh. Suddenly it felt as if the room folded itself, like years of forgetting have all turned on me.

Maybe that's why we hold on to things, you know? To remember shit. Because memory is faulty, and we need all of those cues to remind us how we lived back then, how much air in our lungs was. It's comforting to know that, there will always be a piece of the past to remind us how we lived by.

Yun nga lang. Sometimes i feel so suffocated. There is not a single thing in this room without memory, good or bad. Each little scratch on the furniture tells a hundred stories.

But... if you were to give me a choice between forgetting and remembering, i'd go remembering all the way. Not to say that i don't like forgetting, but isn't getting over the more proper way to deal with.. bad stuff? And for that to happen, i guess some semblance of remembering is in order. (Then dealing with it.)

And someday, all of this would be just memories too. That's why i'm pretty grateful to the past me for writing me all these letters. Don't worry future me. You'll have your turn.

But if i had my way, i'd sucker punch the 15-year old me. What, goddamnit, are you writing?

The Anatomy of My Room pt I

Mood: just woke up
Now Playing: DMB, crash into me

February

Mood: tired, but i just can't sleep
Now Playing: Marching On, One Republic

This is another long overdue post. I have yet to talk about how my year started, but as of now, what i want to focus is on my February. This is, by far, the most taxing February i have ever had the fortune to land on, and i think it has drained my reserves of qualities i never knew i had in me.

I

To start off, i believe the most apt description of my February is how my values and beliefs were all shaken apart, only for a lot of people to pick up the pieces and make it whole again. I have never taken the time to examine the quality of friendship, and it took me quite a long time to redefine my concepts of it.

Where does friendship even begin, anyway?

From my experience, it always begins with a very small step - minuscule, in my case. Then you gradually notice things about the person; like the way they tuck their hair behind their ears or the way their pinkies salute the air when they drink. Sometimes it's good to notice. Sometimes... it's not. Sometimes, you take note of things that are just enough to peel away a tiny part of your skin - and it is painful. Questions such as why, and how often has it been this week seep out of it. But then you dismiss it as something trivial and chalk it instead to friendship. Accidents happen, anyway.

However, there comes a time that there's no more skin left to peel off and it just feels so raw, and well, so damn hurting.

It took me a long time to realize this fully, but there are some things which are just too much. And getting used to it only makes things worse, because you just can't confront hurt when you're just accepting it as fact all the time.

But does this mean the end of bonds, of connections? It only builds you up and eat you inside - hurting, i mean. And from it, rises the question of whether you'll all survive this.

Normally, i would have said that i have no answer; that i'm as confused as all of you about stuff like this.

Truth is, i've changed. I guess we all have. Someone once told me the importance of belief. Most of life, really, is a big gamble. You have no assurance of anything whatsoever, and it's really dangerous to make promises that you can't keep. But that, she taught me, is when belief kicks in. She told me that we've all got to stop being cynics. Just... believe. We're all jaded, tired of waiting for better things to come that in the end, we just stopped believing that things will get better. There is no cure for this except to just believe in each other. Things like trust, faith and belief all used to just be the words in a spelling bee, or when you have to describe something totally ordinary. Now, it's a reminder of so many memories i find myself to be really fond of.

We've all got our ball, we've all got our chain. We're all moving at a snail's pace. But still. We're getting there. And we're getting there good.