i dreamt of you last night.. i heard you laugh and saw you smile.
you told me my breath smelled like coffee..
i dreamt of you last night.. i heard you laugh and saw you smile.
you told me my breath smelled like coffee..
My self and I are currently in a fight. Although there is a hunger in the shallow pit of my stomach that can only be satisfied with me writing my thoughts, I shall delay it and feed it processed foods and short vacations.
I will be back just until i get a new laptop..
or when im less obsessed with my work
or for long hiatus, after i see my significant other.
My mind is on disarray.
On the morning of November 6th, I couldn’t bring myself to sleep. Earlier, I had gone into two bus rides (which was 4 hours of my freaking time) just to think.
There is no right or left turn for me. There was only a straight line - the clear path to cold places and Ramen noodles. My life is decided with conformity and security that it scared me.
My mother was right, a single truth is never enough to overcome a hundred lies. Because if you truly want to move on, you have to address every single ghost, even if it feels real.
We all have someone who is hidden somewhere in our hearts and when we think of them, we always feel a little pain inside. I kept too many letters into small boxes. In a way I had fallen in love with my misery that the idea of letting go and moving on was a foreign concept and entertaining it was out of the question. I felt disconnected to everything.
I hate that I’m constantly looking for ways not to be happy because being actually happy scares me. My mind is a terrifying place to live in. I got too consumed with ghosts of my past that I forgot that it was only me who was haunting myself.
Its 5am. Currently, i have Ben by Michael Jackson on repeat while drinking my 8th coffee. It’s raining outside; the drops are like lullaby, only this time, it did not soothe me to sleep but awoke me to an uneasy stir questioning my existentialist crisis.
I shall blog for two reasons; one, my carefully ironed shirt and jeggings will be tucked back into my bottom drawer because the slight drizzle of depressing raindrops have ruined my initial plan of yes, going on an “antidepressant” jogging and second, because the sound of loneliness makes me happier.
This is to acknowledge a friend whom at some point of my teenage life, I was so convinced I was going to spend forever with.
Nikki Rodriguez Ramirez
I remember sometime when we were 16; you had a fight with your mother. You were crying. I did not know what to do given that I was from a family who was stoic and completely devoid of sentiments. Any physical contact scared me as I never experienced being hugged, consoled or encouraged. That was the first time I felt like a loser as I simply stood there, unable to say the words I wanted to say to you.
I realized then how I said the words I love you to a number of people but never having to really mean it. You were the first person whom taught me that caring was far far different from loving someone.
I am a lousy friend; I know because I must have left your messages countlessly and intentionally unanswered. I still cannot fathom why and how you put up with me; yet even after 7 years, you still do. Your name is my definition of a friend.
You, whom on several occasions relentlessly call me when at a passing and out from sheer boredom, I texted and told you I haven’t eaten the entire day.
You, who has been the recipient of random tales of infidelities, high schoolish girl fights and lesbian secret couples.
You, who dreams of walking down the aisle and getting a church wedding.
You, who still wants to be a wife even when I advised and numerously discouraged you not to. You are a great mother, provider and someday, a wife.. i think far better than i ever will be.
You, who has been my moral compass.
You, who portrayed as a better half every after fresh break-ups and a sister when I needed someone to fight my battles for me.
You, whom in ponytails and shorts washed my clothes back in college and asked only for a banana-que as a payment.
You, who never fail to check up on me even though you know i’m miserable at providing stability with long distance friendship.
You, whom I can always drunk dial and wake up to a reassuring message.
You, who hate the people i despise and love the people close to my heart.
You, who understood and tolerated my lack of social skills :D
You, because you never ever EVEER told anyone about how I once threw a ketchup bottle at someone. HAHAHAHAHA
I miss you. I miss doing crazy things with you. I miss waking up to your post-it notes apologizing FOR MY mistakes. I miss you stretching out my shorts and shirts. I miss pausing movies to write down our favorite lines. I miss walking the streets at 5am in the morning with you. I miss the displeased look on your face when I once again buy the same flavor of chocolate ice cream.
You are what I miss in Iligan.
I will always remember that night by the Tibanga bridge where we ate sundaes and I faked a story just so you’d liked me.
Understanding the difference between, “I need you because I love you” and “I love you because I need you”.
I initially was against at the idea of travelling for two hours with an almost three month old puppy just so she could ride for another ten hours to Iligan City. But the thought of giving the puppy an ideal home was my maternal instinct talking… hence the bus ride.
Usually, i love riding the bus. Bus rides for me is as sacred as religion. Any form of direct conversation towards me and unscheduled stops are considered blasphemy. But lately, my thoughts have been a superficial landfill of money, food and relationship problems. Allow me to thank Regina Spektor and The Camerawalls for distracting my delirious mind with lyric poetry.
At about 7:30, i finally stood adjacent to the building entrance of Ecoland Terminal. I was hungry, tired and struggling to calm my somewhat motion sickened companion. Then it struck me that I forgot to pack the dog MILK so i scoured through every possible mini stores for some low cost milk sachets. Unfortunately, there was none and had to settle for an awfully expensive fresh milk which meant i can only afford to go back home via non airconditioned bus!
You see, i have this constant sickening urge to buy unnecessary things until i have spent and exhausted my last centavo. To end my financial woes, i had to travel with just the right amount of cash in my wallet and some little extras which sadly i spent earlier on the trip for some peanuts, waffle, load and durian candies (like i told you, unwise money management).
During my gallant search for milk, i realized i have gotten myself a literally, follower. But i won’t go into details since everything was very creepy and basically, i was merely scared he was gonna take my kidney or sold me for domestic prostitution.
I found refuge sitting among travelers to Mati and Butuan awaiting the text message of the guy who was suppose to pick up the dog. This time, i chance upon sitting beside Mang Lando.
He was clutching his bible when i first arrived and searched through it for several highlighted verses to ensure the safety of his travel. Mang Lando was a farmer, which was evident of his dark skin as he was constantly exposed to the sun. I noticed he had little belongings; just a maple satchel bag and a tattered backpack. He was around 40 to 50 years old. Mang Lando had prominent gray hairs and he was thin; his skin envelops his bulging cheeks. He wore a polo shirt which had huge plant prints. His slacks were folded up to his ankles and his feet showed calluses - an indication of his hard work.
He found me texting and came over to ask me a favor, to text someone named Didi. He showed me this folded paper which had torn edges; it had a cellphone number of a girl named Didi. Mang Lando did not know how to text so he simply dictated what we wanted to say to Didi.
"Di, si Lando ni. Maayong gabie sa inyoha diha labi na sa imong Mama ug Papa. Ugma pako kabyahe padulong sa Sta Ana Trento Agusan. Iampo sa Ginoo nga hatagan ko ug kusog para sa akong byahe, na unta walay dautan nga mudapig kanato. Iampo sad ang atong tanom sa bukid. Kini atong gamiton aron malipay ta sa pangkanunay. Di, mapanahunan ra nga maminyuan taka. Ikaw ra akong gihunahuna sa pangkanunay. Hulata ko."
By this time, i was gushing like a school girl falling in love for the first time. I realized how poverty can painfully force people to separate just so their love and physical bodies can survive. But i still believe love prevails.. even when riddled with old age, Mang Lando taught me that you can conquer everything just as long as you put your heart into it.
But in order for us to truly understand love, we have to earn it. Its those saggy cliches of love stories shown on movies and television series that makes me think that true love is unattainable until you meet people like Mang Lando. Experiences like this can humble you; allows you to think that you have it better than other people.
Mang Lando occasionally glances at me for affirmation of any reply. Sadly, there was no response.
After an hour has passed, i moved to another bench. I must have had fifteen inquiries on where was my target destination, or if i was taking the air conditioned bus to Mati or if i preferred Durian candy or pastillas. I was on the brink of exasperation when Kuya Joel asked me if i was going to take the bus he was driving.
Kuya Joel was a 49 year old man from Lupon. He has two kids; one female and another a questionable male. He asked a lot of questions regarding my puppy and even made several overused jokes on dogs and their poop. He knew I was waiting for someone whose trip was bound to Iligan. He said he was once a wild kid; his compulsion led him to travel to Iligan City several times to just to visit a cousin who was studying Metallurgical Engineering in MSU IIT. He told me about the places he come upon in Iligan from Timoga, narrow alleys near the state university and several run down apartments he stayed with his cousins in Baroy.
He recalled that all the travelling ended because his cousin got a job to Singapore after graduating. Even after that, he told me he would still find himself hitching from one bus or jeep to another just so he could satisfy his wanderlust. He met his wife in Lupon, the birthplace of his mother, and ultimately had kids so he decided for stay there for good.
Kuya Joel became a bus driver by chance. A neighbor informed him of a job opening at PP Bus Lines and he simply needed a job to support his growing family. He said it all turned out well given that he can still travel and partake in someone else’s journey.
Our conversation was relatively short as it depended on his 30 minute waiting period. After he left, i too moved to another bench.
I was haplessly waiting for 2 hours now. Finally, I got a text by V saying he was en route to the terminal and was detoured because he was dropping off a relative to the airport.
After i got the puppy settled, i headed home through my much detested non air conditioned bus ride. I knew i said earlier about epiphanies on love and life but i swear low cost buses have the tiniest seats which makes you acknowledge the smell of the person’s breathe you are seating with.
This was when I met Joanilee.
She reeked of my favorite scent: flowering mango trees. She was heading to Panabo to meet her boyfriend. They had a fight two days ago about a missent text message to her phone. He overreacted. She got too violent. Infidelity, she said, was for cowards who could not afford to sacrifice everything for love. Outright, i knew she was young.. she had a sense of idealism for love which was comparable to my devotion to the country. She said she was coming over to apologize. It was already 11pm and she sensed my agitation towards late night visits and told me that she was staying for the night but at a separate bedroom.
She made several correlations of their love affair and childish public display of affection to Pinoy telenovelas. She said she preferred Sarah Geronimo over Toni Gonzaga for John Lloyd Cruz. And even went on expounding plots and storylines after telling her i do not watch TV, more so Filipino mini series.
After stopping at Panabo terminal, I was relieved since majority of the seats cleared up meaning I do not have to make another formality replies.
I spent the rest of the trip in silence.. I thought about various personalities i met on the terminal and how their lives are far different than mine. How lucky can one get when she do not have to wait for their farms to burgeon of vegetables and crops just to marry someone? The mere good fortune of knowing you have someone who open doors for you and take you food shopping when you are sad.. while some do not have the luxury to eat. Poverty is not a total political debate but dealing it through individual approach can make a huge different and being able to utilize what you have to get the best of what you can afford. Sure, it has its restrictions but imagination is boundless so is perseverance, dedication and love.
Strangers are possibly the best people you will meet.
March 17, 2013
Before everything becomes a memory, I would like to remind my future self of the painful realization in the importance of using my eyeglasses. Someday hopefully, future self, that you can look at this and laugh. That it is never safe to call someone out especially in that dingy, poorly lit side of your village. So, forgive yourself.. and always remember that not all people have good intentions.
I am an obsessive fan, I must have watched Bright Star for literally a hundred times. Basically, this post is a collection of John Keat’s letters to Fanny Brawne; my homage because lately I have been so preoccupied with mainstream movies.
My sweet girl,
I am living today in yesterday. I was in a complete fascination all day. I feel myself at your mercy. Write me ever so few lines and tell me you will never forever be less kind to me than yesterday. You dazzled me. There is nothing in the world so bright and delicate. You have absorbed me. I have a sensation at the present moment as if I was dissolving.
My sweet creature,
When I send this round, I shall be in the front parlor, watching to see you show yourself for a minute in the garden. When I look back upon the ecstasies in which I have passed some days and the miseries in their turn, I wonder the more at the beauty which has kept up the spell so fervently. How horrid was the chance of slipping into the ground instead of into your arms. The difference is amazing, love.
My dearest lady,
I am now at a very pleasant cottage window, looking onto a beautifully hilly country, with a view of the sea. The morning is very fine. I did not know how elastic my spirit might be, what pleasure I may have of living here if the remembrance of you did not weight so upon me. Ask yourself my love if you are not very cruel to have so entrammeled me, so destroyed my freedom.
For myself I know not how to express my devotion to so fair a form. I want a brighter word than bright, a fairer word than fair. I almost wish we were butterflies, and live but three summer days, three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain. When you confess this in a letter, must write immediately, and do all you can to console me in it. Make it rich as a draught of paupers to intoxicate me with it. Write the softest words, and kiss them … that I may at least touch my lips to where yours have been.
Bright Star by John Keats
Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art—
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—
No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever—or else swoon to death.
Ode To A Nightingale by John Keats
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thine happiness, -
That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees,
In some melodious plot
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been
Cool’d a long age in the deep-delved earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country green,
Dance, and Provencal song, and sunburnt mirth!
O for a beaker full of the warm South,
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
And purple-stained mouth;
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
And with thee fade away into the forest dim:
Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
What thou among the leaves hast never known,
The weariness, the fever, and the fret
Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,
Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
And leaden-eyed despairs,
Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.
Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
Already with thee! tender is the night,
And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
Cluster’d around by all her starry Fays;
But here there is no light,
Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.
I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet
Wherewith the seasonable month endows
The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;
White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;
Fast fading violets cover’d up in leaves;
And mid-May’s eldest child,
The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.
Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call’d him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
In such an ecstasy!
Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain -
To thy high requiem become a sod.
Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
The same that oft-times hath
Charm’d magic casements, opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
Forlorn! the very word is like a bell
To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well
As she is fam’d to do, deceiving elf.
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now ‘tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled is that music: - Do I wake or sleep?
I cried a little when i found out there are seemingly thousands more of free Tumblr themes on the Web especially as I countlessly sought refuge on their default themes. This is all rather very melancholic because the last time I actually edited a Html was Friendster days. Mainly because I drank too much coffee and cannot seem to sleep, I spent the last two hours creating and editing a custom theme. After numerous trial and error attempts and getting the right color and heading codes (thank you, Google), finally achieved a similar theme to my Blogger. <insert happy face with bloodshot eyes and bruised arse>
Its 4:27am. I can almost hear the comforting sounds of Muslim prayers and crowing roosters. I have been holding my pee since 2am for the fear that I might stumble upon something.. unusual?
I want to sleeeeep!! I want to not be scared of ghosts and leprechauns!! I want to pee.. so so bad!! I want to eat my Lays Stax!! I want to consume unhealthy amount of water just to wash off the caffeine!! I want to pee :( I want to eat strawberry coated mallows!! I want to take my daily bath (Heee)!! Just thinking about water..and soap.. and toilet makes me want to peee!!
what i currently look like….
what it really feels like..
Darn you coffee.
I want to know you. I dont know you but I want you all the more for that. I want to ravage your soul with vanity and conceit. I want to be in your skin and understand your inner seclusion. I want to grieve on your contentment and spend the days languishing in every mournful goodbyes. I want to own you. I want to encase myself with your touch. I want to bathe on your taste and feel the lingering smell of your skin. I want to absorb you. I want to be in you. I want you.
Come never 2013. I cannot fathom the thought of you leaving, of us separating.