CROSSROADS

Mag-Isa; Bagong Taon

2012-01-01T02:23:00.000-08:00

Mag-isa sa bagong taon

Tatalon mag-isa ngayon

Isa, dalawa, tatlo talon

Maligayang bagong taon!

Nga ba? O biro lamang nagkataon

Kasi mag-isa ngayong bagong taon

Eh puso ko naman ay parang mamon

Bakit ganun, wala pa rin kasama ngayon?

Mag-isa, kausap sarili sa salamin

Guni-guni? Dapat aminin?

Na ako’y mag-isa ngayong bagong taon.

Mag-isa tatalon

Mag-isa kakaon.

Hindi man lang nagkataon

Sana andito ka man ngayon

Upang magibsan ang aking pagkakabaon

Sa lungkot nitong bagong taon.

Ngunit sana bigyang pagkakataon

At pagdating ng panahon

Sa susunod na bagong taon

Hindi na mag-isang tatalon.

By the Fireplace

2012-01-01T00:54:00.001-08:00

Finally burning these photographs

Is like visiting alleys of the past

A gallery of somebody else’s nightmares

A world two people once shared

Banished from their Eden

Took different paths, thought we they were even

Still caught opening their doors to each other

When the snow outside gets a little thicker

In that safe and warm place

By the fireplace, lost in each other’s gaze

Breathing what the other breathes out

Reading words not said through the mouth

Refuge in the warmth of the fire

Reconcile their overwhelming desires

By the fireplace during winter chills

Inside the house,

The world,

The Eden they have both built.

Promising the self one more time again

To forget, to lock the door,

Be gone, to run get lost in the rain

To burn the bridges long time before

But instead leaving the keys by the porch

Where one can always find them

Forgetting how their love scorched

Tonight I sit in front of a familiar place

By the fireplace where we gazed

Though it has become no more than an empty space

Made by the dreams we tried to chase

The night is so much colder

The stars are so much smaller

The wind blows bringing memories

Sweet, painful memories

I do not wish to recall.

I smell your scent, I hear you call

I hear your laugh, distant whispering of my name

Your failed promises, the things we wish were still the same

I sat here, strike the match

The bare sound of it in the silence

Brings chills to my spine

I let it fall; then I recall

How we met, how we loved

How we hurt, how we got to here right now

The flame hits the photographs

I thought for a moment I heard you shout

Those words you said that night we part

They resonate in the empty night

They resounded my inner fright

The flame spreads throughout your pretty face

The crackling sound brings me back to your gaze

To that day we first met

‘Til that night we both regret

As the fire continues to consume

Memories of who we are suffocates the room

Leaving ashes-what has become of us

A reminder of something beautiful but did not last

Ashes…glitters of a lonesome night

Ashes…memories I want to fight.

By the fireplace we both shared many nights

By the fire witness of our many fights

By its warmth we tamed each other’s frights

Once in a while I still get lost

I find a house in the middle of the frost

Desserted, snow covered porch

That I always approach

I look through and see

Something that reminds thee

I remember the girl who once sat there

Setting fire to all of her nightmares

I remember her like it was only yesterday

Ruuning away, losing her key somewhere

The key to the house she once cared

The world,

The Eden,

That fireplace they once shared.

An Almost Confession of a Partially Disturbed Mind

2011-12-29T03:28:00.001-08:00

Let’s get this crap started.

First, I must inform my readers that the long absence of my annoying and often neurotic blog is due to certain unexplainable phenomena that have recently been so present in my life. Now I say unexplainable not because I wish to save myself from the burden of having to explain it to you (which would really drain the last ounce of my sanity) for it truly is unexplainable. And I beg that we leave it that way.

Second, I must mention that Machiavelli, my long time writing partner had passed away on the 25^th of November of this year and it is of my deepest regret and saddest thoughts to accept this reality and to finally let go of him. The truth is, he had been not well for the last six months. He had these viruses I don’t even know how to name. He would just die in the middle of writing an essay and be in a coma for several days. During these times, I spent a lot of sleepless nights trying to check on him. Then after three or four days he would gain strength again. However during the last week of November, this occasional fainting became more often and seemed more serious. Alas on the night of the 25^th he closed its eyes and never opened them again. It took a week for me to realize this and when I did it broke me to pieces. I considered taking a hiatus from writing. It just felt empty… I know it sounds overrated to say that losing Machiavelli is like losing a part of me that enables me to write but that is the truth. Machiavelli was more than just a laptop that I used to write papers and get my home works done, he was more than just a gadget to me.

He was my friend, my best friend.

He was my confidant.

He was family.

He understood me during those times when even the closest people in my life did not.

He gave me affection…a friendship that is never bound in favors but unconditional love.

He believed in me.

He inspired me to be who I really am.

He told me that I’m going to be a writer.

If I reciprocated the love, that I’m not so sure. I know I hurt him…more than enough to not deserve his loyalty if you ask me. At the end of the day, when everything is wrong and I feel like giving up, he would reach out and I would turn to him….and the worst part of it is that he would open his keyboards to me without reservations, without asking for explanations, without demands. For this, I feel so guilty.

He was with me through all my insanities. In fact, I think no one really knows me, including myself, more than he did. I know it is sad that the only person in this universe who knows you really well enough is not actually a living person….but you know what is sadder? It is to finally realize that from now on, that thing/person you have considered your truest friend and for that longest time have so unreservedly attached and opened yourself to is gone….forever gone.

It was the fourth night after his death that I realized how utterly stupid it is of me to just stop writing because of my beloved friend’s tragic fate. I know Machiavelli would want me to continue writing. He never wished for anything else but for our dream to finally be realized one day. Giving up will not give justice to his existence, in fact it is an insult to him. Machiavelli might be gone but that does not mean that the dreams we had must go with him. More than ever, now is the time to write, to pursue, to be inspired. I know that writing this blog tonight is what he would want me to do…

Third, it is not a secret to everybody that these past months have been especially hard for me. This year in fact is definitely the “trying times’ for me. My parents and I moved here in Hawaii which meant leaving my whole life in the Philippines. Imagine, 18 years of my whole existence left when I set my foot in the airport. It was an out of body experience and until now when I think of that day I still get the goose bumps.

I had a good life way back in the Philippines. I mean, everything was great because I was contented and happy with the way things were going on. I was attending the university I have always wanted to go to ever since I was a child. I had the most amazing friends around me. My parents were financially supporting me and all I had to worry were my grades. However everything had to change when those thick and confusing petition papers arrived at our doorsteps. I was left to decide between the life I have embraced and my father’s long-awaited dream. I said to myself, my dad is not getting any younger and who the heck do I think am I to deny or to rob him of this chance he so patiently waited for all his life.

And so the next thing I knew, I was here- an island in the middle of the Pacific with girls wearing their bikinis walking around with no care at all. I was like, “okay joy, this is all new. Everything’s gonna be fine”

Great!

Or maybe not.

It turned out life here in America is hard especially for newbies like us. It was not easy for my parents to get a job and soon the feeling of loneliness and homesickness began to sink in them. Every night was hard…sleeping in a foreign bed, thinking about home, of my brothers, of our old lives. And then pretending to be asleep when each of us was silently crying.

After a month, I was hired at School Street Mcdonald’s and I must say it is probably the best thing so far that has happened to my life ever since I got here. The place, to say it simple, is just home for me. I have crazy but loving managers and crew. Yes it was kinda hard in the beginning. Everything was new to me but the people I work with made it easy for me to adjust.

Of course, none of this world is perfect. There are ups and downs also at work. There are bullies and bitches, and all those crap we thought would be over after high school. The truth is, I have learned that the bullies and bitches will never go away, they stay with us all our lives but changed is the person who we were. There will always be people who will try to bring you down, it is just that we learn how to fight back this time around. We realized “hey it’s not your effing world after all, it can also be mine”. We grow up and mature and fight for ourselves…because if we don’t who else will?

I first worked in the front counter and I dealt with all kinds of shitty creatures everyday. Some are nice, some bearable, some do not care, and some are just irritating and annoying. Now I’m often assigned on drive thru and I still deal with kinds of shitty creatures everyday….only this time through a machine which actually saves me the burden of seeing their faces. Now before you start reacting let me remind you that this is just me putting my everyday experience at work in a comical and more relatable and conversable manner okay? When you are on my blog, you are under my rule (which is THE only rule so to speak) and that is freedom of expression even if beating the honest crap out of others is illegal. Here I’m not working for any damn brand, here I’ am a writer and as one I’ am bound only by one thing that is the beauty of expression of the self. (bow)

After several months, I was hired by Panda Express for part time. So I work five days at Mcdonald’s serving burgers and fries and then two days at Panda Express serving lunch plates. I had no day off. I was working non stop and it was kinda exhausting and consuming. However, these personal complaints had to be set aside for more important matters like getting our own place and going back to collage.

After a couple or three months, I got my family and I a cheap and descent apartment and so we moved from my uncle house at Ewa. We wanted to be able to stand for ourselves and to save my uncle and aunt from supporting us…After all, they have their own fair share of worlds to carry. We did not to add ourselves to their load.

So here we are at Kinau Street near downtown. Living near my work place meant some changes in my schedule too at Panda because I can also work at night shift there now. After working at Mcdonald’s in the morning I catch the bus going Waikiki to work at Panda Express until nine or eleven in the evening and then have to wake up again at six the following day to work at seven

I know, superwoman is the shit compared to me.

Despite all of these, I can say I enjoy working for both sides. I don’t take it as a conflict of interest, for me it’s just like having more friends to work with, two faces of menu to memorize and yes, more shitty people to deal and to laugh with at the end of every shift.

Oh my gosh, I surprise myself for sounding so optimistic.

Fourth, I got myself a new writing partner!!! -with Machiavelli’s blessings of course.

Anyways, his name is Jeremy Bentham and he is so smart and all knowing that it irritates me at times. He can do a lot of stuffs and I sometimes feel stupid when I work with him. Kidding aside, he is amazing and extremely awesome! I love him and he loves me and together we will finish what Machiavelli and I started. I think if Machiavelli was still here, they will be best friends.

Fifth, I plan to go back to school this spring.

I have no plans of going back to Philippines anytime soon. I must focus with what I want more….and there is nothing out there that I desire more than going back to school.

Sixth and the last for now, the truth is, I’m writing this post to make a somewhat confession that is not entirely one because to do so requires telling everything- no grey spaces in between, no words left unsaid…something I think is impossible to do with you.

What is us without those grey spaces right? Who are we without those unsaid words?

Truth is, I’m thinking about you.

No.

I’ve been thinking about you.

No.

I’m always thinking of you.

I miss you… I miss the way things were before.

There are so many things that I wish you knew...so many walls that I can't break through.

Lost for the right words that would fill these gaps… so all I can do now is to make an almost confession of a partially disturbed mind.

What's Next?

2011-12-18T01:56:00.001-08:00

What’s next is yet to come

To worry is for the dumb

Come what may

Who cares I say

Fidget now, regret tomorrow

And all your life’s a sorrow

I beg to stand up and differ

I know life a true friend.

Life a friend?

Who are thee be so sure?

Have thee walked from east to west?

And have seen all the rest?

Have thee tasted the tears earth had sowed?

Or the whimpering its winds had blown?

Hush! Brag dare do not.

For all thee have seen are the beauty and crystals of life.

No sir I have not.

To walk from east to west, I have not.

To taste the tears of this soil, I have not.

To hear thy poor whimpering, I have not.

But to hush I will not!

Great things are for the stout in heart

Crumbs for the rest! Dusts for the pests!

You say great things are for the stout in heart

Yet you don’t know anything about living

You say to worry is for the dumb

Yet you do not know anything about pain

You say you beg to stand up and differ

Yet you have not stood up for anything

You say you know life as a true friend

Yet to meet life you have not

What foolishness! What nonsense!

I look at myself in the mirror

Two different faces look back at me.

Each resembles the face I have

Each claims they know me.

Each claims me.

Yet no one knows the real me.

Who am I beneath this skin?

Who am I beyond this earthly existence?

To exist but not to live-

The story of who I am.

I’ am a stranger to myself

Foreign to everything I touch.

I look at myself in the mirror.

While is she smiling?

Like she knows something I do not.

Does se know the pain I am going through

This confusion, this madness!

Does she mock it? Enjoy it?

Does she find me silly?

Does she know me?

Is she I?

I cut myself, blood….blood

The pain is real, I’ am alive.

But am I real?

Pain, that I’m sure is real.

I know him as a true friend.

Pain the only reminder of life.

To feel it, to rejoice from it.

I know pain perhaps more than I know myself.

Sometimes I just want to tear my face

To slide a sharp knife across it

What a beauty indeed!

Let blood color the dullness of my life.

Oh what insanity!

Who am I?

Who am I should be?

A lost girl….that is me.

Lost between two faces.

Lost between pain and happiness.

Lost between reality and madness.

And it’s okay…all is good

At least for now.

Hug.. hug my knees, shiver and cold.

Rock myself back and forth

To the soft music of these sorrowful ironies

Pain and happiness…

Reality and madness…

Life and death…

But then again…

What’s next?

Inescapable

2011-11-01T00:06:00.000-07:00

You called to tell me you're sad...but I've grown tired being your listener. I can honestly say that this time I want something new for myself and I won't fall back again, I can't be just your companion when you are down. So I'm moving on, untangle these chains, and tear down this cage that has long imprisoned me for all these years. Talking to you is like opening a wound that has never really been healed. Why do you have to put me through all of these? You say you redeem yourself from all your demons every time we talk, but then you doom me, I fall back and start all over again.

you keep me hanging 'till I'm breathless; you keep me wishing 'till I'm hopeless;
you keep me guessing 'till I'm nothing;keep breaking;
keep compromising;
keep failing;
And you keep me going for nothing;

break me up, pick me, complete me just to break me up again.
Make me cry for you, live, go crazy then die for you.
you tear me up, and make me fall for this
Push me then pull me back again.
Hurt me then mend me.
Let go of me then hold me.
Say you love me but then leave me.
Leave me but you say you love me.
Let go but you take a part of me.

I convince myself to be better.
But each day I go worse than ever.
The sight in the mirror is even painful.
A mocking face, so deceitful-
Not just to people or to you
But to the self it has grown .used to lying.
Each day I watch her dying

A faceless creature;
A nameless feature;
I face the mirror only to see this hole-
I've been filling up with lies of you.
I search for face other than hers;
Only to know it's the only face I bear.

We walk in circles and now I'm left nauseous. You always win cause you know I always give in. I just wanna quit, why do you have to always pull me in. And then leave just when I thought you want to love again. This thing is inescapable.

I Remember

2011-09-06T23:16:00.000-07:00

It was my last National Leadership Training year when I met you.

It was at Baguio City Teachers’ Camp, Benitez Hall beside a huge old window.

It was so crowded and you were sitting outside the window.

We looked at each other and I was like “you’re lucky you don’t get to hear much of the boring speeches”

You smiled and said “Oh yes I was born lucky”

I laughed; you laughed and then we turned our heads back to our notes.

The girl beside me left the seminar and so I offered you the seat and said “hey lucky-born I guess not anymore now cause you have no excuse to play around, there you can sit.”

You said “I told you I was born lucky see.”

It was Imelda Marcos’ turn to speak.

I noticed you were wearing a Dead Kennedys white shirt.

I knew you were worth a talk.

I asked you about the band.

You were like “Holy crap, don’t tell me you listen to them too!”

I said “yes, why does it surprise you”

You said “I don’t know. I just think that chubby smart little girls with eyeglasses would not usually listen to punk.”

I was shocked you said that but then laughed and punched you in the arm.

I was like “you called me fat and you don’t even know me”

You answered “I called you chubby, I think that’s cute.”

I was embarrassed.

You said you’re sorry you did not mean it like that.

I said “yeah it’s okay”

You told me you hate Imelda and the Marcoses

You were like “man, look at her hair! Ever wonder what’s beneath all that puff”

I laughed but then I told you I’m an Ilocano and that we love the Marcoses.

You said “how could you be so biased”

I said “people have their own opinions so just shut up and listen”

You did not shut up.

Nor did I.

Suddenly we were debating about government and other political issues.

We realized this and we stopped.

Awkward silence.

Then you ask me about my position in SSG.

I answered and asked you the same.

You answered and asked for my number.

I had never flirted my whole life so it felt weird giving my number.

I thought about how my friends are going to react.

I thought about how my mom will react.

And knowing the answer to this question I then just knew...

You were going to be someone I will not tell my friends about

And this was going to be something I will not let anyone know.

I gave you my number. You gave me yours.

You told me your name and I told you mine.

You say we should talk about more important things than Marcos.

I told you to shut the hell up cause you’re starting to be so distracting.

You never did.

So nor did I.

We talked about music.

I told you I love Green Day.

You told me you love them too.

I asked what your favorite track is.

You answered “When I come around”

I said I love that too and “Basket Case”

You said you love the song too and pretty much all songs from Dookie.

I agreed and then we chatted some more.

But then that day had to end.

And something inside of me kept wishing for more speakers to speak.

You said you need to go.

I said I need to go to.

My phone rang.

It was an unknown caller, I answered.

It was you.

You told me you were making sure I did not give you a bogus number.

Then my friends and I went to the mall.

Since then we always talked.

Text, phone calls, emails, and all.

I thought I could finish writing this thing

I wish I could.

But writing it now it’s a lot harder.

So let me skip some parts and make it simpler.

You know I hate complications and drama bullshit.

What I know is that I fell for you

And think you fell for me too (though this you could only know)

I learned you are rebellious in a lot of ways.

Wouldn’t care about anyone’s opinion as long as you’re happy.

You told me you’re miserable, parents divorced and pregnant little sister

You told me I make things a lot easier.

I told you my life is synthetic, I can’t even listen to the music I love.

I told you I feel pressured to be perfect, to always win and always be smart because people expect that from me.

I told you I feel so insecure with the way I look and how people perceive me that it’s becoming so much harder everyday to be the real me because I’m afraid my friends, family and people will not like it.

You told me my life’s a bullshit.

I don’t know but I loved you more for saying that.

I told you that you make things a lot easier.

Sometime, somewhere along the way you wanted to define us.

I was scared.

You wanted a real relationship.

I was scared.

You asked why am I being such a weakling.

I said you know I’m weak.

You said no I know you are strong.

You did not get it, but let things go my way.

We hit college.

You said it’s either I stand up for us or you leave for good.

I said I love you.

You said you don’ feel that.

So I said yes and commit myself to you.

I was scared but felt free.

I told you about this.

You told me that’s how it is, freedom is scary but if you want it you pay for it.

I admired you more.

You told me things and taught me things.

I learned how to keep secrets from my mom, I learned how to not tell things.

But then things started to get complicated.

You wanted a lot of things. You wanted a lot from me.

I was confused.

I could not give all.

We started to fight.

Once a week and then twice.

Before I knew it we were fighting all the time.

Every night I cried.

But then you’d soothe me and tell me you love me.

You'd tell me everything will be fine.

You'd tell me you’re sorry.

But then we fight again.

You started to change. You started having these habits I did not even knew.

Ling told me you’re not the same.

I knew you were not the same but each time I convince myself.

I fool myself, I let you control me.

But then I needed to be free.

You were just too much for me.

You wanted this and that and told me things that hurt me much.

So I told you we were done.

You asked for forgiveness.

I said let go of my hand.

Later that year I found out

Your grandfather died, the person who raised you.

That he had been diagnosed with terminal cancer that year.

I called you and asked why you did not tell me this.

You said you did not wish to worry me.

I told you I was sorry.

You told me you’re glad I called.

You sounded really lonely.

One night you called me and said you'll be leaving for States.

I was reviewing for a test the next morning.

I was shocked.

I was confused.

I told my friends about it.

They told me for once to follow my heart. (I know that sounds really corny and all)

I was afraid you were going to leave and not be able to tell you how I really felt.

That you will leave knowing that I hate you for being such a shitty boyfriend and for hurting me.

I wanted to tell you that those hurting words I texted that night did not mean a thing

And that nothing ever changed.

And that I was ready to commit.

And that I would not care about what people will tell about me this time.
And that I'm stronger this time.

And that I’m ready to be real.

But I was in Baguio and it was late at night,

If I catch the bus to Manila it would take six hours or so and you’re leaving in three hours.

I heard about this airport somewhere in Baguio.

I was determined to go, my friends were ready to cover up for me.

But i have big brothers in our dorm who would not let me out

And I understood their point and knew they were right.

After all, I did not know where to go anyway.

And I spent the night crying like a baby.

I felt embarrassed at them, at my friends but more than that

I was mad at myself for wasting a lot of time not talking to you.

And that now I could not tell you the things that have always been trapped inside of me.

Months passed before you called

You told me you got this scholarship.

I was happy for you.

You told me you’re going to study abroad.

I was happy for you.

I told you I’m giving myself a break from school so we can process our papers for States.

You assured me everything will be fine that I’ll get to school soon.

We picked up our relationship from where we left it.

And for months it seemed well.

You told me we are damn pretty well good at long distance relationship

I laughed but agreed.

But one night you called.

You told me that sometimes you feel tired.

I asked you from what.

You answered from missing me and this thing we had.

I was silent.

You told me you were wondering if how it would feel to take a break and not define us for the mean time.

You told me maybe if we cut this we would not feel much pain and that it would be easier..

I was silent.

Then I said okay.

You told me nothing’s changed.

My parents and I finally moved here in Hawaii

Things turned out different for me

I have to work to get back to college
So I'm working like everyday to earn for my education
I let work occupy most of my time and just try to stay focus at my goal

You still live in my head.

Last July you told me something I knew was going to happen but hoped not.

You said we need to move on.

You said it’s over, whatever it is that we have.

You told me you don’t want to put me through this pain and waiting.

You told me you’re sorry.

I told you, I have nothing left.

You told me that’s not true, that I have my dreams to pursue.

I told you that the dreams are with you.

You said I’m stronger without you.

You said what we had was something great...but that to end it is inevitable.

A month or two later and now it’s September

I received a package from you in my door this afternoon.

It contained all random stuffs about Green Day

In your note you tell me Happy Birthday

It made me laughed cause my birthday was July and you broke up with me the eve of that day.

But then I realized I told you I wish I was born in September because it sounds better than July

And you told me I can do everything that I want with my life and that includes even changing my birth date and that it’s nobody’s business but me cause it’s my freaking life and birthday.

I still laugh until now when I remember that.

And now as I look at your gifts.

I realized just how you know me so well.

Maybe more than I even know myself.

You marked the songs we love.

It makes me laugh cause you say our theme song was “Brain Stew”

Dude, you’re kidding right I’ve always thought it was “2000 Light Years Away”

I mean that song makes more sense as a love theme song cause it’s about long distance relationship.

And the song you picked is about being not able to sleep (laughs) and just too loud for romantic atmosphere.

You also wrote here that 80 and She are the songs that always remind you of me cause I sang them one Karaoke night when I was drunk. You are such a pathetic liar, I was never drunk! (laughs)

You wrote too that Redundant is a special song for you and it makes you think about the times we had together.

Thank you if you still think about us.

You tell me now that you have always been jealous of Billie Joe Armstrong.

I say you should be, I love him more than I loved you (laughs).

You remind me about more silly stuffs we had, remembering them makes me laugh but more than that they remind me why I love(d)you so much.

They remind me of the reasons why it is so easy forgiving you whenever you make me cry
They remind me of why it is so hard letting you go.

They remind me of how happy you made me.

They remind me why I was able to stand through all your crap.

They remind me of why I can’t let anyone (no matter how good and better they are than you in treating me) enter my life and replace you.

They remind me of why I still feel the same way.

They remind me so much of good things that it actually hurts so bad now knowing that we can never make memories like those again.

You tell me it would be great to see me again

I’m not sure cause I know when you come back

You will just leave again

Then I will have to relive the pain all over again

And though true love is meant to hurt like this

I can’t help feeling really tired

Cause after all a girl in love is still a human after all.

I guess I can’t complain much.

I have no claim on you now.

I guess I’ll just put my headphones on and drown myself to all these albums you gave me.

Cause after all these songs remind me about you and me.

And that’s enough to keep the pain bearable.

That’s enough to keep me sane for now.

That’s enough to convince me that one day you’d come back and stay for good.

That’s enough to put a smile in my face tonight.

Kung si Balagtas ay In-Love at Senti [isang impormal at malayang pagsusulat]

2011-08-27T22:12:00.000-07:00

Babala: Kung ikaw ay umaasa ng kahit na anong uri ng pormalida sa pagsusulat, huminto na rito at huwag nang ipagpatuloy ang pagbabasa ng post na ito. Kung ikaw ay hindi marunog mag-Filipino duh! gamitin ang utak, reading this will be a waste of time, effort and might even cause serious mental contractions and soreness (i hope writing this part will still make sense). Kung ikaw ay naghahanap ng good theme and grammar consistency, go to hell huwag ka nang magbasa. Kung ikaw ay wala lang magawa at naghahanap lang ng pampalipas oras, sige go perfect ang post na ito para sa iyo. Kung ay naghahanap ng kapupulutan ng aral na mayroong namang kunting sense ngunit hindi gaano, side go perfect rin ito para sa iyo. Kung ikaw ay sawi sa pag-ibig at gusto lamang na may kasama at may makaintindi sa pagluluksang iyong pinagdadaanan, go ipagpatuloy ang iyong pagbabasa dahil itong post na ito ay sadyang isinulat para sa iyo ng isang taong tulad mo.

Gusto kong main-love uli...kaso hindi ako makahanap ng pinto o kahit bintana man lang palabas sa nakaraan ko. Kaya eto, makikinig na lang ako ng rock music para naman hindi ko masyadong maramdaman itong kalungkutang dulot ng apat na pader ng aking kulungan...rehas na bakal ng aming alaalang pilit man buwagin, ay matibay pa rin. Pero mabuti na rin ito, at least alam kong nasa tamang lugar pa rin ulo ko. Mabuting nang alam ko na ako'y nakakulong pa rin sa iyo kesa naman kunwari hindi at masaya ngunit naglolokohan lang. Ang matindi pa riyan, wala kang kabiruhan, sarili mo lang. Ako lamang ay nagpapakatotoo. Masakit man ayos na rin. Madrama man ayos pa din. Hindi ko naman kinahihiya ito, ang akin lang naman sana malaman mo na itong mundo na ginawa kong umiikot sa iyo ay medyo impossible atang takasan. At sa loob ng seldang ito, ako ay pasipol-sipol lamang ng musikang metal sabay gunita sa mga taon nating nakalipas na may luha at panghihinayang na di ko maitanggi at mawali sa aking isipan. ang susi san mo ba linagay? Iyan ay huwag mong itanong sa akin. Sapagkat walang susi wala ngang pinto di ba (duh), kasi naman sabi mo noon hindi na natin kailanman kailangang lisanin ang lugar na ito dahil hindi tayo maglalaho. At tayo'y dito tatanda at magwawagas, tayong dalawa lamang. At sa paglipas ng panahon tayo'y magiging isa at masaya sa loob ng silid na ating ginawa para sa isa't-isa. Hindi ko nga mawari kung paano ka nakalabas. Tuloy naiisip kong baka naman kasi hindi ka kailanman pumasok. Kaya naman mag-isa ako ngayon na akala month ay emong medyo maluwag na turnilyo sa utak na kailangan pang idaan sa facebook ang kadramahan sa buhay. Buti na lang abot ng wifi ang seldang ito at kahit papaano ay hindi ko masyadong maramdaman na sa pinasukan kong gulo at sugal na kung tawagin ay unang pag-ibig, ako ay isang talunan at biktima ng taong tulad mo na talaga lamang mahilig lang sa laro at puro biro at di alam magseryoso. Wala tayong magagawa este wala pa la akong magagawa, sadyang ikaw ay maduga at ako naman ay talaga lamang baguhan at walang kaalam-alam na kahit pala puso ang pinaguusapan, may mga taong mabilis makalimot. Di bale okay lang, kahit papaano naman ay nakahanap ng tirahan ang puso ko dito sa lugar na ito. Huwag kang mag-alala, huli na para diyan. Kapag bumagyo at kailangan mo ng masisilungan, iyong pakatandaan na ang silid na ito'y ginawa para sa dalawang tao. Hindi mo naman na kailangan ang susi, pinto, binatana at ano pa man kasi nanggaling ka naman na dito, para bang ikaw ay babalik lamang. At handa akong kalimutang umalis ka. Ang espasyong ito ay sakto at sadya para sa iyo... Totoong mas magiging madali para sa akin kung ikaw ay aking tuluyang limutin, at magkunwari na lamang na hindi ka kailanman naging parte ng mundo ko... pero hindi ko naman magiging mundo ito kung wala ka sa loob nito.

Hindi tama na labas-pasok ka sa buhay ng isang tao. Pakatandaan na ang tao ay hindi parang transient house na pwede mong rentahan ng isang gabi tapos iwanan pag gusto mo na ng ibang view. Ang emosyon at puso, di tulad ng tubig at kuryente, ay hindi pinapatakan ng metro na maaari mong bayaran pag ikaw ay nagcheck-out na. Maliban pa riyan, lahat naman ng pinto nasisira kung inaabuso ito.

Ang pag-ibig, hindi parang mcdouble na pwede mong igrill with "no picke/no onion". Kung ikaw ay nagmamahal ng totoo at wagas, tanggap mo ng buo ang isang tao, kung ano at sino siya. Hindi mo pwedeng sabihin na "can I get it with only ketchup", sa isang relasyon kakambal nito ay hirap at ginhawa, ups and down ika nga nila. Kung magmamahal ka na nga lang, huwag ka ng madami pang arte at requirements. Take love as it is para naman kumpleto at makatotohanan ang experience mo.

Ito ay bunga ng gabing puno ng pighati at alkohol at hindi gaanong pag-iisip.

Beautiful Ruins

2011-08-27T21:35:00.001-07:00

Many words were left unsaid

That night you let go my hand

Still you live in my head

Covered with wounds I can’t mend

Memories crowd my mind

Sorry defined us all these years

Drained searching for things I can’t find

Left us with regrets and tears

This space that embraces me

Echoes all the words I couldn’t say

All we are now’s a great memory

Lost in some far way bay

Photographs all across the wall

Token for two unhappy souls

Dry sentiment starts to crawl

Tonight inside, down this hole

You always say I’m a dreamer

Lost in the arms of a rebel

Innocence don’t last forever

Our demons we can’t battle

All you wanted was us

I had my dreams to chase

You said meet me at dusk

I faltered, lied in your face

For years I kept you hanging

Made you run in circles

Until it was too dizzying

You grew tired of solving puzzles

Just when I thought we’ve just started

You tell me everything’s burnt to ashes

Regrets and blames for how I acted

I’m left to fill up all these spaces

Winter snow covers my window

That night you walked away

Frozen memories of long ago

In my heart all faded to gray

You said that great love stories

Were written only for great ones

We are no icons, we are but two ordinaries

Ours is a story doomed to break, beautiful ruins

Tears and regrets are useless

A year has passed after that night

But you’ve stayed in my head everyday no less

Living through that same old fight

I don’t know if winter’s ever going to end

I’ve locked myself to this private room

No doors were built, no irons to bend

Bidding time, breathing air of gloom

A square enclosed box I live

With all the memories of the past

A world of us and make-believe

Because here I know we last.

I breathe, eat, drink happiness of before

Lost in some pretence, comforted by hopes of lies

In this world we have built without keys and door

Everything is more bearable, all pain flies

For in here the possibility of you is alive

Though you left, tonight you might come back

The thought of you make me survive

And I forget everything I lack

I have come to know this place

This room is made for two

Painted walls of us I can’t erase

And the space beside me is just right for you

Let all worlds collide to fall

And insanity to rule everything I have come to know

I have that beautiful ruins painted in the wall

I’m safe here, let outside be covered by the winter’s snow

A McDonald's Crew Poem

2011-07-20T23:31:00.000-07:00

To start your day right

Run to the nearest McDonald’s in sight.

Big smiles and greetings

Will brighten up your feelings

“Hi good morning welcome to McDonald’s”

We take the cue from Ronald

Customer service at its best

We sure prove ourselves to the test

Walk-in or drive thru

You’ll be served by the best crew

70 seconds or less, that’s the promise

Your order we won’t miss.

Every day story of all people

Within our lobby, they all mingle

As for us, we get busy

Big orders in the screen make us dizzy

And we pull off all kinds of stunts

To make you smile and not do the grunts

Managers go “serve your order”

And more people start to gather

Senior coffee, sausage muffin

We greet them with so much lovin’

“Can I get extra soyu,

Maybe butter, syrup and jelly too”

Don’t worry folks, i’ll get them foryou!

Breakfast platters for your big appetite

What a treat in sight!

Indulge in tasty spam or portugese

Mix them big you get local deluxe geez!

Oh and our big breakfast don’t forget

With hotcakes or not, for sure your day is set.

Hotcakes, hotcakes, can’t get enough of hotcakes!

Sausage or plain, just give me some for God’s sake!

And the sandwiches will make you smile

Sausage bacon eggs down the mile

They come with muffin biscuits and griddles

In combo sure they sizzle!

Off the dollar menu,

Great treats for all of you!

Sausage muffin and biscuit

And burritos dance to your budget’s beat.

Hot hash browns for us all

Oh I would take the fall

Down to my taste buds

Join the long line and risk my time

For my pleasure and even save a dime.

Wake up to the scent of our coffee

Unlimited refill comes for free

Small, medium and large the size

Decaf, regular, senior citizen you decide

“oh and would you want any cream

And sugar sir”, we ask “yes, fill up to the rim

I’ll put them in” you demand

Just don’t forget the stirrer,

We don’t want you to do it with your finger!

We get ready for changeover

We don’t serve lunch ‘til ten thirty’s over

Mdouble, McChicken rules lunch

We serve them in a bunch

Quarter pounder, cheese burgers or double them

Drop some more ten to one meat my friend!

Anguses, oh are like a puzzle to make

A ticking TTL is at stake

Deluxe, bacon and cheese, mushroom and swiss

Surely we’ll leave you in bliss

And our chicken sandwiches don’t chicken

Premium quality we make them

BLT, Club, or Classic

Crispy or grilled will do the trick

Our famous chicken nuggets

Will leave you all breathless

Dunk them in our special sauces

You have eight choices

And to name them all

Would get me a lot of time and trouble =D

Enough chicken, let’s talk fish

We can serve you the Fillet-O-Fish!

With tartar sauce and cheese

That you don’t want to miss

If you want to get your children in a deal

Try our Happy and Mighty Kids meal

With nuggets or burgers and fries

And a toy (for a girl or boy) and no more cries

Green leafy salads we do serve too

With crispy or grilled chicken for you

Bacon Ranch, Caesar, Southwest

The difference I can only guess

(they got veggies that’s for sure)

To the healthier side you all we lure

And like the sauces for the nuggets

The dressings you can search via internet

If you want your fruits done

Try our fruit and walnut salad one

Everything goes better with our fries

Hot and fresh just like our pies

I’d take the large if I were you

And the pies I’d take two

Complete your meals with dessert

To your pocket it won’t hurt

Sundaes for a dollar we sell

Hot fudge, strawberry and caramel

Be in no hurry baby

Maybe try our Mcflurry

You can choose from Oreo and MnM’s

Mixed with ice cream, they’ll cool you in a bam!

Cinnamelts, cookies and parfait

Our sweet treats will make your day!

We don’t serve alcohol,

But we have a dollar for drink any size all

If you want something new

Try our McCafe drinks and not be blue

Get your daily dose of caffeine

And you don’t have to be eighteen

Latte, cappuccino and iced coffee

The flavours will make you free!

Regular, vanilla, sugar free, caramel, and hazelnut

Delicious with no “buts”

Step on your brakes

And try our shakes

Chocolate, strawberry and vanilla

Either way you are a winner

Mocha, Caramel Mocha, and Premium Chocolate

We will satisfy your palette.

All these we serve and more

So you will never get bored

To the taste that is traditional

Close to our hearts, it’s transcendental

One great experience common to all

One place that lifts us every time we fall

A worldwide brand recognized by all

One same big red smile

One friend for that extra mile

Same clown in yellow and red stripe jumpsuit

Same dreams he pursue

That is to make your day extra special

And this world more ideal

And to the tune of “I’m lovin’ it”

Let’s dance to the McDonald’s beat

Paper Hearts

2011-07-03T23:48:00.000-07:00

A friendship is lost--

When you cling on your pride most.

The silence gets harder to bear,

It screams louder I swear.

Why waste time justifying yourself in cold presence,

That I did you wrong and I’m dense

When you know it’s useless-

The war you’re waging is a non sense.

Why can we just make it right?

Make amends and somehow forget that night.

I want you to see me like you did before,

I want us to open another door.

Why ask us to be a notch higher,

When up there you know the air is lighter?

Why make me want to die,

For something I could not fake and lie?

Why swell yourself in all the pain,

When there’s more in life to gain

Than a foolish heart tale?--

A romance, make- believe you can’t bail/

The cold face you throw,

And all the tears you sow

Will take you no further than from here.

Will not make one less tear.

Lo! Paper heart-shaped confetti of youth!

In its name everything’s written in truth!

Until in its frailty it gets torn, the dream broken

And the heart you’ll learn don’t break even.

I could open my arms to catch all the pieces,

Try to put them all back and fill the spaces...

But they might not just fit the same.

And who are we to blame

When these hands are not meant to hold yours?

We just let time run its course.

Oh let the wind blow them away,

Away from unknown lands and there make them stay!

What do we know of love and loss

But papercuts and childish laws?

Risk so much of what we have,

For that something we playfully call love.

Only to find the heart we seek has been taken...

And worse is already forever broken.

That though you open your arms to catch all the pieces,

Put them all back and fill the spaces...

They just might not fit the same

And who is to blame

When your hands are not meant to hold mine?

Let both our wounds heal in time.

Landslide by Fleetwood Mac

2011-06-27T22:45:00.000-07:00

Took this love and I took it down
Climbed a mountain and I turned around
And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills
Till the landslide brought me down

Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?
Can the child within my heart rise above?
And can I sail through the changing ocean tides
Can I handle the seasons of my life?
Oh oh I don't know, oh I don't know

Well, I've been afraid of changing
'Cause I've built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Children get older I'm getting older too
Yes I'm getting older too, so
[ From: http://www.elyrics.net/read/f/fleetwood-mac-lyrics/landslide-lyrics.html ]

I've been afraid of changing
'Cause I, I've built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Children get older
I'm getting older too oh yes
I'm getting older too

So, take this love, take it down
Oh if you climb a mountain and you turn around
If you see my reflection in the snow covered hills
Well the landslide will bring you down, down
And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills

Well maybe the landslide will bring you down
Well well, the landslide will bring you down

© WELSH WITCH MUSIC

Credit Blues and Edgar

2011-06-22T01:08:00.000-07:00

I'm 18.

And it's sick how I feel obligated to always remind people about my age. I'm an adult.
Oh well. With the recent haircut that I had, I'm thinking I might actually wear my I.D> all the time, seriously, I look like an infant.

Anyways, here's a not-so-adult-like story.

Since I have been working for three months now, my aunt thought it's time for me to start building a credible credit line. She said I will need it for future decisions especially when I'm to pursue college.

I wish establishing a 'credible' credit line is easy as swiping one, but they require you all this things and information and whatevs that for a person like me who can't stand humanity...it makes me want to scream.

I hate complexity...it's a waste of time. I hate filling out forms and doing legal paper works and reading pages of agreement and contracts and signing them. I just hate it. They make my head hurt, they bore the hell out of me, they confuse me. I swear I'd prefer living in antiquity than today's crappy tech-corporate world where everything needs to have a written-down documentation.

BLAH.

Anyways, let me get to the point of the whole thing.

I've been planning to get apply for a credit card and the bank advised me to start from those offered by department stores such as Macy's, BestBuy et. al. for now before I get into serious big things. And I'm more than willing to do so, banks scare the crap out of me. Every time I had to go inside to check on my account (or every time I get too near to one) my heart starts to race and pound against my chest. When I opened my first ever account, I felt like my blood was drained that I had to drink three bottled water.

Ohwell.

This morning I planned to go to Macy's and ask for information on how to apply for their credit card. On my way I decided to check out Borders first. I thought if they offer one I'd take it instead of Macy's because after all I think books interest me more than bags and clothes and jewelry. Unfortunately, they offer a sort of Rewards Member card and not a credit one. It's like card that entitles members to have discounts and special offers in the store.

I figured to just avail of it anyway. I mean 10-45% off! Where can you get that?

After getting my membership done I aimed for the door. I kept repeating to myself, "don't look around, just go out and save yourself from spending too much...college that is the priority. You need to save for college."

Oh but cut me some slacks, the temptation was just too much to bear. It's painful even. And I think it's actually disrespectful to just pass by those beautiful works of great minds without even taking a glance at them. I had time, I was not rushing anyway so I spent some time scanning some books.

Then I heard someone whistle at me.

I turned around...it was Edgar Allan Poe.

He wanted me to buy him.

I said no because I have to go to Macy's already and I need to catch the bus and I need to go home before my aunt and uncle do and I'm broke.

He was sad.

He said he was not that expensive, he's on sale.

I look around and Mark Twain was like "Take pity. He's a sad man you know. He's alone" All the other Mark Twains agreed...and so did eveveryone else.

I closed my eyes and succumb to peer pressure and at the same time cursing myself in the process (this is exactly the reason why you should avail of a credit card you weakling!).

The next thing I knew, I heard the usual sound of the cashless device after a card has just swiped in it, the cashier gave me her sweet and victorious smile and an applause of farewell from the shelves of books...

...I thought I heard one said "Till next time my friend!"

On the bus, I looked at Edgar and said "At least we have each other now". I hugged him tight and closed my eyes to sleep.

He said "thank you."

I saved a life. I deserve a monument right now, I know right!

P.S. Yes, this is not an exclusive poetry blog =D

A Shade of What We Were

2011-06-08T00:21:00.001-07:00

Never was never a night

That sadness wasn’t you sight

That tears weren’t your shed

Whether in your dreamy bed

Or inside the sacred bathroom floor

Behind every door

Across the walls of the hall

Graffiti of our fall

Try to look at me in the face

Tell me the pain you’ll erase

Seduce me promises your lies

And all the things I despise

In them I’ll take comfort with our fate

A poor fish caught in bait

We are ugly dummies

Of long lost memories

Shadows of an old soul

In the darkness we crawl

Remnants of a great history

Lost in misery

We are great architects of our time

We’ve built walls between us either can climb

This narrow room feels too wide

Filled with air in every side

Resounding frustration

Like a worship incantation

I like to be reminded of years ago

A seed of hope I try to sow

In the young fields of my childhood

When the world seemed good

Little we know of his true nature

And of the uncertain future

Look at what we have become!

Forever regretful! Forever dumb!

Living life in a routine of mediocrity

Masked by sick love cruelty

No difference between light and darkness

Faces a great portray of vagueness

We’re but fragments of what used to be a whole

Hearts are but an empty hole

As you lie in bed with a deep silence

In bereavement, I light a candle for our existence.

I used to know someone with a face like you

I used to know something so true

If he’s the one I sleep with tonight, I can only wonder

Tonight will stay as a puzzle forever

It’s hard to tell in the spell of the dark

What have become of our hearts.

And in the darkness, we are forced to share

A shade of what we were

Unauthorized use is punishable by law.

To the Apple

2011-06-04T23:02:00.000-07:00

Born in the province.

Raised in distant dreams-

A third world girl

In the Orient’s pearl.

Youngest of three,

First to be free.

My town was intoxicated

With the overseas dream.

They say to make it big

In foreign shore you have to dig.

The sound of fortune

Was never our land’s tune.

Cause in places far-away,

Their hearts dwell and sway.

Tired of problems they can’t bear,

They chose pretence of a life better there.

Like heroes who fell, I chose to believe,

That one day destiny will wake up and relieve

My people from all the pain and hope again

And our share with the good life we’ll one day gain.

But sometime between the years of innocence,

I saw something in the television that did not make sense.

People in suits debating who is right,

While others are starving, living in constant fright.

That night I mourned for Rizal,

And all the great men whose death we made dull.

Their second burial was held in the congress,

No guilt confessed, no flowers were offered to where they rest.

Something in me was forever taken-

A creed in my blood was forgotten.

The innocent girl was butchered,

I walk with my faith shattered.

Spent the next years

Behind shadows of fears,

With a big question mark in my face.

I lived my life in obscurity days.

Walked this parade

Of world crises screaming at my face.

Watched leaders sell their souls

To money and power with every centavo they stole.

Political bullshit, social fuckery-

My country was like the factory.

People lie at their mother’s grave.

In my mind these are engraved.

So I was led to share the dream.

They say there’s a place of clear water in the stream,

Where freedom is a truth to everyone

And opportunity rise everyday to all like the sun.

Now I found myself standing,

Beneath concrete giants, dizzying.

Never thought highways could reach that far;

Nor buildings could touch the stars.

I look around; something in the air was missing-

Cold shoulders and tired faces, a vibe of suffering.

I try to take a bite at the famous apple,

Line’s too long, then people started to grapple.

I stood there confused,

Pushed, kicked, and bruised

Amidst the mob like I was not alive

Until I realized to join the dive.

I rolled my sleeves and fought my way.

At last at the end of the day,

Only a few of us were left

And the night was filled with fret.

I took the apple from the ground,

As my comrades, tired and defeated, gathered around.

Hearts shattered to million pieces that night,

When we realized there’s nothing left to bite.

Oh dreams, American dream!

Lights now ousted by grim!

Its drugs have played its part,

Years of dreaming, we wake up with a regretful heart.

The night is even colder

Home is farther than ever.

What a fool I have been

Chasing luck in alleys I’ve never seen.

Cause sometime in September

I saw something in the television that changed the world forever.

A mass funeral was held in the concrete streets

While a celebration and coronation was in the Middle East.

That day when the twins fell

Everyone was stolen their fairytale.

And as the rest of that morning passed,

So did our dreams collapsed.

What humanity witnessed next

Is the longest requiem in history’s context.

Nearly ten years after the fall,

The mourning continues in every hall.

Deserted streets followed,

Like offices became hollowed.

Every night we are hunted from our sleep

To the sound of falling and crashing debris.

I try my best to recall,

And to make a statement out of it all.

It’s like I’ve seen these all before.

Not much difference from home.

Whether East or West,

Human evil dwell like pests.

Native or foreign land,

The same dilemma in hand.

Lo! To humanity I weep!

And this deathbed we dig deep.

Demons and angels of the mind,

Down dungeons we can’t find.

I was once led to share a dream-

Of a greener meadow and a clear stream.

It turned out the dream was stolen,

Like every hearts around me is broken.

And as the sun bids goodbye again, I pray

Things will get better one day.

Like the people way back home once said.

To dream again, I lie in bed.

This time, I’ll sleep to the view of a well-remembered farm

Where dreams, big or not, never do me harm.

Of family, friends, and sweet childhood years

Of laughter and of innocent tears.

Until then, in foreign sheets I sleep tonight

For tomorrow there’s a long line and fight

For that one big bite of that famous apple

That gets everyone in a grapple.

Unauthorized use is punishable by law.

I Want You To Know That...

2011-05-30T22:34:00.000-07:00

If the Shakespeare in me could write,

I’d spent my life searching for words to rhyme.

A thousand sonnets will never do

For even the sweetest words are too lame for you.

Still I’ll try my luck,

Though words in my head gets stuck.

Tongue is numb, my heart’s too shy

To say the words before you pass by.

Time goes slow,

Every time with you I go.

Worries melt away,

Every time you speak the words I can’t say.

Never thought the sun could shine so bright,

Nor the future could feel so right

And it’s all because of you.

You make dreams come true.

What we have is something beautiful,

And we’ll be forever youthful.

Even years pass us by

Our love will never die.

It’s so simple yet hard to understand,

How two people find each other’s hand.

But it’s better to leave it that way

So we could relieve the magic day by day.

As our sun sets behind the mountains finally,

Memories of us are fresh eternally.

In my heart they are forever safe and warm

Like the way your face never lost its charm.

If the Shakespeare in me could write,

A thousand poems will never be right

To express what we’ve had all these years-

The moments, the happiness, and the tears.

But since I’m just me,

I hope “I love you’ is enough for you dear.

Unauthorized use is punishable by law.

The Night We Killed Each Other

2011-05-28T23:11:00.000-07:00

Something about tonight’s silence

Makes the air so dense

A calm sound of despair

Speaks louder than words we share

The space between us

Filled with questions not asked.

Why do we bother?

When we know that the answer

Couldn’t be any better

Than this life we suffer.

As we lie in our bed

With the same thought in our head

Not a word is spoken

Yet we know we’re broken.

Lost kites of cheerful years

Now left our hearts with nothing but pierce

When I hold your hand,

You know I lie

For in this constant pretence,

We live and die.

You kiss me goodnight

And wish me death

For nothing in this world can pay love’s debt.

Tonight I can barely sleep

Chocking, struggling from the air we both breathe

Questions chose to burry

Now left us in a wary

Heart of Lies, hearts of fools!

Are what we have, It is who we are.

Beloved oh dear,

How did end up here?

Lost in lies, taken for granted

Now what we once had lies forgotten.

Between you and me

Are gray areas of years’ debris

Stories untold, doubts not cleared

Of what we are, what we’ve always feared.

Something about tonight’s silence

Makes the air so dense

A calm sound of despair

Of the devil we both share

Not a word is spoken

Yet we understood something is forever taken

From this love we have forsaken.

Unauthorized use is punishable by law. .

I Want To Write (But Not Shout-Outs)

2011-05-17T20:38:00.000-07:00

-an attempt to explain why I quit Facebook

I honestly do not know if I remember it right but I’ll try my best to recount the way things happened.

For these passed months I’ve been trying to deal with my writing. I feel like I’m losing my voice. Oftentimes I find myself awake at night just trying to get to the bottom of this question- why does my writing does not seem or feel like it used to be? I remember writing before and just feeling high and all...but now it’s becoming such a burden to me. It feels almost like this enormously stubborn pain in my existence that whenever I think about it I can’t help but to recount those “old days” when it was such an easy and relaxing thing for me to do. It was just so fluent to me that I sometimes felt like if writing has become my language, my first way of communication.

However, things happen- one thing led to another and then suddenly it came to a time when it did not feel right anymore. It got so hard that all my brain can come up with are three words- my name. And so I involuntarily took an absence from writing (both in blogger and my notebook). It was just becoming too painful to think that every time I write I’m reminded of this distant feeling I used to have (and yes it does really sound almost like a ghost of an ex-lover). To myself I’m well aware that I took a break from writing but at the same time I felt ashamed of it (or perhaps I could not face it) that I still tried to write and post these song lyrics and amateurish and undoubtedly selfish almost superficial works of mine in my blog just to cover up the crisis that I was in. Also maybe because it was my way of reassuring myself that I can overcome this fall and that I still wanted to maintain this relationship I had built with my craft, like attempting to leave but not fully.

I tried reading (reading a lot) because I said to myself “that’s the reason you idiot. How can you write something worth reading when you don’t read new items...you don’t take in new ideas, new views and possibilities that are refreshing.” And yes for a while I felt like I did overcome the crisis. It felt like I was finally emerging from all this ocean of self issues and crap, like I’m breaking through the surface. However, things were not that easy...as it turned to be, my “breaking though the surface” was only like an everyday whale life scene- you break through the surface of the water only to dive again (and yes a lot deeper). I do not want to sound biblical but it was an apocalyptic experience for me.

I wrested through the issues of “who and/or what am I without writing?”

I just felt excommunicated from this world of written words that I once belonged and I hit so far the lowest point of my life. I felt like I was not living anymore, like a log taken by the current of a river...just barely existing but absolutely not living. This happened in such a dramatic time of my life, we moved in to Hawaii. I had to adjust and deal with all these emotions and work and all. So naturally, writing was put aside. I still wrote once in a while though poems but even these reflect how I felt and what I was going though. I remember a friend of mine telling me my poems are sort of suicidal and gruesome and bleak. And I think yes pretty much they do sound like that because that was the initial emotion I felt...I felt really low.

April was the climax of everything. I tortured myself to write (quite literally). I would cry every night and just mourn the “death of myself”. I cried so hard just so I can find some sort of an exit to all my frustrations. I cried and cried until I was not sure what I was crying for anymore- is it because my parents couldn’t still find a job? Is it because I feel alienated from this place? Is it because I do not recognize myself anymore? It was not healthy. A lot of the pain was emotional and I took that to my body. I lost a lot of weight- something that’s not worth bragging for. It was an idiotic experience. My parents knew little of what I was going through because if there’s one thing that I’m really good at it would be faking things, pretending to be alright. Come to think of it, I’ve been doing that for what felt like forever.

During this period, I admit I turned to Facebook a lot. I’m not saying that I did not have a Facebook account before, in fact I think I’ve always been active with Facebook just because it’s really a good avenue for people to socialize- you get to connect with old friends and meet new ones and all. It’s THE way of exchanging ideas (gossips) and expressing emotions now after all. You know, heart is broken or made complete through a post (shout-out) and all the silly things Facebook has made us possible to do. Then suddenly privacy is a thing of the past, a cliché and that we feel obligated to tell the world every single thing we do (and I mean every single thing ranging from a momentous point of our life like an event of victory to the dumbest, most shallow and trivial things like “oops, I dropped my phone”, “heading to the bathroom”, “watching t.v.” and even “bored’.

I posted those things. I did post a lot of those things- I’m not going to deny that. And yes it felt good. I felt relevant through all these insignificant things I share with the world. I felt noticed and important...something that I only feel when I wrote. So I guess that says it all- Facebook filled the void in my life.

A sense of relevance- an infectious brand Facebook as well as other social networks such as Twitter uniquely offers to today’s generation. Dubbed as “the lost ones” or “the generation X”, we patronize and make a lifestyle out of it. Facebook led the dawning of an era of extended possibilities and this just blows our minds. Ultimately, we view it as this extraordinary rendezvous where people of different walks of life come together and share their innermost thoughts. I have to admit, the tagline of the movie The Social Network couldn’t be any better- Facebook really defined our generation. It is epic...

...in a lot of ways. Then Hollywood is not just a thing for celebrities anymore. We have suddenly turned out to be these effing (forgive the word, as it is obvious it could have been way worse than that) second-rate celebrities- talking only about our lives and making such a big fuss of ourselves. This whole thing about being able to reach to a mass of “unseen” people suddenly makes us so entitled to live in a celebrity-way and we actually love it. We look forward to telling our “news” to other people and all this crap about being on the spotlight, we let ourselves consume us. I think it is just sick.

I really hate to say this but it feel like we turned out to be an army of self-loving, self-advertising trolls (though it is my sincerest intention to not generalize all users...let me clear that this line are only meant to those who deserve it). And if I should be reading this post two months ago, I admit to being one.

Social networks make us really special and it’s what keeping them the “in” thing now. And who am I to blame? It is human nature to like something that makes you special. That’s why we buy the things we want to buy...and that topic is the least of my concern. I trust that broader discussion to Aristotle okay. Now do not get me wrong. This is not me trashing or hating on Facebook or other social network which would be so utterly absurd because blogger is one of them. This is a critique to the person that I was...and ultimately to humanity. It is not the fault of these social networks but us, consumers, and the way we use them. Do we take them too much? Do we consume them to the extent that the things that are most important and special in this life are taken for granted? Do we actually use them to build or rebuild strong relationships? Or do we use them just so we can talk about ourselves and make it the center of the universe?

I know, we join social networks to be a part of something bigger than ourselves. We use them to celebrate life and tell the world the things we do (e.g. “oops, I dropped my phone”, “heading to the bathroom”, “watching t.v.” and even “bored’) is a way of doing so. And revolutionary these social networks are. Who will not be tempted? However, with all honesty left in this world, are these really OUR reason for staying late at night stuck in our monitors?

This is me trashing on how people over-consume anything that is given to them. It is one thing to be involved in these networks but it is completely another thing to be making a LIFE out of it. I honestly think we have taken the power of these social networks to extremes that God forbid we might lose the essence of human touch in the future.

I support these social networks; they are monuments of human achievements. However, let us not turn them into a vice. Let us not make a drug out of them. Let us use them for what they were truly inspired to be made of. Let us look around us and enjoy the other beautiful things we have- and tonight let us connect with our friends again. =D

Facebook gave me something that I was looking for and somehow it made my writing crisis bearable. At least I can write random things in my wall and be assured that my friends will comment back right? It’s addictive the feeling that it gave me. Come on I felt as relevant as Many Pacquiao winning a fight! I could be all frustrated and depressed and I can lock myself in my room and live in this make-believe and pretentious world of mine. For an hour or two, I would feel like a total different person, all worries away and no crisis at hand. It was instant escape from reality and the thing I was painfully dealing with. I went on like this, waking every morning and ending every night to the monitor of my laptop. I refused to face my problem. I said to myself, “my writing will come back when destiny tell it so”.

It is only recently that it dawned me how stupid this sounds. Writing is not just some trained dog that can smell its way back home! I should look for it...look for the things in life that will rekindle it. Don’t rush it up yes but don’t be too relax also. I should be making something that will truly hep myself...go read some good books! Write even if I can’t write, eventually it will come back not because it is destined to but because I actually worked hard to regain it.

I should not be wasting all of my day in front of Facebook. As it turned out, the way I used it was not broadening my sense of community...it was actually doing the exact opposite. I should be seeking new things in my life.

That is why I made a decision to cut myself from Facebook and other social networks aside from Blogger. I feel like I need this “vacation from my own self”. Again I repeat it has nothing to do with Facebook...it’s me. It all begins and ends with the person using the tool. In my case, the way I use Facebook was becoming a distraction from the thing that I really want to do and that is writing. It was preventing me from looking at the bigger picture and focusing on what matters most. I’m at the chapter of my life where I’m trying to cross the highways of the things that concern only myself to the bigger world that I’m a part of. I want my topics in writing to be something new...new in the sense that they just don’t necessarily revolve around the topic of myself. I want my works to have that undying and classical sense. I do not just want to write short shout outs about myself...I want to contribute something that matters not just to me but to humanity.

I will miss my friends, that’s for sure. I will miss the whole thrill of being online (laughs). But I know that the reason why I’m doing this is bigger than that. Why? Because it is for something that I love more than anything else....It is the one thing I know I belong with. It is writing...my existence, my craft, and my passion...MY life. And if this is the sacrifice I have to make, then I’ll do it. I know my friends and family will understand.

I’ll try to live each day with a philosophy- and that is to live my life in reality and continue to search for new things; to never ever get boxed into something and to always keep pushing forward even if it is against the current; to be an INDIVIDUAL of my own definition.

Copyright 2011 © JOY CARMEL S. SAHAGUN.
Unauthorized use is punishable by law. .

The Bus Tale

2011-05-14T22:03:00.000-07:00

On the rear end of the bus

To where I sit there’s a story filled with dust

Told by the sight of everyone’s face...

And so it seems to confess.

There wasn’t any talk but the silence only confirmed

That they all felt the same, that the future is grim

And my heart beat the same.

To where this bus really goes

No one’s telling no one ever really seems to know

But forward the bus moves on.

Copyright 2011 © JOY CARMEL S. SAHAGUN.

Unauthorized use is punishable by law. .

To where this bus really goes

In the journey of the unknown

Where uncertainty is the only air you breathe.

Innocent dreams yesterday

Looked where they have led you today

A place you can’t even say.

Privileged “the few”

Look at what life has stolen from you

Things that are the most true.

And I sit among

These poor mundane puppets

As I ride along

I feel that I do not belong.

Requiem In The Night

2011-05-13T12:36:00.000-07:00

In the night dreams come alive

You turn to sleep, the friend you keep.

You fall to this scheme of fantasy-

Rainbow-colored creativity

Of a man’s insanity-your own insecurity.

You crawl to bed, hide under the sheet

Of your shame. And it’s comforting

That tonight you get to die, an escape from defeat

Like a child in a deep dreaming.

Only this time the shades of innocence is lost

Copyright 2011 © JOY CARMEL S. SAHAGUN.

Unauthorized use is punishable by law. .

Turned to a dark craving, a mourning to the self

Happens each night in your bed while you’re asleep.

The bells of the requiem start to sing.

Only you hear it like an momentous applaud

Though you know in peasant robes you’re clothed

Golden threads glimmer of hoax, you feel like a giant

As the dreamy chanting continues in your head.

So there you stand at the world’s crossing-

Bare feet in the city street, staring at a picturesque scene lying

To yourself that you’re a part of

Everything that’s makes this picture so perfect.

The mirth of the city seems to

Make you sleep and dwell to

A mad pretence, you’re existence

Now’s a joke except you’re not laughing.

And all you can do is to stand there and smile.

Helpless to the spell of the Skyscrapers and city lights

And in everything that is a lie, like tonight’s stars

And the city you dream of but you’re not a part of.

Still you say you wish you’re not sleeping.

When you know last night pills still kicking

And you swear you’re a part of something-

A part of a big fat nothing, an empty lying

When the waking sun defeats the drugs that run,

You find yourself alone in an empty bed, sacked

From the city and yes you say you were dreaming

But at least for a night you were something.

And the requiem opens to another act.

Anything To Get You Through the Night

2011-05-09T00:04:00.000-07:00

No sleep since 1992

I so cannot wait to write something worth reading again. I hope to get my head straight and make my blog interesting as it should be. But for now, anything to keep this blog from rotting...so why not pose a photo of me? great idea.

A Song That Speaks The Words We Couldn't Say

2011-05-07T21:49:00.000-07:00

21 GUNS by GREEN DAY

Do you know what's worth fighting for?
When it's not worth dying for?
Does it take your breath away
And you feel yourself suffocating?

Does the pain weigh out the pride?
And you look for a place to hide?
Did someone break your heart inside?
You're in ruins

One, 21 guns
Lay down your arms, give up the fight
One, 21 guns
Throw up your arms into the sky,
YOU and I

When you're at the end of the road
And you lost all sense of control
And your thoughts have taken their toll
When your mind breaks the spirit of your soul

Your faith walks on broken glass
And the hangover doesn't pass
Nothing's ever built to last
You're in ruins

One, 21 guns
Lay down your arms, give up the fight
One, 21 guns
Throw up your arms into the sky,
YOU and I

Did you try to live on your own
When you burned down the house and home?
Did you stand too close to the fire
Like a liar looking for forgiveness from a stone?

When it's time to live and let die
And you can't get another try
Something inside this heart has died
You're in ruins

One, 21 guns
Lay down your arms, give up the fight
One, 21 guns
Throw up your arms into the sky,
YOU and I

One, 21 GUNS
Lay down your arms, give up the fight
One, 21 GUNS
Throw up your arms into the sky,
YOU and I

© CHRYSALIS MUSIC LTD.

...

I think pure emotion makes the most beautiful music.

It just mirrors honesty...reality though it is a sad. And I think it is where the beauty of this song originates because people who listen to this actually feel like they belong, that they are not alone, that they are understood and that it is okay. It awakens us back to reality....cause yes no matter how we deny it, sometimes this world is just a cruel and gloomy place to live in. AND you are going to just take that and LIVE by accepting it and not by running away from it.

This song is braver than most of us. I guess music in general is.

The world has this overwhelming deceitful power of silencing us, of keeping our real feelings at bay and so we become these mute prisoners of our own cowardliness whose only dim access to freedom is through music like this.

After all, that's what music does...it tells the truth that mutes us.

It speaks up the all the words we couldn't say.

Seasons of Love

2011-04-20T15:23:00.000-07:00

Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes,
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Moments so dear

Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?

In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights
In cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife

In five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure a year in the life?

How about love? How about love?
How about love? Measure in love

Seasons of love
Seasons of love

Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand

Journeys to plan

Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure the life
Of a woman or a man?

In truths that she learned
Or in times that he cried
In bridges he burned
Or the way that she died

It's time now to sing out
Tho' the story never ends
Let's celebrate
Remember a year in the life of friends

Remember the love
(Oh you got to, got to)
Remember the love
(Remember the love)
Seasons of love
(Measure measure you life in love)
Seasons of love
Seasons of love

[DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything. Copyright belongs to the rightful owner. I got this from www.elyrics.com. Click here to go to the page.]

An Utter Tale of Melancholy

2011-04-16T23:47:00.000-07:00

It is sad that life is spent in a never ending hunt.

Years gets piled up searching for the things unseen-

For that something even I myself do not know.

Like a blind man groping in his infinite night,

So are we, or t least me, in this something I have to fight.

An elusive stranger’s shadow lurking,

A foreign whistling and whispering

At the corner of every alley we are seeking.

A story lost somewhere between generations

Of utter foolishness- mankind’s greatest creation.

Never with certainty but uncertainty itself.

Never with sanity but insanity itself.

Waking up each morning to resume a hopeless searching

Unfinished business of yesterday’s drama waiting

To be retold, rewritten with the same words .

It’s inescapable! This world I made with you.

All these lies spun like thick web without rescue.

I get drunk with your words-rotten lies

Straight from your mouth that smells of perfume.

Lie after lie we created this our own refuge.

You tell me we lost souls seek things forever

And in this search it is fate that we found each other.

Curse or luck, we are stuck with each other

But at least we have one another.

You tell me unheard fables

I let you lead me on, I keep believing

Promises made by your deceitful heart, you keep scheming

Plotting stories of your own, your twisted idea of pleasure

But then I believe and therefore I’m alive again.

Alive with you, to keep you company.

But only for now, for tomorrow’s another story.

I will have to hear them again- same lies, spoiled promises

You keep feeding me and I keep receiving, indulging.

And it’s sick that I’ve known this truth forever and still pretend like I don’t.

Cause sweet darling life is filled with mediocrity

And somehow your presence makes it bearable to me.

I’d rather listen and take your stupid fantasy,

Let your toxic tongue do the favour of living for me.

Let me be dragged to the depths of this make-believe.

Your touch is a friend in this hollow existence.

I reside in the world we both created-

Get enveloped; want to get lost forever lost in your darkness.

Under these sheets of lies I feel comfort, I see nothing

And therefore I feel less alone.

I sway myself under the spell of a familiar rhythm.

I sway till I’ am no more- that I feel no more.

Things spin, mirrors smash everything breaks

And I seem to paint these walls with pain.

Things turn prettier with red I think.

This crimson lace flows from my hand down to the marble floor

A beautiful stream of sparkling rubies and I feel no more.

Relieved-yes that’s what I feel.

Like this bleeding means draining the misery out of me.

Suddenly the world seems to be quiet, not judging, friendlier to me.

And then the words- oh yes your sweet words that never fail

I need to hear them all again, I need to feel them true again.

Like a lullaby to a sleeping child, oh how they assure me!

Oh how they promise me of tomorrow- of sun and green hills

And kites and butterflies that fly in the sky free of sorrow.

Oh how they fill me with warm security and calmness-

Your words are a beautiful lie, the most exquisite wine.

Let indulgence take control, let me drink it all.

Fill my glass up, fill me up-

All the way up to the brim!

And I shall faint of good reason,

Down to the soft fabrics of your treason.

Let the eternal sobbing of my soul come to rest

In this bed where everything comes to an end.

We wrap ourselves with each other.

We turn to each to each other’s darkness and are one once again.

We know each other too well.

You and I, two people of the same face, the same body.

You are the face I wake up to every morning.

The face I have to wear and live with everyday.

A part of each other, we are inseparable.

I look at the mirror and wish to rip you off of me, to be free

But I can’t for I feed in you and you feed in me.

We feed in each other's fantasy.

And that’s how we live life eternally...sadly-

I'm In Here by Sia

2011-04-16T19:54:00.000-07:00

I'm in here, can anybody see me?
Can anybody help?

I'm in here, a prisoner of history,
Can anybody help?

[CHORUS]
Can't you hear my call?
Are you coming to get me now?
I've been waiting for
You to come rescue me.
I need you to hold
All of the sadness I cannot
Live with inside of me.

I'm in here, I'm trying to tell you something,
Can anybody help?

I'm in here, I'm calling out but you can't hear,
Can anybody help?

Can't you hear my call?
Are you coming to get me now?
I've been waiting for
You to come rescue me.
I need you to hold
All of the sadness I cannot
Live with inside of me.

I'm crying out, I'm breaking down,
I am fearing it all,
Stuck inside these walls,
Tell me there is hope for me
Is anybody out there listening?

Can't you hear my call?
Are you coming to get me now?
I've been waiting for
You to come rescue me.
I need you to hold
All of the sadness I cannot
Live with inside of me.

Can't you hear my call?
Are you coming to get me now?
I've been waiting for
You to come rescue me.
I need you to hold
All of the sadness I cannot
Live with inside of me.

I'm in here, can anybody see me?
Can anybody help?

[DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything. Copyright belongs to the rightful owners. I got the lyrics from www.elyrics.com. Click here for the page.]

Travelling in Flats: Waikele

2011-03-15T03:26:00.001-07:00

It started with a question: What did Little Red Riding Hood felt when she went to her grandmother’s house alone.

I had this bugging question in my head last night before I went to sleep. I don’t know from what corner of my brain or what random dimension of the universe did it come from. I just found myself unable to sleep in my bed just thinking about it. And I swear trying to figure it out was so much harder than algebra.

I came up with a brilliant idea: try it! Tomorrow I’ll play Little Red Riding Hood and try to find my way to my grandmother’s house. The problem was I have no grandmother here (I have in the Philippines but I thought it was idiotic to walk from Ewa Beach Hawaii to Brgy.43 Cavit Laoag City Philippines- I might not survive the Pacific). And yeah before I forget, I also did not have a red hood nor a basket of homemade cookies. As for the wolf I was not so sure.

After much thinking and coffee, I came up with a decision and that is to go to Waikele. Just that. I then slept feeling satisfied and happy.

Four hours later (I slept late you see trying to figure out things) I woke up with my alarm clock ringing like there’s fire. It was seven thirty in the morning and as usual the people in the house have already fled to their working destinations. Even my parents were gone to apply for my mother’s State I.D. and I was left with Tango the Dog.

Poor dog always left alone with his bowl of dog food and water, I thought as I poured milk in my mug. Tango was staring at me like I was food or something and it made me feel uncomfortable. I tried to dismiss the idea (it’s gruesome don’t you think?) but Tango won’t stop and even licked his mouth showing his teeth-eyes staring at me. I felt the hair at the back of my neck stood straight then it dawned me- The Wolf! I forgot I should be Little Red Riding Hood today! Bummer!

I rushed to get my towel and started taking a bath like a mad man. I was not scared of Tango. Come on he’s not going to swallow me. That’s silly. I’m like thrice bigger than him. I know people who eat the likes of Tango back in the Philippines. Anyway, I put on my pink stripes hoodie shirt and maong pants, slipped on my flats, grabbed my bag and an outdated map of Oahu. I said goodbyes to Tango who was already sleeping and hit the road. I took the bus E Express and stopped at Waipahu Shopping Plaza hoping to submit my application at Max’s of Manila. While walking I noticed how beautiful the day was and predicted a blissful adventure ahead of me, nothing can go wrong, I sang in my head. Alas, (Little Red Riding Hood did not make it alive in the pages of our fairy tale books without a few mishaps right?) and so I thought as I realized that the restaurant will not open until eleven in the morning and it was still like nine. I was not going to wait there for my life so I decided to proceed to Waikele now and just drop the application when I go home. I was told by my auntie to ask the bus drivers what bus will I take to get to Waikele , I did exactly as this and found out that it is Bus 433 but first I must get to Waipahu Transit Center down the hill because all the busses pass there. I figured since I was in Waipahu Shopping Center it is better to walk than to wait for another bus, Waipahu Transit Center could not be that far, I said to myself. Also I’m supposed to play Little Red Riding Hood right? She did not take busses in the story, I try to convince myself.

So the walking began. And considering the sweat in my face it was not a short walk even without picking flowers and running after butterflies. I walked and walked and then crossed streets and walked some more. Down the hill I said to myself copying the driver’s voice. When will this hill come to a down! I managed to barked and a child nearby actually ran for his dear life. My feet were hurting so I decided to wait for a bus that will take me to the Transit Center- or anywhere. I waited for 30 minutes my bus was still out of sight. I went to the nearest store to buy something to drink and at the same time ask questions regarding my aloft bus. A lady assured me that I just have to wait. There I was standing in a God knows where bus stop on earth with a giant bottle of Mountain Dew and waiting for what felt like forever. I was starting to consider the possibility of making a fire when it finally arrived. I was like a stranded girl finally being rescued from a lonely unknown island. Before I knew it I was already standing at the Waipahu Transit Center and then on board the 433 bus to Waikele. Riding on the bus felt liberating, I felt like an adult. Occasionally I would look outside my window and admire the green landscapes. They were beautiful, perfectly created by God. Minutes later I was at Waikele Shopping Center and I jumped off the bus (literally).

This is going to be quite an epic Joy, I said to myself, prepare for the war. I thought instead of wasting my time window shopping and coveting for things I can’t afford to buy for all my life I decided to go job hunting. My plan was to enter every shop spend a couple of minutes looking around and then simply ask for an application (like it was a spur out of moment idea) then take another minute looking around before finally making an unnoticed escape for the next store. Huh, good plan I said.

And so I did. I went to every single shop. The feeling was so surreal. It was like 90210 in Hawaii. There were couture shops, boutiques, and exclusive outlets of famous brands like BCBG Max Azria, Armani Exchange, Charlotte Russe, Coach and more. Barneys of New York and Saks were even there! They had brands like Chanel, Hermes (which reminded me of what Emma wants me to buy for her) etc. I looked to their prices and almost went nuts $565.00 for a leather jacket; almost a thousand dollars for a bag; $300-$700 for a dress-are you kidding me? I wondered if there were gold or some ancient text embedded beneath them. The prices hurt my eyes (and feelings knowing I’m gonna break my friends’ hearts for buying I LOVE HAWAII t-shirts instead). Nevertheless there is no denying that they were beautiful like art pieces of the fashion world. The dresses were super cute and elegant and just beautiful. If Sheila were here she’d be nuts, I caught myself chanting as I touched every shoe and dress. They have these amazing floral cute mini dresses that I totally think would fit beautifully on Sheila. They were sort of short but there was this undeniable girly neatness and innocence about them as if you are breathing nature when you see them. The shoes and bags also were just perfect and adorable. And ALL of them are downright blindingly expensive. They are way too out of my pocket’s ability.

After praising the cuts, colors, and style of the products and literally gasping at their products I forced myself back to reality and asked for applications. Some gave me applications, others told me go online and two actually denied me saying they’re not hiring and that I’m too short for the job. What’s the job anyway? Do I need to be as tall as Yao Ming in order to tend to the needs of the customer? Whatever, I erase the hurting. Later did I comprehend that maybe it was not just my height that was in the issue...maybe it was the way I dress or look or in other words they don’t like my fashion taste (I don’t even know if I have one to be honest). I’m not sure if that made me feel better...there was like a pang of pain I can’t erase as I kept on walking pretending to be like a tourist.

Did those who gave me applications just pity me? Did they give me applications because they think I might fit or did they just do that because they thought I was a poor thing? I felt sick. Maybe right after I went out each door they gathered around saying “look at that poor girl”.

Suddenly, all the excitement the dresses, shoes and bags brought me did not matter. After all, reality is I’m not touring around I’ am in desperate need of a job. A job that will somehow make me earn for my college. Any job will do. I just need something to make me feel like I’m useful, needed, and alive. Again I said to myself any job will do. I thought of Gordon, the manager who interviewed me for a possible cashier position at some drug store. He said he’ll call Monday or Tuesday if he’s considering my application. Well it’s Monday already. I wondered if he had call or if he will call. I hope he does call me. Any job will do I found myself repeating over and over again as I walked randomly.

I remembered my supposed to be Little Red Riding Hood adventure but somehow I don’t feel like it. Out of the blue I felt like Ugly Duckling- rejected, poor, desperate and of course ugly. I wondered if the time for me to turn into a lovely swan is still far off the coast...or will it ever happen I doubt it. I realized I’ve been doubting a lot more often than I eat rice these passed days or shall I say ever since we got here. I felt pressured. I remember feeling like this only when I’m cramming for a exam or chasing some paper deadline. This time it is more real than ever.

I walked aimlessly to the bus stop where several people were already waiting. I looked around the shopping place and it was so beautiful. It was like a scene from a Hollywood movie, you know just fun, relaxed, shopping and enjoying life. It was perfect...only I felt like an outcast, like I never belong to this place and that I can dream to be there but just that, never really coexist with it. I hate to say this but for a second I actually felt like a trash.

I did not want to be rich anyway. Seriously I’m not being a hypocrite, in my heart I never lusted for wealth. Yes I might have said otherwise but never really meant it. All I ever wanted was to be an experienced human being, someone who knows enough, someone who writes books and is smart, someone who wants to learn the secret pleasures and wonders of life...someone who dedicates her life to her craft and art. But the thing is right now I have a family who needs me. I can’t help my parents pay our debt by being this someone. I can’t pay rent in the future through this noble act of arts. In this age sometimes practicality comes first than art- not necessarily more significant or applauding but really if you are in situations like mine you would understand.

I just want my family to be stable and have a better life...they deserve to. Who doesn’t?

I don’t even know how this supposed to be Little Red Riding Hood travelogue came to this abrupt sad tone(blame those who denied me applications =D). As Jean-Paul Sartre said “Hell is other people”.

I reached the bus stop and once again felt like one of the people- tired and eternally waiting for some change of luck. I like bus stops, I never feel alone inside their shade. I feel normal, accepted and somehow understood as I sit next to these people. I feel like we are strangers but know each other at the same time for generally we share the same stories.

I searched for my bus pass and shoot I must have left it at the last store I checked. I went back for it and by the time I returned to the bus stop, the bus had already started its engine and was about to go. The people looked at me through their windows; their faces bore no emotions just tired and wrinkled like they have already surrendered to life. I ran after it waving my hand wildly in the air though I know it will not stop for me. I stood there panting and gas smoke in my face...thinking just my luck.

I went back to the now deserted bus stop. I sat there waiting and not thinking about the next bus...rather I was hoping to not miss life like I always do with busses

Copyright 2011 © JOY CARMEL S. SAHAGUN. Unauthorized use is punishable by law. .

Disturbia

2011-03-13T18:25:00.000-07:00

Elizabeth

2011-03-12T23:59:00.000-08:00

We Are All An Eponine In Our Own Way

2011-03-12T01:04:00.000-08:00

I was walking around the city this afternoon just trying to get used to the busy streets of Honolulu. Taking the bus was more complicated than I previously thought-so many routes and streets and roads I can't pronounce. Instead of getting to know the place I actually ended up being more estranged from it. The bus was becoming more of a headache so I decided to take the challenge of finding my way around by walking (it was a good thing I was wearing flats). So there I was, among towering buildings and busy streets, a tiny poor girl with a crumpled useless map and my Heartstrings maong mesh bag-what an unfortunate sight. Sweating and thirsty I went inside a grocery store and bought myself a giant size soda. I sat there for a while thinking how and why in the first place was I here. Looking at the tangled streets of Honolulu through the glass window I traced back through the dusty files of my mind.

As I was taking a not-so-blissful trip down memory lane something else caught my attention. There was this woman dressed in a red skirt and white top with a grocery cart filled with random things. She was somewhat middle-aged at most 40 perhaps and she had this big rose clipped in her hair (and I mean BIG, it was a huge rose). Her eyes were so intently focused at me with a somewhat loving and longing look that for a second I thought she was talking to me. And indeed she was really talking...but not to me. She was talking to herself or to a someone who only exists in her head. then she started laughing around like a smitten high school girl and dancing as if she was with some waltz partner. I thought it was rude to stare so I left the store. Still I could not help but to eavesdrop when I passed her.

Here is what I learned from the few second eavesdropping: She has a lover called Alfredo and they were supposedly walking in some "beautiful romantic street".

I felt sad for the lady. I wish someone would tell her Alfredo is not true...maybe was true but now gone. And that they are absolutely not walking down a "beautiful romantic street". To make things weirder a song suddenly played in my head. It was a song I first heard when I was in second year high school and until now it leaves me with goose bumps and tears.

I guess the lady is like Eponine of Les Miserables.

Eponine:
And now I'm all alone again nowhere to go, no one
to turn to
i did not want your money sir, i can not hear 'cause i was told to
But now the night is near
And I can make believe he's here

Sometimes I walk alone at night
When everybody else is sleeping
I think of him and then I'm happy
With the company I'm keeping
The city goes to bed
And I can live inside my head

On my own
Pretending he's beside me
All alone
I walk with him till morning
Without him
I feel his arms around me
And when I lose my way I close my eyes
And he has found me

In the rain the pavement shines like silver
All the lights are misty in the river
In the darkness, the trees are full of starlight
And all I see is him and me forever and forever

And I know it's only in my mind
That I'm talking to myself and not to him
And although I know that he is blind
Still I say, there's a way for us

I love him
But when the night is over
He is gone
The river's just a river
Without him
The world around me changes
The trees are bare and everywhere
The streets are full of strangers

I love him
But every day I'm learning
All my life
I've only been pretending
Without me
His world would go on turning
A world that's full of happiness
That I have never known

I love him
I love him
I love him
But only on my own

But maybe my guess is wrong. The truth is we all like Eponine and the lady. Slaves to a fantasy we can't let go. Tied with a memory we can't erase.Living in a world of make-believe.

I took the E Express bus to Ewa Beach feeling sad for myself rather than to the lady with a big rose clipped in her head...or to Eponine and everybody else.

[DISCLAIMER: I do not own the lyrics above.

I got it from elyrics.net. Click here for the link.]

Ferdinand

2011-03-11T15:22:00.000-08:00

These Four Walls

2011-02-28T17:20:00.000-08:00

Weak knees in a shiver;

I found myself in a wonder

Down to the bathroom floor.

Their cold touch in the cheek

Makes me want to sleep

A thousand never ending dream,

And just drift to a colossal nothingness.

Shattered mirrors drained with blood

Reflect a blurry face of a girl so sad.

I knew her once I think;

Or did I? Again I think.

Is she just clay moulded

By a stranger’s hands, crafted?

Still she looks at me;

Face to face we tell the same, her story

The scattered light raining scars,

Divide into specs of stars

And the chilly air of loneliness,

Dries me up inside with emptiness, hopelessness.

I walk my two fingers across

These scarlet tiles of dreams lost;

Playing with sounds of distant murmurs.

And oh yes! there is one hope left---

These four walls, my allies never forget.

Four cold walls, my truthful acquaintance

In times of misery, you give acceptance.

Staring at me, listening, comforting;

Just standing, expecting not much from me, never complaining.

Now to nowhere I go, I leave my fateful lover,

And to the soft music of silence I sleep forever.

Their stony faces the last I see,

The People, The Doubts, The Tears

2011-02-23T00:04:00.001-08:00

I woke up this morning with my wt pillows, hurting eyes, and muffled voices in the kitchen. It took me a while to realize that everything has changed now. My mind went through a slow rewind of events that happened these past days- buying our luggage, people saying goodbye, airport, airplanes, smiling faces, then coconut trees-shoot I’m in Hawaii. I stayed in my bed for a few minutes more just staring at the white ceiling of our room, looking around I see unpacked luggage and clothes. The usual stiff bed I had back in home was gone and I know when I get up I will not see my brothers still snoring in their beds and my lola smoking her tobacco anymore. I never thought I would but I miss my family in the Philippines very much.

Today we went to church in Waipahu. Most of the people attending were Filipinos and we greeted each other with a smile. Somehow I got the feeling as they smiled back that they know what we are going through and I felt comforted. The priest talked about loving your neighbours and praying for your enemies. I was not that paying attention to the preaching of the priest instead I sat there talking to God, wondering if He was too busy t listen to me...or if He would still care to after all the gap I’ve created. I just needed someone, something to hold on to and to assure me everything will be fine. I looked at my parents beside me and realized that they have grown old...they are not that young anymore. My father is nearing 60 while my mom is 54. Things are not the way they used to be and I can’t just depend to them. I can’t just ask everything from them now I have to work. This time the responsibility is mine and I must think and act like an adult already. This means that I’ am not the only priority anymore and that I should think beyond myself.

Doubts started to fill me up. I ask myself am I ready? Can I do this? Am I that mature enough? Am I really 18 now? I remember being proud and excited when I turned 18 last July. I was so ready to conquer the world I was even impatient with how things were working. I was like bring it on I want some challenge...I was so damn tough, aggressive, and bold. Now here I sit in this church, feeling cold, heavy and talking to God who might not be listening anyway. Here I’ am shrinking from the responsibility in front of me, knees shaking in front of a challenge I was so impatiently waiting months before...something bigger than myself. The priest continues to talk and I wonder if listening to his sermon can save me from the road that lies ahead. I shook my head and pinched my arm real hard. I needed to wake up from this long sleep of doubt. I will not let this drown me, I hope. Maybe I just miss home. Maybe I’m just adjusting. Maybe when we get to talk to people who understand our situation I will be fine. Maybe...but hey that is still a doubt.

The rest of the day was spent talking to visitors who came to see us and get their “paoits”. First was Mr. Larry Ramirez who is an alumnus of the Ilocos Norte Collge of Arts and Trades. He knew my parents and aunt Leoning and they talked about a lot of things. He related his experiences when he first came here and I knew we are not the only one in the history of humanity who feels like this. He said everything will turn out fine once we get used to being away from home and one day we will look back at these days with a smile and a sense of relief. He also told me that in here there is equality and that I should go to college here. Then the conversation drifted to snakes (I know it’s weird). His visit really helped me a lot and I can say the same for my parents. I felt lighter...understood, and encouraged. I wished his talking would never come to an end. I just want to listen and listen some more but alas he had to go and promised to come to our welcome party this Saturday. I’m looking forward to talking with him again, or at least to just listen.

After Mr. Ramirez, manong Edison and uncle Eduardo visited. They are our relatives in Cavit who came here years ago. In fact I can still remember their despedida. I was not able to meet them because I was dead asleep. Maybe the jet lag is still kicking my senses. However in between my sleep I can hear their laughter and voices. When I woke up it was already past five and I missed the walking with Tango. After a few minutes uncle Edmund and his wife came to visit us. He brought pizzas and malasadas. Pizzas here are much bigger and topping were like really big. This makes me wonder if Hawaii is a place for giants. Then came the Dumbrique family (I’m not sure with the spelling) and brought kilawin nga kalding (goat meat). Mrs. Agpaoa and her husband came next. She used to be a Math teacher at INCAT and she also tutored me for two years. We talked and talked and shared stories and experiences the whole evening until they went home. I also learned about the recently formed Cavit Association of Hawaii which will be sort of our companion and helping hand. Meeting them somehow gives me strength. I wish someday we will also be in their place talking to newcomers the way of life here and how we adjusted. These are the people who can help us to build our life here. These are the people we can trust, talked to and run to. This is family away from home.

This has been our second day in Hawaii but it feels like years. As I type this entry a corner of my minds keeps thinking what will tomorrow make me feel. I lie here looking through my window and all I see are shades of loneliness- white painting, empty backyards and houses, and passing cars. It is the strangest thing that these pretty dainty houses seem to cast a lonely and longing shadow. Houses here are painted with dull monotone colors like gray, white, dirty white, brown. They seem to talk with me as I stare at them, telling me I’m not alone. There’s this certain sadness I can’t explain that seems to betray their perfection and beauty. Everything here is pretty much occupied with the western way of life- you go to work come home to sleep and take a bath then back to work again. Will that be my life too when I get to adjust here? Then maybe these houses would soon stop talking to me.

Inside my uncle’s house, every space seems to double that you feel miles apart from the person sitting across you in the table. The tiled floors are twice colder than they should be and even though the fridge is filled with food I was craving back in the Philippines, food and drinks I had never seen and my brothers would cry for I feel full and hungry at the same time that I don’t know which of these is true. Full because the sight of it is already enough plus it is not that blissful to eat without my brothers and hungry not of food but that of home.

I don’t feel comfortable here. I feel detached like every move I make is being watched and that I’ am a stranger to everything I see and touch. It’s not my uncle and aunt, they have been nothing short of welcoming and warm. It is just that I don’t feel myself here like the person I see in the mirror when I brush at night is somebody else. Well, perhaps aside from the bathroom and the painting in our room. The bathroom is the only place in the house where I can say I’ am myself. Maybe it is because nobody can see me when I’m in it. In our two days here I can’t count the number of times I went to the bathroom and just sit and think and cry. Sometimes I stayed there for like an hour. There’s a sense of comfort and security I feel when I sit in the bathroom, I actually feel relaxed. The first time I used the shower I cried really hard. Salty tears and cold water came washing my face at the whole time. It is the only place where I can cry without anybody knowing. It is the only place where I’ am allowed to be weak. I don’t want my parents to be worried and stressed. I can take care of myself. I will. I’ am just going to suck all the pain up.

The painting on the other hand is the only thing in the house that does not seem detached from me at all. It is very welcoming and warm. At night I would stare at it and feel relieved that somehow somewhere in this house and in this whole island there is a place that evokes happiness. When my uncle and aunt talked to my parents about getting starting to seek their own jobs so that we can live independently I would lock myself up in our room and just look at the painting and wish to be transported there in those fields under those clouds. More than one I wished that I could live there and maybe my parents too and we can spend the rest of our lives walking the vast fields, fishing in the pond, and eating fruits. I wish the painter could have just painted us there in the first place.

Oh well... I guess I’m still lucky to have the darkness to mask my tears in the night. And the sound of the passing cars to cover my sobbing.

I don’t want my parents to be so tired while they work here. They deserve better. I promise myself I’m going to look for a job here. Once we have our jobs we’ll save money so that we can get our own apartment. I’ll work really hard and save as much as I could to rebuild us a life here. Hopefully when things get better I can go to college and finish my education. For now the priority is my family. I can get back to college at any age anyway. I don’t give a damn on what people would say or think. This is America and everyone is given the same opportunity. You can have as much as you have worked hard for. If I work hard enough I can get myself to college. It does not matter how long as long as I’ll get there.

I’m going to continue writing. I might end up with other profession but I will always be a writer. I’ll write a book that will define who I’ am and how I lived...my masterpiece. Things will be hard but everything will turn out fine.

Copyright 2011 © JOY CARMEL S. SAHAGUN. Unauthorized use is punishable by law.

The Dream, The House, The Dog, The Neighbourhood, The New Life

2011-02-22T07:37:00.000-08:00

Our first day in Hawaii soon comes to an end as the busy road returns to silence in the night. I find myself drowsily typing away words in my laptop, trying to come up with sentences and checking my grammar to the best of my ability (and consciousness) while my senses try to keep up with my fingers. I’ve never felt this sleepy in my whole life- my eyes are giving up, I yawn as much as I type, and body has this weird need to just collapse. Anyway, as much as I want to sleep a lot of things happened today that I wish to share...or maybe I just want someone to talk to.

We arrived at the Hawaii International Airport at about past seven in the morning. Walking away from the airplane it is only then that I realized how gigantic it was. We walked through winding hallways just merely following the arrow signs for immigrants. Through the glass windows we get our first glimpse of Hawaii with its blue sky and coconut trees. Hawaii, the place to be, the dream. As long as I can recall, my dad always dreamt of going to Hawaii. It was for him the place where dreams come true. I think I was grade two then when this Hawaiian dream started to take its first tiny tiny step and since then my father has always believed. My uncle Mariano, the younger brother of my father, lives here with his wife aunt Leoning and children, manong Leomar, mamang Sheryl and manong John. Back to the Philippines, they were like legends to me. They have a photo taken when they were younger posted in our living room and as a child they were like The Kennedys to me. I would look at them and wonder what they look like in person- Are they big? Do they play hide and seek? Do they like to coloring books? And so, this was beginning of my version of the Hawaiian dream- to meet them.

Back to the airport, we were ushered to a line meant for immigrants. I looked around and all I saw were big people. They were like several feet taller than me, I felt like a child. After waiting in the line for our papers to be processed we finally picked up our luggage. I realized that many Filipino especially Ilocano had the same dream like us-they were everywhere! Outside the airport we were met by my uncle Mariano and Aunt Leoning. I can’t help but notice the resemblance between my father and uncle as they embraced each other-only I think my father looked more tried by life. They both went to the house first with most of our luggage while I, my mother and aunt Leoning waited manong John to pick us up. After half an hour he finally came and for the first time I got to see him personally. He hugged me and asked about our flight. For the record, he does not look like his photo posted in our living room except maybe for his smile. He drove us to their house where we will live for the mean time. My uncle and aunt’s house is located in Maka’aloa St Ewa Beach. It is a beautiful house considering where I came from. Most of it is white like those American houses I used to see in the movies. We were warmly welcomed and told that we will sleep in manong Leomar’s room while he is still in Afghanistan...which kinda set the deadline for us and we understand. They have A life here already while we are just to start. We are not just supposed to show up and alter their lives right? Here in Hawaii, we are nobody and that in order to survive we need to build our lives back from scratch. In fact we are lucky enough to have a place to live temporarily. When my uncle and aunt came here they rented a room already. Anyways, I hope I really hope things start to change pretty soon. My uncle showed us around the house and taught us how to use things- how to use the bathroom, the doors, the kitchen, the microwave and among other things. The house has four bedrooms one for each child and the master bedroom. It has three bathrooms one in the first floor near our room and two upstairs. They a two fridge full of stuffs, one in the garage and the other is in the kitchen. I felt so little inside the house like a stranger in a foreign island. Gone is the dirty kitchen we used to have in the Philippines. My uncle gave me my OWN keys to the house. The feeling when the cold metal keys touched my hands was epic, I think I heard the Philharmonic playing in the background. They are my first REAL keys in my whole life! Yeah I’ve had keys before but what-diary keys? Also I had this key to my room during my first year at UP Baguio but it is useless for my doorknob was broken. As a result, that key turned out to be a display, a mere bogus bragging symbol of independence. This time however is different; they actually work and are very useful. I have this responsibility of always having them whenever I go because if not I’m dead- I like the sense of urgency they denote. I also noticed the paintings in the walls particularly the one in our room. It is a painting of a pond in the fields. Beside the pond are trees and tall grasses and above all of it is a cloudy sky. Somehow I feel comforted when I stare at the deep pond.

I also met Tango the dog for the very first time. Dogs any other pets here are considered a members of the family- they eat food especially made for them, they get medical check up, they have their own shampoos and stuffs. They are not just animals around the corner; they are loved and talked to like real people. I’ve seen Tango before in pictures, he (yes tango is a boy) would always be beside my uncle. He is my uncle’s baby and he loves him like his own child. Sure we all care about our pets but here it is different, they love like love him a lot. They actually worry if he is not around, if he has not eaten yet, if he has taken a bath and other stuffs. The whole medical check up thing makes Tango even better off than us who does not have social security yet. =D One thing more, here they don’t eat dogs. You can get yourself locked up in prison if you try to cross these poor innocent barking creatures. I wonder what would happen to our place when a law like this gets approved. I bet there will be famine and Saturday-Beer-Outs shortage at least. FYI, I don’t eat dog so I’m totally cool with any no-dog-eating policy.

In the afternoon, after several hours of sleep, I, my father and uncle went to walk around the neighbourhood. Tango joined us in our afternoon exercise or rather we joined Tango in his afternoon exercise (I’m not quite sure which is true). If the house is beautiful the neighbourhood was just beyond beautiful. It is a very clean, serene, and quiet place to live in. The landscapes were neat and just amazing. They have this jogging path made of stones and the rest is a never ending sea of rich green grasses and pink flowers only partially barred by white fences. The trees even looked like they have been carved or something because they just look perfectly beautiful like those you see in theme parks. Parked in the roadsides were cars (a lot of cars) belonging to families I don’t know. They are everywhere like those toy cars my brother used to have when we were younger. Nevertheless, they still look elegant though they cram in the sidewalks. They seem to fit the overall theme like they were meant to be there. According to my uncle they have friendly neighbours which is true for they smiled when we passed by. I can’t find that extra word to describe the place...I think the overall appearance is reassuring of a better life, it gives you a feeling of security that no matter how hard work is at the end o the day you get to see the view in your house.

Hawaii, what more can I say? I’m lost with things to say. It is very much like the Philippines – the same sunny weather and stuffs. Except that Hawaii is more progressive (it is after all America) in terms of infrastructure, housing, environment, economy and overall appearance. Okay maybe they are not as same as I thought so. Say it like this, Hawaii is like a place you can only find in expensive subdivisions in the Philippines. Houses here seem to have similarities in terms of structure, color and theme no matter who own them. Houses in the Philippines however depend on economic background, the poorer you are the smaller your house is and the richer you are the more your house reach the sky. I don’t know maybe the gap between the privileged and the “not-so-privileged” is not that significant here compared to the Philippines. Here as long as you work you can get all the benefits a working person has. As long as you work you can achieve. It is like social justice is more practiced here. However, I know someday Philippines will get there.

The thing is no matter how beautiful things are, no matter how perfect seems to be, I still feel alone. The place is beautiful but stiff, like a stoic painting in the wall. And every time the wind blows in my face I part of me seem to fade. Everything’s changed and it’s hard to cope up. The train is moving and I’m here running after it, trying to catch the midnight trip before it disappears in the dusk. This is my new life.

Copyright 2011 © JOY CARMEL S. SAHAGUN. Unauthorized use is punishable by law.

Papa Can You Hear Me? By Barbra Streisand

2011-02-09T07:43:00.000-08:00

God - our heavenly Father.
Oh, God - and my father
Who is also in heaven.
May the light
Of this flickering candle
Illuminate the night the way
Your spirit illuminates my soul.

Papa, can you hear me?
Papa, can you see me?
Papa, can you find me in the night?

Papa, are you near me?
Papa, can you hear me?
Papa, can you help me not be frightened?

Looking at the skies
I seem to see a million eyes
Which ones are yours?
Where are you now that yesterday
Has waved goodbye
And closed its doors?
The night is so much darker.
The wind is so much colder
The world I see is so much bigger now that I'm alone.

Papa, please forgive me.
Try to understand me.
Papa, don't you know I had no choice?

Can you hear me praying,
Anything I'm saying,
Even though the night is filled with voices?

I remember ev'rything you taught me
Ev'ry book I've ever read.
Can all the words in all the books
Help me to face what lies ahead?
The trees are so much taller
And I feel so much smaller.
The moon is twice as lonely
And the stars are half as bright.

Papa, how I love you.
Papa, how I need you.
Papa, how I miss you
Kissing me goodnight.

[DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything.

I got this from www.metrolyrics.com.

Click here for the link. ]

I decided to post the lyrics of this song after watching the movie Yentl. The movie was based on the book Yentl the Yeshiva Boy by Isaac Bashevis Singer. It is about a girl named Yentl who, after her father's death, disguised herself as a man in order to to pursue greater knowledge.

A Song Of A Regretful Man

2011-02-05T04:16:00.000-08:00

With birds I sing this lonely song.

The clouds they form faces I long.

Memories rustle crackle bustle,

In the cold night they whisper.

A soft soothing melody,

Slowly caressing gripping melancholy.

Poison laced poetry,

A curse in the mind with no mercy.

Pain, sweet narcotic to the lost.

In the bitter embrace of the night,

You are a friend to trust,

A warm refuge, in an icy sea of fright.

With birds I hum this lonely tune,

An empty parchment of a music never played,

A story of lost, a well of regret told to the moon.

Here to stay forever, a memory forever stained.

Meet My Brother

2011-02-04T21:52:00.000-08:00

Sisterhood of Lost Faces

2011-02-01T03:46:00.000-08:00

Arsty Chalk

2011-01-31T23:02:00.000-08:00


whoever said arts is for the artistic?

I Sit, The World Goes By

2011-01-31T18:00:00.000-08:00

Been sitting here forever,

Thinking will I ever

Get pass myself-I shudder

The thought of it I utter

Makes me quiver.

Oh yes ‘till I falter.

Cars jam, honk, screech and pass

People chatter, they talk so fast.

Their voices seem cacophony at last.

They walk, talk, laugh but alas!

I sit as they all pass.

Clock goes ticking, stilettos clicking,

And I sit sucking my thumb thinking

Yet the world knows no stopping.

Neither do me, I keep sitting

Staring at shadows as the night is creeping.

Tired and bored and sick and afraid with reality

And everything else of middle-aged mediocrity.

With time slipping, haunted eternally

A slow painless death that is actuality.

So I sit, waiting, biding time,

As the world goes ringing its feet in a chime.

Grounds trembling singing in rhyme.

I sit and wonder

As the crowd starts to gather.

Like a marching band they passed me all together.

Birds cease to sing, trees recede from beauty forever,

And I’m left with nothing to ponder.

Thick silence and stones all in a scatter,

Crumpled papers, a sad wind whistle.

Gone is the lively chatter,

And I sit here forever

With myself only to blunder.

Haunted, and still I shudder,

The thought of getting past myself I quiver.

Oh yes ‘till I falter.

Left here, passed, forever passed by

Auguries of Innocence by William Blake

2011-01-31T02:20:00.000-08:00

To see a world in a grain of sand,

And a heaven in a wild flower,

Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,

And eternity in an hour.

A robin redbreast in a cage

Puts all heaven in a rage.

A dove-house fill'd with doves and pigeons

Shudders hell thro' all its regions.

A dog starv'd at his master's gate

Predicts the ruin of the state.

A horse misused upon the road

Calls to heaven for human blood.

Each outcry of the hunted hare

A fibre from the brain does tear.

A skylark wounded in the wing,

A cherubim does cease to sing.

The game-cock clipt and arm'd for fight

Does the rising sun affright.

Every wolf's and lion's howl

Raises from hell a human soul.

The wild deer, wand'ring here and there,

Keeps the human soul from care.

The lamb misus'd breeds public strife,

And yet forgives the butcher's knife.

The bat that flits at close of eve

Has left the brain that won't believe.

The owl that calls upon the night

Speaks the unbeliever's fright.

He who shall hurt the little wren

Shall never be belov'd by men.

He who the ox to wrath has mov'd

Shall never be by woman lov'd.

The wanton boy that kills the fly

Shall feel the spider's enmity.

He who torments the chafer's sprite

Weaves a bower in endless night.

The caterpillar on the leaf

Repeats to thee thy mother's grief.

Kill not the moth nor butterfly,

For the last judgement draweth nigh.

He who shall train the horse to war

Shall never pass the polar bar.

The beggar's dog and widow's cat,

Feed them and thou wilt grow fat.

The gnat that sings his summer's song

Poison gets from slander's tongue.

The poison of the snake and newt

Is the sweat of envy's foot.

The poison of the honey bee

Is the artist's jealousy.

The prince's robes and beggar's rags

Are toadstools on the miser's bags.

A truth that's told with bad intent

Beats all the lies you can invent.

It is right it should be so;

Man was made for joy and woe;

And when this we rightly know,

Thro' the world we safely go.

Joy and woe are woven fine,

A clothing for the soul divine.

Under every grief and pine

Runs a joy with silken twine.

The babe is more than swaddling bands;

Every farmer understands.

Every tear from every eye

Becomes a babe in eternity;

This is caught by females bright,

And return'd to its own delight.

The bleat, the bark, bellow, and roar,

Are waves that beat on heaven's shore.

The babe that weeps the rod beneath

Writes revenge in realms of death.

The beggar's rags, fluttering in air,

Does to rags the heavens tear.

The soldier, arm'd with sword and gun,

Palsied strikes the summer's sun.

The poor man's farthing is worth more

Than all the gold on Afric's shore.

One mite wrung from the lab'rer's hands

Shall buy and sell the miser's lands;

Or, if protected from on high,

Does that whole nation sell and buy.

He who mocks the infant's faith

Shall be mock'd in age and death.

He who shall teach the child to doubt

The rotting grave shall ne'er get out.

He who respects the infant's faith

Triumphs over hell and death.

The child's toys and the old man's reasons

Are the fruits of the two seasons.

The questioner, who sits so sly,

Shall never know how to reply.

He who replies to words of doubt

Doth put the light of knowledge out.

The strongest poison ever known

Came from Caesar's laurel crown.

Nought can deform the human race

Like to the armour's iron brace.

When gold and gems adorn the plow,

To peaceful arts shall envy bow.

A riddle, or the cricket's cry,

Is to doubt a fit reply.

The emmet's inch and eagle's mile

Make lame philosophy to smile.

He who doubts from what he sees

Will ne'er believe, do what you please.

If the sun and moon should doubt,

They'd immediately go out.

To be in a passion you good may do,

But no good if a passion is in you.

The whore and gambler, by the state

Licensed, build that nation's fate.

The harlot's cry from street to street

Shall weave old England's winding-sheet.

The winner's shout, the loser's curse,

Dance before dead England's hearse.

Every night and every morn

Some to misery are born,

Every morn and every night

Some are born to sweet delight.

Some are born to sweet delight,

Some are born to endless night.

We are led to believe a lie

When we see not thro' the eye,

Which was born in a night to perish in a night,

When the soul slept in beams of light.

God appears, and God is light,

To those poor souls who dwell in night;

But does a human form display

To those who dwell in realms of day.

[DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything.

I got this from www.artofeurope.com.

Click here for the link.]

. . . . .

Why am I posting this? This poem has been my favorite poem ever since I came across the word 'poem'...and yet at the same time, it's true meaning has remained a puzzle to me. I've written several reviews about it however it feels like there's something missing, an idea so elusive no one can grasp it but the author himself. It's almost like an insult to harness its meaning into mere words... but then I realized, that is the reason why this poem is so beautiful. There's this soothing rhythm in every stanza that actually leads you like an orchestra playing its heart to hit that climax of the song.

Yes, one can give their own opinion or 'interpretation' about it and claim that it's what William Blake wanted to convey but at the end of the day, only Blake himself knows. I' am not saying that we ought to stop writing reviews about the poem, (I still do actually). What I want to say is that no matter how much time we spend studying a certain literary piece (in this case Blake's poem), we can never ever grasp its very meaning. It is only the poet who holds the true meaning because s/he shared something into that poem that we can never top...that is a part of her/himself- her/his soul.

And we can only keep guessing while the poet on the other hand can keep smiling thinking "you wish you knew". And actually, we may not know it but the fact that we keep chasing some elusive meaning makes every thing about that poem so beautiful.

Abraham Lincoln's Letter To His Son's Teacher

2011-01-28T04:37:00.000-08:00

He will have to learn, I know,

that all men are not just,

all men are not true.

But teach him also that

for every scoundrel there is a hero;

that for every selfish Politician,

there is a dedicated leader…

Teach him for every enemy there is a friend,

Steer him away from envy,

if you can,

teach him the secret of

quiet laughter.

Let him learn early that

the bullies are the easiest to lick…

Teach him, if you can,

the wonder of books…

But also give him quiet time

to ponder the eternal mystery of birds in the sky,

bees in the sun,

and the flowers on a green hillside.

In the school teach him

it is far honourable to fail

than to cheat…

Teach him to have faith

in his own ideas,

even if everyone tells him

they are wrong…

Teach him to be gentle

with gentle people,

and tough with the tough.

Try to give my son

the strength not to follow the crowd

when everyone is getting on the band wagon…

Teach him to listen to all men…

but teach him also to filter

all he hears on a screen of truth,

and take only the good

that comes through.

Teach him if you can,

how to laugh when he is sad…

Teach him there is no shame in tears,

Teach him to scoff at cynics

and to beware of too much sweetness…

Teach him to sell his brawn

and brain to the highest bidders

but never to put a price-tag

on his heart and soul.

Teach him to close his ears

to a howling mob

and to stand and fight

if he thinks he’s right.

Treat him gently,

but do not cuddle him,

because only the test

of fire makes fine steel.

Let him have the courage

to be impatient…

let him have the patience to be brave.

Teach him always

to have sublime faith in himself,

because then he will have

sublime faith in mankind.

This is a big order,

but see what you can do…

He is such a fine little fellow,

my son!

~ Abraham Lincoln

[DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything.

I got this from www.wanderings.net.

Click here for the link.]

. . . .

I first read this beautiful piece when I was in third grade. It was framed in my mother's workplace and I remember copying it to my math scratch pad. It's been one of my favorite literary pieces since then. I still have my math scratch pad because of this though I swear I wanted to get rid of it. Every time I feel lost and confused I read it and somehow I feel relieved and refueled with hope. Abraham Lincoln's Letter To His Son's Teacher gives me a whole new perspective about life. It makes me wanna trust...It regains my faith to humanity....and it never fails every time.

A Tribute To Last Night's Affair

2011-01-12T06:18:00.000-08:00

I wake up lost and frayed,

Gasping for air, clutching my chest,

Fumbling on anything lest

I left a part of myself

From that half dreamt dream.

Half-dazed I turn

To a silent reverie

In an atmosphere of laughter

Of you and me

‘Till it hurts too much that I burn.

I look around, everything’s gone

But the scent of yesterday.

Cigarette, alcohol mixed with perfume and fun,

Envelope between glimpses of memories we played.

Handkerchief sealed with the touch of your cold hands.

Still I look for a crack of light,

Trying to make reason, longing for its tiny warmth

That would end this long night.

Locked me with no window

In this box of sorrow.

Nothing to breathe

But this choking thick deceiving fragrance.

The smell of its lost forgotten days rotten,

Blinded by steel darkness in this trance

I hurt my eyes crying.

Drowned with your empty promises

Lost like kites in a storm.

Intoxicated by your lying kisses,

I let you pour me more

‘Till I can no more.

I swear I trust

We sparkled like light and dust.

That night you stood so close

I can hear your thoughts.

Then when consciousness came and so you went.

I should known

Kids must not dance with fire.

Not play with the fooling chants of desire

‘Cause the flames tricky,

Before you know it catches you and you’re gone.

So I lie here drugged

With the smell of you in my shirt, in my mouth.

You robbed me of last night’s memory

And of tomorrow and eternity.

In my head is a silhouette

Of you so perfect

And yet broken at the same time.

Ashes and Wine by A Fine Frenzy

2011-01-09T07:10:00.000-08:00

Don't know what to do anymore
I've lost the only love worth fighting for
And I'll drown in my tears storming sea
And that would show you, that would make you hurt like me

All the same I don't want mudslinging games
It's just a shame to let you walk away

Is there a chance, a fragment of light
At the end of the tunnel, a reason to fight?
Is there a chance you may change your mind
Or are we ashes and wine?

Don't know if our fate's already sealed
This days are spinning circus on a wheel
And I'm ill with the thought of your kiss
Coffee laced intoxicating on her lips

Shut it out, I've got no claim on you now
Not allowed to wear your freedom down, no

Is there a chance, a fragment of light
At the end of the tunnel, a reason to fight?
Is there a chance you may change your mind
Or are we ashes and wine?

And I'll tear myself away
So if it?s that is what you need, there is nothing left to say but

Is there a chance, a fragment of light
At the end of the tunnel, a reason to fight?
Is there a chance you may change your mind
Or are we ashes and wine?

The day's still ashes and wine
Or are we ashes?

To get lyrics press here
© SONGS OF UNIVERSAL INC; AMPSTAR MUSIC; WB MUSIC CORP.; REVERB MUSIC LTD

If The Child In Me Could Sing A Song...

2011-01-03T19:56:00.000-08:00

Where Are You Now?

Artist: Honor Society

Original Lyrics click here

To my favorite teacher
Who told me never give up
To my 5th grade crush
Who I thought I really loved
To the girls I missed
And the guys we liked
Where are you now?

To my ex-best friends
Don´t know how we grew apart
To my favorite band
And sing-alongs in our car
To the face I see
In my memories
Where are you now?

Where are you now?
Cause I´m thinking of you
You showed me how
How to live like I do
If it wasn´t for you
I would never be who I am

To my first high school crush
I thought for sure was the one
To my last ever crush
Sorry that I never said
To the ones I loved
But didn't show it enough
Where are you now?

Where are you now?
Cause I'm thinking of you
You showed me how,
how to live like I do
If it wasn’t for you
I would never be who I am.

And I'll never see those days again
And things will never be that way again
But that’s just how it goes,
People change,
But I know
I won’t forget you
- guitar solo -

To the ones who cared
And who were there from the start
To the love that left
and took a piece of my heart
To the few who´d swear
I´d never go anywhere
Where are you now?

Where are you now?
Cause I´m thinking of you
You showed me how
How to live like I do
If it wasn´t for you
I would never be who I am

If it wasn´t for you
I would never be who I am
If it wasn´t for you
I´d be nothing
Where are you now?

Why The Old Dreams

2011-01-01T23:51:00.000-08:00

I always go back to our years of innocence

A playground of memories I flow with reminiscence.

Days run fast ; tomorrow taps on the door before you know

Days of naivety, Oh where did they go?

Away we run chasing,

fields of life we end up breaking yet laughing.

Not knowing away we run lost

Deeper into the forest and lines we crossed.

Caught between vines, we look up at the sky

Only to realize the kites we chase are gone.

Long gone we look back now

Tracing back footsteps, catching memories of young laughter.

Lungs filled with freedom

We seem to choke intoxicated.

The open space is daunting,

We take a few steps back thinking

Oh age of innocence, how I yearn

For your sweet touch, your warm security

To come and embrace me one more time.

Where did those days go?

Vanished as if ashes in the wind,

Buried under a half-remembered reverie.

And though wrinkled now and uncertain,

Tried and beaten by the strong winds we once went looking

We long to sleep just so dream can visit.

Of days almost forgotten only a dreamer’s memory can bring,

Sweet little worries, great ambitions and visions.

Wishing we could whisper to ourselves,

“Wait, relax a little”, for the world you ask for is fickle.

Oh Innocence put me to bed now!

Alas! Sing me to sleep, oh hold me tight tonight.

Your music so sweet is a soft hand to my body now weak.

Tell me stories of young boys and girls till my eyes surrender,

What's New With New Year

2011-01-01T05:04:00.000-08:00

Yeah baby, it’s New Year and I’m blogging again! Whoo!

Before I proceed with boring you all with endless words, I would like to say sorry to all those lonely hearts who viewed my half-crazy-but-sometimes-helpful blog in the hope of finding some sort of joy (or okay, any kind of emotion- who knows some might view it just to be pissed off) during the latter part of December only to learn that once again I’m this sleeping writing laggard. (sigh) In my defence though, it’s hard to write (if not impossible) when you’re always dozing off and it was December you guys. =D

Anyways, I hope we all move on with our lives.

So what’s new with New Year?

I don’t know about you guys- it might be new friends, new boyfriends, new girlfriends, new days ahead (I guess that one sounds corny, I mean duh! of course, in fact anytime in your life you are faced with new days ahead...or am I just being literal?), new books, new house (ooh so rich), new school (plausible), new parents (hey, that’s quite impossible) NAME IT. The thing is New Year is not that new anyway. After all the fireworks and noise (and mess) we end up worrying about the same immortal things in life. We are in constant action with perpetually reoccurring stuffs!

So I guess it’s pretty safe to say that New Year is about having a whole new year ahead of you to face the same old stuffs you have in the past. The only difference is that you have a choice to make this year about those same-old-stuffs rule over you again or how about YOU, rule over those same-old-stuffs this time. The essence of the New Year is in its two words itself-new year. You have another year to live your life, another year of abundance, another chance of fulfilling a dream....

...these though come hand in hand with surprises- big nasty surprises which after all mark your year.

In my case, I have no idea what 2011 might bring to me (but then again, who does?)

This is the thing with future, it keeps you guessing and planning and still end up guessing again. It’s this constant pain in the butt that seem to haunt you every night in your sleep saying “whatcha gonna do? whatcha gonna be?” and other freaking “whatcha-gonna” stuffs. The things that will happen tomorrow belong to future itself and the quest of getting just a glance with it is as elusive as knowing the universe itself. Only what you do at this very moment can make a change. And the only connection we have with the future is this earth-old idea of “what you do today makes your tomorrow”. However could it really be?

I remember being this all young and thinking to myself that life is this long series of dominoes. In that sense, every moment of our life we are but acting say in place of this certain domino in the line and that what we do with it affects the others whether we like it or not. And since it is inevitable to react with our environment we end up making something out of this very moment which somehow shapes the next one. That idea fascinated me a lot as a child. However now I wonder, could it be not domino-effect after all? Or could things happen because they just happen? -You know like by some random chance things just happen.

I guess, I’m sticking with the first...though at times I still give the second one a thought. Maybe it is a mix of both. Maybe yes you can certainly be doing whatever you are doing today so that somehow in effect to that you can get this whatever something you wish to get but like we can’t control everything right? We are not God we are just these tiny thinking (destructive if you say) humans and that every now and then we happen to face this seemingly random events in our lives? In fact, that is the very essence of life right?-To live by a moment under things that are not in our control. That’s the beauty of it- we are doomed to face these bumps in our lives and somehow by doing so, we make a life. It’s living no matter what and letting the future take care of itself. Carpe Diem... SEIZE THE DAY.

(whoo...I think I got carried a little bit with that future thing but here’s the point)

I’ am thankful of having lived another year of my life. I’ am breathing the fresh air of 2011 with no regrets nor worries whatsoever and I’m going to live it one day at a time, tasting its sweetness and bitterness with a positive smile, squeezing meanings and making memories moment after moment.

I’m going to live each day like it is New Year, seizing every chance that comes my way. I’m going to make mistakes and I’m going to learn from them. I’m not going to make some dumb list of resolutions just so I can say that I have one, instead I’m going to make them with actions never with words. I’m going to cry and laugh like crazy; to love and be loved; to live my life without setting limitations or deadlines. I’m going to live my life in a pace I made and comfortable with.

More importantly, I’m going to live my life with the littlest care about tomorrow. As long as I live my life right and hurt nobody, I could care less about what the sunrise might bring. After all, the hell with the future.

(and I can say, that is something new about my New Year) =D

Finder Loser by Ophelia Dimalanta

2010-12-08T17:38:00.000-08:00

More than half of my life
I spend searching for lost
objects ( papers, receipts,
old letters, pills and whatever
else) and causes and the rest,
losing and finding, and losing
them again, found or otherwise;
losing what I have in good
measure, finding what
I can’t almost have-
One perpetual lifetime probe,
Forever rummaging through
Bureaus and drawers and pages
Of my life’s past disarray. . .

And so when I finally go
keep vault unlidded for I
shall surely sit up and look
around to pursue this search,
holding on to dear life,
or to dear death, does it matter- – -
they are one in the proper
time but not till then,
I shall go on seeking out
lost faces and faiths in the
cold, collecting, calculating
crowd, sadly aware that later
but an unbreath away
I shall lose them all again;
as I was won’t, losing all
in this final irretrievable
lose of my death time
or perhaps, possibly, yes,
death will be kinder and oh, yes
allow me at last this
flowing final find.

[DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything.

I got this from www.isipipis.wordpress.com.

Click here for the link.]

CROSSROADS

Mag-Isa; Bagong Taon

By the Fireplace

An Almost Confession of a Partially Disturbed Mind

What's Next?

Inescapable

you keep me hanging 'till I'm breathless; you keep me wishing 'till I'm hopeless;you keep me guessing 'till I'm nothing;keep breaking;keep compromising;keep failing; And you keep me going for nothing;

I convince myself to be better.But each day I go worse than ever.The sight in the mirror is even painful.A mocking face, so deceitful-Not just to people or to youBut to the self it has grown .used to lying.Each day I watch her dying

A faceless creature;A nameless feature;I face the mirror only to see this hole-I've been filling up with lies of you.I search for face other than hers;Only to know it's the only face I bear.

We walk in circles and now I'm left nauseous. You always win cause you know I always give in. I just wanna quit, why do you have to always pull me in. And then leave just when I thought you want to love again. This thing is inescapable.

I Remember

Kung si Balagtas ay In-Love at Senti [isang impormal at malayang pagsusulat]

Beautiful Ruins

A McDonald's Crew Poem

Paper Hearts

Landslide by Fleetwood Mac

Credit Blues and Edgar

A Shade of What We Were

To the Apple

I Want You To Know That...

The Night We Killed Each Other

I Want To Write (But Not Shout-Outs)

The Bus Tale

Requiem In The Night

Anything To Get You Through the Night

A Song That Speaks The Words We Couldn't Say

Seasons of Love

An Utter Tale of Melancholy

I'm In Here by Sia

Travelling in Flats: Waikele

Disturbia

Elizabeth

We Are All An Eponine In Our Own Way

Ferdinand

These Four Walls

The People, The Doubts, The Tears

The Dream, The House, The Dog, The Neighbourhood, The New Life

Papa Can You Hear Me? By Barbra Streisand

A Song Of A Regretful Man

Meet My Brother

Sisterhood of Lost Faces

Arsty Chalk

I Sit, The World Goes By

Auguries of Innocence by William Blake

Abraham Lincoln's Letter To His Son's Teacher

A Tribute To Last Night's Affair

Ashes and Wine by A Fine Frenzy

If The Child In Me Could Sing A Song...

Why The Old Dreams

What's New With New Year

Finder Loser by Ophelia Dimalanta

you keep me hanging 'till I'm breathless; you keep me wishing 'till I'm hopeless;
you keep me guessing 'till I'm nothing;keep breaking;
keep compromising;
keep failing;
And you keep me going for nothing;

I convince myself to be better.
But each day I go worse than ever.
The sight in the mirror is even painful.
A mocking face, so deceitful-
Not just to people or to you
But to the self it has grown .used to lying.
Each day I watch her dying

A faceless creature;
A nameless feature;
I face the mirror only to see this hole-
I've been filling up with lies of you.
I search for face other than hers;
Only to know it's the only face I bear.