Big Sad

The author whose tales of adolescent angst and family dysnfunction that captured generations died last Wednesday, at 91. I remember vividly how at a very young age of 8, I grieved and pictured young Holden Caufield's quest to outrun the world in J.D Salinger's book, "The Catcher in the Rye."

Farewell, my favorite author. Someday, I'll bump into you and discuss how phony the world can become... Rest in peace.

Photo taken from: http://www-tc.pbs.org/wnet/americannovel/timeline/images/salinger_pic.jpg

Inked Again!

They say I am the most self - obsssessed individual 0n the face of the planet. Truth be told, I am more than that. I am, in fact, a freak who thrives in chaos and self - inflicted pain. So your lola got another tattoo last night. The wheezing of the tatt machine seemed like music to my ears, (twas so melodious) and the pain the needle caused my listless pulp was immeasurable but yes, very rewarding. Hehe.

Where it all began - stencil and outlining:

And it ended looking like this:

Anyone of you interested in making that skin bleed and inked, holler at me. My artist is good and he doesnt charge much. :)

Where?

Love is. I don’t know, That seems to be the best definition I could make off when somebody dumped me. Dumped? What a very straightforward word, maybe that was all there is when a lover brings it straight to your heart; that things are not working anymore and you should forget me, or say, stop this relationship. ‘Love is’ because you can’t recall that such feeling exists in a moment when right here, right now, You just can’t say farewell to sadness. But you have to. It is the ability of inability. It’s like singing goodbye yesterday…. (with fingers crossed stubbornly, ha!). Say, if a lover brings it straight to your heart…wait, Where is the heart anyway? I believe you can locate that by not pointing at your head too often and carefully pointing at your chest with denial. I’m not really sure.

I care not dwell on the details, but all you people probably know how it feels when the thing called love leaves you when you got too much to give on the line. I have loved. I would like to believe I gave something more than myself. I know it’s a line you hear much from movies, but hey, they come to life sometimes and I’m the leading actor. It is true that a scorned lover comes into different phases of recovery. Most of us can relate to this because we all are human, generic, unique, and relative.

Who amongst you disagree, please throw a boulder at me! ---Ouch, oh, let’s add uniquely relative to that.

I myself sought refuge in my strength, in books, in everything the world has to offer. I invented ways of rationalizing what happened to me. Aside from my mentor-friend who showed me the wonderfully bitter world of existentialism, I met new friends on my way to the so-called recovery. Kafka, Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, Kundera, Neruda, blah blah…they were there. I met them; they showed me how ‘scientifically romantic’ literature was when seen from a gloomy point of view. It was all revealing, and at the same time, excruciating. They taught me well, even Karen Kunawicz has something to say about a broken heart: only you can hear it. Kahlil Gibran on the other hand preached, ‘Love is self-chosen’, and I couldn’t stop myself from approving violently. ‘The body makes a promise when you make love’ says that movie Vanilla Sky, but sometimes, we have to break some. Funny, but I was happy to rediscover these things that sounded stale when I was in my pleased moments. I’m happy but I wasn’t smiling, I thought I had it all under control and suddenly Eros kicked me in the butt for not listening well.

See, I’ve known these friends, and they all exist in my head that I can readily point at and testify that we have come to an intellectual conclusion. But that was me talking; no one among them, not even my dearest Sartre assured me that an Einstein on love could bring you to the promise land of healing. You can only rationalize too much but in the end, it is your inevitable call. I had no choice, or I did have the choice to be with my real friends. I spent the rest of my time going out, like what we all do. One has to come out from the broken shell and hope to get even. Call that depression, better defined as not forgetting you’re sad. But I have to forget, rocking a chair won’t bring me anywhere. This may be patronizing but I have come to a point of realization to tell this. I somehow managed to get up that chair. Nobody said it was easy.

I ask you one question:

What do you call that time in the middle of the night when all your hopes are depleted, your body is wasted from too much booze, when you have puked everything aside from your soul, when everything has been said and fearlessly done, and you just want to stop thinking?

If you’ll ask me, I call that Tomorrow. When you wake up the following day, it’s something different. It can be more, or likely less painful, but at least different. That’s one inch closer to the promise land I was talking about.

Adios.

Now, where is the heart? You got a lot of pointing to do.

Mocking the Sun

A friend once said, "There’s something about powder blue waters and talcum sands that makes one miss kindred spirits. My friend Bill, is having a grand time in Thailand. I’m here in Cebu, trying to enjoy workign everyday – to soak my weary head in hopeless contemplation. Ah, but there’s a consolation! I get to miss a kindred spirit minus the refreshing blue and briny bottom! How crafty is that?

If only you were here, dear confidant... Maybe you could again, give me a piece of your much needed psychoanalyses. Alas, I would have to fathom this disturbing thought all by myself.

My palate for friendship is beginning to sour with every turning of the tide. Why does everything have to get so complicated? Here you go, basking in quiet conversations, little quips and quirks; and then someone has to blow it just because he thinks friendships offer too narrow possibilities. This is what you get from someone you’ve confided to, Someone you’re supposed to have trusted your life-story, heartaches and secret admiration. Some friendship!

You don’t have the right to tell me what can make me happy! Do I look like I’m in so much need of caring that you have to shove it in front of me, that you have to ask me the whys all the time? I don't expect everyone to understand nor be happy for me. Just don't add salt to the wound. I’m tired of this. Get a life! I’m not the one you’re looking for – the next girl available.

Don’t ever assume when your presumptions are wrong in the first place. You never saw me smile when there was nothing to smile about so stop bombarding me with things I don’t need!

A Note To Self!

Dear Self,

Since when have you learned not to really sleep at all?

How long will you give in to the demands of that freakin job and come to the office despite the fact that it's your rest day?

How will you find time to relax and manage to leave the world and it's cruelties when all you do is work?

Girl, you seriously need rest!Go get some, will you?

You make me worry.

Sinulog!

My head was starting to swirl from all the booze I drank. The blinking lights and cigarette smoke caused my face to cringe and my eyes to burn. The Sinulog night is the best here in Cebu.You get to meet different kinds of people. Cute guys with attitude; weirdos and their mohawks; human pin cushions and their pierced bodies; and if you’re lucky, you can even get a glimpse of hot celebrities in the party scene. Yes, people are always like that during Sinulog. Of course it depends on whether you were able to fold a Ninoy Aquino inside the hidden pocket of your wallet to keep from spending it. You see a lot of teenagers yanking their soul out of their bodies. Corporate people used to the fast - paced life, settle for a momentary pleasure with friends on a night of booze revelry. They consider this as treating themselves after a long day of mind-frying. Party time may last from midnight to the crack of dawn. What the heck, this only happens once every year - people gather altogether to celebrate to one beat. But for sure, a night in Sinulog is never at a loss for the unexpected.

I recall one time, I was dancing my stuff in one bar I frequently go to, two Sinulogs ago. I almost thought that I’d go home without a story to tell. Just then, two gays started shouting and raving to the music. One climbed on top of a seat and the other stood in front, below the former. They started extending their hands and swaying to opposite directions, like spiders playing patintero with their prey. “Play our music!”, they shrieked, like harpies, their tongues flailing out their mouths; almost as if trying to taste the raw atmosphere of smoke, booze, and sweat. I check the arena, turning three hundred sixty degrees, with an almost infinite slowness. Every face I see is different. Every movement, saturated with life. Every soul inside the night coven, bursting with a story to share.

Take "Silingan", for example. I call her that because she once lived a block from my place and we were classmates in two subjects when I was still in school. I don’t really know her to the core, but I see her every time I go to Mango during Sinulog; almost as if she lived here. This was her kingdom and she was queen every night she danced. The ledge was her throne; every gyrate of her hips, a commandment; and every other person inside the dark den, her subject. Some say she was no longer studying. I then come into deep contemplation. Did her parents know this? I swiftly erase the thought from my mind. This should not be part of my reverie.

I sway around, catching a nanosecond-smile from M. This, on the other hand, was a guy who was there, not to drown his burden in ale, but to scope the place, looking for his latest victim; like the vampire, Lestat. For those who are not familiar with Anne Rice’s most famous character, the latter is a blood-sucking romeo who prefers victims who deserve to be victims. The more dirt, the better. Pero syempre, mas nindot kung palaban! That was how M liked it.

And there's this gwapo na waiter I met, in one of my bar adventures. Quiet, but friendly, patience was already evident, the second I saw the sweat from his brow. He was working his way to college. Eskwela sa buntag, trabaho sa gabii. Kinda’ like makes you feel all guilty inside. But then, all these faces form a part of me that make up what we coin as, human. I am "Silingan", when I try to cover my melancholy with a life evident with happiness. I am M, when I try to feel good about myself by toiling with the emotions of those I consider my inferiors. I am "waiter", when I try to make up for what life cannot readily offer me. I am each of these three and a million others. But most of all, I am Sinulog --- full of life; bleak sometimes, but always full of hope.

I felt my head wanting to explode; thoughts turning redundant. I had too much to drink. It’s time to head home.

Anjo

He always had this wonderful smile on his face. He never misses class and I can sense that he was always determined to pass the exams with flying colors. He was the type of kid who was born with a silver platter on his table but no, he never showed or brushed of arrogance. The owner of Cebu Beach Club, he remained to be that down to earth kid you can always "bully" around. He surprised me when he introduced himself as a registered nurse. He said he never wanted to practice his proffession in the first place. He held the world on the palm of his hands yet he remained to be that sweet and caring kid among others.

One day, he got too exhausted with work and decided to just quit. I respected his decision and said that he had to find his niche in this life - even outside our workplace; away from the 19 others who have grown to love and adored his company and presence. So why am I writing about him? He shot me one sweet message that touched me big time. It read:

"Ann, I just want to thank you for everything and for being one of the best teachers I've met. Friends gihapon ta ha? I'm deciding to resign and look for a day time job. You've been really great and hope you don't change. Maka influence jud ka in the way you teach."

The message just got me smiling. :) You see, I may know more about the product that I'm teaching but these people surely taught me so many things that'll give me so much the advantage in the world to come.

To you dear, Anjo, continue hitching your wagons to the stars, in search for greater heights. Someday, we'll cross each other's path and talk as usual over beer and life's tiny trinkets in wonder.

Holidays '09

So how did your lola spent the holidays? Well, Christmas was celebrated in Moalboal while I welcomed the New Year with a bang a'traipsing Cebu and it's majestic corners (okay, that's exaggeration!) Snippets of the maddening events are below:

Took a dip in the pristine waters of Moalboal with men. Yes, I was swimming with men!

Learned how to skimboard to say the least (okay, I just coerced some native to let me borrow the board for posterity purposes =)

Slept with a man and a not so man in a tent

doodled Merry Christmas on the shore and posed with again - MEN!

basked in the mid day sun...

laughter and random topics with one of my bestfriends, Kem!

grinned like a mad woman with friends...

ransacked yet again another bestfriend's house (thanks Jake!) at 2am for some post Medya Noche.. (yum...yum..)

New Year's Day swimming at Kem's place... :)

What about you guys? What did you do when hell break loose on Christmas and New Year? I bet you enjoyed it as much as I did. =)

Random Wordplay

If you hate me, then hate me still; because the feeling is mutual!

Malice is always a good outlet for envy, anyway. :)

Night in Purgatory

I watched the light crawl up towards the shadows in my room, lending a sinister countenance to the trees outside the windows. The air was filtered with dust and grime exhausted by the cars that went right past the house. The humid atmosphere was filled with the hustle and bustle of people rushing home after a tiring day.

Despite the noise, I can only feel an acute sense of loneliness.

I could not fathom such longing for things to be different from the way they are. The dream to reach for what I always wanted escapes me time and again. I try to deny that I merely want and do not feel the aching need. But I am more deceptive with myself than with others. I immerse myself in chiaroscuros because I have never known any other way to relieve the silence haunting my soul.

He remains to be the reason for my dementia.

I see the expressionless eyes everyday in my mind. I dared to tread the footsteps that those eyes left behind. It’s a fruitless endeavor for our souls will never meet halfway. Though we reached a different kind of nirvana, a physical exorcism of what should not be, our shadows are too far apart to ever follow the same path, to ever share the same space and to ever share the same joys and pains. And knowing this, I die a little each and every day.

But still I stayed and waited for the crowd to fall silent, for them to stop the chaos wreaking havoc between us, for him to see through the glass wall separating us. I waited for the impossible. For the soul I sought will never find mine. He will never know that I lived under the shelter of shadows just like him, hiding the truth from the rest of the world. Those seemingly vacant eyes will never find out how much I understood his belief that colors are non-existent, just a void of gray shades. He will never realize that I saw colors only through him, every hue mocking me with its clarity and hitting me with a sharp emptiness because I have lost something that never found me.

He will never know that I made him the world.

Look what I got.... (part1)

So this is indeed the season of giving.. And guess what? I got these for Christmas. Staring off with a box of chocolates straight from Singapore from my balikabayan High School batchmate, Rey Talam. :) (big happy!!!)

A box of lollipops from Anjo. And no, they are not the ordinary pops. Because the stick lights when bended. And boy, was I thrilled knowing I have 20 pieces them to nibble while looking happily at it's glow. (feels like a kid, I swear!)

And who would forget this? 2 boxes of chocolate cake that melts in your mouth from Desiree.. Weeee... my happiness cannot be contained!

To every one who gave me wonderful gifts and to those who greeted me a merry Christmas, I send you all t he love in the world!

What about you guys? What did you get?

A Wrinkled Leaf

The sheets of empty canvas lay sprawled on the floor. She was not compelled to do anything as her thoughts were turned from bereavement to exhaustion. I fell for him. I loathe him. My life is misery. She had no more illusions. She had lost them in her travels. How must I demote myself to the tepid position of friends? How could I possibly drown myself in oblivion? Questions. They just transcend in the wind. Questions without answers. She cannot endure it, and so she flees, like a man bolting from his bed to escape nightmare. Finally she halts, somewhat calmed though hardly at peace, on a rise beyond the sanity she thought she ruled. Here, almost like a man in search for salvation, she gazes outside the glass house. How has it come to this? The answers swim up from the depths of her mind, like shimmering scenes painted on shards of glass: she was a wild child with moments of bitterness. Happiness had not come to her early in life. A thousand years of it would not have made her blasé. Her palate for all the joys of sense and care was unspoiled. Nothing would have been wasted on her. A noble hunger, long and unsatisfied met at last its proper food, and almost instantly the food was snatched away. Fate ( or whatever it is ) delights to produce a great capacity and then frustrate it. Now, she sits in her bedchamber, slowly scanning from one corner of the room to another, from the sea of her sanity to the shadowy jumble broken by the flicker of unclean light which has become her “destiny”. I fell for him. I loathe him. My life is misery. Need I say more?

While the world turns...

...i'm stuck in the office with 18 trainees while over 60 people from my High School batch are having the time of their lives at a lovely resort somewhere in the heart of Bohol where vowels rise in tongues like yeast!

Tell me, why on heavens do I have work on a freakin Saturday evening? :(

Enjoy the Reunion, Trailblazers! Yes, I'm gonna wallow in self - pity 'till the next reunion! *sigh*

P.S
Van Phillip Baton, if you are reading this, I implore all the gods that you keep your mouth shut else you'll deny the day you were freakin born! Believe me, thinking about "it" feels like Atlas bearing the whole world on his shoulders. I kid you not!

I just wanna say...

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all!!!

May you're holidays be filled with joy, laughter, food and another year - while not perfect, full of hope and warmth. :)

Random Sunday

My ears have been bombarded by songs from Dishwalla all day. Boredom was my new friend and so all I could do was listen to music and reminisce. No sleep for this fair maiden. Every moving color, every intricate detail seemed to move me with renewed beauty. "I'm alive again," I secretly uttered. Content was in the air. And so, I flew. And I remember asking my dear readers, "Why do we cry"? During my time of distraught, I asked the fleeting question. Waking moments during ungodly hours of the night, full of reveries -- fear, melancholy and then misery. I thought of forgetting. I thought of digging up a hole and burying the disparity that left this soul scarred and calloused like a weary wench. But despair is never without glee when there is acceptance. And so I taught myself to accept. Numbness at first but everything started to fall into place after much hardship.

At the moment, let me re-iterate the question. What makes us smile? When we smile, do we not fear that it will only last for a few milliseconds before it disappears into oblivion, forgotten, and never mentioned again? Do we smile because it's for free, knowing that everything in this world costs something? I'm such a fool. I'm such a fool. In this little world, there will always be rich and poor. Rich in gifts. Poor in gifts. Rich in love. Poor in love. Always something to envy our neighbors about. Always something there to appropriate. And it's never enough. Sigh! Maybe this is not for me. Maybe love is not for me. I'm too afraid. I know that I should not torment myself with such cruel contemplations. But this is me. This is human.

It's going to be Christmas real soon but it seems like it is going to just an ordinary day for me again... *sigh* well, at least I have another year to look forward to!

* Hah! I started sketching again...