The Freedom to Give Up

Note: Yesterday, I got inked by my very talented childhood friend from waaaaaay back then at Octopushink Tattoo Studio and got asked by a lot of people (even the legendary tattoo artist himself, Tatay Nero) what my tatt means to me. Thus, I came up with this entry. :)

Next to passion, freedom is my favorite word. I guess that's because if there is something constant in my life, it's my search for freedom.

ελευθερία (eleptheria) is the "name" of my new tattoo.
After several years of thinking and rethinking of the 
perfect design, my Eleptheria was born.

While I was still studying, I yearned for the freedom to make my own choices because, as a very good friend (not so kindly) pointed out, I had very limited choices back then. I felt shackled because I thought that I was held prisoner by my age and lack of job experience. I wanted to start earning my own money way before I turned 18. However, I had very limited imagination back then so I ended up waiting for our theater company's next show and/or the next surprising moment my guardians would hand me my allowance. When I started working, I craved freedom from all the added responsibilities I inherited from my "very responsible" parents. I wanted to feel young and wild, and happy-go-lucky, like most of my friends. But I knew (and still know) that I can only be like them to a certain extent. I did not really deny myself the luxury of spending my money for personal stuff, yes, but I have always thought of how it felt like to have fun without thinking of the bills one has to pay at the end of the month.

A few years have passed since then. Now, I long for the freedom to discover who I really am and who I want to be without compromising any of the duties I need and want to do. At last, I have realized that I am left with no choice but to accept the fact that I am responsible for the most unlikely things. To some, this might sound like the complete opposite of what I have yearned for during my younger years (from limited to no choices, from wanting to be free from my duties to embracing them) and maybe it is. It's pleasantly surprising to know that I have reconciled to this piece of truth and I feel...okay. Perhaps a bit resigned, but peacefully so. 

Yes, I am proud to say that I am slowly, finally stopping the search for the freedom I want. Instead, I am branding my own freedom. I am giving up.

I am giving up on controlling things that are beyond me and my power. As cliche as this sounds, life is filled with circumstances we cannot avoid. There are moments that we think we have it covered...and then everything spirals downward. We exert so much effort to patch things up that we tend to forget two things: 1. things like these are not our fault and 2. they're not meant to be fixed. Because of this, we end up taking for granted the things we can fix, the things we can do something about, and then you realize that, when they said that life is about the decisions you make, they were talking about you deciding on the ones you fix, the one you keep, the one you exert effort on. I think about the serenity prayer and I believe I'm right on track: I have given up the search for freedom for the search of serenity, courage and wisdom.

I am giving up on seeking the truth from others. Face it, people lie. I lie. I even lie to myself. How can you look for something in others that you cannot find in yourself? Honestly (harhar), I think this looking-for-the-truth thing I had going for months tops my list of not-so-smart moves in life. It's not a matter of trusting people but of being smart enough to know that, sometimes, people can be cruel and not really care about you. On the other hand, this is also a matter of believing that the people that you trust and love won't lie to you just to hurt you. And that you should do the same.

I am giving up on things that are not even mine in the first place. Sometimes, fate lends us small doses of inspiration that can help make the toils and crosses we bear lighter even just for a while: conversations that only the two of you can hear, an umbrella shared under the rain, jokes only you two can understand, a seemingly loving glimmer of admiration in his eyes. Yet, inasmuch as you'd like to keep this treasure to yourself, it feels a bit off. It's like using somebody's very expensive mobile phone for a long time: you feel good and confident, knowing that you have something so valuable in your hands, but you can't help but feel awkward, too, because you know that the phone's not yours to keep, no matter how good it makes you feel. They say you can't let go of something you don't have. That's true. But aren't you tired of rationalizing, telling yourself reasons why you should still wait and pine and sigh and sob and wallow in the pain you want and don't want at the same time? Acknowledge that there is something you have to let go of: the part of yourself who is foolishly holding on. Stand up, accept the truth and make the most of your life from this point on.

It's funny how, once it starts, all things fall into their proper places. I have never thought that, by solving your biggest issue in life (yes, that one about you, not the one about your family or your friends or your love life or work or money), you end up fixing everything. Right now, my life feels like a domino: one problem down after the other. And all I had to do is to give up the freedom I have sought but could never have for things that I have always had and ignored. :)

***

P.S. Pictures from the tatt session:








From the stencil on my skin (lower left) to the finished product (upper left and right) :)

With my childhood friend and ultimate tattoo idol, the jinxed cupcake (eh?), Regine. :D
(I can't believe I still got to smile like that after the session, though. Hahaha!)

Isn't it peculiar

Isn't it quite peculiar how you can remember other people's faces but not their names?
How you recognize that glint in his eye and that crooked smile on his face
but not how you once uttered his name
and asked him questions that caught your interest sometime ago?

Isn't it peculiar how sometimes it's the other way around?
How you vaguely remember hearing this unlikely confidant spill his deepest darkest secrets
but not how tears spilled from his sad, sad eyes
and trickled down from his cheek to yours?

Peculiar, isn't it, how there are moments that you'd rather forget but you can't.
How you want to bear in mind and never forget the lesson you just had to learn the hard way
but not how you felt while you threw wisdom and control out of the window, stayed in his arms,
moaned, gave, received, laughed, cried
and shook yourself to the core?

Peculiar, isn't it, how there are things that are done even before they have begun.
How you find yourself tearing down that jack-in-the-box you created with your impulsive foolishness
but not rebuilding the fort you have painstakingly erected
put up, took care of, sacrificed for, created, polished
and perfected that even you can't stand its perfection?

Peculiar how you want one thing and need another.
Peculiar how a seed so little and ignored can grow so strong.
Peculiar how it can be so alive!

Isn't it?

Paradosso

You...

...want to but you don't.

...have to but you won't.

....dream for stars yet kiss the ground.

Tell me, haven't you been around?

...show confidence but is so insecure.

...have a good heart but your thoughts are impure. 

...want to use yet end up abused.

Hey, how did you get here, all so confused?

...hate hellos but loathe good-byes.

...crave for the truth but are comforted by lies.

...desire to kill yet you strive to live.

Why, you don't really know what to believe!

...can't even find the words to write your song

...know that he's been right all along.

...admit it, with a face, tired and gaunt:

Yes, you really don't know what you want.

quod contra opinionem omnium est.

Here's the Deal

Once again, I am talking about something that I apparently have an excess of: feelings. Honestly, if feelings were money, I'd be the richest gal in town.

More often than not, our emotions get the best of us.

They always say that there's a reason why the head is placed above the heart, and not the other way around. I always thought that this was coincidental, the believer of dreams and the hopeless romantic that I am. I kept on thinking Oh, c'mon. If I were supposed to use my head most of the time, if not always, then, why is it that my heart is in the center of...well, everything? 

Lately, though, I've been thinking this over and, now, I'm not exactly sure. I have always been the "follow your heart's desire" type of girl but, time and again, I've been slapped with concrete evidence that this does not work for most people. Especially if your heart is filled with feelings so fleeting...so fleeting, you can almost feel them slip through your fingers.

Yes, sometimes, our emotions get the best of us. The intensity of our feelings, of our emotions, can be too much for our little hearts to hold. Because of this, we often end up feeling too overwhelmed and we end up making bad decisions. And bad choices often lead to bad consequences.

I always thought that when you feel something -- and when it feels like it's something really special -- you should act on it. Now that I'm older (and perhaps a bit smarter), I've realized that emotions, especially very intense ones, should be left alone until they have either subsided or have grown to something even more spectacularly overwhelming. I think I now have a better idea on the concept of "the real thing"...and it's not something that manifests once in a while just because you're lonely, tired, angry, (insert other negative/positive/whatever emotions here).

"In ten years time, will these still matter?" I now find myself asking this question over and over again when I try to deal with (yup, you guessed it right) these pangs, flutters and "whatnots" I feel. Dealing with certain issues now is easier because, while I definitely still don't know what will happen next, I know what and who I want to see when I look back a few years from now. I want to smile and say that, yes, I handled that pretty well, didn't I? It sort of goes against my philosophy and my quite impulsive nature but so what? I have gotten tired of the drama around me (most of which I have admittedly created, by the way). I now strive to aim to see the simplest things, accept these things and let life be. I can see no other way to survive this world and still be happy at the same time.

Sometimes, I still doubt the decision to let go of my childlike (childish?) view of things. Sifting through people and things in life also have its downsides, like letting go of things you are used to, of people you still want, of feelings you still feel. But you can't have it all. When you go shopping, you have to choose the best pair of shoes that will fit you and your wardrobe because you're no Bill Gates: you can't afford it all. Right now, the best thing is the real thing -- not only now, but in two, five or even ten years time.

I understand that the only real things are facts. I guess what I'm trying to say is that decisions shouldn't always be 100% heart but a compromise of both. I like the idea of taking into consideration what is completely true and what is true to you. Like, how some people can screw up and get you so mad but you still forgive them. You give them a part of your time, of your effort, of yourself, because they are still part of you. No, you don't give them your full trust and attention; you're past that, you're not that naive. It is eternally true that they are your family, your friends but it is also true that they have hurt you and are not doing anything to prove that they are worthy of your trust. So, you don't give everything you have. Instead, you give them what they deserve.

And I think, by doing so, you end up deciding what you deserve as well.

______'s block

So you stare at that cursor
that continuously blinks.
Blink. Blink.
Blink.
Blink.

Your eyes blink with it in unison.
Or maybe your brain, too,
as it tries to think.
But comes up with nothing.

Your fists unclench as well.
And maybe your fingers twitch
as they grasp for the words you want to say.
But frustratingly ends up with nothing.

Your feet tap to the beat.
Or they might go against it
as you try to digest what that song means.
But you hear nothing.

Funny, isn't it, how
while your legs shake to the beat (or not)
and your digits remain uncooperative
and your mind.
Is.
Blank,

as the screen in front of you,

Your heart is so full and heavy, you can
Actually just bleed and bleed and bleed 
All over your page
Or your blog-slash-account
Or hers, or his, or theirs
And let them know everything
you've masked and protected and saved for nobody
but yourself.


So you stare at that corner
as you continuously blink.
Blink. Blink.
Blink.
Blink.

But don't let the first one fall.

Amor Fati

"What fates impose, that men must needs abide; It boots not to resist both wind and tide."

-William Shakespeare

“Yet it would be your duty to bear it, if you could not avoid it: it is weak and silly to say you cannot bear what it is your fate to be required to bear.” 

― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

How to Cure a Hangover

People do crazy things when they're in love - Meg, "Hercules" (1997)

People do crazy things when they're drunk. - Me, and everyone else

Once you wake up, get over the initial shock that you're alone. The party's over. Did you really expect them to watch you sleep? They have their own lives to live, their own homes to go home to, their own problems to solve. Selfish bitch.

Grab a glass of water and drink. Never mind that it still tastes a bit like your vomit. Never mind that you don't feel like drinking anything for, perhaps, the next couple of hours (or days). Drink until the last drop. Drink it the way you drank all those tequila shots last night.

Don't try to remember what happened, how it happened and who it happened with. And -- God forbid -- don't even think of trying to remember why it happened. So you danced on a table/laughed out loud/confessed your feelings/held his or her hand/kissed him or her/had sex with him or her/called him or her or them names/cried/vomited/drunk dialed someone/[insert other embarrassing things people typically do when they're drunk]. You were drunk. There's no other explanation. Don't try to rationalize; that'll make things even more embarrassing. You already have a headache so stop trying to make it worse.

Ignore. Ignore that tingling feeling all over your body. Ignore the faint taste of the alcohol on your lips. What's the use of reliving moments long gone? They were fun once, yes, but do you really want to continuously live in the past? You already feel disoriented, confused. Don't make it worse.

Stop asking where time went. Time passes, and quickly. You might not remember anything right now but good things happened, too. If you just really try to see beyond the fact that you were drunk, you'd know. Don't try to recall all the details from the past. You're already in pain. Don't. Make. It. Worse.

Don't blame yourself. It's perfectly normal to get drunk. Some people just handle alcohol better than others. And even those people fail once in a while. Stop muttering "never again" to yourself. You've said that a dozen times before. You can't help it; give it time and you'd probably be begging for more. Perhaps another poison though: a vodka-sprite or a rum coke, a margarita or a long island iced tea. Or you can always have a bottle of good ol' fashioned beer. Hey, why not? It's cheap and goes well with anything. You can use a friendly drink once in a while, you know. Something that your friends'd like as well.

Yes, maybe you just need to choose a better drink next time. Who knows, maybe you can avoid feeling this way if you choose the right stuff next time.

Sleep. Don't try to forget. Yes, I know I said don't try to remember. Just...let it be. Don't think...well, at least not for the next few hours. Be comfortable with the idea that shit happens. This ain't the first time. It definitely won't be the last.

Yes, sleep. Sleep until such the time that you can stand up, walk straight, and go to the bathroom to take a shower and not to throw up. Sleep until you feel less like a zombie and more of a real, live person. Sleep until you don't feel that throbbing pain anymore. Sleep until it doesn't hurt at all.

Fight the urge to smoke. You don't remember where you put your cigarettes, anyway.

Conditionals

If I stop wishing, this ends.

If I stop talking to you, you probably won't care.
If I were her, I wouldn't be as sad.
But, if I had stopped dreaming, I would've lost the dream
                                                                  the wish
                                                                  the prayer I fervently ask for
                                                                                                         but I didn't think
                                                                                                                         or stop
                                                                                                                         or pause.
If only I had stopped waiting, I wouldn't be here thinking of you
I'd be without you.

If I stopped, you wouldn't have noticed anyway.

***

If I say I'm ready, nothing changes.

If I say I'm ready, you probably won't believe me.

If I were her, I wouldn't be as lost.

Yes, if I had been ready, I would've told you
                                                         and her
                                                         and him
                                                         and everyone else in the world
                                                                                            but I'm not brave
                                                                                                             or honest
                                                                                                             or even sure.
If only I had been more sure, I wouldn't be here just thinking of you
I'd be with you.

If I were ready, you wouldn't have noticed anyway.

**

If I go fight for you, everything transforms.

If I go fight for you, you probably won't let me win.

If I were her, I wouldn't be as mad.

And, if I had gone and faced the music, I would've held your hand

                                                                               your face

                                                                               your gaze

                                                                               your heart with such tenderness

                                                                                                               but I didn't think

                                                                                                                       was not sure

                                                                                                                       pretended.

Pretended.

I didn't want you.

If only I had gone and braved the waters, I wouldn't be here just thinking of you

You'd be thinking of me too.

If I did fight for you, would you have even noticed?

Would you have even believed?

Would you have even cared?

*

Would I have ever won?

For if I weren't such a fool, I would've realized that my heart truly belongs to you.

IDA Day!

Today marks Ida's first day in our company. Of course, we weren't as close back then but it doesn't really matter. In my calendar, today is IDA (Ida Deserves Appreciation) Day! To show my love to the REAL evil twin, here's a poem*:

Whoever thought that we'd be this close?

Two unlikely friends, more likely to be foes!

Let's shout and celebrate; let us all cheer

For it has been a year, Idapot, my dear!

Yes, it has been a year since your bag from Davao

Made me smile and coo and go "Oh, wow!"

And it has been a year since I gave you cake

To bribe you "for a trivia point's sake."

Christmas came and Christmas passed,

Who'd ever thought our friendship would last?

We met new people and the gang grew bigger

Yet our bond grew stronger, stronger and stronger.

And, ever since, you have always been there

To remind me of my importance, to show that you care.

You were there during my best and my worst days

To make me feel special in so many ways.

Ha, who'd ever think we'd be as close as we are now

And stomach each other's differences somehow:

How cute you can giggle when I cackle like a witch,

How outgoing I can be when pleasantries you ditch?

Sometimes I really wonder how this works

Our friendship, I mean, with all our contrastive quirks.

Though one thing is for sure, I think:

We can talk for days, even eras, 'til we stink!

So I wrote this to say that I'm really happy

That I'm your friend, though you can be, er, bitchy.

And, for the record, what you keep on saying is true:

Great things happen to people who listen to you.

Yes, it has been a year, Idapot, my dear,

And everything has been far from sere.

But I know I can go through all things thick and thin

As long as I have the love of my twin. :)

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, IDAPOT!

I am so glad you're in my life! :)

(Sounds just a tad bit wrong...LOL #PervinizedMind)

*I claim poetic license so this poem is error-free. I don't even know if "claim" is the right word to use in my previous sentence. Sorry, Ida. We both know we lack sleep today/tonight.

Pretending and/or Acting

When I was younger, I didn't like that word. Pretending, I mean. To me, it sounded so...superficial. Or maybe because I've always associated pretending with the more common Filipino term: plastik. Mapagpanggap. Mapagkunuwa. I've always preferred the word acting. Perhaps it's my theater background. For me, it sounded more...professional. And, no, I didn't think I was rationalizing or calling one thing another. I mean, my personal definition of acting doesn't even have the word pretending in it. (Acting is being another person for a certain period of time, i.e., while you are onstage. It is an internalization of somebody completely different or completely similar to your own personality. FYI.)

After years and years and years of believing this, it suddenly struck me to check the dictionary. Just out of curiosity. I wanted to find out how the world officially sees the word I so glorified and called "better" than some other word. Here's what I found out:

Oh, my whole childhood/teenage life was a lie.

It's funny but, as I think more and more about it, I realized that I've been fooling nobody but myself. I still think that my definition is correct but only in certain situations. It can't be something applied to everyday life. In the end, I realized that acting can be pretending to be somebody you're not. And that's really dangerous. It's even more dangerous than pretending because, when you pretend, you know at the back of your mind that it's not true. It's imaginary, unreal. When you act, you have to internalize and, to Pareng Merriam and Pareng Webster:

To make something an important part of the kind of person you are. An important part of the kind of person you are. Doesn't it make you so much worse when you act than when you pretend? Say, when you act like you know something when, in fact, you don't. I think this is so much worse because you actually start to believe that you know something when you don't.

Or when you act like you care for someone when, in fact, you don't? Doesn't it hurt more because you have started believing that you do care, because you've taken that important part and held it close to your heart? That, when they find out that you don't really care about them, you still recoil from yourself a bit?

Again, realizations come wave after wave after wave. Maybe I don't like pretending because I don't know how to pretend. Maybe I've been acting all my life. Or maybe that's the reason why moving on has been really hard for me: I always act like I'm okay but I only pretend to move on. 

Does that make sense at all?

"And when we meet / Which I'm sure we will / All that was there / Will be there still.

I'll let it pass / And hold my tongue / And you will think / That I've moved on...."

- White Flag, Dido

Buntis

Unti-unti na ngang nakikita
Ng mundo
Ang totoo.

Una pa lang ay alam ko na.
Napagtatanto isang umaga.
Matapos magkape'y alam na nga
Naramdaman na ang unang sipa.

Masaya man sa naramdaman,
Pilit 'tong ikinubli sa isipan.
Takot mawalan ng kaibigan.
Mahal sa buha'y masasaktan.

Pagka't pagtanggap nito'y may kakambal:
Hinagpis sa mga pusong hangal.
'Di naman alam kung ito'y tatagal.
'Di naman alam kung ito'y pagmamahal.

Nguni't hanggang kailan ba itatago?
Alam na nga naman ang totoo.
Kahihinatna'y 'di na rin bago:
Lahat ay tiyak na uuwing bigo.

Una pa lang ay alam ko na.
Baka sadya lang nakatadhana.
Pilit mang baguhi'y wala na.
Pilit mang itago'y huli na.

Ngayo'y di na alam kung pa'no tatapusin
Gusto man ang atensyon mo'y di maaring hingin.
Nawa'y kahit paliham ako'y iyong dinggin:
Ako ba'y sadyang kaya mong mahalin?

Dahil pabulaanan ma'y 'di na maitatanggi,
Bumibilog na damdami'y di mo rin naman masisi.
Narito na nga'ng ebidensya, eto na'ng saksi:
Ginusto't inibig ka na yata, kahit ito'y mali.

Unti-unti na ngang nakikita
Ng mundo
Ang totoo.

Almost Dawn

Cool breeze on your face and a veil of midnight blue
Mix with smoke from the cigarettes, your only companion true.
Caught by this intrigue and your own brand of curiosity,
You dig deeper and squint and look even more closely.

Cool breeze on your face and a veil of midnight blue
Stretch bleakly from above, eyes are simply on you.
Try to win that staring game, be the warrior that you are.
Try to fight for your right, try to be that shining star.

Cool breeze on your face and a veil of midnight blue
Suffocate you -- oh, horror! -- by showing you what's true.
Thin orange strings of light around his neck are wrapped,
Still you don't avert your eyes for you are simply trapped.

Cool breeze on your face and a veil of midnight blue
Mix with smoke from your cigarette and from hundred others, too.
Stars that shone once brightly bleakly admit defeat.
And yes, you too, are lost; the good morning you must meet.

The Only One

Lately, I haven't felt like writing anything. So, instead, I am posting this picture. It says a lot about how I feel, actually.

Oh, and what exactly is it that I'm feeling? It's for me to know and for you to find out. :)

BUT.

[You know,] my brother once told me that nothing someone says before the word "but" really counts. 
- Benjen Stark, Lord Snow, Game of Thrones Season 1 Episode 3

I want to smoke,
let all the steam out,
blow these thoughts out of my system.
But 

I rarely smoke alone
and I don't really want 
to be alone right now.

I want to paint and draw, 
put some color back
in my dreary life.
But 

I'm missing my muse
and I don't really want to be reminded
that I am alone right now.

I want to dance,
put on my ballet shoes and
let my toes point me to the right direction.
But

I don't hear the music anymore
and I don't want to listen to songs
that tell me I am alone right now.

I want to leave,
run free wherever I want
without looking back.
But

I'm stuck where I am
and I don't want to admit
that I'd be alone if I leave, anyway.

I want to know the truth,
get it out in the open and 
just move on.
But

I'd rather lie to myself
'cause I don't want to forget
that you made me feel like I'm not alone



even for just a short while.

Who the hell are you?

Tell me, who the hell are you?

Because I've been waiting. I think I've been waiting since I watched that Disney movie about that Native American princess who fell in love with this Englishman. Okay, fine, maybe not. I was just five years old then, anyway. But I remember sighing and feeling all happy as the wind blows on her face, whipping her jet-black hair in such perfection. (Take note that never did those strands of hair obscure the Englishman's view of her face. And not once did she accidentally feed him with her long, silky hair, too, despite the wind blowing almost every time they hold hands or kiss or whatever.) I think my fascination with true love started the moment they waved good-bye. She, on her cliff, with the ever-faithful wind to make her even more stunningly beautiful. He, on his ship, with a sling on his arm and an equally handsome face. At such a young age, I realized that it doesn't matter if you have absolutely nothing in common, can't even speak the same language, are ignorant of each other's culture or have peers/families/tribes/troops/etc who hate each other. As long as you are in love, and you're willing to work it out, you'd always have each other, no matter how far apart you are. Nothing is impossible when it comes to love and being in love.

I cried at the end of the movie. I still cry every time I watch it. (Never mind that the sequel sucked big time. I refuse to believe that my childhood is ruined because of a poor, direct-to-video sequel.)

I grew up a bit and started waiting, not for you per se, but for that perfect moment. You know, and as corny as it sounds, girls really do wish that they'd have that "movie moment": a kiss under the rain, a very public profession of undying love on the streets with a bunch of flowers at hand, or maybe even a flash mob dance. I did. I still do. I have loads, actually. And for the longest time, seizing that moment meant falling in love and actions spoke louder without words. But I've had tons of these moments over the past years with a few frogs and even fewer princes who did a lot and explained nothing. Thus, I learned (the hard way, unfortunately, as usual) that the person you spend that moment with is indeed of utmost importance.

So, where the hell are you? Because I've been waiting. And waiting...and waiting some more. There were times that I thought I've found you, only to find out that you're not him and you're still hiding from me, you sly devil, you. See, the games that you play...they're very confusing. They're like mystery games, only you forgot to leave some clues. So, now, I am lost and I am just waiting for you to show up, take my hand and hug me, laughing, saying that it was all a cruel joke and it's over now...that you're here now and nobody's going to trick me ever again. How I long to see your face (the real you, please and thankyouverymuch), to smile at you and to sing all those love songs I've listened to over the years, thinking of you, thinking of the time I'd eventually spend with you, thinking of how I'd eventually spend my life with you.

Back to the real question, though: who are you, really? Will I know that it's you when I first see you? Or will I first hate you then eventually fall in love with you? Are you a complete stranger to me right now? Or have I met you before? Or are you -- pause for the needed dramatic effect -- a friend! Oh, how oblivious am I of your existence! Or perhaps you don't even know that you're my you. I wonder when fate would bring us together. Fate will eventually get tired of us and just let us be...

...right?

It's funny how I am asking you these questions when, right now, you probably don't know the answers, too. Right now, you're probably snoring in your bed or working your ass off or studying or paragliding...or perhaps thinking of me, too. Who knows? Who cares? Well, I mean, who cares but us, anyway? Oh, and you might be in someone else's arms right now, too (yes, we can't discount that possibility), but I don't mind. For now, I shall try to be better, be more beautiful and be the most wonderful person I can be. And why not? I don't want to end up losing when you start comparing me to your women. I hate losing. I can be very competitive. You'd probably know that soon enough (and I sort of expect you to accept it, too.)

And so I'll stop asking these stupid, pointless questions now and daydream some more. And, one day, when you finally, finally decide to show yourself and end this painful waiting game, I'm going to let you read this piece and we're going to laugh at it, like an old inside joke we've shared for years. And then, I'm going to tell you...

Strip, September.

I know I haven't blogged for a while. This is mainly because August was HELL. I've never had an August worse than the last one. But, being the optimist that I am, I have decided to let that all go, look at everything as a challenge and move on. Don't give me too much credit, though. I don't think I'm doing this because I have matured or something. I just keep on thinking that, if I don't hold my head up high and just walk away, I'd still smell the same poop every single day and that would be just sad. Don't you agree?

Anyway, September is here and some friends of mine have dubbed the month as "Happy September." Only, September, for me, isn't a happy, happy month. It's not hell month, not like August, though. I'd like to think that it's the month of changes. A lot of things are happening and they are happening fast. It's just mid-month and I feel as if I have enough memories to last me the rest of 2012. I honestly find it hard to catch up and it's tiring, in a way, to be always chasing after dreams, whatsits and whatnots.

It's funny how one event can change the way you perceive your life, how a singular moment can create so much chaos that you're shocked, stumped and perhaps even everything else in between.You realize that your so-called principles and ideas are not as grand as you think (perhaps hormonal, even). You realize that the people you thought were like this turned out to be like that. You realize that you overlooked things that were right under your nose -- and you did it on purpose, because it was easier to ignore them, really. And, yes, you realize all these at the same time, and you don't have the time to say "Wait!" or grab a lifebuoy or even breathe for that matter. You end up trying to swim for your life. Otherwise, you'll drown and die out of pressure or you'll float around and simply lose yourself in the process.

In so many ways, September is like that new sexy star featured in your latest copy of FHM: shocking, too revealing, eager to leave a mark in your memory and your consciousness for a long, long time.

Thus, to September, I say one thing: strip. Let it all out. Bare it all. Show me what I want to see...no, show me what I need to see. And, maybe -- just maybe -- when I have nothing in my hands but the naked truth, I'd know how to act and how to do it right come October, November and December.

Strip, September. Teach me how to dance again.

Painting Haikus

Disclaimer: This is purely fiction. Yes, even "him.". I think. :P

Where will all these lead?

Feelings of uncertainty

Comes in waves, crashing.

Tears and fears arise,

Unraveling the disguise

Of strength, composure.

Roads fork and streets wind.

Choices unmade made plenty.

Problems multiply.

The body is tired.

Overused, defeated.

The soul is broken.

Then, unheralded,

Amidst chaos, he arrives:

Hope is found in him.

It's in the banter

About taboos permitted:

Joy is found in him.

It's in all small things

Like curious hymns, guitar strings:

Peace is found in him.

It's in chances, like

Plucking planets from the sky:

Is love found in him?

(And falling real hard?

Maybe dotting i's with stars?

Painting sad days blue?)

Qualms are resolved when

Painting haikus about him

Makes it all better.

And thoughts become things.

Feelings are such mysteries.

Where will all these lead?

(c) 2012

Letting My Feet Decide: 2011 Trips (Part 4)

I know that this is supposed to be the last installment but...I sorta changed my mind. Haha. There will be a Part 5. Hehehehe.

Other places to visit, other things to do

So far, I've written about some of the best places to visit while in PPC. However, if you have time, you have to check out these places, too. They're not as popular but equally captivating. Plus, they offer activities that you might find really interesting. :)

Puerto Princesa Baywalk

Look at how serene this place looks. Isn't it a beauty?

Unlike The Baywalk that we know (with the endless garbage and the foul smell of rancid water), the Puerto Princesa Baywalk is a place to relax and hang out after a long and tiring day.

The PPC peacock

Highlights: Need a quiet place to think, write, draw, jog, walk, whatever? Go to the Baywalk. The best part? It won't cost you a single centavo. Well, maybe except for your fare, which is roughly around P20. You can also buy souvenirs here of almost the same quality but less expensive prices.



Lowlights: I'm not completely sure if it was because we arrived quite late or what but I didn't find much food stalls. It is advisable to bring your own snacks or eat first before going here.

Beans and Pages: Coffee

The ambiance is very comfy and very homey --
you'd feel like curling up with a really good book!

Craving for a coffee fix, my sister and I visited this coffee shop. As we were passing by Rizal Avenue on our way home (home is my lola's house, by the way), its name caught my attention at once because it stands for two of my favorite things: books and coffee. I practically shouted Para! when I saw it. Too much excitement, I suppose. My sister looked at me as if she was the most embarrassed person in the world. Hehe.

My sister, enjoying her latte

Highlights: The idea of combining a coffee shop and a book store in one is just great! And their book selection is really good. The variety of books is suited from different age groups. Plus, I sort of interviewed the owner of the place and they hold movie nights on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 7:30 PM. He mentioned some titles and I figured that the films aren't too mainstream but they're really interesting. They're more of the artsy, cultural type. Beans and Pages is like mag:net in Manila, only it's a coffee shop.

Lowlights: Their coffee is not that fabulous. I hope it has improved, though. I was there back in 2011, after all.




 Pho Saigon: Chao Long



Before there was lomi, there was chao long, Vietnamese rice noodles that will always, always be a Palawan staple for me because it was the first dish I ate during my first-ever visit to Palawan. It was summer of 1998, I think, and Papa was really, really insistent that I try the dish before we head to NARRA (where we really stayed/lived).

Happy, happy, happy! :)

Highlights: Why, the chao long, of course! What else? :)

Our food

This is chao long. Yay!

Lowlights: The service is quite slow. Quite unacceptable, as there weren't too many customers.  Or maybe I was just really hungry and really excited to have chao long again after such a long time. Haha!

My sister, the ever-kind and ever-patient creature that she is,
waits for her food with a smile on her face. Or a half-smile? 

 Outside Puerto Princesa: NARRA, Palawan

I would be mad not to visit one of the many places I called home (and for at least three years, too). Ladies and gentlemen, NARRA, Palawan.

The lagoon. LOL. Tru took this picture. :)

Highlights: Visit its peaceful plaza and lagoon to relax and to chill. I remember having cheering practices here. The gym, located near the plaza, is where I received my medal for being first in class during our recognition day eons ago. When I visited my friends after Mama’s death, we also hung out here.

This is the playground near the lagoon. I don't have a picture of the gym. :(

Though I didn’t get the chance to visit, don’t forget to go to Estrella Falls. I remember it being, er, cold and wet. Hahaha! Oh, on the way to and from NARRA, watch out for the Wonder Coconut tree. It’s amazing. I don’t have pictures but, well, you just have to see for yourself. J

  

I don't have pictures of Estrella Falls so I'm posting pics of flowers from my old school instead...

...and a butterfly, too. Pictures all taken by my darling, darling sister.

Lowlights: Beware of monkeys at Estrella falls. That’s all. Call me biased but I heart NARRA. Haha! 

When I was in third grade, this used to be an ordinary shed where I spent my afternoons reading books.
Now, it has been turned into a mini-library! I am so happy! :)

Meet Acel, my friend from way, way back.
(She was the one who showed me the shed-turned-library, actually.)

We ate halo-halo at the marketplace!
My cousin and I used to eat here with our lolo.
I miss those days. :(

Cold Coffee in the Morning

Note: Okay. So it's an Ed Sheeran song. I suggest you listen to the song first. Or read the lyrics. Then, read.

We had cold coffee that morning. I remember the disappointment we felt when we found out they didn't have hot brewed coffee. Or maybe it was just me. You were never one to betray your feelings anyway.

I remember feeling tired earlier that day. I have cried my eyes out and my heart was broken. I was so unsure of what would -- could -- happen so I did something I haven't done in a while now: I had a really good cry. My other friends tried to comfort me. Some offered advice that didn't really make sense. One knew how I really felt, had experienced what I was going through first hand. She understood perfectly why I couldn't stop crying (or why I started in the first place). She understood why I had to put on make-up, why I had to paint a mask of poise and bravery. She was amazing.

But you were even more.

I'd like to think that you understood what was going on in my head, what I was feeling in the depths of my soul. I'd like to think that you saw through the mask I painstakingly painted when you said I looked like sh*t. I'd like to think that you knew my strength was almost gone, my courage almost depleted, when you asked me why I was so scared. I'd like to think that it was sympathy that made you say that you hated my father. I'd like to think that it was concern that made you stay the night.

And, boy, was I ever thankful that you were there. It made me feel safe for a couple of hours, made me feel a normal girl just hanging out with someone her age. We didn't get a wink of sleep but I felt relaxed. I looked like I had been ran over by a ten-wheeler truck but I didn't care: we were talking at last, like friends should. We talked about some random topics. We talked about people. We talked about you. We talked about me. It was wonderful because I knew at some particular level you trusted me. You were there because you did. I think I can be pretty sure of that.

Can I?

We had cold coffee that morning. It wasn't much but it was good enough. I would've loved a steaming hot mug but I didn't mind the cold can. It was sort of what we needed. It has served its purpose: you shared a bit of your feelings and I shared a bit of my thoughts. It's stunning how a little bit of this and that can add up to something so grand and, suddenly, it's five in the morning and you (or I? We?) have no choice than to leave it as it is.

That's how we end up with cold coffee in the first place. We try to savor its warmth while it's there and it disappears ever so quickly. We try to drink it all up as fast as we could and we end up not appreciating what it is and what it has or, worse, burn our tongues. A fleeting moment and the warmth is gone. We have no choice than to leave it as it is.

Our coffee was cold but were we able to warm it -- even just a tiny bit -- with our hands? Were we able to at least pretend that we had something genuinely warm, something pleasant, to hold on to during those wee hours? Did the cigarettes help? Did the conversation, when we agreed that it never happened?

We had cold coffee that morning, and then it was time to leave. I should've known better than to think that a singular can of coffee would change things. A fleeting moment and the warmth is gone, and my hands are not enough to warm a can of cold coffee unless I stay too close to the fire and burn my hands first.

I had no choice than to leave it as it is. 

Did that make any sense to you at all?