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? 

Thank you, twenty-two; more to see at twenty-three :)

So. It's my birthday. Hurrah! :))

Birthdays have always been a big deal for/to me. When I was younger, I remember how my brothers and I would prepare a little something for our parents' birthdays: we'd fill the room with handmade birthday cards; we'd "make" birthday cakes; we'd buy birthday gifts. I think they were never surprised surprised but they pretended to be each and every time we call them into the room and shout "Surprise! Happy birthday!" with snot, watercolor and glue on our faces.

I always thought that a birthday -- your birthday -- should always, always be special. It doesn't matter if you have money or if you have gifts. I have always believed that it's the thought that count and birthdays will always matter if you get something -- anything -- other than a simple greeting.

Of course, life has always had its silly (and, sometimes, really annoying) ways to make you feel otherwise. Most of my birthdays have been rainy and that's quite ironic since I hate the rain. I have had birthdays wherein I was too sick to even care. I have had birthdays wherein the people whom I expected to make me happy forgot that it's my birthday. Yes, I have gone through birthdays wherein I had nothing but tears in my eyes (and not out of joy, mind you) and these were the times when I thought I had it wrong. That birthdays are not meant to be special, that they're just ordinary days made overrated.

But then I remember all the wonderful things that has happened during my birthday. I remember how my first rehearsal with my first (and only) theater company was on the same day as my birthday. I also remember how our first-ever team bonding (of the team in the company I work for right now, that is) was on the night of my birthday, too. I remember how my brothers bought me cake for my birthday although they didn't have that much money (I never figured out where the money came from, actually). I remember being really happy. I remember feeling loved.

Honestly, I don't know what to think of birthdays anymore. I now know that they can never be always special...maybe unless you want it to. Maybe it's just a matter of perspective. Maybe it's just a matter of choice.

The only sure thing I know about birthdays is that it's a mark, a sign that you are one year older. It shows that yet another year of blessings, frustrations, joy and laughter, sadness and tears, disappointments, triumphs, etc. has passed and you have survived. You have learned. You have grown.

With age comes maturity. Twenty-two years of living is not enough for me to acquire all the maturity I need to handle the problems I have and the ones I will have. There will always be hang-ups and fuck-ups that you'd need to deal with. But, just like my view on birthdays, I won't forget that each year is also filled with perfect moments wherein I felt happy and I felt loved.

I wonder what's in store for me at twenty-three. I feel excited. I feel scared.

I feel alive. :)