Relapse No. 6

Like a faucet

Turned on

Very similar to the facet of this fact

That needs exploration,

Explanation,

Action.

Did it matter then that it happened

Once upon a time, 

Upon some slithering snakes

Dancing to see who

The real charmer is?

Like a disease

Spreading

Almost the same as a pair of limbs

Accepting and praying

Quickly closing,

Now running.

Does it matter now that a pair ponders

Over bones set into play,

Whilst roaring in delight, disgust

Fighting to see who

The real winner is?

Like a home

Haunted

As her eyes, his touch, their faces

Look confused,

Bruised,

Used.

Will it matter that they have set

The rules, perchance to break,

The stage where a poor soul stands

Waiting to see who

The real man is?

***

Tango (Part 2)

I've fallen for your eyes but they don't know me yet 
And the feeling I forget I'm in love now. 

- Kiss Me, Ed Sheeran

I was afraid and excited and...pretty happy. I knew that that dance would be one hell of a dance the moment you placed your hand on mine.

The first step was perfect -- done at the same time and on the same beat. We spun and waltzed across the dance floor. It was exactly what a tango's supposed to be. It was precise. Passionate. Hot. My eyes have betrayed me: all I can see were glimpses of this and that whizzing past me. Not that I cared that much. My other senses were so...heightened, it was scary. It's as if I can hear a million things at the same time, can feel a million things at the same time. I was having a frighteningly great time.

I couldn't have asked for a better dance partner, too. I can't really describe it, you know? It's like it has this binding magic of its own. You have your own brand of magic. I remember everything in great precision and in a blur, too, if that's even possible. At that time, it didn't matter to me anymore if I were still dancing it right, if I were still moving my feet the way I would've if we were back in the rehearsal studio. Yet you were there to remind me to breathe when I felt like I was about to lose my sanity, to give instructions when I felt like going over the edge, to pull me back when I felt like ignoring the rules of this intricate dance. But I still let the music take over. I let myself loose and danced like I have never danced before. I tried to put as much heart and soul in it without disfiguring the steps, without disregarding the rules.

The dance was almost over when you did something totally unexpected. You improvised. You started going to the left when every book says stay right. After pulling and pulling and pulling me back, you brushed aside the conventional dance patterns, changed our pace and just started really dancing. With me.

Suddenly, it wasn't just about dancing the tango just for the heck of it. It was dancing the tango as if my life depended on it. It was, ultimately, dancing the tango with you.

Tango (Part 1)

You don't have to put on that red light...You don't care if it's wrong or if it is right

- El Tango de Roxanne, Moulin Rouge!

I wanted to dance. I felt it in my bones.

Music was playing. It was loud. But beautiful loud, you know? It made me feel so alive. Each note, each beat, every word. I have never felt like this before. It was something very familiar but something very new. How is that even possible, I wondered. But reason was reduced to nothing but a blur when I heard that old song from not so long ago. Next thing I knew, I was singing. I was humming and I wanted to dance. I was singing and I wanted to tango.

Let me tell you, I really, really wanted to dance. But, for some weird reason, I kept on declining offers. It didn't feel right. No, not with this song. If they have played any other song, I would've gladly danced with them. But not this one. Not this one.

Then, I saw you.

I felt it in a rush. I knew I just had to dance with you. You looked at me from across the dance floor but those glances you threw my way were not enough for me to know for certain if you thought of me competent enough to tango with you. So, I brushed the thought aside and tried to stop myself from raising my hands and dancing to those taunting violin strings.

My song ended and another one began. Brushing aside the disappointment was harder than I thought. I started walking away...

...when you grabbed me by the hand.

And the dance began.

On Making Decisions

I read somewhere that we make about "217 food-related decisions a day". I think we get more or less half of them wrong. That's why we gain (or lose) weight without us knowing. Most girls are slaves to that flat, board-like object lying on the floor. One itsy bitsy line (on that weighing scale, that is) defines our utmost triumph and joy (followed by days of high self-confidence and that liberating "I'm-sexy-and-I-know-it" vibe) or pure anguish and frustration (followed by another week of very limiting diets and really painful physical activities).

It's amazing how, most of the time, crossing one itsy bitsy line defines the course of action we undertake in our lives. It can make us. It can break us. It most definitely affects us. And, most of the time, there is no turning back. The numbers you see when you step on the weighing scale become insignificant when you think of how there are so many other things that you cannot lose (or gain back) once you've crossed that line.

(And they say losing or gaining weight is one of the hardest things a girl encounters in her life. Ha! Yeah, right.)

So what must a girl to do when she is perched on that fence, sitting and thinking of the right thing to do? Must she heed her instinct or carefully think things through? Must she go for the practical choice or the popular decision? Must she be selfish or think of the feelings of the people around her?

Must she listen to her mind's reason? Must she listen to her heart's desire?

Based on experience, I'd like to say that it doesn't really matter. What matters most is that you are ready to face the consequences of that choice. Remember that it is always a fifty-fifty thing: you are never sure if you've done the right thing unless it has been shoved up in your face and you can see it as clear as day. So anticipate that uplifting feeling of pride and satisfaction in what you have done. However, be ready to accept the crushing agony of defeat and shame when you realize that you have gone down the wrong road and that you are lost.

And, when you do get lost, remember the reason why you chose that road anyway. Try to recall all the pros and cons you have listed down (or the lack thereof) that led you to that direction. Remind yourself. Make sure you're sure. No, not of the fact that you made the right decision (because there is no way of knowing, like what I have mentioned earlier) but of the reasons behind that particular choice. See, there is nothing worse than doubting yourself. Second-guessing never helped and never will.

We make decisions every day. Some major ones, some minor ones. Like the ripples when a pebble is thrown in the middle of a lake, remember that it is the effects of our choices -- even the small ones -- that define us. Sometimes, it takes just one teeny tiny line to determine who we are. While we may not always know where to stand, may we always have the courage to stand...and to stand tall.

Life's lemons

They say when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

But what if you're out of sugar and ice? Sometimes, you can't help but feel pessimistic when things are out of your control and, as much as you'd like to remain hopeful that things will be better soon, you lose that cool energy to keep going and that sweet inspiration to get things right again. When this happens, what should you do? Should you still make that lemonade, knowing that it'll taste as bad and sour as the fruit it came from?

Today, I realized that life does not necessarily become better or worse just because a new year has arrived.  You will still be haunted by your past and you cannot start anew unless you have tied up all your loose ends. But is there even a chance in this lifetime for you to drive your demons out of your life? Can you really completely forgive yourself for the pain you have brought not only in your life but also in the lives of the people you care about? Or is finding peace in yourself found only in eternal repose? Are we destined to just admit defeat and feel content with the meager happiness we receive from petty achievements and fleeting memories and bear the mediocrity and/or pain from all the other moments in between?

They say when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. But what if you want a glass of apple juice instead? Do we really have to accept all of life's lemons and not ask, wish, hope, pray, beg for something else? Is it wrong to ask for something totally different, just for a change, just for once?


***
Okay, this is such an emo whine-y post. The next lemon life throws me is definitely ending up with tequila. LOL. Happy new year!

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?