"Associative Looseness"

One always has to know when a stage comes to an end. If we insist on staying longer than the necessary time, we lose the happiness and the meaning of the other stages we have to go through. Closing cycles, shutting doors, ending chapters whatever name we give it, what matters is to leave in the past the moments of life that have finished.
Did you lose your job? Has a loving relationship come to an end? Did you leave your parents' house? Gone to live abroad? Has a long-lasting friendship ended all of a sudden?
You can spend a long time wondering why this has happened. You can tell yourself you won't take another step until you find out why certain things that were so important and so solid in your life have turned into dust, just like that.
But such an attitude will be awfully stressing for everyone involved: your parents, your husband or wife, your friends, your children, your sister, everyone will be finishing chapters, turning over new leaves, getting on with life, and they will all feel bad seeing you at a standstill.
None of us can be in the present and the past at the same time, not even when we try to understand the things that happen to us. What has passed will not return: we cannot for ever be children, late adolescents, sons that feel guilt or rancor towards our parents, lovers who day and night relive an affair with someone who has gone away and has not the least intention of coming back.
Things pass, and the best we can do is to let them really go away. That is why it is so important (however painful it may be!) to destroy souvenirs, move, give lots of things away to orphanages, sell or donate the books you have at home. Everything in this visible world is a manifestation of the invisible world, of what is going on in our hearts and getting rid of certain memories also means making some room for other memories to take their place.
Let things go. Release them. Detach yourself from them. Nobody plays this life with marked cards, so sometimes we win and sometimes we lose. Do not expect anything in return, do not expect your efforts to be appreciated, your genius to be discovered, your love to be understood. Stop turning on your emotional television to watch the same program over and over again, the one that shows how much you suffered from a certain loss: that is only poisoning you, nothing else.
Nothing is more dangerous than not accepting love,relationships that are broken off, work that is promised but there is no starting date, decisions that are always put off waiting for the ideal moment. Before a new chapter is begun, the old one has to be finished: tell yourself that what has passed will never come back. Remember that there was a time when you could live without that thing or that person nothing is irreplaceable, a habit is not a need. This may sound so obvious, it may even be difficult, but it is very important.
Closing cycles. Not because of pride, incapacity or arrogance, but simply because that no longer fits your life. Shut the door, change the record, clean the house, shake off the dust. Stop being who you were, and change into who you are.
-- By Paolo Coelho

I first thought that being an online English instructor is a piece of cake since all you have to do is speak in English. Correct your student’s wrong grammars, pronunciations and dictions.

I was not mistaken: D

I applied hoping that I’d get my English skills honed up in preparation for the forthcoming IELTS examination. I could help young Koreans with their English lessons, a little bit of their Math and Science subjects too; so an Online Tutor.

My shift starts at 2pm and ends 11 in the evening. I get 10 minute breaks but literally not applicable since we are required to log in to the system 5 minutes before the class starts. When we say class, my company has this virtual screen classroom where we could teach young Koreans across the world by clicking on colorful icons and underlining everything while chatting non-stop about the lesson. It was fun. It is fun.

Now I’m back to the basics. Learning my had, have, and has; my on, in, and at placements; the correct pronunciations of all words. And speaking very slowly and clearly; our trainer actually said I have a good junior voice. Perfect kindergarten teacher voice; I appear to be a very caring teacher, which is very suitable since I am teaching young Korean (not so young, too) kids :)

This is an amazing experience. Working with a young pool of dedicated English teachers, I, myself is learning through the process. Both in English, and with Life :)

There’s Always a Catch



Catch 22. I never got around to finding out what is the meaning of that phrase. Until now.

It’s supposedly trying to escape in an inescapable situation. It’s not really applicable in my case but nonetheless, I felt more like that being in the current situation that I am in right now.

I am sort of stuck in the middle; in between; I am floating.

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I found this site online that details the meaning of each phrases, and I’ve got a few here of my favorites.

Be Afraid, be very afraid
Be Still, My Beating Heart
Between the devil and the deep blue sea
Break a leg
Talk to the hand

And many more… now I’ve stumbled upon secret love letters, let’s see what’s in there.



Book of phrases

Nine years ago, I was a wide-eyed freshman enrolled in the best university in the Philippines. There was a mantra in my head inculcated by numerous leaflets and assemblies that pushes for additional compensation and budget for the university, "There are only two universities in the country, UP and others." Believing in this, I thought that after graduation, the best years of my life would come. I would be hired on the spot; I would be chosen over other applicants; companies will come looking for me; I could choose the job that I want- since I am from UP.
However, things didn’t turn out the way I expected. Like any other fresh graduates, I went for countless job interviews and job hunting. The call center was not yet that established and it has some sort of reputation, and I was too proud to work in a call center, because I am from UP. I applied for the senior positions, and therefore I was declined not knowing any better. I was jobless for six months, until I was finally accepted to be an Account Executive for a Marketing and Research Company. I was quite happy, earning my own money, finally landing a job, and finally working. This job entails me to get clients to hire the company’s services, so in order to do that I was on the phone almost the whole time. Sending out fliers, fax, and emails and distributing brochures- I was doing this for 6 months and didn’t even get one client to hire the company. Therefore my sales and marketing strategy and ability came in question. And before they could give me the axe I took it upon myself to resign. Nobody could fire me, I am from UP.
So, I went job hunting again. This time the lull of the call center industry became so attractive and the compensation was so alluring that I was sucked in. I became an agent selling refurbished computer parts to companies in the United States of America. I was quite doing well, sold a couple of chips, got my commissions and I was having fun with the night life. Nonetheless, my future as a call center agent looked dim, since I believed that I am better than just making calls every night. So I took my cousin’s offer, she referred me to a government company that she was having a business deal with. Hiring me was part of the deal. By this time, I already lost my belief system that I could get any job that I want. Being a secretary was not my dream job. I was floating. And I couldn’t hear anything. Except for one very suitable and timely suggestion; why don’t I take up nursing?
So I did. For three years I took up nursing and passed the local boards three months after graduation. I was hoping that maybe this time I could actually get the job that I want since I am a board passer with a grade higher than average, and what other jobs are there for a nurse than to work in a hospital? My license was released four months after the boards. In that time, I had no choice but to wait since nobody would hire me without a license. Then I got my license, so I immediately applied to all the big hospitals private and government alike. But it seems that nobody is hiring nurses nowadays, private hospitals require new nurses to undergo training for not less than 2 months without compensation and with a training fee, before considering them for a job in their institution. Government hospitals are better since they have a pre-determined timeframe for applicants. It’s just that there are no openings at this time of the year since the nurses bound for abroad are, not yet resigning because of the visa retrogression and stoppage of hiring nurses in the UK. Therefore, we, the new nurses have to wait for an opening, which is just excruciating. I’ve been waiting for a job interview for over a year now and still I haven’t been scheduled for one.
Now my issue is; people have been saying that there is a nursing shortage in the country. But there are over 39,000 who just passed the nursing board exam last June. How about the 20,000 board passers last December? How about the other 35,000 passers before that? This surge of nursing graduates is creating a pool of unemployed since no company abroad would hire nurses without at least 1 year hospital experience. How can we get that experience then if nobody is willing to hire us? What they are suggesting then is to finish all the international tests like NCLEX and IELTS so that we would be hired easily. But when the hospital you are applying to came to know that you are a NCLEX passer, they will not hire you because they know that you would only stay there for a year or less. And because of the practice of previous nurses that goes AWOL, some hospitals have created a policy that prevents you from getting your certificate of employment if your contract was not completed.
Therefore, what else is there to do?

There was once a young girl who wanted to become a doctor. Because she thought that it would make her parents proud of her, and that she could earn lots and lots of money, by being a doctor. The prestige that comes with the white uniform, and the respect that they get from all the townspeople -- she thought she could have it too, once she becomes one.
Then she grew up, added four or five years to her age. Got a little understanding of the world; how it works and what’s really important -- at that time. So she wanted to become a lawyer. How their signatures can cost a whooping five thousand pesos, and how they can get people off from things that they did, or were accused of doing. They save lives, families, and they are very wise.

Then she had some experience with public talking and competition in grade school. She was awed by the information thrown at her, and her teachers expectations that she wanted to become a journalist. Full of ideas, general information and…

She grew up, then she wanted to become an actress, a supermodel, a PMA Officer, then she met someone then she wanted to become a doctor again, then a journalist again, then she got a course in the Arts. Which made her heart very happy because that’s what she really wanted to do, but since it’s not a land of gold, she forego that dream and thought that she could take up law. But then was not given a chance or she didn’t really try her hardest. Then she needed money, her family said--- go take up nursing and we’ll support you. Go abroad and support us afterwards. Give it all back. Everything that we spent on you, every cent.

The thing is, this girl’s lost. She doesn’t know what she wants and she’s lost herself in the process of finding out. How could she not know what she wants when the people around her knows what she wants better than her?

And she’s crying… hopelessness emitted from the stale odor of this old apartment she’s been imprisoned in for how many months now. She wanted to go out but something of divine intervention is preventing her to do so. She’s already lost but the worst thing is she’s lost with a plague stuck on her face.

September 16, 2007
2:00 AM

It rained a while ago; its heavy downpour gave this arid feeling and the smell of freshly watered dry soil. I turned off the lights inside the house, except for the little bulb in the kitchen. I don’t need light; the one coming from my laptop was already enough. I usually turn off the light outside my apartment, the one lighting my door, for at this time of the night nobody would be walking anymore, nobody would be awake anymore, except me… but I was wrong.

My roommate left this afternoon to visit her family. So I was left alone in the apartment, with the cat. I’ve been quite comfortable with this arrangement since I am a night owl and I usually do my work at nights and I go to bed really late. So being alone at nights somehow gave me my privacy and solace to think and study. I liked my nights alone, I like having the apartment all by myself, I like answering to nobody but myself… until the banging came.

The lights were off inside and outside; I was busy studying with my laptop. The cat was fooling around trying to bite my bag and I was shooing her away… when all of a sudden the chains on my door rattled, then I heard someone or something trying to push open my door, fiddling with the locks…

My heart raced, I jumped from my seat and immediately turned on the lights outside. Luckily I was just in the living room, where I could hear even the slightest bits of noises. I was scared to open the window to see who or what it was that’s causing the noise – so I just stood still, behind my door, waiting for it to fling open and readying my escape plan. I tried to figure out the shapes and silhouettes outside, squinted my eye against the opaque window just to make sure nobody or nothing was standing in front of my door. I saw no figure, I saw no movements, and I heard no noise.

Just the beat of my heart about to jump out of my chest… even the cat tried to see who was outside. But it was total silence. Until now that I’m writing this, it just happened 30 minutes ago and still, total silence…

Now, I can’t seem to sleep. I’m scared to fall asleep I might not wake up anymore. Or worst, I might wake with someone looming over me or with an excruciating pain that I was stabbed or shot or something. Blood all over me… gross.

I don’t want to die like that. I want to die peacefully, and quick. No pain.

Who’s going to take care of my cat when I’m gone???

I have come across the same terrains again. Familiar dirt road and recognizable lamp posts; all reminiscent of the things that happen over and over and over again.

Yet I still tread it every time. Unfaltering. Unwavering.

I clutch my heart at my sleeve; afraid it might eventually fall off. I scurry at the slightest bit of apprehension. I look around for some additional information that might help my journey less miserable. Shorter and fruitful even, a fool’s hope. At times I soar like an eagle, optimistic the whole way through. Unstoppable, aggressive, risky to the point of stupidity.

I held my breath and pretended to die. I lifted up my hands and imagined I could fly. I immortalize my pain through my writings; the never-ending memento mori I am preparing. Perhaps, like some best-regarded poets and writers, whose works were only recognized after their deaths; mine wouldn’t be any difference. More so, maybe my seemingly insignificant existence could be used as an excuse for something bigger than life. Then I… matter, eventually.

I cry at the top of my lungs. I tried to pull my eyes from its socket but could not. So, I sat there whimpering like a beaten, wet dog. Triumphant in my agony. Then the sun came and shined upon me again.

But then, tell me… how come I’m passing the same terrains, again?

The uphill and downhill slopes; the dust welcoming me at every turn; the smoke coming from the chimney of my broken self; how long will the wings on my feet last? How much more can the rope attaching my veins to reality endure?

And if I come to cross the same terrains again, I pray to God, help me.

I saw a man flying in EDSA today. I thought there was a parade of some sort or the taxi cab hit a garbage bin; for a lot of chicharon flew off into the air-- then a man in a somersault somehow joined the charade. Then I blinked.

Moment seemed to freeze as we pass by slowly to take a look at the unconscious vendor on the middle of the road. Cars honking and everybody seems to be in a slow motion. Thick, dark red blood oozes out from his nose and was shining against the light of the sun. He was still. Unmoving. And so are we.

I felt guilty. I am a Nurse. What would you do in a situation like that? I was on my way to the hospital for a job interview with my friend, who was driving, and who owns the car. A 2-door car, which makes it difficult for us to stop and take the man in and rush him to the hospital. First, in a vehicular accident you should not move the victim for the risk of doing more damage in the spinal cord or anywhere, wait for the proper authorities to move him. Second, we are both women and for God's sake we can not fit him in the backseat lest we removed ourselves from the car first! And also, we can not carry him.

So we sped away, hoping to see MMDA in the road to report the accident (where were they when you needed them the most?). We passed by the yellow taxi who hit the vendor being flagged down by a black Ford. Then a passenger, a woman, came out. What a nerve! She doesn't even have the decency to stop the driver and tell him to take the victim to the hospital. She just went along for the ride. Good thing somebody flagged them or the driver would have gone away with reckless driving resulting to homicide?

This is the second time actually that I saw a man fly. It gives you the creeps and the image, amidst the noise of EDSA seemed to take a recording of it's own. It's like a THUG! Screeechhhh!!! Except that the screeching sound was not from the Taxi that hit him. It was from the passersby who had it in them to stop and be awed by the raw action laid in front of them.

However, you can not really blame the taxi driver for the vendor was not within his legal rights to be in the middle of EDSA. It's a no-passing zone. As the famous pink billboard says “Bawal Tumawid, Nakamamatay!” But as a human being, it is the responsibility of the driver to be concern and bring the victim to the hospital. Hoping it's not too late. I hope that vendor would be okay. Risking your life for how many cents in every cigarette bought; for how many peso in every chicharon bought, or mineral water, or just about anything.

It was just shocking I guess. I'm hoping i won't see one anymore again.

I am asking this question because it seems that everywhere I look, this makes a mark that somehow leaves me haunting for answers. Everyday I see things wherein I say to myself, is being in love enough?

There are a lot of things associated with being in love. Being “in love” actually is not what you should call it when you find another person amazingly interesting, lovable, and deliriously attractive. “In love” is a state, and like most “states”, it is something temporary, a fleeting moment, a certain status, something that won’t really last.

So, for the sake of argument and some things I read from The Road Less Traveled,:

The section mainly attacks a number of misconceptions about love: that romantic love exists (he considers it a very destructive myth), that it is about dependency, that true love is "falling in love", that love is cathexis, that love is a feeling. Instead love is about the extending of one's ego boundaries to include another, and about the spiritual nurturing of another, in short, love is effort.

I have been presented with some situations, about a friend having another lover apart from one she already has for nine (9) years. She’s having an affair and she claims that she loves both persons and if the original partner finds out about her affair, she’s going to deny it, and if worse comes to worst, she would not choose either of them. Now, I’ve been asking her if she loves the one she’s been with for 9 years, and without batting an eyelash she says Yes! Now, next question would be, then why are you having an affair with another person? Then here comes the most complicated part of the conversation. Mostly because I don’t approve of her reasons, and partly because I am biased as to listening her explanations why. Then I sort of realized, maybe she doesn’t love the nine years anymore. She’s just staying for the sake of the years spent together, which was rather absurd. So I asked her, “Why don’t you leave that person and stay with the new one? Since that new person obviously makes you happy.” She said no, she could never do that to the nine years, she can never find someone incomparable with the nine-year-person. Wtf? But, hey, that’s her life. My business? No.

Then here comes a TV show about a married couple with a declining sex life. The girl initiates the talk of open marriage and the guy agrees with the premise that it turned both of them on and he just wants to get laid. But in a turn of events, the wife really went out of her way and slept with another guy, believing that they have this “open marriage” thing worked out. However, the husband didn’t take it too seriously and was still waiting for the time when he and the wife could get it on in the sack. Finding out sooner rather than later, that the wife was already sleeping with another guy. So the husband went out his way and slept with another girl.

Sad thing. When this kind of things happen to good couples. Having another person on the side at the same time claiming being in love with the current beau is really absurd. As I mentioned, they were only maybe in a temporary state when they said that they were “in love”. And does this love enough to withhold your desires for other people? It should be. As M. Scott Peck says, love is sustained by not mutual dependence; it actually causes strain on the relationship being too dependent. Therefore true love is achieved by being independent of each other. Meaning, that when you go away and do some stuff on your own, you want to go home and share your experience with your partner; and the partner would do the same without the both of you feeling guilty of left out from each other’s lives. Communication is the key. Plus a truckload of honesty.

Maybe what these people feel when they engage in an affair, they lose the excitement, and they lose the lust they have for the person they’ve been with for a thousand years. Yes, it does happen. You could actually get tired from loving; curse it at times; but you would never stop loving the person if you really started to really, really love that person from the very beginning, inside and out.

There’s this line that the husband from the TV Show said before finding out about his wife’s affair. He said, “I love her, I love the way she smells, I love the way she is with the kids, I love her cooking. I just love her.”

That melted my heart.

Now, did I mention that the nine-year-person found out about my friend’s extra-curricular activities? I actually pity the nine-year-person. To give your love, and your life into nurturing a relationship you hope would last forever; and then reality would hit you right in the face that the person you’re offering the world to doesn’t actually feel the same for you, anymore at least.

I wouldn’t want that to happen to me. If I was with a person and that person doesn’t feel the same way I do?

Now, here’s the cliché. I actually don’t know what to do.

I have been taking steroids for my condition, and this has been my more or less 4th week (not consecutively) taking steroids. I took methylprednisolone 16mg twice a day for two weeks and taper it down to 4 mgs twice a day for a week. Then now I am taking prednisone 20 mgs twice a day for a week.

I dread the effects steroids have on me.

First and foremost, the excess flab that adds to my already inflated tummy and my big face. Yeah, yeah it reduces the inflammation of my lymph but then it also attracts water therefore causing me to bloat. But that’s human nature, right? To get fat?

Then here comes the acne. I experienced severe acne attacks on my back going up to my nape; thank God it doesn’t go to my face. And here are some more possible side effects that may happen to me:
· High blood pressure and heart disease
· Liver damage and cancers
· Stroke and blood clots
· Urinary and bowel problems, such as diarrhea
· Headaches, aching joints, and muscle cramps
· Nausea and vomiting
· Sleep problems
· Increased risk of ligament and tendon injuries
· Severe acne, especially on face and back – already have this L
· Baldness

Also, there has been studies showing behavioral side effects such as severe mood swings:

According to Dr. Wadler, anabolic steroids can cause severe mood swings. "People's psychological states can run the gamut." says Wadler. "They can go from bouts of depression or extreme irritability to feelings of invincibility and outright aggression, commonly called "'roid rage. This is a dangerous state beyond mere assertiveness."

Anyways, people around me are sort of not aware of this roller coaster I’m going through. I’m just hoping I don’t manifest as much as it says I would given the long-term use. This condition recurrent; so maybe someday, you’ll see me writing about the same stuff again, complaining of other symptoms. I’m crossing my fingers that nothing fatal befalls me.

What is this sickness that has been bothering me for quite some time now? I am a Nurse and yet the cause reiterated by my doctor seemed absurd for me. I have lymphedema, which was originally caused by my sialitis, now i guesssed it took a life of it's own and it's unstoppable, and recurring -- unless i treat it with steroids.

I hate steroids. It gives me acne and dry mouth, and occassionally stomatitis. I wouldn't take it if there were any other measures to control it. Oh, and most probably, i'd grow fat. Oh yeah, the long years of enjoying life being skinny -- then i'm fat? Urgh!

So what is it now, lymphedema. As per medical description, it is the swelling associated with the migration of fluids from the outside going inside or vice versa in cases of CHF. Mine is only localized swelling at the left submandibular area which was caused by obstructed lympahtic drainage because my AB-AG mechanism has over reacted to something i think i'm allergic to cause such reaction, therefore these antibodies gets trapped in the lymph duct and the lymphatic fluid was not able to flush it away because of it's stuck there. Therefore causing the swelling because fluid can not pass through. Amen.

For more info, don't ask me. Ask the doctor. Or better yet. Search Google.

When you are faced with a reality and confusion of your doing, it gets so hard to stand up and admit that it's all your fault.. and you're willing to take the consequences for it.

It takes a lot of courage to be able to finally say, “It's okay, I'll be fine. Everything that we have will remain a memory, a good memory that will haunt me in my waking hours.” But it takes a lot more courage to gather your things and walk away... just walk away.

Nothing can ever prepare you for the hurt and the incoming misery that you would only feel once it's over. You promised yourself you wouldn't cry; you promised to yourself you wouldn't beg nor ask for one more chance. I applaud you for doing so, for sticking with what you said you would do --

But I applaud you more for staying; against all odds; you stayed. I applaud you for not giving up, for having a bit of courage to stay – just for a little while. For a little while.

And yet, you managed you fix what was broken; you managed to hang on and kept your grip onto it. For what you have together is a treasure; a priceless non-entity that exists only in both of your hearts; and that no matter where you go or what you do; you have made a mark and carved your own niches in each other; that there will only be emptiness when one is absent; there will only be longing when one is away.

That kind of attachment, that kind of bond, that kind of connection – is what you call TRUE LOVE.

I went out last night, my first time in a long time with my old good friend Rica. We’re supposed to hang out at her cousin’s bar but she had invites to this Girl’s Pre-White Party at a friend’s bar in Malate. So off we went.

I met interesting characters before we went there; Rica’s workmates from Sykes, First up is Lyle and then G (which I later found out it’s Chie pala). They are very nice lively people. We immediately had it going and all of us fooled around, along with Irish and Jaye.

We boarded a taxi – the six of us -- parang yung commercial about 6-sik in the taxi. It’s a good thing the driver tolerated it.

At the bar, mysterious characters floated around. We got free tickets (c/o of Chez. Thanks very much!) and ordered the night out –- though I didn’t remember who paid for my drinks, I think it was Rica so I just bought them breakfast at a bulalo place somewhere in Manila.

There were dancers on the ledge, pole dancing and stuff. One particular girl, in an all-white garb caught my attention, I was not really sure if she’s a girl or something else. I brought up my concern to the owner and she just said she doesn’t know her; maybe she is because I think she looks like it. Then they laughed at me. Man, I wasn’t drunk yet.

The party was okay, rowdy and loud and full of people. I met some old friends and patched things up with one. Some I don’t even remember anymore, some I did. Some introduced themselves, and hoping I won’t forget in the morning.

There’s these two (2) people constantly haggling us and they were after Chie; who got scared and moved away. Pretending to be hooking up with another friend just so they would stop bugging her.

At my third beer, I was oblivious with things around me, I was hugging everyone, dancing with them and really lost my inhibitions. I was having fun, but my company was thinking otherwise, that I was not my usual self, that I was dead drunk to be doing those stuff – but they’re wrong, I am completely in control of my actions; the difference was just that hindi na ako kasi nahihiya.

So what people are saying about not remembering anything after a night of heavy drinking is not true. You are completely aware of what you’re doing; it’s just that you can’t stop yourself because it is that inner desire that works on you. Alcohol brings out the wild side in you; the hidden desires in your subconscious will be acted upon by your ego. The ID is working its way out. And you will remember everything in the morning, and try to get away from responsibility by saying you don’t remember. Denial is always the best recourse.

So at my fourth beer, friends were concerned about my well being, one even took me outside to have a breath of fresh air. Then we had a conversation. This certain friend had been a good buddy of mine almost 5 years back; but due to some circumstances I cleared away from them. They were my party friends, and I simply just refused to go out, I got tired partyin’ and settled in my nice little cocoon with my beloved. Every time they would invite me out, I would say yes and then would not show up. I guess they got tired inviting me. Until last week, hence last night.

I mentioned about patching things up with a friend. The reasons are blurred now and honestly, now, it doesn’t even matter. I don’t care anymore. That kind of attitude gets to you when you grow up and you mature and realize that the things you think were so serious before seems very silly now. As you move on you are heading towards a goal and childish rifts are considered nonsense.

As for me, I just want to have a good time and everybody around me to have a good time, too with me.

This revelation will always be reminded by a scar below my left breast from a cigarette when they hugged me. Oh, well. That’s life. You learn something then you get scarred for life.

So the thesis statement of this wondrous parable is that: Just have fun, don’t take things so seriously. Go out and party!

Bow.

Today is my last day at my temporaray job. I have to get the clearance form from the outsourcing company I was referred to, which was in Ayala Avenue. I would be coming from the Fort, Global City.

On my way back, I promised to myself I would stop by Santuario de San Antonio in Forbes Park. Which I did. I boarded the bus and got off at the church. To my surprise, there were a lot of policemen and PSG guarding the place. There were also a lot of red-plate cars parked in front of the church. As I was about to go in, a PSG in a barong uniform asked me where I’m going.

HELLO? I’m going to the church -- maybe I’ll play pingpong with the priest.

He said I can’t go in because there’s a wedding ceremony inside. So what? It would only take me a few minutes to ask for forgiveness for silently cursing them PSGs… and that oh, so important person getting married inside. I bet, the girl just wed him for his money. Hehehe.

I asked who was getting married, he said the DOH Secretary. So? Do you need all these bodyguards around? I inched my way closer to the door, eventually I sneaked in.

It was an ordinary wedding. Just that the church was full, and it was first time to see a wedding sitter, errr…planner, fixing the sitting arrangement. (He) was holding a list and he was directing the latecomers to their proper places. Plus, all the attedees were wearing dress to kill dresses. Meaning, the women were wearing saya and white galas and silky dresses and stuff. While the men are dressed in barongs and americanas. When I say men and women, all the attendees, as in, all!

Nice to look at. It would be better if I saw the face of the bride and groom. Nice to look at din kaya? Hehehe

Anyways, I was waiting for the bus outside the church. It came to me, that maybe they were not really guarding important personalities who attended the wedding. Maybe they were really guarding the groom from scandal --- you know he got someone knocked up and that girl would go inside and shout, “STOP! Hindi kayo pwedeng magpakasal!” Then the priest would ask why, then the girl would say, “dahil ako ang mahal niya!”. So everybody would be looking at the groom, but the weird thing is, the groom was baffled, flushed in disbelief even. The groom’s father would then look at his son with glaring eyes as if saying, “what the hell are you thinking?”

To which the groom would answer, “I don’t know this woman.” Then the woman would answer, “I wasn’t talking about you, dummy. I was referring to HER!”

Hehhehe haahahah!

I was actually laughing at the sidewalk, by myself. Maybe people passing by in their cars think I’m a little cuckoo for giggling but I didn’t care. I was amused.

It helps to think about funny scenarios and other things to pass the time. It’s very refreshing and time flies by so fast.

I didn’t even notice that the bus refused to stop when I waved. The driver waved at me too when I waved… was he meaning to say Mabuhay?

Hahahah!See, i wasn't even pissed. It helps when you imagine your way out of things. It makes everything light.

Anyways, it was really hot so I decided to take the quickest ride to the office. Habal-habal 2007!

I’ve got a job interview today, for a BLOGGER position. Nice, eh? So I went online to check the company’s profile. It’s an IT offshore company and I don’t really know what they are up to with regards to products and sevices. I was just interested in finding out the job descriptions so I could prepare for the exam and possible questions during interview.

The obvious things: must finish a four year course, proficient in speaking and writing english, grammatically correct, ability to adjust to flexible hours, hardworking, and fast learner and adept in SEO strategies.

OK. What was that again? SEO STRATEGIES?

Now that I don’t know. I searched it online and saw that it’s an abbreviation for Search Engine Optimization. Too technical?

It’s basically your effectivity in generating income through ads and being ranked number ONE in search engine results such as in google, yahoo, ask.jeeves and alta vista.

I was quite skeptical before about people getting rich through the internet like the google brothers (or was that the yahoo brothers?). How could you possibly get money through putting up a website and then just write and write and write? Quite ignorant, am i?

Little did I know that it has to do with advertising. The same principles that govern the television and radios are the same principals that are behind the money in internet. Advertisers would want to market their products on your website if you get more than 500,000 visitors a month. Now in internet language, they refer to this as clicks. How many clicks you get on your website. And some website really generate to as much as 1 million clicks in less than a month! Or more than that. Amazing, isn’t it?

Now how do you get people to go and visit your website and give you their most elusive clicks? I also researched on that and I’ve come up with some answers which are basically obvious but i’ll say it anyways.

Tell people. Of course tell your friends. Get the word out. Come visit my site.
Advertise. Append your web site address in your email signatures. In your Friendster even. Just everytime you make a transaction append your web address.
Submit your site to search engines – google, yahoo, alta vista, netcape, etc…
Strategically place keywords on your content that would be highlighted and you think that it’s what people are going to search for. Like LOVE, money, or anything as long as you don’t compromise your web content.

For more tips regarding search engine optimization and what really is it aside from my mediocre description. Visit this site. It’s like SEO in a nutshell.

Now, ask me if this is really working. Well, I did place ads on my blog. I signed up for Adsense and it’s really quite doing well! Considering that only few people know about my blog, I generated an income of $0.24 USD in just 4 days. Yeah that is small but the world doesn’t end right there. It’s continuous and so is the internet traffic, and so is me consistently updating my blog, and in time – I’ll get a check all worth my efforts. For just doing what I like. The check is a long shot since I live here in the Philippines but who knows.

So, go and place ads on your website. Also contribute articles on Helium, except that I don’t have a credit card account so I can’t activate my PayPal account, I have 0.10USD there already. I earn points everytime someone clicks on my articles. Nice, right?

The more clicks the more money! Money! Money!

p.s.

please don’t forget to click on the advertisements on your screen. Your donations will go to my fund, the imee cariaga kawawa charity.

Thanks and mabuhay!

I saw a recap episode of Oprah talking about women and their anti-aging secrets. Nora Ephron was there. I’ve known Nora Ephron only through her works, which are my favorites: Sleelpless in Seattle, When Harry Met Sally, You’ve Got Mail and Michael. The first three were all starring Meg Ryan, who was one of my favorite actresses, because in her movies you see this perkiness and in-control sort of like a kid kind of way and it gets into you that you want to be around her all the time; that you begin to like her without knowing it, adorable even--that kind of stuff.

Anyways, watching Nora on TV for the first time, how she talked, her head movements, her eyebrow movements, even the movement of her mouth when she speaks -- so Meg Ryan! No, I didn’t mean that they look similar because Meg is by far prettier (of course) but their antics, weirdly the same. Well, at least in my observation. Then I got into thinking, maybe it was not really coincidental at all. Maybe the Meg Ryan that I see in Nora Ephron’s movies was really Nora Ephron personified by Meg Ryan’s characters. So you see, Meg Ryan was a very good in imitating other people. Then making it cute and adorable -- but if it would be Nora Ephron, it becomes funny not adorable anymore.

Then here comes Nora’s answers to Oprah’s questions, which were totally hilarious. A mark of a great writer I must say.

Oprah: Some women admit that the sex is better when they get older. What do you think of that?
Nora: Ahh…You could only have the best sex at 71 when you never had sex before that.
(Conversation from The OprahWinfrey Show 2006)


Heheh outrageously funny.

Oprah: What is your anti-aging secret?
Nora: This! (pointing to her hair), hair dye. You can not see people with grey hair anymore. It’s the only thing that separates me from my mother. Back in their time you could only see pink and blue hair dyes and before they call it strawberry blonde; but now there are a lot of black dyes and…


Nora’s lines has always amused me in the past, and until now. Remember that scene in the restaurant where Meg Ryan had a fake orgasm? Then an old woman saying, “I’ll have what she’s having”, after seeing what Meg did. Her lines are always witty and with cute bluntness that gets you unprepared ‘til you erupt in a smart laughter. Her lines were not really targeted to be comedic but how she delivers it, how Meg Ryan delivered it -- it's outright genius.

I stumbled upon transcribed lines from her movie “Michael” starring John Travolta. The overbearing archangel Michael who was living with an old woman. Some people didn’t like this movie for it’s absurd idea of an angel living life here on earth and enjoying life’s abundancy. Here are some of them.

Michael: You can *never* have too much sugar!
________________________________________
Michael: You know, I invented marriage
Pansy Milbank: Oh really?
Michael: Yep. All these people were milling around, trying to get together, everything was in chaos so I told 'em, "Have a ceremony".
________________________________________
Michael: Remember what John and Paul said.
Frank Quinlan: The apostles?
Michael: No, the Beatles. All you need is love.
________________________________________
Huey Driscoll: Can I just pull on your wings to see how they're attached?
Michael: Why don't you pull on your pecker to see how it's attached?
Pansy Milbank: Hey. Language.
Frank Quinlan: An angel that says "pecker."
Pansy Milbank: Language.
________________________________________
Michael: Whatever they say, you can never have too much of earth.
________________________________________
Michael: You gotta learn to laugh, it's the way to true love.
________________________________________
Michael: The miles will fly and your children won't cry, if you play car bingo.
________________________________________
Huey Driscoll: My wife has lips like a blowfish.
________________________________________
Michael: I'm not that kind of angel.
________________________________________
Frank Quinlan: Bring him back.
Michael: That's not my area.
Frank Quinlan: Would someone please tell me what his area is? Don't give me that "that's not my area" stuff. BRING HIM BACK.
________________________________________
Michael: Battle!
________________________________________
Dorothy Winters: It's cookies, he smells like cookies, and the smell gets stronger when he's in heat.
________________________________________
[repeated line, while cooking breakfast]
Pansy Milbank: Over easy!
________________________________________
Michael: Hey, what's the opposite of white?
Frank Quinlan: Black.
Michael: No. Yolk.

For more click here.

This is just an example of a character embodying the author’s personality (as it not always the case, though) but somehow it is.

Looking for an online job is the same as looking for a real-time job in person. I have probably searched all job engines looking for part-time, internet, writing, blogging, tutorial, english-online instructor, research jobs!

Whew!

I am most keen in applying for writing jobs because I thought that it would only be per article per submission basis. Which would be very comfortable with my schedule since I am going to work in a hospital (very soon!) Also that I love writing and I could go the whole day in front of a computer and just write away with basically anything. The Company where I applied the position of Creative Writing actually invited me for an interview, and when I went to search online the company’s credentials – I discovered it is an outsourcing company that caters to basically anything. It requires graveyard shifts and rotational shifts instead of the flexible hours I am looking for. In short, this is NOT creative writing per se. It is not a part-time deal for it requires 8 hours a day of work. Letch.

Then online english instructors/tutors. One Korean company called, declined the interview twice -- so I guess they figured out I’m not really that interested in teaching koreans how to speak english -- I said I’m a writer not a speaker. I have a little bit of problem with T’s and H’s and S’s. Anyways, not my calling.

So here comes the blogging, writing per article basis jobs. I applied to maybe a dozen but only one replied. I checked the pay per article and it’s

200-300 words = 60p
300-400 words = 75p
400-500 words = 100p
500 above =120p

That’s in Philippine Peso. *sigh. The going rate per article is not really that encouraging.

Then there’s this one company who actually sent me a job order. I was really excited because at last my efforts didn’t go to waste - but then the job order was for an Accounting Expert. I could research on it but I’m not really an accounting expert. My article might be filled with errors and I wouldn’t even know it, how would I know it? Hello?

So I requested the company to send me job orders regarding the topics I am most updated and and interested -- like Healthcare, Medical, Literature, Movies, Politics, Religion, History, People, maybe reviews on techie objects, Cars or Laptops and Cellphones. But not anything with numbers please…

I could be a Physics, Math, Algebra, Trigonometry, Geometry, Chuvametry tutor but only at the Highschool level. I took Arts in college! Hello?

Anyways, I hope I get another job order.

-- aymi --

Once I walked down an unfamiliar path
        winding road and blinding light
People dressed in black and white
        and we are the creatures of the night
I said No -- never shall I stay dark
        I will move on to a brighter land
Each person becoming closer to me
        sympathize with reality
I know I can detach myself away from them
        then fly back to never never land
But then-- lightning strikes
        we shared something I I could've never
                imagined -- with you.
Passionate desires inflames my soul
        my heart beating fast
Yet… we are creatures of the underworld
        uncertainties awaits us
Doubts afloat
                could I ever keep you?

10/30/02

I am here, here alone in this space
Remembering, how you turned up my world
glistening diamond you are such
beautiful.
Waiting, I stand by for eternity
feeling your breath on me once more
I succumb to these dark desires
and I long for more.
My heart, races along with my hand
in describing how I tremble
electricity striking my every vein
dampness of my hands showing
I desire not to feel desire for you
but to just hold and caress you
Definitions -- terms are insignificant
my mind understands my heart
Lights flowing down there,
cars screeching nearby
people following each other's footsteps
How far have we gone?
reflections mirroring myself
I see a girl lost -- lost in a world of lies
where the truth is non-existent -- or is it?

Oct. 2, 2002

What a day! What a day. Spending the whole evening writing and finding out the 4 pages, font 11, single spaced story i wrote was gone. Just like that. Gone. From my stupid USB. sh*t!

So much for the anticipation. My script had three versions already and it wasn’t even proofread yet. Anyways, it’s the end of the week. Much has happened that I can’t even recall.

The other day I saw Sarah Jessica Parker  (or was it Piper Perabo? Beats me.) in person. I’m actually taller than her. And she doesn’t  look at all that enchanting. Like the way she sprints around in that show “Sex and the Kitty” hehehe

Kidding.

Very interesting horoscope today. It says that i’m lucky that I have friends coz I’m fortunate enough to have the kind of bunch that would stick by you, uplift you, and help you in times of trouble and need. So, I must repay them in anyway I can, let them feel I appreciate them, extend to them my warmest hello, and the all time favorite “kamusta na?” So I did. in friendster. I sent everybody a message. And the kind of life that I’m living and the possibility of living it for ever, my friends would be my only refuge.

When I was younger, I never had a “best” friend. I don’t remember having a friend, actually. Friend for me that time was – constant companion; I go to their house, s/he comes to mine; we share snacks at school; we gang-up against the bad girls and boys at school; I see s/he during the summer, and most importantly – a playmate.

I never had a playmate. Except for one stupid boy every summer.

So, I would play by myself. Climb all the trees at the backyard pretending I’m a monkey. Then jump down with a towel as cape pretending I’m superman. Lucky me, never had any injuries of any sort. But my legs got the beating. Remember that joke, “mayaman ako, kasi marami akong piso”. Well I was like that before. My scars literally looked like 1peso coins. Even had multiple scars, one on top of the other on my knees. I would also pretend I’m robinson crusoe, stranded in an island, so I would just write…write and write; and when I would get tired of writing “letters” to my family, I would exercise my combat skills—by hitting the banana trees all around me. Then I would pretend I’m Jackie Chan, or Cynthia Luster J and go on kicking, boxing, and hit the banana tree with a kitchen knife.

On a hot lazy afternoon, I wouldn’t be seen napping. I’m out on the street, biking, by myself, under the hot sun.

I never had a doll (but my mom claims I did, but where?) so I would steal my brother’s toyrs; cowboy guns with pellets and horsey-horsey… I would sometimes pretend I’m a priest and give communion to imaginary people. I would pretend I’m indiana jones playing hide and seek with the dogs and climbing the bamboo roof to get little birds and play with them… or sometimes just feed them to the cats.

There was this one time I pretended I’m a store owner and tried to sell orange juice in front  of our house. Nobody came to buy. Nobody walked by our house kasi. Unless you purposely come to see my parents.

Anyways, I’m thankful now that I have friends, real unimaginary friends, I won’t have to go on pretending and playing by myself – but it was also fun.

Everything is fun when you’re a kid. Wish I still am…

------
aymi

I got caught the other night. Swerving in EDSA Ortigas. I paid 200 pesos. To whom? The corrupt MMDA. Asshole. Initially, he wanted 500. Bangag ba siya? I bargained in the middle of EDSA, until he gave in to 200. Grabe. It was my first time to be hustled like that. The last time was when I was with Marge, Toni and Michel. Beating the red light. I admit I’m really stupid. But they’re banking on my stupidity. Anyways, they’re not going to get rich by a mere 200 pesos. They will just feed it to their children who will grow up to be just like them (God forbids!)

I pray for their already tortured souls in hell! (as if?)

There’s this cheap perfume store in Robinson’s Galeria, JMJ. They sell you original perfumes maybe 500 less than the original price in Rustan’s. Which is a very nice buy, right? You will also get discounts if you pay in cash. Then they have this TESTER bottles (not for sale actually) which they sell in a much lesser price (tester kasi). But it’s a tester bottle so the packaging isnt like the orginal, and on the bottle, there is non-removal sticker that says “not for sale” harr! Harr!harr!

But if it smells the same? And it’s original? Good buy na rin, right?

For two nights I have been taking care of my niece because my brother and his wife went to Boracay for a vacation. Nice, the first time; exciting and scary; then it became tiresome; she would wake up every two hours while I'm still in the process of pre-REM. I need to tap her legs and hum a soft lullabye to lull her back to sleep. Then the witching hour  2-4 am. She would wake up, and fall asleep again. But she's still sleepy, so she would fuss, and I don’t know how to get her to sleep again. Eventually my mom heard her cries and came up to her, or my, rescue. After that, it's my mom's problem na. But she's so cute. And she would smile in her sleep. And she would giggle and laugh without any apparent reason - she's only 2 months old.

Add my stress regarding the screenplay. I worked myself out trying to come up with an interesting synopsis. Which I hope I did. And contacting people just to force them to read my script and comment because there might be a possibility of you know…

Anyways, now I am starting to revise my script over and over again. Before it's only 10 pages; it became 30 pages; now I'm running on 50. It's supposed to be a SHORT FILM! Waaaahhhh!!! Now, I think I am making a feature film screenplay. The mystery gone; the argument of art film gone; the play of words and colors and cinematic shots gone; my goal ala-wong -kar wai cinematography, still achievable… ah, basta.

I'm exhausted. Pagod na ko. But I'm liking it.

I feel so alive.

----
When life hands you lemons, go buy Tequila! Inuman na! Adja! Adja!

I am depressed. It takes a lot for me to smile today. This depression has been looming over me for the past years but I chose to ignore it. And I am still ignoring it. Except that I felt it’s sting creep within me and I felt an anguish distinguishable of a worthless cockroach.

What purpose does the cockroach have for existing anyways?

Various thoughts occupied my mind while driving today. I drove like an old lady, thinking – what if i crash the car, I know my parents would kill me – but will they still kill me if I’m already dead? I have to make sure I’ll die if I do that. I’m ready actually. The reasons that I told myself over and over again as the reason for my existence – is still there – but: I don’t feel I matter anymore. The reasons will still be there even if I’m gone.

My body is weary and I look at people and I feel disgusted. I want to resign in my solitude and dance to the music of abandonment. I feel like I have so much love to give and the people I want to give it to doesn’t want it – though they claim to love me more than I love myself. That’s why they are determined to make life decisions for me. They are overtaking my life and I see no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow…heck, I don’t see a rainbow anymore after the rain. I see hues of black and heavy clouds crown my skies. Vast green moss crowds my blue ocean. And hungry cows devour the freshness of my meadows.

I refuse to falter, but I am.

Maybe it’s better up there, where the sun rises endlessly and I can touch the stars and dance with bodyless children with wings on their neck.

Assuming I would end up there. If not I’d be eating barbecue for the rest of eternity. Maybe I could just stay in that space in between – the limbo. Nicole Kidman pronounces it in a very distinct british accent that makes it very exciting and sophisticated and presumably a nice place – maybe I’ll just go there… but maybe I am already there…

If I still exist… after the moon overshines the sun. Then maybe i’m still alive.

But then I am going to drive again. Hopefully I won’t be lucky next time.

I finished writing my original screenplay this week. It's somewhere here in my blog and I'll give whoever finds a tap on the shoulder :)

So here goes. The story was about two lovers on the process of breaking up. Will they separate or will they stay together?

I asked my friends to read it. I asked for their technical and creative opinion. But only 1 out of the 6 friends I asked replied with a positive comment. Now that got me thinking, AM I BAD WRITER? And then one friend said that I am just proud of my stories that’s why I asked (forced) them to read it – of course I am. But then again, AM I GOOD WRITER?

I ponder with this thought lots of time in the past. I was afraid to let others read what I’ve written because I don’t know if they would like it or not. I had a very low self-esteem. I know I excel in some areas; I even wanted to become a journalist before. I know I can come up with any technical write-up about anything - but when it comes to the arts, creative writing especially – something would hit my ruckus existence even with just a hint of criticism.

It was only during college at UP that I got the courage to share my story. It was actually received well, very well that my class went on to perform my play onstage, with tickets! I was really proud of myself, got a good review from my professor, kudos from my classmates, and encouragement from friends. Life was starting for me.

But still, I was hesitant to share more of stories. I guess it comes with your being young and fragile, I don’t know how to survive in the outside world. I was told people outside the university were cruel and they would step down on you any chance they get. I was scared. Terrified. So I hid my poems, I placed passwords for my stories in the computer…then at times I forget to get back to it…eventually I stopped.


Other things occupied my mind. But every now and then inspiration strikes me and I would doodle some lines on my notebook, my book, tissue paper or any availble writing material I get my hands on. It didn’t matter to me before that I displaced those sheets of papers, that I lost my notebook or my book. Posterity and collection meaned nothing to me – nobody would want to read it anyways.

As years go by I evolved into a more mature woman. With enough self-esteem to get me by – I was able to understand the meaning of every deepest statements; I shrugged off my shoulders with a boulder of criticisms; I learned how to save lives…

Then I remembered my stories and poems. Hidden. Lost. Insignificant.

I decided to save my dying creativity. At least for my own sake. I continued writing Part Two’s of my stories; I compiled my saved poems on my PC; and I started writing new stories, new poems, new insights, haikus, comics, etc…and things just like this article. This gave me a new outlook in life. I didn’t care anymore what other people would say about my work, I cared for the improvement of my written art. And their opinions and comments helps me mold my works into something better.

I guess you could say I grew a thicker skin. What matters to me now is that I can touch lives with my stories; I can open their eyes into the most insignificant of situations and convey the feelings of loneliness; that leap of faith; that victorious dance.

As I was browsing through Rainier Marie Rilke’s Letters to a Young Poet, I got this incredulous idea that I don’t need other people to review my work. That I should write for myself not for other people – TRUE. I actually sent a text message to my (forced) friends that I no longer require their opinion and that I can take away their privilege (see This Is My Galaxy), etc…

Then I came to realize- yes, I write for myself; I write so that I can escape, build a whole new world apart from this hellhole; to immortalize my thoughts, to express my feelings, to waste time – but then, wouldn’t it be nice to have someone take that journey with you? To have someone to talk to while trying to escape from the ridiculousness of reality? And to have someone read your feelings and then smile?

In short, I’m reaching out to YOU, the reader.

Reading is essential for your well-being. Do it everyday. Exercise your brain.

View this article on Youngblood.


TO everyone who might be affected or in serious allergy of this topic, I request that you turn your newspapers to the hypocrite and pathetic section. Thank you.

I am a bisexual. No, not the one who wears baggy pants and big polo shirts just to look like a boy. I am myself and I dress the way I want to, that is, as a lady. A feminine, supple, beautiful woman. I do not have anything against those "kababaro" who prefers to wear boyish clothes just to let people know that they are lesbians, or to get people to notice them. I laud their audacity to out themselves in public, or going out of the closet, as it's popularly called.

I am in the closet. Not because I am scared or hiding, but I prefer to keep my private life private. I don't want my life to be the topic of other people's gossip. I have my reasons and I will not subject myself to the judgment and ridicule of those people whose minds are so narrow even a surgical needle cannot fit.

If they don't understand me, why do I care? At least I won't have to go live every day of my life thinking that they know something about me and I would owe it to them so much that they're keeping it to themselves and that I would act as if I were guilty.

No.

I am in love with a woman. Is that such a bad thing? It just happened that she is a she and not a he, not in conformity with a tradition that we don't even know who set up. Who said don't fall in love with a woman if you're a woman. Is that in the Bible? Don't I have the right to choose the person I want to spend the rest of my life with? Even though she's also a woman like me?

I had men before. Three actually. One of whom lasted for two years. I loved him
dearly and I know he loves me too. But somehow our relationship lacked something. There's no fire and passion, and no deep understanding. I cannot look straight into his eyes and see his soul, but instead I see numbers -- calculus, debit, credit, tax laws. I've never been good at relating to numbers.

My woman, she is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. She indulges herself in art, classical music, and poetry. We both share a passion for everything. We can tell each other things that a man and woman could never share. We have an intimacy that keeps our flames burning even if we're not seeing each other that much, because of some
circumstances.

I went through a lot of things for her; I boldly admitted to my family that I love her. I do not mean disrespect but how on earth did it happen that they didn't understand me? They are supposed to be the ones who understood me better. Who accept me for who I am, and also accept the one I am happy with.

What I have with this woman is different from all my previous relationships. I know it in my heart that I could spend the rest of my life loving this woman. And I am willing to work for that, fight for it.

The important thing is I am in love, and it's not a matter of he or she, but of who and why.

I rode the habal-habal today. It was quite refreshing and scary and dyahi at the same time.

So, many eyebrows are raised. What is a habal-habal?

The only way for me to get to work at times is if I drive or if I wait in line for the FX going to Ayala. Then when I get to the Shell Station, if i'm not late I would be lucky to catch the company shuttle and and if I am (which is most of the time) late, I would wait in line again for the bus. The bus is very madalang so the pila would reach to maybe 100 meters and usually tayuan. Around the area, there would be men in motorcycles who charges 20P for the hatid ride to your building. They are called habal habal.

Anyways, it was scary and kadiri too because I had to wear a helmet (it's the law) yuck! yuck!I dont know how many people had worn it and if those people had dandruffs or any infestation living on their heads. Yuck! yuck!

However, I felt free riding a motorcycle in the city for the first time, along the roads of Forbes going to global city. I was half-smiling the whole time. Half proud of myself for being not so maarte and holding on to madman's motorcycle.

It was nice. At least I got to do it before I leave. :)

25 year old sagittarian, born under the planet of Jupiter, year of the rooster. Daughter of Zeus.

Idealistic and optimistic, i see things for their potential, i refuse to look at the obvious and make my way around things, poking and asking questions if need be. I like passion and drama and the play of words, it amazes me how one single thing could be describe in so many ways yet still enthralls you everytime. I seek for the finest expression of feelings; i seek for the realization of my deepest, darkest, funniest, most romantic ideas-even if it's only in writing.

I find solitude and peace when i write. Even if people thinks that i just try hard that's why i come up with my collections, that i am patient, and i am hardworking - well, i work hard to achieve my goal, i wait patiently for its' turning to life through my pen, and i try my hardest to squeeze my vocabulary and my brains out when inspiration strikes me- so i could write.

Writing takes me to places I wish I could go to. Writing puts me in situations i wish i am into. Writing fires up the deepest emotion i don't think i'll ever feel in this world - it is my escape, it is my haven, it is my paradise.

I don't want to force anyone or anybody to read my work. I write for myself, for my own amusement, for the expression of my thoughts. You and many others are merely spectators, i gave you that privilege-i can take it away. Your opinion matters only if i say so, i am my own critic, i am my own reader - this is my galaxy.

Now, ask me again why I write.

I came across this asian music video that made me cry years ago, and i was not able to find out what the title was, until somebody told me it was "kiss". I searched for kiss and thinking that's japanese appended japanese song to all my searches but i did not find it. Thanks to Youtube, i played all the videos that have the title kiss and japanese and found what i was looking for, for a very long time. get this, it's not japanese, it's korean, and the title is not kiss, it's "because i'm a girl", by a korean girl group named KISS.

I liked the music video because it was so touching, i thought it was taken from a full-length movie but upon proper reaserch it was not, most korean ballads have beautiful music videos kasi. So the story was guy was a photographer and he meets parlor girl, who was pakialamera. Naturally guy takes photos of parlor girl and compiles it. Then one day, parlor girl and photographer guy was busy taking pictures until photographer guy ran out of films. Parlor girl then volunteered to get the roll of fims for him from his dark room. Parlor girl was really small so getting a roll of film on the top shelf took quite an effort and she made tabig tabig a bottle of film developer and down it goes into her eyes. Of course, girl get's hospitalized and photographer guy blamed himself and left. So parlor girl thought the guy left her for good, and she goes crying while eating ice cream in front of the television while watching stuart little *sigh*.

Then one day parlor girl (now model girl) saw photographer guy in a race track with shades and a dog. She went near him but he did not recognize her. Because photographer guy donated his eyes pala to her when she had the accident. So in turn, the guy was now blind so she can see. *sigh*

The most important part of the guy's body was his eyes, given that he is a photographer and that everybody needs the sense of sight. But he willingly gave it up for the girl that he truly loves, even if it means that he will not be able to take pictures again, he will not be able to ride his big bike, and he will not be able to see her pretty face.

Wala lang.

"A great love story is a great love story, and it doesn't matter what gender is involved." - Piper Perabo

nais kong lumipad at magkaroon ng pakpak
ilayo ka sa lugar kung saan ka maaaring mapahamak
ang mundo ay malupit, alam nating lahat
ngunit bakit kinakailangang maramadaman mo ang takot ngayon?
kung saan ang lahat ay tila alapaap
sa piling mo ako ay nangangarap
na sana habang buhay ikaw ang kayakap
ngunit, takot ang sumisiil
nanaghoy sa aking kaibuturan
kung maaari lang sana na ikaw ay bantayan
sa lahat ng oras, lahat ng panahon
upang kahit daplis ng takot
ay hindi mo maramdaman
magpakatatag ka, tibayan mo ang iyong sarili
may awa ang Maykapal
gagabayan Niya ang mga nagmamahal
wala ako magawa
kaya sa Kanya kita iniaasa
na lagi ay iligtas ka
huwag kang pababayaan,
sampu ng iyong pamilya
ngunit kung isang araw makaligtaan Niya
nais kong malaman mo
hihilingin kong gawin Niya akong anghel
upang sa gayon ikaw ay mabuhay
manatili sa lupa
mundong mapaglaro sa tadhana
hindi ka na mababahala
iingatan kita, hanggang kailan man...

i feel your heart beating fast

i hear you breathe on my hair

i grasp your being with me

your tenderness and softness

you are a wonder to my eyes

i never thought i could find

my soul had wandered far from here

yet, i found you near


here


inside


my heart

We started speaking,
Looked at each other, then turned away.
The tears kept rising to my eyes.
But I could not weep.
I wanted to take your hand
But my hand trembled.
You kept counting the days
Before we should meet again.
But both of us felt in our hearts
That we parted for ever and ever.
The ticking of the little clock filled the quiet room.
"Listen," I said. "It is so loud,
Like a horse galloping on a lonely road,
As loud as a horse galloping past in the night."
You shut me up in your arms.
But the sound of the clock stifled our hearts' beating.
You said, "I cannot go: all that is living of me
Is here for ever and ever."
Then you went.
The world changed. The sound of the clock grew fainter,
Dwindled away, became a minute thing.
I whispered in the darkness. "If it stops, I shall die."

Yearning to live through it all
That one day I will live and fallIn your arms
I shall lay
In your presence I shall breathe
In your love I shall live
Never thought such a feeling
Unrewarded by honesty and faith
Goodness nips my veins
Glad, I hear myself whisper
Contented, I felt my body sigh
Visions of you sinful being
So powerfully deceiving
My blood jumps out of my mind
My eyes intensely fixed to yours
Memorizing each silhouette of your face
My hands caressing your tenderness
My lips touching skillfully your wholeness
I demand nothing from you
I ask only for your grace
Let me love you my own way…

I came from a friend’s house this morning, went there straight from work last night. The house was somewhere north so I had to take the MRT going to work. I went to the oldies/women’s section, it was not so crowded as I expected at 9 in the morning, I even had a seat, but didn’t have the chance to give it up for the pregnant lady cos the girl beside me beat me to it. So I contented myself with making palinga-linga like stupid looking at people. Observing them.

All of the passengers have Libre Newpspaper. Sitting, standing, leaning, even nakabitin they are all reading the newspaper.I saw what one girl was reading, Dolly Carvajal’s article about Yilmaz and Ruffa and the turkish newspaper with a headline Uyupturucu Kacakisinn Odlu Flypynler Unlu Aktrstyyle Evlendy, in english –Smuggler’s Son gets married to a famous Philippine Actress. So, naturally, the scorned Ruffa filed a complaint againts Carvajal saying she shouldn’t judge Yilmaz, blah and blahber. Anyways, read the whole article if you want here.

So, I made linga-linga again like stupid, and the other girl was reading this little green book with a weird title, 38 Judoki Elementary Edition. It was intriguing, at first I thought it was a guide book for teachers in elementary. Then I got to peeked in a little, turns out it’s a pseudo-sudoki type board game how-to’s. *sigh*

Then the train stopped at Kamuning, in comes a petite, fair girl; amidst the siksikan she managed to get the bitin spot right in front of me. So, having my view blocked I proceeded on scrutinizing every piece of her. She was wearing a 2-inch-pin heeled slip on sandals, no pedicure but her toenails are clean. Her feet are a little large for her body figure, she stands maybe 5’1 but her feet seems size 7, or 7+. She had those veins that pop out when you’re standing on heels for too long. I thought only women like me have those dorsal veins popping out, having no care for the feet at all (not even a single foot spa) and walking long distances. She has scar-less legs, I think even hair-less. She has this garterized striped-ala-samba skirt above the knee and a black off the shoulders top with a not so transparent plastic bra strap. She has long hair that reaches to her waist, and one shoulder bag and one paper bag. The paper bag contains 2 to 3 pouches of maybe make-up, a small organizer, a box of tissues and a folded umbrella.

Then a woman and her kid sort of bumped into her and in the stillness of the MRT we heard a very Paris Hilton like “Ouch!” So, this girl is very very much maarte. Why did she take the MRT if she doesn’t want people bumping into her? I wanted to hit her right in the middle of her legs like you would a guy, to teach her a lesson. But. Oh well. She was reading Libre, the whole train ride, nakabitin and all, she was unmindful of her skirt being pulled by gravity or something else. Her belly was exposed same as her white undies. I was thinking maybe she put that on purpose, to arouse the guys? So, seeing that she’s very fair and has nice skin I figured her belly was also the same. BUT upon closer examination, her belly is just like mine! She has this rolled out skin that you get when you lose weight, and I also noticed white-silvery-grayish lines…hmmm…stretch marks. So maybe she’s older than she looks, maybe she has a kid already.

Anyways, next stop was mine so I stood up. She sat in my seat still reading.Hablutin ko kaya bag niya? Mahahabol niya kaya ako? Hehehe Arte, arte. Dapat nagtataxi ka na lang. Hmp!

There’s this guy two desks away from me at the office, he’s a very big, mustache American guy, who speaks on the phone as if the whole floor was his office! We could overhear everything he’s saying, even his burp…that’s how loud he is. It’s funny sometimes, like this one time he was trying to get to someone and a receptionist got his call. Then the receptionist tried to connect him to the person but the line got cut so he called again and got the same receptionist, this time the receptionist told him to hold, which he did, then the line went dead. Then he called again, now a little pissed, the same receptionist got the call again, after so much so- and so, and him telling “This is the worst receptionist, ever!”, she gave him the contact number of the person, who turned out was not in the office at that time. We were laughing our hearts out just by listening.

Then every morning he would bring in donuts, preferable Krispy Crème that Mr. Donuts (?) He would offer it to everyone but I wouldn’t dare touch it, I just don’t like eating his food. Maybe at the back of my mind I’m scared getting so big like him. He’s really obese, he walks like a penguin, and I’m guessing he doesn’t fit in the revolving door anymore. But he’s a nice guy. It’s just funny observing him and listening in on his telephone calls. As one girl office mate would say it, “ang ligalig niya”.

in the stillness of the night, i can hear you breathing
amidst the roaring of the a/c i can feel your heart beating
... slowly...
reminding me of the angel sleeping in my arms (yes, you are real)
... i cud see your smiling face in the dark (faint glow of the dancing candles
reveals your elegance)
... i was filled with great delight, with your presence (lingering
... as still as the stars in the night.
... hence, these sheets...
covering our nakedness from the four corners of the room
wrapping ecstacy with every part of it
a sole witness (except for the pillows, the candles, the hissing a/c)

... of one night's eternal bliss...


*safriati & psyche23 *

I was waiting for the company shuttle at a gasoline station this morning. I pulled one of the chairs of the convenient store and sat even without ordering anything. There were only a few chairs so some customers were standing, but they’re really not eating or anything, they were also waiting for something like me. but then something got my attention, seated infront of me was a couple. Judging by their clothes I definitely say she’s a saleslady in SM and he’s a messenger aboard a motorbike. The guy brought with him some puto and kutsinta and the girl bought coffee on styro from the convenient store. Let’s just say they’re not really a pretty couple, though the girl is fair, but the guy…hmmm he’s very dark, short and pimply. Plus he was wearing a red jacket on a hot morning and drinking hot coffee so imagine the sweat trailing down from his hair to his face, and his forehead, now continue imagining the smell J Anyways, seeing that her boyfriend (I say boyfriend because they don’t have wedding rings…but come to think of it, most couples don’t usually keep a wedding ring especially during trying times.) So her boyfriend was sweating like a bull, you know what she did? She wiped the boyfriend’s forehead with her palm (pimples and all), Some may find it yucky and unhygienic but I found it very sweet. Most people doesn’t know the wonders of tissue paper yet, and seeing the sweat trickling down his temples she acted on instinct, on compassion, on caring, and on love.

I guess I was filled with the emotion that I wished I had the guts to act on instinct too, even on a public place. To see an emotion as raw as that and right up to my face, who wouldn’t feel anything? That was the real meaning of PDA, showing affection; not showing desire through kissing and lust through groping.

But I must say, the Regine-Ogie thingy that I saw on tsismis yesterday overwhelmed me. They really seem to be in love. And I am happy for them (feeling close?). The way Ogie publicly admitted he loves her, and how Regine also publicly acknowledged her love for him and saying that their relationship is very important to her. It’s like a begging statement to the press saying don’t try to break us up, please… And during the concert of Ogie where Regine went to watch, they had their first public kiss, twice. Yeah I know it’s corny and all but they really looked so inlove. Anyways, I wish them well.

So the thing is, Love is still essential to our lives. Regardless of looks and the status quo… every bit of affection showing is, I must say courageous, and insticntive. And I wish for myself, to be able to do those things and not be ashamed. Not continuously looking over my shoulder aware of the prying eyes.

So, the saleslady and the messenger couple rode off in his red motorcycle, he dropped her off at the overpass going to SM. When the girl got off, she went back and gave him a hug and a quick kiss. I smiled. I wish they could stay like that for the rest of their lives.

I finally finished my screenplay.It took me more than a month to finish it and a lot of criticisms from friendly friends. I've been forcing my friends to read my work and comment on it so I would know if i can make it as a writer. Bev would just comment on the story and I appreciate all her good comments, including Lui's. Then here comes cabingabang and bordador. I actually like that cabingabang really took her time to read my works and comment on it bit by bit, it makes me dense to the comments of other people. But through her opinions I revised my story to make it more acceptable and beliavable. Then bordador made fun of my dialogues, i was irritated of course because she laughed when she didnt even read it yet. She told me i was better writing essays and blogs because it's real and it's not OA, unlike my "fictional" stories. That I should not write profane words because it's bad lit... hmmm.

Synopsis:
Two lovers, Ortigas and Shaw, are in a room going through the process of breaking up. As their conversations about their reasons are said, we are taken back to the time where they first met, their first conversation, their first date and their first kiss.

Unknown to them, Shaw is currently involved with Ortigas' brother. The reason why Ortigas was breaking up with Shaw. To not hurt the brother. Shaw was trying to persuade Ortigas to forget about the brother and stay with her instead, continue their relationship.

And, oh. Ortigas and Shaw are girls.

"A great love story is a great love story no matter what gender is involved" - Piper Perabo

Anyways, here's my story. Judge it. I don't care. Sa Susunod Na Lang Tayo