"Oh Paula, you've stolen my youth"

"I don't want to love you, I don't want to take you back. I want nothing, nothing at all. I'm on my knees and my back is broken, I don't want to hear anything about it...You hurt and offended me and as I had told you, we don't love each other anymore, we never loved each other."



"Each day I wait for you."

Don't fake me with your pearly smile

Treat me like a real friend and be honest with me, for a minute. Why are you doing all that crap? Why are you acting like such a goody-goody kiss ass? Is that the way for people to like you? What's in it for you, anyway? To be accepted as status quo dictates? Because between you and me, I think you are acting like a complete idiot. You tell me that you are annoyed by this person, and I even hear you rant to someone else about that person's bad habits, but you act way too nice in front of that person. You nose around people and surround yourself with nonsense gossip.


It's your behavior you should be worried about. Look at yourself, don't you find all this alarming? Unless what you are doing is totally intentional.


And I am warning you, don't run me over and drag me in your mess.


I am not falling for your bullshit.

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Sober on open bar

It never fails to amuse me how extroverts manage to stay hyped roughly 900 minutes each day. How do people who claim themselves as being the 'life of the party' keep themselves smiling all the time without being concerned with their own personal struggles. 


Does it have something to do with not getting enough attention?
How long do they actually say that they are enjoying this act and confirm that it doesn't border on pretentiousness already?


Sometimes being someone like that is such a burden because you can't shift moods and become a downer to everybody. There is so much to put up front that showing the littlest hint of vulnerability is the greatest disaster. Oversight leads us to conclude that they are not carrying pockets full of shitload and everything is just easy for them and they simply don't understand what sadness means. At the end of a party when everybody goes home, do they feel refreshed that they've kept people spirits up or do they end up being shot with the reality of things?

Defining Absolute Freedom

11/12/2011 Six feet under

I could still imagine how disastrous my first pool session went. I felt cold and dizzy. Drowning and dying. Panicking underwater felt like it was end of the world for me. Starting out has never been this hard for me and water has never been my element. For some reason, I grew up becoming afraid of the bathroom shower. So it was depressing going home after and accepting my fate as a frustrated water baby.


Resignation from the course obviously looks like the easiest solution to this because I could save myself from mental and psychological impact. Somehow, it was my teacher/coach's words and my classmates' encouragement that are telling me to calm down, take my time, and try again.


Hopefully, I will become an underwater buddha by the end of this year. 


Calm in withstanding external and internal pressures and steadfast in enduring it all until I reach full nirvana.


Let's see how this goes.

11/01/2011 Spellbound

She had the perfect words to describe what love is. Lesbian love, in particular. Its been awhile since something moved me and kept me up during twilight. I was never an insomniac but I was absolutely mesmerized and nostalgic by Adrienne Rich's 21 Love poems. 

No one’s fated or doomed to love anyone. The accidents happen, we’re not heroines, they happen in our lives like car crashes, books that change us, neighborhoods we move into and come to love. 

Tristan und Isolde is scarcely the story, women at least should know the difference between love and death. No poison cup, no penance. Merely a notion that the tape-recorder should have caught some ghost of us: that tape-recorder not merely played but should have listened to us, and could instruct those after us: 

this we were, this is how we tried to love, and these are the forces they had ranged against us, and theses are the forces we had ranged within us, within us and against us, against us and within us. 

Reading it while Devendra Barnhart's Korean Dogwood plays is enough to let my heart swim in bittersweet symphony. All these words cling to me like an armor of strength. There is hope.


I have to make it. I have to make myself okay. 


Because I still have to meet you.

10/29/2011 Onstage a circus freak show

The end of misery is near. I could feel it. 


I fell down and I couldn't stop crying. Devastation has left me a series of breathless sighs. I wanted the whole word to crumble down with my fall, but it took a step back, distancing itself as if I have mad cow disease. Farther and farther away, watching me in isolation.


Then a strange light caught my eye. Attractive enough to force myself in keeping the gaze straight through. Its rays are soaking my pain away.


I get up. I stand. I run the show. 


No one wants dead air.

10/05/2011 Nothing but my rusty old bed

Isolation.

No one digs deep enough to save you. 

No one listens.

10/01/2011 Embracing Aurora's raw emotion

My soul just turned fat. Slowly digesting the pages of Isabel Allende's Portrait in Sepia, I have finally found a friend to relate the sentiments a wallflower like me have. There is truth and emotion to the things I observe, and frustratingly there's only one pair of eyes to understand and be moved by such life. 


Now I understand why I have short attention span and have a hard time being engaged and maintaining eye contact with people. Maybe it had something to do with my mind wandering endlessly. Eyeing every nook and cranny. I suddenly want to go into investigative journalism. Be out there and rock like a bohemian gypsy, captivated by the massiveness of the earth, air, and sea. Show people's bullshit but witness their happy stance. 


I hope that in time people would see the things I see and listen to the fire in me.

09/27/2011 Refuge outside Pedring's eye

I should keep a safe distance from walking into anxiety's lair. Today is another rainy day and being confined to the comforts of this house is enough to push me into depression. Again. I am deciding to take a slow pace in all the changes I'm going through. Drowning myself in a three-month old red wine and unfinished books seems like a good idea. Trying to develop an underground culture of sorts and letting my mind wander to things I should do and things I haven't done. 


How to close the gap from here to there is still unknown. It's hard to understand what it means for things to fall into place. 


There are happy days. There are sad days. 


Right now feels like an inch close to melancholy.

9/16/2011 Fell down the rabbit hole

Teka teka. Panibagong pilosopiya na naman to. Ano ba ang problema ng tao?
Ang hindi makuntento sa isang simpleng ideya at kelangan nilang maging salungat dito kahit hindi pa nila nakikita kung papaano ito mangyayari.


Simple lang naman ang maging curious sa isang bagay. Bakit dumadating sa pagiging kumplikado at lahat ng tao sa balat ng lupa ay merong opinyon sa isang walang kwenta-kwentang bagay. 


Wala tuloy gustong magcompromise.


Sayang.

09/04/2011 Between passions and tempers

My mind is dancing with despair. Walking a thin line between letting go of the anger and moving forward. I have to let it go. Somehow, right? I want to finally be able to get eight hours of good and untroubled sleep without resorting to prescription pills. But I'm afraid, I've been a bit anxious to see the circus act roll out before me. 


While I find myself sleeping in complete wakefulness, my mind runs on this horseshoe treadmill driving me with strange ideas and open-ended stories and it doesn't know when and how to stop. It drags me down in consciousness, the very existence of my mortality. It keeps bragging me with things I am unable to do due to my current circumstances. It keeps competing with my bitter soul.


Truthfully, it has become intimidating. 

8/31/2011 Fucking Aldous Huxley's head

Only four years in the corporate world and I, the bait, have plunged myself into this trap. What Aldous Huxley calls a domesticated sitting-addict. What we could refer to as corporate slave. Don't get me wrong. I like my job and the people in it.

But 13 years of school to achieve sitting-addict stardom and be brainwashed by the evils of consumerism?!?! Pretty silly, don't you think?

I could not believe I have been resorting to this kind of dogma. Everybody thinks it's the way to go. Here I am unable to disagree with their heads. That doesn't seem right.

Survival of the fittest. Does it really matter?

Where is that free thinker inside me?

Let go

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MFMsx_LS6Yg

8/21/2011 ASYLUM

Embracing this journey is tougher than it seems and as lonely as you fear it would be. Here you are innocently looking for the intangible, yet you find yourself purchasing every tangible thing you can get your hands on. 

I am starting out a gypsy manifesto, to ride against the current of daily bullshit. I want to be completely honest about ideas and visions. It's hard to stay quiet all the time. If I keep my silence, I'll blow up.