We made it to the championship! Although the results of today’s game is perfectly heartbreaking, let’s remain proud of the UST Basketball Team. The terrific roar echoes as long as the Thomasian spirit lives within us! Congratulations La Salle. Thank you, UST!
But the stars we could reach were just starfish on the sea
Certain performances of the stars like tonight remind me of the quite amount of travel I have done. I am thinking of the recent villages I have passed by, at this little stop alone beside the tree. I look back at the stories they have told and the stories they have created. Here, I find myself recognizing that the more travels there are, the more there is to remember. Pretty much deserves a look back, before in a little while, there’ll be more hills to climb.
Troublesome, or dysfunctional would be just ways of seeing it. But the reality is ambiguous in every interpretation. Much as the vagueness of the young people of today. Some would want to contain them in a definition, but here is a depiction of youth that defies to be defined, or to settle in standard given to them. The resistance, even deconstructing the term they helped construct in the eyes of men. Today, is when the accumulation of 20th century ideologies find themselves in a convention in the eyes of the youth. The capitalists feed them this and that, the values tell them to look here and not there. But it better be reasonable. It better be logical and realistic. Otherwise, it will be ignored.
They co-exist with the society, nonetheless they can disagree with society. Under the streetlights of the night, the cigarette smoking youth travels to the neon bars at night. Smiling and dancing with the play of the vinyl, they define their own meaning of life. Against the suggestion of the system to earn in order to live. Authentic life with the lens of art. They swarm together with the stream, but they can see what most of the crowd would rather not see. Troubled with love, they turn to poetry. Inside the iron cage of urbanity, they travel to sanctuary. They read, they saw, they listened, and so they wrote, they filmed, and sang. Weed smoking and premarital sexing in the dark, their parents would not notice. There is no revolt, or even rebellion to begin with, just the accumulation of the impact of the systems. And so they draw the line of difference, the invisible group within the group. Not united, but led to the same path. This is just a result, another construct.
And so they are capable of utilizing every possible thing in this generation. Material and non-material objects that adheres to their taste. Well, they say here are the copy-cats of the Beats, the Hippies, the Punks, the Hip-hop, or even the Grunge. But beyond these words are the psychedelic lines where the late adoption creates a new face of cool. But what new does that generate? View this generation outside of its box, in the very strings of its time. And see if you can answer what modernity has done to pave way for this form of post-modernity. Before you evaluate the worth of this youth, look past the mankind of the mainstream. Hear the cries for individual freedom. Thus, choose a side. I dare. And I dare again. Which would you rather be?
Think of it as some sort of fire that I never want to let go of in instances such as this. I have been in this evil triangle of the Oceans before and I know. I have seen this omen, I were to get past the constellations and sit above the gods of Olympus. But thousand more sword swings to go to let sweet death consume this Titan. I am bruised, but I am not gasping yet. Bathing on my blood, but I am not yet finished, I am devoted. The pantheon has spoken, bring me more action.
Fuck the Romans, I ate the Trojans beyond their comprehension. I never really cared about achieving greatness but this demigod might just need to shake the ground of this Earth. May it bring fear unto, Jupiter, and make Mercury deliver to me the golden aura my divinity deserves.
I wrote something about you in a piece, turns out what I wrote about you is your piece in me. I never really thought about the glimmer in the windows of your soul, until I closed my eyes and felt its stare at me. There is really no magic but the spirit of mystery encircles me upon my beats jumping for a skip when I hear your voice. And when I feel I am the prey of my emotions, I run away. But the truth of the matter is, the quiet oceans between your continent and mine, carved the abrupt map that leads to where you established your empire in the most untraveled valleys of my mind. And there I found you reign, sipping on your golden cup. Dancing, and smiling, negotiations will cost me a sanity. In a wordless happenstance, you caught me.
I wonder if she knows the meaning of the word break. I know I do. I can see the edges from the rift in both of our reality’s canvas. We walk along the same streets, but my travel goes beyond her measures. I heard the sound of what I feel overwhelming any possible sound with its slow deconstructing fracture. I listened to the trembles of the walls in the place where I kept her, there where she play a part in my life. In breaking was when the aroma of sour rejection introduced itself to me. Its stench crawl to the sheets of my bleak guts. Every time she pass by my thoughts creates a fissure, I can taste this nasty and unforgiving fate. It slits the poison to what I am holding on to, the odds never served me plateful of favor. She breaks me and I can feel the burst, the loudness of breaking releases the cold wind. I shiver in helplessness, I traveled to make the Himalayas kneel, yet in this far journey, my road ends with her simple words that break me.
In my mind I walked a concrete path. But with every footsteps, the ground felt more brittle. The coldest wind blew, underneath my feet a bridge of ice. The power wasn’t in my hands, it was in the music in my words that you never got the chance to listen to.
I am hung up between my dream of you last night, and the torture waking brings. Lost in translation, my fingers tremble with fear that I may never ever get as close to you as that. I have long anticipated that possibility, however, I can never escape the memory of euphoria you brought in my dream, there where I sat beside you, there where you and I talked almost endlessly. When I woke up I heard a beautiful melody, I looked beside me and there was no one there to dance with, not even you. I’m sitting here at home, but it does not feel the same, not when yours are thousand universe wide away from mine. I wish these words can cover up this version of life and travel me to another reality where you and I met exactly at the right position in fate’s string of time. Just so I do not have to go on today and fear of dreaming of you again tonight, in another story, in another plot. There is this fragility in last night’s dream, I hold it so carefully, like how I held myself carefully away from my last recall of your smile. You are not impossible to touch, but the path has always been divine to walk across. I wish before my ink runs out, through this silent conversation I had in mind, I could bid you goodbye, but I think our goodbyes have ran out, set even before I had a chance in ink, impossible even in dreams.
We took the chance to take a pause from the scourge of urban reality, and took ourselves to a place where peace embraces the flowers and the trees. Every second was worthwhile, especially when every inch is worth remembering with our loved friends. It was such a reminder that we are not alone, and we are just simply vulnerable human beings. It was humbling, nonetheless it was strengthening. Life drives by so fast, we tend to forget to place the events in our lives where they belong. While this one right here, here is one of the happiest days we have witnessed in life. Here is where we took a deep breathe and felt good about it. Here is where we spoke and got listened to. Here is where we stood by each other’s side, and had fun. We may forget about the exact conversations, the taste of the warm coffees, the sound of the laughter and fall of tears, and forget about the chronology of what transpired in that place, but I do not think we can ever forget that once in our lives our bliss and anguish united, and fit perfectly at the right time in our youth. A beautiful memory to carry until our hair turn into strings of gray.
Absolutely, you are gorgeous. And I do not think I’ll stay in line just to say something you’ve heard a million times before. Because to me, you are the definition of insanity that took form in the most beautiful way possible that this world cannot stand for such reality to exist. You should taste like diamonds if your perfection takes too long. Your kiss is such a sin, I do not want to miss one chance. I want to have you all night until father sun declines to shine. How come the devil in you is the only woman I have ever dreamed of? How come you must be thousand ways away? And now that I have met you, too late at these hours of your life, there is nothing I can say that you couldn’t have heard, there is nothing I can do that you could not have seen. This is too cliche, but it feels too good to be true to be lost in your eyes. But I will still take you away, I will still paint up colors for you, make it summertime everytime. I will not stay in line, I will love you and rob you from these men. I will take your hand, and let you do what you do. Get crazy, stay insane, cross the line, lose our minds, I will build us a magic land and fulfill our story with consummation. No more drugs for me, you will be my religion.
I was just dreaming that someday I want to be that person who does not really give a damn about the shallow notions some people have. There is always something beyond what it seems, and I just hate it when people prefer to just abide to what they were taught to be. That is, without even challenging or even asking themselves if it was truly adequate in the first place. I do not like it when some of us only care about is this credential-ism. It is all about good looking, well decorated profiles. Shut up because so what if that person’s got high grades, drives a supreme car, and well dressed in clothing. Stop for a second about giving a damn about achieving high social status, showing off luxurious items, and shitty things most people in this world socially constructed for you to believe that is beautiful. It sucks to think that most people died without even noticing it. And some of them even have the guts to dictate what is wrong and right. Pathetic, without even knowing that it’s just a manifestation of continuous competition with other humans. Just an emblem of status, convenience as a purpose is just the tip of the ice berg. Someday, I just want to be that person who will not listen to someone in prejudice when they take up a degree in a rarely-heard-of-major just because that person might not receive a decent job that is according to my our standards. I promise to try and not look down on someone deemed with low morale just because that person is aesthetically, economically, educationally, or intellectually not fit for the standards of the people around him. The societies, they are socially constructed, bitches. The times, they are changing, and soon, this young generation we call ours will later on be guardians of morale just because the new kids are tearing apart this paradigm we believed to be true. So what the hell, let that kid with an ugly stance puff that cigarette and let him die as he please. Your big ass corporations are selling death anyway, and your so tough government is letting it for profit, so let them indulge in that death this bullshit society is offering. Come on, parade your son-in-law, that glorious monument of a well purposed man, refined by education and underwent reinforcement of your society’s values and beliefs. Suck on those shiny gold watches and die with it.
Pause for a moment, and have a look on fatalism. The very word for it, I believe is the word “inevitable”. Tell me any theories you know, or opinions you have, but I’d still stand on my belief that the word for this is still “inevitable”. Whatever, but the thing is, if you are a little bit down the road today, or in other terms, you are fucked up big time in the contemporary, you might not want to know the consequences that the future will present. A different outlook however on the other side. If you are at the top of your life right now and feel like you are on the right track, if you are really up there and feeling the great side of life, then probably you have the confidence to expect that maybe the tides will bring forth good things. But let’s put in fatalism here and the great hero Filipinos call Batman. Some days, I was thinking that Batman should be the Filipino pop culture’s patron saint for fatalism. That’s when you put in optimism in the darkest side, and the benefit of the doubt on the well-fulfilled life. Is it really about “what’s meant to happen, will happen”? I might as well join Juan Tamad over there and wait for the fruit to come down, besides, Newton had it for free. This might sound nonsensical to you but since you’re reading it you might as well carry on, I just came up with this; so if people do have gravity as a factor of fate, that people possess a natural gravity for the possible phenomenon that could occur to them, then maybe, there’s a chance that we can alter the direction of our life. Every action we do now garners us a determined result in the future, thus your action now will be recorded in the past later. But see we have our brains to function for us, later, we might just be able to do another action that will rig up the determined fate we were set to have, thus alteration of possibilities…..again. I’m starting to think that every time, we alter the possibilities of our fate, but we compete with the actions of other people as well and the universal naturals like weather, asteroids, and things like that. Which to me is true, like even if I head out too early to go to class, but if the actions of a drunk driver fucks up the traffic, then I should pretty much expect all my classmates in their seats staring at me the moment I open the door and find a possible chair to sit. So can I escape my fate? I’ve stood my theory on a sociological standpoint, but I can not still cross out that maybe I am just swimming on life’s river, and it does not matter if I swim left or right, the current will dictate where I go. The endless struggle of human being is, i do not know if it is a curse or not, that people will always remain looking for clues on what the future might hold, thus they act upon these clues. Interpret these symbols and base their possible acts upon it. Meh. I do not know, I babble most of the time, these opinions I have might need academical basis, so do not listen to me. If it’s remotely true or not, I’ll end up this post with a lingering, “Who knows, maybe”.
It is the pause of the world whenever I marvel on the outlines of her curves. There were shores, and arched landscapes, and those hold moments of my momentary bliss. This is no tale of lust, but a phenom of wonder. In the most simplest expression, I attest. She is beautiful, in my eyes. An epoch of perfection and I bear witness.
It does feel good to meet people that I can actually look up to. I’ll always learn everyday, I know. I will never know enough. One time was,those minutes with that girl. Woman, actually. I sat beside her, and she showed me how much I do not know. And that was enough to make me see the rest of my life in a different way. Imagine that split second that made a difference. I learned that I was not anything better than a non-existing matter in this world. I’ve actually met great people in my life. I’ve worked with great employees, I’ve been taught by great professors, and I’ve been friends with great students. This is one of the rarest time that I’ve finally acknowledged their calibre compared to what I can do. Impossible in my eyes, but feasible in their actions.
So I am back to the basics. I guess 2013 is just a turnaround for me. I’ve been away from the social media sites the whole summer because I served as an intern in the Recruitment-HRD of Cebu Pacific for quite some time. It changed me, a little of the whole of me. I actually miss the place and the people, but of course life carries on. In school, I did not actually expect anything new but the mere fact that it’s going to be my last year as an undergraduate college student, it must be my last year. I faced a lot of challenges this year, some I was able to overcome, some I just witnessed fading away. So I went back to the basics. I tried to erase the notions I have about myself, including the ones that other people have about me. Aspects where I am good or horrible at does not matter to me for now. Reconstruction. Re-learn what I have to learn, rejuvenate the side of me that came up dead lately, and most importantly, be more open to see and integrate more lessons. So here I am, not caring about the progress of other people, my attention is all to myself for now. To those who knew me six months ago might probably not be able to recognize who I am now when they see the visions and perspectives I have in mind right now. I may not be any better from who I was before, but I will be.
Isang araw kung saan tanghali na nagising. Kumilos ng kaunti at lumabas ng bahay upang pumunta sa nais patunguhan. Sumakay ng pampublikong sasakyan at naipit sa mabagal na pagusad ng trapiko sa kalsada. Ilang kilometro din ang layo sa hantungan. Ilang oras din na nakaupo lamang, tunganga, at walang silbi sa sinuman. Ilang beses din dumaan ang mga sari’t saring saloobin. Buti pa ang mga ideya, malayo ang nararating sa kurso ng utak. Huli na rin ang lahat ng makarating sa dapat puntahan, wala nang ibang dapat gawin kundi ang bumalik sa pinagmulan. Nagsimula ulit ang biyahe pauwi, at nakasalubong nanaman ng tadhana ang pagkaipit sa mabagal na usad ng trapiko sa kalsada. Umusbong ulit ang daloy ng mga wari wari, kung minsan ay humantong pa sa pag-iisip ng wala. Parusa, parusa pala ang ganoon. Kaya walang isang banda, walang magandang dulot. Walang silbi, miski sa sarili. Nakauwi ng bahay at kumilos ng kaunti, at natulog. Tinangap nalang ang katotohanan.
Today is actually when I went out for my morning jog for the first time again in three weeks after injuring my right shoulder blade. I even went to the gym right after, and while I was listing up my name on the counter, the owner suggested that I buy their new tank top release which might mean that they need extra income, because let’s face it, people rarely visit the gym. I bought one, so I wouldn’t have to blame myself in the future if I don’t have any gym to work out in, in the future. Haha! Look how horrible it fits me!
Anyway, I hope Miami wins today! Burn, Spurs, burn!
So I have this pact to myself that I will not drink, smoke, or even hang out with friends this week. The philosophy behind it is that, I actually have been doing these things quite moderately on a regular basis, so since it’s Holy Week, I kind of want a different phase for a while. It’s really that hard when one is used to the the beautiful setting of eating lots and lots while the sun sets in order to cope up with a sleepless night from the streets or somewhere, and even that gracious sleep that follows, waking up in the afternoon to rehydrate, then the cycle goes on. Life is too good with kush, alcohol, cigarettes, and lust, but I just want to remind myself that it’s not the only source of happiness as we call. The experience is insane though, when everyone is free from their work, and they’re releasing these expensive alcohols from their closet and having a good time, while I try to convince myself that this poster of Georgina Wilson in my room is not seductive at all. So I can not take it, I do not know how Jesus was able to manage to get through this situation, but I do not think I can. Tomorrow night, I’ll grab a beer, light up, and fckn sleep like a baby. Fck this.
She bursts in his life without any warning. If he had any chance to know, he would have sprayed a little shine on his hair today, or would have worn his best shirt. But instead, she comes along when his day is filled with bad morning coffees, and the oily face of tension. She stuns him like a bullet that hit the chest. Her sight is serendipity, but his feet is too tied on the ground, his lips feel so heavy to speak. He’s got Achilles’s guts, but this woman’s got grab on his weakest heels. He believes that this is that point in time when countless pretty faces does not matter, it’s just that her sudden appearance is already sweet resolution. He wonders if she would one day dream of kissing him as well, but that is until the day she recognizes his insignificant existence in her life. Her unparalleled beauty glimmers in their distance and in their adjacent moment. But if he could only hold her tender skin, if he could only keep her arousing aroma locked in his palms, if he could, oh if he could, but only if he has the right to do so. In the slices of seconds, he snap back to reality. She departs in his life with fair warning. If he had any chance to know, he would have chosen another path, to even have an opportunity to evade such cruel feeling. He walks on, and here he goes again, scarred but unprepared for the unexpected.
There is a pavement from across the corner, and what I feel is written all over it. I have to admit, I make the wrong choices, I decide the bad turns that they might cause me. I have tried to tell a story about pain, I have wanted it to be put into words brick by brick. But I may be the man who can write my verses in cursive curses, but I cannot ever draw the melancholy that time can only subside. I am not lost, I just chose to be on the roughest side of the road. But whether I subconsciously wanted to pay this price or not, I might never know. Million words, and one emotion. There’s a dead end to my writing, after all.
I want to discern every letters in your name. I’m interested in the spaces between the float of the diacritics in its characters. I want to know what lies beneath the surface of its concrete. I want to see the composition of every sound, and as to why it triggers an exact computation of emotions in my head. The travel in the airwaves, and its lingering shock upon reception. What are the truths and the lies under the veil of your alphabetic identity? What is it, in the rhythm of those letters that holds a psychedelic sting, my eyes could not ever see? Your name and its stagnant state, pulling me, acquiring gravity to shake my heart to run a thousand slates. Your name and its mobilized caress, softens the great walls of my defense. I want to take you to the galactic space, and find if your buoyancy will lead you back to me. The outlines of your name shines bright in neon lights, in my head I resort to your darkest district. In the blackest of night, my neurons drifts, and arrives at the edges of the paleographical form of your name, its edges playing from the crust of my memory. And by the morning, I could never escape the automated burst of the patterns of phonemes bursting from my lips. I want to figure out your uniqueness from the challenge of your name, and finally figure out the constitution of its somatosensation in the very core of my indecisive system.
I don’t feel like myself lately. It’s been two weeks and I can’t seem to function the way I usually do. I think I can count the factors, but I could not figure out how to runaway from this labyrinth. It’s a vicious cycle, and at some point I’ve got to push the pressure back so I can breathe clearly in the coming days. Damn.
Ask me what do I know about love, and I might never know how to answer it. It’s that abstract for me. I only know what it does, keep us happy, or make us feel sad. I just think that people suddenly have that ‘you’ in their mind, when they hear about love. What is it, other than complete this certain space in our existence? What is it other than pile up thousands of explosions when it ends? Most of the time, people do not talk about it, most of the time people would not seem to care, but seems like they keep such thoughts buried deep in their mind. Deep, beneath the curtains of their self, there it is, maybe trying to keep it alive, maybe trying to find it.
With gestures that catalyzes emotions. With emotions that stirs up the feelings. Suddenly, there’s just that “you”, in control, whether it is existing or not. And that “you”, every move is a roller coaster. Is it love then, that turns the most simplest things to extraordinary memories? And from memories, an investment of subconscious notions? If people do know or can magnify the extension or measure the density of the word “hold”, then perhaps explaining the feelings we get from love is easier. That cohesiveness, that strength, that gravity, in every aspect of joy and pain. If comets have tails, then people have trails of feelings once when they love. When eyes meet, when hands hold, when lips touch, at our chests, an imaginary boulder of stone rhymes with every heartbeat, can you feel it, have you ever felt it?
There were moments we wish that should’ve lasted, and ones we wish we’ll never have to remember again. There were deafening silences, while other silences that meant the fucking world. Is it love then? Is it love then, when that person, either rationally or irrationally needs you? But is it still love when it does not compensate our subjective needs? Or would it be love, when after all the heartaches are over, our feet stands next to theirs?
I think it is uncertain, but people will always try to lock it in a frame. I think it will never be stagnant just like what people want. It’s a beast that people have to adjust to, as time passes by. I think it defies rationality, when we’re too stuck with what ifs, or too strong to hold on to pride. I think it might never be figured out, only tales of what it is.
I like you because you know how arrogant I could become. You know it could be the death of me, nevertheless it remains as a part of my strength. My credit is too bad for you, but then there you are. Singing me a song when my skies have fallen. Your voice, shattering the spaces in our distance. The soothing words you bring, eccentric. I like you because you know my reasons for my wrongs, and you’ve never challenged a bit of it. I like you because despite the smiling man in display for the world to see, you’ve always been the one to take care of the sad boy in me. And they’ll never understand me but you could. I could always run for the pursuit of happiness, I could always try the happiest things people would say, but you were the only one to tell me it’s all in the substance and never in the quantity. People got choices, right ones or not, but we’ve got to take note of the time.
Is that sensation that drives you to a stimuli. To act towards something, naturally. Itch is when I envision your face, and I sing a song. Itch is when we stay up all night, talking, and I’d never want to fall asleep. Itch is when I wake up in the morning, yearning for your hello. It is that something that hits me, and bring me to an involuntary response. Like when you look at me, and I can feel a slow sprint of goosebumps crawl all over my skin. Or when we’re too close and I feel the need to hold your hand. It happens when you tell me about your world, and it feels like I am sitting in a dream, a surreal involuntary satisfaction in you trusting me with its keys. Itch is when you cry, and I thirst for repainting the canvass of the world for you. Itch is when we are only breathes away, your thighs above mine, and that tendency to get rid of the notion that it will not last forever. Itch is that when we are thousand of spaces away, and I wish that may my gravity be dense enough to pull you back to my side. Itch is what I feel when I want to be with you. Itch is that annoying feeling of being incapable of getting rid of your pain. Itch is that defining sensation, that you could say, that I am totally, overly, definitely, insane over you.
I’ll grab a camera and take pictures of you. In candid, you remain to be the most beautiful thing I know. You’re most glamorous when we sit face to face in your bed, without any make up on, you are my galaxy of gorgeous. You’ll ask me which photos I admire the most, but I’ll never say a word. Your kiss is electric, but an eternal capture of you, will forever be ecstatic. Your every smile is power, a crossbow that shocks my heart. The touch that the softness of your skin brings, unparalleled by any other, with every photograph, let the joy of your presence be forever mine to hold. In this capture, your breathe, heartbeat, thoughts, and love, eternalized. A click, a moment to steal from the fibers of time, and a divine you.
These girls, they don’t compare to you. Most of the time, they’re smart, and pretty. But I look into their eyes and feel nothing. Most nights I get myself drunk and think about your latest text, the last time I saw you, the last moment I held your hands in mine. Most of the time, on my way to my world in school, on my way to my own world at home, I hope for your touch, the smell of your skin, the sweetness in your every kiss. When the cigarettes are over, I think about you. No one else actually, but you. I doubt if I’ll ever love again, yet my feelings lead towards where your heart is. I am happy in my life without being dependent on any woman, it’s the first time in seven years, but I itch on being beside you and nothing else. The world is vibrant, I wake up and it circles around me, I hear their laughter and cries, but yours are the only ones I care about. I could get myself to live by in this cities of life I have, but I could always fall back and lead into the light that yours can only bring. I am a runaway of love, I have long abdicated my position in its constellations, then one day your gravity began to be my only string. You are the only side of the moon I would never ask to fall down. Yet where I am is trillion light years apart from the reality of our fate. So I guess I could do anything for you, fight til my last drop of blood falls for you, I will miss you until another sun sets us apart, but I could never ask you to be mine.
This afternoon the sunset was fucking beautiful. I feel like I am living a good life. A question popped in my mind though, and I don’t seem to have figured out an answer. Do I fear death? I have fears that are related to death, however I do not think if I fear death itself. I think that death itself is self explanatory. Why fear something I could not prevent? It will have its time in my life one way or another anyway. The thing that I am afraid of is dying without arriving at the end of my pursuit of happiness. I would not mind living short if deep inside me I have already felt content about my existence. If living long enough means witnessing the best days of my life fade, then that’s bullshit. I fear of not marrying the only right girl woman for me. I feel fine with not having someone briefly constant at the moment, because I could always meet them anytime, anywhere, but the thing I cringe the most is not having that one who will understand my puzzles and stay. I want that time when I’ll have that someone I will change my entire life for, and breathe my running seconds for the better. I fear of dying by my own sins and leave my sons and daughters behind. I want to be there for them, in every damn inch they need help for, I will do my best. I want to live those days. I guess, I do not fear death itself but only its consequences. I am bit not afraid of the pain it brings, but the compromise it might demand from me. There’s nothing complicated about the concept of death, I think its constitution is plain and simple. And if that time comes, let there be no refusal, but heavy braveness and might.
So this day ended pretty well. It was very fun when I started it! A little drop of drama though. But it’s less than quarter to February 5, so technically I am hours away from a new day, so voila smile up bitches! I have a feeling that tomorrow’s gonna be a hell of a fun because I will write research papers and a thesis proposal all day and I do not even mean that sarcastically. It’s been a rough week and thank goodness tomorrow it would be such a delight to worry about nothing but only damn papers. Never in my life have I thought of writing academic materials as one of my means to relax, but hey hey hey! It’s a good breather actually, because I have a feeling that when I finish these papers I will finally have the confidence again to say that I am indeed smart and handsome. Because, well I got to stick to the truth. Haha! I also can’t wait for this week to be over so that I can finally read a book already. Anyway, I think it’s good enough that I’ve let myself go dwell on my dramas for three days, but one way or the other I gotta take chances on making things right whenever I feel I have the opportunity to do so. There’s no use playing weak, deal the cards so I can rape this motherfuck of a game. Ka-pow!
Today is when I intentionally submitted a mediocre thesis proposal. I honestly had the time to do it, and that I am intellectual enough to make changes on the obvious stupidity I have written before, but it is just that, when I woke up today, I felt like I am not prepared for anything. It was the same scenario as yesterday when I attended school for the first time again. I have been gone from school for almost 10 days, and my family only noticed a half of it. Maybe I was just used to the life I’ve been living for the past few weeks, I do not know. Most of the time I feel like carrying a pack of cigarettes and sneak to our rooftop and witness the night sky just like how I used to recently almost every weekend. Or maybe this weekend is ugly because I am heartbroken. It’s been almost a year since this familiar feeling. I honestly thought I will never feel it again, since I have learned to detach myself from my trusting emotions. But I guess, there goes Derik. I remember how happy my life was the past few months, I felt invulnerable to anything, I can feel power running through my veins. But today is different. It was the first time again after so god damn long that I felt my system asking me to stop from doing anything. Or maybe it’s just that I haven’t had sex for a couple of weeks. Or that I have stopped visiting the gym. My emotions are controlling me again, but I have a lot of patching up to do. My life wasn’t much of a mess two weeks ago, but shit just got crazy. It’s a little bit like DeVotchka’s “How it ends”. Why I felt this surrender again after a long time, I would never know tonight I guess. I’m done figuring out if it’s psychological, or if maybe it is astrological, but definitely it is not sociological. Maybe I am going crazy because I could only feel little of everything, but mostly I feel blank and ecstatically crazy like a hipster’s rap music video. Haha, fucking cleaning up is messed up as fuck.
For me, there will always be that part when shit just got to break out. Fuck the manner of saying it, damn the decency. Just a fucking hard fist, a troubled mind, and there we go. Darn the fucking rules, some just need something to oppose. Somewhere deep inside, there’s a catcher in the rye. And the glock fires out to the shade. Ambitions, life, and love. Let it tear us apart. Booze, cigarettes, drugs, and sex. Let it wear us out. Young muscles, far from the past generations’ oblivion. Youth, we’ll never be our own kings and queens. Tough souls with knees shaking from the curtains that’s hiding the reality of life. Vulnerable and fresh, our mistakes in history repeat themselves. And if our parents and teachers hate us, then fuck those who freakin’ raised us. Find jackets, and the toughest pair of shoes, to runaway from the horrid torments in front of us. And run. Run and run. To find out even in the most impossible place to find on the surface of the earth, we will always have to return and fight back. Make 99 wrong decisions. We can taste our feelings drying our mouth. Teenage fire, teenage spirit, our teenage roar.
I guess that’s my motto from now on. I should always go for what I want. I realized that it seems to be the best way to live life.
Get what I want. Get what I want.
Insist on having it, and never let anything or anyone stop me from doing so. Especially, never let myself stop me.
Fear will be defeat crawling on my spine. Most of my decisions will be horrible mistakes, but I must never ever stop from trying to make the right ones. Aim, and hard work. I’ve got no choice, but to murder to excellence.
Get what I want, with no brakes. That’s the only choice from now on.
Most days you’re just as stubborn as a diamond. While most of the time you become the most clumsiest person you know. You whine all the time about the little problems that come along the way, and you get hungry so often that you could eat a boar to its bones. All these, as if I could never figure out your game of damsel in distress. But for some reasons I do not know, you always look pretty and sexy despite your lack of exercise. You seem to always be interesting regardless of the sleepless nights we have had. When most times when I do not understand, you will always look me in the eye and make me feel like home. There’s always something about what you don’t say that keeps me coming back. And although I am afraid to admit it, but I love it when you never have to say that you care, when you just come running and staying, and caress your fingers across my hands. I could never get tired of rushing to your room after my day ends, relieve you from the blankets and wake you up and we’ll talk about our day, or cook ourselves some dinner before I head home. And I will relentlessly play the beautiful sound of your voice in my head as I head myself to sleep. Just as how we met must be left untold, you’ve always been there to know about my bad credits. But you work it off and say “It’s okay, baby”. You and I could be the perfect mistake, but in my head it still sums to perfect sense. How did it ever get to this, I couldnt seem to figure it.
I could not ever get myself to avoid being by your side. You just made me wake up one day and let me know that you need me, and for some miracle, made me need you. And although I am a sucker for beautiful beginnings and a bad reputation of leaving things behind in the end, I could swear that whenever I wake up beside you, I most certainly feel the rest of my life to have just begun. So today I just honestly feel like protecting you from anything all the way. I just can’t afford to see you cry. And even though I feel too washed up, I think I could be your strength, because I am doing it for you. Today, and for the rest of the time you’ll need me.
2012 was kind of significant for the the Mabesa family, pretty much because of our dear and lovely lola whom we will always love and pray for, and lolo too of course :) Anyway, what follows are glimpses on what transpired in the recent year for us. But before that, check this out!
From three fucking years ago :)
Haha. Hilarious, I say.
Carrying on, here goes
Then two weeks later…
Happy New YEAR!
I would love to upload more, but I guess better keep those crazy photos for the only the family to see! Haha. Anyway, kudos to Lola and Lolo! We’ll love you both forever!
Through all my talk of self defeat, a fearful bomb ticks underneath
I will probably die by my own sins. At least that’s what I could tell. For some reasons, at least once in our life we wished that we will have a painless death, that is to sleep ourselves safely to the other zone. In about a million of moments, I thought of that as well. Truth be told, dying painlessly does not happen that easily. Now is that not ironic? While some people chose their death, some people did not, we however will not know how it will go down. The only thing most people can do is to visualize how their death must be dealt. Something sort of perpendicular to the thought of family planning, or wedding planning, a tradition that mankind has followed by the result of their perception of sentimental value, the grand and gloomy funeral. And regardless of the affairs of the world, the start of my existence must also be concluded, ended, limited, finished! In which I dare introduce a visual description on how my death could be delivered.
By the very moment my organs stop working, definitely new news has sprouted. However I sure do hope I do not turn into a mystical being such as a vampire or something as hilarious as that. This life of mine, the once living matter that has participated in the lives of many has now departed the category of the living. However the significance is not how many lives I have participated in, the truth is the substance of my death is on how many lives I mattered, but ultimately it is on how many lives I still matter. I am pretty much sure that my bestfriend in kinder will not receive the news, or on the hundreds of classmates I had, definitely an ample of five or six might just care to know. The news will first spread to those who witnessed my death as it usually does, maybe to the doctors or the police, and then to my immediate family, then to the dear embalsamador who will rip out my flesh off me, then the string of the news will flow from there in which I hope the fate of its tides will reach to the people I really cared about in my life.
Days later, there goes my wife, looking beautiful as she always does, trying to be courageous in this very dreaded moment in which as if the eyelids of her glamorous eyes were the last wall of strength to fight off the feelings she hold inside. This morning she wore her hair the way I would prefer it to be, just a satin gown without any make up looking perfect. Now as she’s all dressed up in the car she wore her hair tied back, just like the last time I consciously saw her while she was working on some work errands. The wheels stopped turning and she walked out of the car thoughtless in her mind, reality is a movie she’s just watching right now. People walked their way to greet her. This is the kind of moment when people will say anything that they deem comfortable, the funny business of exchanging hugs and kisses. It’s normal she thought, it becomes a routine, this was the same as yesterday and will definitely be the same reality tomorrow, the only probable difference is the faces of these people. They led her to the same corridor she left last night, as if the corridor has the capacity to ignite the fast beating of her heart. The seconds tick, she hates it, the elevator goes up, she wishes she never had to live to tell this tale. They have reached the floor, and another corridor, and by the moment someone opened the door for her, there she is, in a space with no walls but fences, waterproof sheets of fabric as its ceiling, the breeze touching her soft delicate face as she can feel it rumble across her hair. Christmas lights embrace the edges of the tent ceiling, and The Beatles fills the air. From where my wife stands she can see a buffet of snacks squared in the middle of the space, chocolate chip cookies and whatnot accompanied with non-alcoholic wines and brewed coffee for my guests. Picnic tables gather around the buffet in a rectangular manner, she designed this, because she knows I find the traditional church pews too boring and limiting social interactions within the guests. There are at least 4 bench swings facing the city, because frankly it reflects my love for relaxation. On the northern part of this rooftop is my coffin, adjacent to the fence my body is above the screeching cars of the living, away from their daily lifestyle, and problems. She walked to my body to greet me, and she knows that if only I was living I would kiss her softly and say that everything will turn out fine, but she knows it will never happen again so she looks up to the free sky and remember how I have always loved it, how I would climb mountains just to witness the blue sky turn dark and sparkled with stars, just as how I would do anything for her. The view of this rooftop is my last gift to the people I know, the sky, stars, sunrise and sunset, was never at all mine, but it sure is a scene to give. She poured herself a glass of wine, and she marvels at the sight of my sisters and cousins, nieces and grandkids, colleagues and friends, all gathered together. She knows that I might not have lived a famous life, but I never needed it anyway for I needed only her and them. She silently laughs because she still find me awfully handsome in my suit, in which was the reasonable option because I told her years earlier that I would either wear Hawaiian shirts and bermuda shorts for my beach funeral, or a rooftop funeral and be buried naked. Obviously she opted for the next best thing I like wearing, the very reason why my kabarkadas are wearing suits instead of being butt naked in front of everybody. Whether she and them had this decision to avoid a scandalous funeral, I would not know because I might have been in a coma while they’re at it. Nonetheless she smiles off the tears running down from her eyes, I used to be crazy just to make her laugh. She sat at one of the bench swings, thinking of the last time these people were gathered like this, something sort of perpendicular to our wedding, and birthdays. She smiles at my direction, asking me to enjoy this very last night my body will spend above the grounds of fair mother earth. Smile, she says, smile.
The dawn brought out the morning for everyone. Today is when people will have mixed emotions. My wife has arrived at the scene, and if she could just decently draw, she would picture it with people grouped together exchanging laughter and tears. The priest has arrived, the holy person that would wash off my disgusting sins. The mass made everyone bow their heads; it’s amazing how I can relatively make these people bow their heads before me with my death. And now my fleet of friends and relatives have flocked out of the rooftop and into the streets and amazingly travel with their cars in a chain like manner that mankind has labelled as a convoy, which also a truck by definition which my lowly humour finds funny that might just cause my dead body to hint a smirk. They step out of the cars and into the crematorium. What is interesting about today is that it concludes my physical existence in the world. It is when everyone will return to their respective lives and continue to live without me and kill my function in their string of interaction. And as they witness the flames crawl into the every sheet of my skin, their minds will flash with the memories I have had with them, in the good times and the bad, to the told and untold stories, this is where I end for them. Cry or laugh, this is the day of my final goodbye. For whoever, and whatever is beyond death, I might just prepare myself an introduction, and an explanation for the glamorous fuck ups I’ve done in my youth and of decent age, that is unless Saint Peter wouldn’t need to call my name. The best I can say is that I loved my life, even though how much I hated the people I obligatory have to meet. My life wasn’t meant to please anyone, it was meant to please me. And no matter how much of a distorted shit it turned out to be, just like this inconsistent story you are now reading, best believe I will stand up for it in the afterlife, if ever there is. And so a man with a collared white shirt walked up to my wife, in his hands is a marble white vase which he carefully passed to her. Everyone was silently looking at her, but she cared nonetheless. She placed the powder contained vase on a table, the crowd in wonder of her actions, she silently stared at the lid of my urn and smiled with extreme happiness for the fulfilment of my final wish. In her mind the music plays and the memory when I met her in a club in a tight dress, and told her at first sight I could picture her in a white dress. As she walked out of the room, the crowd awfully gathered to see what was on the lid. Awe mixed with laughter and disgust, on the lid was embedded the last deviancy I will ever get to do in life:
So I skipped ROTC again, for the second time because I am fucking tired. The truth is this morning I feel fucking frustrated because I can only skip ROTC for the last time next time that I do. Anyway, for the last two days I have been out of the metro attending a summit of Sociology majors in UST, a.k.a. Team Building Seminar, and actually it is my first time in three school years because I do not normally participate in social events like this. Haha! I gotta say it was fun and filled with activities. I was also able to see a little more of my classmates’ personalities, and finally recognize which of the ones I usually see in AB uniforms are sociology majors just like me. It was also awkward when there was an intimate activity where they ask us to write to someone who fucked us up in our stay in UST-Sociology, and actually I do not have anyone in mind to write to so it is a good thing the pen provided to me does not have a working ink so I just told the guy beside me that for crying out loud I will just stick the note to him. Since I am half introvert and extrovert, I do not usually engage in conflict with anyone, but heck of course I am fucking sure people in the class have negative opinions about me, however as it turns out I was not able to read any of them because no one wrote to me. Nonetheless I hope my classmates resolve the issues they have between themselves. In my opinion(no matter how it is not asked for by anyone but I’ll say it anyway), people will always have bad things to say against us, even divine beings have fucking critics, the thing is that those are opinions. Opinions somehow must somehow undergo right reasoning and objective emotion to become a proper judgment. If someone judges us in a wrong way for us, then judging them negatively as well for speaking out what they think, we won’t get anything better for ourselves. Haha! But fuck that shit man, it aint my problem. Hehe. My main concern is Manny Pacquiao winning today with a knock out, go Manny kick punch his fucking ass off the ring! Where are the ffcckk are my cheetos anyway!