Friday, December 27, 2013


1. Forgiveness is a gift you give yourself. It is something you owe yourself.
2. Patience has its own reward. The good things in life take time to unfold.
3. There's more to life than love. But really, more like, 'there's more to life than love from someone special'. Love is manifested in all facets of existence. Friends, relatives, pets-these exhibit love. There's no need for an intimate relationship to make yourself happy.
4. Be inspired. Make your dreams come true.
5. Work hard. Because really, inspiration is just imagination if you won't get up and make things happen.
6. Get used to being alone. Do not depend too much on anybody.
7. Take care of your health. You only have one body. Unless you have a clone or a doppelganger. Exercise. Eat healthy. Be healthy.
8. There's still too much to read. Get going and flip those pages.
8. 'Develop your faith dimension.' Because your faith is your ticket to salvation.
9. You have options. Carefully weigh alternatives before jumping in on any bandwagon. There are no turning backs in life, only forward gears.
Of course, I cannot claim the absolute from all of this. Some are mainly generalizations, mantras I've formulated for myself as I sailed my stormy 2013. I can claim though that I will carry these lessons as I transverse my following years in this planet.

Ikaw? What are your lessons this year?

Thursday, December 26, 2013

Wine for Noche Buena

Like seriously, that's what we had. Wine for noche buena. No sumptuous pasta dish. No chicken (or turkey if you prefer that). No cakes and cheeses. No sushi or teriyaki. No nothing. Just pure, sweet, red wine.

Not that we're killjoys or are grumpy old holiday haters but really, we're a poor bunch. No sour puss here though. After mass, Mom and I clinked our wine-filled mugs like bohemian artists on some European cafe and drank to our hearts content. Famished, not so much. But definitely contented.

Besides, who needs midnight calories? (Hashtag candy-coating). Merry Christmas boys and girls :]

Saturday, December 21, 2013

Post No. 281

I don't know. I just have this feel that what I'm doing is directionless. That I'm not really happy with how things are in my life. I feel lost. And lonely. Very lonely. Like the thought of dying on the street with nobody noticing. You're just there, laying in infinite oblivion and the hustle and bustle continues. Stamping on you. Trampling you. And you're too dead to react or even realize.

Sunday, December 15, 2013

Ruminations on Faith

After much deliberation, I realized that I do not hate God. I mean, seriously, the karma that will backfire at you for hating the supremo of the universe is unbearable so the thought of brewing thoughts against Him is something that I've trained myself to not do. Yes, I question God about the whys and hows of stuff that I'm going through but always with the confidence that He will answer me in the right time; in sweet, unknowing and unexpected ways.

Right now though, with the current health issues I'm battling, I think God is humbling me; that I am not invincible, that everything I do has a corresponding circumstance in the future, that I am nothing without Him. Maybe it took a considerable amount of contemplation before I realized these things, or maybe I've already had these thoughts and my current health status simply exponentialized everything.

But nonetheless, I am still grateful. For one, condition A is not life-threatening and a surgery is not necessary-for the moment, at least. And two, although condition B may develop into something serious (considering my family health history) I am grateful that I have a chance to maybe change things in the future by opting for a healthier lifestyle.

Right now though, my greatest weapon is in prayer; I'll put my trust in Him and just let Him do His magic.

Monday, December 2, 2013

Four Years Old and Counting

Like many blogging anniversaries before, here I am, utterly speechless; knowing what to say yet losing the words and the faculties of sentence construction to properly express what ought to be preached on this very special day.

I suppose a 'thank you' would not suffice, knowing that this is merely a speck in the universe of blogs and I cannot claim iconic subscription for something that's generally made up of personalized musings and issues. But to be honest, I think a 'thank you' is all that I can say.

To those who have read, to those who have commented, to those who have praised and criticized, and to those blogs I follow that have continually propelled me to continue this venture despite the many changes in the blogosphere, thank you. Thank you. And to Him who has given me this opportunity, thank You.

Cheers to more and more years guys :]

Monday, November 25, 2013

The Silence of Onyok

My school was fortunate enough to be given the chance to screen the critically acclaimed masterpiece, 'Boses' and despite my near-stampede experience upon entering the film's screening location, I would definitely say that it was all worth it.

'Boses' revolves around the mute and emotionally and physically abused Onyok who turns into a musical prodigy. More than just a story of a genius, it is a film that advocates against violence on children while cleverly weaving the power of forgiveness as the main ingredient in the process of healing.

Some scenes were a bit too calculated for my taste though, like the beach scene where Onyok slowly moves closer to his teacher to accompany him in a violin duet. I also wished there was more ruminations or realizations of greater truths for Onyok's teacher to heal his own broken heart (or I probably could have missed this part in the movie). But other than that, I was deeply moved by the film's general naturalness: cinematography and humor.  Onyok and Shirley's friendship was definitely icing on top of the cake balancing the heaviness of the film's subject. And Ricky Davao's epiphany when he hears Onyok play the violin at the ending was definitely orgasm to the artsy heart.

All in all, 'Boses' proves to be one exceptional Filipino film that showcases a healthy art industry; something that people like me wouldn't mind watching all over again.

Sunday, November 24, 2013

A Blossoming Paranoia

The contemplation of death always calls a person into attention; making him assess the short years he lived, and making him consider if his mission in life is fulfilled, whether he'd go to heaven or hell, if he believes in such, or whether he'll simply drift into unconscious oblivion, decomposing in the rotten earth, forgotten.

These thoughts fluttered my meadow like multicolored butterflies as I transverse the past week, silently carrying lower back pains, frequent urination and paranoia of a possible UTI, high-blood pressure or some other complication. I'm scared of hospitals, no matter how fascinated I am of medical jargons and processes, and these currently felt pains have made me obsessive-compulsive about my health.

No harm in caring for your body though and the urinalysis I had yesterday has finally calmed my premonitions of dying early. Of course, you really can't tell when you'll die, but nonetheless, the thought can rest for the meantime-I think.

Sunday, November 17, 2013


Discovering that you have high blood pressure a day after your birthday is disconcerting, and most probably ironic. You just celebrated life, and here you are already threatened by death just a few hours after. I guess this calls for a major lifestyle change: reduce sodium, reduce caffeine (gasp), diet and exercise-more reasons to be lean and sexy.

I still need to research facts about this new found difficulty though and a medical check up is inevitable in the coming days. Who knows, this may be a blessing in disguise-a golden ticket towards a healthier, happier life. But then again, that's just the optimist in me speaking. You haven't heard the glass-is-half-empty version.

Friday, November 15, 2013

Joyeux Anniversaire

My first birthday in school. 
There's always that dread of adding another year to my age every time I celebrate birthdays. But nonetheless, it can't be helped. I'm just a bit fuzzed that my twentieth year lasted like a blur. Hoho. Anyway, I hope my twenty-first will be another good one, lots of love, joy and contentment, finances (yes please), and academic success

Cheers to another year :D #21

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Quarter-Life Sailing

There's this infinite feel that I am left out by the universe. It's like everybody has gone places, lived separate and cooler lives and have taken up courses that will ultimately make their passions their professions. It's a sickly spell of envy that's rotting my skeleton and I feel decomposition every day, as the sunrise and sunsets of the world happen.

Maybe this is what they call quarter-life crisis. The pondering of the future. The assessment of the past. The consideration of the present and whether these three factors will pinpoint to where I want my life to be. Come to think of it, what do I want to be? Why am I sailing this directionless voyage?

I may have lost tract of where I want to be. Gasp.

Sunday, October 20, 2013

Frustrated Housewife

My Aunt delivered her third baby last night and I am left at home delivering dishes to the sink. This new 'housewife' role is apparently quite difficult to play and the loads of laundry I washed yesterday and all the sweeping and wiping is making me doubt if I really can make it if I have my own kids to feed, a husband to take care of (LOL) and a beauty queen image to maintain (bigger LOL).

And no matter how much I try to sugarcoat it, I cannot change the fact that I am not, and will never be, a kitchen goddess. The only light of hope I have though is the fact that my fried pork last night wasn't burned nor did it contain unnecessary concoctions that might ultimately poison the family. And thank God there's rice cooker! Otherwise we'd be eating grains or something.

Friday, August 9, 2013

For Some Reason, Mushrooms

There's this excruciating desire to juice literature out of my system that despite the raving examinations in a few days time, I decidedly stepped away from the boredom that is Accounting and the hassle that is Anatomy. As Ingrid Michaelson's You And I sets the mood this afternoon, I sit here in infinite relaxation while my phalanges do some action.

And I felt power - a quiet surge of energy, resurrection (maybe?) and slight tinge of remorse as I remembered that failed quiz that I vow to avenge. But more so, I felt liberation-that despite how short this post is, this provided me the necessary breather to go on moving and ensure myself that I'm still a live organism that devours Murakami and farts some of it sometimes.

Mushrooms. Some grow on cow poop but they still look uber cute. I think life and literature are like that sometimes, cute despite the shit below. And random. Decidedly random.

Sunday, July 7, 2013

"Chair" Potato-ing

This sickly spell of unproductive-ness is killing me and today is one of those days when the infection is incredibly lethal. I have a major quiz in 26 hours and the prelim season starts this Thursday yet here I am, couch potato-ing (or chair potato-ing-I'm sitting on a chair, not a couch). But anyway, this word vomit is a welcomed deviance to my usual days of facing accountipedia (accounting plus encyclopedia, of some sort).

Urgh. I just miss blogging and my hipster music days. But there's none much I can do but wallow away to the boring world of calculators and ledgers and operating cycles and stuff. If only there's a way to pause time and blog in between exams.

Sunday, June 30, 2013

Will Be On Hiatus

Accounting is taking my literary juices away. Will update as much as I can but I can't promise a regular posting schedule when I'm this busy and this focused on a lot of things. I will return, when the time permits me to do so. See you guys ♥

Thursday, June 13, 2013

Mid-Week Update Of Some Sort

I've been living under a fortress these early days of school and my social networking life is a pale ghost that I've shoved in the back of my head only to be resurrected on holidays, weekends and home trips like these. To be honest, living life outside these spaces is a lot more exciting and interesting, that is, minus the sweaty conundrums of living under the sun.

But the pale ghost of a beloved blog to maintain is always a struggle to send away. So here I am. Again. Writing in subversive and placid tones in all shades of gray imaginable. I am happy though that I get to express my thoughts here, or on my journal, since Accounting is a vocation that tends to suppress thoughts of   happiness and golden sunshine. I am inspired to study though and the conviction that I need to propel me towards my goal of becoming a CPA has finally arrived when my cousin passed the board examination last May.

Motivation. Direction. Conviction. A lot of work and a bit of confusion. Leggo, to infinity and beyond!

Wednesday, May 29, 2013


I have this feeling that I want to transition to another journal. I just don't feel safe writing here anymore, especially since somebody I know has actually read this. Normally, I'm a very secretive person and I feel a strain, an invasion of privacy, now that somebody has read my thoughts and (maybe) regularly reads my blog. It's scary to open up to people and expose all this carcass and be left doubting whether they'd be okay with stuff or not. Maybe I just want my private space to stay private. And maybe I'm scared about what they'd see..

Sunday, May 26, 2013

Death, Dental Surgery and Doughnuts

My mind is strange. Here's what I wrote on my journal last night while floating in a sea of pain. Mind you, dental surgeries (and all other kinds of surgeries for that matter) are not easy. Especially the post-surgery care and the chaos and confusion of deciding what to eat to avoid foodbits from getting stuck on the wounds. I know. Gross. Anyway, here it goes, grammar misses and all:
What if I died? It'll be tragic on my part but nonetheless, everyone must die, figuratively and physically, and I believe that when that particular point in time comes, one must and should accept the fate with as much grace and confidence as possible. 
Grace in a sense that one must die-considering the circumstances, like an impeding, expected death-like a teleserye goddess. Proper gesticulations and facial expressions must be aptly considered because no one likes to die ugly and one must prevent oneself from being so if one can.
The third paragraph I choose to not post since it's not really much of a paragraph anyway. Just an unfinished phrase about confidence. Anyway, to tie up this post with the title (which I just whipped a few minutes ago) I am craving for doughnuts. The Bavarian filled ones dipped in thick chocolate sauce. Urgh. If only my molars are well enough to eat.

Friday, May 24, 2013

Surreal Sumire

Last night I dreamed of Sumire. At least I though she was Sumire, she sort of reminded me of Mukami's muse in Sputnik Sweetheart except that this girl may have been a bit lighter and frail and certainly does not have Sumire's disposition; but besides the point, I dreamed of a Japanese girl with pitch black hair that cascaded to her shoulders.

She was wearing an unpressed kimono and her face reminded me of a million Japanese horror movies. Well it was a nightmare, mind you, but it wasn't the in-your-face scary type, it's the chilly staccato of some instrumental piece, say Beethoven's Fur Elise, just before the trivial climax as she raises her hands and worships (or gazes) at a Japanese floral painting that hang on the ceiling.

The surrealism was the nightmare. It was the idea of staring at awe and ignoramus, not knowing what to do, or rather being incapable of doing anything but stare at her pagan ritual that sent shivers down my spine. Woke up to the sound of a kitten meowing the night away. And I stared at the empty ceiling, scared and sleepy.

Sunday, May 19, 2013

Losing Relevance And Fishing For It

I hate it when you pressure me to write. It's like being ridiculed just at the act of typing these words with my frail fingers on this fading keyboard. It is a pain to be this obsessive-compulsive and ponder over the littlest things like wanting to pee in the midst of this sea of words, or getting uncomfortable with my legs in this yoga position, or simply worrying about the grammar fails I'm making with this seriously long sentence.

Now I'm straying from the main topic by thinking of chambray shirts raining from the sky and getting all confused if I should delete this paragraph or not but deciding against it because the length is sayang. And now I'm lost for words. It's like mid-life crisis (in this case, mid-post crisis) and like I've said somewhere, it's like a block of wood is impeding precious oxygen from flowing in and out of my life system thus preventing me from producing a relevant blog post. Deng. I've lost relevance.

And I seriously do not know how to end this one. So help me God.

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Thank You

Dear Ma,

Thank you. For every waking day. For your unending patience and perseverance. I know how much of a difficult son I am at most times. I know how spoiled I am and how this spoiled-ness has most often got the better off you. But still, thank you, for loving me despite all this, because of all this.

Thank you for being my father. I do not know, and I simply cannot imagine how difficult it is to be a single Mom. I know you've sacrificed a lot of things and a lot of opportunities that you could have enjoyed if only you had been single.

And finally, thank you. For being that wonderful person. For being strong despite the many adversities. For being the first person to slap sense on my many foolish decisions. For being the best mom you could ever be. Thank you. Thank you. And I love you.


Thursday, May 9, 2013

Changes and Phases

Writing has become quite a difficult chore these days. It's not that I do not have the time, nor do I lack the motivation, it's just that I've probably have gotten so used to spelling melancholia that this unprecedented spell of bliss is almost an unwelcomed guest to the darkness that this blog has catered to in the past few months.

But changes are beautiful. And my beautiful mornings are evident of that. Cheers to positive vibes from this day forth ♥

Saturday, May 4, 2013

Queen City

Cebu is a city of spells and to deny falling in love with it is like saying that chocolates are not the most beautiful thing that ever happened in this planet. It is a city of culture, a plethora of colors intertwined with what upscale society can provide.

A few days ago, I was privileged enough to step on to the city and yes, the city has changed compared to what it has been a decade ago when I first had the Cebuano experience. Here are some of my fave shots from our recent trip. Enjoy :3

Artsy at Ayala.

Friday, April 26, 2013

Mortality Rate

Today I massacred a few dozen black ants. It was a painless, quick extermination with simply a wish of wet cloth and a bath of dishwashing liquid. The bubbles froth on the grey rug which seems to evoke the souls of the deceased insects, still unable to comprehend the immediate death they just encountered.

My hands reek of invisible blood, permeating the air in various convulsions. Nausea-ish, I finished washing the dishes and contemplated the number of lives eliminated by these same hands: four kittens, a few hundred ants and mosquitoes plus the unknown number of doomed kangkong blossoms and aloe vera I tried to plant with these un-green thumbs.

Blood-stained and guilty as charged, I rinsed what remains of the unseen goo along with the plates and forks we utilized for dinner. By the time we have breakfast on the morrow, our lips and stomachs too will be painted.

Summer Soundtrack

There's something about a summer song that simply vibrates a sort of bubble. It floats from the stereo and bursts effervescent energy, sparkling and sprinkling on warm dancing bodies. It has a spell that evokes cocoa and jasmine scents and tropical breezes and forever wildness.

But there are also those that simply float and mellow the universe. The kind of songs that brush on your cheeks and remind you of melodies from a time long ago and baby's breath blossoms wreathed on feathered hair, of summer love affairs and nostalgic gallivanting

The summer spell continues. And I guess I have good music to make it through. Cheerio.

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Sheer, Utter Randomness

Transitioning from blue pen to black and now to pencil, yet the dire drive to weave words out of brain farts is certainly still a struggle. I tried to brainstorm and web ideas but I guess trying is fruitless when your definition of try is think.

Mostly I'm in space these days contemplating on how to make rainbow colored coke or rainbow colored mushrooms in canned coke containers (I have a fascination with c-words, sorry) and I guess my most productive activity these days are my daily house chores.

I'm not complaining. I mean, a clean house is a clean house, and a little break from all this couch-potato-ing is refreshing. It's just that I wish that there was something else I was doing. Like a vacation to the moon or something.

But yeah. A summer vacation ain't a summer vacation without a little boredom to sprinkle on top, eh?

Friday, April 5, 2013

Sand and Sun

Sandy feet and sun-kissed skin. I guess my summer began with the right amount of dipping and tanning. These thoughts and more as I sit here, at home, reminiscing yesterday's fun overload (read: pizza and ice cream ♥)  on top of me bearing the pains of sun-burnt skin.

To be honest, I crave for the sea: I love the breeze, the azure infinity that stretches across the horizon, the endless sun that glimmers, the baked sand that filters in your feet and simply the thought of how the sea connotes summer fun and summer escapades.

It was a wonder though why I opted for the pool instead of the beach. Chronic bipolar-ism? Or maybe I really am impulsive. And to think I've never bathed at sea for more than a year now. Hmm. Curiouser and curiouser.

Monday, April 1, 2013

Curiosity Did Not Kill The Cat

Life, no matter how very much alive it may be, is a potpourri of deaths. Death in various reincarnations and phases that occur at various intervals, sometimes even simultaneously, is faced by the everyday man that treads a mortal Earth. The decaying of skin, forgetting, the death of spirit, all but normal and natural kinds.

But the worst of these is the dying of intelligence, the drying up of curiosity, assigning to oblivion entire civilizations of knowledge that could have been grasp by the turning of a page. This is the worst because this  in itself is dying before the incoming death. The cessation of an idea is but the most tragic.

And as I sit here, musing and entertaining thoughts of my accounting literature, I've come to fully comprehend the horror of my intellectual  drought. I am a directionless boat floating in an ocean of knowledge. I can grasp what's below me but decidedly I didn't. I can grasp what's beyond me but decidedly I didn't. Placidity has ways of conjuring folly and the stagnant state that I am in is decidedly putting me in danger.
xii: Death

citybuoy    ♔ıǝɹɯɐı♔    ןıuǝ oɟ ɟןıƃɥʇ    Orange Wit  Spiral Prince  Leader of the Opposition

Sunday, March 31, 2013

On English and Intelligence

It is wrong to say that a person is intelligent just because he is able to convey his thoughts in English. Yes, English is a body of knowledge, a facet of intelligence, but to use it as the measure is unfair. I know a lot of people who have difficulty communicating in English but are very much dexterous in solving lengthy equations. I know teachers who teach in dialect because students understand them better that way.

Yes, to speak and understand English is to be abreast with globalization. English takes you everywhere. But the point is, one must not be prejudicial. One who speaks, who is able to speak, is not automatically the most correct person in the room. Intelligence is totality. And to measure it via a facet is myopic.

But then again. It all boils down to your definition of intelligence.

Thursday, March 28, 2013

Fat Unicorn In-The-Making

Summer vacation has officially began and the looming problems of a bulging tummy and a more circular face has gone berserk. Truth be told, I have the soul for staying slim but unfortunately, stress and growth (damn you hormones) have a way with keeping fats on my otherwise svelte silhouette.

I used to be slim. And the contemplation of that not so long past is heartbreaking. There were days when I just swallow and swallow and swallow and the guilt and excess would just flow freely off to the loo. But these days, the guilt of swallowing has become a hole on my chest. And to resort to bulimia is otherwise an unglamorous option that the idea of eating has become a  pain. I love food. And the very fact that food and its corresponding substances love me back hurts.

I fear getting fat. I have this notion that I'll get 300% more unattractive though common sense and a lot of friends would tell me that getting "bulkier" will not change who I am, what I am, and what I do. True. I'm still an awesome and talented person, egocentricity aside, but becoming something that I do not want to be is a shift that I abhor taking. I also have these notions that I'll never get a boyfriend if I get a lot heavier although I know that love isn't limited to the physical. I understand love. I mean I know that it's not shallow at the very least. It's just that I fear that my chances of being with someone will get narrower if I become fatter.

And I'm worried. And depressed. And I also believe that I'm not the only one juggling this issue. Society is such a bitch. And that includes you Karlie Kloss and all you hot slim supermodels.

Saturday, March 23, 2013


He adores summer, the color it brings,
the state of elation it connotes
and simply the rush of things that splash and splash like seas kissing the sand.
And the days will roll by of sunny-side ups in the morning
and iced tea to quench midday thirsts,
of thinning wardrobes and sun-kissed skin,
and pregnant days of idleness and tummies cinched to keep slim.
And summer love affairs will bloom and blossom like May buds
and stolen kisses under fresh summer rains.
He adores summer. He adores it.

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Awkward Thoughts And Denim

Okay. This is me trying.

There's always that state of embarrassment that we always get transfixed in and for the past week, that sordid solemn phase has made me spurt brain juice-the golden ichor that sustains my daily seizures (RIP precious brain cells). You see, choosing outfits in between balancing a feasibility oral defense, a recognition day on the Sunday plus a school affair on a Saturday has pounded half-a-pound of thoughts on my already pounded-sleepless head. I simply cannot choose between the over-worn beige short and the super-worn nautical-ish cropped pantaloons. Which goes with Saturday? And what's nice to wear on Sunday? And that's not even mentioning what I'm gonna wear on the oral defense!

And indeed, it was a disaster in the making. I look like a checked purple table when I wore my checked-purple-table-ish buttoned shirt on our oral defense, was super under-dressed on Saturday (I wasn't naked, promise) and was super duper overdressed on Sunday. Stark, dazed and utterly confused. I guess one should always, always, always know the nature and the dress code of any event before crashing into anything just yet.

Oh well. I guess the brain closet for forever embarrassments has room for more. On a positive note though, my denim vest is dope and I'm already formulating summer incarnations for it. Bwahaha. K.

Saturday, March 16, 2013

The Comeback Kid

Forever silently slipped from my hands and the days rolled like the passing of wind-distant and heavy and possibly un-literary. Poetry to me was our feasibility study chart descriptions and I believe that my English has gone extra elusive because of it.

Currently moving heaven and earth just to come up with a decent post that won't drive you guys away and the flurry of love life developments flash before my tired retina. The possibility vs the past is always dramatic to write about but I guess right now, I'd just first focus on just letting my un-manicured hands move across the keyboard. I miss the zeal of writing, the way words metaphorically blossom from my fingers and the way I listen to semi-indie, almost un-famous artists to propel the literature.

And so here I am again. Knocking. And singing in tuneless verses. Are you listening?

Sunday, March 3, 2013

Post No. 222

I feel like Atlas. Sleep is elusive and the piling up of responsibilities is a burden I can no longer carry. My English is rusty and my bones are fickle from too much SMS-ing and mobile FB-ing. Washing the dishes and washing clothes and washing my brain with bits and tidbits of accounting is a modern struggle tantamount to pre-revolution days. I shall be resurrected after my Feasibility Study struggles. But at the moment, I am a sexy zombie bitch with extra layers of moisturizer to cover my extra large eyebags. Cheerio.

Thursday, February 21, 2013


I've been listening to indie bands and quirky artists the past few months and with the exception of Frank Ocean's Thinkin' 'Bout You*, San Cisco's Awkward* and Lena's Stardust*, this song proves to be the ultimate replay buddy.

I love the hippie and semi-80's vibe of the song and since Carrie Diaries stepped into primetime tivo, retro-esque music has gone all berserk in my playlists. Retro revival seems to be the scene these days and fashion muses like Tevi Gevinson for instance has obviously made the 90's and all things quirky her life maxim.

Don't get me wrong, I mean, Riri is still love and her Stay single is another favorite. It's just that these days, the urge to go un-mainstream and rock denim vests and feathered hair is stronger than the latest pop.

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Paperplane Thoughts

There was a time when word vomit was a pleasure and literary seizures were simply seizures that tend to sparkle and therapy my thoughts. But unfortunately, the same stories are the same ones that nailed me to where I have been right from the start. This is evidenced by my previous posts where point upon point of points already pointed are once again pointed. And I'm starting to tire of this repetitiveness.

Maybe it is the fear of playing the same songs over and over again. I've once read that there are two kinds of writers: those that tell the story in segmented intervals, and those that tell the story over and over again. It is the thought that maybe I've already exhausted everything that I could write of. I have immortalized him in my musings and maybe I have used him to propel my desire to write.

I abhor writing about him. Yet I'm still writing about him despite the fact that there's really nothing to write about anymore. These carcasses of a time long gone have decomposed and what's left are nothing but tips of icebergs that I'm still melting to secrete words that have done nothing to satiate the hunger for writing.

If only it was easy for me to pluck stories from the meadows. Or release paper planes to oblivion.

Friday, February 8, 2013

Old King Time

The perennial question of whether I should sleep or not is once again at hand and the minaudieres below my eyes (read: eyebags) have grown significantly darker these past few days. Of course, it is a no-brainer for any student diligent in the arts of studentry to sacrifice this luxury and though self-induced insomnia is destructive to the body, one has and one must in order to satiate the unquenchable academic thirsts.

Feasibility Study is a bitch. Especially when it involves surveys and having to juggle time in between seven other subjects, two teaching gigs and one officer spot in a national student organization. This is not to mention the time spent on eating, social networking, telepathically transporting from hometown to school in lieu of the turtle-speed jeepneys, ogling crush and boyfriend prospects and making my hair look theoretically bed-ish.

Of course, time management is the key to success. And we, who can barely manage it, can only wind and blah-blah about its limits. Cheerio.

Sunday, February 3, 2013

Renaissance and Pencil Shavings

You've missed stroking paper and scribbling valiant verses for in the past few weeks, the only literature you knew was your compulsory Religion subject journal and organization paper works. You've missed complaining of your January sickness spells and of how one whole month could conspire to jeopardize the health that you need most. You've missed babbling of unrequited love and it's many faces (and feces). And most of all, you've missed the endless summer-ish days when work was nonexistent and when the words were easier to vomit, minus the pretensions and pressures and margins and space-counts.

But despite the stress, nausea and zombie-inspired mornings on post-sleepless nights, you've managed to survive-limbs very much intact but sacrificing perfectly perfect 20-20 vision. Now the torture of wearing -25 graded eyeglasses has befallen you; a small feat but nonetheless, a significant life alteration for your previously free nose bridge.

Blabberings aside, you're recharged, refreshed and resurrected, and the pencil shavings prove that. Hello? :)

Thursday, January 17, 2013

This Isn't Goodbye

The author is currently busy juggling academics and personal issues; and though he does not wish to abandon, even temporarily, the blog that has made his life way more exciting that how it actually is, he must. A break is necessary not only to rethink and reconnect with his literature, but also to make sense and make way for life outside these spaces. He wishes that his readers will still be his readers when he comes back. And by the grace of God, he will. He must. He's made his mind that he will. 

And so until then, au revoir. This isn't good bye. Only a brief interlude of the songs we've sung together.

Post No. 222

Saturday, January 12, 2013

Serious Blabberings

Haven't blogged since forever and I may have a serious case of writer's block. Yet to discover how to read well because the last time I savored a book was Kafka on the Shore, my latest read, which spanned a good one month.

Feel like floating these days. Self-induced insomnia is a bitch and proved to be an un-sexy way of mental degradation. These thoughts have made me resurrect my fear of Alzheimer's.

Also suffering attention deficiency, both from inside and outside-ish. Inside in a sense that I cannot focus on a lot of things and outside, from outside parties-signs of a premature KSP (Kulang Sa Pansin) Syndrome.

There really is probably death while still alive because right now I feel like I'm six-feet under in an old tattered knock-off designer suit buried beneath a thick sheet of stress. And I thought stress had a 'til death-do-us-part vow,

Meanwhile, in other non-death news, yet to check Life of Pi. So yeah. Cheerio.

Much love, 

Sunday, January 6, 2013

Post No. 220

Words and thoughts fluttered above my head and the eerie feeling of floating resurfaces while Lana del Rey with her rich velvet songs sings in the background, her dark hair, clouded in circles around her face. I feel death by the window. Dark marshmallows cover the azure sky and my lashes are dry of gazing at the grey emptiness.

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

A is for Ash

Words jumped up and down the pages of my journal as I flipped them one last time. I fingered the corners, the dust habituating in between fluttered in the air and the many memories of time spent scribbling verses here and there exploded with bittersweet nostalgia.

My memories of you are the parasites that I've buried in this notebook and for the many months that passed, these have stayed in these leaves, caged in metaphors and cerebral poops that have unfortunately, ultimately poisoned me. Writing about you was therapeutic, but in the long run, the words that I have expressed are the very same words that haunt me in my dreaming.

So I fingered the pages, and triggered by the sense of renewal, tore them one by one and burned them in the middle of a clearing somewhere back. The embers glowed in anticipation as they fiddled and licked the ink of my paper thoughts, reducing them to nothingness-ashes of the what could-have-been's.

And as the afternoon sun danced it's tendrils on my face, I watched the wind blow the ash-turned memories into the sunset.Oblivion is such a fanatical concept. But we can always assume that it is achievable.