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..
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Sunday, May 26, 2013
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
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
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. 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
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
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.|