Tuesday, December 6, 2016

Time to Let Go

We must let go of time. Time always moves forward. It does not wait for anyone. Some people say they live in the moment, but moments stay in the past. Time does not stop for moments. Time keeps moving on, and we can never keep time or bring it back. When time leaves, it leaves, and you will never have the same time again.

We must let go of time because the more we hold on to it, the farther we are to it. We think we're holding on to time, but we're only holding on to the past---a time that has already left us. It is only the present once, and every day of our lives become the past.

We must let go of time because in the end we all run out of time.

Some things we just can never bring back.


Woke up and found my watch stuck at 4:44 (but technically it was 4:14 because my watch is 30 minutes advance).

Saturday, November 26, 2016

You've Already Said Good-bye

It started before it ended
When the news broke before the waves reached the shore
When the tears never fell and the words never spoken
But the lives go on as if good-bye has been spent

It started before it ended
Though I'm still here, it's as if I'm not
Though posts still exist and likes still persist
It's as if the distance has already separated us

It started before it ended
When the laughter burns and the conversations flood
But the moments are fleeting and the nights are longer
And the songs are louder in the silence

It started before it ended
When the routine is broken and built
When the habits and promises are safe in the treasure chest of time
In the forgetfulness and fickle memory of time

It started before it ended
When the hellos are empty and the small talk is all there will ever be
And the good-byes have finally been said
As if good-byes were meant by saying hello
As if good-bye was what was meant to be said from the beginning

It started before it ended
You've already said good-bye


I told you my #NaNoWriMo discipline is not to be trusted. Now it's almost December! Oh well.

Monday, November 7, 2016

Halfway into Darkness

Halfway into darkness, I found myself grasping. The edges of the pictures, the faces, the brightness fading. The heaviness of darkness blanketed my head, embracing my skull with the warmth of suffocation. It was daunting. It was undeniable. It was irresistible.

Halfway into darkness, my eyes could no longer carry the burden of seeing. I fought. I fought as valiantly as any knight would against the dragon breathing fire. But my dragon breathed darkness. My eyes were swallowed slowly into oblivion, drowning, now seeing, now blinded.

Halfway into darkness, I heard the rush of life. The cries of faceless people, identities never shared. I felt their hurry, their eagerness to move on, as if the darkness never threatened them---as if I were the only one engulfed by it.

Halfway into darkness, I could not fight. My mind felt numb, my body paralyzed but for fleeting jolts of resistance. I dared and braved the ancient paths of those who tried and failed but lived to tell the tales---the stories of darkness winning in and over them. Hope of change sucked out of freedom.

Halfway into darkness, I slipped and fell and went tumbling into the comfort of surrender.

Halfway into darkness, I slipped and fell asleep.


Because oh my I fell asleep in the jeepney again. O_O


I'm not counting days anymore. haha

Thursday, November 3, 2016

Of Melancholic Music

Out of the darkness, the music came. Calling, capturing those who dared to listen. Like sirens to the sailor lost at sea, the music allured the people, except me.

It didn't matter what song it played, what movement it was, which instrument it used. It didn't matter that after every song came the devastating emptiness of silence. I knew it would come again, and with its return, the cries of longing unfulfilled.

The strings softly strummed sang an intro to the sun. The drums beat deaf the wooden floor below. The keys depressed rang deep beyond the walls. The walls could not contain it---the walls of human hopes.

I cast aside desire, knowing well the pull of want. The voices call me crazy to give up and take a stand. The music, the instruments, the humming, and the songs, they were of no use outside. They held no allure, no symphony, no harmony to a rider of a broken vessel.

And yet.

The songs came again, inching, whispering to me. The strings that sang to the sun struck through my restless soul. The drums that beat the floor punctuated every heartbeat. And the voices called me crazy not to see that the music from which escape I wanted was the music within me.


Day 2 (because November 1 was a holiday :p )
"She never wanted to hold a musical instrument ever again" would be too obvious.
NaNoWriMo, here we go.
Also, oh my, it doesn't rhyme! (Cries of despair)

Wednesday, November 2, 2016

Insomnia, Her Excuse

11:00 p.m.
She lies on the bed and stretches. The bed sheet crumples under her and the pillow flattens, forcing her to fold it just to make it appear plump. She stares at the ceiling and decides to clean up the cobwebs in the morning. Maybe. She waits for sleep to come. The light remains on.

She turns the light off.

1:00 a.m.
She turns the light on and decides to brush her teeth. She considers reading until she falls asleep, but her eyes complain. Her left eye fights to keep closed in the sudden brightness. She weaves around the mess that is her room, brushes her teeth, then goes back to bed. She stares at the ceiling again.

2:00 a.m.
She watches a cartoon series. She goes through four or five episodes when the Internet stops her. The video fails to buffer, and she gives up refreshing the browser. She decides to read a few chapters of a book she considers boring, hoping to fall asleep out of boredom. She finishes one chapter.

3:00 a.m.
The light is still on. She's still staring at the ceiling, thinking of red flags and wrong choices. Her mind fills with questions and excuses. The parade of ideas flock and bottleneck until she shakes them out. She rolls around in bed, trying to find a comfortable position. She decides to do stretches, hoping to tire herself. She turns the light off and stares at the darkness, willing it to swallow her until it was time to face daylight again.


3:00 p.m. the previous day
She drinks coffee.


It's NaNoWriMo again! Let's see how long I can keep this up this time.

Wednesday, April 13, 2016

Pansina Pud Ko Oi

Didto sa kilid sa dalan
Kung asa ko pirmi nag-atang ug sakyanan
Didto tika una nakita
Nagtindog ug nagtanga-tanga

Didto sa kilid sa dalan
Nipara kog jeep padung trabaho
Nakihuot ko sa mga galinkod
Maong ako kay nakurat sa akong pagtalikod

Hala ka, kay nisakay man pud ka
Nakihuot pud ka sa jeep nga wala na gyuy lugar
Ug sa tanang pwede nimo suksukan
Didto pa jud ka sa akong tapad niplastar

Pansina pud ko oi
Pirting humota ra ba nimo
Di parehas sa uban nga buntag sayo pa
Bahog singot na

Pansina pud ko oi
Ka-hamis ra ba jud sa imong braso
Nga ga-sigeg bangga-bangga sa akong braso

Pansina pud ko oi
Kabalo ko gwapo ra kaau ka para nako
Pero bisan na
Pansina pud ko oi

Didto sa unahan sa may iskina
Nanganaog ang mga tawo
Ug ang nabilin kay kita na lang duha

Didto sa unahan sa pagliko sa jeep
Nilingi ka sa ako ug ikaw kay ningisi

Haskang lipaya gyud nako
Napansin na jud ko
Di na kinahanglan mag-iring-iring
Ug magpaduding

Gipansin ko nimo
Ug bisan bakante na ang jeep
Gitaparan gihapon ko nimo
Makalanay imong pagtan-aw kanako
Makalanay ug maka in love sangatanan

Gipansin ko nimo ug gitutukan
Gitutukan ug kutsilyo ug ni-ingon nga
ihatag nako kanimo ang tanan
Tanan? Tanan tanan jud?
Sadihang gikuha na nimo ang akoang bag
Wa man lang jud ka nilingi ug usab

Pansina pud ko oi
Ikawng kawatan
Pansina pud nga gikawat nimo di lang akoang bag
Apil pa akoang kasingkasing

Charmos ginamos. :p

Monday, February 29, 2016

It's What Love Does

It's what love does

When it suddenly calls and the randomness of it catches you off guard
When its words slur and its voice fades and it loses itself for a while
When the moment fills with tension and it makes you realize how unprepared you are

It's what love does

When you see it and wonder if it truly exists or you may just be making things up
When you listen to it taking control of the conversation because you can't find your voice to respond to it
When the moment passes and you find yourself wondering if the silence was what was best

It's what love does

It asks how you are and listens to your answer
It wakes you up in the morning to tell you that you are thought of, you are remembered
It creeps into your memories and your dreams and makes your reality, for the first time, better than your fantasy

It's what love does

When it decides that who you are today is not defined by who you were before
When it forgives you of the most damaging of faults and tells you that it won't change
Love won't change

It's what love does

When it stretches its arms and waits for you to see, waits for you to run into it
When it tells you to talk about everything and nothing
When it listens even to the deepest longings of your heart even when these longings do not involve love

It's what love does

It gives you the best without asking for anything
But you
It gives you its whole self and wants nothing more than to make you happy
It gives its life knowing you may not even want it

But that's what love did

Love came and came for you
Love wanted the best for you
Love gave up everything for you

Love listened
Love learned
Who you are
What you've done
Where you've been
Who you've been with
What happened to you
Yet love loved you

Love loved you
Love loves you still

This is what love does

It loves without conditions
It gives without expectations
It lives to give you life
It stays to keep you alive

It's what love does

When it suddenly calls and the randomness of it catches you off guard
But you recover and you realize
You love love too

That's what love does.

1 John 4:8
John 3:16
John 15:13
Romans 5:8

Saturday, January 16, 2016

Do You Ever Really Know?

When asked how much I know a person, there are a couple of things that run around in my head.

I think you never really stop knowing a person. I think you can never really know a person enough. And it's funny and sad that we think we know people so well that we can be comfortable with just being with them, with just being who we really are with them. I've thought that would be okay before, but when you lose that trust with someone once, you can't really get it back without thinking if all those years were just tolerance.

Anyway, I've found that it's very rare to find people whom you can truly talk with. There are people you can have long meaningful conversations with, and there are people who just chat, scraping the top of the iceberg, the superficial fillers, until one gives up and decides to waste time elsewhere. I think it then matters what you mean by knowing a person because you can say that you know a person well by the many meaningless things you've talked about but you can't say you know who the person is without the layers of ever-changing information.

I've heard before that even when you're married, you still learn things about your spouse that never came up when you were still single. Even when you've been friends for years, there are still things that you never really know about the person. So why do we still ask if we know someone enough?

How do you know? How do you really know a person "enough" that you can say you can trust that person with, say, your life?

Matters of consequence.

Thursday, January 14, 2016

Pseudo Deja Vu

Pseudo Deja Vu

Pseudo Deja Vu

I live fairly near to this quaint food place (I don't know if I should call it a restaurant) where I am writing this post. In the few minutes that it took for me to walk here, I realized that I was forcing deja vu.

We all know that deja vu is "the illusion of remembering scenes and events when experienced for the first time." It's the feeling that you've seen something happen that way before.

Well, pseudo deja vu is, I believe, when you force it. I was forcing deja vu when I walked here because it's exactly what I did the day before. Pseudo or forced deja vu is doing something exactly the way you did it before to achieve the feeling of deja vu. It's what you do when you stalk or when you want to be stalked: you stick to a schedule, a routine, and do it the same way every single time.

But this post is not going to be about stalking. No. I am going to talk about the many times that we force deja vu.

Two quotations come to mind when I think of this.

The first is from Albert Einstein's definition of insanity: "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."

The other is from Thomas Edison: "I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work."

I understand that these two are totally different, but bear with me on this one.

Sometimes we do things even when we know they won't work. Sometimes we do things even though we know it's wrong. We convince ourselves that things will turn out differently, but who are we kidding, really? When you do the same thing over and again, it's going to end up the same as it ended up the last time. We become like dogs chasing their own tails. It's an endless cycle of, well, that's just it. It's a cycle.

But why do we do it? Do we hope for change? Of course we do. We hope things become different. But even more, we hope to feel that same feeling we felt the last time (so many feels). Someone once asked, "When was the last time you did something for the first time?" And someone also gave the sentiment that "I wish I could forget I read this book before so I could read it again as if it were my first time." Do we secretly hope that we could undo the past and make it the first time?

Do we secretly not want to deja vu (yes, I used it as a verb :p)? I don't know where this post is heading, but I do know that sometimes we are so caught up in the before that the after becomes inconsequential. We live in the past and long for the future that we are hardly ever present. Sure, when you live in this world for too long, everything seems to become familiar, but it's not exactly the same.

So it's your call if you want to pseudo deja vu. It's your call if you want to do the same thing over and again without changing anything. You can choose to be insanity or you can choose to be the 10,001st way that actually worked. (But come on, you want to go all the way to 10,000 before you change?)

In Inception, Leo (because I'm too lazy to search his character's name) had this spinning top that let him know if he was in the real world or not. My spinning top that reminds me that this is only a pseudo deja vu is that I came here a couple of minutes later than I did yesterday, did not order the same thing, and actually wrote a post. So it's only a pseudo deja vu. Nothing is ever really the same.

Pseudo Deja Vu

Pseudo Deja Vu

Pseudo Deja Vu

PS I believe I don't make sense right now. :p