Get Lost Together.

That your lips and your moans should be enough to mask the deafening drumming of your guilt. Your self-loathing. Your preconceived notion of safety.

But when your limbs have lost their strength to hold onto the body of the other, what will keep you bounded then?

I have stayed outside your home for too long and have borne the echoes of your frightened screams drowned and masked by the passion of the stranger you fool yourself into loving... or you fool yourself into thinking is immune to loving. That's where your notion of safety fails.

Discover that continent then while you profess to your motherland that there is no love in the discovery of its contours and moods.

Just pure savagery.

(As purely a savage as you... )

Does His Armor Shine, Wook?

So speak of him in rhyme then.

Tell me of his soul that I may somehow strengthen my faith yet again...

Hiding Place.

Perched on a ladder that leads to nothing but a wall
I have been waiting for you.
Too long.
Too long in the shadows.
Too weathered and sad the lonely rungs.
Find your way through the thick green, love;
For I long to dance in my mother's wild garden,
in my dress of blue.
Loneliness is not a good playmate.
Not when it seeks...
And I hide...

So Now...

It comes to a point where it's no longer about waiting for you to start being a man...

... but for me to stop being a woman.

Refocusing.

Had a "wake-up call" this evening.

I've been losing my focus... shame shame.

I need to retrace the path to the point where I somehow lost it.

:)

My Ever-Pulled-Up Mouth...

Through anything and everything,
more so now,
I shall remain a faithful hopeful...
And a faithful advocate of Happiness.:)

I shall attract it... always.:)

To Two Of My Soul Sisters.

I realized tonight how scarred our hearts have become.

_{This makes me (somehow) sad.}

I realized tonight how faithful hopefuls our hearts still are, despite.

_{:) And this makes me happy.}

Happier than sad.

:)

I Keep Getting Left Behind.

And I don't give a flying duck!:D

I try.:D

What I really want to do right now is get something heavy and heave it at someone... well, that's just me at this moment.

I won't do it... really...:D

I am such a fool sometimes...

This Error.

Sigh.

As that song goes... has to end... must now cease...

:)

I write my reminders on this blog so don't expect to understand it all the time.:)

Whoever you are.:D

November 29 Marker.

One day left.

Sigh.

With this as the only thing confused and confusing in my life right now...

I Am A Proud Bestfriend!:)

For my beloved ballerina and actress is now a wowing_!!! singer!

Ahihi.:)

Hear Hear!:D

Don't grumble, yeah!:P

November 28 Marker.

Finally!

A task finished!

I shrugged her off.

Then off again.

:)

November 27 Marker.

Earthquake.

Playful wind.

Restlessness below and above.

But the boys played in the middle.:)

It's Windsday!:)

On a Tuesday.:) And the boys came out to play with the playful wind.:)

I couldn't resist trying my hand at taking a video.:)

Ahhh....

Last song for tonight... found it!

"Go the Distance"

:)

One Thing About Me- More So Now.

(My "error" has always been my faith.

I try not to seek the bad, evil or ugly in people.

For I, too, have rooms for them.)

In as much as we all need to lock our evils in- so should we also not try to unlock others'. For we may end up feeling more unguarded than we think and feeling terrible- both for doing what we did and the post-effects of what we did.

As for people whose evils outweigh their good- lock them somewhere really far from you.:)

Always act in good faith and if evil manages to result from the act, deal with it with all the goodness you have inside.

You'll never feel sorry for that.:)

(And yes, I like this "error.")

I Miss Nicole.

She's the sweetest little girl ever. I used to teach her English but we both always managed to end up building dollhouses from cereal boxes and furniture boxes.:)

She'd always hug me and kiss my cheek and call out in the cutest voice, "Teacher Shoil!"

And when it's time to say bye-bye, she'd always pull my hand back inside and tell me not to go.

And while walking away, I would suddenly hear her running to me for a last hug.

Then one Monday morning, she wasn't in school anymore. Her mom took her away.

I didn't even get to hug her goodbye.

I've been missing her for the past two years.

November 26 Marker.

:)

Thinking too little is sometimes good.:)

Very good.

'nuf said.:)

November 25 Marker.

Uniforms.

Good movie.

Finalization of trip.

That's it.

So Much To Learn!

So much time and effort and resources that need our minds' "abuse."

Sometimes I catch myself pacing the rooms of my head, in utter helplessness for my mind's children cannot really run amuck in the space of reality.

There are sets of rules and laws that they can never really break in its realm. So, the source of my helplessness, I watch them longingly looking out of their windows at a world that can never really contain them.

Sigh.

Justification And Not Some Poor Goat That Gets Beaten For Somebody Else's Crimes.

I guess I needed to see that somehow.

I'm happy that My Lucky Star pointed at you.:)

Strange that a stranger brought about this new faith and confidence in the plan I have laid out.

I shall not feel guilty for wanting to be that unchanged space between afternoon and night.

Thank you, dear stranger.

Ah, My Lucky Star!

Perhaps I did start looking at the watches of every passersby.

So, I guess it is a good thing... I can twiddle my thumbs nga.:)

And, thank goodness, I brought a lot of books with me.

Thank you, dear dear Wook for the link.:)

Lucidity.

Honestly, most days my heart feels like it's going to burst out of me.

Because the longer I am kept waiting, the clearer it gets to me that he is weak. That my idolatry of him is the only thing that keeps him from being knocked down from that altar.

We are all composed of both strong and weak constitutions. We are all composed of the possibilities of either or both. But, it is a choice.

We all have fallen. From those things and people we held in high regard.

Will we forever love the taste of dirt in our mouths?

I say, I'm leaving that disturbed ground to be reshaped by that wind that will never know me.

November 24 Marker.

Oh "inconstant moon!"

You can sprawl yourself, do cartwheels, do somersaults, do nothing for it is a free playground.

And you know what, Shirley? You can do the same as well. :)

Sabi Niya Sa Akin.

Naduling mo raw ako.

Nabulag din ata.

Subalit ang dakilang bulag slash duling ay pilit pa ring minamatyagan ang pagbabalik mo.

The multi-tasking broken heart and eyes.:P

_{O-ha, Taglish ang lola niyo!}

I think the bed I woke up on was/is too wide. Hahaha.

So Be It Then: Not Out Of Restraint.

For for the first time in a long time, something came through.

And I'm admonishing myself right now.

This one's for me right now.

Not for you.

Enough Na.

No more talk. No more.

The terrible feelings always wash over afterwards.

The I should'ves.

No more. At least with the flesh and blood ones.

:) Besides, I can always just take a walk and have a -versation with myself, in my self.:)

What You Said The Other Day.

It is a choice, isn't it?

Dear dear, I'm waking up... almost wide-awake now.

Maybe she's right. Just leftovers. Throw them out or feed them to the dogs.

<sub>You are weak and dry.

Yet I stay for someone I'm beginning to think unworthy...</sub>

Suit.

I know a man who feeds on hearts.

Especially on the strong and true ones.

He loves to smack his lips in satisfaction at the end of every hurried meal.

Jeepney Musings.

How every kanto looks like the next one. Paved or otherwise.

I realized that I haven't seen a lot of children playing those childhood games that used to keep me and my playfellows always out of the house and used to keep us always in trouble.:D

November 23 Marker.

Thoughts of him and her in wild abandon.

Thoughts of weak men being justified by my own admission that sometimes I am weak, too... so I should cut them some slack.

Thoughts of my hopeless romantic bestfriend who believes love is a choice. You do or you don't.

Thoughts of me finding what Ti' Don and Rose have.

Thoughts of things that are not really as big as they seem...nor as small. :)

November 22 Marker.

Something "new"... I'm sad today.

I'm sick today, too.

That's it.

November 21 Marker.

Talked with Dondon- very good conversation. I missed him.

And his Discovery Channel/Oprah/Trivia pursuits, haha.

I still can't wait for this month's end!!! Whoohooo!!!

Bestfriend, I AM phenomenal.:D Egotistical, too, but I don't really care. Haha.

I still feel like sunshine all over! Except this time I'm cartwheeling, too!

Oh, Mel made me laugh about that who cannot be redeemed anymore. Haha, I love my bestfriend!

That's it for today.:D

November 20 Marker.

Wow, ten more days to go.

Uneventful day.

Cuddles and a sleepy good morning.

Felt "sad" because of Nick Joaquin.

But felt "happy" because of the same man, too.:)

Constantly thinking of that expected trip at the end of this month.

Can't wait to see him.

Can't wait to see them.

Can't wait to wear my legs out when that day comes.:)

November 19 Marker.

Dragging day.

His addiction continues.

Really hot night, woke up with my pillow quite drenched with sweat.

Late-night cheerleading for a soul sister.

Stand-in therapist.

Watched an advanced movie screening.

November 18 Marker.

Children with their dreamy kites.

Had a very playful wind who gladly played with the village kids.

They painted a very pretty picture with the sunflowers.

Still amazed that I can still see that distinct mountain from my home... though I'm a couple of miles away. The locals call it "susung dalaga"... meaning "maiden's breast"... too bad it's only one... but one breast will suffice I guess. Haha.

Young girls chewing and sucking on unpeeled sugarcanes... childhood memories...

Yeah, I am still happy! Can you believe the power of it?:D

Shirley Darling.

Sigh. My hair coming down because of the wind. Green all around. And make-believe the river of my childhood is not the wasteland it's become now.

Yes, my old methods of daydreaming have come back...

I kind of feel out of place in them... though strangely at home at the same time.

After all, I'm just retracing steps that have already been taken a long time ago.

I love myself. I love what I have worked for to be in the place I am now with myself.

My Beloved.

Something alarmed me and made me want to cry tonight.

This self-imposed search of yours is making me start to forget about you...

I saw a photograph of you and I realized that you are slowly turning into a stranger.

I'm trying hard to hold on to you. But you are turning into fine sand without me realizing it...

This waiting heart, perhaps in reality, is already tired.

Still... I'm sticking to my stubborn nature.

My error had always been faith.

So be it then...

Who will kiss my mouth?

Hold my hand?

Sing with me?

Dream with me?

Philosophize with me?

Laugh with me?

Hunt bookstores with me?

Visit museums with me?

Take long walks with me?

Tell me I'm beautiful?

Read to and with me?

Dance with me?

Swim with me?

Agree that all things change but we'll try our best to remain steadfast?

Sometimes I think I'm such a fool... most of the time, I think otherwise.:)

Call It What You May.

I literally feel like those women who stare back at the world now... from their perch... from their portraits.

Am I of flesh and blood? Or have I finally convinced myself that I, too, can be deserving of a framed waltz of oil?

(At least this is how it feels like inside of me.)

Daily now, for quite a long time running already, I feel like a never ending celebration is always being held... with me as the hostess and the solitary guest...

And all night, I dance...:)

November 17 Marker.

I felt weary.

Almost got into an accident on my way home.

I'm glad it was an "almost."

Heart's more reinforced... this is always a good thing.

The mountains of my home are my weekly therapists.:)

I can't believe I'm already halfway with my markers.

I got time in my hands. I am in no hurry so I can spare myself for now...

The Hopeless Sap That I Am.

I feel so alive. I feel like my heart is ready to burst out giggling.

I think it's all those old movie clips I've been watching lately.

Kelly and Astaire, especially, tug so strongly at my heartstrings... and at the sides of my lips, too.

I feel young and hopeful and happy and free from worries again.

I love saying it: I am happy.:)

November 16 Marker.

Caught myself daydreaming a lot of times today.

Beautiful sunset to end the week.

I got two sick kidneys. _{So much for being a water addict.}

Aww, Bianca touched me with her blog entry.:)_{Did we really say multiples?} Hahaha!

My posts have been bleh lately, but I don't really care right now.

This is my space...

It's comforting to know the certain extentions that let me afford such...:)

I'm happy.

Happy is always a good thing.:)

Weather's Not The Only Unsettled One.

How an animeish video got posted on my blog, I just can't begin to comprehend right now.

I just love the DELETE button!

Now I can blog the one I meant to blog about...

November 15 Marker.

He's not invincible. Darling, go.

Two soul sisters in distress.... rub-a-dub-dub.

Wet, windy day.

Quite lonely, actually.

Music as my only companion.

He kissed me in my sleep- while I was sleeping.:)

November 14 Marker.

Full of daydreams.

Three men in my head... I am so polyamorous right now. Haha.

Late-night chat with Bianca... well, kinda late-night.:)

Very tiring but very good day.:)

She finally has a blog!

I'm in very good spirits- this end of the day.:)

Haha, apparently... count the smileys...:)

Nothing profound today.

But happiness is profundity in itself... so I guess, that's that then!:)

November 13 Marker.

Bestfriend in distress... three women in a tub, rub-a-dub-dub...

Uneventful.

Unwanted thoughts warded off quickly... gahd.

Anatomy and Physiology Highlight, at least.

Hope for a better day... or at least, one as "good" somehow.

November 12 Marker.

Ran out of water.

Night talk with an old classmate.

Almost freaked my own self yet again.

Erwin said he'll hug me forever.:)

Lessons with Chuck again and of his head-bashing incident... right, almost got me there.

Word game with Rai... I backed-out... kulang sa carbs.:)

Getting better... :)

Editing chords.

Sunshine and fading rays.:(

November 11 Marker.

Trigonometric happiness all around;)

Lighter.

Last lunch with an old playmate... perhaps.

Madonna fever!

That's just about it...

Haha, Highly Public Form Of Getting Even.

I like that...

"Doesn't smell half as good as you do... if you know what I mean..."

Timeless indeed.

Maybe, like her, I will one day treat is as some kind of a sick song.

Except that right now, I am 19.

So here I will stay for now... but time will make the numbers shift.

^^ I bask.

November 10 Marker.

Quick cup of coffee.

Footwork. A very good one.

Haha, wonderful conversation and sound tripping.

Swamped with calculations.:P

Uneventful. Quite uneventful.

November 9 Marker.

Sleep was victorious.

Lighter somehow.

I was thinking last night: "Ill turns..."

Eight years of buried memories... forcefully-exhumed.

Hmm... and I wonder if salakot means anything right now to anyone, except for one.;)

Late into the night- conversation.

So glad of it.

It felt good. I felt trusted.

Damien Rice's "9 Crimes"> My Current Crime: (Is Being) Upload-Happy Today.

Damien Rice is one of my husbands... Haha.

I'm polygamous.:P

I can't help it, he's such a damned good musician and lyricist... and I am a sucker for men like him...

Sigh...

Pause For A Moment Of Drama.:P

Because I need to self-cheer with a cheerless-sounding song...:)

November 8 Marker.

Has it really been this short a time?

Well...

Gene Kelly, Bryan Adams, Richard Marx, Joni Mitchell and Santana kept me company today.

Wrote and wrote apparently.

Last class didn't push through.

Got a singular hit that made me feel both guilty and smug.

I asked myself: "Shoil, is that the evil you?"

Too bad the answer I got was: "Right. Dare to dream, softy."

Try not thinking for the next few days.

See where that leads me.

I Am The Great Mistress Shirley Waiting.

Whenever you tell me you love me and that you want me to stay, I feel both elated and ready to bleed at the same time.

For words are words no matter how reassuring they are when they are uttered.

This pain that I speak about in jest sometimes... is not at all funny. There is no humor in here.

But what else am I to do if seriousness drives you away?

If seriousness drags me deeper into the tunnels of dark thoughts?

I falter sometimes in my resolve to keep myself wrapped up in silence.

But sometimes, the silence escapes me.

Brief release...

Sigh... but the self-admonition that follows...

Dare I speak of it...?

What You Said.

That I hide in metaphors.

I hide in them because what business is it of the world to know the whos, the wheres and wherefores of my speck of a life in the infinity of space?

Besides, metaphors make me bleed less but still stay here to remind me of the marks I have made in my quarter-life. Or one-third of a spent-life as my statistician friend said. I'll take his word for it.

I dare not tell the details of the deceptions, happinesses, heartbreaks, madnesses, confusions, anxieties (and such) that have passed and are passing through my life... at least most of the time anyway... for I do not ask for anybody's allegiance nor judgment.

I simply ask for the release of saying the things that are begging to be let out of my soul.

Dearest Joni.

"I met a woman
She had a mouth like yours
She knew your life
She knew your devils and your deeds
And she said
Color go to him, stay with him if you can
Oh but be prepared to bleed"

And bleeding I am...

Daily...

Emma's predicament perhaps...

But this poet will go back to being a poet...

For now, she still can take it.

Life's end does not tempt her but makes her laugh in its face...

And makes her shake her head at herself...

Oh silly one...

Reminder.

Remember the Latin.

The key to everything you changed today...

November 7 Marker.

Toughest one yet.

I told myself: Write another song, love. One that speaks of turning yourself inside out and shaking out all the dust that have gathered inside of you. Scare the ghosts away from the halls of your being.

I realize, I am strong.

I realize I am wonderful.

I realize I do not need wings to rise above this overrated pain on this plane.

Temptation: Heed the call of my limbs.

Love does not deal pain that it is aware of...

... I mean, the lover professing love does not deal pain he or she is aware of dealing...

November 6 Marker.

Joni Mitchell yet again.

Trying for a second one.

Waited yet again.

Fighting sadness.:)

Got more reasons to be happy.:)

Uneventful day.

Flash of doubt but dashed that already.

Started on "Neverwhere" and I am convinced more than ever that I should steal him from his wife.;)

Why The Rush, I Thought.

I have an entire lifetime to see where my steps will take me.

I am not afraid anymore of what cards I’d be dealt with.

I have myself now and I sit in the comfort that at least I won’t be abandoned by myself.

And this is more than enough to face each day with the most positive of outlooks.:)

November 5 Marker.

First day on a strange bed.

First day in a strange bathroom.

First long afternoon nap in a very long time.

I think the man I'm gonna marry will be one lucky ass.^^

Water-hunting.

Bugged everyone on my Y!M.^^

Nobody answered back, damn. Haha.

It's all bearable now.

One day at a time, Shirley, I tell myself...

Joni Mitchell fever!

The Bravest Scared Girl That I Am.

I just finished my first-ever original composition.

And, heck why not, I'll be posting it here soon.^^

Weeee! Sunshine all around!

We Sing Because...

... when words dance to a tune, they make us feel more noble. The humblest of words is lifted up in idolatry... if only for but a few beats...

November 4 Marker.

My first song ever... great cause for celebration.:)

Chuck and cliques.

Food is beginning to find its appeal again.

Intermittent pain.

Late-night texting with two relevant individuals.

Some Old Journal Entries.

While waiting for my sister a while ago, I reread my old journal... it's not that old actually as I haven't even filled it all up yet but while reading it I realized that there were so many entries that I actually forgot all about.

Whilst reading I got reacquainted with old joys and pains. Old anger and jubilation. The things that have carved themselves on the trunk of my being.

Hmm... I forgot the point I was working towards... Hmm...

Haha, good or bad, I am not here to complain about what are now had-beens.

Sigh, eventualities... I am where I should be right now.:)

November 3 Marker.

Old stuff into a new place.

Toted five bags.

His RPG fever.

Longer minutes before the sternum attack.

A healthy reminder from Janice.

Six-hour wait into the dawn for the seat I have now.

Reread my journal... naturally: realizations.

November 2 Marker.

Lone show with four gangly boys.

Tall cup of coffee.

Conversation with an old friend.

Conversations with old friends.

Two minutes upon waking without the sternum attack.

A plastic box full of clothes and kitchen stuff.

A tin box for intimates.

And a basket made for girls.

Encouragement from two people somehow...

November 1 Marker.

Mother of my beloved niece in my room, talking.

Long talk under the trees, crunching leaves under my heels.

First skull punch.

Will try to stay on the road I finally saw.

(Sigh, and the mighty beer failed. Haha.)

Without Any Further Thought.

This has been quite a shattering night. Family secrets I never thought existed came bursting out of a broken heart. The impact it had on me was I started killing the romantic and faithful believer in me. My heart is breaking as well.

Right now, it seems that my idealism suddenly died...

I am heartbroken.

Countdown To November 30.

I am pinning this reminder on this blog.

At the end of the countdown, I will tell you what I meant by "this reminder."

Perhaps, things will be clearer then...:)

I'm The One Haunting The Graveyards Now, Beloved Ereyon.

I feel lost without you, beloved. But the other thing that keeps me bathed in this light is the knowledge of my knowledge of you: That your heart does not hold petty beats. That that heart is mine still. That I haven't really lost you.

How can I lose you when you finally find yourself?

Ours is something that time, distance and tasks cannot completely extricate from our lives' designs.

This is a journey you must take on your own and I can only hope to see you at the end of it.

Strange how intact my faith in you is. What are time and fleeting moments against the truth of our love, really?

I will never lose you and you will never lose me.

I want you to have the kind of wholeness I have now in your absence... in that wholeness you, too, will realize how entwined we really are.

No nights with a stranger, no stranger's effects on my drawer and no pedestrian efforts at conversations can push me from your life just like that.

This phase of yours is mine as well.

I know I will see you at the end of it...

Unless, You or I or _{by some sort of miracle} a Stranger wake/-s me up from this it's-a-dream-afterall...

The doors of my home are now open to that Don Juan._{It's just that the daydream seducer possesses Your traits love...}

I have time... Let's spend it together with me shouting from the other end.

Follow my voice...

Running Blindfolded, Screaming.And Carelessly Cartwheeling.

See, it's just a matter of choice.

Don't feed the monster.

Tempt not yourself.

Home has its pains.

But it also has its joys.

You are not defeated until yourself proclaims and admits it.

Six-strings are good substitutes for a couch.

Thank goodness I have good skin.

Too bad I'm short.

But the world listens when I sing.

I ran this morning and I felt like I was six again.

I am too wonderful to wallow in pain.

I remember the yellowbells I used to watch from my treetop twirling down to the ground._{I was your regular monkey-girl.}

I really should bake something .

If the love of my life refuses my future kids, sigh, I will have to settle for Marcus Schenkenberg.

Oh, and I have the most wonderful of friends and mentors.

Reader, forgive me... but I was being beset by a flood of thoughts and emotions. It felt unfair to sieve the other thoughts out so I decided to give in to these bratty children of my mind.

In Silence's Hut.

I should stay longer for our afternoon teas.

Contentedly watching the trees turn their leaves to either embrace or give in to the seasons.

I am slowly making my way back to you.

I am relearning to refine my words.

My grace got lost in too much talk.

And This somehow shames me.

But realizations like these have learned to sit comfortably with me and I don't know if I invite trouble sometimes but I am glad that at some points in my life I had the low ones. There is just so much Much...

(Sigh... I hide in metaphors because the metaphors I give birth to are the individuals who are close to my heart and I don't want to pit them against the world. I wish to keep our intimacies suggestive.)

And most of the time, what I write here are mere reminders to myself. They are the Ages of my history.

The Celebration Dad Spoke Of.

I want you to love me because you are complete without me.

I want you to love me without time, distance, silence, another, fear and doubts as the other six parties.

For that is how I have now learned to love myself.

And in that self-love, I, too, have _(re)realized the love I had _(have) for you.

But you have to meet me at the same point, beloved.

_{For I finally accepted that I would not want you any other way.}

As my 18-year-old self once said, my 26-year-old self now repeats, "Love cannot live in one who is afraid."

I can only hope to see you where fear is absent.:)

Poor Old Bush.

Forgive me for beating around you too often.

Don't worry, one of these days, I will choose not to hide in metaphors.

You will have my words in broad daylight and not shrouded in darkness.

Just ye wait.^^

Between Pride And Leniency.

My drive and patience are both wearing thin. Will it be such a crime if I now contemplate on jumping overboard?

I do not know the course the captain has plotted and for some strange reason I somehow feel that this ship has actually been sinking...

I Do Not Apologize.

For who I am.

For what I am.

For there is no crime in having...

... being myself.

But for the crimes I have committed and for the times my (I thought) well-meaning steps have crushed another's path : I ask forgiveness.

What Makes Things Worthy Of Dissertation? (or something akin to this...)

Should I unfold my sleeve?

Or maintain the now-comfortable fold?

_{Talk is cheap but sometimes the price of being able to enunciate the words that have been longing for esape is quite dear, really.}

To You Who Do Not Know The Motions Of My Sea.

I have grown strong limbs for swimming.

And my coral cries are no longer those of weeping.

I have become a being of the sea.

_{(and of the shore.)}

Strange how calm my waters have become.

_{(How steady the used-to-be-foreign land have become.)}

Wherever I shall find myself in the end, I no longer fear.

For I have found myself.

Unto myself, I am complete.

And I shall create more adjuncts of myself.

Wonderful possibilities.

I shall fulfill you all...

October Dandy Lions.

I was walking home a while back with the rain light on my face.

A smile tugging the corner of my lips.

The roads you float over are green.

The afternoons are rain-kissed and dust perfumes the air.

You bring back my childhood with you.

It's been so long since I have felt this feeling of simple contentment.

As That Night Was.

So am I Now.

I feel like I am about to be put on the shelf
to gather dust.

To silently turn yellow with age.

Ye olde maiden.

Oh Wow, I'm Daydreaming!^^

Wait! I always daydream.

Hmm... but I guess what I meant was, I haven't daydreamed high-school style in quite a long while now....

And I am not going to apologize for it.:p

All In All.

I'm glad I said yes to coming home.

I have always felt this indescribable sort of emptiness that I just didn't know how to go about filling.

That painting of Monet comes to mind...

Perhaps being on top of that hill and watching the waves of the shifting ocean didn't completely satisfy me for I was in too much of a hurry to get to the top.

I failed to see that path of sunflowers in my haste.

Now that emptiness is getting filled... I am taking the yellow view in.

Sigh... I have been away too long.

In Pieces Perhaps It Hides.

Or perhaps has hidden too long.

Now that silent, broken heart (perhaps) has caught up with the age of that old man.

Legs too old to keep beating around that bush... he lashes out.

His attacks made stronger by that heart long been kept silent.

Sigh, and I try not to lash out, too.

(I do not.)

For what do I really know about the things that drive silent, tolerant (old) men into breaking those lifelong habits?

Only thing I am sure of is that when a dam gets too ful, it spills over and floods out...

Boy Oh Boy Oh Boy!

I'm glad I'm no longer a teenager.

Otherwise I would have have been irreparably damaged.

Too old to entertain the drama.

The parts and scenes played by those actors are unknown to me.

An interactive member of the audience I am.... ill-timed. I came in at the start of Act II.

_{Did I really spring from those fatal loins?}

Finally!

I have time to:

say that on that really bitch (forgive my french) of a day, a beautiful morning and a breathtaking evening reminded me of the things that make life beautiful... so the bitch part got downplayed somehow.^^

think further that people can be mean but even mean people must have bestfriends and this general fact should somehow mean that there is still goodness in them. (grudgingly, but, yeah...)

regain my brain... haha, poor creature's been overstressed by moi.^^

"make love" to Rico.:p

think of a more suitable name aside from Rico. (so prosaic, geez)

I can edit my posts... ^^

Happy Because.

I am wonderful.^^ (guilt-free, in the absence of vanity, I admit this... at least to myself)

(and to you who may just be reading these words now)

I remained graceful, though sleepy and tired, at the end of it all.

I have two wonderful weeks waiting for me.

I can focus on Rico. (Haha, I really should be more creative but that's the only name I can think of.)

I can visit dad.

I can visit Ugly.

I can visit my duckies.

At the end of it all, there is so much to be thankful for.^^

Those Of My Roots.

Are slender.

_{Sometimes too slender I think that a single gust of wind just might carry them away to other lands.}

Are loud.

_{Most of the time too loud for comfort.}

Are cariñosa.

_{They are the voices that giggle inside dark theaters.}

Ye Of Little Faith.

Stop poking the ground.

Stop telling the seeds to sprout out and grow now now now!

Sigh... this is not my season yet.

But I shall be that late bloom.

That will stand in stark contrast to the whiteness of snow.

Only He.

Will make those stringed orbs float.

Whilst I stay on the ground.

I have to be the brown native of this earth first.

Before I can become the blue dweller of the ocean and the sky.

Haha, I Am The Cake.

No slice for you, my dear.

I'm keeping myself under that glass dome.

Away from the weight of your hands.

Away from the mist of your words.

Away from the heat of your perusal.

Opaque friend...

That Madding Crowd.

That singularly-plural force...

...Has no effect on the poles of my world.

I am as stubborn as the core of my planet...

This Orbit.

Brings in rain and snow and sun.

But... It will take me to my own season.

(The sweet pain of swirling in space.)

Punto Final.

At last

The lightest shove

Alas

The happy cliff.

An Afternoon With Jacques.

I shook my head after reading what you wrote.

And I silently whispered a word of thanks.

Dead men do tell tales...

Centuries Later...

                       Alice hopes
                        for
                       more
                           shifting rooms.

Childhood Summers.

In the belly of my little river, your own river molded itself with mine... In the eternity of my scratched and breathless childhood.

Under that old tree, I stared at the tombs of the villagers who were once as young and inexhaustible as me. Weren't they the ancient teachers of my childhood games? I never saw their faces. I only met them through words etched and painted on marble and cheap molded concrete.

Some days I chanced upon these unlikely ancestors' birthdates. My child's mind conjured up rural parties of native rice cakes and sweet broths and rare gift-wrapped packages.

That numb ached. That lost path. I am meeting them again.

Rediscovering them.

Reconciling with them.

Thanking them.

(and) apologizing for the unknown crimes I may have dealt them.

My twenty-six-year-old legs are beginning to feel like their old six years again.

I am once again floating in that river with my own belly of a little river. Staring at that same sky I've always thought was just an outstretched hand away...

These Slippers.

I stole them from my nephew... alright, I borrowed them then.

The aunt that I am.

I wish I can also borrow the paths they visit every weekend when school is blissfully THREE sleep(s) away!

When the best excuse for anything and everything was: "But I am only 6!"

Sigh... I'm forever in search of pixie dust.**

September Dragon Flies.

I'm learning the moods of my village.

I'm discovering how she is like when the roads are dry and dusty.

How she demands for rain.

How she can be both soft and temperamental.

He's Right Though.

But being so stubborn, I guess I just couldn't help it.

I know... I should look at it from a different angle and attack it from a different position.

Stop defeating them. Stop defeating myself.

I Think I Finally Understand...

They used to call me Perfecta.

And every once in a while, my mom would tell me of a three-year-old girl whose teacher described as "malawak ya isip... e ke pa sasabyan kaya ing lesson, ayntindyan na na..."

But somewhere along the _timeline, something happened...

I have always felt that something has been missing... or has been missed in my life...

At this point, I finally know that I purposely chose to underachieve... for everyone expected me to be always Perfecta...

And I hated every moment of it...

I Should Have Been Monumental.

But... not yet.

But.. in time...

For, after everything, the best thing that has resulted from all this is just the realization...

And... well.. it is enough...

As A Little Girl...

... I used to sneak out of our house to swim in the river.

... I used to steal mangoes, duhat, sineguelas.. and those grape-looking fruits whose name I never really remembered.

... I used to stay on the highest branches of trees and just daydream.

... I used to think that the holy water in our village church could heal childhood scrapes.

... I used to write letters to the Nazarene... and silently, whisper the song "One, two, three, Jesus loves me. One, two, He loves you, too..." for I thought that it would make Him smile (even impressed) to hear a little, eight-year-old girl sing a song that no one else in the village knew about...

... I used to bring my playmates to our home so that they could have bread and egg... and ketchup... (for they considered it a feast... though I considered it as just food.)

... I used to feel bad when classmates who I knew were smart, in my childish perception, were made to stay at home to help their families earn a living.

... I used to feel this ache that I knew not how to name...

And as an adult, I still feel it sometimes... and in just the same way as when I was a little girl... I still do not know how to name it...

Shifting Home Of My Childhood.

I remember watching a scene in "Alice in Wonderland" wherein Alice was falling falling falling... there were chairs and other odd furniture and now I finally understand why at that time I did not find such a scene peculiar... because, it resembled our house so much.

Until now, no matter how hard you try to pick things up and put them in their proper places- my mother is too much of a powerful force and too far in her years to change lifetime habits... habits that cannot be faulted, I guess, for she has successfully raised nine children- you never really can take over a castle that solely and rightfully belongs to my mom.

I am glad that I came home.

In this Wonderland of a home.

All a matter of perspective, right?^^

This is the perspective I choose...

How Does The Wine Taste?

I am waiting for the day when you'll finally say, "Okay, foreign mistress, it's time my lips kiss my homeland's limbs."

Make haste, love. You have to find me before another gust of wind takes you away from my waiting arms. From my too-dry shore.

Those waves are no longer touching this sand. Bid them come with you... so that those traces of _me can go back to that sea that has missed me... as you cradle me.

The Anywhere Room.

My sister is having one built right now.

It's such a delicious idea.

(and) My mouth's watering.:D

Measure For Measure.

I wonder what's gonna happen next...

What's the Duke planning next...?

I think I'll change my title to "Your Grace"

For I have one under my vestments... :D

Atrophy.

I have suffered worse deaths than this.:) I have tried to always look on the bright side of things. I make myself laugh when all I really want to do is get a pint of ice cream and sit somewhere dark and wallow and swallow.

Nobody takes a clown seriously. So I should stop finding something worth laughing about; but it is when I'm being a clown that I am actually most serious. Things are not always what they seem. Most people just don't know how much strength it takes from me to be weak. So that they may gather their own strength.

This is my sin. To the people I love. To myself.

I Make People Leave.

And I don't know how I do it.

Maybe my smiles are tiring.

Maybe my views are too askewed.

Maybe I have too much faith.

Bleed If You Must.

There is life coming into being.

I feel it.

My fingertips now understand the effort of my young limbs.

The battle scars of my knees.

They are forming their trophies now.

Listless And List-less.

I can hum a song while mouthing the words.

I read romance novels when I'm bored.

I am butterfingered.

I am hard to rouse.

I am hard to restrain.

When I am not too conscious about it, I can reach a high E.

I have a ****-face daw when I sing.

I know the reason now why the band was a hit...

I think Elvis Presley is damn sexy.

I feel hot when I sing "She Will Be Loved."

I feel hotter when I hear "Mustang Sally."

I tend to think too much.

And apparently, at this point, I've decided not to overdo it.

Random Blah. Really, It's All Blah.

There were kids playing lenten games this morning on my way to school.

I used to tie those same stems around my head when I was their age, too.

I saw this old, bent woman by the side of the road.

I wondered if she ever screamed at the height of passion in her youth.

I was thinking of doing what Fanny did.

Sing songs to the world and see if it will listen.

My dreams have been asking for a hand.

It is time I give it.

I am tired of sad faces.

I am tired of Sadness' visitations.

I will shoo it away now.

Try my best not to invite it back.

I have this secret that is wanting to burst out of me.

It wants to open its wide mouth and spread the word.

I'm telling it to shut up for now.

I remember what Kris told me.

I remember what dad told me.

There is an arrival that I am waiting for.

I do hope it comes.

This random blah now ends.

If you are now cross-eyed, blame me not.:D

...

From the same tree

All the world's children fall

Like cold leaves shivering

For the warmth of her embrace

Like ripe fruit

Kissing the earth

That fateful thud...

Lab Light.

All the world becomes a specimen under this magnifying glass emotion.

Time to turn off the light...

Crimson Joy!

My blood is dancing like a dervish around the home of my heart.

Oh but my heart is like a child that can't help but run around in the rain!

Today's profound letters: Ahihihi. ^_^

That I Love You.

({and} That you love me.)

(That I love me, too.)

'tis enough.

Enough not to deny Day's wooing(s).

To not help but partake in its festivities.

To not resist meeting it for sunbathed trysts.

To not help but allow it to carry me in (its) arms...

... turned smoky by its waning.

So You Said.

(But) You see, you don't really know the winds that pass through these walls.

You said, you'd gladly trade your mountains with this flat ground I'm on.

This tiny bit of earth where summer turns to sudden winter to sudden autumn...

These walls look weathered and cracked.. but look closely... there... I have mixed myself with the mortar of my home.

Morning Song.

(This morning, the power went out.)

(And) My nephew kept screaming "Ooohoo! Ooohoo!" when the the power came back on...

Little did he realize that his scream was in perfect pitch.:)

Sagarang Daydream.

   
More like, 

         sa gara ng daydream 
                   
                 I am in eternal summer.

She Said Hush.

So I nodded and signed, "I am now one of the things I make friends with..."

There are hidden landscapes here. Maybe I will go to that hidden hill overlooking the hidden sea... and have myself a hidden picnic.

Would you care to hide with me, Love?

Sigh... find me first... :)

Resilience.

A descendant of Johnny Campbell decided to lease one of my rooms for the next sixty years.

How can I say no?:)

The Best Hiding Place.

Metaphors.

(My friends are here.)

Sandwiched.

Pure cuteness he said. :)

How he loved her crushed lips. Her pinched nose. Her fish on land language.

Of course he was too busy basking in his joy to have left enough air for the words to be said.

But she knew, that much like her captive cheeks, his joy was likewise sandwiched between them.

Sad Creature That She's Always Been.

Amazingly bright smiles have found mothers in her lips.

She has always tried to see the world as that blurry foreground flanked by the dark mountains of her youth.

She has always found peace staring out of windows.

Wounded Heart.

Threads and threads have formed to shield it from bleeding itself dry.

And under a well-meaning sleeve, it will hide.

A wide smile will find itself its unlikely comrade.

Of different capacities.

With the same, unlikely, battle.

What Fruit?

Where can I find the tree that bears all?

So There She Lies.

A lost mass of flesh and thoughts and possibilities.

The blue sky ever rising out of her reach.

The earth refusing the contours of her back.

So there she floats.

Where There does not know Where.

So There she lies.

Even If You Push And Push.

Sigh.. alright... just one then.

One.

(Sometimes I wonder if all this control is one day gonna find me grazing with the rest of the herd in the animal farm.)

Say "Hello World!"

Testing...
            ...is this working?
                              ... APPARENTLY!

Three Years, Five Months, 13 Days...

My youthful stares, it seems, had been abandoned at sixteen... or does my mind simply badger? my old words, my old voice had gone beyond the horizon- and it was not the age of seafarers then... had they really fallen off the edge of this earth or do I just need to keep my feet planted on this shore and await their long-awaited but certain return? I know not. All I can really do right now is sigh... as I have been doing so for the past few days.

Traces of myself had made love with the sands of time and had been, sadly, wasted away by its waves.

Sometimes I wonder if the soul would have found another road to catharsis if man never discovered the great importance of sighing or the greater, liberating reality of shrugging... but my weight is not that cumbersome as yet and I can't shrug... yet.

But the weight is like that of single drop of water hitting one part of your body over and over and over again. The one redeeming difference is- it is sometimes sweet torture.

(Sometimes I still feel this. Like a leadened weight chafing my shoulder blades and pounding my skull. Only this time, I smile. Oh blessed, blessed smile. It strains my cheeks but soothes my soul.)

Inadvertent Confidante.

You have been with me since my first vivid memory. Still, I haven't thanked you yet...

Sigh, Thank You. :-)

Hank.

I think I understand now how you felt after the first pour. I wish I had the same stretch of road between dinner and myself. I wish I can spare myself of the idle chatter that will surely come after the repast.

I wish I had a metal in my pocket, too... to tell me that it was all worth it... nevertheless...

In Equal Amounts.

The realization came at a bad time but, nonetheless, I am glad it came anyway.

As They Say, "Gunyang!"

Heck, I don't know why I'm posting this. Hahaha.

(I guess) to remind myself that a (-n imaginary) spoonful of sugar helps the "medicine" go down.^_^

I Am In Banaue.

It's 5A.M. and I am walking to the hotel. I am going to have tapsilog for breakfast and have the most wonderful view from the restaurant window. I am going to meet a young girl named Dominique and we're going to share my merienda and my cup of coffee (shhh). I am going to buy three pairs of the most gorgeous earrings. I am going to take a two-hour hike. I am going to see this man who looks so much like Sting and I am going to be convinced forever that it was really him.

Yes, I am still in Banaue.

Poor Old Cup.

Now in shards.

Swept under the rug.

...

What I hate about being sad is when it starts looking very much like a soap opera.

The Circus Came To My Village.

Day in and day out, the jugglers and fire-eaters and the band intrude upon my solitude.

I think I ought to visit my river for a few days.

The circus will have to go to another festive place. I like my sleepy village sleepy.

Making Like My Ate.

So all she did was laugh, keep talking then turn her focus on the dishes that needed her attention.

If It Ain't Poultry, It's Paltry.

The why is over a cup of coffee. Or four.^_^

Cannon Smoke.

Will I find you here? Beyond the mist of the dead's long faded-away cries? Or prone and broken on the blood-wet mud? This war has been fought for too long.

I am its casualty. Its breathing casualty.

Nakakangalay.

Kaya ibababa ko na nga.:D

Tama ka, Jenny.

He Said I Do It Not Out Of Restraint.

And I deserve to be taken out and hung.

But all things are in the duality of existence... Trying to see both sides sometimes just leads you to just mere double-vision.

My eyes are beginning to feel strained.

Deepening Circles.

I keep walking around and around. I am too restless. Too restless to do anything.

All I can do is walk. And walk. And walk. And walk...

Ramblings.

A lonely ocean has formed across the planes of my chest. Unknown and extinct creatures, feasted on even in death, sink to the bottom...

Far from the reach of my hands- wrinkled by brine.

My broken lips bleed from their mute utterances of this coral language.

My lifeless body sink with them.

Bereft still of translation.

My Sleepy Head Was Dreaming.

The arm of this chair. The dirty lines of these tiles. Panels of metal and sand. The sleepy droning of this metal beast. The chatter of those green girls.

Why do they separate us, love?

Their existence conceived this bursting fruit. Like a child flailing on the ground. It threatens to shame me. It pulls at invisible wings longing for flight. Rails at invisible chains that anchor my limbs above the ground.

They're Getting Restless.

Children have been running around in my head these past weeks. They're starting to wear out the carpeting. The walls have been running out of space for their scribbling.

Sigh. Alas, they are only in my head. They are still begging to be touched, for their bruises to be kissed, for their bedtimes stories to be read, for their nightmares to be chased away... out of my head... out of my imaginings....

Love... are your children getting restless, too?

I beg you, find me... as I am getting restless, too.:(

None For Sorrow.

Rooms of different realms all lined up. Waiting for the twisting of the key, the clicking of the lock. We give these silent walls the ability of speech so that they may convey to us their wish to be given the title of the mistress' room. To be her solitary companion in her dreaming and sighing and laughing.

Fighting Romantic (+Realist, Now)..

These words suddenly came to mind once again. I used to describe myself as a fighting romantic. Sigh. I refuse to believe that romance and/or goodness deserve a kick on their respective backsides. They cannot be as elusive as life seems to make them.

...Though I do admit now that them ding-dongs did not really transform that girl back into her raggedy form nor did that strange man actually render assistance to an injured stranger whom he shared a mutual antipathy with...

Fighting Romantic (+Realist, Now) [sic] ... More like a Rambling Fighting Romantic (+Realist, Now). Haha.

Aigu... To bed I must hie...

Prerequisite Ito, Shirley.

I guess I have been putting it off for so long now that I find myself realizing that I cannot move on to the next subject (or lesson) without finishing it with at least a passing grade.

A Thought That Was Playing With My Cup Of Coffee.

Viewing it as some kind of idolatry... because it is. We all find ways to rise above this flesh and blood world. Why resign ourselves to its keeping? There is no crime and no subsequent punishment. One twist of the pipes and it all just goes askew- or straight. Always just a matter of perspective. Or twist.

Folding My Sleeve.

Lest my heart be exposed.

This Need.

To be alone with my thoughts.
Answerable to no one but myself.

"See The Pretty Girl In That Mirror There?"

That'll be me... yes... after the scary dancing, I realized that it was not as scary as I have always thought it to be. I am loved by a pretty, wonderful, uh, girl. Me.:)

This Affliction.

To cut off my roots when the soil refuses to anchor me anymore.

Some Days.

I still want him. The workings of his mind. The children of his hands.

But I cannot keep wanting that which only breaks me.

Beyond this brokeness must lie that which will reshape me into that whole person I used to be.

Though My Eyes Struggle.

My hands know the futility of trying to get acquainted with the darkness when I am in a place bereft of light.

So I make friends with the things it hides...

She Said.

Life won't hand you anything that you are incapable of handling.

I Said.

I am not happy anymore. Or is it, I am not happy Now? There is an emptiness. A hollow ache that I cannot even begin to describe. My heartstrings are frayed and my heart seems to be filling this wide expanse.

And this expanse is cold. Should I test myself? Should I try my hand at being ruthless and see how I fare?... For a moment there my heart felt brave. A bravery it has never felt before. It is a stranger. And like most strangers, it intrigues me. Tempting me for a better acquaintance of it...

Was I A Mystery Hunter?

You wore crimson cloaks on the Eve of Profession.

Still, I dubbed thee...

... And the sharp edges dubbed me.

Impasse.

My life has been composed of severed ties. From People. From Things. From Places. From Memories. From Myself.

He said know thy enemy. Sigh, I may need to know my friend, too. This enemy and friend within has lead me to this stalemate.

Still... I hope for a resolution.

Hand Me My Batleth!

I want to go Klingon on that man who gave my Star Trek Voyager CD a big gash!

:(

Where The Wind Is Confined.

The salty waters trickle down.

The heat goes up.

And only grace stays...

This Thing That Goes All Ways.

I forgive you.

I forgive her.

I forgive myself.

... How can I keep walking that stretch with this bag that simply gets heavier and heavier? I want no sore heart. I want no sore arms.

And that horizon looks promising... it needs me there right away.

Sabi Ni Ning.

Hindi nga niya alam yung lakas na nasa likod ng mga tawa ko.

To The Man Who Passed Through My Harp.

Beloved, you do not know this, but today I planted a seed. But oh, how deeply it is buried beneath the earth that light and dampness cannot even reach it. But it will thrive... it will. But the witnesses will not be the fair sunshine nor the sweet music of the birds. Only that wind that I told you about, blowing through that seemingly-accidental portal. Only that howling, ever moving friend and those still walls that echo its passing shall be the sole witnesses to this fragile, tender life. This vow...

Quintessence.

It did come into being, love... but I now wish to reject its supposed existence. We must stop bending over those implements because they simply brought us to this point in the road where you now only see my fading shadow. You cannot profess anything to my fading shape anymore...

...Those faint waverings are my already-taken steps and my already-wracked-with weeping body.

It Is When Blood Profuses The Mind, Really.

"The man who is proudly certain of his own value, will want the highest type of woman he can find, the woman he admires, the strongest, the hardest to conquer—because only the possession of a heroine will give him the sense of an achievement, not the possession of a brainless slut. ... He does not seek to gain his value, he seeks to express it. There is no conflict between the standards of his mind and the desires of his body."

What now, love? Did the fire burn too deeply... too quickly?

Sigh... I now see the ashes falling from the altar.

He Who Resides In Silence.

He is long and winding. Completely accepts every fall from my feet. Stares back without wavering. Paves himself with the memories I have made with him. Then greets me back when my legs find themselves making love yet again with the worn lines that mark his length.

Face Painting.

My words are being marked by creases.

They are begging for smiles.

I think I shall give them red, upturned lips- con bright eyes.