you know we live in a toy;

wish you were here

Thu, 17 Dec 2009 18:02:55 GMT

And you swore that you weren't certain. You swore you couldn't tell what would happen next. And I love that about you. All your little quirks and aspirations, your little goals--your little moments of insanity. You are unpredictable, and you see life as something not contained in a shell. You see the vastness of experience, and the bigness of what remains outside the box. And you see the sparkle of silence. And silence is something we both need, in this fast and changing time we call the present. Damn the tomorrows, but not to the extent of putting everything we need to do off until we never got to do them anymore. And it's a fierce solace that I feel with you, like the crashing of the waves against the yellow shore, when the sea foam dissolves into the spaces of the sandy beach, where we lay on the ground looking up at the dark, black, and twinkling sky.

And then you whispered. Those three words. When spoken on their own sounds selfish, sounds superficial, sounds dependent. But you said them with such sincerity, with such disdain, with such hate, and I felt alive. I felt strong, I felt weak. And my knees buckled at that instant, as we lay on the sand and dreamed about the days we would lie again wondering about the days we would lie again wondering... And we both knew we couldn't tell what would come next. Then you swore you weren't certain. You swear you never are. And I felt safe.

?

Tue, 03 Nov 2009 16:38:44 GMT

If you fill the spaces--the ones carved out and forgotten--if you try to fill them in, what would you fill them with?

When your body was pierced, then you claimed it wasn't yours, and you denied that you felt your blood gushing from the holes, where was your mind?

Where were you when the pile of shit in your life turned into a mountain? When it turned into a volcano of shit that spewed shit when it was heated enough on the inside?

Where was your heart last night?

Where were you?

seize the day;

Thu, 15 Oct 2009 17:15:36 GMT

Maybe one day I'll travel to nowhere in particular. Maybe I'll just keep driving, or flying, or crossing the seas on a sailboat, to nowhere in particular. Anywhere life takes me, wherever life takes me, that's where I'm supposed to be. It's all destined, isn't it? The twists and the turns of our lives? They're all part of our destinies, all part of the huge and grand plan.

They say when it's written in ink, it's an agreement. A contract, if you will--or a promise. If it's on ink, it's there for as long as the document exists. But if our lives are all planned out, where is the proof? Where is the contract--that something we signed so long ago when we agreed to be born into this world? The moment our bodies stepped into the light, our contracts were stamped, and signed, and sealed. "You agree to live on this place you call earth the way it was and is written on this life contract. Sign here." But where the hell is the proof?

Does that mean we take life into our own hands, shape and mold our futures the way we want them to be? Or does that mean we go with the flow and just live?

I, for one, am not fond of the contracts. There's always a catch. I'll do this for you if you do this for me. Repay me lest you be damned to the licks of the inferno. But I say, pity the schedule and the routine. Pity the ones who never seize the day. Carpe diem, damn it. Carpe diem. For as long as we never lose the self-control.

Carpe diem quam minimum credula postero to the end.

:)

Sat, 26 Sep 2009 11:03:00 GMT

We share a culture, same vernacular,
Love of physical humor, and time spent alone
You, with your penchant for spontaneous advents,
For sticky unrests be unearthed and then gone
You are a gift, renaissance, with a wink,
With tendencies for conversations that raise bars
You are a sage who is fueled by compassion,
Comes to nooks and crannies as balm for all scars

You make the knees of my bees weak, tremble and buckle
You make the knees of my bees weak

You are a spirit that knows of no limit,
Who knows of no ceiling, who balks at dead ends
You are a wordsmith who cares for his brothers,
Not seduced by illusion or fair-weathered friends

You make the knees of my bees weak, tremble and buckle
You make the knees of my bees weak

You are a vision who lives by the signals
Of stomach and intuition as your guide
You are a sliver of God on a platter
Who walks what he talks and who cops when he's lied

I had no choice but to hear you
You stated your case time and again
I thought about it

You treat me like I'm a princess
I'm not used to liking that
You ask how my day was

You've already won me over in spite of me
Don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet
And don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are
I couldn't help it
It's all your fault

Your love is thick and it swallowed me whole
You're so much braver than I gave you credit for
That's not lip service

You've already won me over in spite of me
Don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet
And don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are
I couldn't help it
It's all your fault

You are the bearer of unconditional things
You held your breath and the door for me
Thanks for your patience

You're the best listener that I've ever met
You're my best friend
Best friend with benefits
What took me so long

I've never felt this healthy before
I've never wanted something rational
I am aware now
I am aware now

You've already won me over in spite of me
Don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet
And don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are
I couldn't help it
It's all your fault

how can i help you?

Mon, 31 Aug 2009 07:48:12 GMT

Blah blah blah. :)

You know how we all used to have a "hiding place" when we were young? Or, even now, a little space some place that we run to when all hell breaks loose and everything caves in?

And so the walls of your hiding place crumble after they're struck. The bricks you used to build the walls are nothing but red powder and pebbles at your feet. And you stand in the middle of the mess feeling helpless and close to tears. The effort you put in building the hiding place, the blood, sweat, and tears you shed were all put to waste. The walls you built which you thought were strong enough were not strong enough. Now what do you do?

Build more walls or open yourself up to the world? Forget your hiding place or run off some place somewhere you know won't crumble at even the hardest blow? What do you do?

Thu, 23 Jul 2009 15:29:03 GMT

this is life.

on the mouths of all my friends.

Sun, 28 Jun 2009 09:55:50 GMT

Joke me something awful just like kisses on the necks of "best friends"
We're the kids who feel like dead ends
And I want to be known for my hits, not just my misses
I took a shot and didn't even come close
At trust and love and hope
And the poets are just kids who didn't make it
And never had it at all

And the record won't stop skipping
And the lies just won't stop slipping
And besides my reputation's on the line
We can fake it for the airwaves
Force our smiles, baby, half dead
From comparing myself to everyone else around me

Please put the doctor on the phone 'cause I'm not making any sense
Blame everyone but me for this mess
And my back has been breaking from this heavy heart
We never seemed so far
I'm hopelessly hopeful, you're just hopeless enough
But we never had it at all

And the record won't stop skipping
And the lies just won't stop slipping
And besides my reputation's on the line
We can fake it for the airwaves
Force our smiles, baby, half dead
From comparing myself to everyone else around me
To everyone else around me

-- FOB

fucking shit

Thu, 25 Jun 2009 16:47:16 GMT

happy birthday to myself. yeah right. you didn't even give me a chance to end my day on a happy note. good riddance when i finish studying. i will pack my bags as soon as possible and finally live on my own, free from your endless nagging and your persistently closed minds. screw you.

fuck

Mon, 25 May 2009 14:25:07 GMT

Ganun naman talaga kasi ako diba? Go with the flow? Sige, go with the flow lang, kahit ang gusto ko wala na sa usapan. Ayos lang naman. Minsan lang sana marinig niyo ang gusto ko. Kasi di lang naman kayo ang may karapatang magsabi ng gusto niyo. Tangina.

fucking cowards

Sun, 24 May 2009 09:57:13 GMT

my blood is fucking boiling right now. what if i beat your fucking windshield with a bat?
if only i was there i would've...

- punched your face
- broken your nose
- kicked your balls
- beat your head against the post
- dragged you across the floor by your hair
- threw you on the floor
- stomped on your head
- beat the fucking shit out of the both of you

but your kid was there with you, and i wasn't. good thing my dad didn't do you in. you wouldn't have lived to see daylight ever again.

who knows?

Tue, 19 May 2009 17:06:27 GMT

don't think that i don't.
coz i do.
you just don't know i do.

worlds

Mon, 18 May 2009 12:56:01 GMT

the best way to make it through with hearts and wrists in tact is to realize two out of three ain't bad.

godot

Thu, 14 May 2009 17:14:24 GMT

I should have been writing my history paper but...

I stood by the window near the fire exit at the end of the corridor. It was a quiet night, apart from the many trucks zooming past the chicken wire fences of the Ateneo. With each breath I took I inhaled cigarette smoke and pollution. I looked to my right and counted all the orange lights. There were 60. There were flashes of white behind the curtained windows of some of the rooms of the buildings across me, and I wondered what the renters were watching. Were they living through their routine shows at this time of the day? Were they watching a couple having sex on TV? Or were they already asleep and left the TV on to heighten their electricity bill?

I heard the sound of a truck horn and I looked to my left. I wondered what the guy jogging along the forest parking was thinking. Once he got back to his dorm room, he would probably take his bath, lie on his bed, and fall into a deep sleep, because exercise does that to you. I looked beyond the school and saw a million orange lights. I started, but lost count after 50. Then I wondered what it all looked like when the world was new.

I should be writing my history paper but instead I'm writing this.

What are we all waiting for?

Mon, 11 May 2009 17:44:27 GMT

FUCKING ROT IN HELL.
BITCH.

Sat, 09 May 2009 16:15:21 GMT

there are some people you really just fucking hate.

and there are some people you used to get along with really well before, until some shit happens and you end up fucking hating them after.

fuck you.

meet me in montauk

Wed, 22 Apr 2009 12:18:17 GMT

Whoa, bigla akong na-affect. Parang di yata dapat mangyari yun. Howell. Sabi nga sa Meet the Robinsons, "Keep moving forward!"

Nanunuod ba kayo ng Lifestyle Network? Alam ba niyo yung commercial na may kantang "Oye Como Va?" Okey, sige maganda nga yung kanta, inaamin ko na napapasayaw ako tuwing naririnig ko, pero medyo... Nakakaburat na. Ang kulit. Nakakasawa. Wala lang.

Keep moving forward! :)

good times

Mon, 20 Apr 2009 13:24:54 GMT

I have been gone for... more than a decade!
I'm kidding.

I vow never to eat isaw from that vendor again unless I'm some kind of sick freak to want to catch the typhoid fever the second time this month and puke my guts out forever. Well, that would make me skin and bones, the puking, if you look on the brighter side of things, but that's just... wrong. Anyway, Steve said I did get thinner. I wanted to tell him I thank the night and day vomiting sessions for that, but that would probably make him think I have an eating disorder of some kind, and I was too lazy to tell him the whole story. Read it here! Hi Steve! :P

That's really all I wanted to say.

See you around! :)

in between self-discovery and nausea

Thu, 26 Mar 2009 14:02:08 GMT

last two requirements for the semester! i am sooo excited for summer. i really can't wait to go to the beach, to play badminton, to be active! because this semester i've been so lazy to do anything related to exercise, i have gained a loooot. so to make up for it, i will be so active this summer, in exercise AND in academics.

i surprised myself this sem. my highest possible semester qpi is 3.2. that's WHOA to me because i haven't reached 3 in my three years in ateneo. and my lowest possible sem qpi is 2.75. i'm not bragging! i'm just... happy. :)

blah blah i have to start studying for philo now. but but, i'm not in the mood. damnit. maybe i'll start my paper, since i feel like writing. i'll quit blogging first and apply this writing urge to more important things in life... like my litcrit paper. haha!

and now i have to tell myself...
let go of facebook, just for tonight...
let go of facebook...
haha!

black

Mon, 16 Mar 2009 14:49:56 GMT

Sir Abad signed my book! I got so... *kilig.* Haha!

Anyway, I wrote this today at Phil Lit class. I was inspired by the story The Art of Understatement by Cristina Pantoja Hidalgo. Hope it's worth publishing someday! Feel free to comment. Haha! :P

P.S. I didn't know what to call it, so I just went with Black. :)

Black
March 16, 2009

She was in shackles
In the memory of an old painting
Of a man dressed in blue. The one
That she hung on the wall
Long before he had gone, the
Moment he gave it on
That rainy day in his bed.
It should have been a sign
Of impending doom—
Doom that would bring her
This inner bloodshed: the nights
She would waste on a bucket.
It was those eves of tears…

And her fear for the worst had
Struck at her temples.

When the magic had left,
And the painting was black,
And her shackles were lead and
Cast-iron, rusting
At her arms and feet,
Rusting at the fall
Of salt on those
Rainy nights she spent alone, the
Magic, she thought, could
Never be resurrected—
And the resurrection of her
Beating?

The resurrection that would never come—
The beating that
Would never be revived.

And the buckets would be filled
With her salt and her blood
Shed for that one figure
In that one painting
On that one night
On that one bed
In that one moment.

look at us turn away from all the rough spots;

Sun, 01 Mar 2009 16:22:20 GMT

So, I don't want to kind of chicken out, 'coz, you know, quitters never win, right? But a super duper huge hell week is coming up -- I can feel it. I might turn to chicken shit goo. It's time to start exercising my brain so I can cope with the circles of hell that these few weeks before summer break will bring. I wish to be healed, not burned by the flames of Hades. I wish to be healed by the cherubs and halos and not tortured by a kiss or a tail. Judas, Lucifer. Your cold must abandon me or I'll freeze to brain death. I have to keep warm lest I lose my mind in the mountains of schoolwork to climb before I receive my two-week freedom.

Haha they keep playing Underneath at 7-11. I wonder if people know it's a song by a girl who used to be so full of screamy angst. At least she's more tame now. Alanis btw. :P

Do you want me to write the way I really think? I don't think you'd want that. So all the works are already somewhat edited. Coz the way I think is just... blah. That is why I think I'm better at editing than writing. But that doesn't mean I like editing more.

Blah. My thoughts are scrambled eggs right now. They're always scrambled eggs.

So this is my favorite thing to do. Post quotes. Enjoy.

"The longer I live the more I see that I am never wrong about anything, and that all the pains I have so humbly taken to verify my notions have only wasted my time." -- George Bernard Shaw

"As a well-spent day brings happy sleep, so life well used brings happy death." -- Leonardo da Vinci

:)

Sat, 28 Feb 2009 06:00:31 GMT

I like shooting stars. :)

beat me up for thinking too much;

Tue, 17 Feb 2009 16:37:29 GMT

It was a little before 10:00pm when I had a funny thought as I walked back home from Kourtyard tonight. It takes no less than 70 steps from the Caffe to Xanland, but somehow I felt I was dragging my feet along the stretch of gray just to get home to rest.

The thought and theory. (Or it may be my brain pushing what little philosophies I've learned out into the conscious.)
That life is so exhaustingly social. That we all exist not in one world, but many others. Our world bubbles extend to the next person, and the next, and still the next even after a long and winding chain of interactions. That we are made up of a bajillion world bubbles interacting with a zagibajillion other bubbles floating in space, waiting to push or merge or burst each other in the safest or the most brutal way possible for bubbles to push or merge or burst. Imagine all these moving towards each other in their efforts, sometimes reciprocated, sometimes ignored. All is so tiring.

I am so tired.

But, I don't think it's something we can stop doing. I think we have to keep moving, no matter what is felt or thought or done. We have to pop bubbles and blow bubbles and push bubbles to keep our own bubbles in tact. We need to center ourselves outside ourselves in order to center ourselves inside. What I mean is, we need to let the bubbles travel and explore and discover in order for us to realize what our own bubbles mean.

WAIT. PAUSE. My heart... :-S

empty handed

Mon, 09 Feb 2009 17:58:44 GMT

Just some random shizzypoop.

First of all...
Style mo Caesar! "Hey you. :)" Voices ARE telling me to kill talaga. I wanna *staaab!!!* HAHAHAHA. You better introduce me! :P Sing me a song? STYYYYLLLEEEE. ;)

***

And here we go again with this faulty heart of mine. At times I want to tell it to stop beating, but that would just make me dead. It won't help with the palpitations. I do like speed and all that adrenaline, but not this kind of speed where I have to beat at my chest to slow the pumping down. Sometimes I feel the beat in my throat, and I end up coughing so bad and I choke. It's not all the time though, so thank God for that, and for many other things.

Internal events.
External events.

Ear Candy

Sweat
clinging like beads
on the threads of the fabric
of a glittering gown
for a ball
for a night.
Then slowly,
like spittle
down the neck of dukes and peasants,
they spew anecdotes and
random fixations.
Slowly
they spew at the top of their lungs
all the dreams and the horrors
and this life--
life left behind.
But they sparkle, these eyes
in search of a new truth,
for they
forget that they've been here,
and knowing quite well
all the nature and being
and beasts standing by
to devour them in
their burning,
they take a step
and open.

Damn, I should sleep now. I might be late for 126.2 again and I've already been warned by Ma'am Rica not to sleep too much.

But this heart!

i hope.

Sat, 07 Feb 2009 16:44:22 GMT

How apt is my icon for the present situation?

I'm still praying it won't fall apart at all.
Please keep it together.
We're all counting on you.

wonders...

Sat, 07 Feb 2009 04:51:59 GMT

What is it really with me and the lions?