and so it has sunken in. my eyes are sore from the constant onrush of emotion from the loss of my grandmother. my second mother. my constant guardian.

it's not so much her words that i remember, but little vignettes of feeling, parcels of images of her when she was younger and i was still studying the four cities of metro manila. her clothes, her hands, the way she signed her name on my return slips and excuse letters. her smile. the way she sniffed when she kissed me. i would miss that the most. i would miss how she invited my bullies for lunch -- and how they'd eventually become my best friends.

i would miss all the things is to me.

i miss you Ma. i love you very much.

Here or in front you lean on your back

i trace the outline of your jacket strings

from an imaginary point beneath the window.

i imagine you heaving and preoccupied

with a distant sadness only your ex-wife

could explain herself, when the time comes.

even in this frosted feeling i burst

like powdered embers softly collected,

heated, burned, inflamed, microwaved.

Your scent fills this shady room

like delivery in a foil take out, the smell of sunlight

mixed with skin diffusing into the corridors

and nondescript firescapes, narrow platforms.

it is you i don't want, it is you i want to avoid.

we aren't in this together. for my sake,

i challenge this game, this agonizing wait,

this faint outline brushing against my face,

against the ghost i see where you now stand.

here or at your back i lean faceforward

to see what else lies in your hair, your uncanny

resemblance to a warning sign. your avoidance.

i suppress this tendency to burst into song

like a ripe hiccup or a stale joke. a madrigal.

Rapid

...

I have the words to say, and yet I cannot say them.

I am taken back to those times I needed you

and maybe across the cities, you've needed me too.

You were never complicated being with me

even when I would at the corner, mope over nothing.

I kept your wilted flowers in my drawer, and your letters too.

I kept the words you wanted me to say, the things we wanted to hear.

But I lost that fire and can't ignite desire aflame.

My heart still blazes all consuming, but it's not for you.

Perhaps at some point we fell into the water and I almost drowned.

Deep inside my complications, I swam faithfully.

We survived and put on board different boats. Breathing.

I could not say I thought of you, as much as my life.

I could not say I would have held on.

It's hard for me to see you, my face drenched in the rapids.

I find it hard to let go, the feelings come flooding in.

From far away, my raft was inundated

with thoughts of not coming back

....

Running

(screenshots from the video posted on Google)

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And if I only could,
I'd make a deal with God,
And I'd get him to swap our places,
Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
With no problems.

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-Kate Bush

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People do stupid things sometimes. Sometimes people do the same stupid thing over and over. Perhaps it's not about cognitive ability, but the instinctive reaction that keeps a person returning to one's comfort zone.

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Take for instance the person who does not mind being given extra responsibility at work but repeatedly does not proactively ask for it, yet continually finds boredom and frustration in the lack of direction; or the person who says he dreads facing yet another day at home, refusing to accept time and time again the importance of social contact and the benefits of a regimented work environment; or the people who toil day in and day out living off independently but find themselves prey to the financial consequences of their sympathy, to rid themselves of the guilt; or the people whose best kept secret is that they believe they keep it well.

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To each his/her own theme song. In my mind I'm simply happy that I'm listening to Kate instead of Sarah, to Adele instead of Aimee. My insides roil with that feeling that I'm not where I'm supposed to be. I can't keep still at night, I don't hear my alarm clock in the morning. I am hoping maybe this nervous energy be channeled into something more quantifiable.

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A few moments ago the office smelled like fresh rain.

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Living Life Meaningfully

terra coitus warriors

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Just 3 hours ago, Mussolini posted this link on her profile and it got me thinking how I'd like to live life more meaningfully. To be honest, I feel like a zombie everyday I go to the office. I don't particularly like where I am right now, but I feel trapped in a repetitive cycle with no way out. Truthfully, I would love to have the time to study the recipes in the numerous cookbooks I have. I would love to start a small business or maybe foray into online business like Mussolini (if only I knew how). I would love to have the time to watch all the movies gathering dust in my cabinets, to listen to all the CDs I haven't listened to in years (because I just don't have the time to convert them to iPod files before getting rid of them).

I would love to have sex and read through all the books I have about it.

I would love to have the time to travel and STAY more than 4 days in one place to really enjoy it. I would love to be in a job that engages all of me. I would love to be able to use my ideas in fashion whenever I get inspired listening to music (because it's such a waste of ideas)

I would love to smoke and not worry about cancer.

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And while I dream of these things, I have 2 business articles due tomorrow and I can't quite find the focus. If Elizabeth Gilbert can Eat.Pray.Love. I would like to Cook.Eat.Travel.Smoke.Blog.F*ck.

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Relics

As the year comes to a close, I cannot help but look back on 2011 and examine my friendships. Just recently 2 friendships ended, coincidentally occuring from 2 return flights. The first one happened when I got back from Hong Kong. We still had a chat before my trip and for reason, when I got back we were both online most of the time but we weren't talking to each other anymore. Perhaps in a way, it's therapeutic on both our ends because as a friend, I felt I wasn't able to help anymore. As a friend, I felt I failed to be totally honest about what I thought of the situation because I didnt want my friend to get hurt or to think I'm not listening. Alas, the silence is way past awkward.

The other friendship sorta ended when I got back from my Vietnam-Singapore trip. I went Ho Chi Minh to visit, but it turned out my friend would be spending the weekend in Singapore to watch F1. When we got to Singapore, my friend got into the usual mood swing at the end of the first day, and so for the rest of the trip we didn't really talk much anymore. We missed our return flight and had to book a new one. I couldn't say my first trip to Singapore was a total bust because I got see the terra cotta warriors exhibit, which somehow reminded me friendships. Some crumble like ceramic through the test of time, others stay firm and remain standing.

Hearth

I don't know how I feel about this right now. It's like it was there but it wasn't, or it wasn't there but I just couldn't accept it. Try denial. How does one distinguish between love over deep affection? Maybe I just can't let go, or maybe I'm just too afraid to deal with it. It seems I keep postponing it -- after the trip, after this weekend, etc.

I'm sorry my love, I've run out of excuses.