My birthday cake from Germany

A Year Ago ...

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The way I rode the horse
was heavily padded on both:
where I was seated on the saddle
as with the articles of my legs and back.
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If in case I fell
six feet towards the ground
my fall shall have been broken
and I shall have resumed my stance
like a true professional.
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I would dust off the cauda equina
as I would my own,
and consider myself ousted
by all the other equestrians.
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Should I consider myself
too precautioned?
As yet, most of the others merely strode,
experienced in their striding
as if it were ordinary to draw the carriage.
But for me, I felt like waiting
for something about to happen.
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The way I rode the horse
was like my hands were tied
and I was merely being pulled away
by the thoroughbred.
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This poem I wrote exactly a year ago at the height of my depressive exasperation. I was around one and a half months into Nursing school and although I was top of the class, I wasn't enjoying the ride at all. Waking up for school had been a losing race all the time, and if it were not for my interest in studying Anatomy & Physiology, I would've found it pointless repeating the other minors.

I was with minors. Although most of them were friendly and nice, there wasn't anyone I could really talk to with the same verbal brilliance and intellectual tenacity as my college or high school friends. I was so bored. So very bored. And I couldn't find myself to hate them just because of this ennui. After all, they had been very nice to me and I still keep in touch with them till today.

I didn't keep a blog then so I relied on other avenues of expression like poetry, movies or music ... coffee, smokes, more smokes, and night outs with friends. In other cases, I drove myself insane with hideous thoughts on existentialism and the purpose of my life. I'd talk to myself in different tongues, I'd talk to myself till I'd fall asleep.


I had no peace of mind.


But I'm in a better place now. The Aquarian art of adaptability takes time to re-learn, but steadily, I can rebuild my life from scratch. When I learned to let go of the sense of urgency, the burden of purposiveness was lifted up from my shoulders and I've been able to appreciate my new-found mobility. My arms can reach up high again, but they can also extend a hand for others.

Like what Carolvs mentioned in his post, life just is. New goals, new hopes, new friends, new experiences, a new job ... a new perspective.

A year later, a new me.

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Salutation

I have all the words to say

keeping up with the blank spaces.

These are letters to write

envelopes to mark and seal.

I could lick through stamps

deliver the mail after I'm done

the waste basket filling up

with my crumpled draftings.

It seems the words I have

are afraid of being written

of being confirmed or edited.

I end up writing, then backspacing,

then saying them again

uttering the same letters

the same names

of people I haven't met.

I careen with my thoughts

only to myself, if to appease

that which keeps moving forward.

The keys wait, the cursor retracts

beginning my salutations.

6 Days

Change of scenery for now. I'm feeling a bit cosmic today. hehehe

This is now the template till I officially pass the quarterlife in 6 days.

A new galaxy will be born Ü

The Weekend Ends

Last Friday we took our qualifying exams for the next step in training. I was pretty confident I'd pass. However, during the oral tests, which was the highlight of the whole course, I kinda fumbled through some of the lines. In fact, I started it over on another recording, which is a criminal offense, because it was THAT bad. The 2nd attempt was better but it made me worry that I couldn't erase the 1st recording, how if they found out I sorta cheated, they'd mark me with a failing grade for sure.

It's working. Work. It's given me the sense of normalcy I asked for. In a nice way, I feel really stable. I've been quite reasonable with myself, something that doesn't happen very often.

Most of us passed the exams except for maybe 4 or 5 who still needed assessment. I urged my officemates to watch Meet The Fockers with me. We watched it and it was a very funny film, at par with the prequel, in my opinion. Barbra Streisand and Dustin Hoffman were hilarious! O god, and those geriatrics doin Yoga! I was laughing all the way through.

Saturday I went to the hospital to visit my grandmother along with my aunt who flew in from Ashburn, Virginia. My grandmother's looking great. I gave her a kiss on the forehead but didn't get too close because I had colds that day and feared infecting her. Really. They found a bit of pneumonia again but gave her some antibiotics already. She's gonna be fine, thank god.

I went to Corinthian Gardens and played tennis with 2 of my high school buddies. The last time I played was around July or August last year. In short, I sucked big time. My forehand scattered the balls all over the place, I had NO backhand except for short floating underspins. My serve was horribly nerfy. The only thing goin for me that day was my running, which is useless if you can't get the ball inside the court.

Moving on, to prepare myself for the graveyard shift, I slept really late. I tried watching this series called Dead Like Me, which my classmate from Ontario sent me last Christmas. It was shitty how the TV's fcuked up. The volume switch doesn't work; the sound comes and goes at random. I figured I wouldn't be able to enjoy the pilot episode because there were no subtitles. To keep my fuse from blowing up, I decided to watch something incredibly lame so I won't feel so bad. I watched Ella Enchanted.

The next day, Sunday, I woke up at 2pm. I met up with Nikkita at Greenbelt where she was shopping for something to wear for a wedding. You wouldn't believe the kind of clothes they sell over at Landmark. Like what she whispered to me, "It's where bad fabrics go to die." Hahahaha

We watched Ocean's 12, which had a fantastic soundtrack and entertaining dose of humour (though I still like Ocean's 11 better). After that, we decided to watch Kung Fu Hustle, this karate comedy written and produced by Stephen Chow. Not all parts were funny (as the same was with Shaolin Soccer) but the scene where he's stabbed thrice and gets bitten by 2 cobras in the mouth was hysterical! Also, it was very politically incorrect. It reminds me of the Wayans brothers or Ben Stiller movies.

I commented to Nikkita how it's a pity we can't make the same quality films locally. I'm not even talking about the storyline or the special effects. Hello??!! Kung Fu Hustle!! When I say quality, I mean the beauty and simplicity of the shots. Eventhough it was a comedy, you could see how each scene was treated with artistry, that they didn't just round up people to adlib for a believable slapstick no-brainer. There was effort in the choreography, the make-up, the lighting, the costumes and milieu, the special effects.

Sigh ... I wish we could do the same here.

"And I'm beyond your peripheral vision
so you might want to turn your head."

3048

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"That era has passed. Nothing that belonged to it exists any more. He remembers those vanished years. As though looking through a dusty window pane, the past is something he could see, but not touch. And everything he sees is blurred and indistinct."

-- from In the Mood for Love

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I don't know exactly why but ever since my grandmother survived pneumonia last year, I had begun to unintentionally avoid visiting her regularly. We live in the same house so it shouldn't have taken the least bit of effort to go into her room and make my presence felt. Me, one of her favorite grandchildren from the time my family moved in in 1989.

I love my grandma so much, at one point I even felt more love for her than for my own mother. She had always been there for me and took care of me whenever my parents would go to Baguio on periodic occasions. She took care of the house, spoiled us with food and material comforts, money. She had been the strength of the whole household and the whole clan. I really love her, but lately, I couldn't seem to reciprocate the same concern, the same responsibility. Perhaps it's because I hate seeing her in distress, I hate seeing her 97-year old body in a worse condition now than it was a few years back. Maybe I fear losing her and reopening the envelopment of emotions I've kept since the last time I saw her in pain.

She was admitted to the hospital last Saturday because she had experienced difficulty in breathing. It was early afternoon and I was busy preparing for 2 gatherings that evening. I prioritized these over accompanying her ride to the hospital. I didn't even visit her in the room to greet her or make my presence felt before I went on my way. I kept my guilt for the rest of the night.

My sister and I visited her last Sunday. 3048. We were wearing gas masks so as not to transfer any communicable illnesses from outside. She was sitting on her bed, the saline solution attached to her right hand, all okay. She looked healthy and happy.

My sister and I sat on opposite sides of her, clutching her hands and gently caressing her wrinkled sinews. She asked me why I hadn't visited the last 3 days. I told her I had been at work, which was true, but it undermined the fact that I hadn't seen her in more than a week. I tucked her thin, light brown hair behind her ear, the way I always do, and I told her how pretty she is. She smiled and told me how much she loves me. She gave me a warm kiss, the kind where she inhales deeply, the sound of which was as if she were smelling fresh flowers. She's the only person I know who kisses like that.

I told her I love her too.

And for a moment there, I felt like I was the same 11-year old boy who'd accompany her going up the stairs, who'd lie down in her bed while she'd tell the story about the monkey and the turtle, who'd receive honors in school and make her proud; the little boy she fought the bully for when she found ballpen marks all over his arms.

For a moment there, I felt as if I had been forgiven.

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A Work in Progress (Part Two)

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We transferred to Decades, which is a low-end dance club located in one of the side streets. There were a lot of people there and although they didn't seem interested in dancing the night away, they looked pretty game about it. We were about to step inside past the queue when my friend Elliot was stopped by the bouncer and was told that slippers weren't allowed. True enough, he was wearing black Havaianas. Oh well, they WERE slippers. When we were outside walking towards the car, he noticed how there had been a tiny bit of wet candy on top of his right foot. Eeeeewwww gross! I found it absolutely hilarious! It truly wasn't his night. :D

We went to Whistestop because he wanted to grab a bite. Me and Juliegorjus ordered what on the menu was described as "extra thick milkshake." We started catching up on each other's lives now that we were working in different companies and all. It's amazing how much we've grown from being those deliquent agents a couple of years back. So much has changed, yet so much remains the same.

My chocolate milkshake arrived. I tried to sip on it through the straw but somewhere it got stuck. I lifted the straw and saw this huge chunk of ice cream blocking the bottom end. The "extra thick milkshake" was nothing but melted ice cream. Ummm ... okay ....

After a few moments, the conversation started to get a little bit more personal, but in a frivolous way. Same old, same old. And then three of them had to go home. It was around 3:30 in the morning. Soon, it was only me and Elliot who were left. We transferred to Baang Coffeeshop since it was the only one open at 4.

It was the first deep conversation I've had with him. We were pretty open about a lot of stuff, very much on the same level in terms of our current situation, yet it was very obvious that there were some things we wanted to keep for ourselves. Normally he's a very talkative and energetic person; he was less of that this morning. Throughout the silences, I felt his pain, in those unguarded moments of honesty. He was trying to be strong perhaps for me or maybe for himself. He wanted to give me advice about life but he said he was a work in progress himself. And although I wanted to ask a lot of questions, I felt he didn't want to fumble on his own tightrope. That's the thing with Geminis. Not that I'm generalizing or anything, it's just an observation. They can be very loquacious and seemingly open about stuff but a truly discerning person can tell they're keeping much more underneath the surface. They are very strong individuals but intensely emotional and only show weakness when they're by themselves. They know lots of people but only a handful (or less) truly know who they are.

In some ways I feel the same.
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A Work in Progress (Part One)

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I met up with my college friends at California Pizza Kitchen QC area to celebrate bismuth's 25th birthday. It was a party of 5 out of the usual 9. We had delicious pasta and pizza together with hearty conversations about life. Same old, same old, the kind of gathering that would make one feel at home. We transferred to Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf right beside it to continue the merriment. It was very breezy last night so those without sweaters definitely regret not having second skin. For the most part, on the 2nd floor open air deck, we discussed about work, working out, depression, relationships, and when Mussolini went home early, this indie documentary entitled Riles (Railroad Tracks). The Bankero gave a very poignant description about this family who lived beside the railroad tracks who were threatened of eviction. He gave me and Bismuth an interestingly detailed imagery of how the wife was such a thinker who worried about her family's future, how the husband was a balut vendor who was a drunkard, how they had 2 children who'd play along the tracks seemingly inured to the dangers of getting hit by the train. He had described how the family's love for karaoke would come as the background music and how the lyrics were very apt in the their travails as survivors in a harshly depressed country that never runs out of economic crises. He described how in the final part, the family was evicted and that while they were frantically picking up the lot of their material possessions, there were men already dismantling their cardboard house; this happening with a brief segue of the dilapidated train momentarily crossing the riles, the only thing you see on camera for a few seconds. After its passing, we see the poor family again and the striking reality beyond the distraction. He said, "what most people see is the train, but we play blind to the poverty that surrounds us." Very powerful indeed. Something to stir up the bourgeoisie senses.

When everyone else left, I had to ask for directions on where to find Brannigan's. It seems no one knows where it is. I walked and waited for more than an hour until my Marshe friends from my former company came to rescue my rotting corpse in front of what I realized was a pick up place for prostitutes. We found Brannigan's. It was old and resembled a beach resort. The monoblock chairs and tables were ashen blue instead of white, the toilets didn't have locks, it was poorly lit, the service was bad, they didn't have any other drinks except SMB Light and Pale Pilsen, their 5-shot tequila promo came with 5 regular glasses instead of shot glasses (which we found excruciatingly hilarious), their fried chicken was bland, and the worst part of it all, their hot sauce bottle was a formaldehyde pool of decaying ants and baby cockroaches. It was terrible. Just terrible. And to top it all off, the wind was still chilly.

There was one time when my older sister's boyfriend went to pee in the toilet. He came back and told us how this woman suddenly walked in on him midstream and saw his birdy. I found it abso-fucking-lutely hysterical! Hahahahaha

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like a spiral in a circle, neither ending nor beginning

Dialogue

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ennui: I dreamt of Pi last night. The second time like an apparition. We were friends.

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ergo: I do not find any meaning to this.

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ennui: It's not supposed to mean anything. Given all the numbers I've found, there is no syntax yet.

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ergo: The ability to read syntagmatically comes with experience.

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ennui: I know, yet it's a strange feeling where you think you know all the permutations but in the end, still find yourself at a loss.

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ergo: There are other numbers out there. Other constants. Why not look for them?

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ennui: I am. I try. It's all too exhausting putting out so much energy into finding the connection between numbers. I'm not that good with math.

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ergo: But the point of mathematics is in its application to human existence. You have your own number. Use it.

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ennui: I'm afraid people don't understand my language.

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ergo: The language of numbers is universal.

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ennui: It is, but permutations are arbitrary. I have let go of Pi, yet being the constant that it is, it comes back 360 degrees later.

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ergo: That is the universe running its cycles. Go and study the patterns, apply what you discover for something new.

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ennui: I am not hopeless am I?

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ergo: No, but hope puts randomness in order.

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A New DIET

Hello to all! I'm sorry for having been so quiet the past few days. I'd really love to be my quasi-eloquent self right now but I'm too beat up to elaborate. As my communication professors would say, "Brevity is the art of good communication." This'll be brief. (Or so I thought ... I just finished typing ...)

I had a series of interviews and tests last Monday. It started at 9am and ended at 7pm. I was actually on my way home at 5, expected to go back the next day for my final interview but the HR called up and had me go back the last minute. I was thrilled.

The next day, Tuesday, I already started training with 18 other people. Wasn't so bad really. We just typed and typed and typed, read aloud, and with emotion, a bit of mundane conversation, some very interesting racist comments, and around 3 or 4 bits of sexually-explicit dialogue. I thought to myself, "Hey! I can do THIS for a living!" Hahahaha

During the first 2 days of training, I was able to squeeze in 2 nightouts. The first one with Nikkita. She caught up with me inside the bus just as it was about to leave, then we hopped out and went to Coffee Bean for some classic tea. It was fantastic. I never thought tea could be sooooo goooood! Hahahaha I'm swearing off coffee for some Chai or Japanese Cherry with vanilla powder and a bit of cinnamon. Yum ...

The 2nd night, I met up with Nikkita again, along with Luke and Joeboy. She was supposed to treat us to see Ocean's 12 but she claimed to have been "hostaged" by her boss. We ended up in Coffee Bean again with some more of the tea. Yum ...

So now, I realize I'll be too tired to go walking after work and too sleepy to go walking in the morning. My weightloss routine's on hold for now. (Nikkita claims I'm bordering on anorexic) (like Karen Carpenter) Even then, I am introduced to a new "diet":

Diction Intonation Emotion Typing


It's funny really, the sense of "normalcy" I've been asking for still leaves me gasping for breath. Ü

waning oceans ...

Slow travel over the oceans before the light begins to wane ...





"the tides fly off like moonlight dreams
and memory forgets that it forgets
remembrance is foretold by absent waves
gentling fading shores, mocking with temerity
the never-ever ideologies of water
immersed in sould
and soul is immersed in fire --
glorious flames borne out of
waning oceans."

-- waning oceans written by her



Yesterday I met up with my posse just to get out of the house. I wanted to see people, to experience life. When I got back to our seat with an order of coffee, my two friends were very quiet. Then one of them walked out, walked away and rode a cab. I didn't want to ruin my night so I tried my best to converse even if meant being a bit intrusive and knowing wtf just happened.

We talked till 2:30am and my day/night had been restored.

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It seems I've become an emotion junkie. It's not about being hooked on just 1 emotion but on the whole spectrum that life has to offer. Fear, doubt, resilience, mania, invincibility, pride, emptiness, pulchritude, urgency, malevolence, vindication ...

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I read through a lot of other blogs when I'm online (like all of you do) and I guess you're all familiar with the feeling that you know what these people are going through, that you were once in the same situation dealing with it your own way. You'd comment if you know the comment helps (and it usually does). It's amazing how sometimes the situation is the same for all of us. You'd think you're alone, but in reality, everyone's going through the same thing.

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"oceans never really wane, but memories do. there are some memories which serve their purpose when we let go of them. yet in some cases, some very special people are best held on to. sometimes, for some people, memories are treasures, because sometimes, memores are all we have."



While this day would formally mark the last of 2004 for me (not because I'm celebrating the Chinese New Year or anything), I'm allowing myself to breathe a sigh of relief for the year that was. Had I chosen to completely abandon myself on top of a building or with a bottle of pharmaceutical painkillers while playing Karen Carpenter's "End of the World", I would'nt have lived to experience all the beautiful things, known all you beautiful friends, learned several new things since I started writing on this new blog. It makes me hopeful that a lot more will come my way. It makes me hopeful that I can still lose sight of the shore and enjoy the journey again like I was 25 years old once more.

Meal for Squares

"Til it's over and then
It's nice and quiet
But soon again
Starts another big riot..."

-- It's Oh So Quiet by Bjork



I am emotionless. I have been without emotion. It is unique from being indifferent or apathetic because it would've been a conscious effort on my part to be this way. But it hasn't. This is the reason why I haven't been able to write anything down for the past few days. I have a lot of things to write about but nothing seems to compel me to express anything as eloquently. Nothing, until tonight when I'm fed a new morsel for my adventure.

This I discovered during a last minute meeting with my blogger friends over coffee. For the most part I had been aloof. During the meal, during the stroll, during the story telling and the sharing of seats. This aloofness, this lack of clarity, was the main reason why I wanted to go out tonight. I wanted to seek the reason behind the temporary anhedonia that's plaguing me again. So, while she was trying her best to reach out and help me reconnect, my mind had been wandering all around in limbo. I was there while ordering a Viennese brew ... limbo. Freshening up in the restroom ... limbo. Listening intently and expressing interest (and I really tried) ... limbo. The only thing I remember now was the repeating lyrics to the song being played:

Happiness is free when you lose your mind. Happiness is free when you look inside.

When she and he began their conversation, right there the reason went staring at me in the face. I am without feeling; I had been trying to put to rest all the possibilities of feeling until I shall have gotten a job and can talk about something else besides the been there, done that quarterlife crisis verbiage and the quirky alone aspect of my life. This hadn't been what I was looking for, but thank god I have something to point my finger at, a new specie in my growing study on the taxonomy of human emotions.

Moving on, I attribute this lack of verbal concern to my stable sense of mind recently. I had been neither happy nor sad, apprehensive nor excited. There was nothing of the sort that would help me relate to being high on Prothiaden, no empowering purpose or chagrin to calm my nerves. I thrive on chaos and this emotional staleness had made everything unbearably ho-hum.

It's either I'm experiencing an emotional block or I'm in the process of waiting for another turbulent episode, the proverbial calm before the storm type of thing. The storm being the potential new job within reach this month. Not that I'm fearing it, no. I actually look forward for it to bring me some degree of normalcy, organization, lucidity, into my predominantly randomized existence. I need to have the schedule, the pressing urgency to wake up every morning and walk through the streets like all the other corporate yuppies aiming to get to the office on time. I need a new distraction if I'm not getting the real thing.

Just recently, I've tried to fasten my belt over jumping overboard with open arms unto an entity that seems not to exhibit the same level interest as I'm putting out. I don't want to end up sad and depressed again like last time, to not get too carried away by the euphoria of seeking connection with the cosmos and its constituents. Although I'm all-too prepared to venture out into unknown territory again, I feel I have to learn self-restraint first, to imbibe a militaristic sense of discipline in myself because all this time, I'm afraid I've become too indulgent -- on coffee, smokes, water, artificial sweeteners, fruit juices, cereal, peanut butter sandwiches, salads, milk ... anything outside a meal to soothe the pain of not eating as much anymore. I'm looking for a substitute. I'm seeking something that can KILL the need for substitutes.


I need a square meal.

The Resolution

"The things we hold on to are the things we can walk away from. Think about it."
-- Madonna on the Oprah Show



What started out as a comment in somebody else's blog, became a whole new entry for mine.

I do admit that I haven't been writing a lot the past few days and substituting pictures in exchange for a thousand words. It's not that I didn't have anything new to write about. Quite the opposite, in fact. The truth is, I had found myself focusing my attention on other things. They weren't necessarily important or groundbreaking, they were simply stuff I hadn't done in a while. Although going online and immersing myself in the interesting world of digital connectivity had given me much to be grateful for, like sanity, for instance, it had also in some ways caused me a great deal of grief and confusion. It had shown me the great many things I could achieve for myself, but had also slapped me with all the things I couldn't, at least not for the moment I had been hoping for.

During New Year's, while everyone else had probably planned out a list of resolutions, there was only one resolution I've vowed to commit to and that is to keep an open mind. Resolutions are there to guide us toward our goals but it doesn't mean they're not subject to change. Besides, it shouldn't take you a whole year to decide what to do or what to tweak, with regard to certain exceptions I have to add. The bottomline is, we have to be more flexible with the time.

And speaking of time, I've figured that the months I spent unsobering from emotional turmoil was not time wasted. All that meandering in the darkness had given me so much wisdom, so much knowledge about frailty that not all people may come to know of or learn about. In a way, I feel lucky to have gone through so much and lived out the wiser. I am stronger than what I give myself credit for, I only need to be careful with imparting what I know for those who want to know.

I've decided not be to hard on myself and my seemingly slow progress. I'm consciously trying not to compare myself to other people. I've decided to focus on what needs to be done during the moment and not dwell on analyzing and planning what to do next. It isn't a matter of patience or faith, it's a matter of adapting.

In line with this, I've learned to accept my avoidant nature. Escape is my way of dealing with the demons at first attack, but it doesn't mean I won't confront these conflicts at all. I'll deal with it my own way.

Life is a series of moments of holding on and letting go. For now, it's been about realizing which of certain issues, dreams, and people I should hold on to or let go of. Just this year, I've held on to my greatest dream only to find myself dying of it; the moment I let go, my life went into full tilt. I've accomplished one of my earliest and most difficult childhood goals only to sever ties with a close friend because of it. I've gone through many "firsts" this year and I am thankful for these experiences. It certainly feels like a rebirth.

In many ways, 2004 had been the worst year of my life, but it had also been the most revolutionary so far. I can't wait for the rest of 2005 to bring it on!

With all the tragedies and crises around us, we are taught to be content. Perhaps contentment isn't about being satisfied or happy with what you have, but simply feeling this happiness regardless.


This may very well be the path to genuine self-discovery, the rebirth of the individual.