Uncertainties

Sometimes we need to stop analyzing the past,
stop planning the future,
stop figuring out precisely how we feel, stop deciding exactly what we want, and just see what happens.
And if it still doesn't work
then I don't know what does.

Taking A Leap

When we're young we live in the pursuit of fun and just take a leap but as we grow up even with harness we are cautious to take a leap, because we've learned that in life, there is no safety net.

Father's Girl

It has been 15 years since his passing but there is not a day that I do not remember him and the things we have shared, our afternoon conversations and our early dawn study together. In 2 days he would have been a year older and I have no clue what year he was born. He always seemed too old to have had me. In my high school years he looked and moved like a grandfather to me although I have never met any of my grandparents. My father retired from teaching before I even went to the city to chase for my dreams in college. Yet, he has always considered me an adult even as a child and for that he has earned my friendship.One of the things that we used to do was write to each other, expressing our thoughts and feelings. I have grown so much like him. He always referred to himself an old sentimental fool. Now in my 30s I think that I have become just like him, not quite old yet, but a sentimental fool.Looking back, I don't think that I have really said my goodbyes nor have I said "I love you" to him. We were never that kind of sentimental fools it seemed, but he knew and I knew. The things we do not really say are felt in the heart. We had that bond and boundary that we respected and that made our father-daughter relationship even closer.I cannot help but say in all sincerity that I ache for a conversation with him these days. There is so much that I want to tell him. I guess I can only do that now by whispering to the wind and hopefully it gets to him somehow. I remember him teaching me how to whistle to call on the wind when the summer heat would seem unbearable back in our old house. To my surprise, the wind always seemed to blow hard whenever he whistled. My father was a learned man teaching at the local college and I always thought of him as a very intelligent man who loved to talk about politics and yet he had a whimsical side who read poetry to show his vulnerability.I recently went home and found a few of his letters I have managed to save before our house turned to ashes the year before he passed. I remember framing them a year after he passed and it has collected dust over the years. Thanks to technology I have managed to save it electronically now and I'd keep them in remembrance of him.The sentimental fool in me would tell me that I do not really need my father's old love letters to me to remember him because in my heart he is never really gone and will forever remain indelible there, but for the very same reason I don't that I do.When someone so close and so dear physically departs, you will never get over the pain but you will get used to it consoled by the memory of the one you lost and the thought that he or she wouldn't want you to go through life looking back and feel sorry.

Panumtuman sin Pagkasilasa

Bang ku tumtumun
In subay na lupahun
Jantung dih sumuhun
Sumagawa subay da pikilun
Landuh in pagsusun
Sangsa urulun
Pagdayaw sin susungun

Jantung hiyapus na
Mata kyakaruh na
In bayah uway na guna
Taptap tangisan na sadja
Panumtuman pagkasilasa
Taimaun na sadja
In ikaw lasa uwayruun na

To Write A Wrong

What one does not know, one fears. What one fears, one destroys.

This holds true in a country, where poverty drives the degradation of the coastal environment through destructive fishing activities, improper waste management, coral quarrying, poaching and mishandling of the wild creatures for tourist money.

We have seen the recent photos of whale sharks in Cebu flocked by local tourists, and I had a very strong opinion against it. Little did I know that I, just like the woman riding that whale shark in that infamous Facebook photo, would be as ignorant. The difference is, I should've known better.

Yesterday, I bonded with 2 of my nieces to go see Guimaras, a 15-20 minutes pumpboat-ride away from IloIlo City in Western Visayas. I enjoyed our island hopping experience until the stop at one of the islets ay Reymen's Resort.

We noticed there were lots of local tourists flocking the islet and our boatman asked if we wanted to see turtles. We all replied yes in unison. Who wouldn't want to see turtles? At this point of the trip the stinging itch on both my legs were getting worse and were developing reddish skin rash. I reckoned it was caused by the cheap sunblock lotion I bought at a store aggravated by salt water. It couldn't have been jelly fish stings as I were the only one who suffered the rash.

Because of the rash I have decided not to get off the boat on our stops but I wasn't able to resist the stop to see the turtle. I grabbed my iPhone and excitedly took snaps forgetting the stinging sensation on my legs and went back to the boat to upload them on Instagram.

One of my niece asked me for money and as she told me what it was for, it was then that I realized it wasn't really a turtle sanctuary as I hoped it would be. The hawksbill wasn't free to roam the sandy beach. He would have to be taken out from its small enclosed tub-like structure for a compartment when there are tourists getting off the islet. 5 pesos entrance fee per person including children, and a donation at any amount. That's what it says there on the big can beside the turtle's enclosure. I reckoned that since the turtle's captivity, it has been supporting the family that lived on that islet. My heart sank. I regretted the Instagram I have uploaded telling my friends how nice it was for the turtle to welcome us at this sanctuary. I felt sorry for this hawksbill, and I was foolish enough to have acted so touristy that I forgot and I ignored.

Internalizing Billy Joel

Everybody has a dream.
I know I had a few.
And it hurts a little bit more
Everyday
Knowing that.

not enough

there's just not enough song that can capture the very nature of your emotion, there's just not enough movie to relate to, there's just not enough sleep to make you forget, there's just not enough drug to make you feel numb, there's just not enough smoke to make you fill the void, there's just not enough quotes and words of wisdom to make you cast your doubts and clear your clouded thoughts, there's just not enough hugs and kisses to make you feel you're not alone...there's just not enough...

Poetic Nonsense

It was pouring hard the night I hailed the cab to take me to the bus stop and there's this song playing over the radio. It must be a newly released song because it was the first time I have heard it or maybe I haven't been listening to radios anymore since my retirement as a radio disc jockey. I used to have a weird way of relating an event in my life to a song. In my mind, my life's moments are theatrical scenes that deserved to have a musical score to make it even more dramatic. I have stopped doing that for a while now, but it does have a way of coming back to me at the most opportune time. I say it is weird because nobody does that really and it is just overly dramatic that one who doesn't really understand my eccentricities and knack for drama would think I am just a sore loser, a bitter sad loser or simply pathetic.


So the DJ said it was "Di Lang Ikaw" by Juris an Original Pilipino Music (OPM), a mellow dramatic ballad about losing that passion in love and breaking up just seems inevitable. The DJ went on explaining the song. A lover's stand when at a point of no return. I have heard every word in the lyrics but I wasn't thinking of someone as I listened. There I was sitting at the back seat of the cab, drenched from the rain with my backpack supporting me from falling all over the sadness that was brought about by the song, I felt a lump on my throat. It's that familiar feeling again that brought me back to my September mourns.


It hit me that I seem to find myself at a crossroad at every turn and it can be tiring. These Poetic Nouns are like my lovers. They have shaped up the way I think and feel, and how I react to certain happenings and turning points in my life. I have created a love affair with these three and so every time I falter and fail I succumb to all sorts of emotions and thoughts. The hurt is a thousand deaths every time. Maybe I am just being too schmaltzy but at that moment I felt the mush running through my veins and I simply cannot apologize every time that happens. So I surrendered to that moment.


When I find it difficult to reconcile my aspirations and my frustrations I tend to romanticize these poetic nouns that have made me fall in, fall out, and fall all over again; aspiration, hope and dream in order to breathe life to them. Through the years I have already created images for these ideals, making them come alive when an eventful drama unfolds almost too frequently. Thus making the real surreal or the surreal real, and of course adding the musical score makes up for the almost perfect excuse to be sentimental.


I really should stop romanticizing my hopes, dreams and aspirations, but for now, please pardon the mush.


Of lost hopes, shattered dreams and broken aspirations, "bulong ng isip huwag kang pakawalan, ngunit puso ko ay kailangan kang iwan..."

Pansin mo ba ang pagbabago?

Di matitigan ang iyong mga mata

Tila di na nananabik

Sa iyong yakap at halik

Sana'y malaman mo

Hindi sinasadya
Kung ang nais ko ay maging Malaya



Di lang ikaw

Di lang ikaw ang nahihirapan

Damdamin ko rin ay naguguluhan

Di lang ikaw

Di lang ikaw ang nababahala

Bulong ng isip wag kang pakawalan

Ngunit puso ko ay kailangan kang iwan



Pansin mo ba ang nararamdaman

Di na tayo magkaintindihan

Tila hindi na maibabalik

Tamis ng yakap at halik

Maaring tama ka lumalamig ang pagsinta
Sana'y malaman mong di ko sinasadya



Di lang ikaw

Di lang ikaw ang nahihirapan

Damdamin ko rin ay naguguluhan

Di lang ikaw

Di lang ikaw ang nababahala

Bulong ng isip wag kang pakawalan
Ngunit puso ko ay kailangan kang iwan



Di hahayaang habang buhay kang saktan

Di sasayangin ang iyong panahon

Ikaw ay magiging Masaya

Sa yakap at sa piling ng iba pa



"DI LANG IKAW", Juris

Neverwhere...

I dared to dream that I am more than the sum of my current circumstances and yet I seem to have the ingenious ability to blow it profoundly time and time again.

I am losing the will to make a change, I am losing the passion to reach for the vast horizon, I am numb. I am broken, yet again.

Where do I go from here?

Blindly

There is that noise again.
That cold, cutting, deafening
noise that she knows so well now.
The sharp familiarity is coming to her
painfully, almost conveniently
to unleash what she thought was already dormant.
It is spinning around inside her empty head,
dull and biting.
She lulls herself to sleep,
confused in not knowing
the difference between the realities
of the waking
and that
of the dreaming.

INDIA: Somewhere I have traveled gladly beyond any experience (e.e cummings)

Sunset @ Bongao

A Day @ Silisad Beach in Bongao

Sunset @ Sitangkai

Sitangkai Town

Untitled and Unfinished

For no particular someone or something, here goes:

I should not be writing right now
I should not be wearing my emotions and posing right now
But what do I do
When you cannot see me preen
Even though the broken shards of glass still reflect

I need you just as I need words to tell you I need you
Words are all you understand and do not understand
But know, my life is this poem
Struggling to be complete

Postcard from Tawi-Tawi, Philippines

Somewhere I have traveled gladly beyond any experience (e.e.cummings)

Ha susulan Tawi-Tawi

Quid Pro Quo

Blogging on the internet has come a long way. Talking about expressing one’s self, this is the right place to be to do the “write” stuff.

Talking about life and for the lack of it, I say I am standing on the edge of the earth. Other than hope and faith, I believe more in Tolkien’s Middle Earth or Gaiman’s Stardust. I believe that glass flowers can turn into fairies, and witches do exist to give you bright red apples when you starve in the middle of a forest. I believe in the curses of nature. I believe that what you give you will get in return. Quid pro quo.

I have stopped believing in faith realizing that it is not tangible. I have stopped holding on to hope because it did clip my wings. I am simply sashaying through the best of times and the worse of times. I toss a coin when I feel like it. Head or tail doesn’t matter I just enjoy tossing a coin and sometimes I imagine it being suspended in the air, falling only in a flick of my finger.

This is my present state of mind, suspended in the air. Inanimate moments of silence while staring at my own black shadow, overwhelmed by the smell of rain on melted earth as I bask in my own fears.

I have reached the pit some time in the past and the pendulum still sways.

Colored candies and holy smokes can only do so much to calm the rising tide inside and they are nothing but temporary salve.

I sleep less and I smoke a lot.

And yet I manage to be reasonable, but not quite enough to find the answers to my seemingly perpetual quest for the truth that I cannot handle.

I chanced upon an old friend today and somehow I felt a certain relief. There’s no point drowning in my own misery if there is still something I can do about it. What you give is what you get in return.

Quid Pro Quo.