the greatest gift

I have had numerous presents and blessings received, not just during Christmas, but on all the events I have celebrated my entire life. Much as I try to recollect every single item that I have been given so I may choose which one would stand out among the rest, I can't.

When it comes to material things I have been fortunate enough to be one of those people who manage to get what they wish for. Don't get me wrong. I am not from a well off family. It's just that I'm lucky to get that Lego set I've been dying to have back in second grade, or that missing issue of the Tagalized X-Men comic book, or my first Gameboy, discman, pager and eventually my own 5210.

However, at the end of the day the Lego pieces will get lost one block at a time, the comic books will eventually lose its mint quality, and all the gadgets will be declared obsolete after a month or so. Nevertheless, I shall remain thankful to have received such items, and be more appreciative of the people responsible for it.

My gratitude doesn't end when these things get lost, or break beyond repair, or cease its functionality. Believe it or not, it's the thought that matters, always. No other gift jumps out as significant next to thoughtfulness.

last christmas

It's ironic that during this season, some people tend to get lonely for something that they would not normally mind not having at other times.

1minb4dwn

I know I am a capable writer.

However, a year ago I realized that I can actually do better if I'd be more uninhibited, if I'd be more true. This awakening ultimately led to the sudden dawning of One. I was already having trouble maintaining a hefty number of blogs that time and yet by some unexplainable burst of inspiration, One Minute Before Dawn was conceived in under a few minutes - published a few seconds before the clock struck twelve.

I intended it to be my diary. I want it to tell my story, my struggles, my insights and everything else - penned in its most reasonably true form.

Picture One as Victrola and the entries, the burlesque who peels away the layers of gloss, hype, inhibitions, and pretenses. Slowly. One after another. Until it is in its core – naked – real and raw.

It may be ugly. It may be beautiful. But it should never deviate from the truth. Sometimes, it can be so honest that it's actually embarrassing. But it's alright. That's when metaphors and the like come in. It's called style. Or strategy.

One's role has morphed over time and yet it still works on the same discipline when it was originally created. Posts should always pass the one-way test before it gets published. It gets difficult at times but through this exercise I have found my Voice and I learned that it is most powerful when it is pure. And when it is powerful, it is engaging and emotionally riveting. Any writer would want those adjectives used to describe their work, no?

Aside from providing a ground to enhance my writing skill, One also acts as an esteem booster. My interactions with readers are affirmations that I can be myself and not be alone in my thoughts. Through the discourse of intellect and display of emotions, we discover and build connections that we would not normally stumble upon.

One has served its purpose well these past twelve months. It did what no other blog of mine has done and for this I'll forever remember that fateful minute before dawn.

Well, probably not forever.

so beautiful

Some say that love is like a song that weaves its way through our lives. You won’t know that it exists until you start hearing it. It is a process that can never be the same twice.

When you go looking for love you’ll only end up finding something else. Just enjoy what you do best and it’ll find you.

Or you could try and listen - sometimes the best song is in the silence.

*******

Maybe trying to feel how it feels like to love again is the wrong decision, after all.
- The Sunbaked King, Comeback

if u seek a

I can never be with you. I mean,
I shouldn't be with you because I like you.

Or should I?

F*ck.

higher ground: when the stars go blue

Every day the world turns.

Every day, every night, a different piece of sky is laid out before us. Cloud patterns and star formation - these things vary from time to time. They change and yet we always get a clear memory of the things we associate with them when we want to. In my case, they remind me of moments that tend to be, more or less, a turning point in my life. Events that made a mark on my psyche.

But tonight's different. The sky is nothing but a vast empty shade of blue. I'm sure that there are low, visible clouds up there but the wind has been awfully quiet for quite some time now so those puffy things have been pretty much stationary, hence imperceptible.

Anyway, I find it ironic that this bareness triggered a memory recall about a conversation I have had regarding stars.

"Asan ka?"

"Sa rooftop lang."

"Alam mo ba, sabi nila kapag nakabilang ka daw ng pitong stars tuwing gabi for seven consecutive nights magkakatotoo ang hiling mo?"

"Saan mo naman nakuha yan?"

"Sabi ng kaibigan ko. Totoo daw yun!"

"Naniwala ka naman."

"Totoo nga. Sige, palagay mo lang na totoo ano ang hihilingin mo?"

"Hmmm... Wala akong maisip eh."

"Eh ako na lang tanungin mo."

"Oh, ano hihilingin mo kung nagawa mo nga yun?"

"Na sana gusto din ako nung taong gusto ko!"

"Okay."

"Pang-pitong gabi na ngayon."

"So nagka-totoo naman ba?"

"Ewan ko. Gusto mo na ba ako?"

"Ang corny mo ha!"

"Hahaha."

That night we laughed, talked and laughed some more, but for some reason the last question was never answered, not in the manner it should have been expressed anyway. As expected, the interest on the matter slowly waned as the days passed by and soon enough it seemingly faded into the background, and its face drowned among the sea of half-forgotten acquaintances and strangers.

Not unlike the stars when they are visible and spread out like generic incandescence, barely distinguishable from one another, or when their collective sparkle appear hidden by the onset of night.

But through the stars these things become memories worth reveling in every once in a while.

the more boys i meet

... the more I love my dog...
- Carrie Underwood, The More Boys I Meet

Meet Baron.

sunday at up [ombd edit]

The world softly calls out
For you to be up

And re-discover its lush mystique -

Through the interwoven green patchwork
Made over the brown earth

Or the intricate abstraction
Of leaves and branches
With the heavens.

And be reminded that sometimes
You have to look at things from different perspectives,

Over and

Over

To realize that there are indeed wonders
When you let your mind wander.

*******

01. Photos were taken today, December 7, 2008 during an afternoon trip at the UP Diliman Campus.
02. Blog title was lifted from an entry done by JBinx on his blog, How To Live A Life.
03. Entry contains an excerpt from The Wandering Commuter's blog tag line.