At an hour when most people would rather be outside celebrating the night's festivity, I am in my bed with August, the BlackBerry in my hand, reading a message that I received yesterday. I have gone through it for countless times that when I close my eyes, and listen closely, I hear a once-familiar voice whisper word after word. So I try not to.
(A loud crackle prompted me to stare out the window, and yet again, I hear the night wind sing of our lonesome lullaby.)
Memories are forever but for tonight I want them like a string of lights amidst the spectacle of fireworks. Lost, but not forgotten.
*******
Should old acquiantance be forgot and never brought to mind?
- Mariah Carey, Auld Lang Syne (New Year's Anthem)
Friday, December 31, 2010
Monday, December 27, 2010
generations: engel tells all
When you try to meet bloggers outside of their respective homes, you take a risk. Apart from what you read in their blogs, you really wouldn't know anything about the writer until you finally meet him/her. There are those who'll stalk you, those who'll be clingy… the crazies. There will be people that when you meet, you'll become enemies; and of course there will be those who will become your lifelong friends.
I don't know what led me to add his Yahoo Messenger ID when I saw it, a few months after following his blog. I think I had a little crush on the writer. We certainly had one thing in common. We love the X-Men. He has a certain fascination with Psylocke, while I'm more of a fan of Bobby Drake. But more than that, he was a sensible writer.
Deep.
Romantic.
Interesting.
He is the total opposite of me. That's why I was so surprised that he accepted my invite. I did not expect that.
I was more surprised when I got to know him better. He was the opposite of who I thought the writer behind One Minute Before Dawn would be. My initial impression of Mak was that he would be an elitist snob who doesn't mingle with us commoners. He had that rich kid vibe.
But then he had to make a comment about being Kim Chiu to Gerald Anderson.
And so the barrier was broken. He was not who I expected him to be. Yeah, he tends to be serious, and a bit melodramatic, but he knows how to have fun. We got along great.
For a long time, all we talked about was blogging. Bloggers. Blog life. Write ups. We compared blog crushes. And then we opened up about our lives. Our past loves. Heartaches. I got to know Mak better. Suddenly, we're not just online pals, we became friends.
The guy's a hard nut to crack. I oftentimes tend to spill too much information to him, only to find out he's not going to spill back. But that's fine. The trick with Mak is you have to be patient. And to shut your mouth. But that's why it's easy to trust him. When you tell him something you don't want others to know, you can trust that he'll keep his word.
We've only known each other for about a year, but among the people I've met online when I started out writing, he was the one who I've been through a lot. He set me up on a date with his friend. I've been with him through a recent heartache. We slept through some parts of the movie Inception. And we've become church buddies.
It is a risk meeting people online. But in the rare instances that you meet people like Mak, you'd be glad to know that some risks have positive pay-offs.
*******
Who would've have thought that Engel would manage to tell it all in just 481 words? Engel has been a friend for over a year now, and a reader of OMBD for far longer. But really, who's counting?
I don't know what led me to add his Yahoo Messenger ID when I saw it, a few months after following his blog. I think I had a little crush on the writer. We certainly had one thing in common. We love the X-Men. He has a certain fascination with Psylocke, while I'm more of a fan of Bobby Drake. But more than that, he was a sensible writer.
Deep.
Romantic.
Interesting.
He is the total opposite of me. That's why I was so surprised that he accepted my invite. I did not expect that.
I was more surprised when I got to know him better. He was the opposite of who I thought the writer behind One Minute Before Dawn would be. My initial impression of Mak was that he would be an elitist snob who doesn't mingle with us commoners. He had that rich kid vibe.
But then he had to make a comment about being Kim Chiu to Gerald Anderson.
And so the barrier was broken. He was not who I expected him to be. Yeah, he tends to be serious, and a bit melodramatic, but he knows how to have fun. We got along great.
For a long time, all we talked about was blogging. Bloggers. Blog life. Write ups. We compared blog crushes. And then we opened up about our lives. Our past loves. Heartaches. I got to know Mak better. Suddenly, we're not just online pals, we became friends.
The guy's a hard nut to crack. I oftentimes tend to spill too much information to him, only to find out he's not going to spill back. But that's fine. The trick with Mak is you have to be patient. And to shut your mouth. But that's why it's easy to trust him. When you tell him something you don't want others to know, you can trust that he'll keep his word.
We've only known each other for about a year, but among the people I've met online when I started out writing, he was the one who I've been through a lot. He set me up on a date with his friend. I've been with him through a recent heartache. We slept through some parts of the movie Inception. And we've become church buddies.
It is a risk meeting people online. But in the rare instances that you meet people like Mak, you'd be glad to know that some risks have positive pay-offs.
*******
Who would've have thought that Engel would manage to tell it all in just 481 words? Engel has been a friend for over a year now, and a reader of OMBD for far longer. But really, who's counting?
generations: my-so-called quest
Everyone can write. But not everyone can write well.
The glory days of blogging then was all about writing what you know, sharing your thoughts and not minding how many readers will you have or how many hits you'll get.
This blogger writes very very well.
I discovered OMBD few months after the birth of my blog. Actually I was back reading and it was April 2008, that's when I commented in OMBD. You know, when you meet someone and in an instant and you'll click just like that? I guess that's what happened. In addition from that, I read somewhere that he likes a certain musical legend that I also like. And it all started there. We became good friends.
I can also recall, that was my summer vacation and that was the time he's leaving for US. We chatted most of the time and talk about his trip and someone from his travel mate and his Mickey Mouse shirt. Hehe.
Aside from throwing lines from one of our favorite films, laughing at Ana Farris in her movies, and others. What's more important are the brotherly advices he gave me. I told him he's like one of my elder siblings. And I'm thankful that he listens to me even in my most annoying ways. Hehe! have I told you I look up to you?
To you, OMBD, happy happy blog anniversary!
My only wish is that you'll come back and write more. I wish for the return of your old self, the free spirited and lighthearted posts and your music reviews and others. I know change is inevitable, and some situations modify our perspectives. What we write are mostly the things that's going through our lives but that doesn't mean we will settle to the sulky side of it. If we look on a brighter side, I know you'll comeback sharp-witted as ever, confident and optimistic.
And I can't wait for that comeback, hopefully one minute before dawn.
*******
For some reason, I am the older brother archetype for the young ones who gravitate towards me. I wonder because I'm like perennially 17. Doc Ced can attest to this. We've been making fetch happen since 2008.
The glory days of blogging then was all about writing what you know, sharing your thoughts and not minding how many readers will you have or how many hits you'll get.
This blogger writes very very well.
I discovered OMBD few months after the birth of my blog. Actually I was back reading and it was April 2008, that's when I commented in OMBD. You know, when you meet someone and in an instant and you'll click just like that? I guess that's what happened. In addition from that, I read somewhere that he likes a certain musical legend that I also like. And it all started there. We became good friends.
I can also recall, that was my summer vacation and that was the time he's leaving for US. We chatted most of the time and talk about his trip and someone from his travel mate and his Mickey Mouse shirt. Hehe.
Aside from throwing lines from one of our favorite films, laughing at Ana Farris in her movies, and others. What's more important are the brotherly advices he gave me. I told him he's like one of my elder siblings. And I'm thankful that he listens to me even in my most annoying ways. Hehe! have I told you I look up to you?
To you, OMBD, happy happy blog anniversary!
My only wish is that you'll come back and write more. I wish for the return of your old self, the free spirited and lighthearted posts and your music reviews and others. I know change is inevitable, and some situations modify our perspectives. What we write are mostly the things that's going through our lives but that doesn't mean we will settle to the sulky side of it. If we look on a brighter side, I know you'll comeback sharp-witted as ever, confident and optimistic.
And I can't wait for that comeback, hopefully one minute before dawn.
*******
For some reason, I am the older brother archetype for the young ones who gravitate towards me. I wonder because I'm like perennially 17. Doc Ced can attest to this. We've been making fetch happen since 2008.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
back to december
All too often, I find myself browsing my archive and skimming through past entries. I salvage thoughts and ideas from inspired words but more than that, there is a certain pleasure in back reading. In spite of the occasional lapses in grammar which I stumble onto and the general tackiness of some entries which I cringe on, nostalgia is almost always a wonderful treat for a sentimental fool like me.
Like today, three Christmas seasons ago, I remember being heartbroken. Well, almost. I was in that sorry state where I know that the relationship's end is nigh. I drowned myself in the words of an Enrique Iglesias song, in alternate to Binx's sermons. I remember blog hopping that night. I remember stumbling onto online journals penned by alleged cyber celebrities. I was in awe. Their works were brilliant. Their sentiments and their words rang true (or so it seemed). It dawned on me that I needed the same – an outlet where I can say what I want to say, where I can be myself in my entirety - stripped. Today, three Christmas seasons ago, I promised to never hide what I really feel.
For a time, I kept my word. I wrote of sadness and despair. I wrote of plights and delights. I wrote of crushes and love not untainted. I wrote of everything; anything that I can think of, until recently when I started to think of it as a daunting task. Writing is a struggle against silence, I know. The thing is, I've been letting the silence beat the crap out of me these past few months. I guess I thought it was better to keep mum than let out the truth because, as cliché as it sounds, the truth can be hurtful not only to me but to everyone else that is involved. That's the last thing I want to do. Apparently, I thought wrongly, and I'm blaming it on the Cuervo.
This is why I have a thing for history – mine, yours, and everyone else's. Knowledge of the past is often a key to getting good insights to the present, and the future. When I look back, I see how much I have changed and what I have become. Don't get me wrong. Change is a good thing. It’s just that sometimes, I wonder if my old self is better.
Like today, three Christmas seasons ago, I remember being heartbroken. Well, almost. I was in that sorry state where I know that the relationship's end is nigh. I drowned myself in the words of an Enrique Iglesias song, in alternate to Binx's sermons. I remember blog hopping that night. I remember stumbling onto online journals penned by alleged cyber celebrities. I was in awe. Their works were brilliant. Their sentiments and their words rang true (or so it seemed). It dawned on me that I needed the same – an outlet where I can say what I want to say, where I can be myself in my entirety - stripped. Today, three Christmas seasons ago, I promised to never hide what I really feel.
For a time, I kept my word. I wrote of sadness and despair. I wrote of plights and delights. I wrote of crushes and love not untainted. I wrote of everything; anything that I can think of, until recently when I started to think of it as a daunting task. Writing is a struggle against silence, I know. The thing is, I've been letting the silence beat the crap out of me these past few months. I guess I thought it was better to keep mum than let out the truth because, as cliché as it sounds, the truth can be hurtful not only to me but to everyone else that is involved. That's the last thing I want to do. Apparently, I thought wrongly, and I'm blaming it on the Cuervo.
This is why I have a thing for history – mine, yours, and everyone else's. Knowledge of the past is often a key to getting good insights to the present, and the future. When I look back, I see how much I have changed and what I have become. Don't get me wrong. Change is a good thing. It’s just that sometimes, I wonder if my old self is better.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
the climb
"I'm home," I remember hollering in the hope of surprising you. It was a little past ten in the evening and you weren't really expecting me until tomorrow.
"Yey," you cheered, and I saw the smile that always lights your face; the same smile that brings one to my own lips.
"Umulan dun," I said, pouting.
"Naulanan ka?"
"Madulas ba?"
"Masaya ka naman, I hope? Sana."
"Napagod ka din siguro, no?"
You went on throwing a barrage of questions until you realized how funny it sounded. "Interrogation mode," you laughed. "Na-miss lang kita."
That of course, made me smile. After all, I was more than excited to tell you how the climb went. "I had mud all over," I said. "It was fun! Paramihan kami ng dulas."
We broke into a heartfelt laughter.
"My favorite part would be the vertical climb from the falls," I remember saying. I beamed with pride thinking that it was rather an accomplishment on my end considering how I am. "The climb taught me that I should pack light and wear the appropriate footwear. Of course, those are the practical stuff." I paused before adding, "The more important thing is nawala ang kaartehan ko dahil sa bundok na yan!"
I couldn't think of another instance when you laughed this hard, and I just stared at you, listened to your hearty laughter; I took it all in and dwelled in the warm and fuzzy feeling that it gave me.
"I'm happy to know that you enjoyed your trip." You smiled. "I remember my first time. Alam mo, something in me stirs everytime I climb. Everytime I reach that summit and behold the view."
I nodded and said, "I did what you told me when I reached the summit."
Sadly, the heart never forgets.
"Mountain climbing teaches us to hold on, sometimes for dear life especially when you're in danger of falling." I remember you saying. "First travel, then struggle, finally calm - a mountaineer's philosophy."
Why?
*******
I remember those simple things. I remember 'til I cry. But the one thing I wish I'd forget, the memory I want to forget is goodbye.
- Miley Cyrus, Goodbye
"Yey," you cheered, and I saw the smile that always lights your face; the same smile that brings one to my own lips.
"Umulan dun," I said, pouting.
"Naulanan ka?"
"Madulas ba?"
"Masaya ka naman, I hope? Sana."
"Napagod ka din siguro, no?"
You went on throwing a barrage of questions until you realized how funny it sounded. "Interrogation mode," you laughed. "Na-miss lang kita."
That of course, made me smile. After all, I was more than excited to tell you how the climb went. "I had mud all over," I said. "It was fun! Paramihan kami ng dulas."
We broke into a heartfelt laughter.
"My favorite part would be the vertical climb from the falls," I remember saying. I beamed with pride thinking that it was rather an accomplishment on my end considering how I am. "The climb taught me that I should pack light and wear the appropriate footwear. Of course, those are the practical stuff." I paused before adding, "The more important thing is nawala ang kaartehan ko dahil sa bundok na yan!"
I couldn't think of another instance when you laughed this hard, and I just stared at you, listened to your hearty laughter; I took it all in and dwelled in the warm and fuzzy feeling that it gave me.
"I'm happy to know that you enjoyed your trip." You smiled. "I remember my first time. Alam mo, something in me stirs everytime I climb. Everytime I reach that summit and behold the view."
I nodded and said, "I did what you told me when I reached the summit."
"Think of me when you reach the summit; I am with you as you climb."Your words, put to heart.
Sadly, the heart never forgets.
"Mountain climbing teaches us to hold on, sometimes for dear life especially when you're in danger of falling." I remember you saying. "First travel, then struggle, finally calm - a mountaineer's philosophy."
"I did what you told me when I reached the summit."So why am I still struggling?
Why?
*******
I remember those simple things. I remember 'til I cry. But the one thing I wish I'd forget, the memory I want to forget is goodbye.
- Miley Cyrus, Goodbye
Saturday, December 11, 2010
higher education
I've always had this fascination with Marketing.
If it weren't for my father's coaxing, I would have taken it up instead of Accountancy.
"Nandiyan ang pera sa accounting," he said and of course, he was wrong.
Then again, it's most likely I would have still ended up an accounting major on account of the college's hierarchy. Accounting students may be nerdy and some may be socially inept but they're almost always Commerce's Creme de la Creme. Modesty aside, I belong there; my heart though, it belongs to Marketing.
In sophomore year, I had this marketing professor who challenged me to ace her midterm examination. If I win, I get a final grade of 1.0 on her subject. That means I don't have to attend her class for the rest of the semester. When the results came out, she gladly announced in front of the class that she owes me a grade of 1.0, and that if she can give me a grade higher than that, she would.
It was one of the best classes I have attended, and she was perhaps the best professor I have had. I'm saying this not only because she saw me as her golden boy or that she made good of her promise; more than that, she was so effective in sharing her learnings and applications in real life. She made her discussions so enticing. She groomed us to think outside the damn box. She taught the class how to appreciate and love everything that is Marketing; I can't help but think that life is Marketing so essentially, she taught us how to deal with life.
Four months ago, I tried to explain all this in one of my classes. Yes, I finally had the opportunity and necessary resources to enroll in a graduate school of business and take up what I love. Today's the last day of the term and I feel so relieved to have completed it. Truth be told, it is quite difficult to juggle studies and work and life and love. There's always a chance to drop one, if not all three, if you're not good enough a juggler.
"Pero hindi puwedeng, hindi puwede."
That's what my professor would say and I couldn't agree more.
If it weren't for my father's coaxing, I would have taken it up instead of Accountancy.
"Nandiyan ang pera sa accounting," he said and of course, he was wrong.
Then again, it's most likely I would have still ended up an accounting major on account of the college's hierarchy. Accounting students may be nerdy and some may be socially inept but they're almost always Commerce's Creme de la Creme. Modesty aside, I belong there; my heart though, it belongs to Marketing.
In sophomore year, I had this marketing professor who challenged me to ace her midterm examination. If I win, I get a final grade of 1.0 on her subject. That means I don't have to attend her class for the rest of the semester. When the results came out, she gladly announced in front of the class that she owes me a grade of 1.0, and that if she can give me a grade higher than that, she would.
It was one of the best classes I have attended, and she was perhaps the best professor I have had. I'm saying this not only because she saw me as her golden boy or that she made good of her promise; more than that, she was so effective in sharing her learnings and applications in real life. She made her discussions so enticing. She groomed us to think outside the damn box. She taught the class how to appreciate and love everything that is Marketing; I can't help but think that life is Marketing so essentially, she taught us how to deal with life.
Four months ago, I tried to explain all this in one of my classes. Yes, I finally had the opportunity and necessary resources to enroll in a graduate school of business and take up what I love. Today's the last day of the term and I feel so relieved to have completed it. Truth be told, it is quite difficult to juggle studies and work and life and love. There's always a chance to drop one, if not all three, if you're not good enough a juggler.
"Pero hindi puwedeng, hindi puwede."
That's what my professor would say and I couldn't agree more.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
luminaria
I talked of walking along the edge of a 37-storey building, and of seeing land masses that resemble chocolate mounds, and of holding adorable doe-eyed tarsiers and colorful butterflies. I spoke of pretty much everything that I have encountered during my trip to Migs, the seven-year old son of a friend who tagged along. His mom graciously offered to fetch me from the airport.
"But what about the spider?" He asked. The kid looked at me with curious eagerness in his eyes.
"The spider was this big." I said measuring a space of half-a-foot between my hands.
"What was it doing?"
"It was waiting for a butterfly to land on its web."
"Will it eat the butterfly?"
"Yes."
"What else does it eat?" The little boy asked.
"Small insects, like dragonflies and fireflies and..."
"Fireflies." He said. "What abut the monkey? Does the spider eat the monkey cos you said the monkey's like really small?"
"Not really." I said smiling. "But I think it bites the fingers of little kids that are makulit!"
Migs flashed a toothy grin, quicky stuffing his hands into his short's pockets.
"Hey, look!" I motioned for Migs to come closer and look out the car's window. My friend slowed down her driving as we neared the Ayala Triangle Gardens. The lavish decors, the majestic string of lights hanging down from the tree tops make up for a very enchanting scene, one that's likely to be seen in a Taylor Swift video.
"They're beautiful, aren't they?" I asked. Migs stared at the light show but he appeared nonchalant about it. We turned right to Paseo where more LED lights are strewn on the trees on the street's center island. Pretty blue lights, dripping, moving in a steady rhythm. They're supposed to simulate rain, or snow; to me, they're tears flowing in silence.
"Do you know they put those lights up so Santa would know where to go when he gives out his gifts?" I told Migs while pointing towards it. The boy beamed from where he's sitting; his eyes widened. "Have you written a letter to Santa yet?"
"Yes, and I asked for more Ben 10 Ultimate Alien toys." He rummaged through his back pack to show me the ones he already have. "What about you? What did you ask Santa?"
With half a smile, I looked at Migs who was now busy playing with the Ben 10 wrist gadget. His question caught me off guard. I stared at the view at his side of the window. I don't know why but I was hoping that the light displays, those teardrops - they'd give me an answer but one by one they coalesce into a mass of incadescence as we sped down the avenue; and ultimately, they turn into an indistinguishable blur.
It is not unlike what I am right now.
I need to get my shine one. I need to know what I want for Christmas, and I need to know what I want in this life.
"But what about the spider?" He asked. The kid looked at me with curious eagerness in his eyes.
"The spider was this big." I said measuring a space of half-a-foot between my hands.
"What was it doing?"
"It was waiting for a butterfly to land on its web."
"Will it eat the butterfly?"
"Yes."
"What else does it eat?" The little boy asked.
"Small insects, like dragonflies and fireflies and..."
"Fireflies." He said. "What abut the monkey? Does the spider eat the monkey cos you said the monkey's like really small?"
"Not really." I said smiling. "But I think it bites the fingers of little kids that are makulit!"
Migs flashed a toothy grin, quicky stuffing his hands into his short's pockets.
"Hey, look!" I motioned for Migs to come closer and look out the car's window. My friend slowed down her driving as we neared the Ayala Triangle Gardens. The lavish decors, the majestic string of lights hanging down from the tree tops make up for a very enchanting scene, one that's likely to be seen in a Taylor Swift video.
"They're beautiful, aren't they?" I asked. Migs stared at the light show but he appeared nonchalant about it. We turned right to Paseo where more LED lights are strewn on the trees on the street's center island. Pretty blue lights, dripping, moving in a steady rhythm. They're supposed to simulate rain, or snow; to me, they're tears flowing in silence.
"Do you know they put those lights up so Santa would know where to go when he gives out his gifts?" I told Migs while pointing towards it. The boy beamed from where he's sitting; his eyes widened. "Have you written a letter to Santa yet?"
"Yes, and I asked for more Ben 10 Ultimate Alien toys." He rummaged through his back pack to show me the ones he already have. "What about you? What did you ask Santa?"
With half a smile, I looked at Migs who was now busy playing with the Ben 10 wrist gadget. His question caught me off guard. I stared at the view at his side of the window. I don't know why but I was hoping that the light displays, those teardrops - they'd give me an answer but one by one they coalesce into a mass of incadescence as we sped down the avenue; and ultimately, they turn into an indistinguishable blur.
It is not unlike what I am right now.
I need to get my shine one. I need to know what I want for Christmas, and I need to know what I want in this life.
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