2012

The year 2011 has been quite tiring, especially because I tried to cut off some relationships. So for this coming year, I think I will most likely think twice about doing that (god help me).

I was only able to climb two mountains last year. This coming year, I would like to climb more mountains. Maybe I'll join at least two training climbs, and train for the induction climb. I'm thinking that I should climb most of the training climbs this year, para qumuota lang.

I am keen on travelling more, but it raises the question of how to save for further studies. Then again, even if I wanted to go for it this coming August, I am lacking around four hundred thousand pesos, not counting the one hundred fifty thousand pesos needed for our planned euro trip.

So the question is, how to effectively gain more "academic qualifications" in the two years that I will allow myself to work, learn and earn. Maybe a professional certificate can do it for me in the meantime.

So here I am now, excited to multi-task. I hope that god grants me a less crazies this year, so I can tick-off those goals.

I still have a year and a half to be lousy. Money stashed in the bank, and with a little bit of show-off swagger, but still pretty much lousy, undesired, uninspired and bored. I'm thinking about what I should be looking forward to next year, and to help me keep some sanity, I will spend enough for myself to go to Baguio once a month. I realise how effectively I have thrown my life away. I am 25 with no major accomplishment to show for, with a bruised ego on top of that. I wonder who I will suck appreciation from in the next years. Family. I have to look forward to something that might resemble the word. It's funny how liberating lowering expectations in life can be. When you have nothing to look forward to, the simple pleasures seem orgasmic. I woke up feeling just that-undetermined. My sister stomped heavily on the tiles, as if to proclaim, hey I'm early, I'm so busy, everyone, look at me! And I was sleeping on the couch, but not for long. I grunted to make her shut the hell up. And it was nine in the morning, and I was still happily snoozing. My mom asks loudly, aren't you going to work? And I say, I AM. As if to say, your pretend-care has no bearing. I stand up, groggy, and brood on the fact that it is hard to view someone in a different way than what you are used to. And I think, what people say no longer matters. Now if I can only look for something fun to do, and fun people to be with, I'd be on my way. Why wait, I mean, I am only growing duller, less beautiful and angrier by the minute. And so I step into the office, shit-faced. Overall unkempt-look. We have lunch in the conference room, and exchange some pleasantries. The newbie talks about getting married, how she'd really want to have kids, and I think, wow how naive can she get? I take interest in other aspects, like how her soon-to-be-hubby is ten years older (she's 26). Ms. Gemma is asked how many kids she has,when she got married. PGH is brought up, and the newbie asks why I did not take up medicine. I said, my sister followed suit. She was the obedient one. Ms. Gemma senses some frustration in the air, and says, as if to comfort me, you just developed other interests. When we return to our desks, she gives me a chocolate bar. And suggests that I try to study in Germany. I thank her. Thank god for mommy-like persons. But I think what is keeping me sane is how I'm looking forward to living with my lesbian aunt in that god-forsaken country. Just to feel some sort of CHANGE.

Spoke to mom about retirement. Realized how little savings they have, and how foolish I am for talking about the NEED to study outside the country. I'm beginning to realize what a blessing it is to be kept in the project, just because I have enough means to look forward to a bright future. Trying to internalize how I should begin to ween myself away from incurring more costs to be paid by my dad. I'm going to have this line cut so I don't always rely on my mobile phone for connectivity. I mean, if Dana can do it, why the hell can't I? Also reflecting on the need to become my own person. I'm sure that growing up in this age for my parents meant that they had to deal with the fact that they would have to wing it, it, as in everything, pretty soon. Not in the mood for so much emotions, romantic notions, free thoughts today. Feel real grounded. Scared for my parents' sake. What if someone's health conks out? I mean, it happened last year, and it was dead serious. Singapore and Southeast Asia is enough to contribute to some form of happiness that will get me through the year. Methinks entering NEDA in 2013 is a wise choice because it will passively spring me towards the development career of choice. May not be an academic person, corporate person, but at least I get to experience development issues. Volunteering for one year is also an option, only because it will somehow make me want to work for the next years. Because I foresee that life in NEDA will never be truly development-oriented for me because it will never be grassroots enough. Maybe my philanthropic self will have to wait.

I should just buy myself a fat burger and get my hair cut and buy expensive shoes and get that moleskine planner. If that won't help, I don't know what will.

***

There's something about excellence and me that can't get along fine these weeks, months, years. And yes, everything is fine. But everything is not fine ENOUGH. Certain people do not understand that, like my boss, who told me one time, "Wala ka naman dapat problemahin sa buhay mo, Mon eh."
Yeah, I can work drone-like, go to malls, date, and shit. But there's something miserably wrong with my state of mind that I can't put a finger on.

***

I'm not trying to get people to analyze me. I just want to get OUT.

Next year will be a better year for me-I'm slowly starting to develop the notion of choosing whatever it is that creates the most dopamine in my head.

I take back all my plans in life. I hope I find a new set of friends soon.

I was asked if I ever tried to be emotionally strong. I paused and thought about the what kind of strength I have consistently been trying to exude these past years. Because I felt like an emotionally strong person, only I can't put a finger as to what kind.

Looking into the worlds I dip myself into, I have been patient with the rants and raves, and have been hiking with my sister's medical journey. I have been ra-ra-ing her into finishing, comforting my parents when they feel that they have not done enough, I have advised my dad to take it easy on my sister. I have put all my small "me-s" aside, knowing that it is not as important as having the eldest become a doctor.

I have tried to level up my relationship with my mom. Woman-to-woman. I tell her how there is something left for her to do. I try to make her listen and tend to her garden of desire. I try to make her ride the guiltless train. I try to tell her, "It's okay. The world forgives you."

I have also tried to be a supportive friend. Only, there are just some circles that I cannot afford. So I do the nest best thing, retain individual friendships. I try to be as loyal as possible. Fierce with friendship, that's me.

And with all the seemingly real or possibly fake "loves", I have tried to inspire. Even if I don't admit that I have enough ember to fuel my own fire, I share. I share my own hopes and dreams hoping to fuel some fire. I try to motivate. I try to fan whatever it is they have going on. But more often than not it turns into limbo. And I feel crazy again, as if I have to greedily grab those coals and return them into my own oven.

And so when I am asked, if I have been emotionally strong, I give a mental "fuck you" in my head. And I pack my bags and mentally go on a hike, a strike, a backpacking trip to the Himalayas of my mind. And I wait for the stirring of actualizing GOING AWAY. I wait until the time is right, until I have less to lose. Until the mental "fuck you-s" have started to exponentially give birth.

Or until I see a delicious piece of distraction.

There is no imposition or coercion, I just like to flagellate myself this way.

microheartaches

My fellow coconut trees usually greeted me, flailing their arms for acknowledgement
To-day, as I sulk past them, I feel their breath on my neck as they bend backwards
Offering their consoles, their sympathy, their pats-on-the-back

I sit on the sand with my head on my knees, rocking back and forth
The sand’s playful self would usually pounce on me
To-day, it is collected, offering its massive presence for me to lie on

As I sit upright again, I cry, I bleed
The sea has never been this comforting as it rushes to me
As if for years, saltiness has found its mate in my tears

I thank them and let go, I let the sea take me

I want to ask some people out only because they have no excuses. And I don't have to pay. haha

The Gangster of Love- Lines I Love

I never quite relaxed around him, and so I stayed in love longer than I expected. He fulfilled my notion of love, which meant no one would ever get what they wanted. Love for me had never been a source of comfort, but of anxiety and longing, desire and regret. It was a terrible emotion, really. I learned that from observing the way my parents cruelly danced around each other (Hagedorn 1996)

Feeling Old and Old Feelings

Thinking about being lonely, but having family and friends around makes me think about what point in my life has been most effortlessly happy, exciting and pure. And I can only summon one image-catching dragonflies in the front yard of Lola Azon's house, and placing them in cans, and then riding the yellow jeep to go to Balulan. The cycle of garden-beach-Tita Dais' room makes me so warm and fuzzy inside, and thinking about how those memories slowly slipped from my consciousness because college rolled by makes me sad. I wish I could have spent more time there than here, because I did not really experience or witness how lola slowly lost her health, how it must have been for Tita Dais alone in the house, how everyone was trying to cling on to Lola Azon.

The memories are like jagged puzzle pieces.

The nostlagia hits as soon as the plane lands, and enters the frenzied state as the car rolls by the driveway, up to the porch. Whenever we'd go back after lola died, I noticed that the garden was unkempt, grass uncut, plants wild. The house's red paint was dull, and the house smelled wet, like wood decaying. The dogs were unfamiliar, as if they were only kept as guardians, and not as pets or companions of Tita Dais. Neighbors were also strangely unfamiliar. It was like Manapla was occupied by people unknown to us, like migrants. The old people were gone, and our playmates either moved to the city or had families already. As Tita Dais would say, "...hindi na parang dati."

If you take more time to feel the place, the original feeling comes back, somehow. Like how in the Dancing Hall, vandalism of barkada names are written all over the walls. And I don't know why Ate and I keep on doing it, but we would look for the names of our old friends, hoping that we would see someone familiar. Or how I would walk all the way to the lone tree on the far right of the sea during low tide, to look at whether the old carved heart was still visible. The memories would flood over me, and I would just walk away, extremely sad and happy at the same time.

Makes me think about the bearing of my medium-term dreams. Something inside me wants to go back to Manapla and do something. Stay there for several years, whatever. I know change will never wait for me. Tita Dais might not know me too well anymore, old friends may feel differently about me, but the mere connection with it is something that I want to feel all over again.

The remaining months will be good to me, I hope. Will heed the call of my first love. Haha. I'm 24 years old, and I have decided that there is no pressure to do anything, be anyone, achieve a certain mindset. :) Salamat, dagat.

juts instead of flowers. nice

Unfamiliar body angles

I was feeling better weeks ago-and it hit me, when I try to make some things better, I feel consumed. I took the passive side weeks ago, and felt like some sort of magnet. I was doing new things, going to new places, getting some attention, and feeling oddly, worth it. "It"-unknown.

Then I take a step back, and I find myself at home, day in, day out, in a rut. As I have been finding myself for as long as I can remember. Said no to Transformers. Maybe I just felt like sleeping. And time passes by quickly when you're sleeping. Which is a good thing. But it makes you fat. So if I sleep earlier, I'll miss out on dinner. Which is a good thing.

I texted Dart last night, and he replied. But I decided to go straight home, and I overslept. Hope he finds time for me tonight. If I don't get the urge to sleep.

I had a weird dream. Lorraine and I were hanging out in our old house. It felt so homey, and we were just cracking jokes, smoking out in the balcony. Makes me wonder why good things end so abruptly, and how the world makes it known to you.

Thank god for high school friends, who more or less know your world-view. Pat just texted. A two hour drinking spree will be delightful. I remember random high school people, usually from this circle, or from my taekwondo group, texting randomly, asking me out for drinks. I would rarely prioritize them, but now it seems like a relief, receiving texts from people who really know you.

Clear skies for the next months

Deciding today that I won't make the effort of going out until I finish this project. Afraid that it's going to jinx everything. Will have to celebrate on my birthday weekend though, just to put emphasis on BEING 25. Accepting how it okay to be by the self again, realizing that this is what you have been looking for, for the past years. Will have to force myself to do the things I normally whine about NOT doing.

Putting my imaginary monsters in a box to mold. For now.

I woke up today bright-eyed.

Give the Dog a Bone

I say give the dog a boner.
Whichever dirty option your dirty mind would like to entertain-
Give it something to chew on.

Nostalgia hides bookmark moments like these that paid a random visit, just today-
It dropped by without any pretense, like someone announcing how your
Dog took a dump on their lawn.
Replayed moments leave a bad taste in your mouth, especially
When it underscores all the things that you hate feeling
About yourself. Like that time when you were left out on a seemingly
Intellectual conversation, or when you felt like a fly, swat, suddenly cut out.
When you were left out on the street walking, or left to write on your pad
Because they were too busy masturbating their intellect.
The most hurtful of all, when you felt like, you lay there open-
But no gaze or touch reassured that one bold move.
So you wonder why, despite all these,
You wag and wait. And play by their rules.

Like a good dog ought to.

Why is it that, you can’t wrap your head on something like,
Maybe I have a point. Maybe I don’t like their single-serving graces,
And perhaps take a stroll and choose another lawn,
To take a dump on.

Throw the dog a bone, fool, for you shower people graces unknown to me, and you light up the world with you quips, your dashing glance, your swagger. Keep the bait deeper, down low-because I have trouble understanding it on higher grounds, this eagerness you have named. Keep the carrot in a distance, because I cannot run too fast, I am bone-weary.

Power struggle daw-who the fuck would think of that? What kind of sick mind would think of it that way?

Feel-good lost

This is intended to put down the uselessness, futility of this exercise I brought upon myself. It’s like having your wings clipped, but can roam the entire world, or like having an alarm on your leg, on house arrest.

Time-outs are the worse kind. It makes you pace about in your sub-conscious.

Academic exercises like these wear me out to the bone. Mind-weary, masticating the meanderings of success in its most superlative. And who would want to pass out on eternal bliss? There is value in waiting, when you realize that it is, after all, a long enough life.

Cos you will grow weary of the climax. Repeat 100,000,000 times.

How are you doing? Thanks for asking.

nakakatamad nalang talaga

In the hustle and bustle of my choice to work, I am confronted by the fact that the space between will grow larger and larger, until I cannot get my hands tied around what happened, and where it ended. Of course, I will contain this until the smoke settles. Because presently, I still cannot understand how it's going to be; seems like there are no plans in the air, maybe that's a plan in itself-there's nothing to shoot down.

When I look upon the next years, I don't know where I'm going to find myself. One thing's for sure-I cannot spend more than a minute looking at this certain attire. I could, perhaps wear it longer, if I knew that I was going to get inked soon. But you tell me not to as well-I would follow willingly if I knew I had something to anchor myself on.

There will always be those who will say but what about the longevity of it all. But not much to hold on to, you see, spending much time in then out, and most of the time out than in. Or whence in, not really in-more like a one-way street with a passive audience.

So there it is, and here they are. And dealings will be pretty much familiar, only I learned later on (with all the protocols I am growing accustomed to) all you need to do is take a step back.

Then maybe I will grow flowers of anger again, flowers that are only too familiar, like your high school best friend who you don't really know much about right now because she might have gone underground, who knows? But it will be a painful victory, stepping back, and stepping out into yourself again, reacquainting yourself with the who when you're with someone unfamiliar.

Teenage riot, I have no plans for you either. But how will I break it to you without breaking you. I can accept my age, but not my skeletons. I hate moping but it feels like forever since a starburst came my way. Teenage riot, I hope my escape plan works, and I am sorry for everything.

Being selfish right now. Because I'm idle. Because I was hoping for some starbursts this time in my life.

Things are as mundane as they were yesterday, but that doesn't mean it has less appeal everyday. Hanging out with a comfortable bunch is not always a wonderful thought. Stepping out of the pseudo-circle, you manage to find a unit who more or less eat each other's crap. Sometimes you wonder how you think you manage to nod to their convoluted theories. They make space only for their own appeal. Hey, make time for my humor.
***
I'm missing some of my less pretensious friends. Coffee it is!
***
Leaving is such a foreign concept, and there are some people I'd like to spend more time with. Surprisingly, it includes my sister.