Sabi nila, sabi ko

Sabi ng The Hush Sound, "You are broken and callow/ Cautious and safe/ You are boundless and beauty/ With fright in your face/ Until someone loves you/ I'll keep you safe/ But like them, I will give you away."

Sabi ng Stars, "Eighteen alone, in love with the answer phone/ And too afraid, you're too afraid to fall for anything/ And too afraid, much too afraid to sing."

Sabi ng Bastille, "You have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve/ And I have always buried them deep beneath the ground" ... "All of your flaws and all of my flaws/ Are laid out one by one/ Look at the wonderful mess that we made/ We pick ourselves undone."

Sabi ng Stars, "What can't be decided/ In the morning it will bring itself to you/ I can see what's coming, but I'm not saying it."

Sabi ng Panic! At The Disco, "When the moon found the sun/ He looked like he was barely hanging on/ But her eyes saved his life/ In the middle of summer."

Sabi ng The Hush Sound, "All we need is a little bit of momentum/ Break down these walls that we've built around ourselves/ All we need is a little bit of inertia/ Break down and tell/ Break down and tell."

Sabi ng Bastille, "Oh I feel overjoyed/ When you listen to my words/ I see them sinking in/ Oh I see them crawling underneath your skin."

Sabi ng Panic! At The Disco, "I taste you on my lips and I can't get rid of you/ So I say damn your kiss and the awful things you do/ Yeah, you're worse than nicotine, nicotine."

Sabi ng Stars, "And the only way to last/ And the only way to live it/ Is to hold on when you get love,/ And let go when you give it... give it."

Sabi ng The Hush Sound, "You're the finest thing that I've done/ The hurricane I'll never outrun/ I could wait around for the dust to still/ But I don't believe that it ever will."

Pero sabi ng Stars, "I am trying to say/ What I want to say/ Without having to say/ 'I love you'."

(But it's impossible to say)

'I love you'

(Without having to say)

'I love you'

Kaya ang sabi ko, sa wakas, "Mahal kita." :)

The little (not-quite) pauses in the frenetic last quarter of 2014

The moment October began, there was already the sense of foreboding that stress and long nights for the next few weeks would bring, so much reminiscent of my hell weeks (months!) in college. I guess it was a good move to have started the last quarter of the year with a beach getaway.

Indeed, last quarter of the year included a lot of events and incidences, with some that stood out, and some that passed me by hurriedly. I guess as the year draws to its close, it runs up to me and forces me to make up for my complacency and directionlessness, to top the holiday season off.

In October, I was deliberated for a position/promotion in our office. Because of everyone's preoccupation on the diamond jubilee of our Department, I only ever got to finish the written exam in the morning of the final interview. Awake until four in the morning answering essay questions, I certainly felt like an undergrad cramming finishing up a final paper. Thankfully, the panel interview went well, and I certainly aced the exam, if I say so myself. Haha!

Most of October and November, meanwhile, had me coordinating and writing materials and attending meetings and following up on requests for the activities of the Department's anniversary, which was indeed a historic national event that I am glad to have been a part of. 

On November 16, I took Miguel with me to the Drill and Static Display held at the Department. Since he's been a military weapon enthusiast (guns and tanks, if I am correct), I knew he would appreciate seeing in person many of the military hardware and equipment put on display for public viewing. It's amusing how excited he was when the Philippine Army Marching Band played the Imperial March from Star Wars. Sana daw tugtugin ulit at mas mahaba pa. :)) I also had the chance to take him to the AFP Museum showcasing military history of the Philippines which was open for all that day. Despite the tiresome strolling and going around the parade grounds under the sun, the little brother said he enjoyed being able to ride the choppers and tanks, and holding and posing with the rifles. It was great to have seen him have his fill of his interest.

On D-Day on November 17, we had the main anniversary celebration graced by the President. All of us in the office breathed a sigh of relief after the program ended without much mishaps. It was a success, and our efforts and late nights were indeed worth it.

Because of the frenzy with the diamond anniversary, I almost lost track of time and was startled to realize that I had turned 24. *cue existentialist musings/quarter-life crisis questions* I celebrated the occasion at the office since it was a weekday, where we had great and delicious lunch (my office mates' words!) courtesy of my parents' cooking. Haha. 

In the afternoon, I had a visitor who brought me a chocolate cake. :3 Since he bought it from Sweet Inspirations, he called it "Sweet Inspiration for my sweet inspiration." Hashtag #aynako hahahaha.

Before November ended, a few of my office mates and I pushed through with our plan to go to Laguna and trek to the Magdapio/Pagsanjan Falls. After work on a Friday, we headed to Cavinti where we stayed the night at the house of our office mate. It was drizzling in the morning when we went for the hike, and so when we got to the falls, the water was a little murky. Even so, we had an exciting time riding the raft and going to the cavern under the raging falls. The water was cold, and the rush of the falls was deafening to the ears, but it was exhilarating! 

The hike back up was tiring, and we were quite hungry from the adrenaline rush. But it was fun and I certainly would want to go back with my friends who enjoy outdoor adventures such as this.

The start of the last month of the year meant that the little guy in our family is turning a year older. Because he has seen a lot of features of it on TV, and because his sisters seem to frequent it to eat out with friends, Miguel requested that we take him to Maginhawa for his 10th birthday. Of course, the Ate had no choice and obliged. We had a hearty early dinner at Friuli Trattoria, one of my all-time favorites in the street and definitely my go-to place when introducing people to Maginhawa. Hehe.

It was quite a while since we had everyone present for a dine out, and this one is more special because the family had the "plus ones" join. Haha. And the birthday celebrant had his fill of pizza and pasta, too, and seemed to have enjoyed the place. I guess it won't be long before he asks me to bring him to Maginhawa again. The day was also special because, when I went back to work the following day, I was told that my appointment/promotion was signed and approved on December 1 itself. :D

There are still some days before the month, and the year, ends. Apart from the more obvious tasks and responsibilities, there are some more non-material/physical endeavors and issues I have to address. I could only sigh and plod on through this adult life. I might even make myself believe that I'm tired and lost, and would just like to sleep forever. (OA! Haha.) But the little pauses and great moments like these I am fortunate to have with the people I care for are enough rewards for the stress, pressure, and sleeplessness I encounter and will continue to encounter.

It is not enough to be dumbstruck

Tell me a piece of your history
that you're proud to call your own
Speak in words you picked up
as you walked through life alone.

— Bastille, The Silence

Beach in October!

Cagbalete Island, Mauban, Quezon
October 4-5, 2014

When the invitation to join a beach escapade from Toto came, I immediately convinced myself that October's not too late to own the year, especially in terms of travels. So I replied "count me in" then and there. Despite the threat of Typhoon Neneng during the first weekend of the month, we still trooped to meet and head off to Quezon.

Aside from our scary encounter with a parade of people in white en route Quezon at four in the morning (Four. In. The. Morning.) who were murmuring chants we couldn't make out, and carrying candles and incense along the only section of dirt road we passed through, things seem to have cooperated with us quite well. The sea was calm when we rode the boat to the island, and the rains only came when we were  already settled in our hut.

The boat ride back to the town proper was more...exciting, though. The second batch was caught in the middle of the sea with strong winds and downpour. How relieved we were that they got back to the part safe and sound, a little on the wet side, but safe. :D

It was a fun and affordable get-away! Cagbalete is still an unadulterated beach island. There are resorts, to be sure, but only minimal modification in the natural condition of the island seemed to have taken place. We had electricity only during the night. It was out even before I woke up. But there wasn't much need of it. The sun was bright and the breeze was cool. We cooked up great meals (or at least my friends did haha) with just a compact butane burner and a coal stove. During the day, we wandered the coastline, attempted to collect crabs (who somehow kept managing to outwit us humans haha), lounged on the daybeds, and dipped in the sea.

Barangay Daungan Port

Beach-bound early birds.

Dark clouds looming over the island is what you get when you don't listen to weather forecasts.

'In love one advances by retreating'

Why do we care about singers? Wherein lies the power of songs? Maybe it derives from the sheer strangeness of there being singing in the world… that such things should exist, that we should have discovered the magical intervals and distances that yield the poor cluster of notes, all within the span of a human hand, from which we can build our cathedrals of sound, is as alchemical a mystery as mathematics, or wine, or love. Maybe the birds taught us. Maybe not. Maybe we are just creatures in search of exaltation. We don’t have much of it. Our lives are not what we deserve; they are, let us agree, in may painful ways deficient. Song turns them into something else. Song shows us a world worthy of our yearning, it shows us our selves as they might be, if we were worthy of the world.

I think of faith as irony, which is perhaps why the only leaps of faith I’m capable of are those required by the creative imagination, by fictions that don’t pretend to be fact, and so end up telling the truth.

Power, like love, most fully reveals its dimensions only when it is irrevocably lost.

But let’s just suppose. What if the whole deal—orientation, knowing where you are, and so on—what if it’s all a scam? What if all of it—home, kinship, the whole enchilada—is just the biggest, most truly global, and centuries-old piece of brainwashing? Suppose that it’s only when you dare to let go that your real life begins? When you’re whirling free of the mother ship, when you cut your ropes, slip your chain, step off the map, go absent without leave, scram, vamoose, whatever: suppose that’s it then, and only then, that you're actually free to act! To lead the life nobody tells you how to live, or when, or why. In which nobody orders you to go forth and die for them, or for god, or comes to get you because you broke one of the rules, or because you're one of those people who are, for reasons which unfortunately you can’t be given, simply not allowed. Suppose you've got to go through the feeling of being lost, into the chaos and beyond; you've got to accept the loneliness, the wild panic of losing your moorings, the vertiginous terror of the horizon spinning round and round like the edge of a coin tossed in the air. 

You won't do it. Most of you won't do it. The world's head laundry is pretty good at washing brains: Don't jump off that cliff don't walk through that door don't step into the waterfall don't take that chance don't step across that line don't ruffle my sensitivities I'm warning you now don't make me mad you're doing it you're making me mad. You won't have a chance you haven't got a prayer you're finished you're history you're less than nothing, you're dead to me, dead to your whole family your nation your race, everything you ought to love more than life and listen to like your master's voice and follow blindly and bow down before and worship and obey; you're dead, you hear me, forget about it, you stupid bastard, I don't even know your name. 

But just imagine you did it. You stepped off the edge of the earth, or through the fatal waterfall, and there it was: the magic valley at the end of the universe, the blessed kingdom of the air. Great music everywhere. You breathe the music, in and out, it's your element now. It feels better than "belonging" in your lungs!

If Ficino believed that our music is composed by our lives, the contemporary Czech Milan Kundera thinks, contrariwise, that our lives are composed like music. “Without realizing it, the individual composes his life according to the laws of beauty, even in times of the greatest distress.” To stand the old principle of good design on its elegant head: in our functioning we follow the dictates of our need for form. 

—Salman Rushdie, The Ground Beneath Her Feet

---

This book. Seriously.

How I am a cynic and a dreamer

Last March, I was asked to write an essay for an application exam here at work. The question was something like "What do you think is the greatest problem we face today?" And because sometimes I take things at face value, I tried answering it as the greatest problem of humanity itself, of the whole world, not just the greatest problem of the country or the organization I'm part of. As a result, I took many more days to come up with a slightly coherent answer.

Why do I keep making my life so difficult? :))

---

I have pondered quite a while on what could possibly be the greatest problem we face today. The human race has struggled through its existence for thousands of years, ruled by selfishness, pride, and many other follies that time and history haven’t been able to temper. The present age is wrought with a startling new breed of hazards and tragedies, of wars and cycles of deception, of crippling social norms and repressive ideologies, of natural and man-made catastrophes.

"We don't have a great war in our generation, or a great depression, but we do, we have a great war of the spirit. We have a great revolution against the culture. The great depression is our lives. We have a spiritual depression," said the alter-ego of the narrator, Tyler Durden, in Chuck Palahniuk’s cult novel, Fight Club. 

Every “great” problem is different, depending on who views it, and when and where it is viewed from. Just as art is subject to many interpretations, so are the travails that pervade our era. As someone privileged enough to eat three square meals a day, attain a college education, have a more or less sound body and mind, and access modest means for a bit of leisurely activities, I have come to believe that it is this “great war of the spirit” that seems to be greatest hurdle of this era.

Being a Millenial, a member of the Y generation, I live in the cusp of a revolution quite unlike humanity’s history has seen. Our generation is witness to some of what could possibly the world’s greatest advancements in engineering, technology, health sciences, and other vital aspects of living. Life expectancy rate is significantly higher than it was a mere century ago, and vaccinations for previously terminal diseases have been developed. We have also taken our place in the transition towards the highly-romanticized digital age that changed, and continues to change, how people live. 

I do not mean to trivialize the hardships of the many people who do not have access to even the most basic of necessities, nor those people who are subject to prejudice, tyranny, or any other injustice I cannot even begin to comprehend. Just in this country alone, I know that staggering poverty exists, that some people do not even have a roof to sleep under, that some children have to toil instead of studying and playing.

Perhaps it is knowing these things and being unable to do (or believing that we’re unable to do) anything about them that makes “spiritual depression” a bigger problem than we realize. Inequalities still exist despite the strides humanity made because most is still hinged on the self, consumed by greed and unable to go beyond obtaining consumerist self-satisfaction. It is truly more convenient to exist in our own little bubbles of security and ignorance, apathy and individuality. 

In her poem To Begin With, the Sweet Grass, American poetess Mary Oliver wrote, “Love yourself. Then forget it. Then, love the world.” For me, this is the most succinct exposition of what ails our world today, and what will heal it.

If only today’s mankind can fight and win the “great war of the spirit,” resources and capabilities will ultimately be used for the greater good, and not merely for selfish reasons. The world will come to an age of unbridled progress, where people look out for each other, and equality for everyone everywhere will not just be a far-fetched ideal.

this is your racing heart–

can you feel it?

can you feel it?

I guess from the looks of this blog, it is easy to fathom that I am a huge fan of Bastille. Dan Smith's words are just so poetic, and evokes such vivid imagery they send chills down my spine ever since I first heard them. Right from the moment I first heard Icarus from a Robb Stark playlist on tumblr, I know I'm hooked. And I'm hooked for good. It doesn't help that I keep thinking of House Stark in most of their songs – Sansa and Bran in Daniel in the Den, Jon and Arya reuniting in Laughter Lines, for example.

But aside from the Stark-ness of the songs, Bastille's music is smack dab in the middle of what I like – just enough headbanging beats, strings, allusion to a little folk, a mix of rock, alternative, and mellow, evocative vocals, and just really brilliant lyricism. 

So I am not exaggerating when I say I hyperventilated and teared up, really teared up, when I saw this on my feed last week. I never thought the band would pay attention to the Philippines this soon. I could only dream back then.

Now it's going to happen sooner than I ever hoped for.

I am ecstatic, to say the least.

I CAN SO FEEL IT. WE CAN SO FEEL IT. GOD. DAMN.

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The heavy rains beating against the roof is the only sound that fills my ears tonight. 

How fast can the sound of a cry travel through a storm?

#quarterlifecrisis: Rainy Day Thoughts

Do you plan to work abroad? How many kids would you be having? Would you like to have a big wedding? Are you going to pursue higher studies? Will you change your name?

It’s really nothing new that twenty-somethings—me—retreat into my dark cave of thoughts and ponder Where do I go from here?

On a rainy night in July, a handful of grade school classmates met up for a mini reunion. It’s been eleven years since we graduated from elementary. Needless to say, a lot has changed. One is now married, while most of us are still yuppies trying to figure out where life is going to lead us. We talked about some of our batch-mates who now have children, those who migrated to another country, those whose names we hardly remember.

I’m about to be 24 in a couple months, just one year away from being 25. I feel like even with all the self-help and motivational articles I have read, I am still at a loss at what I’m going to dedicate the rest of my life for. And yet…

And yet, I also feel like every single decision I make now will be crucial in determining what I will ultimately be. I’m not in a starting point, no. On the contrary, I feel like if I am arranging the jigsaw puzzle pieces of my life, I’m in that moment where I have laid out every single piece upside so I would know how each one looks like. I’m in that stage where I have the corners fixed, where I know which part needs my attention more, where I know that putting a piece here and there will connect the corners to each other.

But there’s the catch. Which corner should I prioritize first? Will I have enough time enough for the other aspects of the puzzle?

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been seriously considering studying Urban Planning in the coming academic year. It's a subject matter that has surprisingly caught my interest, hook, line and sinker, which in retrospect I realized has already been at the back of my mind for a couple of years already at least. And there’s that hopeful buzz that in studying this field I will be able to contribute to society even in just small ways, especially since the lack of a cohesive, efficient urban public system is robbing millions of the city dwellers of Metro Manila time, resources, and sanity.

No, I don’t think it’s going to make me lots of money. I think I will be having a hard time pursuing higher studies instead of being on my way up a corporate ladder. I’m not even sure if I could even get to accepted to the program, let alone survive it until the end. But somehow, this is something I want to plunge into head-on, and if I fail or struggle while doing so, I know I gave it a shot.

I’m not sure. I don’t know if I’m feeling this conviction because I’m looking for a direction, a clear-cut path I could take, or I want to be able to feel like I’m working on something, towards something. 

I want to travel and experience the world. I want to explore human relationships and what I’m capable of giving, of sharing. I want to know what it’s like to desperately, passionately desire something—a person, an ideal, an achievement. 

At this crossroads, questions are demanding answers. Hopefully, each one will lead me to where I truly want, and need, to be. One step at a time.

there will be things we never dared

Now that you’ve grown so wise
Use that head and stop to think a little
Just cause you’re crazy doesn’t mean that you’re free 

— Stars, The Theory of Relativity

The biggest sigh of relief, the most heartfelt 'Finally'

From FIBA Facebook page.
The comments from international fans are making me prouder than ever.

It's been a win in the world basketball stage 40 years in the making. Being a witness to the last ten years of this struggle, I am a heap of emotions right now. While watching the game last night, my father actually offered me a glass of water to calm me. I was so agitated!

I don't think I can say better what many others have said already about this victory from Gilas Pilipinas. I'm just so proud of Jimmy Alapag, and indeed, he made his swan song count. My heart is in pieces knowing that this is his last time wearing the national uniform, but he is willingly giving up his slot to allow the young guns shine brighter for the country's pride.

The Filipinos are obviously the underdogs when it comes to basketball. It's a sport that the nation manically loves but doesn't seem eager to love us back. But more than displaying #puso in the heartbreaking, almost-but-not-quite games for the past week against higher seeded, powerhouse teams, it's the doors to the international stage that this stint has opened up for the future generations of Filipino hoopers.

The world got to see that the Philippine team is made of tougher stuff–Tenorio, Chan, De Castro, David, De Ocampo, Norwood, Lee, Aguilar, Pingris, and the other main man of the game last night, Fajardo–and that it can (and did!) take the World Cup by surprise. Given more experience, who knows where these underdogs will be in the years to come? 

From FIBA.com

After the win against Senegal, Pingris rode on Fajardo’s back. We should all get used to that scene because for the near future, Philippine basketball will also be riding on his broad back. We’re going wherever the bisdak wants us to go. (x)

With heads held high, our basketball heroes are moving forward. As Jimmy leaves Gilas, the rest of the team, and its future incarnations–will undoubtedly continue the good fight.

---

Aside from all-caps FEELS, I just need to put here the face that fanned the flame in my fangirl heart for the past ten years. Haha!

A letter unsent [06]: Alternate universes

20140816

When facing something unprecedented, the instinct is to distrust, to be doubtful, to be cynical, to search for some sort of assurance.

And against better judgment, will into existence a different version of events, stubbornly looking for a way out.

Who is this stranger? What right does he have to demand I change the way I see things? Why should I put my contentment at risk for something I have no idea about, not even an interest in?

In my idealism and inherent dissociation, maybe I have almost thrown you off-track. There were tumbles, skids, falling-outs. Ties almost severed.

What if neither of us persisted? What if the fear and trouble I felt weighed greater than the sincerity you showed?

If we were to subscribe the theory of multiverse, there is a place out there where we would be our same selves but different events would have played out. Hypothetical scenarios would be the reality.

It fascinates me, this alternate universe.

What if we never went through the whole hullabaloo, and instead drifted through placidly in life as mere acquaintances? Maybe have a couple of common friends, remember each other's names, but think no more of it.

Perhaps in that universe, I wouldn't be writing this.

In that universe, would we have become like two parallel lines that co-exist but would never meet?

I wonder.

But as much as I wonder about the what if's, I also wonder, too, about the what now's, the where to's, the should we's.

Maybe I should let the quantum physicists and string theorists fathom the existence of multiple universes.

I have so much to learn and discover in this version of reality just yet.

---

I might reconsider if a parallel universe where alchemy or direwolves exist is put to the table though.

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What do popcorn carts in Night Vale look like?

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She loved the sea only for the sake of its storms, and the green fields only when broken up by ruins. 

— Gustave Flaubert, Madame Bovary

It's what chocolates are for anyway

At the height of my colds, cough, and fever last week, I decided to write a letter to my 28 year-old self, which I will read through a reminder to be sent to my e-mail (less than) five years from now. I've been meaning to do it for a long time - write some sort of a time capsule that I will unearth after a few years, in the hopes that I will be in a better place when I do, compared to where I was when I wrote it.

And it's the longest thing I've written in a while, finally enabling myself to outline my thoughts and worries. I don't know if it's because the only audience I was thinking of writing it was me, or that I knew nobody would be reading it in the near (foreseeable) future.

Why am I so keen on keeping what I really think to myself? Why, even with all the means available at my disposal, I still keep holding back? Why am I so apprehensive of disclosing my emotions, even to people who I know care for me and wouldn't judge me? Do I still care that much about maintaining an image for people to see? Why am I so filled with inhibitions that it took writing to an imagined version of my older self for me to express my thoughts?

Over the past few weeks, I also got to have personal conversations with a few people in the workplace. We do have bonds that transcend the professional realm, but it's very rare that we share more than a few snippets of our personal lives over lunch or a few minutes of break-time. As we jogged around camp, surrounded by trees, or during lengthy barbecue-and-isaw dinners, I (mostly) listened to childhood memories, gossips, and alternate versions of tales I already know.

Listening to their stories, I came to a couple of conclusions: That, by default, people will always try to talk about themselves; and that, most of the time, people will paint a picture of themselves as unaffected, unfeeling beings. And this picture is hardly ever the real one.

I realized that it's not only me who's afraid of showing any sign of emotion. Most of the time, people will try to suggest that they are above the others simply because they care less, because they are untouchable, because they don't get attached. 

Before, I might have found wisdom in this. Why show vulnerability when it only allows you to get hurt? Why care at all?

I used to be a huge cynic. Maybe I still am in some ways. I don't even know where I got it - I have an amazing family, a wonderful set of friends, a relatively positive disposition. I guess it comes from years of being an observant most of the time. I don't get to feel the positive sides of things when I see people go about their business. I only get to see the stumbles, the struggles, the hurt. And to an outsider's point of view, these seem more trouble than they're worth.

And yet, it's beginning to dawn on me now that caring and trusting is not equivalent to blind naivety, not by a long shot. And not showing and telling people how you really feel is not equivalent to deeper meaning or profoundness or... or, I don't know, wisdom, maybe. It only deprives you of the chance to see the best in the people and the world around you. It's trite, and I've only realized this now.

This is why I'm trying my hardest to express how I feel towards people who matter from now on. It's a first, in many ways. And I still don't know where it will get me. Yes, I will still have my walls, but maybe I could raise the portcullis from time to time. Yes, I will still exercise a bit of caution, but there are people who deserve to know as much as I have the right to trust.

If things crumble, at least I'd know I tried. And, perhaps, this is what my 28 year-old self would have wanted to tell me right now anyway. 

---

And yes, on a scale from one to over-trusting,
I am pretty damn naive.
But I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar.
It can crumble so easily.
But don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it. 

 — Sarah Kay, B (If I Should Have A Daughter)

Other people's words, other people's worlds

Tell me a piece of your history
That you're proud to call your own
Speak in words you picked up
As you walked through life alone 

 — Bastille, The Silence

Secondhand pleasures. Secondhand agonies. Secondhand mistakes and realizations.

I looked back at the most recent entries in this blog and they all seem to be excerpts lifted from books, films, and songs. I don't know if I live such a dull life that can not merit such beautiful descriptions, that my experiences will always pale in comparison to the adventures people have in distant lands. Or maybe I just haven't found the right words, because things are still not in place, because what I know now are just disjointed pieces of a great whole. So maybe, maybe, I should just continue learning what I can, take what I can get, from other people's conjured worlds and beautiful words.

A whisper, a sigh. Stolen kisses and tough goodbyes —
When did it begin to be yours? When did it begin to be for you?

Or perhaps, firsthand wonders are beginning to present themselves already. All the universe is asking me to do is notice, and feel.

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I totally remember what it felt like to be so full…Full of promise, full of dreams, full of shit. Mostly just full of yourself. So full you’re bursting. And then you get out into the world, and people empty you out, little by little, like air from a balloon…You try like hell to fill yourself up with fresh air, from you and from other people. But back then…it was so damn effortless to feel full, you know? All you had to do was breathe. 

— Jonathan Tropper

How do you say 'I love you' without being able to?

We are collapsed in the act of just being here
Three blues, two greens, and a beer

 — Stars, What I'm Trying to Say

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Lettie shrugged. "Nobody looks like what they really are on the inside. You don't. I don't. people are much more complicated than that. It's true of everybody." 

I said, "Are you a monster? Like Ursula Monkton?" 

Lettie threw a pebble into the pond. "I don't think so," she said. "Monsters come in all shapes and sizes. Some of them are things people are scared of. Some of them are things that look like things people used to be scared of a long time ago. Sometimes monsters are things people should be scared of, but they aren't." 

I said, "People should be scared of Ursula Monkton." 

"P'rhaps. What do you think Ursula Monkton is scared of?" 

"Dunno. Why do you think she's scared of anything? She's a grown-up, isn't she? Grown-ups and monsters aren't scared of things." 

"Oh, monsters are scared," said Lettie. "And as for grown-ups..." She stopped talking, rubbed her freckled nose with a finger. Then, "I'm going to tell you something important. Grown-ups don't look like grown-ups on the inside either. Outside, they're big and thoughtless and they always know what they're doing. Inside, they look just like they always have. Like they did when they were your age. The truth is, there aren't any grown-ups. Not one, in the whole wide world." She thought for a moment. Then she smiled. "Except for Granny, of course."   

 — Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane

History takes a roller coaster ride

Mr. Peabody & Sherman (2014)

Mr. Peabody, the most accomplished dog in the world, and his mischievous boy Sherman, use their time machine - the WABAC - to go on the most outrageous adventures known to man or dog. But when Sherman takes the WABAC out for a joyride to impress his friend Penny, they accidentally rip a hole in the universe, wreaking havoc on the most important events in world history. Before they forever alter the past, present and future, Mr. Peabody must come to their rescue, ultimately facing the most daunting challenge of any era: figuring out how to be a parent. Together, the time traveling trio will make their mark on history. (c) Twentieth Century Fox

Mr. Peabody and Sherman was unexpectedly fun. Or pun-filled, as it were.

The 3D animated feature on the time-travelling adventures of the dog-and-his-boy tandem is both entertaining and clever, energetic and touching.

Honestly, I only agreed to watching it because I heard Bastille's Pompeii in the trailer, and I thought it was a good reason enough to watch it. Moreover, I'm certainly am not familiar with the cartoon series it was based on. And watching the trailer alone, I went to the cinema without any grand expectations aside from it being a straight-up science fiction adventure for kids. 

With the trio's misadventures told in breakneck speed, cheeky characterizations of historical figures, the rather poignant adoption father-and-son arc, not to mention the overall visual appeal of the sets and character designs, the film was surprisingly enjoyable. 

I'm actually more inclined to believe that the film is designed to be enjoyed by adults more, with all the lively historical anecdotes and puns. (Or maybe because my companion and I are kids-pretending-to-be-adults ourselves.) I think Mr. Peabody & Sherman didn't promise anything spectacular with its premise and plot. It's simple, and managed to deliver in the fun department.

Relapse

i.

there's a reason why you're jaded. there's a reason for your cynicism beyond what you've been telling the world. it's been this way before. it's always been this way for as long as you can remember. why should you believe this time's going to be any different?

ii.
praying for love and paying in naivety
praying for love and paying in naivety, oh

iii.

the metal instruments hit my skin, sounding like a fish flapping on the ground. i feel a tug here, and then there, but i don't feel the stark pain of being cut up. but it hurts, in a way, and i can't keep the tears from falling. with addled senses, i shut my eyes tight against the blinding light. please be over soon, please be over soon. 

iv.

it's better to burn than to fade away
it's better to leave than to be replaced

Of poets, departures, pine trees, and the cold north

The month that was in photos.

Lang Leav in Manila <3

Lining up for an autograph of the poetess

Newbies at the selfie game

In which  Melo gets a taste of contemporary poetry

:)

Group shot success, at last. About time, too.

Twisted Twister

Test of friendship

A bit of the blooms in Baguio

It's cold up north.

Baguio Market is so full of sights and sounds and gastronomic delights

Dragons v. Wolves v. Lions

Pine-scented mornings

Photo by Melo

Atop one of Mt. Pulag's peaks. It was foggy and rainy. :(
Photo by Melo

Will definitely be back for the sunrise and sea of clouds.
Photo by Melo

It's been quite an interesting handful of weeks.

Untitled [12]

/gpoy /gpoy so hard
[from tumblr, of course]

I alternate between "I'm too self-absorbed for my own good still–I don't even know what to do with my life–so I can't imagine committing to something beyond myself," to "I have to look out for others, as I always have, so I can't afford to focus on myself yet, or at all" mentalities. I'm getting chronic headaches. 

One more night...

It's been a year. Still one of the most awesome nights ever.

Alba

... I felt as if I were assembling a jigsaw puzzle in which each piece has a specific place. Before I put the puzzle together, it all seemed incomprehensible to me, but I was sure that if I ever managed to complete it, the separate parts would each have meaning and the whole would be harmonious... At times I feel as if I had lived all this before and that I have already written these very words, but I know it was not I: it was another woman, who kept her notebooks so that one day I could use them. I write, she wrote, that memory is fragile and the space of a single life is brief, passing so quickly that we never get a chance to see the relationship between events; we cannot gauge the consequences of our acts, and we believe in the fiction of past, present, and future, but it may also be true that everything happens simultaneously...  

— Isabel Allende, The House of the Spirits

Férula

She was one of those people who are born for the greatness of a single love, for exaggerated hatred, for apocalyptic vengeance, and for the most sublime forms of heroism, but she was unable to shape her fate to the dimensions of her amorous vocation, so it was lived out as something flat and gray trapped between her mother's sickroom walls, wretched tenements, and the tortured confessions with which this large, opulent, hot-blooded woman – made for maternity, abundance, action, and ardor – was consuming herself. 

 — Isabel Allende, The House of the Spirits

of rubble and sins

of rubble and sins from summerghost on 8tracks Radio.

a mix for the rebuilding of the north after the great war among the kings and queens, for the northmen's united rise from the ruins after the battle of ice and fire, for winterfell whose springs as warm as blood flow through the veins of its walls, for the heirs of the great house whose hearts, broken and cold, never stopped yearning for home

In Our Bedroom After the War | Stars
all the living are dead/ and the dead are all living/ the war is over/ we are beginning

Bad Blood | Bastille
all this bad blood here/ won’t you let it dry?/ it’s been cold for years/ won’t you let it lie?

That's Okay | The Hush Sound
you want to go back to where you felt safe/ to hear your brother's laughter/ see your mother's face/ your childhood home is just powder-white bones/ and you'll never find your way back

A City of Sleeping Hearts | Urbandub
i ponder the loss of stars/ in the night sky/ the smoked-filled air tonight/ for all of us/ i weep for our loss

Sunrise Ends | Stars of Track and Field
a myriad of color shines/ you're a rhythm that no one can unwind/ so come on, come out wherever/ you have gone for the winter

12 Fingers | Young the Giant
but when those sounds sang from our halls/ the backstop pressed against bleached walls/ do you remember the sound of snow?

Turn the Dirt Over | Sea Wolf
oh, turn the water over/ if you want to flow down/ oh, open up the shutters/ see the falling snow/ the falling snow

Innocence | Björk
when i once was/ untouchable/ innocence roared/ still amazes/ when i once was/ innocent/ it's still here/ but in different places

End Of All Time | Stars of Track and Field
you burn bright when you're left alone/ build up speed to bring you home/ turn off the lights and watch you glow

Winter Bones | Stars
can i come to your house?/ caught in the ropes and the wires/ the sunset is hard in the south/ winter lives in my bones/ it's all i've known/ it's all i've known

Daniel in the Den | Bastille
and for every king that died/ oh they would crown another/ and it’s harder than you think/ telling dreams from one another

---
This has been sitting in my drafts for the longest time. The bands I've been listening to lately are giving me so much Stark/Winterfell/North feels, thus this mix (and the account and the lousy artwork). Haha. 

I feel like Stargirl.

Will this end up as a tragedy, too?

Twenty Thirteen: Tickets, Transitions, and Testing the Waters

The last two months of 2013 witnessed a constant stream of reaffirmation of my connections with different groups of people. Despite the seeming routine in my daily life now, I know that I am still in a limbo, unsure of what to do next, anxious of things falling into a helpless disarray any moment. Reconnecting with people from the more "stable" and "definite" phases of my life, I guess, is like a reprieve from the uncertainty of the present.

In 2013, I changed jobs, surprisingly adapted well to the new environment (or so I hope), found new shows to follow, attended concerts of two favorite bands (I couldn't believe I was able to see live), watched as many theater shows and movies as I could, met new friends, discovered new books and authors to read, listened to new music, strengthened bonds with people who matter, pondered about the next step to take.

2013 has been the first full year I've been out of college, away from the haven of the Diliman campus. It has also been a year marked with indecision, with insecurities, with plans that never materialized, with books unread, with thoughts unwritten and unsaid, with disappointments, self-constraints and crippling doubts. I know that it hasn't been actually a productive year in terms of travels taken, of tangible outputs, nor of achievements and obstacles overcome.

But in the past year, I guess I opened myself more to the idea of capturing and embracing what the present has to offer as well as welcoming change. Upon introspection, I realized that compared to the previous years, I became  more eager to take and hold on to things as they come, to not let opportunities and once-in-a-lifetime chances pass me by. Yet, I also strive to be receptive of doing things that I'm not accustomed to, of lowering my defenses a bit to give way to new ideas and experiences.

As 2014 begins, I hope this openness in the face of transitions continue. I hope I will continue to be less afraid to test the waters and make mistakes. I hope the bonds I've made and will make with people flourish. I hope I get to see more of the world in the form of art to appreciate, of new skills to learn, of adventures to be had.