isolated

March 27, 2008 at 7:49 pm | Posted in Ennui | 2 Comments

there are just things words can’t illustrate without the need to do so much explaining.  there are things that make one sad, for example, but what is the use of saying, “i’m sad” when there would be just too many questions instead of answers which one needs more of?  or one could say “i’m happy” but what does the sum of one’s happiness amount to in times when there just isn’t enough room in this world for happy things?

“where have you been hiding?”

meredith said it quite sufficiently in a recent rerun.  “i’ve become one of those people — who are so miserable they can’t be around normal people anymore.”

i’m just not in that place right now, you know?  where i can easily relate and function like “normal” as “normal” gets around nowadays.  everything looks screwed from where i’m seeing them, and i am beyond pissed.  maybe once i’m done with this moving out thing i can gain a fresh perspective.

more than anything right now i want control, and control demands certainty.  but when things are as yet uncertain there is just a build up of anxiety that one can’t shake off so easily.  why not just pack everything up and go elsewhere, like singapore? how’s that for really moving? why try getting into grad school if you think you want to go abroad anyway? sigh.  if i could just get a  glimpse of what i would be doing five years from now — in more concrete terms i’d be happy.  but that, like everything else, would be too much to ask.

everybody needs it, they say, especially on a blue sky.

December 20, 2007 at 6:16 pm | Posted in Ennui, Musings and Epiphanies | 1 Comment

but an extended holiday? not my cup of tea.  i’ve never been a big fan of long holidays.  i can deal with them once in a while, and long weekends are okay.  but for prolonged periods of time?  no.

times like this i get to imagine myself  elsewhere, alone, working on christmas eve.  preferably somewhere snowing.   i don’t know why.  sometimes i just want to hide under a rock.  reunions, shopping sprees, gift-giving, carols, parties?  sometimes i like them, sometimes they make me sick.  if it is difficult for some people to imagine themselves alone on such an important day like christmas, the opposite is true for me.

it’s always been a fantasy of mine for as logn as i can remember:  me, writing, no distraction, somewhere far far away.  like some place where there is a castle overlooking a stormy sea.  or a hut where you can see the beach outside.  somewhere isolated, where the only rule is:  leave the protagonist alone.

it’s so weird because i know we’re a society that is steeped in associational values.  who we’re with and where we are at any given time is the basis of what people think of who we are.  if one stands alone, unavailable and beyond reach of human touch, is he stripped of his self, and what would one find in his core?  is he left a meaningless entity just because he doesn’t need to hold anybody’s hand to validate him?

for the longest time holidays pass me by with people all around me.  i watch them get lost in laughter and in their stories about their work, their lovers, their families, their desires.  but sometimes my mind wanders to that isolated place where i don’t have to exert effort to associate — to listen, to see, to feel. a place where i can just think.  and be.

while it is not an obssession, and i get to sweep the thought away and go on to keep functioning as a social being, holidays always bring this feeling up over and over again.  holidays are all about time with people we know and care about.  but i get to thinking — do we really need holidays to be with the people we love? that’s the part that strikes me as phony about holidays, specially christmas.

this consumerist world tells us to spend more on our loved ones because the occasion calls for it.  but shouldn’t we be showing them how much they matter that all year round?  why does our affection have to have price tags attached to them?

everytime i think of these things, i conjure that clean, well-lighted place in my head.  i will go there someday.  i’m stacking up on greeting cards.

standing on a corner for a while

June 7, 2007 at 1:46 pm | Posted in Ennui | Leave a comment

Have you ever had one f those days where you get up with a stupid grin plastered on your face, and you can’t get rid of it?  You feel like skipping a to the tune of a beat in your head, and you have a ready smile for everyone you meet on the street?  Everything is sunshiny and happy and it feels, really feels like birds are following you wherever you go, chirping excitedly like int he advent of spring?  When nothing seems to bother you — not the traffic, the pollution, the smell of strangers, the urgency of deadlines, of paperwork that needs finishing?

Well. This isn’t one of those fucking days for me.

Continue Reading standing on a corner for a while…

damn these eyes

September 12, 2006 at 5:06 am | Posted in Ennui | Leave a comment

it’s just one of those days when i want to take them out from their place with my bare hands.

anything, everything to just make it feel a little bit easier.

maybe one day i’ll pay for this by going blind. but just for this moment let me take this gift for granted, because i want so badly to just close them and for once, refuse to see what is there before me.

anything, everything to just make it easier.  this is not the time. this is not the place.

i can only hold on to the winter passing through the veins of my waking hours,  i must wait while it is yet to reach its longest day.

anything, everything to just feel warm, someday.

Mga Alon ng Anawangin

April 15, 2006 at 8:56 pm | Posted in Ennui, Musings and Epiphanies, Travels | 2 Comments

Ang bawat alon sa baybay ng Anawangin ay isang buhay na may kwentong inilalahad. Minsan umaakyat, minsan humuhupa. Kapag nagalit, nagwawala.

Humahampas sa dalampasigan ang mga kwentong inilalahad, inililihim.

Isang araw ang lumubog. Isang buwan ang sumikat. Nakakatawa, dahil sa dilim, nalaman din ang totoo, kung kailan walang ilaw na gasgas nang sinasambit at palaging ikinakawing sa katotohanan.

Tuloy ang pag-agos. Tuloy ang paghampas at kumpas ng alon. Kahit sinungaling ang araw at walang bayag ang buwan. Iyo ang kapangyarihang maglakbay nang hindi nakakapit sa kamay nino man.

with wings

January 27, 2006 at 1:57 pm | Posted in Emotions, Ennui, Music, Something about Nothing, the L word | 2 Comments

Continue Reading with wings…

My Life According to Sarah (just rambling)

July 8, 2004 at 7:43 pm | Posted in Ennui, Music, Something | 2 Comments

Even though I depend on words for a living, Sarah McLachlan inked the words to my life. She accuses me of building a mystery and I cry ‘guilty as charged’. She said my love is better than ice cream, and I think of what flavor best describes me (ampalaya?). She croons about messing up and I imagine drowning in a bathtub for all my own foul-ups.

Continue Reading My Life According to Sarah (just rambling)…

adulthood

June 17, 2004 at 10:40 pm | Posted in Ennui, Gratitude, the L word | 2 Comments

There must be a word for this, when time has moved on and the 25th hour is over, yet you feel at ease for the good it has done to you. When you know happiness is a choice, and it is only the path to it that you have to figure out. When you know that letting go isn’t always goodbye.

Continue Reading adulthood…

A Peregrine in the Island of Tenderness

December 28, 2003 at 5:04 pm | Posted in Ennui | Leave a comment

(written back in 2002)

Tonight I find myself walking the rugged length of the Academic Oval, alone with my thoughts; alone with the world and the forlorn streets lit up by almost-dying lamps. It is still a few hours before the blanket of this dark night gives way to the saffron kiss of dawn. Before the city is filled again with the sight and banter of millions of other lonely souls finding their way through her avenues and alleys. So I walk, consuming a pack of poison whose fumes travel the length of my lips to my lungs in silent but deadly fashion.

And as my feet conquers every inch of this road, I gather myself around the traces of our first meeting — that brief moment of awkward introductions, then the comforting assurance of exchanged smiles and the free-flowing of words that followed between us. Before the night was over, I found myself vulnerable, yet willingly so, to your charms. And nobody knew it but me.

I took home what I could of you — a hodgepodge of images: the sordid beauty of a dying sun in your eyes, the fine length of your arms, the gentle, heavy way you walked, your enchanting smile that hides a secret pain, and the inebriating wine of your laughter. I remember the way our minds seemed to meet at every turn, from the way we looked at the world around us, to religion, to the places we’ve both seen, to the more mundane details of favorite TV shows, books and music. I knew at that moment that when I wake up, you would linger in the air, and the scent of your presence would be in my coffee mug.

Continue Reading A Peregrine in the Island of Tenderness…

Traces

July 25, 2003 at 8:04 pm | Posted in Ennui | Leave a comment

(apologies to Rilke)

In lonely corners where strangers’ footprints gather and vanish, I can almost see you smiling. In busy shops where people come and go with bags and empty pockets, I can almost see you; pensive and withdrawn. In bus stops lit up by weary lamps, I can almost see you; agitated, watching the minutes pass by waiting for a ride to take you to wherever it is you call home.

When morning breaks, you are the steam that escapes the edges of my coffee mug. When I leave the house, you are the gentle breeze that greets me outside; the kiss of morning heat and the pull of afternoon lethargy. You are my excuse to make it through the day, the anchor that keeps me grounded in the present.

Amid the chaos of airport terminals, the tranquility of coffee shop tables, the imposing height of skyscrapers and the humility of concrete pavements, I can almost hear some people whisper your name.

And sometimes, in the enchanting lyrics of a ballad, I can almost hear you sing to me in a language that only I understand. In the lines of a poem, I can almost see you taking the shape of every metaphor as if it were your hands that inked each word.

In empty seats on midnight transits, on the window seat of airplanes and taxicabs, you are a stranger dreaming of platforms and stop signs. I hidden alleys and crowded movie houses, I can almost see your profile in the dark. It is as if though you didn’t want anyone to recognize you.

In every mirrorball, in every hospital bed, in every elevator, I can almost see you. In hushed conversations among kindred lips, in every feigned farewell, in every footstep along winding corridors, I look for you as a farmer dreams of rain.

I don’t know your name, but you are somewhere out there. I have not seen you, but sometimes, I swear, I can almost touch you. At night I can feel your presence beside me in bed. It is as if though you had your hand on my chest and your lips on my ears.

Every waking moment is a struggle to remember what form you took in my every dream. I open my eyes to rumpled sheets and lonely pillows and it makes me hate every sunrise.

I look for clues to who you are among speeding cars, cobblestone roads, nameless walls and rooftops. I know you’ve been around but all the buildings refuse to reveal your name.

If I could, I would fly over the city and enter every door left open just so I could find you. But gravity burdens my search. And my feet can only take me so far. And my memory can only know so much of the city before I find myself in terra incognita. In the vastness of the land, I find that perhaps, I am just as lost as you are.

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