get drunk

one should always be drunk. that is the great thing; the only question. not to feel the horrible burden of time weighing on your shoulders and bowing you to earth, you should be drunk without respite.

drunk with what? with wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you please. but get drunk.

and if sometimes you should happen to awake, on the stairs of a palace, on the green grass of a ditch, in the dreary solitude of your own room, and find that your drunkenness is ebbing or has vanished, ask the wind and wave, ask star, bird, or clock, ask everything that flies, everything that moans, everything that flows, everything that sings, everything that speaks, ask them the time; and the wave, the wind, the star, the bird and the clock will all reply : it is time to get drunk! if you are not to be the martyred slave of time, be perperually drunk! with wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you please.

i wish i am always drunk, with the beauty in life, soak up all the love-hate around me, and just be. im tired of playing guessing games what if, or will this be, or what next. i just want to be happy. but being happy should be simple and not having a wide open heart that allows for hurt and fear and anger. to justify my inability to be fully happy, i have it all. 

that is why.

entirely different

"LIFE CAN ONLY BE UNDERSTOOD BACKWARDS; BUT IT MUST BE LIVED FORWARDS."

-   Soren Kierkegaard

it has been said that time heals all wounds. i do not agree. the wounds remain. in time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue, and the pain lessens, but it is never gone.


never.

unhappy

you are just too different. it makes me so very unhappy sometimes to know the fact that i can hardly be happy for long. i admit that i am truly fickle minded, but i cannot contain any longer these anger&frustration that i have always been suppressing, in more ways that i have known to.

she yells (inside or verbally) because she cares.

she cries because she is frustrated.

she smiles out of no where because she is thinking of you, even when you are already there.

she scrunches her face because she is about to explode.

she stares at you because she is infatuated.

she calls you up because she misses you and wants to hear your voice.

she talks to you because she is your other half, not mom.

she kisses you because she wants to.

she asks you questions because she is curious, not to be annoying.

she wants to know where you are to be with you.

she walks beside you to be able to hold your hand.

she sits close to you to be near to you body&soul.

she stand in front of you to see your face and hug you.

and so much more.

truth is, this girl loves you. so so so much.

imissyou

it is funny how people say they miss you, but dont even make an effort to see you personally. 


every day, i walk past people - my mother, colleagues, bosses, the janitors, people next door, people sipping coffee at the coffeeshop. i drive past homes, buildings - corporate ones, private ones or public. i wave hello and goodbye. i sigh relief and disappointment. i breathe in pleasant and unpleasant. i put on a face i make believe is myself, truly. i close my eyes and feel so many things at once. every day. but not once that i actually understand those behavior. 


even now, i do not know exactly what i wanted to accomplish or to write about in this very blog. people say there is a reason for everything, but i know having this blog is definitely not for fame or recognition. i have not figured out the exact genre or direction of writing in here, but it is neither personal nor general. it has none of the categories most people raved about. it has not been a medium for any extraordinary raves from my side of the world, either. just words, only written statements that my mind has made up with a little discussion with the heart.


...and the heart agrees to most of it.

vintage love

dear you,

i know that i have not been behaving at my best these past few months, and i know that it has not been the time that we are most fond of. i have not been living in denial, as i thought denial is only something a non-existent person would do. i believe, yes, i believe in that. i believe in facing the truth, going head to head with problem so that it could end or begin then and there. 

well, things have not been smooth for all time. there has been hiccups, things that has been skipped, moments that has been lost or found again. but when i see you, the world stops. it stops, and all that exists for me is you and my eyes staring at you. there is nothing else, literally. no noise, no other people, no thoughts or worries, no yesterday, no tomorrow. the world just stops, and it is a beautiful place, and there is only you.

i need to remember. remember, that this is now, and now, and now.
i will need to live it, feel it, cling to it.
i want to become acutely aware of all that i have taken for granted.

sincerely,
me.

pushing my luck

you cannot, and im serious, you cannot be ashamed of who you are, no matter how much shit you get for it - my father used to tell me. God gave you all that you have, all that you are for you to be yourself. and you should be proud, because you are beautiful just the way you are, nothing more and nothing less. because i used to glance at any mirror or mirror-like things and then fix my hair or check my clothes and tidy my appearance - lets just say i took a long time just to be ready for an outing, i bet a lot of us girls would be too. but he always tells me, my girl looks pretty already, it is not so proper to look into the mirror too much. i did, ignore him most of the time, but his comments and advice remains in my heart at all times. especially when he tells me to sleep earlier, pointing out on surfacing acne i had at times. yes, he cares for our skin and well being all the time, he is that involved in my life. i always have my own words and reasons to retort most of his comments in things that i do and do not. well, those were the days when there were too much words and now i had none.

i probably need to relax more. people say, there is no competition, really. only with yourself, to better and to improve. 

that's all.

i should probably agree with him about this. perhaps, to go without artificial things in life for as long as i can. starting with less vanity.

random post on a random tuesday

attached herewith an article i found to be very interesting. something that describes a girl - not another model, in a meaningful way.

date a girl who reads by rosemarie urquico

(in response to charles warnke’s You Should Date an Illiterate Girl) 

" Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes. "

ps // now, dont you think that was just lovely? you dont have to actually date one. have a friend who actually reads, or writes. 

xoxo

dirty little secret

i will have music instrument doors in my house in the future. i have set my mind, that if i am able to, my house would be psychedelic and eclectic, with all class and elegance in one. if i am able to...

i want it to be that way. 

it has to be.

my life, all drawn out inside my head. even things i am wanting to do to my family members day after day. to my partner to go through every single day without boredom ever in the dictionary of ever. to my beloved pet dogs. to the house.

back to the house. everything HAS to start with the house. 

or else...

or else it would have not happen at all.

that would definitely be sad. so sad i could break down and cry right here right now. okay, no drama, but yes. i could break down and cry. 

my mind is always full of dirty secrets i could not wait to do and make them all happen in the most beautiful ways.

secrets, safe with me.

this pain

this song. current replays.

just not coherent at all, with the title.

ugh.

play the song, though. very calming, and yet, very disturbing. feelings is just too messed up right now.

quiet

put yourself in my place for just one day. watch all the colors in your spectrum fade grrey. more aware than ever that i might never be as calm again. and it shakes every fucking bone in this body, trying to do the right thing on my own.


you dont just become a part of me just by being. you have to be there at my worst, and see me at my best, and undeniably all that is in between. i guess you just dont understand the term that enable people to communicate and to become an item of adoration that melts into love and love alone.


i believe, that there is goodness in you. a lot, not just a little bit. then again, with you utilizing your good sides for all the bullshit you are showing to everybody i am hoping you could at least wonder why - on your part.


sigh. my dear...

unresolved heart-calls

i am not angry at you. i was never angry at you.

i am angry at myself. 

i am angry i went against my better judgement and opened my heart to people who would not understand.

ohh, father.

hmm.


a phone call and some colleagues' comments on the caller reminded me on how you always hang up my calls even before i finished my sentence or before my goodbye reaches you on the other end. i would always call back and pester you, or argue with you about why you did what you did or say what you say, or just to repeat my goodbye that was unfinished. good times. 


i used to love to annoy you on every possible thing, but i guess you annoyed me more at times. 


like the phone calls.

sometimes

you know that feeling? that feeling when you just want the right things to fall into the right places not only because it is right. but because it will mean that such a thing is still possible? i want to believe that.

sometimes i feel as though the only thing i can do to wash away this empty space inside of me would be to empty it out even more, empty everything inside myself, slowly, carefully, methodically, and leave it on the curb of my driveway for somebody else to pick up. and once im nothing more than a shell, my heartbeat echoing against my hollowed out chest and vibrating against my fragile ribs, will i be able to find what i have been searching for, although i truly dont know what that is yet. when, like me, you have spent years searching for something in the world, something unknown, something magical and all you can do to come close to finding that unknown wonder is search in books, paintings, words, and hope that the secret you have been hoping to find will somehow find you.  

the longest weekend

i would never thought of myself saying this, or feeling anything less than happy to have a long weekend. but this time, is the exception. i wished i have things to look forward to, things that brings back my ever-present father. he was always there, in everything i do. at home, in the phone, everywhere. everything i do, i see, i hear reminds me of his being. he always asks too much, out of pure concern. he never left anything unsolved in work or in the family, except for a few childhood promises he made just to shut me up from asking for more. i dont mind about all that now. in fact, i dont mind about any of it - at all. all i cared about is for him to give me a hint about anything, anything at all. his repetitive advice. his loving-but-at-the-same-time-annoying-threatening calls to come here, even when we were few steps/seats next to him. his firm reassurance. i miss.

now, it is the feeling of nostalgia. it is the feeling that follows; that bottomless desperation of never getting him back, never being the same. that feeling of memories fading away. it is those moments in life we take for granted that count. the ones that fall away too quickly. the ones that leave us in the dark, grasping for that last redeeming thread of hope.


these anguish, these unsaid unnamed unfinished business and feeling, i could not feel and could have no control of. 


i cannot.

my valentine experience

the night of valentine's day...

i would never have seen this coming, not in a million years, that anything short of a good thing would happen to the man i loved the longest and the most. this very man that i have known ALL my life, being at the emergency room is one experience i would never ever understand - until the night of February fourteenth twenty twelve. 

nobody said anything. my mom and i thought it must have been something he ate that triggered an unfavorable response from his body which resulted in difficulties in breathing. my very own father is in that freaking suffocating room filled with tubes and medicine and equipment. we remained calm, suppressed all our worries and hoped for the best. mom even started little every day conversations with Uncle Chris, my father's close friend, while waiting for whatever that is going on inside that room with blood red indication light. while holding on tight to the arms of the other closest person i have at that very moment, i waited, impatiently. but i could not do anything else, other than to wait. 

in that mere two hours, doctors&patients came in&out of that emergency room countless times. and my father have yet to be seen walking out. then one of the doctors whom my father was taken care by, came out to inform us the status of his treatment - of him. through his calm but sort of sorry face, telling us that they are trying to save him. for three times, three times he came outside, telling us that his situation only worsen with time and treatment. on the third time, he just told us there is nothing they could do. there goes my lifelong support, our lifelong support, mortal and everything went blur. valentine's day has passed, and so did he.

i could not, no words would be able to describe how i feel when he blurted out that sentence. no words could ever describe how i felt when we were allowed to see him, lying lifeless right there. my heart&head almost gave away then&there, if it was not for people i have got left. i think my whole world just fell apart and i could blame everything and anything in my sight. i would have given up anything at all to have everything reversed all over again. i would have...

my father. fifteenth February twenty twelve. in loving memory.

in memory of a brother.

rest in peace, Chrisvirgil.

my childhood memory with awi, of you will always be in my heart. 

sending you off at the funeral mass today was a heartbreaking occasion. but being a catholic, we all know that it is not the end of the road. keep being the wonderful person that you are and may you have the blessing from above to shine upon your loved ones.

amen.

a certain romance

...dies. resurrection isnt so much of an option when things are complicatedly expired.


it always seem ridiculous to me, that people want to be around someone only and only because they are good-looking. it is like picking your breakfast cereal based on color instead of taste. 


it is all about perception.


surrounding myself with people who have good sense of humor never fails to make me smile, especially when im not really the type of person who is the center of the crowd. i really appreciate typical conversations between two people, but regular gathering of interesting people who can spark up a conversation and keeps me entertained is rather enjoyable. even more so, nowadays, when it is rather hard to find genuine friends of the same wavelength. i am truly glad i have people who stick up for me, and whom i stick up to, at all times. (you would know who you are xoxo) people like these, they will know when to stop and to be serious when needed. i think the true meaning of being comfortable with someone is when they make fun of you and you have no feelings to be hurt. in other words, they would justify the limit to which a heartache means a heartache to them as well. that is a very thin border, not many knows. 


live. love. laugh.

heartache

this pain is inexplainable. i believe there aren't so much i couldn't bear, after going through the past year. it seems like there is nothing else that could break me. but you seem to do it with ease.

now i think i can go through anything.

i dont know how and why, but i want to just leave it all behind.

happy. reversed!

most pathetic bunch ever, apart from being kind at times - nothing, and i repeat nothing, is worth mentioning. and the dumbest taxi driver in history right now goes to this very person - am sorry but i dont even think he passed his driver's test to start with! the worst EVER burger king meal i have everrr had is at genting highlands, and heck i even hate kl on a whole now. nowhere is nice anymore. people are gross, places are uhmm, etc.

a short summary of my trip with colleagues.

i guess it wasnt the right time, place, and emotions - when i went.

everything was out of the way. everything.

dear monday,

im sorry im not doing this face to face. but i guess that is one of the problems. i just cant face you anymore. it is not you. it is just me. we just want different things. the whole time i am with you i am thinking about friday. i dont really know what else to say. i just cant do this anymore.

sorry.

see you around, maybe.

xoxo