The year that was…
It’s funny how you start creating a parallelism between the past year and two burned cds. I was flipping through some file photos when I saw some pictures that brought back some great memories in 2006 that told me, hey, the year wasn’t that bad at all.
So, before I start the (chinese) new year collecting pictures and burning new memories into two new cds to view in 2008, I’ll be sharing 2006 first with you guys as well.
January 2006:
The year has roughly started yet it was faced with a little despair. Ger and I were unavoidably detained at work while the fireworks blasted in the sky. And it can’t possibly get any worse for Ger, whose family celebrates New Year’s more than Christmas. It would be the first New Year away from my family as well.
February 2006
Ah! This was the month I first bought my Canon A520. The day served as a joke for us, because the guy who was supposed to sell his camera described himself as a “discreet bi,” when we found a very gay guy approaching us in the meeting area at McDonald’s UST. Hahaha.
March 2006
Things were too complicated for us come March when finally an ultrasound created a pathway to comfort. We also supplied ourselves with breathers every once in a while, which came in the form of road trips.
This was also the month I first climbed a mountain. Considering it was for beginners, I wanted to kill the leader who made it seem like toddlers used to trek there. I shared a tent with my ex-bestfriend Aiz. Months later, she’s going to give me a bad cut in the back of my palm, and we will never talk to each other again. No, that’s not the reason she became an ex-bestfriend. Don’t ask.
April 2006
April was an attempt to socialize with the office people. A department sponsored sportsfest was held somewhere in Muntinlupa where I did not participate. Heh. I’m not particularly sporty. Or at least I just don’t like sports with balls that might smack me in the face. Ger played volleyball, or at least posed like she was playing it.
May 2006
Trying to get healthy over the summer, we picked up Tennis next to Badminton. We initially got lessons in Island Cove, but learned that we’re paying off big time for phony lessons. When we finally got better lessons with a pro, we found it too pricey. Blegh.
June 2006
June was the roadtrip grande frap with two shots of espresso and extra whipped cream. When Ger’s extra curricular college friends (ano daw?) invited us to go rapids in Pangasinan, it wasn’t purely the Hundred Islands we expected. The girl’s running a slight fever gone wrong which stopped her from doing the rapids, but just to make the trip worthwhile, she joined the snorkelling. I refrained from doing any other activities without her just to be fair, but since I didn’t find the trip worth the long travel, I asked my dad if he could adopt us for the meantime.
And they were in Baguio.
So off Ger and I rode a bus, hopped into a van afterwards, and a couple of zigzags while sleeping after, we found ourselves in the almighty land of Baguio, where the grass is always–not greener–colder. We walked around at night, bought bonnets, ordered coffee ala kalye (daming tindahan sa kalye, e) and ate lugaw sa terminal. We vowed to go back again with a bigger budget and more time.
Oh, and yeah, we also met Aiz there. She happened to be around Benguet at that time.
July 2006
Wala lang. *blushes*
August 2006
Two transitions on the way: one was when we were leaving APAC, the other was when we were entering GE. It was a difficult time but exciting somehow, to be brave enough to think that maybe the grass really is greener on the building with a wider elevator.
Oh yeah. And happy birthday to us.Our present to ourselves? Galera again, baby. 
September 2006
We found this really huge live mariposa outside the building while on yosi break. Maybe it’s a sign of the metamorphosis.
This month was the time we moved in to our apartment in Alabang. It was hard to budget expenses which mostly went to our appliances and other beautification grandeur we did. Right. Well, it was fun to sleep more hours and walk to work.
October 2006
It’s my favorite niece’s birthday. And no, I don’t have any other nieces.
I got her this really huge Barney doll which my dad did something to which made her cry. Bad, daddy. Soon, she accepted the fact that this IS Barney, and the hell if they do anything to it. It was HERS.
Oh, and Coise was bought on this month. Coisey, coisey!
November 2006
On an effort to pick up another sport, we attended the every wednesday beginner’s night play sponsored by F of Philippine Ultimate (google it). Yes, it was frisbee time. But I never really understood its importance until I saw Derek Ramsey playing in Alabang against an imported (read: foreigners) team. Oooh. Muscles. Hehe.
December 2006
It’s a cake! It’s a cake!
Well, it’s a chocolate marjolaine, and it’s currently topping one of my favorites.
December is the year we turn one. Candice also came to the Philippines with boylet who’s a little annoyed with the fact that he couldn’t have Candice close without her parents cutting them short. In short, malaking harang. 
Oh. And look at the Sbucks cup. It says “Candies.” Shet, ibalik sa gradeschool yang baristang yan!
Truth Hurts
So you want the truth? I’ll tell you parts of it.
I’m bored. I’ve been surfing the net for how many hours now and I still don’t know what I should be doing or where I should be going. I’ve been jumping to and fro My Space accounts of mostly chinese and Thailander people, for who knows why. I’m still thinking if I should even be opening a myspace account. I already opened accounts for the reason that I thought they might be helpful, but then again they weren’t.
Pretty much like a lot of things in my life.
I’m currently jobless and unavailable to most gigs because we’re running out of funds. We’re awaiting the call of some jobs we applied for, and if all goes well and God still likes me, maybe I’ll get the dream job I want for now. But until then, we’re pretty much screwed. My mother is the only one who knows the real situation and I told her only this afternoon. I’ve quit the job last December 18th.
I’m not proud of it. I’m still hoping I pushed for things more and made things look better before I left. I made this really long letter telling everybody I’m sorry for being such an ass but I’m still thinking twice if I should be posting it because they’re never gonna know anyway. It doesn’t help that my batchmates in my last work are already quiting. I still didn’t leave the company with a better image. At least I believe I didn’t. I could have done better and I didn’t. I always think about that anyway yet in the end, it still doesn’t work out like it should.
I hate myself for not being better for her. I’ve had a thousand promises made and none of them are working out. I said I won’t make her quit. She likes what she does until I show a little disapproval–then she becomes critical.
I’m checking out some graphic jobs. Turns out I’m not that qualified for some of them. Now I’m doing a crash course on all the required stuff: a little bit of flash, a little bit of dreamweaver, and a little bit of illustrator. I have totally forgotten about corel and I can’t start installing that now. I have a limited computer space and I’m just grateful that Ger lent the computer to me.
I am still frightened by the real world. Maybe I’ll go back to the job which serves as my comfort zone. But I’m really pleading to God I get the job I want. Or I wish for, rather.
But until then, I’m screwed.
So there. Truth hurts.
Minsan
sa isang gabi na pinuno
ng mga damdaming
napilitang di umamin,
hinagkan ko
ang mga lumalandas na mga luha
mula sa iyong mga mata;
pigil hiningang
pilit unawain ka
sa bawat hikbi
namumutawi ang pagsintang
iniiyak maiparating.
Ngunit sa pagkalat ng alat
sa mga labi
ay kasama ang pait
ng katagang inihip sa hangin;
inasam na ikaw
(ikaw nga kaya?)
ang hinahanap
(ikaw nga kaya?)
para sa mga huling hininga
sa bawat paghabol
ng tingin
ay nawala ka na lamang ng
tuluyan.
(ikaw pa rin nga kaya?)
Hindi na ikaw
(hindi na)
ang kabuuan,
(hindi na)
hindi na ikaw
(hindi na)
ang katapusan.
(isang masakit na alaala lamang ang iniwan)
(putanginamo)
Sometimes when you look at a smooth glass real hard, and you squint to get a better vision, you see some specks of broken glass underneath it. It’s like a menagerie of shattered feelings inside completely stable facade.
Well. One shouldn’t really expect.
So why do I? Something must be flawed. I asked that question so many times even after the dot was placed before my lips. Nothing more to go after the hush, but the stubborn cries are escaping the pouts.
Well. Someone once said that emotions are recyclable. Now that’s another reason to feel jaded. You experience, you hate, you love, and in the end, you lose yourself in the illusion that life is yet another noontime show with everyone laughing at you while you’re in the middle of that crowd, squirming. You feel that embarrassment of being there, you feel that hatred to yourself for being there, and mostly you ask just why the fuck you’re there and you have to go through all the pain of having to experience that embarrassment. And everytime, you feel that extreme pain in your head whenever you’re in that pit of endless repetition. Yes, it’s emotions recycled, indeed. The human emotions is way too vast a blur to wallow one’s self into, yet it’s something everybody just tries to conceal behind the pristine, powdered face.
So that can be very scary if instability would always be an issue. Everyone is just on a big floor of thin ice. But, according to most people, it is the instability that makes everyone unique, that makes everyone endearing.
Well. Welcome to the Grandest Show on Earth, where everyone is playing to be the toughest person to stay on thin ice. It’s just a fight between whose mask stays on perfectly longer than it should.
when all was idealistic
I am running out of excuses.Once, I told myself I would want to be with a person who would satiate my inner cravings for mental deliberations, and if not, at least someone from the poetic side. Someone who would readily sweep me with words, someone whose mind readily colors out other dimensions even while we’re at an unadorned space. Like a cradle of vast imagination that I would love to wallow in. we would try to understand the world through our unusual views, we would color pastels black and darken the lines that normally etched the thin ice surrounding other curves. We would readily blur the lines of morality and emotions, and we would ride into wherever our minds take us.
And we would talk. We would talk for countless hours without having no real flow of conversation in mind. We would quote authors we learned to adore. We would laugh at the intricacies created by such people we look up to. We would get lost at different plots. We would suffer the blow of various complications. And we would fall under the romances of the pink skies of literary pages.
But the best thing of all, touch would not be a primary need between us: We would hug each other if we need to, but our lives would not depend on the mere existence of my hand on his. The words would be enough for him to touch me, to penetrate my soul.
We would laugh. Endlessly. We would run around, trying to momentarily live crazy lives lifted from some prose. We would give nary a care to everyone. Every day would be seized to the fullest. I would sit under some tree with his head resting on my lap. I would read chapters of some book we would both like to explore. In turn, he would read me some poetry, and we’d plainly sway to the magic brought about by the words. He would not ask where I have been if I get lost in my thoughts. He would understand my need for momentary silence. He would not be surprised because he finds me on the most obscure place possible, but would be surprised to find that we both chose that place to be our recluse.
Before, I dreamed of the sweetest love. We would lie around and feel the earth, and kisses shall obscure from our eyes the heaven and create our own between the exchange of passion; and in the middle we would get lost in his poetic way of losing things. The flight to nowhere would be voluntary, and the sweet caress his fingers would bring would be enough to spark my soul over and over again. He would not mind the atmosphere, for he would have started a different ambiance for us.
And then I would smile, because I know I can live my life at peace. That I wouldn’t worry what would become of us when we grow old. I wouldn’t worry about what we would talk about. Because somehow, I know we won’t run out of it. We’ll both be silent, and still communing.
And then…I wake up.
-originally posted at another site, November 27th 2004
