journey on dark waters

LMFAO (Learning More From Another One)

2011-11-03T23:58:00.001+08:00

Everyday, to me, is a learning experience. The people I meet, the things I see, feel, hear or even experience. In my heart, I am happy to say, that I have been privileged to coach a team. Not just any team, but a football team.

Football is teamwork. One cannot make a goal withoout the help of another player. Each kick, chest catch, head-butt or ball control is a well-calculated team effort.

Although I am a seasoned player, I still learn from the team I helped coach this semester. They continuously remind me to remain grounded. They also continue to teach me to respect each and everyone. That each player is unique and different. No player should be ignored. Everyone should be remembered. Even if they are not the best player on the team, they're still entitled to respect. Even if they can't kick well, or can't catch the ball well, they have to be respected. Without them, a team is nothing.

As an assistant coach, I got to know the players more. What they like, what they don't like, what they're into, what course are they taking, if they're far away from their loved-ones or not, if they have a problem (financially, emotionally, etc.). In short, I learned to respect them and in the long run, I also learned to love them and treat them like my own siblings. We would bond, eat together, leave the field together, spend long-talks over the phone, or just simple heart to heart talks.

Now that I am no longer going to be with the kids I bonded with for the entire semester, I learned an imporant lesson. Well, lessons.

Lesson Number 1:

"I learned to respect and agree with what my players think and suggest."

- Like a game of chess, as a player, I am oblivious to the blind moves I make on the field (may it be decision-making ones or in relation to the team in general). The players, like spectators in a chess game, sees these moves. And they will tell you what's on their mind. If it's no longer good for the team, they will tell you wholeheartedly and honestly that what you're doing is not correct. And the best thing to do is: LISTEN.

Lesson Number 2:

"I believe in the team knows better than the coach."

- The players have ideas on how to play the game better, BECAUSE, they're the ones who are ACTUALLY playing the game. As a coach, this rings true. You may have past experiences in the football field, but what might've worked for you, won't be applicable to your players now.

So, you might be Laughing My F***ing Ass Off, from reading this. But I say, I am Learning More From Another One, and that is from a simple team player,with a great mind of his/her own.

I am busy... Therefore I procrastinate.

2011-07-19T10:24:00.002+08:00

Who says I am lazy?

Being lazy isn't an excuse for things not to be done by yours truly. I have one reason and one reason only: I am busy.

Everyday all of us rush to do things or get somewhere fast. And if someone stops you on your tracks and tell you you're lazy or not doing what you're being asked to do, simply put: YOU'RE BUSY, therefore, YOU PROCRASTINATE.

What exactly is PROCRASTINATION?

According to Wikipedia, procrastination refers to the act of replacing high priority actions with tasks of low priority, thus, putting off important tasks to a later time.

BUT... is it HEALTHY?

I think procrastinating is healthy in terms of being done once, but not always.

So again, am I PROCRASTINATING?

Technically no. I am just BUSY.

Tech Wars: Revenge of the Tablets

2011-05-03T02:09:00.000+08:00

I have delayed this post for 2 reasons:

1) I have recently bought the gadget (iPad); and

2) I waited for the release of the reviews about said gadgets.

A lot of people have talked about the iPad and reviews came out about it being the hip and in gadget that's a must-have for gadget enthusiasts out there. Even Apple has promised that after the 1st gen of the iPad, the iPad 2 will come in the market right away. I am currently a proud owner of one of the last batches from the 1st generation of the iPad. Like all iPad users, I am also satisfied with my gadget. It has helped me with my coursework and my homework. I have loaded it with my favorite mp3s to which the iPad has never failed to give me (or the other users) crystal clear quality of sound. Even the movies and clips I download via YouTube: fantastic! Though the file is of mp4 format, it's like watching it in HD. Apps are very useful and it has never failed to entertain me (even my family is using it). In short, iPad has surpassed the gadget dreams of everyone.

Then there's the release of the Tablets. There's the Samsung Galaxy Tab which boasted a camera both at the front and back. On the plus side, it's a bit smaller compared to the iPad and it also boasts of call functionality (which is only available to 3G users of iPad). I have used the Samsung Galaxy Tab myself and I could say that it's quite handy especially if you don't want to carry a bigger model around you all the time.

Irregardless of the size, usability and mobility of both the iPad and the Samsung Galaxy Tab, I am thumbs up for both the makers of these wonderful gadgets. They have made it possible for everyone on the go to be connected with their loved ones and families with these helpful gizmos. They have made the world a better place to live in...

Quarter-Life Crisis? Right...

2011-02-21T22:44:00.002+08:00

There is no doubt that at the start of this year, my life (though marked as the year known as the QLS or more commonly known as the Quarter-Life Crisis stage) began with a lot of blessings.

I am beginning to understand why everyone has been calling it the Quarter-Life Crisis stage. This is the time where you begin to see the picture a bit clearer than before. Somehow, things that I thought was right, suddenly seemed wrong. Things that I used to believe in, where false.

To begin with, I left my job of seven years to be a full-time student. Someone once told me that instead of going forward I moved backward. That I should've stayed with my work and continued on with my studies. For one, I missed the last three years of my college life. The time where I should be enjoying the challenges in class, the academic life that most of the student spent their college years bumming around while waiting for the next class to start, I spent running to and fro work. I had to run to get to my next class so as not to be late, I had to try and keep myself awake because I had been up all night writing scripts and watching tape reels. I was promised a comfortable spot in the College of Law (where I am today) after I graduate by no other than the Dean Emeritus himself (had I only grabbed it after I graduated, I would've been done by now). I was offered various positions in other media agencies and other prestigious companies, yet I chose to work where I worked for seven years (inclusive of my undergraduate years). I also chose to work first before entering Law school.

As fate would have it, I had a tumultuous three years before I went to Law school. Three painful years that I dared not share even with my family as I don't want them to endure the pain I suffered. After keeping my silence for three long painful years, I broke my silence by believing that I was well and good and deciding to go to Law school. To which my father believed was great timing. It was time for me to break out from the pain that encased me for so long. I also believed then that following orders and listening to what others has to say is important and would be a good advice for me to follow. So after three years of being tied to work, tied to the pain, I decided to enroll. The dream that began five years ago is still in my heart. I prayed day and night that I be given the chance to enroll, where not everyone is lucky enough to get in for various reasons. After two years of Law school, and after seven years of working, I decided to call it quits from work, take a breather and start loading myself with the ammo I needed for the future. I am thankful for being part of the company I called home for seven years. They groomed me, treated me well, and made me distracted from the pain that haunted me. I enjoyed my stay, and I am thankful. But when I left, I was asked several questions as to why I left? Did I really leave because of the stress? Did I just use my education as an excuse? Or simply put, I can't take it anymore?

On top of these questions, I was also haunted by a romantic pain that everyone goes through. A scar that I thought had already healed, had opened once again. We undergo pain... Sorrow... Suffering. Yet it comes in different degrees. But we have no right to make the next person we begin and learn to love to suffer for our past pains. We have no right to hurt the ones who would love us when the world refuses to, just because we got hurt before. In short, we may have been hurt several times, but we cannot treat the next person unfairly because time, fate and the world has been unkind and unfair. There is no such thing as fair in this world. We have to feel unfairness, before things become fair. We have to feel pain before we feel love.

So tell me, I have learned to speak six languages, yet there is no exact translation or meaning or exact words for the things I am feeling now.

But I will say this, I have never regretted the decision of going back to school and leaving work after seven years. Time has been kind to me all these years, and I believe that it's just good timing. Maybe there is a bigger assignment for me in the future. A bigger test maybe that I have to prepare for. In the end, it's me and the world. The way I converse with it, the way I move with it. There are no late timing. There are no wrong decisions. They are only wrong if we regret about later on.

Do I still considered myself blessed? Yes. Do I still considered myself to be lucky despite the many trials I had to face at the beginning of the year? Yes. I have been brought down so many times, that these depressions have become my inspiration to rise above it all.

Haunted

2010-12-01T16:36:00.003+08:00

I thought it was over. That the memories from my past won't give me nightmares anymore. It made me calm for the past four years. Four quiet years that helped me heal. I've dealt with almost killing myself, to overdosing myself with alcohol. To trying to kill my lungs with nicotine till I could barely breathe. But who was I kidding? I was only giving myself a slow and painful death. But what was I to do? I tried all sorts of remedies. But to no avail. I am tired. Tired of how things are going. Then suddenly, after four quiet years, I receive an email about this person who used to haunt my dreams till I could force myself to close my eyes at night. And now, this dream haunts me yet again. And now, I could barely keep myself awake. For I am afraid it might haunt me in my sleep. Why can't it be over? Right now its being replaced by someone new. Yet, again, the same waltz is playing. Dragging on and on. When will it end?

I am plagued by the nightmares that barely reaches my inner soul. Now, I try to close my eyes and try to relieve myself from the pain. Yet the tears are falling freely from my eyes, betraying me yet again.

Mistakes, Mess, Errors and Whatever Else It's Called

2010-11-06T21:25:00.003+08:00

We make them. Great, small, huge, tiny, damaging, and whatever else you might call it. Sometimes, we do it intentionally, and most of the times unintentional. This year, I have made quite a few mistakes in my life that cannot be rectified nor erased. But I do not regret making them or having them in my life. I had the biggest epic fail in my entire educational life. And it was all because of a few errors.

I tried to go against the flow and tried to prove once and for all, falling in love doesn't have to be dictated or it's free like the river. You may like whoever you want to like, go out with that person and try to defy gravity. But it has a price. An inevitable expensive price you pay later on. Like a credit card, it will accumulate and will send you a letter indicating that you have to pay as soon as possible. Painful isn't it? I wanted to prove everyone else, by talking, hanging out, or even seeing this person, that love was right, meant to be. But no. Because it was against all laws created, including that of God, then because of my defiance, I failed miserably in a few subjects that had my strongest point that is debating and written. Because I wanted to defy gravity, I stepped down the position I loved with all my life: Choir. I felt I was being unfair to God and myself by sitting in that choir loft and singing His hymns but my mind was somewhere else. Then my painful past came back. The suitor who used to beat me up has made his presence known by emailing me. I was scared out of my wits. I felt miserable, lost, empty. That I decided, though its against all my wishes and against my heart, to step down from choir. The only place where I felt near to God. I love my work, but my supervisor got the best of my existence. And I let it affect the other thing I love the most: my studies. I would opt not to go to class, or my mind would be someplace else. With all these burdens in my mind, what was I to do? I couldn't tell my mom, she was busy with a project. I told my dad, later on, but it was a bit late. I was already in a mess. My mind was already giving up on me. Wine was tempting me to drink, though I didn't touch a single drop. I knew I was slipping. Everything to me, felt like a total lie. I began to question a lot of things. I also started to detach myself from the people who love me. People who promised that they would come back, I never believed them. I would start to eat emotionally or totally not eat at all. I would come to class, empty-minded. Everything was a blur. Because of all these things, I failed.

But of course, in real life, there are no erasers. No white-outs to correct the wrongs. And even if there would be a way to correct it, it would be too late. Or rather, it would only do little to the damage done. I am not writing this as a sob story or something that would attract pity from the eyes of the readers. All I wanted to was to be listened to. Which no one has done in my entire life. Hearing and listening are two different things. Sure my sister heard me, but never listened. Same goes with my parents, they heard me yes, but never listened. They think that the remedy or solution to my behavior is by telling me off all the time of all the errors I have done. I even have tried to rectify the errors, mistakes and whatnot by being helpful around the house, cleaning, paying the bills, ironing. But its futile. Because somehow, even my acts of kindness were repaid by all my errors. But who am I to answer back? I am the daughter, so I try my really best to keep quiet. I believe that God is just and watching that I have been a good daughter.

Regardless of all the mistakes, errors and the part where none of my family understands, or listens, I still love them and understand them more. That's what makes me love them and understand them more, we all have imperfections and that what makes this family perfect. My deeper understanding and love for them, covers all tracks of their lack of paying any attention to me. Like I said, this is no sob story or I am not asking for pity. This is just me.

On Being Courageous

2010-10-04T12:59:00.002+08:00

There are a lot of ways to show courage. Some may show it when they are already in the face of danger. Some muster their courage when they are about to tell someone that they love them after all these years. But being courageous also meant, you are willing to admit you're sorry.

I have never seen my father so disappointed with me. I admit, it was my fault, when I actually said something I wasn't suppose to say in the first place. My actions were miscalculated and my words out of bounds. On the ride back to work, it took me 15 minutes. 15 MINUTES!!! To muster the courage to say sorry. Sorry that I went out of line. But my dad, like all fathers, hugged me back and said it was okay, that what I did, happened for a reason. I could only respond with tears in my eyes.

As I write this, tears are still falling. I am courageous enough to cry even though when I am already beyond my age, but I am still sorry for not being courageous enough to tell my father how deeply sorry I was. 15 minutes was too long. Hopefully next time, I wouldn't wait that long to say sorry. Of course the next time around, I won't let it happen EVER AGAIN.

At the Heart of Arts and Culture

2010-09-12T16:56:00.002+08:00

The other day, hours before the concert of the Philippine Philharmonic Orchestra began, I wandered off through the floors of the Cultural Center of the Philippines. I was in awe as I walked along the paintings lining the walls of the building. Studying each stroke, each hue, I found myself lost amongst the colors that struck a chord in my heart. I ask myself, what was the artist feeling when he painted this piece? After looking at the paintings I went one floor up where the museum was. It was a place where one could find his or her roots. Looking at the pieces from behind glass cases, I was amazed at how our country has so many riches to impart to us. But sadly, our generation has forgotten. Gone are the days when one would use the gamelan and the gongs to produce music, or the gitara or the rondalla. Now its rock music here, sentimental music there, pop music everywhere. Our traditional music, almost gone with the changing times. A few more steps and I was in a place where folk dances where shown. National treasures that boasts of a rich heritage. I gaze sadly on the fine jewelry that our Ifugao sisters wore, or the headdresses our Ifugao brothers wore proudly on their heads. The sarongs that clothed our Maranaw relatives and the dialects lost on our now foreign tongues as we embraced other cultures. As I left the museum, a muse inspired me to write this poem in Filipino.

"Bughaw, pula, puti at luntian,

Simbolo ng ating mayaman na kalinangan.

Musikang umaalingawngaw mula sa hilaga hanggang sa timog,

Wala ng init na nararamdaman kundi hamog.

Malungkot na mga matang nakatitig sa nakakalimutang kinagisnan,

Gintong mga alahas ninais ng mga dayuhan,

Makulay na kultura, unti-unting nawawaglit,

Hindi nililingon kahit isang saglit.

Masakit sa damdamin, bakit kinagisnan na kultura'y hindi muling yakapin,

Pagka't kinabukasang banyaga ang sinasalamin,

Sayang sa isang gusali na lamang ito namamahay,

Pagka't panahon ng teknolohiya ang bumawi ng kanyang buhay..."

In english:

"Blue, red, white and green,

Symbols of our rich culture,

Music that echoes from the North to the South,

Warmth is no longer felt, except the cold.

Sad eyes that looks on over a forgotten heritage,

Gold that were desired by foreign invaders,

Colorful culture that is gradually being forgotten,

It's not even given a second glance.

It's saddening to know that we cannot embrace our heritage back,

Our choice to only see the foreign future in the mirror,

Saddened that a building houses our only culture,

For technology has taken its life away..."

Pagbabago...

2010-08-26T14:23:00.001+08:00

We all have our different tastes... A different take on clothes, gadgets, books and even food. That includes desserts. Like most of the Filipinos, I grew up to be a Goldilocks kid. My birthday cakes would come from Goldilocks and even that irresistible polvoron and caramel popcorn. When there are times I would feel down and out, I will grab my bag and wallet and catch a jeep going to SM North where the Goldilocks store would greet me at the entrance.

Katulad din ng nakararami, I too, underwent a change... a pagbabago. When I was in college, I was the shy-type, not really minding my looks and how I walk. And it was in this period where I met a man whom I thought would be my mate for an entire lifetime. He was cool, good-looking and confident. He complimented my simplicity as something to his style. Little did I know, he had a dark side to his "somewhat-saintly ways". He began abusing me, both physically and emotionally. When we both separated ways after the incident, I underwent the biggest change in my life. I went out more, changed the way I look, the way I talk, the way I walk and everything. Although my spirit was bruised, I will never forget the day when my Ate brought me to Goldilocks the day after I separated from the man would leave me scarred. She told me in her exact words as I recall from 5 years ago: "Life is like a bakery, like this place Goldilocks. They might go through changes, but its still the same store. Parang ikaw, at first you might not enjoy the change, pero eventually you will find that its the best, kasi your hair might change or the way you dress, but you're still you. Parang baking lang, you're just sifted through, so that the bad elements will be sifted away and separated. And then you will be molded and baked to who you are today."

Some may call this a love story, the cynics might call this a tragedy, but for whatever ending that had happened, I was glad the ending happened the way it did. And I was glad that the pagbabago happened and still happening. Life is all about changes, all we have to do, is embrace it and let it change you the way it should even if the original you is still inside...

Choices v. Decisions

2010-08-16T15:26:00.003+08:00

This evening while walking home, kindness gave me a ride. While on my way home, walking through darkness and rows of condominiums, a tricycle stopped and the driver asked me if I would like a ride home. I said sure, why not? I was heading that way anyway. As the tricycle rolled by I started fishing for my wallet to pay the man for his kindness in giving me a lift home. When the tricycle stopped in front of the store where tricycles were posted I took out my wallet and I started to look for spare change. The driver smiled and told me that it was free, I no longer had to pay. I smiled and thanked him profusely. On my trek home, I can't help but wonder over the decision the driver had to make to give me a lift. Was it easy? Or was it hard to make?

Connecting it with my life, in the course of it, I was asked, so many times, how come I am still single?

Good question though. Was it a personal choice or a decision?

Looking back, it was a decision I had to make. Was there another choice? Of course there was a lot of choices. I could've gone and followed my heart and let my brain do the thinking later. But I decided, for the best that His will be done. Even if it has been four years, the pain is still there. Sure, there's a scar to prove that I have gone through the ordeal, a living memento of what once was. But then who would I be kidding? Myself? Everyone? There is no such thing as a bad decision. It's only bad when you regret about it later on. I never regretted making that decision.

Going over my decision was like reviewing a decision formerly made in court. Did the jury voted unanimously? Was the judge fair in giving his concurring opinion? Or did he have a back-up dissenting opinion? Did I go to far with my judgement? Was I fair enough to pass judgement?

To be honest, all decisions are fair and it's what makes who we are now.

Right now, I have four choices to make, but only one decision. Hopefully, I will not regret making that decision and it would be for the best. Its not just a flip of a coin anymore, that would either be heads or tails. Its a lot of choices versus one decision.

Am I being fair to myself?

You decide.

...walking alone a lonely road

2010-08-10T15:02:00.005+08:00

As I write this I listen to a song that I hope someday would be sung to me. I ask myself, when will it happen? I wonder when someone will really have the courage to ask my father and ask for his flower and give her a bouquet. I also wonder if someday, someone will ask for me, my father's princess and make me his queen? I don't want to sound jealous, but I do envy my older sister. She could get everything she could want when it comes to guys. People would be telling me how lucky I could be or the guy. But where is he? Why is he blinded by material things or superficial elements that make up a girl?

Every time I hear someone liking me, I ask myself when will he have the guts to just ask and tell me himself instead of someone telling me instead? Does he have any idea how painful it could be for me? To be lied and joked or played with? I am not a toy. I am also a human being. I have feelings too.

Last night, I had the most meaningful conversation with a friend. Talking about this with other people, will only lead you to disappointment. No one would understand. You may ramble and rant on, but they would only tell you what they know. They will pretend to listen, but won't really pay attention. This pushes you to the edge, without them realizing it.

Sometimes I wished that years ago, I should've died as planned. But for some Divine Intervention, I didn't. I ask myself so many times why? It would've been better that way. Instead of reliving this pain I am going through.

I've had enough.

"Is this the moment, when I look you in the eye? Forgive my broken promise that you'll never see me cry..."- Permanent, David Cook

Who is your Super ONE and why?

2010-07-26T11:09:00.003+08:00

My Super ONE is my Grandma...

Right now, she's residing at the Land Down Under with my other uncles and aunts. This photo, which was taken around May of last year was a photo of me and my Nanay (as we fondly call her) 24 years after she migrated to Australia. She came to visit us last year and announced upon her arrival: "Apo, let's go to South Korea! I want to see where they shoot Winter Sonata!"

After that epic trip to Seoul, Nanay still calls us every now and then and writes to us. And would you believe at the age of 82 she surfs the internet? After our youngest sister taught her how, Nanay couldn't get off the net!

I just wish she's here right now... I miss spending midnights with her watching her Koreanovellas and her war time stories (she survived both the 2 World Wars). The good thing is, Globe recently launched Super One... this is a sure way for me and Nanay to still stay connected despite the distance and time difference.

Not For Sale

2010-03-16T15:12:00.002+08:00

Sunny side-up with ham and butter on toast. Baked.
Fresh raspberry lemonade, cool morning breeze.

You catch my attention, gathering dust
under heat
Behind walls.

Echoes of pebbles under the train.
Station to station.
Reminds me of the subway ride from Upper East Side to Manhattan.

I wanted to go near you. Touch you.
But sadly you're no longer up for grabs.

Destination arrival time read eight past one
and I walk away.

MTR rewind

2010-03-16T00:17:00.006+08:00

Passing cars, pedestrians...
Red light. Green light.
Thermals rising through the air
I catch a glimpse of a stranger, sea of faces swirling smoke

I close my eyes, hoping for a moment to catch a fragment of your smile.
maybe, just maybe, just for a second.

Its 30 minutes past noon.
Walkways, pathways, a few minutes of cold air.
Hurrying footsteps here and there.
Shadow of people fading.

Train arrives, 9 3/4.

Echoes over the PA system.
Next station, Buendia Station...

interchange station to the Bel-Air line, doors will open on the right.
I smile.

In these shoes? I don't think so...

2010-02-11T21:17:00.002+08:00

Every girl loves shoes... It's one of those must-haves. A perfect pair that would be a match to a perfect outfit. Like every girl, I too have a love for shoes, especially boots. Every time I would visit the mall and go to a shoe store, the first thing that I gaze lovingly upon are boots. Boots of all shapes, color, texture and sizes. From your ankle-high ones to the almost to your knee-length boots. And boy do I have a story to tell myself.

My first pair of boots were bought in Hong Kong. And before I could even possess one, my sister and I went from one store to another (which we also did in Macau, but unluckily, the pair we wanted wasn't in Macau). If you're in Hong Kong, be prepared for the long walk (and when I mean long, it's really long). We had to go catch the MTR (or MRT counterpart) and get from one station to another, then walk a LONG walk to the stores. And mind you, I was literally drooling over boots upon entering the store. I have actually ran in those boots, almost broke my ankle in those boots and I wear them to work (despite the heat). But despite it almost cracking by the heel, I love them and I still wear it once in a while. Now, I am a proud owner of another pair of boots. A designer pair from Milan, Italy (velvet to the touch, pointed but wedged heel) which I also used in Hong Kong for my second travel there, and another pair of green denim boots which has a nice price of can you believe it? 100 pesos!!!!

I love those boots! Even if at the end of the day, my leg muscles are killing me from wearing those boots, I still wear them to work, and it makes me feel like a million dollars wearing them. I've worn them to events by Embassies, in the Cultural Center of the Philippines and to school most of the time. One time, my classmate asked me to walk in the rain wearing the denim ones and over puddles of water, I batted an eyelash and said without ado: Sweety, in these shoes? I don't think so ;)

Sherlock Holmes this January 2010

2009-06-23T08:13:00.002+08:00

Robert Downey Jr. as Sherlock Holmes?!?!?!

Set against a fog-stained Westminster backdrop, the eye-catching posters show Robert Downey Jr.'s Holmes carrying on the debonair combination of style and six o'clock shadow familiar from the trailer (still no sign of a deerstalker), while Jude Law's Watson has gone seriously Saville Row in an awesomely Victorian three-piece. The cane - traditionally Holmes' weapon of choice - seems to fallen into the good doctor's possession.

Holmes has traditionally spent a lot of time musing on cases from the velvetine comfort of 221B Baker Street, but Ritchie's reboot gets him out and about in the dark alleyways of 19th century London, meeting people and generally beating the hell of them. The sleuth, as they say, is out there.

SHERLOCK HOLMES opens in theaters locally on January 8, 2010.

So watch out for the film... I will :)

Io veramente sono spiacente...

2009-06-11T11:52:00.002+08:00

Caro Damian,

Io avevo torto. Offenda pensare che avrebbe funzionato fuori tra noi. Io credevo che gli errori sarebbero rettificati questa durata che non c'è stanza per un altro errore. Ma questa durata, era ora stessa quello ci provati ambo sbagliato. Io ora ho la risposta che mi guiderebbe pacatamente indietro alla vita che era giustamente il mio. Forse poi La guiderà così come mi guidò.

Io sono spiacente... Ma io devo citare una linea dalla canzone di Taylor che accerchia vero per i due di noi: tutti io stavo sprecando questa durata, sperando che Lei passerebbe... Io sto distribuendo ogni volta di opportunità, e tutto che Lei fa mi è deluso...

Con amore,
Danielle

To Mom with Love

2009-05-11T14:36:00.002+08:00

I know you've heard of lines like: "My dad is better than your dad, or my mom is better than your mom..." I'm not going to compare my mom against your mom. For I know that our moms made us grow the best way possible in her own special way.

My fondest memory of my mom, was when I was really young. I was aged 7 that time and my mom (like all moms who had to go to work) was quite busy. I remember her heading out of the house with her blue high-heeled shoes, blue slacks, blouse and blazer (it changes by day, brown or gray the next day), rushing into the car with my dad who would also head to the office for the day. She would give me a kiss on the cheek and run off. We would see each other by lunchtime and when she comes home from the office. Oftentimes when she had to go off and inspect some of the sites she has been working on, I would be left with my oldest sister, and some older brothers at home. My dad had to be off somewhere doing Medical Missions in different provinces. Some of those Medical Missions were the most memorable in Philippines history: Ormoc Tragedy (1992), I was 6 years old then, Mount Pinatubo erupting in 1991, I was 5 years old then. I remember my mom cuddling me and my older sister assuring us that dad would be home safe from the missions. After those missions, 1993 I got sick with Type 2 Dengue and my mom had to take care of me when I was in the hospital. They were worried sick, for I was 7 years old then and my frail body was infested with the second (if not deadliest) type of dengue. My mom would be at my side wiping my hot brow and sleeping on a couch beside my hospital bed. A few months after, thinking that I would be out of harm's way, I was sick yet again not with a virus, but this time, my appendix burst and I had to undergo surgery. I was aged 8 when I had my Appendectomy. My mom, was outside the operating room waiting and my dad was inside holding my hand while I was going under the knife. I even remember counting the number of lights on the overhead light.

Paradise...
After having my appendectomy, my father got assigned on an island paradise. Known to the world and famous for its white sandy beaches. Boracay was the ideal place during that time. Almost uninhabited by people. During that time, I was able to bond with my mom nonstop. We were inseparable, picking up seashells on the shore, watching the waves crash on the sand, and it was Boracay where I learned how to cook rice at a young age of 8. My mom was there to pick me up after school and we would either walk by the bay and talk about how school went or we would take a tricycle ride home. I also learned the importance of money during that time, since all things in Boracay were expensive. It was truly paradise indeed.

Nature trail...
Eight months later, my father got reassigned again, and this time we moved to nature-lush Laguna. A landmark for Mt. Makiling and Jose Rizal's hometown, Laguna is also know for its buko pie and espasol. My mom was my constant companion throughout my school days. I was in the 4th grade then and my mom would pick me up from school. Upon arriving home we would go over the lesson I learned from school. At this time in my life, my mom taught me how to sweep the floor and wash my clothes. For me, it was the beginning of my independence and at the same time a learning experience that would last me my entire lifetime.

Back at the metropolis...
After spending six months in Laguna, my father got reassigned yet again back in Manila. And this time, I recalled that my mom went with me to my school field trip. And it was during these times when my mom would slip in my lunch box "notes". These notes, were some inspiring thoughts and messages that I could learn a lot from. Today I still call them love notes from mom.

Turmoil years...
High school years are the turmoil years. Hormones change and the angst you feel against your parents are raging inside of you. For me, it wasn't angst. It was love. Through those turmoil years, my mom was there for me. She taught me how to cook and I will always treasure that from my mom.

Now that I've grown, I thank my mom. And my mom's mom. Without them, I wouldn't be here. And I wouldn't have learned all these things. Memories that are timeless... I really regret the times when I do something to hurt my mom or my dad. But I will always be thankful for them being my parents. I recalled when someone tried to hurt me emotionally and my mom was there to tell me, that there is someone out there far better. The guy who tried to hurt me, doesn't deserve me, she said.

Mom... I love you. 360 degrees... all throughout.

At a glance...

2009-04-13T16:26:00.003+08:00

I was looking at an almost empty page of my journal. Searching that maybe I have tried to muster the courage to write what once was. But then again, I did. I wrote my soul out. I remember each and every memory, smiles and pains. I wanted to grab the car keys and run away forever. But running away meant I have given up a battle that has already been foretold.

There are days meant to unfold and tell us something of what's about to happen. I was thankful, that despite the pain I have been through, my prayers never goes unanswered.

Few years back, I was asking for a closure that I thought would never be given. Two nights ago, it came. I used to dream of the house in the middle of a forest, with a little kid, a guide, to tell me of what to do. The memories replaying night by night. What happened was meant to be forgotten, but they replayed in my heart and there are nights when I cry myself to sleep and wishing that one day, I would never wake up. My dreams show of me of anguish and pain, of pointing fingers, who to blame and who has to leave. But that night in question proved to me otherwise, that I in my own sense, have found the closure I needed. He's finally happy for me. For the first time in two years, he has told me, that I have made a great choice and that he's happy for me. No more haunting me of what could've been, and should have been.

Now I face the future with a smile in my face. This is my year. Like what the song Here Comes Goodbye by Rascal Flatts say, goodbye has come for my past.

Looking for a place to fall asleep... Numbing me out.

2009-03-23T07:34:00.004+08:00

It's bad enough, that the people I work with wants me to change everything: my looks, the way I dress, etc. (not that it's not good or anything), but my flesh and blood had to dictate to me who should I fall in love with. The last time she did that, it made me clean a mess that wasn't mine. Where's the guy now? Married. With a family of his own. Me? Still here and pretty much broken. Can't my own sister be happy for me for once? I'm always happy for her whenever she finds her love. But with me? No one is good enough. It's either he's not good-looking enough or something. And even if she wanted someone for me, would it be the same time as the last one? Another who will slip through my fingers. I wanted a life of my own, different from hers. I've been wanting to go to law school and medicine school, but she's been telling me that it won't mean a thing when I get married. At least, for me I know I have a back-up, a dream and more importantly: a life. The new one she wants for me, is not that bad. I get along with him and his entire family. They're great, no dull moments, like mine. But like I said, the last time she dictated who I should like, was one of my darkest moments. Nights when I hug myself tight and rock myself to sleep while crying. Trying to forget and numb the pain out.

Sleep is the only solution to take away the pain. And every time I wake up, I keep on wondering what kind of new scar will it bring to me.

Fade to grey...

2009-03-03T10:50:00.000+08:00

Dreams usually tell us what might lie ahead. For me, it was a recurrent dream that I have encountered two years back. Something that was hard to forget, for it has involved a house in the middle of a forest. It was nighttime in my dream and there was a thunderstorm outside. Lucas, the little boy who visits me in my dreams is sitting at the bottom of the staircase with a scared look in his eyes. He was afraid of thunderstorms, although he loved the rain.

"Why are you still awake at this time? It's getting late," I told Lucas sternly.
"I can't sleep. It's too loud. Will daddy be coming home?" inquired Lucas pleadingly.
"He's coming home, I'm not just so sure about the time. Why don't I tuck you in and I will let you know when he has arrived. Would that be fine?" I asked.
"Yes that would be fine..." his voice trailing. A knock on the front door interrupts Lucas for a second.
"Now who could that be at this time of the night? Wait here" I instruct to him by the middle of the staircase. I open the door and there in black overalls, pants, jacket and cowboy hat stood Adam.

Adam. What was he doing here?

"I've come for my children and you," spoke Adam in a terse voice.
"Children? They're not yours," I answered bravely, trying to hide the fear in my almost broken tone.
"They're my children and you're my wife. You're coming home with me," commanded Adam with a booming voice.
"Wife? I was and never will be your wife when you chose the path your treading right now. You lost me ages ago. These kids were never your children!" I answered back, almost crying.
"Mommy, where's daddy?" cried Lucas.
"Daddy's coming. Go upstairs to your brothers and sister. Wait for me there," I ordered Lucas sternly. "Adam, please leave. They are not your children, nor am I your wife. My husband is coming. You have no right to be here," I begged.
"This is your husband?" Adam picking up the photo frame by the console, he continues, "you replaced me with him? Amy, you replaced me? How could you do such a thing?" asks Adam.
"You left. And that was your choice," turning my back on him I trudge up the stairs with Lucas.
"Amy. AMY!!!" shouts Adam.

And I wake up.

Scars

2009-02-24T00:09:00.002+08:00

It's been two years. Two years since the pain. It was exactly the same time, same month when he began saying goodbye. I wanted to let go so badly, but I wasn't given the chance. I was asked to hold on, because it wasn't over till it's over. I already knew, months before, that it was over. The moment when I was approached by someone close to his heart and claimed him as her own, I knew I have lost. But then I was asked to hold on. A photograph that could only tell me of what once was, is still saved on my cellphone's internal memory. Before he left, he made a promise that he would write or call. That letter never came, my phone never rang. And I waited against false hopes that he would return. I would receive occasional hi and hellos through our common friends where he was. But was that even enough to make me stop crying? Will it comfort me of how he is? Like a woman of the desert, I await by the dunes, hoping only for a second that it wasn't merely a mirage that I will be seeing, but the real thing. Months after he left, his brother asked for my help to set-up his wedding. He said that I shouldn't worry about him, his brother, for I will be seeing him then in a few months time. Another false hope. So I helped and waited. But I told myself, that even if he comes, it will never be the same. I then receive news that he has reunited with a former flame, a flame that in the long run was never extinguished. I was expecting that from the beginning when I saw a dream, an omen that would tell me to just move on and never look back. I never told my sister, or friends, for they will never understand. They would make me hope again. As the day of the wedding of his brother arrives, we meet. He runs towards me and asks me how I am. I tried to be cold, but that didn't stop him from introducing me to his parents, who welcomed me warmly. And as the wedding draws to an end, he walks towards me and my family and extends his hands to shake my father's. His old flame now comes rushing to his side. He introduces her with her first name only, but when my mother asked who she really was, she answered with all her glory that she was his girlfriend. My parents didn't flinch nor show any emotion. But my sister did that night. Telling me that I didn't deserve to get hurt. And hopefully, just hopefully, that they will both be happy despite what they did. I have tried to move forward. But something is stopping me. I envy those who have found their closure. I just pray I find my peace and someone to catch me as I fall.

Scars

2009-02-24T00:09:00.000+08:00

It's been two years. Two years since the pain. It was exactly the same time, same month when he began saying goodbye. I wanted to let go so badly, but I wasn't given the chance. I was asked to hold on, because it wasn't over till it's over. I already knew, months before, that it was over. The moment when I was approached by someone close to his heart and claimed him as her own, I knew I have lost. But then I was asked to hold on. A photograph that could only tell me of what once was, is still saved on my cellphone's internal memory. Before he left, he made a promise that he would write or call. That letter never came, my phone never rang. And I waited against false hopes that he would return. I would receive occasional hi and hellos through our common friends where he was. But was that even enough to make me stop crying? Will it comfort me of how he is? Like a woman of the desert, I await by the dunes, hoping only for a second that it wasn't merely a mirage that I will be seeing, but the real thing. Months after he left, his brother asked for my help to set-up his wedding. He said that I shouldn't worry about him, his brother, for I will be seeing him then in a few months time. Another false hope. So I helped and waited. But I told myself, that even if he comes, it will never be the same.

I then receive news that he has reunited with a former flame, a flame that in the long run was never extinguished. I was expecting that from the beginning when I saw a dream, an omen that would tell me to just move on and never look back. I never told my sister, or friends, for they will never understand. They would make me hope again.

As the day of the wedding of his brother arrives, we meet. He runs towards me and asks me how I am. I tried to be cold, but that didn't stop him from introducing me to his parents, who welcomed me warmly. And as the wedding draws to an end, he walks towards me and my family and extends his hands to shake my father's. His old flame now comes rushing to his side. He introduces her with her first name only, but when my mother asked who she really was, she answered with all her glory that she was his girlfriend. My parents didn't flinch nor show any emotion. But my sister did that night. Telling me that I didn't deserve to get hurt. And hopefully, just hopefully, that they will both be happy despite what they did.

I have tried to move forward. But something is stopping me. I envy those who have found their closure. I just pray I find my peace and someone to catch me as I fall.

Should've been...

2009-02-12T13:02:00.002+08:00

The last thing that I wanted to happen is get a call from someone connected to my past. It's a slap to my face telling me what I have lost. I've moved on, but it takes only one call to bring all the painful memories. My mistake, was I took the call, only to hear what would've been. Call it condescending, but I have tried. The caller would've been, should've been more than a friend, but a brother. I was asked to wait for something that would never come, by the person I trusted the most, my sister, my own blood.

I thought it wouldn't hurt, but it did. In the end, I lost. Promises were made, but were broken. I know I would fake it by saying I'm fine. But that would be another lie.

Maybe, just maybe, I would be saved someone before I drown.

Maybe...

2009-02-05T23:31:00.004+08:00

I was looking at a painting the other day, trying to figure out what inspired the artist to paint such hues of red and blue. At some point it made me realize that I do the same thing with my writings. Some ask what inspires me to write from the inner sanctum of my soul. I smile. Secretly hiding the real meaning within, for no one will understand. They never will. Something inside of me was willing to run away and never look back. Instead I write. I pour my soul out onto a piece of paper and write.

A question traced the lips of one. Query into how I really feel. Was I okay? Was I doing fine? How will I survive? My answer will always be the same: "I'm fine, life's going great never better." But inside I am slowly melting into a quicksand of pain. Each grain slowly sinks me in sorrow. I have managed to smile despite the bitter tears that cascades from eyes.

People knew. But never asked me, with respect to how I would feel. Yet in their eyes I could feel the pity. Their lips tried to tell me how sorry they were for me. But never managed to escape.

Once there was a soul, who looked for herself amongst the ruins of a former self. But she could not seem to find what she might have lost. Was there? Was there really something missing to begin with? Maybe, just maybe. I hear a lot of stories that someone has fallen for me and would like to watch the stars with me at night as they begin to play with the ascending moon in the velvety sky. But my ears are beginning to become deaf. Maybe I didn't wanted to hear another in fear that the same thing might happen again. A mess that's not even mine, that I have to clean up.

I just wish that I find the truth soon. To end this confusion and find peace that's rightfully mine.