The Flight of the Rocketman

I find myself again in an internet cafe because, God knows, someone is bound to be on the computer at home or the fucking DSL is all screwed up and I don't want to have to deal with that... I'm just so physically, emotionally and mentally tired. The wedding is finally over, Holy Week is coming up and so my body recognizes the chance to rest and relax and just let go.

I hope I don't get sick.

It is quite amazing that your body knows so much about what it needs and you can't lie to it. You cannot pretend that you are busy when your not as busy as you really are. Your body just knows and begins to slow down. During hectic, stressful weeks, you get on by with only 3 hours of sleep and then, during vacations, your body just knows and you sleep for 12 hours straight; catching up on lost rest. Your body knows just how much it needs to get on by.

The wedding was gorgeous. I would've enjoyed myself more had I been given the opportunity to mingle, drink a bit and danced. But I was going around fixing up stuff, fixing up the program. Too much to do but it was perfect. Both parents of the bride and groom enjoyed themselves and, most importantly, my brother and my sister-in-law had a beautiful wedding. The place was gorgeous and was so well decorated. The food was marvelous and it was well attended.

But now, my body needs rest. I need a rest. I need a vacation. I can't wait for Holy Week when I'd be going to this gorgeous island in Quezon with great friends. I can't wait for a chance to just vegetate and help out with the preparations of my friend's procession.

My God! I don't even think I'm spelling straight! I think my spelling sucks today! I'm too exhausted to write here. Next time again... when things are less hectic.

And now the computer is acting up... The internet is never always working and I find myself at another internet station just to check my mail and friendster. Technology! Bah! This stupid country can't even support a working system. We really are doomed. We'll see who wins for President... If FPJ wins, then we know we aren't ready to govern ourselves yet.

Oh wel... I don't want to be political. Not now, not with Datu's wedding coming tomorrow. I just had to leave the house and get some air. I couldn't take it... sleeping in the sala, not sleeping right away because my other brother who was going to sleep in the sala wanted to watch something on the television, waking up to a baby crying. I love my family, don't get me wrong, I love them... but really... I need space.

Well, let the wedding come. Let's have a beautiful celebration. Let the day be filled with wine and roses. And then I can get on with my life the way it was. That would be sweet. A little slow pace... let work be my only stress. That's all I want at the moment...

It's a full house at my place. It's going to be this way for a while. And my sleeping habits have changed because the schedule to use the computer is completely off and my brother's wedding is coming nearer and, well, there's just not enough space for me to be alone with myself.

Don't get me wrong, I love my family, but we've never had to be in such cramped quarters for a long while now. We've always lived in a big house before and this condo ain't big enough for the whole clan anymore. Then, my sister and her daughter will be arriving soon and that's going to be a tight fit. I love my sister to pieces, but then again, there goes all my privacy until after the wedding.

It's just tough not having room to breathe like I used to. I'm probably going to miss it all when they all go after the wedding. But right now, I'm just dying for some alone time. If it weren't so hot (the summer sun is scorching nowadays), I'd probably go out and spend alone-time in the mall or something. Not that I can really be alone in a mall... Everybody is there. Everybody will be watching. Can't enter fantasy mode there.

And friendster has reached full capacity now... I've hit 500 friends and I had to open a second account to account for all the people that I keep meeting and all the new interesting people that keep wanting to contact me. It's strange, really but kind of flattering at the same time.

Let's see where all this goes. I'm a free agent again, after all. People keep coming and going. They don't seem to want to stick it out with me. The one's that I want anyway and all of a sudden I'm not taking it personally anymore. If that's where the wind blows, I'll let the cradle fall there. I'm still a little hurt but not destroyed. I'm sure I was a wreck last week but not now. As Kate would say: "This is not our last day on Earth!"

If I could take over
this world that we're in
I wanna reach out
To every human being
-- A Love to Share, Rivermaya (words and music by Rico Blanco)

If I may just say, despite the fact that I'm doing two major jobs on The Cory Quirino Show... Despite the fact that everyday, I end up tearing my hair and losing my sense of humour... Despite the fact that I have to deal with the decisions of three different groups and coordinate these decisions (the creative side, the host, the producers); I think I'm doing a pretty good job. Yes, this journal entry is more like an obligatory (quite a contortion feat, actually) self patting on the back.

What I do is not easy. The amount of rational work, equalled to the amount of creative work that I have to do on a day-to-day basis is just overwhelming. Especially for someone who hasn't worked very hard in the past two years. I've gotten soft, which was my biggest fear coming into freelancing. I thought that the first few months I'd not have enough work, I'd get comfortable doing nothing. Who knew that for 2 years, I wouldn't be swamped with work and would only get enough to get by? As you know, things never go as planned.

And now, here I am, writer/production manager of a very interesting and well-watched show, as I was told. And now, slowly, I'm building a work-ethic that has cut my sense of humour by 1/4 of its original degree. I'm still a wise-ass but I'm not as frequent...

Sometimes I am amazed by my own resilience. Anything to get to do what I want. Afterall, the pay is good and the work is media related. It's all about the medium and adjusting the medium to better improve the process of communication. Let's say that this isn't what I want to talk about but it is a start. Eventually, I am learning how to put my own words into my host's mouth. Through editing, I might be able to tell the story in my words. Maybe not, since most of the time, I have no opinion or true regard over the opinions in our show. But eventually, a time will come and I will get to say what I want.

This is all means to an end. Eventually, I will develop and learn and become a great writer and production manager. People will trust my work and my efforts. Someday, some one will give me my television show that I can write and produce. These are all steps. The staircase may look long and intimidating, but the only way to go up is by beginning your climb.

I just bought Across the Nightingale Floor and though the book is entertaining, it isn't as good as I was hoping it to be. It is definitely an adventure book for young adults (say about 15 to 18) and so I'm a little bogged down by the simplicity of language. I was hoping for more J.R.R. Tolkien fare or even Steven Pressfield. This is so Harry Potter, as you know, I have no affection for the book (though, my bad, I have not read one to justify a reason for not like the stupid spell-casting jock). Maybe it is because I've never been a big fan of reactionary characters. I used to be amused by Herge's Tintin series, but after a while, I realised that Tintin was only successful because he had a great deal of luck. Read a lot of Tintin and you'll notice that often times, he gets away because he meets someone who is friendly to his cause, or someone trips and falls or a brick falls from the sky and lands on the opponents head. He is not as clever as I thought him to be. Which is why I enjoy reading Philip K. Dick novels. Despite the fact that his characters are reactionary to an awe inspiring, philosophical albeit strange situation, his characters transfer from reaction to action.

Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere was exciting a book, though the main character was reactionary but I still appreciated it because the world was just absolutely fascinating. At the same time, the character is not from that world. Gaiman's characters have to be reactionary because they are introduced into a world so very foreign from our own reality. The main character is us, being introduced into this strange, fantasickal world. But once the readers are savvy to the new rules of this strange, new world, the character, realistically, finds his own personal balance and begins to take charge, take effect; to initiate.

Watching the Harry Potter movies, everything happens to Harry Potter. He doesn't really start anything. He is given broomsticks, clues, magical cloaks. He is forced to make a reaction rather than take action on his own. Based on the movie, he is extraordinary because as a child, he was able to stop a powerful wizard from killing him (but in my understanding, it was his mom who gave her life to stop him). But that's it, as a child. So he was born with great power but he doesn't do anything about it. I don't know. My eldest brother Bing also notes the fact that he is a jock. A great Quiditch player, which is the wizard and witches' equivalent to football. American football at that!!!

My goodness! Here I go rambling on about wizards and witches, books and authors. When am I going to finish my own, huh? Here I go talking and talking and nothing to show for. But if anything, I think I can always defend my opinion if I must.

To a particular person: I waited until I couldn't anymore. What happened to you? You don't text or call as often as you used to. One call to rekindle hopes and dreams but 3 days of silence has sparked out whatever was there. Are you really so busy that you cannot even text back? I thought I was so fascinating to you that you did not understand why you kept calling me...

Why can't people just say things directly, openly, truthfully? I did that recently with someone. I said, "I'm sorry, but I don't become friends with people I sleep with. If we're fuck buddies, then that's what we are, let's not get personal. But if we're friends then we don't have sex." It must've sounded horrible but it is better than avoiding the person later on, right? The truth hurts but at least the person knows what to deal with; rather than my situation now that I don't know what I'm supposed to do! I was told I was special and that there's nothing this person would like to do more than talk to me. But I haven't heard from this person in 4 days! How special am I now?

Jaypee, my Director would say that there is always a reasonable explanation. But Jaypee is a nice guy with a positive view of the world. I don't live in that same world, unfortunately.

There is something wrong. And I don't want to think it's me. No. I know it isn't me. It's just something I seem to bring about in people. I try to be honest and expect (hope) that it is returned. I can handle anything as long as I am told the truth. If you don't like me anymore, then say it. I can handle it. And I'll get out of your hair.

Filipinos are just too damned polite for their own good.

God! I was writing here, almost ending and my Dad's fucking computer just fucking died on my ass... Everything I wrote, over 5 paragraphs long lost to a stupid malfunction! Ugh! I don't seem to have the heart to write down what I had already written. Here goes...

But the dreaming is finished. Out of many possible natures of time, imagined in as many nights, one seems compelling. Not that the others are impossible. The others might exist in other worlds. -- Einstein's Dreams, Alan Lightman

Let's see, I was talking about Friday night. Friday night found me in the 99 party in Greenbelt 1, Expo Exchange. The organizers of the event wanted to recapture the feel and the vibe of the raves of 1999. So they put together the 99 party and it was wonderful. It was a great idea. All the DJs had to play the music of that era; the period when I started to go out and party. Fantastic DJs were present, the Philippines' best, in my opinion - Kevin Ruiz, Anthony Kierulf, Nick Jurado and of course, Manolet Dario. It was fabulous - the venue, the lights, the crowd, everybody dancing. I would have been dancing also. Would have, because I was working.

How strange to have been there, the perfect event; the perfect party for me and I was working. The Cory Quirino Show, the television show I am writing for was tapped as a media partner and we had to cover it. And so instead of dancing, I was running around after our camera man, taking down notes and getting the names and the occupation of the people we were interviewing. I was able to dance for 10 minutes when the camera man was shooting incidental footage but then the shoot was over and I had to go. I could've stayed but I felt I had to go to the office to finish the editing. My friends told me I could've edited the following day but why wait? Work is work. It pays my bills, give me a feeling of self-worth. That's just me. I'm trying to build a work ethic I can be proud of.

But the 10 minutes of dancing was wonderful! It was Manolet Dario, who in my opinion is the best DJ of the Philippines and his sound was absolutely fantastic! It was smoking! I was dancing, hollering and clapping. He's a legend and deserves to be. Those 10 minutes were the best of my life.

And our second co-host, Australian model Corey Wills was amazing. It was his first time to host anything and he was nervous but after the second or third shot, he was so at ease in his new role. It was amazing. I was so envious. I wish I had that sort of comfortability with the camera and the attention. I want it, I love it; but I can't deal with it. There he was, in front of the camera and talking to people, some strangers and he was just himself - natural, at ease. I would have been shaking all throughout. I want to be able to do that, I want the attention but when I get it, I start to freeze. A shiver, a chill starts to run down my spine, my mind starts skipping. I wish I had that confidence. Maybe it's because he's Buddhist. It's a zen thing. He's amazing. He should have his own show.

I wrote another song today and it's called "Smoke City." It isn't the best song and it's probably an album filler; not so much as a single but I still think it's good. I'm just so proud of myself - someone with no musical training or background, just an absolute desire and love of music and I've written 7 songs in 2 months. Not bad at all, in my opinion. And this was the most complicated yet, the melody sorts of shifts from verse to refrain to chorus and then bridge. I'm kind of proud of that. My other songs, though more beautiful, have more or less similar melodic patterns from verse to chorus. Probably the first song I've written "Your Name on My Hand" is the most complex but that was really lightning. It came from nowhere; a gift from the heavens, really. But this one, it just came to me. And it's not a love song. I like that aspect about it too.

One day I will learn to play the guitar and piano and I'll be able to carry a note and I'll sing these songs. I'll produce music. It isn't an impossible dream. Not anymore. Nothing really can stop me now. I have strength in my bones, I have power running through my veins. It's true, really. You can achieve anything if you put your whole body, mind and soul to it. The only thing, really, that is stopping us is fear. It's the real killer.

So like I wrote in one song "Don't Stop at the Green Light" : "fear is the killer, don't be killed." There is a lot of truth in that...

Pour the acid in my eyes
Burn the pictures in my mind
Take everything away from me
Cuz you don't exist if I don't see
-- You Don't Exist, Leah Andreone

I'm just too busy these days. Work is getting more and more hectic as I take in a second position of significance in the television show I work on. I love my job. I love the idea of all this work. But I fear my other activities shall suffer. Like writing here on my journal. After all, when there is so much to do, you cannot afford the time of certain luxuries. And this is a luxury for me...

I didn't notice
But I didn't care
I tried being honest
But that lead me nowhere
-- One of These Days, Michelle Branch

To one particular person: I don't know where you are and what you are doing now. All of a sudden, all the drama I left behind I seemed to have picked up all over again. I ended things because I didn't want to play games. I ended things because I felt I deserved better. I ended things because I think I shouldn't pursue a friendship if I was falling in love with you. As my friend, Morx, would say, it is "unethical." I ended things because I can't be in love with you if you are attached. That is totally against my cardinal rules. And so I ended it. I guess, at one point, I was hoping that you'd ask me back. I guess, at one point, I felt I was worth leaving your partner for. I was just being honest. I thought that would account for something.

I watched the station
Saw the bus pulling through
And I don't mind saying
A part of me left with you
-- One of These Days, Michelle Branch

I've written five songs in the span of two months. I wrote another one, but it is ugly. It isn't even filler music or a b-side. It needs a lot of work. I kind of like the chorus lyrics that I wrote for it: "I can't open doors if I don't close the others/ I'm not the kind of person who would play with people's hearts/ There's no back-up plan, your first thought's the best one/ Wait for the ending before you begin to start." And I got this great rock riff and melody for the chorus but the verse melody sucks and lyrics are kind of lame. I got to work on it some more. I don't have a real rock song yet that I've written.

Where am I getting at? How strange that one person can affect me so much and yet I can't seem to write a song about this person. I've written tons of poems and short stories about people, people who don't even matter sometime. At a drop of a hat, I wrote my first blues song (it's really cool, the title is "Don't Stop at the Green Light"), it's rockin'. But I can't seem to write a song about this person. Maybe because songs about regret and longing should be handled with a lot of restraint. Otherwise, they'd come out ugly, sentimental and crappy.

Did I make you nervous?
Did I ask for too much?
Was I not deserving one second of your touch?
-- One of These Days, Michelle Branch

Yet Michelle Branch does it so well. All of a sudden, I have this aching need to get the album, even for just the song "One of These Days" which seem to stem from the aching in my heart. How sappy! I should just hit myself with a hammer. But I have to stay true to my principles. I will not be anybody's number two. I will not be anybody's two week thrill. Actually, two-week thrill will make a great song. I just have to write it.

Of course, I feel weak. I want to text this person, text and explain all that I feel. Write one of my epic letters that are written so beautifully (I used to write such great long letters) but that won't help me. I'd be putting myself back where I first started and no, that's not where I want to go.

I'll just take this longing and bring it as far as it can until it just dies out. Like any flame, it will die out. As cliche as it sounds, many of my friends tell me that this won't be the last. There is someone out there who will take care of my feelings, want me and need me and I will feel exactly the same way. This person is not the last in a long line of desirables who have left me in the curb. Seventy-two hours. It's a lot longer than it sounds. It's been seventy-two hours since this person's last text. And we use to text everyday; we use to talk for three to four hours everyday. Now, there is nothing but silence.

I think there's a song there.

I just want to be living as I'm dying
just like everybody here
just want to know my little flicker of time is worthwhile
and I don't know where I'm driving to
but I know I'm getting old
and there's a blessing in every moment every mile
-- Homecoming (Walter's Song), written and performed by Vienna Teng

I spent most of my birthday in Quadrillon, the old studio unit I used to live in. I was cleaning house, in preparation for my brother's eventually moving in. I ended up throwing old pictures, old letters, old artworks. I decided to keep only the things I felt that mattered. How strange, really, to be spending your twenty-fifth birthday getting rid of the past. It couldn't have been any more symbolic had I written it myself. It was really quite exhilirating to be letting go of the past and just looking forward. It was truly a conscious decision to not keep any tangible traces of these moments. They will be remembered in my head, in my heart and will be remembered the way I want to remember them. There will be no letter, no picture, no trace of the life that I once lived. It will be dictated by my memory.

And we all know memory is not a reliable thing.

My good friend DC then came by and hung out with me at my Mom's condo. I haven't seen this guy since December and I miss him dearly. Someone I truly connect with in so many aspects, so many levels. His friendship is true and solid, at least. He's someone I don't hear from in weeks but I always know that he will be out there watching my back, as I hope he knows that I will be out there watching his. Things that distance or time does not rend apart. Our friendship is not some brittle thing. It does not crack at the mere touch of the heavy hand.

I find myself at a strange crossroad. My refusal to be sad or angry is keeping me confused. The person who has made me quite happy in the past few days (weeks, maybe) has begun to play games. I don't want to play games anymore. One of the reasons why this person has become so endearing to me is the fact that this person never played games, was always honest and true. And now, we find ourselves with coded messages, texts that seem so innocent yet ripe and full of meaning. The last two texts sounds like good bye. Maybe this person has returned to the significant other... How strange, really. Something I promised myself I would never become - somebody's number two. And all of a sudden, I met someone I felt was wonderful and great and was honest to me about everything and I was willing to become number two. And that was okay with me.

But now... games have begun and I don't want to play. I refuse to play. I said it a while ago and I will say it again: you may win the game, but anyone who plays always loses. The heart is not something that you just play with. It's about setting foundations of trust. I'm in a point in my life where if I am going to get serious then I'll get serious. There's no such thing as half-baked. If it's casual sex, it's casual sex; nothing more. You want to get serious with me, then we get serious. I'm not in it for the ride. I've been on my share of taxi cabs and other metaphors for riding, I don't need another one.

So do I have the strength to let go. Not yet. But give me time. You want to play games? Find another player. This one won't jump through no burning hoops to impress a crowd. I'm nobody's monkey. Not anymore.

Does that make me someone who is not willing to risk all for love? I don't think so. I don't toy around with my feelings. I've made the admission - I said I was falling in love. If this person wants to drop the ball, then fine. That's the perogative of the one who now carries the choice. And I respect the decisions you make. Hey! It's your life, not mine. And I don't believe in imposing my own beliefs on other people. I just don't.

But I'm not going to be unhappy or disappointed by all this. No way. I have no reason to be. I'm happy now, I've got control (or at least a semblance of control) of my life and I plan to take it as far as I can. I know I only have a limit of three to four months of happiness before I sink into my depression. I want my three to four months of happiness. Nobody is taking this away from me.

Nobody.

Fate determines who comes into our lives. The heart determines who stays... -- Anonymous, texted to me by my Dad

Funny, I love that line but I don't believe in fate. I believe in coincidences, chance, luck and personal effort, drive and will power. I believe that we make things happen and that nothing is predetermined. That happiness is at the palm of our hands. We twist events with the power of our wills; we make things happen by sheer determination. Our wants and wishes are actually messages that spring through the void and if we want something enough, we make it so.

I have to believe that. Otherwise, what's the point in moving forward? What's the point in wishing and dreaming and working hard for what we want if it was already predetermined.

It's my birthday! Happy birthday to me! Funny, actually. Last year, I texted everyone sending them a sentimental message about how much they mean to me and how important they are to my growth as a person. This year, I took the exact opposite route and decided to be low-key about it. I don't need much, this time, I'm happy already. I've found things that seem like they want to be kept. I've thrown away things that I've held onto for so long that was never really good for me. I'm working again - a productive member of society. I'm doing things I feel like I am good at. I get to share what I have and what I know. What more can I ask for?

And the people who have greeted me! The people who remember! It's amazing! People I have resented actually remember my birthday. It looks like that the events of the past must be re-examined to be able to properly see what truly transpired. But maybe it does not need perusal. I think, I'll let sleeping dogs lie and just move on. I no longer carry resentment and anger in my heart for them. It's just the story I tell but not the way my heart beats. No more. If I see them again, I'll be genuinely happy to see them.

Life is strange but good. Maybe it's just because I'm in a good state right now. I'm in a good place. For me, all things are right in the world again. Let this be the way things are for a long time. I don't want to be unhappy again. And like I said above, it's all up to me. It's going to be my choice.

I finished reading Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code and it is a fun book to read. Very interesting book, lots of great theories. I've never really been a devout Catholic so it didn't shake up my faith too much. My relationship with my Creator is personal and will never be dictated to me by any institution. I know I don't hurt anyone (intentionally, at least) and I don't ask anyone to hurt anybody else, so my life is pretty moral. What I do to my own body is my choice. So my relationship with my Creator is clear. I do the things I like and I try to be the best that I could be which is all I believe God wants me to do: to be happy. It's a great book and if you keep an open mind, it might strengthen your faith in your God. It's amazing. Books that really make you think are the ones that are worth reading. Oh, yeah... And the ones that make you laugh.

I bought the new Vienna Teng album Warm Strangers and it's lovely. It's not as good as the first album Waking Hour but it is good nonetheless... Get it just for Harbor. Beautiful song. I wish I could sing and play the piano because there is someone I would love to sing it to. Ha Ha Ha

And Afterglow has been well worth the wait. Sarah McLachlan has made a perfect album this time round. Not one dud on this album. Almost all the songs are gorgeous with simple yet beautiful melodies and gorgeous lyrics. Time is my favourite song and the lyrics are poetic. It's a real poem, actually, put to song. The songs Push and Answer are also my favourites but only because there is someone I want to sing these songs to. Ha Ha Ha

Yeah, I'm happy right now. I'm 25! I'm quarter of a century old. And you know what? I can't wait to keep going, to let the days roll by and see what I can do with this life I've been given. If anything, I don't want to be known as ungrateful. Time does not stop and will not stop and I will just keep going. I'll see how far I can push this mind, this body and this heart. I'll just keep going and doing the things I want and doing the things that will make me the best that I can be. It's all, I believe, God really intended for us anyway.

At one point, you feel like you understand what is going on in the world. You kind of understand the system and the inner workings. And then you live your life that way and figure that this is the best it will ever get; this is the best it can be. And you are satisfied with that. You play by the rules, try to break a few and move on.

And then one moment, just like that, everything changes. You do something that you don't normally do. You do something that is not within the system that you understand and you hit jackpot. I've joined raffles and contests and I never win. I've sat down and put my heart down on the line and never found anyone eager to pick it up (well, there have been some but people I am not quite interested in; I don't believe in relationships without reciprocation) and then, in a single brave move, I've crossed a line I dared not pass and found myself in a place I've never been.

It is strange to be happy. Very strange to be so involved with any one thing or person at one time. I know I've been this way before but not like this. Not in equal measure. Not in a fair manner. I've never got what I wanted. And now I'm getting it in abundance. And all I really had to do was make the first step.

Say I like getting chased, but nobody I wanted felt the need to chase me. I switched roles for one moment and BOOM! I'm happy. I'm still single but I'm loved. I'm needed. And, more importantly to me, at the moment, I'm wanted.

And all the others that have been hanging on a thread with me are slowly let go. Not filling any sort of missing part in me (not that there was any, really), they have become just friends. And if they wanted more... Well, I was not put on this Earth to make them happy.

I don't believe in fate or destiny. It's all chance and coincidences and the luck of the draw and I was at the right place, at the right time and willing to do something I don't normally do. And I came out the winner of the pot. Everything. All of it. And who knows? I might lose it again, lose all my winnings, lose everything... But at least, this time, I know I am in the game. I know what it takes to win. I'm not afraid. I'm not giving up. It can happen. And not because it was predetermined by a/the higher being; but because when the moment comes again, I know I can do what it takes to play.

"To affect the quality of the day, that is the highest of the arts. Every man is tasked to make his life, even in its details, worthy of the contemplation of his most elevated and critical hour." -- Henry David Thoreau

I can't stay long. I am really sleepy and so though I wish to make this a long journal to explain and talk about my very unique, beautiful, wonderful (albeit strange) trip to Boracay... I have to mention something of greater significance to me.

The elusive bliss has wrapped its coils around me, much like a snake this time, or better yet, like a net. I find myself slowly running out of breath, slowly losing my freedom. And I like it. After all, I am in direct contact with the elusive bliss and this time, strangely, it does not want to let me go. I am happy for this, actually. I find myself doing something that I don't normally do and enjoying it. I find myself being more and more comfortable with myself. I find myself having an increasingly easier time to smile. And my Boracay trip is only a tiny, tiny fraction of it.

No, this time I am rewarded for my efforts. I decided to be brave. I decided to go after something I wanted and I was rewarded for something more than a simple pleasure or a cheap thrill. This time I was struck by something real and completely, utterly beautiful. Three or four hours of my days now are occupied by something so wonderful, so absorbing that I fear if I would lose it, it would kill me. But then again, I've said that many times before and I am still here, standing strong. No, this can only be the start, the beginning of greater things. I am definitely ready for it this time. The elusive bliss constricts me and I embrace it further. Don't let me breathe, I don't want to think for any one moment. Doubt has a powerful force, an ability to negate the joy that comes in from above. I won't let it take control. I will just let this in.

For the first time, I am truly happy.

To a particular someone: you make me smile. You make it easy for me to be me. You do not judge, you do not play games. You care about me, sometimes, for even just a slight moment, it seems, you care about me more than I care about you. But that cannot be. Because you are the only thing I want to take care of, right now. You and myself. How strange, this feeling that I get when I'm with you. This feeling of absolute joy. And all we do is talk, really. That is all we do. Do you complete me? I don't want to get ahead of myself. And how could you when I don't feel empty or hollow or lost? I cannot be completed by another person because I do not feel like something essential is missing. Instead, you fill me up. I am overflowing, abundant with love and energy and happiness. I just want to be worth you. Please remember, I am just human. There is only so much that I can do. But know that "so much" is equivalent to everything I have. I gave it all up once for one person who has proven that it was all a mistake, a misjudgement on my part. I don't mind doing it again for you. You are one of the few people I have ever met who was true, honest and real from the very beginning. You are a breath of fresh air. You are clean, clear water. You are softly burning flame. You are stable, solid earth. You have me by the heart, your hand broke through my chest and you are there gripping my heart. Do with it what you will.


To another person entirely: I have not heard from you in almost a week. I don't understand what happened. But then again, I have said quite often, I hear everything. Eventually, I will know. If not from reading you like a book, from people telling me things. And I have been told things. How could you when you know how I felt about the situation? How could you go to my friend, silently meet up with this person, knowing all that you know, having heard all that I have told you? And all of a sudden, you meet in secret, unaware that there are eyes watching out on my behalf. Eyes that I never put but have sprung on its own accord. You underestimated the love I shower over people. You underestimated the love I gave you. I wrote two songs because of you. There will be no more songs for you. There will be no more gifts, no more love. What you have thrown away, you cannot get back. I will not permit it. You do not throw me away and expect me to beg for you to take me back. I am not that way anymore. I thank you for helping me reach the point of a spine. But to lose it because of losing you would be moot. No, I learn. It may take me forever, but I learn. You may write your songs and I hope that they are true, that they are real, that they will be liked. My songs are no longer written for your voice. You never wanted them. And now someone does. All it took was to be honest to me. But your silence gave you away. You want to play games, go ahead. Only children play games. I hope that when the real world comes, you'll figure out how to survive in the adult's world.

And lastly, to someone who used to be special: I'm through with you. I've gotten you out of my system. You can try and take what you want. You'll probably get it, you are good at that anyway. I just hope that in the end, after you've received all that you wanted, there will be someone there waiting for you to share the loot of your plunder. I had always hoped that it would be me. I'm glad that I woke up finally. I was given a spine by someone I thought was special, now that person is with you. I hope you make each other happy but I sincerely doubt it. The both of you like to play games, but each abide by different rules. You'll probably kill yourselves trying.

There's too much drama nowadays. I just want to create something beautiful. I think, maybe, for the first time, I am actually ready. It's time I begin...

"This is happening here and now. It's got nothing to do with footprints. Reality and I exist simultaneously at this present moment. That's the most important thing." -- Sleep, written by Haruki Murakami (translated by Jay Rubin)

I'll be leaving for the beach tomorrow (or actually, in a few hours). As much as I wished it were a vacation, this trip is business. I'm going to Boracay to shoot some stuff for the television show I'm working on. It's great, a completely free working vacation. Everything is sponsored. Everything is settled through exchange deals. Free advertising for them, free accommodations, food and air fare for us.

And so we'll shoot all that we have to shoot and when we are done, we can enjoy and relax. We do have a full schedule, though, and we'll be spending a lot of time shooting. But the nights are generally free. It's all good.

I find myself completely enamoured by people who I connect with quite easily and quickly. Sometimes, as the days go by, as the years go by, you become accustommed to a certain rhythm in your life. You never get what you want; you never win the lottery; you aren't lucky; the things that will make you happy won't land in your lap. And you get used to it. You accept it as universal truth, as part and parcel of the manual that you've been given when you were born (except that God damned manual can't be read until you've reached a certain age; and it changes from time to time). And then, one moment, you do something that doesn't belong in the manual and all of a sudden, you get what you want, things you want come your way, you begin to deviate from the way your life has been going and all of a sudden, it just seems easier to smile and be happy. The jokes come out more freely. Your smile is sincere. It is easier to tell the truth, it is easier to be.

And I find myself easier to connect to. And I can spend 3 and a half hours on the phone with someone and just be totally caught up in the conversation that you don't realise how much time has passed and that you still have things to do and your bag remains unpacked and you've forgotten to get all excited about going. You just are.

As much as Haruki Murakami cuts down to the core of simple truth: reality and I exist simultaneously at this present moment; he seems to have forgotten to mention that so do different realities and different people as well. All existing simulataneously. They collide with each other and these bumps create inaudible sounds, but we can feel the vibrations in our hearts. And we exist because these vibrations tug us to different directions - love or work, money or honour and dignity, happiness or angst. And we start moving to that direction, whichever we feel we belong, whichever is necessary to us at that moment. And that movement is existence. All still objects, living or inanimate, do not truly exist. They are merely decorations in the fabric of time. They are merely design, ornamental. They can be covered or moved aside.

In the fabric of time, it is those in motion, those that take action that dictates the pattern.

The vacuum created by the arrival of freedom
And the possibilities it seems to offer
It's got nothing to do with you
If one can grasp it
It's got nothing to do with you
If one can grasp it

Yea Yea Yea -- up the hill backwards
It'll be alright ooo
-- Up The Hill Backwards, words and music by David Bowie

David Bowie totally astounds me. His discordant melodies and his fabolous, out of this world lyrics just takes me away from my moment. I cannot just play David Bowie in the background. If I play one of his songs, I have to completely remove myself from reality and just be totally involved with his lyrics and his music. It is such an absorbing element. It's ethereal matter. It takes up space but not in a tangible form. It's amazing. And his voice; so alien. I was going to call it pure but it isn't. It's just so "in your face," so powerful. It's menacing, actually. It forces you to deal with it.

I just came from a reading. I wrote a short story that entered this fabolous anthology "Growing Up Filipino" (get a copy, it's a great read! Eep! Shameless plugging...) and I'm still high from the event. After all, as one of the writers, I get to sit in front, side-by-side with people like Cecilia Manguerra Brainard, Krip Yuson, Jimmy Abad, Christina Pantoja-Hidalgo and my teacher in fiction Connie Jan Maraan. These are literary heavy-weights in Philippine literature and I'm a relative newcomer but I was treated as their equal. It was wonderful. It was like a rite of passage into a strange world of literary high society. I felt like a celebrity. It was great. I was so excited and thrilled that when I had to read an excerpt from my story, I ended up reading so fast. As usual, my blood pumps too quickly that my whole body reacts accordingly. I tried to slow down but it seemed like I needed less oxygen in my system. I just kept talking and talking. I could've gone on and on. I loved it. I can't wait to finally get my own book out! Ha Ha Ha

And that's the thing also... I don't feel so rushed anymore about finishing my novel. It would be great but there is no rush. I'll write it and add more and more to the story as time goes by but there is nothing to be disappointed in creating a large body of work, albeit short fiction and poetry. Who knows? Maybe after two years, I would have written enough to compile into a collection? That alone is a pretty big feat, nothing to scoff at. There is no need to rush. Slow and steady, in leaping is there a chance to fall hard and hurt yourself. If anything, I got time.

To someone: you are probably never going to read this. We haven't spoken much and we don't really know each other but from what I gather, you don't seem to be the type to read here. That is not some sort of negative criticism or judgement on you, by the way. It's just how I see you. But I have to let this out. Once again I am asked to keep a secret and this time I will keep it. This time my mouth is shut. The last time, I did pretty well. I lasted a pretty long time before I spilled. But as I said, I don't know you that well, but I will keep your secret. No one will know. I want you to trust me. I will do all I can to earn it. I wait for your texts; fearing early sleep because it might come at the dead of night. I wish to learn more. Explore. I am intrigued. I've started writing on my journal again, more frequently, a place where I can be more open, say your name and say how I really feel. I am once again brought to my most primal, to my most vulnerable. You have me in a corner and you don't even know it. If you squeezed, the pressure alone will snap me in two. But don't be careful, just be yourself. Let's see where this all goes. Every journey has a destination. I want to visit as many as I can.

I want to feel myself go under, baby
Where the deepest rivers bleed
I want to feel it pull me under, darlin'
Until it drops me to my knees
I want to know that I can find you
When there's no more eyes to see
In this cool, clear water runnin'
You'll come runnin' to me
-- Cool, Clear Water; written and performed by Bonnie Raitt