The Flight of the Rocketman

Travelers, there is no path. Paths are made by walking. -- Antonio Machado

I spent most of the week finishing a script that refused to fix itself up. The deadline was fast approaching and the Director and Producer kept inquiring over the piece and I would just stare and stare at the blank computer screen and find myself without any drive to start writing.

But eventually I did. I always seem to have a reserve of energy and determination at crunch time. It saved my butt was again but I really can't afford to keep doing that. It's not professional, it isn't responsible.

I find myself at a point when things are ending. Ending of a particular mood or atmosphere. One of my shows is ending its season and will not return. Another of my shows might not come back at all and I find myself trying to figure out what happens next. Amongst my friends, we've sort of reached a point where we know we must turn back or travel through a different road. If we stay on this one, it will tear us apart as individuals. I've run my good fortune through its final legs and must see if I've made something for myself, made good use of the time I was given.

This era, if I may call it that is coming to a close and a new one must begin. For every ending, a new beginning arises. One always does. I wonder what it would be like.

With the script over, I feel like I can try to regain a semblance of the life I was living back and then, I find myself staring at the end and awaiting for something new. I don't know why but I feel hopeful. I've never been very sentimental, as a person. I have gotten used to good byes and they don't really scare me. I've never been one who was afraid of moving on.

Maybe that's why I find myself listening to Leaving Las Vegas a lot. Sheryl Crow's song about moving on and realising that luck can only take you so far and when the cards are down and you've lost all your money; when the shit hits the fan and you're out on the dumps, you pack up your bags and move on. Hope springs eternal, she sings but I find it sarcastic more than a declaration of some truth. Hope is picking up the shattered pieces and moving on and fixing it in a better place.

After all, we all can't stay in one place forever.

I look at the clouds and the full moon that is ending and see a glimmer. Hope springs eternal. It never ends as long as we realise that when things end, something else begins.

We must not cease from exploration and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we began and to know the place for the first time. -- T.S. Eliot

Found myself going back to my old high school to give a career talk. I was suppose to inform the Senior class regarding choosing a career in the field of mass media.

How strange it is for me to go back, considering the fact that I never really enjoyed high school. All of a sudden, I found myself remembering little, insignificant details about my life that I wanted to forget. I felt pangs of nostalgia seeing my old teachers, good friends who have truly, in one way or another, shaped my personality.

I found it strange that on my Senior year in high school, we put together the first ever career and school orientation and almost 9 years later, I would be asked to come and participate in it, as a speaker, to be on the other end of the table. Considering the fact that my Dad went up and spoke about a career in the field of communications and mass media. How everything turns and how strange the cycles of life, eh...

There's a fine line between the things you want
And the things you have to do...
-- Leaving Las Vegas, Sheryl Crow

I made the mistake of talking about the amount of work you do when entering the career in the field of mass media and the amount of money you can gain from it if you work hard and you are good at what you do.

One student, a young senior, spoke up against my preoccupation with money and wanted to make a stand on helping others and about the serious side of communications. She didn't care about the entertainment value of the job but how it can help people.

I was struck with the idea of having been seen as greedy. My first instinct was to call her naive and foolish and that there was still a lot she had to know about life. Instead, I congratulated her and told her that I was happy to see someone who is not afraid to be straight-forward and that I applaude her for her intentions of being someone who wants to be helpful to society.

I apologised for the generalisation that I made that people their age would think of their career as just a means of making money.

I don't think of myself as greedy. If I was greedy, I could've taken an office job and made more money, I'm sure. Yes, I do make a lot when the projects come in. Yes, I can afford the lifestyle I have chosen for myself. But the real reason why I do the things I do is because I love what I do and not the money.

And I am not about helping people; I truly believe that people should help themselves. I want to create beautiful things, I want to create art. I want people to look at whatever work I do, be it a story, a poem, maybe a film and see something there that makes them value their humanity and life more. I want to provoke thought into people. I want them to see the world in a different way, give them more comparisons to make better judgements on the world.

This is what I want to do and, hopefully, get paid to do it so that I can also do things for myself.

Do I have to help people? I'm not sure if I have to. At the same time, I also don't know if I want to. After all, one must be descriminate when helping people. For all you know, the stranger you are helping out may be a criminal; may not have the best intentions in their hearts. And life is tough enough for me and my family. I am supposed to go out of my way to help a stranger?

No. I am not the Good Samaritan on the way home. I will help people I feel who are worth it based on my standards. Or I will promote change through my work, my creative output. I will try, at least. That's really how I can help, if I have to.

You must open your arms if you want to be embraced. -- Anonymous, as texted to me by my Dad

The full moon last night was gorgeous. The Chinese celebrate this Autumn Full Moon with a ceremony. This is when they start handing out the famous moon cakes. It is to celebrate family, love and good fortune.

I refuse to lose hope and I continue to believe in love. But I cannot spend time and effort on it. I am finally getting over the last heartbreak. I can make fun of it now and I find myself less and less affected by it as time goes by.

My arms are neither opened nor closed. They hang limply on my sides and will embrace the person who embraces me, if I do not find the person below my standards, that is... We must all have a standard.

I have been single for seven years. I can be single for seven years more, if I must. But I will not embrace just anybody. I am willing for it to happen. I can admit that I am hoping and even waiting for it to happen soon. But I will not just do it for the hell of it, just because I am lonely.

That's the worse thing to do at this point of time. It should be real. It's the only way that it would matter...

I've been walking around all day, thinking
I think I have a problem, I think I think too much
I've been taught to hold back my tears and avoid them
But you've made pain into something I could touch
-- Fragile (free), performed by Maria Mena (written by Maria Mena and Arvid Solvang)

The reason why I love elephants so much (so much to put a tattoo of one in my stomach) is that the inherent qualities they possess are so admirable. The precious (and quite cliche) elephant's sharp memory is one. The fact that they are these big, strong animals but are rather gentle (unless you provoke them, then they can be quite ferocious). The fact that the general aura they bring out is one of wonder and joy.

I remember when I worked in the zoo for civic duty (a stupid requirement from my school) and I was always so enraptured by the people's reaction to seeing the elephant. Thye were always so happy to see it and it could just be eating or drinking or taking a little shower. But people generally just loved the elephant. It is such a joyous animal.

My mom's guru and a shaman once asked me if I wanted to know what my power animal is. She asked me if I wanted to know what animal should guide me through the world. Apparently, when she tried to collect my missing soul fragments (another long story on its own, don't ask) I saw her power animals. She was quite impressed with that. So she asked me if I wanted to have my power animal identified. I said "sure." She then did her trance thing and went through me and discovered that my power animal was the elephant. After that, I knew I had to put an elephant on my body somewhere, thus the tattoo.

Apparently, the Elephant, being the joyous creature that it is could guide me through the world. Their ability to never forget is important to me because apparently, though I never forget myself, I also refuse to learn from past mistakes. I also have the capacity to be quite joyous and that quality can be infectious, but I also have moments of absolute depression which I should avoid. The Elephants strength is not in its size but in its capacity to make use of its size and weight. Nothing is merely powerful, you must be able to properly use your strengths and weaknesses. These are things I have to learn and that my power animal is trying to guide me through.

That's why I love elephants so much. I always have.

Being joyous is such a wonderful thing. And like most other wonderful things, being joyous is quite fragile, easily destroyed, easily broken. It has the capacity to be shattered with just a word, a look, a gesture. We must learn to twist ourselves to bend the light, to let the water just rush over us and not through us. We must learn to ride with the punches, to avoid the direct hit to keep these things from breaking us apart.

But if you are like me, and you enjoy the full force of everything this world has to offer; then learn to pick yourself up quickly. And learn to recognize where all the parts go and to put yourself together as quickly as you can.

Because being joyous is a wonderful thing. And it can be infectious.

Seven days and seven nights of thunder
The water's rising and I'm slipping under
I think I fell in love with the eighth world wonder...
-- Eighth World Wonder, sung by Kimberly Locke

Procrastination is truly a gift from God. And while it does not do much for the soul and it really makes things so much more complicated in the long run, there is so much fun in being able to just step away from all that shit that hovers around our lives.

He He He

The environment is not good for it but it would be nice to go swimming again. To be able to just submerge our entire being in the healing comforts of water. It is one of the natural states of man, after all. Were we not encased in a tomb of water for nine months?

Magick comes from the most unlikely of places. A rooftop in a Makati condominium is an example. Sitting, drinking a glass of good rum coke and just enjoying the company of friends, I looked out into the sky and saw a flash of lightning break the perfection of the night sky. The clouds moved just a little bit and there was the moon, almost coming into fullness.

Give it about two or three more days and it will be at its full strength.

I am thinking of India all of a sudden and the prospect of riding an elephant and being engrossed in such spirituality and culture.

I remember a trance song: "I regret tomorrow more than yesterday."

It is the quality of electronic songs to not be so clear. But it makes sense when you are not yourself; if you know what I mean... And that line makes so much more sense to me now then it ever did...

Always follow what's in your heart
Always listen to what's inside
Always fly high and don't come down...
-- lyrics of a trance song (I think it's "Pink Life")

Found myself coming into myself. Couldn't do any work. I was just listening to music and talking all night with an absolute stranger. I find that I need to pamper myself just a little bit and just learn to enjoy life again.

I want to go out and dance.

I want to do something crazy like go driving around at night and steal an FPJ election poster that is still up somewhere. According to Jayps, my best friend, that those will be a collector's item one day. After all, you think he's going to run for President again?

I want to go to some tall building's rooftop and lay on the floor (dirty or clean) and just watch the stars while having a cold drink in my hand - preferrably a vodka sprite.

Maybe I'll see a shooting star and I can make a wish.

I'd love to watch Big Business with my brother Jubal again.

I'd love to act in an independent film again. I miss acting.

It would be great to go to a beach and just listen to music. Perfect beach music? Chill-out music during sunset while holding a cold beer in one hand and a cigarette on the other. I'd be in my favourite grey tank top and board shorts and my sun glasses are on my head. I'd be swaying to the beat and then, when the night takes over and there's no more light except for that of the stars, I'd play some electronic dance music. That would be swell...

Swell! Ha Ha Ha I'd love to be able to have an extended conversation with friends and use words like 'Geez' and 'swell' and 'golly!' Ha Ha Ha That would be a trip.

I'm actually excited over the prospect of Halloween and dressing up which is usually a no-no for me. I hate the whole idea. It is no fun going to a costume party and to find one person not in costume. It ruins the whole experience. To see one person not in the spirit of the occassion can ruin the whole party for me. But I want to go in a costume and actually attend the party. That would be fun!

I want to go play kickball in the beach again; and even soccer. That would be fun.

Shopping for clothes. Ooh! Haven't done that in a month or so. I would love to get lost in the shopping stalls of the bargain areas of Greenhills and find a really good bargain. And then dress up in it for going out that night or weekend. That is always a thrill.

I'd love to eye-lock with a complete, total stranger and know that there is mutual affection. That the feeling is mutual. There is interest. And to just smile and not know what to do and have my heart palpitate. That would be fun.

Yeah, I should do some of those soon.

We are, each of us, angels with only one wing; and we can only fly by embracing one another. -- Luciano de Crezenzo

Just came from judging a talent show of some corporate event. It was all friendly and enjoyable and funny. It was crazy and very comfortable. Everyone knew everybody else and they were sincerely cheering for the contestants, even if they were not as great as the people you would see on television. But they didn't care. All they cared about was that they were there and performing for each other and they were doing things they love to do. It was sweet and wonderful.

People are at their most beautiful when they are at their most un-self-conscious. I wish that I would have a camera and look for people at these moments and take pictures of them. People deep in thought, or laughing away with friends; people sleeping or watching a movie. They are so beautiful.

So many people with parties this coming week. It seems to be so awkward to be feeling bad when there are so many people celebrating some thing these days. And who am I to rain on their parade, right? I'm allowing all this good energy to infect my being.

Truth is, life is really simple and we just complicate things. It's almost like human nature. Well, in this way, I'd rather be animal, primal, instinctual. Just forget it. Get the world off my shoulders and pull my head back and laugh really loud.

Laugh and the world laughs with you.
Weep and you lose them all.
-- The Children's Hour, the poet's name, I have forgotten, very sorry...

You cannot discover new oceans unless you have the courage to lose sight of the shore. -- Ferdinand Magellan

I've fallen with all these God damned quotes! My dad and friend's send them to me often. I go through books and magazines, listen to the lyrics of songs and if I find something that I love, I write them down for posterity. I put them here, even if there are connections involved to what I have to write.

I have always been an automatic writer. I just sit down in front of a computer and BLAM! something would have been written. It bothers me that people would say that writing is a frustration for them. It is outside my sphere of reference since I could just write without problems.

Right now, finishing this God damned script for an independent film I'm writing is killing me. It's the time pressure, I suppose, and the fact that I can't write in the confines of my home. I have to go to other people's homes to use their computer because there is no way I can/will write in an internet cafe. I've written my articles for Youngstar magazine here but then again, I can write those in my sleep.

And in relation to Youngstar, I've finally interviewed two interesting models for them the other day. It isn't the fact that they are foreign (half-foreign) and that they come from another country and have returned (most of the models I've interviewed before never even stepped out of the country); but it was something about them. The way they looked and the way they looked at me when I was interviewing them. I loved the intensity, the focus. I felt like a hack, talking to them, winging it all the way. It was strange. I'm not used to being put on the defensive.

Spent the better part of yesterday watching my Dad work and it was wonderful. Spent the better part of the afternoon conversing with great people, collaborating, working on possible scripts and ideas that can be used for shows. At one point, I realised I wasn't self-conscious of the idea that I was working with some really big names in our showbiz industry. There was one point that I really felt like I belonged.

Despite all my crowing, I still really am insecure and still afraid that I'm nothing more than my father's shadow. Then, I have a conversation or a discussion and realise that I can really hold on my own. I look at the scripts I'm writing (or I have written) and realise that I have made some sort of foundation. I can call this world my own if I want to.

I have been in the dumps for too long and all I really want is to get my CD player back so I can fill up the emptiness in my studio pad when I get home. Music is out of my life for the moment and I cannot deal as well as I usually do without it.

I close my eyes and extend my arms as far as I can. Sometimes I can feel it break off from the rest of my body and fall to the floor. This is the freedom of detachment. To feel the loss of your tools, your weapons and not really give a damn.

I am still in pain. I am still reeling from the loss. I can't believe I was not loved in return. It hurts so bad because it was the nearest I ever got to getting "the one." Without music, I cannot dwell and force myself in the dumps like I am accustommed to. Now, I really have to deal with it intellectually rather than emotionally. All this rationalizing is killing me. It doesn't make any sense.

But who said love made sense? But I feel like I'm ready to move on.

And how many times have I said that? I ain't fooling anyone. But maybe, I can allow myself to be enveloped by the illusion and end up believing it. And then it can become true.

That's one way of letting go...

When people have their own really accomplished lives, they don't put you on a pedestal. If anything, you have to prove yourself even more because they think you're that stupid actress who, like, floats around in her Prada dress, you know? -- Natalie Portman (Vogue, May 2002)

All it takes is to be with great friends who trust you and respect you and whom you trust and respect to help put everything in perspective. They don't even have to know what you are going through; just being around them makes you realize that the world is not as horrible a place as you think it is.

And don't forget to dance. Dancing solves any problems.

Letting go is really hard to do. Sometimes, and it may be selfish, but you feel like you have to force people to tell you things you already know. And sometimes, they won't oblige you. No one is responsible for how you feel. They don't owe you anything. And in the end, it really becomes something you have to deal with for yourself. And if you won't, you won't heal.

I'm am falling more and more in love with the medium of film. I believe it is a great way of looking at the world. I feel that this is where I will really be able to make my mark. This is something that I really want to do, for myself, for what is going on inside of me.

I watched Pieces of April and found myself crying for an hour. It is a gorgeous, gorgeous film. Very powerful. It would be sad if it were not so real; and in being real it is so funny. Watch it!

I love my Dad. Everytime we talk, I feel like I'm learning from the world. His being here in the city, working again at something that he is really, really good at, calms me. It makes me feel better. It is almost as if I am borrowing his energy, adapting it into my own and I can do it from a distance (as long as we are in the same city). When he is in Bacolod, I could feel the distance and reaching out to him was so hard. Knowing he is here, within my sphere of reference, I could reach out to his aura and copy it, take it for my own.

I'm glad that he is here.

The process of healing, I hope, has finally begun. This distorted world will finally start to coalesce. If only because I have decided to really look and see what it is the signs are saying. This time I will not let myself get lot. The grieving is over. We are only allowed to grieve for so long...

I thought that freedom
Can only be defined as endless choice
And I only listen to the logic of the loudest voice

But this world will be shaken by a whisper...
-- Whisper by Slovo

Downspin time... Feel myself losing balance and doing crazy things. I am racked by the pains of loss and the ravaged by the thoughts of "could've beens, should've beens and would've beens" and this is not where I want to be.

I have always said that my mood, my temperament was seasonal. I am in a great mood for several months and then I lose it all and stay depressed, down in the dumps, for another set of months. It's back and forth, it's like a cycle. I have no control of this. It just happens. I just start to feel so much. I get bogged down by the world around me.

Money has been held back... again. I find myself penny-less yet I still work as hard as I always have. I find myself longing for people who never really cared as much; for people who didn't even really try.

I hate this feeling when I count the blessings I have been given (which are a lot) and still find myself wanting more; even just a little bit more. Marianne Moore said that contentment was such a lowly thing and that joy was a pure thing and I hardly feel pure but I still feel I am worth it. I deserve a little...

But this world will be shaken by a whisper
(and I will live with integrity and peace inside...)
But this world will be shaken by a whisper
(and I will live with all honesty and peace inside...)
-- Whisper by Slovo

And as much as I want to lash out and get mad; as much as I want to turn evil and bitter and jaded; as much as I want to blame people and things, blame the way I live my life and try to change and become someone tougher, colder, harder -- I find myself incapable of doing so. I retreat into the comfort of friends, write songs and continue to just dwell on things (something I shouldn't do). I find myself retreating into the comfort of solitude, my personal space and just listening to music.

My fantasies, as of late, have been angry and bitter. I can feel myself seeking revenge. I want my say. I want to have the final word. But like I told a friend, there is no real need to do so. It only makes things worse, really. Having your say, telling the person you are hurt, that things could have been handled differently is just another ploy to try to make the other feel bad; to make the other think about the decisions that was made and maybe try to sway them to make the decision you want them to make (which is to chose you). But if they didn't make that decision then, what makes this last effort change anything?

You end up realising that no matter what you do; you were never really the choice. You are to be passed over anyway.

My best friend told me that maybe it is time to start looking into ourselves into figuring out why we can't seem to get the person we want. He agrees with me that it is not our problem, it is not our fault. But maybe, there is something wrong with the choices that we make and the process in which we go about things.

Maybe I should stop chasing after the complicated ones. Fine, I can't choose who I fall in love with, but maybe I should just let them go. Let them be.

It seems that time returns to me once more
But I have less now than before
-- Whisper by Slovo

Yet, in these sad times (for me), I find myself writing two songs in a span of two hours. Good songs, if I may say so. A rock song inspired from listening to a lot of Alex Parks, it's called "Unanswered." There is a line there were I ask: "If love is worth it, why does one just sit, and not meet half-way from the start?"

And then, listening to a lot of chill-out songs from the Hed Kandi Winterchill album, beautiful songs like Whisper by Slovo or Pedro by Dahlia made me write "This Is the Day." Thinking of my friends, thinking of the times we had and enjoyed, I wrote the song celebrating my love for them and the time that we spend together. The positive energy that I get being with them. Of all the songs I've written (17 already) this is the song I want to put music to first...

And then someone long gone comes back. I don't know if this person is the one and that we just have to go through a lot of hurdles, earn an immeasurable amount of trust before we can take it another step but somehow, despite the lack of promise for anything more than what we have, I take the next step forward. I dare to hope.

Believe, my best friend tells me. It is the only power we've got and it would be such a waste if we let them take it from us he tells me. Thinking about it, I never really stopped believing. I never stopped hoping. I think that is why it hurts so much. Because I can never let go of the fact that it will happen. It will happen because I refuse to let it go.

And so I trudge on. And I fight. And I believe and hope. I dare to hope. I dare to believe. I will not let go of the power.

You really made me listen for my own voice
And I heard millions

But when I feel my world falling down
I think of you, I think of you
And when I feel I can breathe no more
You speak to me, you speak to me
-- Whisper by Slovo

I will not let go of love. Read the story of Tam-Lin, the Russian fairy tale. His lover would not let him go, as he was turned to snake, wolf, bear, fire and other dangerous stuff. And what happens? She keeps him. Her love proved stronger than the faerie queen's. It is love that will bring this world to its knees.

What is that that is whispered that will shake this world? In the song, they do not say what it is. I think I know. I think you do too...

I'm like a bird
I always fly away
I don't know where my heart is
I don't know where my home is
-- I'm Like a Bird, written and performed by Nelly Furtado

I don't want to be Mr. Nice Guy anymore. I want to be some son-of-a-bitch bastard who doesn't give a damn about other people's feelings. I don't want to put love on such a pedestal and make it seem like there is nothing more important. I'm getting tired of this whole "nice guys finish last" bullshit.

I try so hard to be honest and you know what? People don't give a damn and they don't want to return the favour. You become honest and truthful and you know what I discover? People actually take it against you. They actually get mad. They get defensive. They feel alienated and they reel away from you. Some get angry and lash out.

Honesty is something most people are not used to. They actually are so not used to it that they have violent reactions. The more they tend to lie to you.

I hate all this political correctness, courtesy and "polite-ness" bullshit. Just give me the hard, cold, honest truth. I can respect you more for it.

I am sorry if I seem friendly one moment and bitchy and cold the next. I am only being true to myself and I can't be Mr. Happy Sunshine all the time! And yet I always try to be honest yet tactful -- try to take care of people's feelings and go the extra mile for some people.

I don't feel like I can handle anymore.

I really want to give up the whole Mr. Nice Guy shit... I'm thinking of writing an Asshole's Manifesto. If I ever get to write it and finish it... I'll put it up here.

I'm just a little tired and for me, that means a lot because I never run out...

I am 32 flavours and then some... -- 32 Flavours, written and performed by Alana Davis

Everything was moving so fast yesterday, it was too strange. I was standing still and everything around me was just moving. Moving quickly. I wanted to fall over. But I couldn't move, my whole body was shaking in the thrill. I was able to traverse space in a quick second. All I had to do was think and I had moved, I was there. Is this what they call the fast life? He He He

Somehow I don't think so.

If we are not afraid to try; if we are willing to lose everything in a risk and it turns out you had a winning hand, sometimes, it's the best feeling in the world. And when I mean risk everything, sometimes, I also mean your life. The opportunity to lose everything in the world. It's a dangerous game, and you shouldn't push your luck so often.

But the rules in this world seem to keep changing. Sometimes I don't know if there is anything that can be guaranteed. Actually, there are none. You just go and do it and see where all the cards fall at the end of the game.

All I know is that I took a risk and had great fun. I celebrated with a night of wild dancing and getting drunk in Halo with friends. And I looked great dancing. Someone said, "Wanggo, you know? You are absolutely attractive when you are not self-conscious."

Isn't everybody? And when I'm dancing, I totally am so un-self-conscious. I just lose myself to the rhythm and the beat. I am the bass line. But we all know this. I talk about it constantly.

What immortal hand or eye
Can frame thy immortal symmetry?
-- Tiger by William Blake

I find myself lethargic these days. I can sleep for hours, longer than necessary. The fire is going out; I can feel it. I desperately look for companionship. I need someone to bounce ideas off always. Without articulation and expression, I find myself losing steam. I am slowly losing my glow.

As I told my bestfriend jus recently: I need to get burned.

Where is the fire? Where is the heat? This city is filled with walking stars, walking suns. They are no where near me. The little stars that have burned me have begun to walk away. I have not heard from The Spaceman in almost 2 weeks. The Spearmint has become busy with life. I desperately need the spotlight.

I am losing drive, will and fuel. Do I need to dance again so soon? Why is everything moving so slowly? Where is the money that is owed to me? Why am I working so hard and have nothing to show for? Where is the fire?

I want to get burned. Where is the ice? I want to grasp it and hold it tightly. Ice, when held is hot to the touch. The strange rational: it is so cold, it burns.

I am water. I have always been water but I need to boil.

Where is my fire? I need to burn.

Brother and sister, together we'll make it through
Someday a spirit will lift you and take you there
I know you've been hurting but I'll be there waiting to be there for you
And I'll be there just helping you out whenever I can `cuz..

Everybody's free to feel good...
-- Everybody's Free, Aquagen

Somethings you should always remember: just because you love someone doesn't mean that they love you.

That just because two people love each other very much doesn't mean they have all the opportunities to spend time with each other.

That no matter how honest you are to people; they will not always be honest to you. In this regard, people are not likely to return the favour.

That people need time for themselves. And that in these moments of solitude, no matter how important they are to you and how important you are to them; there is nothing really you could do. If they have to be alone, then give them that space.

I will die without music.

I don't know. Money, all of a sudden has been stemmed. It is out there and I can't seem to reach it. I want to get it but it ain't coming. All of a sudden, some people just don't want to pay on time and I am caught in the cross fire without any money to have my laundry done. How sad!

Feast then famine then feast again. The natural cycle of life.

I've returned to the quitter's fold. Another attempt at quitting smoking. Let's see how long I will fare this time. This time nobody will return me to their fold. I will hold on for as long as I can. I only returned to smoking because of The Spaceman. And look how that turned out.

Why is it so important to me? Why is being with someone so important to me? I wish I could just let go and just focus on what I can do for myself. Just really be truly comfortable in my own skin. I mean, I usually am... I can watch movies alone, stay at home alone for hours, just read or go walking around the mall without company. I am comfortable in my own skin but why do I still look for someone's constant companionship?

It really is strange to me. For someone who was raised to be so independent, not be able to revel in his own independence.

I wonder if people still get hanged for stupidity. I think I am up for one...

But I know she'll be all right,
If he could shut up tonight,
And just hold her tight.
-- Hold Her Tonight, Performed by Titiyo (written by Peter Svensson and Joakim Berg)

And just like that, it is over. Another sad love story turns its last page. The simple version? I guess I wasn't what my love was looking for. I don't know what is being looked for; but it ain't me.

I refuse to stop moving on over this. I will keep moving, keep on going. I am bitter, angry and hurt. But I refuse to be devastated. I keep on.

And surprising, an old chapter of my life has re-opened. Sweetness and affections are pouring out towards me and I don't really know how to respond exactly. I play my usual flirtatious games. The other responds with awkwardness. I feel there is something here that is unexplored, if not resurfacing. Maybe some things are not yet over. Maybe some doors close as others open, but they are not locked and can open again for better results...

I work and I work and I find myself without funds to continue my life. I think I can manage the next rent, but wonder how I'll make it through the following. Projects are coming in but the payment of all the work is too slow. I feel I deserve better than this but I am pretty much just starting out. But that isn't true, either... I have a resume most people would die for. I am no newbie and I've got a lot of things to offer.

I have more work experience and versatility than people older than me. Maybe I shouldn't be so lax in chasing after checks.

I have lost my best friend to something that has no name. I'm not sure if it is stress or over-work or if he is sick of me and hanging out with me. Paranoia strikes me cold and hard. Should I give him space or should I pursue a more nurturing and caring approach? I have lost him and have been talking to a common friend more often, finding solace with him. And honestly, it makes me feel bad. Not for anything but because I just feel that my best friend should be the first person to know these things in my life.

To the Spaceman: you blew it, buster! My friends are right that I have no real right to be so pissed but you should not have said somethings and made me believe what is until proven otherwise, untrue. I fell hard. But you know what? I know my love was true and that I gave it my all. If you did not want it then you don't deserve it. You told our friend that I was "too good for you." You know what I say? Good thing you know. You saved me from possibly making a mistake. Yeah, I'm bitter and angry that I am not the one, considering the fact that everything about me was "perfect" or so you said. Well, it's over. Go and play your foolish games with other people. I don't play with little children. I'd rather be with someone who knows what they want.

I am so angry because it really mattered to me. And it hurts to have to be, time and time again, not the person that they want. You think of all the things that you could do for them and wonder why it ain't enough. It hurts, that's all. It won't kill me. But it still hurts like hell...

Maybe this time
For the first time
Maybe this time
I'll win
-- Maybe This Time, From Cabaret (music by John Kander and words by Fred Ebb)

Busy is good. Busy is always good. I am swamped with work and it means very little time in-between to think of things that are inconsequential. Things that do not matter in the larger scheme of things.

Someone just asked me to do the cover design of his book. It is a wonderful request considering the fact that I am no visual artist. I know what works and what does not. I would like to believe that I have pretty good taste in what is good art and bad art. After all, I did teach Art Appreciation before. I had to do immense research before just to be able to feel comfortable in teaching the class. I had read the essays of Jeanette Winterson on art (the book is called Art Objects, read it! It is a must!) and have read enough books on the aesthetics of poetry and creative writing to know that all art follow similar rules. It is easy to transpose the rules of harmony in words to the rules of harmony in design.

But does that make me qualified to design a book cover? Maybe. I will read the book, and figure out a strong visual that could capture the entirety of the book's theme. Try to capture what it is the book is trying to tell its readers. I do not have to execute it myself; I know many capable artists who can do so. I just have to share with them my vision.

In that sense, I once again step into the shoes of a director.

It is becoming inevitable. I am going to become like my father. And that thrills me and frightens me at the same time. What large and heavy shoes I have to fill! I spent many, many years hiding from his shadow, running away from it, denying it only to discover in my early twenties that there is nothing else I want to do than to take it on, grab the bull by the horns and mount the black stallion and ride into the horizon carrying his torch.

If I succeed. It will be bliss.

A funny story: when I was still a staff member of the Malate Literary Folio, the official literary folio of De La Salle University, ran and written by the students of De La Salle University; I was picked out to be one of the possible future editors of the publication. The Editor-in-Chief at the time, a great man and writer, Harold, sat me down and asked me to help him lay-out the next issue of the Malate. I was excited. So he started teaching me how to use the computer application we used to lay-out the issue. He then asked me to start lay-outing the story on my own. So I was putting the words in, choosing the font, fixing the page numbers and choosing where the art work will be.

I showed him my design for four pages of story lay-out. Harold was looking at my draft with his hand covering his mouth. He then said: "Wanggo, you just broke 7 of the 9 rules of design!"

My response? "There are rules for book design?"

By the end of the year, my friend Rex became Editor-in-Chief, my friend Chrissie was appointed Associate Editor and I was made Managing Editor. The Managing Editor was responsible for all issue related matters - budget, office equipment, lay-outing and distribution of the folio. I think I was the only Managing Editor that never did the lay-out of an issue of Malate, ever. Chrissie handled it and I was in-charge of some writing workshops and all the budget issues; because people thought I did a good job with it.

It was hilarious, really. Later on, slowly, I learned there was a lot to learn about book design. But then again, that's another story, really...

In my life I have found that all prayers are answered. And the answer is usually "no." -- as texted to me by my father

I am sick again. Third time this year. My body is truly deteriorating. I used to be the guy who would get sick only once a year. Now, this is my third time to get sick in one year alone and the year isn't even over yet. Welcome to the human race, Wanggo. At least I am still a fast healer.

I wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that I am living alone? I mean, after all, without the comforts of home and without the constant affection and love from my dear Yaya Ope (my Mom's cook) and Yaya Nellie (my Mom's laundry woman) and the incessesant-bordering-on-annoying love of my brother Datu, I may have become weaker. It might be possible that without those particular influences in my life, my body is running on less fuel.

Is love really that powerful? Without their constant care and tenderness, my body has become more prone to sickness and exhaustion? I have always been a hard worker (or so I would like to believe) but because they are not there to pamper me and to watch out for me, my body breaks down a little more often.

But then again, my friends have sorta-kinda taken their place. Constant text messages wondering if I am okay and asking if I'm good has replaced the watching over of the two beautiful ladies and my brother. But then again, they are not always physically present as Yaya Ope, Yaya Nellie and my brother have been when I lived with my Mom.

Maybe there is something to that. I must dig deeper into it.

Once again, more and more projects seem to loom over in the horizon. Busy, busy, busy me. It is something that never seems to stray. I'm most glad for it. It is something I had never seemed to ask for. My work has always been there for me through thick and thin.

Ah! But once again, the boring, hackneyed and over-used (and tired) subject of love is what I will be talking about here. For as much as I never seem to have a need to ask for work I seem to constantly need to ask for love.

I am in the process of waiting. Waiting. Waiting is very tiring. There are days when I just want to give up and forget it ever happened. The one week when everything was wonderful and magickal. I want to erase it from my mind. And then, there are days when I just hope that everything will be okay with that person and that that person will send the love I am waiting for back to me. At least, I have stopped asking the stupid questions. But the next set of questions: "When? When? When?" I cannot stop from asking.

When? Are we not allowed to feel complete? *sigh*

At least I have my work...