Thinking Bell

It's almost 2 in the morning. I'm back here blogging. Or thinking. Or putting up in public what I think/thoughts. It might help lift the heaving things I've been thinking.

You know what I'm thinking lately? Past dreams. Not the dreams that we encounter while sleeping. The dreams we plan for. Or looking forward to. The things that kept you going. The drive, some say. It pops every time I take a leak or dropping a shit. It also comes out when I'm on a bus or a traffic-long ride home or to somewhere. I also think about these thoughts whenever I'm alone at work.

Lately, at a mall, I thought about the time before that establishment closes. I wonder how it was when a mall so crowded and noisy, becomes slowly quiet as the closing time comes up. Imagine this: you're standing in a corner where you see the vastness of the mall and the crowd walking in each other's different directions. Some goes left. Other goes right. Minding their own life. Each of them carrying something. Each of them going somewhere they were ought to go. And some of them just trying to go with the flow and never plans on where or which shop or restaurant to stop. Too many choices. Malls giving us what it is supposed to do: Giving us many choices.

As the time goes by and most are leaving, a few lights goes out. The noise slowly, patiently lifts away. The noise seems like a thing of the past. It left after the last person's footsteps goes away to the nearest exit. As the railings of the door shuts down, all is left was the echoes of what has happened that day and the remaining cold from the last Freon from a nearby air conditioning. And then a deafening silence.

Just In Case...

Beloved,

I love you. I wish I said that to you a few months back. I'm sorry for this delay of words. I was busy putting those words into action; a commitment. When I sought Him, He made me sought you. I'm a changed man because of Him while you bring out the brightest side of me. We've been friends for almost a decade now. And we have a solid foundation through our faith. Faith and friendship. These two things are much more the reason why I should commit to you. The reasons I should not give up on you.

These things, it doesn't happen overnight. It took a lot of pondering, realizations and prayers to get me in to what I have become or felt for you now. I realized that we both been there for each other, through thick and thin and through the important moments and the unimportant ones. There's just too many to mention. I know you have poor memory but someday you will realize these things as well.

I admit I'm not the man of your dreams. I'm not handsome or well off. And yet every exhale I make each day, I prayed to be the man that you deserve. Just the man that you deserve.

I love you. A love different from the sappy, pathetic romantic flicks that Hollywood could offer. This love is borne out from faith, hope, kindness, patience, respect and of a decade of trust and friendship. You may feel betrayed and offended by what I have revealed to you. But this is me in all honesty. Stripped naked by all the drama and wrong doings. All I'm asking is that you'll give "us" a chance. A faithful chance. Because for what it's worth, all the things we have learned from church will be a waste of everything that we put faith on... Hope.

I told this for the whole world to hear because the world believes that falling in love with your closest/best friend is the most stupid thing a guy could do. That people should fall for the right person or strangers or blah blah blah. Stereotypes. In my case, I'm different. And I don't give a damn if I am. To me, you're not just the right girl. You're the ONLY girl worth falling for. Worth committing with.

Much Love,

Feline Lessons

Vodka, my cat for a year and a half now, has gone missing for a week. I tried to look for him in hopes that he will come back. Prior to this, he perpetrated to go up to my room and wake me up. That day, turned out to be an important day. Without him, I was doomed to be late for a meet up. I shooed him, twice, to go off the room. He obliged but with a few meows here and there, just to remind me that I have to buy him food when I get back later from the meet up. I did. He only ate once. After that, my father took him out. This is common knowledge that Vodka would beg my pop to get him out to hunt for female cats. Vodka never returned. I never even thanked him that day when he went up stairs to wake me up.

I can't help but to look back when I saw them(he and his brother Kahlua) as kittens small as a child's foot. I gave them milk and set them up a Balikbayan Box for their warm bed. When Kahlua died a few months after, Vodka contracted some sort of flu. This is a fatal thing for cats as I recalled. Vodka almost died. I cried for mercy and prayed every night for his survival. Awa ng Diyos, milagro ang pagka galing niya. First lesson I learned from Vodka was hope.

He went on as a normal cat but I was reluctant to let him out of his comfort zone due to safety issues, etc. Hence, I made him stay inside from the four corners of our home since then. Second lesson: Make room for change. Accept it.

He matured well and willing to take all necessary means to go out of the house. I remembered my teenage self out of him. Gumagawa talaga ako ng paraan para lang makatakas sa loob ng bahay at para may mapuntahan lang. Most of my lame excuses are birthdays, projects, girls, band practices, etc. Don't get me wrong, though. These excuses, more than half of them were true to the bone. Third lesson: Let it be/let cats be cats.

I remembered the time I spent a few hours with him in our back door in which our wash room was located. He stared at me, while I caress his head. I contemplated much about his dependence in me and his purpose in my life. After minutes of pondering, besides being my favorite pet, I figured he's some sort of a symbol for me. Like he's some sort of a reflection of what I do to people closest to me. Yeah, I'm caring, I'm generous. But the one thing I noticed was that he was a big representation of dependency; I like people to depend on me. That I, in return, would depend on them. I hold those thoughts or events that someone would make, or regard me as their hero, their provider or a person to look forward to. Kaya pala minsan, kapag may mga por favor ang mga taong mahahalaga sa akin, ang hirap kong tanggihan. Fourth lesson: Be quipped to say no sometimes. Be less of a hero.

As a person, I grasp every opportunity to hold on to those things that means a lot to me. Lalo na sa usapang relationships. Para bagang, meron akong separation anxiety sa mga bagay na nag uugnay sa akin at sa aking ka relasiyon. It makes me sane most of the time. But it doesn't make me practical. I am too emotionally attached. I admit that I love words. My phone would attest to that. I keep text messages, photos, everything that I could re-read and re-capture are all amazing moment I felt with a girl. Call it cheesy or poetic. But this is I. Someday, someone would just have to live up to who I am and vice versa.

And yet, it seems like when I hold on to too much of something, I miss out most of what life could still offer.

My final lesson with Vodka was when he went I away:

I finally learned to let go. (whew!)

The less I keep, the more I could move on. After all, the baggage is lite and you could start putting things inside it again. Then carry on.

Bullies With Butterfly Wings

Since I haven't much time watching the news on TV, I've been reading articles and news through the internet's Yahoo! Philippines. After reading a few columns, I can't help but to say a few words on its comments section. I hesitate to put comments since one needs to sign-in your own yahoo account in order for me to make my comment visible. My hesitation got much stronger when I read a few comments below the article/column; these people are brutal. their minds are oozing with hatred and vileness. I'm so close on saying that their souls, if they still have it, are already rotten. If one doesn't have the hardened heart, you could be dead before you hit the "unlike" button. One could be affected too much that you might even TRY what they're suggesting at you.

Bullies.

I've been dealing with them for the past twenty years of my life. They ignite my struggling life up until now and fuels my own hatred to them. So much hate that even my high school classmates/batchmates I considered a bully back then, had no space in my Facebook list of friends, even if they sent me notifications, etc. No matter how time make these bullying memories fade, they still haunt me. Eating the very core of my individuality as a man. No. It wasn't fear that I felt. It was the lack of power. The power to fight physically due to the fact that I was raised within the confines of reasoning rather than physical abuse or barbarism. It's not that I can't throw a punch. But perhaps I was reasonable enough to choose not to fight because of so many underlying consequences. And handling consequences isn't my strong suit.

Today, bullies have emerged as much more destructive. Nay, in physical violence but rather in words. Yes, words.

I remember those people (young ones), for the past three years, in which they've been cyber bullied and judged poorly and inhumanely that it took them so much to fathom the veracity of the bullies' perception to them and thus took their own lives so that finally giving them the satisfaction that these bullies won and these bullies are right. That time, I misjudged these people as weak and stupid by taking their own lives. That perception I had for them changed when I experienced what they also experienced just recently:

In my defense, I was stating a sarcasm. But the person (Zorbak) took it literally.

At first, I was shocked. I kept on telling myself that I don't want to be affected by a silly response. But this person's words are so piercing, that even my shielded mentality and heart penetrates to the deepest. The sentence lingers to your broad mind, like a faded voice that keeps on repeating your name. I was hurt. Gan'un pala 'yun. Sa una, iindahin mo 'yung salita. Hanggang sa hindi mo na kaya. Have I welcomed this person's idea? I would be lying if I say I didn't. It crossed my mind, I tell you. But then again, the reasonable side of me spoke loudly: "What for?" And then I looked back my 29 years of existence: it was remarkable! I had no reason or heart to do what this person is strongly suggesting.

To you, Zorbak, or who ever you are. My judgment on you shall forever be hidden. Naniniwala ako sa Diyos. At nagtitiwala ako sa Kaniya. Kung ano man ang ihahatol niya sa'yo balang araw o sa mga dadating na araw, ipagdadasal ko pa rin ang kaluluwa mo. Kaawaan ka ng Diyos. You've thought me something indispensable in spite of your words.

--

Looking back again while I conclude this blog entry, I thought of the people who weren't strong to push these cyber bullies. Siguro, bago nila wakasan ang kanilang buhay naghahanap pa sila ng saklolo. Ng pag asa. Pag asa na may magsabi sa kanila na "huwag mong pansin sila. hindi totoo ang mga sinasabi nila sa'yo." No, not physical heroes that they're seeking for, but people who could give them the emotional power to overcome these bullies' claims and misjudgments.

Perhaps the Kryptonite for them bullies are, as simple as it may sound, also words, right? :)

Death of An Idea

As I wait for a jeepney ride bound to Quiapo along the not-so-crowded E. Rodriguez Avenue, I pondered a lot of things that presented to me in full detail. Its as if I opened a pop-up book all of a sudden. The stopping and forwarding of vehicles. The few seconds wait for that green light to go down from red. The blackest of smokes from the mufflers of a dilapidated PUJ. The look of the passengers as I was about to step inside and find a vacant (most of the times warm) seat. And when you look at them as well, they gaze upon another thing or person next before me as if they didn't see me. My careful breathing suggests calm. Or wonder.

I wore my fake Rayban Sunglasses because there was too much light out side. It was from the angry sun. Or was it from the shiny car's exteriors? I'm blaming both.

I wonder why women wearing skirts as high as their thighs could hug, still has the guts to ride a public vehicle. The worst part was when she sat opposite you. And when you accidentally looked down between their legs, that's the time they cover it with both of their hands and give you a shy and yet tantrum look. Its as if it was your fault why they have to wear such or why they need to tighten her belt and bear riding a public utility vehicle. I looked away. But I didn't pretend that I saw a black underwear rudely smiles at me. Should I apologize for the lack of my discreetness and having an observing male eyes? Should I make the sign of the cross and mock an Halleluia?
I'm no saint. Was it my male hormones? These things happen. Charge it to experience, then.

I walked the path to where I work, a catholic school passed me by. A few Commercial Banks are all around me. And the scorching sun reminds you to shield him/her with anything. I reflected on all the things I have observed and concluded that every detail, structure and living or moving thing that surrounds me has some story to tell. An idea. And this was the beginning of an idea of mine about dying ideas. Or the death of it. Much more questions arose when I thought about it. Like if an idea ends or dies, are we doomed to redundancy? Is it really possible? Is extinction of life means the end of ideas? Or ideas came before our existence?

I pushed the glass door and simultaneously, the bell that signifies someone just arrives or leaves the premises, rang in its discreet way. I head on to the kitchen and located my time card and wrote my arrival time. My penmanship sucks. I honestly wrote the time on my cellphone. Not the time on the wall, which was 15 minutes ahead from the standard time.

Time. Hmm.. now that's another idea I'd like to ponder about.

I conclude that it may seem impossible to have a requiem for ideas. It looks endless. The death of an idea itself is already an idea.

The Six Stages of Praying

The following are products of my uncontrolled eavesdropping.

Childhood: Laruan

Teenagers: Boypren/Girlpren/Relasiyon

Adolescence: Makatapos ng pag aaral

Young Adults: Pera/Asawa/Trabaho

Adulthood to Middle Age: Younger Boypren/Girlpren

Oldies: Sa lalake: Erection, Babae: Pagmamahal nung tulad ng dati.

I don't know what I'm about to say but I'll say it, nonetheless

E = mc2

Nakaka gago minsan ang mga pagkakataon na i-prinepresenta sa atin araw-araw.

We began in simplicity, like anything normal and random. We continued the journey. With high and lows and the occasional shouts, and misconstrued things. When things are finally going to end, or must end, we couldn't even think of a graceful exit but, in any case, we had a simple ending. One ending that tends to implore pain and misery. I guess most endings are meant to be that way. It so happened we were on that category.

The suckiest part was the moment when we placed down the receiver and thoughts of uttering a simple sigh of relief. Was it really a sigh of relief or regret? I wished it was the latter. Today, I now find a courage to fare you well in eight crucial words: You've become someone that I used to know.

Well, who knows.