the cubicle..

and just as the movie is about to get to the good part, it had to happen.

i immediately left my seat and went towards the comfort room located at the farthest left of the movie theatre. it was only then when i noticed that there were only atleast a handful of people scattered through out the seats inside. makes sense since this is an outdated movie. my friend had to drag me into watching it since i'm not interested with such flicks. and because i underestimated it, it turned out to be a cool one. maybe that's the secret on how to be happy in life, lowered expectations. haha. and just as the movie is about to get to the good part, it had to happen. i dashed towards the door, went towards the nearest urinal, unzipped, flooded the ceramics with my piss.

good thing that the movie or should i say the audio of the movie is being played thru that speaker mounted on the ceiling.

i turned my ears to hypersensitive mode so that i could atleast absorb the essence of the movie without the visuals. as i try my hardest to familiarize myself with the characters through the voices coming from that speaker, i noticed,

a mysterious sound.

what is that sound?

amidst the dialogues and the explosions heard from the speaker, there is this sound. and i'm sure it's not from the movie.

i zipped and went towards the sink to wash my hands. the sensor driven faucets didn't produce a splashing sound but more of a gentle, flowy sound so it didn't disrupt my focus on that mysterious sound.

knowing the skeptic in me, i just knew it was not something supernatural. but could it be?

it's not a long sound, more of a continuing sound.

it seems familiar but i can't seem to put my finger on it.

it sounded like a piece or maybe pieces of metal rubbing againt a particular material. paper? cloth? i'm not sure.

it had to be metal and what instantly registered on my mind was the kind of sound that comes from a wind chime. duh? there are no wind or chimes in the bathroom so i guess that's not it.

i seriously focused my sense of hearing to that sound even more. the quality of the sound is low and follows a certain beat.

ching, ching, ching, ching...

i scanned the area and yes, just as i thought when i first entered, i was alone. or am i?

then, suddenly, i noticed the sound is getting louder.

ching, ching, ching, ching....

i kept my focus and tried my best to trace where it is coming from.

i walked slowly, with my right ear pointing to the direction of the sound and as i do, i noticed that it doesn't only grow louder but the beat went faster.

ching, ching, ching, ching....

i am now standing infront of the 3 cubicles in the immediate left of the sink. my interest in the movie evaporated into thin air because the urge to know what that sound is is much more exciting than intergalactic space travel of some sort.

conviced that the answer is inside one of those cubicle, i've decided to give it a go and give in to the curiousity. and as i was just about to lift my feet for that glorious first step towards the truth, the sound stopped.

then cubicle no. 3 opened. the one on the farthest left.

a figure started to reveal itself as the door opens outwards

a guy. wearing a white polo and white pants.

across his shoulder are black rectangular things with stars on them.

he was zipping his fly.

he was too focused on his fly, he didn't even notice that i was looking at him.

then he slid his right arm on his pocket.

and there it is again, the mysterious sound. that isn't so mysterious anymore.

ching ching....

he grabbed some keys.

then, the guy finally acknowledged my presence by looking at me as well.

and in a split second, he looked away and bowed down.

then, another figure emerged from the same cubicle that the guy in white was in a minute ago.

a man.

in his i think late 30's or early 40's.

wiping his mouth with a piece of tissue.

2 guys in 1 cubicle.

inside women's comfort room.

an outdated movie.

that mysterious sound. following its own beat that started slow, then fast, then faster.

i get the picture already.

how could i be so naive.


i literally sprinted out of that room, went back to my seat and had a good laugh about it.

and so did my mom.

it reminds me of some friends.. lol

..because im grateful.

"Life is a continuous struggle but it doesn't matter whether we win or lose because real victory lies in not giving up. Although we fight the battle alone, there are those on the sidelines who give us the boost we need to keep going. So to the instruments of my triumphs, I'm forever grateful."
~te ivy, my sister's best friend.


There are moments when you want for some things to end. Times when it's too painful to continue holding on. Times when you find your precious sanity on a precarious balance and all you're left of is an offer to disappear and leave without a trace.

But there are people in your life who willingly brave the waves and punches with you. Who cup your hands in theirs, clasp them tight and murmur that they refuse to allow the coward that is you to give up and let go. Who buoy you back to your faith, your happiness, your dreams, your heart -- and to yourself.

There are people in my life who, in the past years, have unselfishly tucked my shirt and combed my hair for me. A process I would have gotten tired of myself, if I were in their shoes. But this faithful number, they remained and reminded me of what I (still) am worth (of). I wish to acknowledge them but words (of description and gratitude) evade me at this moment. What I do have, though, is the conviction that I can put up with anything the world would hurl at me as long as I have them around.

To my parents, to my best friend philip, to my sister and to myself. thank you. =p

paulo coelho's closing cycles

*someone has to read this,yes! YOU*

One always has to know when a stage comes to an end.

If we insist on staying longer than the necessary time, we lose the happiness and the meaning of the other stages we have to go through.

Closing cycles, shutting doors, ending chapters - whatever name we give it, what matters is to leave in the past the moments of life that have finished.

Did you lose your job? Has a loving relationship come to an end? Did you leave your parents’ house? Gone to leave abroad? Has a long-lasting friendship ended all of a sudden? You can spend a long time wondering why this has happened. You can tell yourself you won’t take another step until you find out why certain things that were so important and so solid in your life have turned into dust, just like that.

But such an attitude will be awfully stressing for everyone involved: your parents, your husband or wife, your friends, your children, your sister, everyone will be finishing chapters, turning over new leaves, getting on with life, and they will all feel bad seeing you at a stand- still. None of us can be in the present and the past at the same time, not even when we try to understand the things that happen to us.

What has passed will not return: we cannot forever be children, late adolescents, sons that feel guilt or rancor towards our parents, lovers who day and night relive an affair with someone who has gone away and has not the least intention of coming back. Things pass, and the best we can do is to let them really go away.

That is why it is so important (however painful in maybe!) to destroy souvenirs, move, give lots of things away to orphanages, sell or donate the books you have at home. Everything in this visible world is a manifestation of the invisible world, of what is going on in our hearts- and getting rid of certain memories also means making some room for other memories to take their place.

Let things go. Release them. Detached your self from them. Nobody plays this life with marked cards, so sometimes we win and sometimes we lose. Do not expect anything in return, do not expect your efforts to be appreciated, your genius to be discovered, you love to be understood. Stop turning on your emotional television to watch the same program over and over again, the one that shows how much you suffered from a certain loss; that is only poisoning you, nothing else.

Nothing is more dangerous that not accepting love relationships that are broken off, work that is promised but there is no starting date, decisions that are always put off waiting for the “ ideal moment.”

Before a new chapter is begun, the old one has to be finished: tell yourself that what has passed will never come back. Remember that there was a time when you could live without that thing or that person - nothing is irreplaceable, a habit is not a need. This may sound obvious, it may even be difficult, but it is very important.

Closing cycles. Not because of pride, incapacity or arrogance, but simply because that no longer fits you life. Shut the door, change the record, clean the house, shake off the dust. Stop being who you were and change into who you are.



From my favorite author sent to me by my sister via email.

pissed. tsk.

I seldom get infuriated. I may not be blessed with the patience of a preschool teacher but I believe that I'm a fairly tolerant and reasonable person. But there are really circumstances that push my buttons. Not the good buttons, mind you. Thus, I sometimes end up saying things, hurtful things, to those who have dared triggered it. Don't get me wrong, it takes a lot to get me really angry.oftentimes, i just don't mind!But when I get mad, don't expect me to hold back and stay cordial. The most you can get from me is subtle sarcasm unless you're obviously, unbelievably thick and do a repeat.

I am not sorry for what I did. My reactions were really well-grounded. It is hard to be kind to people whom you know harbors bad blood to you for the most absurd reasons.

Too bad, they won't get to see that I can be sweeter than honey.


and to all the nurses assigned at ER, Mercy Hospital. Die, bitches!

almost lovers. =)

Your smile greeted me as I stepped out of the house. It was warm, radiant and contagious. You had me grinning as I made my way towards you. Your eyes never left mine as I closed in. You reached for my hand as we walked along the street. We laughed and talked and laughed some more; all the while stealing glimpses from one another like we were so into each other. It really felt that way. Other people smiled approvingly as they saw us together. It's not everyday you see these things, right? I think you noticed them staring as well because you pressed your hand tighter on mine and flashed me a smile. Cute.

There was something different in you that I can't put a finger on. But I'm not complaining. Not when even for that brief moment, you've made me feel so... special. It's nothing that I've ever felt before. Cliche, I know but it's true.

And then it had to rain.

"uli na ta tsik"

a bud frozen in the snow for a long, Perhaps its spring has come.

She slipped downstairs, tiptoeing on all fourteen marble tiles, until that varnished wooden door is within reach. She held its brass knob and pulled it, stepped out, bare foot, hair all messed up; she walked slowly along the roughly-cemented hall, wary of the sound that her heels make as it falls repeatedly against the grit. Eight, nine, ten strides it took to reach the door way. But before she walked in, she paused. She was hesitant.

The mirror was the first thing she saw upon stepping inside. It hung before her, the mirror that was big enough to cover the entire length of the wall, frame less, its age visible on some parts, stained and damaged, perhaps forgotten to be cared for.

She saw himself approaching it with dread – a ghostly shroud barely visible against the pitch black that envelops everything; everything but her eyes which seem to catch a faint stream of light from somewhere; everything but her eyes which seem to call forth a faint echo:

Seems so long ago that I used to believe, and now I’m so lost, just so lost inside my head; and I can't get out of it.

It was a sudden dawning; for memories tend to get buried, and the mind, too crowded and dusty from the accumulated rubble, piled up, as days flow into years. Yes, minds rot and decay much like souls and hearts. Hearts forget. Hearts, indeed, get distracted.

And she snapped out of her stance, reached out to the one who stood before her, and then made her way back; out into the cemented hall where her bare feet crunched the earth, and inside the wooden door with the brass knob, and up the staircase, into her bed.

In the course, she realized that she needed not a glimpse of what might be, for it has always been about remembering what once were. She saw what needs to be done.

It will take a while to collect all the fragments of the woman (?) she once knew; but tomorrow she shall start getting her back.

"Sige, go ahead, kill yourself. And I hope you go to hell too. On top of that, ang baba naman ng EQ mo. Wala kang kuwenta. Sana hindi ka nalang nabuhay.”


That is the most daring thing someone has ever told me in response to one of my infrequent psychotic episodes. Brave words from a man who does not even have the slightest clue on how my life has been in the last couple of years.
Woi, you got me there ha. You bought yourself time with that. Why do you always know what to say?
Yes, I have contemplated suicide. That I won’t deny.

But deciding to die isn’t just defined by the acts of slashing one’s wrists or drugging one’s self to infinite slumber or jumping off some bridge; it's a personal choice of a man to save himself from himself.
Suicide does not equal to self-destruction. Not necessarily, in my twisted opinion anyway. Yet it is an option only among the foolish, the reckless, the weak, the self-serving. And it is, no doubt, the utmost piece of chickening out.
I am foolish. I am reckless. I am weak. I am self-seving. Because I have chosen to die. I will. I simply must.


Killing who I am at this time is the only way I could think of to redeem what is left of the person I once was. The long buried me. The one I have always liked being. The one I wanted to forever be.

downpour

Maybe the reason why no one likes goodbyes is because they will always be sad.

Mine were, too. Because I'm always the one who's left behind. Because they pass by without a trace, leaving me clueless.

Because it rains when they happen.

Last night, I wept like I haven't shed a single tear before. The heavens joined me in my sorrow. Up until now, they continue to cry in buckets. But I no longer could.

I once believed in never bidding farewell. Ever. Yet, we have to. We just have to.

And since I did, I engraved every detail in memory. The morning route. The familiar but nameless faces. The silence. The warmth of a hand. The comfort of a shoulder. The aimless twist of a thumb. The songs in my iPod. The descent from the mountain to the city. The piercing stare. The sad smiles. The spoken truth. The open palms. The peace from within.

The freed butterfly.

The downpour.

I'll remember.

good things

Halfway through my fries and Coke float at noon today, my phone beeped. Checking it out, I suddenly had this feeling that I so badly wanted it to be someone. Only, it wasn’t him.

I know I’m missing him. I realized I may have talked to him, from time to time, exchange thoughts and gossips. And yet I STILL MISS HIM. It’s kinda funny when one would think about it. We both have each other’s mobile numbers, e-mail addresses, Friendster accounts and yet, not even once after long years had there been a mere "storya ta.mingaw ko nimo?” sent out.

But there were a lot actually.Yet I hate to think we both ignored it.

“Were they?”

I remember how we laughed heartily in between swapping stories of our previous stabs ,no holds barred living and recalling how sheer idiocy, childishness and insobriety stole reasoning and sanity from us during the crests, troughs and waves of our lives. I even remember how we tipsily agreed on which is the least evil of the three.

And I choose to remember that particular instance when he professed how much he appreciated him and me at that moment, and how I only smiled and showed the same understanding in a blush.

Maybe I’ve given what we had too much significance that I failed to actually preserved it right. I should probably hang myself for putting heavy doses of emotional attachment into everything and everyone I get tangled in and up with.

Reasons:
1.) Because I was stupid.
2.) Because I didn't know what I was doing.
3.) And there's the incredibly annoying fact that I love him. I cant draw the line though.. x.x

“Just how could something so good be so sad to think about?”

wee!

I'm happy.

Okay, well not entirely "happy" happy, but I guess that's probably the best way to put it.

Let me rephrase that.

I'm fine.

I never thought I'd be able to gather up all the courage to talk about something that I've been keeping to myself for a while. I mean, the last three weeks have been awfully strange for me. I've already reached the point when I don't seem to understand myself anymore. It's like I don't know why things just don't seem to fall into place lately. I am so lost.

But, really. I think I'm okay now. Maybe all I really needed was to just talk to someone -- or maybe to anyone for that matter -- just so I could understand myself better.

::: just shut up florence! shut up :::

Refresh me, form the memories i had in mind. refresh every inch of my nerves. Do me a favor, reassure me about it. Teach me how to talk, teach me how to fight, teach me how to be brave in showing myself. It helps me a lot when stones used to criticized me. But it hurts me a lot when those stones see me as someone who do not have a backbone, someone who's so lost in despair. That down... 6 feet under, beneath those black graves and evil shadows from the past. I know myself, i have my own identity but i just don't have the courage to love myself my shell or my scale, the color of my fur or the color of my feathers. I know what i like, i know my hobbies just please don't judge me!. There's a big difference when you tell me to find my identity and try to love myself, from try to love what i like and try to accept my imperfections. I'm not an iguana that rolls its eyes in a different angle nor a chameleon whose imitating anyone. I just don't like the idea of labeling me as someone who do not think but feel. Yes, i do give the idea of making anyone think I'm too available. That is why i always do fall into somewhere i don't wanna be. The point of getting hurt. The point of crying over someone who doesn't deserve my every drop. I am aware of that, that is why my outlet is to talk about it and not just to keep it inside in order for my air to rotate inside. Breathe, I'm just taking a break for something, and thats it. I don't usually talk about how i feel but this is my only way. Every time i get messy or sad that doesn't mean they occupied every inch of my sanity. I am still with my senses and i also do analyze things. But i just choose to feel it, just a time or a moment, a time to forget and delete it. Yes i do talk a lot about it just to calm me and make me at ease. One favor! please do not misjudge me!

finally!

Something extraordinary has happened.

Honestly.

I can hardly believe it.

A week ago something huge shifted into our world. It was literally overnight. I can pinpoint when it happened. I've been holding my breath since, but it has maintained for a week now. It's real. It's transforming my days and making them what I've been dreaming of. Arguments, stress, pain, exhaustion aside...I can almost dare to believe that it's real.

I'm going to tell you now, but let's not speak of it lest we jinx it. I'm going to tell you, and then we'll walk away from the secret for a while, until we're sure that it's real. Because if I'm dreaming and this new change disappears then I will very definitely need to be heavily medicated for the forseeable future, because I can't go back again. So we can't jinx it. Pretend we didn't even discuss it. Nothing to see here, move along.

So here's the secret to what's giving me hope beyond all hope, to what is beginning to make me feel like my whole entire journey has been worth it...

...After long and hellish weeks, I'm okay. I've forgiven myself.

coping up..

I fumbled through the dark and found a match.

The match led me to a candle.

The candle burned as I found a flashlight.

And then I kept walking and finally saw the end of the road, and at the end of the road, there was light.

I'm almost there.

and i'm glad to say this.. finally something has to end, and something should start all over again. =D

this is me once again, taking all the odds. You and me against the world imagery that is ! mwah!

bad day!

Sometimes, the world goes dark and all you can think is Oh my God. How am I going to get through this?

The light goes out with the flash of an exploding bulb. You look for hope, but there's no one with hope with you. You dread these days, for when they come they remind you of how hard everything can be, and these days are the type that you can't see the end to see if there will be light again.

This is one of those days.

It might even become one of those months.

get well soon shim, i miss you already.. =( tsk.tsk.tsk..

mothering.. =)

The completely fabulous Tita Arlene gave me this book called Mothering Without a Map, and it's one book that I constantly cheat on as I simply can't read it from cover to cover in one go. Not because it's tedious or boring or anything like that, but because the book produces extremely strong emotions and reactions in me. I worry I'll short-fuse if I read it all in one go, so I take it a bit at a time.

As the summary says:

her focus never waivers from what happens when the mother-daughter tie tears and the daughter is left without a role model.

My mother and I fell out. It's a shame and I wish sometimes we could talk more,laugh and cry more together! but I think that what I say is weighed and measured and shared during times of gossipy aggression. There are moments now that I understand what she meant or how she must have felt. But I don't want to be the same kind of mother she was.

In the distant past I think emotional stability was far from being the priority - kids were sheltered, fed, clothed, and anything beyond that was surplus. Sure, mums loved their babies. But in general it was necessary to be practical about emotions and meter out protection.

Later generations I think started to reckon that more was needed than that. Kids are no longer farm hands and resources. Kids are desperately wanted, yearned for, and something some people will walk through proverbial fire for (it reminds me of my . And as that role of children has changed, so have (I think) the emotional needs of children.

My therapist reiterated again and again the fact that I had a very unstable background. Constant moving was one thing, but of greater impact was the yo-yo relationship my family has, ie, my sister's status in her relationship, constant "paninira" thrown to our family just for the sake of ruining it..blah! blah!. Together, apart, together, apart - they seemed to be unable to decide what they wanted from each other. Combine that with my mother's personal view of family - strict loyalty and no boundaries and feelings that changed with the flip of a coin - and I was a basket case.

Unstable. Unstable. Unstable. It was unstable. I was unstable.

My great fear is that my children will turn out like me.

I think I'm a good one. I will love my kids and make sure they know it. Their every need should be meet. But my needs were met and look how I turned out. There's something above and beyond the basic needs, and I find myself determined to root out what that is, to keep my kids safe and happy and healthy. I've got their basics down and then some. I just want to catch whatever it is that made me fall through the net.

Reading this book is difficult. It's strange when you identify with other women, and you look back on your childhood and say Yes, I was fed and clothed and homed and loved. But that wasn't enough. You feel guilty for feeling that way. You feel selfish. You feel like you are a poshy shit taking the world for granted, that you should storm off in a huff because mommy and daddy bought you the blue Beemer, not the red one. All I ever wanted was a Ballerina Barbie in her pretty pink tutu. My birthday, I was 10 and do you know what they got me? Malibu Barbie. That's not what I wanted, that's not who I was. I was a ballerina. Graceful. Delicate. They had to go.

Maybe the truth is some of us grew up broken. We had some fundamental safety missing from our childhood. We were protected, but our protector could turn on us, too.

And the fight concluded last night.

"I love you" i said

"I love you too," she replied.

Not just mothering without a map, but loving without an atlas.

=| heart-stopping moment!

You know in the movies when the heroine is confronted by something truly horrifying? Like those slasher flicks where she throws open the closet door - because she was curious about the heavy breathing coming from her cashmere, presumably - and you have that heart-stopping second of pure adrenaline fear as you wait for the knife? And then you see it and your body gets dumped with chemicals as your brain tells you to jump and shriek?

I've had one of those yesterday! It was a a rainy afternoon, and the water pump was underneath a silver trash can lid. My tito lifted the lid.

There, curled around the pump, was the single biggest Bull snake that I had ever seen in my life. It raised its head at me.

And I screamed in tones that my throat had never before utilized.

It was one of those heart-stopping moments, where my body was flooded with adrenaline and I lost control of myself. I wasn't the only one. My tito was so shocked by the snake and my response that she wet herself.

Like I said - heart - stopping moment.

... last song syndrome! nosebleed man ko dhai! =p

Question: What's worse than an entire jeepney ride home with Kim Chiu's Crazy Love and Toni Gonzaga's Catch Me I'm Fallin' playing one after another?

Answer: Being seated next to someone who knows every damned word of both songs and singing along right near your ear.

Then getting off the blasted jeepney in relief only to realize a few seconds later that Cath Me I'm Fallin' is now playing inside your head over and over and over again.

Well. At least Toni Gonzaga can sing.

scribbled the crap..

Oh man.

From the previous post, I seemed to have messed things up from bad to worse.

Oh hell. I really suck at explaining things like these. 0_o

Why on earth did I even bother to, anyway. Everything just seems to go right over people's heads (they all think they're doing me a favor ahaha). No matter what I say, someone's still bound to drag the issue out to where it started and I have to go full circle again.

Just like the fact that not matter how much I eat, someone's still bound to complain that I don't eat enough. No matter how early or late I go to bed, someone's still bound to say that I never get enough sleep or I sleep too much. And no matter how I try to chuck things out of my head, they still manage to find themselves back in.

For heaven's sake, why bother?

Just fall on my head, you worthless dirty-white ceiling, you. You're a sight for sore eyes.

Eh.

Of course I'm rambling. Haha. What else is there to do?

Oh man.

something that is worth posting..

=( one world. one home.

why do we kill people, who kill people..to show people that killing people is wrong? *sigh*