Monthly Archives: April 2007

looking for homes

lean on me when you’re not strong
173332060_74115b2d11.jpg

i handle a magazine for kids. i used to secretly envy my colleague who was handling this magazine in 2006. when she resigned, the magazine was given to my care. i can still picture the big smile on my face when the mag was turned over to me, as if i was being told that i’d be winning a lifetime stay in the library of my choice (nerd.). i remembered bugging the EIC to let me write for this magazine. i was meeting her for the first time, and i was pimping my writing skills (?) to her twenty seconds after i shook her hand.

when it was my turn to handle the mag, i was so caught up doing backroom work for it (editorial production, budget, managing of EA) that i forgot to volunteer for the editorial side. imagine, to be chummy with the EIC and forget to pimp myself! crazy girl.

now, i finally got to volunteer for a science-y topic. just when i was flexing my hands to begin the article (i’m trying to project that i am a deadline-conscious writer here. good thing the EAs of Burn and F&B don’t know my blog), my EIC emails me: can you instead do the shelter animals article since agay is just one visit away to PAG-ASA for the article? of course, i said yes. this was opportunity spreading its legs.

now i am reading a blog (http://mefindhome.blogspot.com/) for the article. i am also up for a visit in the shelter in katipunan (maybe next week). one minute into the blog, and tears are welling up in my eyes. fuck sensible writing. so much for psyching myself into not feeling too much and handling this like a professional writer.

i am really into animals. i hate people hurting them, so much so that i have a portion in me that still hates my mom and stepdad for doing this crime. if i recount all the incidents when my pets naturally made me cry, you would also be able to have a ballpark figure (also factor in people moments) of how many times i died and emerged more shaken and jaded.

joyce sees through your heart even if she’s blind
joyce

so pray for me please that i finish this article, that i be more professional, that the article doesn’t come way off as 100% plea, that i don’t come off as a writer only down on my knees and praying for the animals’ redemption, that i empower, not just bring tears to people’ eyes.

i have asked that you do not link my blog to yours. but as a very special birthday gift (eto na, using our friendships; sorry, i have to do this for what i’m also fighting for), can you please link the said blog to your blog to raise awareness? please, i beg you.

thank you. tell me when you’ve linked the animal welfare blog, and i’ll give you a huge hug! it’s the least you and i can do.

i guess each one of us has either found his or her home or is in the middle of one’s search. the stories differ, but the yearning is the same.
please find me a mommy

even a goddess needs love
cat-goddess

sadly, nicole has an enlarged heart, but she can definitely love in an immense waynicole

still_poetry

it’s still a few hours away from my birthday, and there’s nothing than celebrating it with a poem. i have a digital collection stashed away somewhere filed as “poems of gods.” here’s one miracle from that stash.

Still
Lisa Zeidner

We still want to say the one true thing
we almost said by that pond in the beginning.

One of us skipped a rock instead, not well,
and offered something paradoxical:

Then we wanted now. Then we said, will be best.
Though we know better now, we still miss then.

Later, snowed in—though the only elements
were typographical—we read Hamlet

out loud, watching words clink through ice.
How distinct a word was then, how crisp!

What is this homesickness?
What do we think we’ve lost?

Though nothing’s wrong, we still suspect
the true thing must be said in verse—so what,

we therefore ask, is verse? The reverse
of how we’ve spoken all these years?

If so, when did we grow prosaic? Why?
I tell you everything we did was poetry:

our words were stepping stones across
the fairy tale pond, meandering and mossy,

yet getting us somewhere—here, perhaps.
Of course it’s more complicated than that.

You reminded me—we had a history even then—
how I once said, You are the perfect sentence.

I remembered a scarf of yours, bright red.
Was that the true thing needing to be said?

Let’s say it to this vulnerable snow, tonight.
This snow, unsaying itself on the pavement.

tv series

i’m slowly getting addicted to grey’s anatomy.

quotes from grey’s anatomy:

“of course, now you know every time he gets a rise, he’ll be thinking of you.” – says miranda to issie — hmm, a friend beat miranda to this beautiful thought. haha!

“barriers don’t keep others out. they fence you in.” – tell me something i don’t know.

i am a certified nut case for prison break. thanks, michael scofield, for redeeming the male of the species’ real masculinity.

and now for the finale!
quoting garbage: you can look, but you can’t touch. 🙂

man oh man

i can’t wait to get tattooed. upper, relax, i will tell you when the time is ripe. i know you want to see me weep and wince with the pain first hand.

i have designs now. i might have two on spots where bones jut. they say the more painful areas to be tattooed on are the chest, kidney area, spine. i’m thinking of going for the outline, no shading, but we’ll see. now, what do i do with some hurdles? man, there are people who are opposing this plan… i don’t want to hurt them, thus the dilemma.

why can’t life be simple sometimes? get tattooed, get on with your life, nobody gets disgruntled. is that too much to ask?

btw, my therapist (can we all read it as the rapist? please? it gives me a kick. 🙂 ) told me i have low pain tolerance. great news, right? f*cking a** of a tolerance. i feel i’m gonna faint in the middle of getting tattooed.

oh, if you have other tv series you think i might dig, tell me. but i’m telling you now, i have a distaste for lost and 24. so, please give me other titles in my suggestion box.

my other tv series fascination:

bob.jpg
band of brothers

carnivale.jpg
carnivale

i wish that producers churn out more series for my taste. i don’t usually go for the dramatic shows with murders and constant affairs. oh, and i don’t like thrillers, too. even if i am a night creature, i don’t prefer to imagine things sliding out from under the table. i remember getting addicted to the show, ally mcbeal. it was really an addiction. i took dinner at a later time, i watched even if i had acads tests and presentations lined up the next day. thank god, the series is over, it’s not really nice to be tied down by a tv show. there are more important things to do in life, right? 😉

books standing tall

please give me one or two as gifts for my birthday. i want! i want! or you can teach me to make one. it’s called book sculpture. but mind you, i’m not about to murder my beloved books. i’ll get a mediocre one. maybe the ones from __________, haha! darn, i should have seen this way before the damn exhibit. talk about “25 minutes too late.”

book

book!

random

let me indulge—

(listening to michelle branch’s breathe)

april is my birthday month. after my stepmom died, i began hating birthdays and Christmas because they keep count the years piling up with no stepmom to spend them with. it makes you immensely sad to know that you are very sad deep down; no hands can even reach that room barred shut.

michelle branch is singing: if I just breathe/let it fill the space between/i’ll know everything is alright/Breathe/every little piece of me/you’ll see/everything is alright/if I just breathe

thank you, michelle branch.

getting an email from an acquaintance

i wrote something for burn magazine in the section, grace note. this acquaintance said: “I loved your Grace Note bit on the March-April issue of Burn.” and i think i made her cry. or close to tears.

amazing, how music (and other forms of art) can trigger lots of things.

movies having a bit of myself

the wedding planner – jennifer lopez’s character hated colored M&Ms. way before the movie was created, i hated and continue to hate, abhor, colored M&Ms, and only had an eye for the brown M&Ms. imagine my look when i encountered the scene where she was throwing the colored bits. a friend did a very sweet thing one time: he got a colored bit and removed the colored shell and gave me the denuded chocolate. thank you.

amelie – this is quite embarassing. i hope you treat this as our secret. everytime, as in everytime i pass a place with motels or hotels (e.g. Glorietta area studded with hotels), i wonder how many couples are having sex at that very moment. this habit is very quirky, i know, but it’s very me. i look up towards the lit and unlit rooms and a playful smile crosses my face. in amelie, she does this exactly: wonders how many are having sex at that very moment, and she smiles. the scenes depicting her thoughts are various coupling scenes: women hissing, women moaning, women saying “oops” when coming. when i encountered this scene, i got goosebumps. somewhere over the atlantic, there are people (the movie’s writer or director or screenplay writer) who think like me.

the addams family – wednesday addams with her invisible veil of gloom and despair. i rest my case.

monsters, inc. – i love boo. so much.

realization

i just realized, thanks to a casual conversation, the summary of my personality.
in a nutshell: i am a genuinely angsty person trying with all her best to be happy.
i realized this when i was again “reading” a person. this person, i realized, is genuinely happy, who is trying to be angsty. and then i reversed my formula.
voila.

if they find water on the moon
if they discover life on mars
does it mean you’ll be home soon?
can i hold you in my arms?
i want to believe in miracles
i need to believe in miracles
if i could go, i’d be there.

-water on the moon, cindy bullens

a bit about books

i wasn’t tagged by anyone, obviously, since i don’t have any blog links, so i took the liberty of copying this set of questions and starting my solitary churning out of answers. note: i didn’t exactly give one book per question. i immensely enjoyed this little task.

1. One book that changed your life.
J.M. Barrie’s Peter Pan
I love the tone, i love the myth. i love the stories, the ironies, the place, the characterization, the haunting undertones.

2. One book you have read more than once.
Midnight’s Children Heroes pales in comparison to this masterpiece
One Hundred Years of Solitude – here, the men and women are just ethereal
Stories of Eva Luna

3. One book you would want to bring to a deserted island.
Satanic Verses held by gael garcia bernal with no salvaged luggage
The Quick and the Dead held by a naked johnny depp
Sputnik Sweetheart held by You

4. One book that made you laugh.
Calvin and Hobbes. does it count? Hmm, Haroun and the Sea of Stories
A.A. Milne’s Pooh series
See, i don’t get to read happy books.

5. One book that made you cry.
Hands down: Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry and Great Expectations by Charles Dickens

6. One book you wish had been written.
This is hard… something about Ditas Carolino’s documentaries. Like a coffee table book on her trips, something to give to owners of the Philippines’ top 100 companies. There’d be sparse words, the photos would speak for themselves. And the book would be straightforward: “At the inside back cover of this book, you will find a list of NGOs and havens, along with options (online deposit, ATM transaction, snail mail, bank transaction) for you to send generous amount of donations, in massive kind or in cash. This act is called pagpapakatao.”

The Art of (Modern) War II by the same author

7. One book you wish had never been written.
Bob Ong’s books. Sorry guys, I just can’t dig his tone.

8. One book you are currently reading.
Corelli’s Mandolin by Louise Bernieres

9. One book you have been meaning to read.
The Iliad

10. Tag five people for this meme. I won’t be upset if you don’t do the meme. But I’ll be really happy if you do!
hmm.. You, Janelle, Adel, Voyeur A, Voyeur B

rehab

5 things you feel when you’re having therapy

1. you feel stupid. how the hell does one have an intrinsic knowledge to put on
a medical gown? when i got examined for x-ray, the male med tech asked me to changed into a gown. i tried to get affirmation from him if i wore the gownright. it turned out the front side should be the back side. so how does one tie those strings, then, if your only companion in the room is the med tech himself?

2. you feel more stupid. read this: “so, did you bring a pair of shorts?” the PT asked. “i didn’t know i was supposed to bring shorts,” i said.

3. you feel your esteem is diminishing. read this: “does this hurt?” the PT asked. “yes.” “hmm, low threshold,” the PT mumbles to herself. to quote rex navarete in marites and her super friends: sorry, i was just eating fish!

4. you feel cold. the gown is thin, and you are only in your undies (see # 2).

5. you feel you’re in an asylum. the walls are white. the PT leaves you to do stretches. you wait. meanwhile, you in your white gown merge with the wall.

for those who are wondering, yes, i’m okay. just a bit alienated since my first therapy session. or “rehab,” to quote the receptionist at the hospital. what’s nice about this is, i have to undergo swimming sessions, an activity which i’ve been dying to do. yey!

blackbird_song

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free.

Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.

Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
You were only waiting for this moment to arise

If I Fell_song

If I Fell
Beatles

If I fell in love with you
Would you promise to be true
And help me understand
’cause I’ve been in love before
And I found that love was more
Than just holding hands

If I give my heart to you
I must be sure
From the very start
That you would love me more than her

If I trust in you oh please
Don’t run and hide
If I love you too oh please
Don’t hurt my pride like her
’cause I couldn’t stand the pain
And I would be sad if our new love was in vain

So I hope you see that I
Would love to love you
And that she will cry
When she learns we are two
’cause I couldn’t stand the pain
And I would be sad if our new love was in vain

So I hope you see that I
Would love to love you
And that she will cry
When she learns we are two
If I fell in love with you…

feeling like a coaster

freefall is a section in weight of words for masturbatory, practice writing, random quotes and pieces of poetry. similar to a tattoo where an artist sketches an outline first before the very illustration, freefall is an outline of either beautiful or monstrous sets of words to come.

*********************************************************************

“so, what’s your problem?”

“nothing. i don’t want to talk about it.”

“you mean, after 7 years of not meeting up, and then getting an urgent text from you about a problem, and after dragging me all the way here, you shrug and say, nothing?”

“i wanted to just be with you, forget about things.”

“is this about your internship, pharma subject, your parents?”

silence.

i look at her glass of water, see a tinge of her lip gloss on the glass’s edge. if i can just drink from that same glass, i can kiss her. any contact, it’s fine with me. sigh, i am such a repressed maniac. she hasn’t changed, still spouts brusque words, her automatic insults to other diners, the lingering kiss on my cheek for our “hello’s”, the full red of her lips.

“okay. i get it, you don’t want to talk about it.”

“my friends are in bora, i didn’t get to go since i have med mission scheduled tomorrow, which was cancelled last-minute.”

“you can follow them.”

“by the time i board the plane, they’d be on their way back to manila.”

“is the bora trip the one bugging you?”

“hell, no.”

“why are you so blunt?”

“i don’t know. must be the second-hand smoke. you know i don’t sit in any smoker’s area.”

how should i know? we haven’t talked in years.

“but there’s no place for us inside.”

“bah, humbug.”

that phrase, it’s so ancient. the last time i heard it was from my own lips when i portrayed ebenezer in our grade school play. she got that habit from reading my book reports when she helped me clean my room. she’s the only one who says it with authority, as if those wordswere made by dickens just for her, sending shivers down my spine. the shiver feels a bit odd and funny and threatening.

“i need to work on a project, so i gotta go asap. when you’re done with your chicken, of course.”

“that’s fine by me. i can be lounging in bora now, but no. fate is cruel.”

yes, it is.

she drops me off, offers her cheek, and i lean closer, like a goddamn pious child about to kiss a saint’s feet.

i walk with my head reeling in distress. i can set up a blog merely for giving advice on remaining friends with someone whom you didn’t get to own in a relationship, sort of a limbo relationship, a big what-if, an M.U., as what my generation terms it, the type that drives you to choose “It’s Complicated” in Friendster. the point of the blog would be to save readers from heart ache, to recognize a deadend as a deadend, to look at holes as too small for a revolutionary entry, to know that even if your head reels, your heart is too shredded to even hold up a hand. and she will be the only link in that blog, and her comments would be too tragic and too painful i will just delete the entire blog. that’s how much it hurts, that’s how much it will remain hurting, you just decide to erase things.

bah, humbug. those words again, from my eternal last song syndrome, my bold saint who has the power to turn me into a door mat, a coaster, a transistor radio, into whatever she desires.