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I started a Project 365 in February 2012 with the goal of being able to go at it until February 2013. It was a spectacular failure. I stopped in August thereabouts. As I write this there is 2:29pm sunlight streaming in my window. My room is painted purple and I have white curtains. So there is yellow, purple and white if I look to my right. If I look to my left there is a mirror. Today I just want to point out how insistent life is. How you find yourself wondering, how do I manage to go on.
Saturdays are pink. Some of the time they like to pretend they are raunchy and adventurous so they are red. Pink connotes gentleness, clouds at 4pm, a frilly dress. Saturdays like to gather in a park and talk about how people use them. "This girl woke up early to cook pancakes and spent the rest of the day wondering about cotton candy." "This boy fixed his skate board, called up a girl and wondered aloud if he should bring her flowers next time." Some Saturdays are quiet because some people just sit and think to themselves "I like this day."
There is a rock behind the house. It towers above the second floor roof and is mysterious. Below it flows grey waters, smooth stones punctuate the sides, and even before you get in it you will already know it is cold. Just by looking at it. In dreams anything can happen. Mornings can be dark and evenings can be yellowish, greenish even. There was this one morning in a dream where the colors were unrecognizeable. Don't you find it amusing that it's very possible we don't know everything there is to know? We can't see everything there is to see?
If spoken words can hurt, an outward sign or facial expression can cause a rift, and a malevolent touch can spark a fight -- what then can silence do? Can it cause far worse pain? Does it depend how long one is silent? The gravity of the situation? The context by which one chooses not to talk? Who is to say whether one thing is more hurtful than the other? Who is to say whether being hurt is a function of one's own thinking or if it is inflicted? Who made the rules? Who thought of being quiet as a weapon?
Today you woke up and wondered "Who was the first person who got his heart broken?" You think maybe that person was the one who thought up ways to mend a broken heart. He or she was the first one to tear love letters, drown in tears, curse at the walls, pine for a lost loved one, beg, smile at a memory, cry upon realizing it will not be repeated. These things, maybe they were invented. Maybe they weren't supposed to exist at all. Maybe people should have been better off if this person's heart was not broken at all.
So in order for you not to reject me, here, let me be the one to do it to you. I am not allowing you to hurt me, so I am hurting you. I want you to know that I have feelings for you so I am doing things that will make you think otherwise. I want to tell you I like you so what I say instead is "I like this other person so much." I wait for you to get the hint even if I know that what I shall do instead is say it as it is.
Do you believe that it is possible for someone to wait for a day all his life? It is Thursday, you wake up and declare to your ceiling "I have been waiting for this day for 122 days, x hours, x minutes, x seconds and now here it is and I can't even get up because if I do then this day will be over." You hesitate to start because you are scared of having an ending. So maybe you can just not start at all? Have it be a dream all your life? Everything and nothing is possible, love.
You have a slightly bent posture and you walk funny sometimes. Walking along by your left I could see your Adam's apple, your long neck, your facial hair. I don't know how long I can go on speaking of you, without you noticing that I am speaking of you. There were these four seconds yesterday wherein after I said the word "follicle" we laughed a real laugh and I remember thinking, "please don't let me fall deeper." You have hair on your hands, they're nice to look at, you are so nice to look at it almost breaks my heart.
These secrets we keep in the deepest darkest part of our closet. Sunlight tries so hard to reach them but it's as if these secrets have their own mind, also, two feet. A lot of feet, for running. A lot of hands, for hiding their face. A lot of audacity, to stay hidden. They are pompous. So proud and confident that they can stay that way for as long as they want. They don't know that sunlight has other plans. There is a hole somewhere, a slit, a tiny crack to pass through. The day will come when it will succeed.
Blur said to focus "people prefer me over you." Focus said to blur "some people do get over procrastination and actually attain me." Blur said "most would rather do something they shouldn't be doing instead of something they should." To which focus said "you are right, but there are pockets of time when they hit the right note and they choose me, and stay on that choice for hours." Blur, or delay, distraction, Whatever is Easy and Fun at the Moment, and its countless other names, was quiet. It was thinking of a retort but chose to do something else.
There are conversations that are suited to be had before sleep, in bed, when the mind is at its most tired yet at its clearest. These are the things that one says in a whisper yet these are matters where every word needs to be heard. In the din of a public place, a train station, a mall, some precious words may get lost, an important inflection may not be noticed. In bed, one should look the other in the eyes, touch her hair, say "I hear you, I understand you." And it will be meant, it will be true.
In my dream, the two of you were talking to me and he said "It's my birthday today." You laughed and just sat there beside me. In my dream I was anxious to ask "Are the two of you together? The answer would really make a lot of things clear." But in my dream I just kept quiet. I looked at you longingly and wished that there was a way I could tell you how I feel without the risk of pain and embarrassment. Can it even be called love if there is fear? Am I just romanticizing all these?
You do this thing with your mouth when you are concentrating or about to say something, you purse it for a split second (but in my world it lasts for, oh, so much longer) then you narrow your eyes. I like it. I wish that in this lifetime we get to meet whoever it is that's meant to be with us. Because what if this is The Lifetime I get to meet mine? I want to say: I want it to be you. But these are matters out of our hands. It's almost unfair. PS: I really like your voice.
Today was a hot day. When I got home my head was pounding and it felt like my blood was boiling. I had to lie down and convince myself to stop thinking, because even that small act was making something hurt. While asleep I had a dream about a food court where it was so dark all I could see were shadows. People were eating as if they could see what they were eating. I didn't know whether I should do the same or ask someone to turn on a light or just go somewhere else. I woke up still tired.
This morning I wrote about broccoli. It is my favorite vegetable. I like how deep its green is, how imposing it looks in the market, how it is crunchy and playful when being eaten. I have a book called "The Enchanted Broccoli Forest" and on the cover are these broccoli heads pretending to be trees. Inside are lovely one-page recipes fit to be framed. I am tempted to tear out the pages and frame them because they will look good in somebody's kitchen wall. But I still find it hard to tear book pages. Anyway, broccoli is so pretty.
Seventeen and half alive. I am trying to say, what I want to say, without having to say "I love you." All I want is one more chance to show you, you were right for me. You were what I wanted, I gave what I gave. I'm not sorry I met you, I'm not sorry it's over, I'm not sorry there's nothing to say. One day I'll be sand on a beach by a sea. And I'll laugh about all that we've lost. God, that was strange to see you again. (All from Stars songs)
Trust your reasons. I always tell myself this in cases of self-doubt. Last night was something I wish didn't happen. To be exact, I wish I didn't say the things I said last night. Sometimes I can be a real asshole. The best solution is to just keep quiet and not repeat what I did last night. Let it end there. Anyway, today I had dinner with Papa and he told me about school, what he did today, and about this children's party with an ice cream stand and (perhaps) a cotton candy stand. It was fun hearing that.
If you list the things you like about a person: humor, intelligence, eyes, hands, does it mean that you are 100% sure about what you feel? Because there are people who when you ask them, "Why do you like this person?" will shrug and say "I don't know, I just do." Some people will find that to be true, others will judge them as lazy thinkers, others will conclude "Oh, you don't really like that person." It's vague, this business of specifics/generalizations, names/or lack of them. They're supposed to make things clear but they seem to be doing otherwise.
Tuesday is my favorite day. Just now I was looking at photos of an old friend in Facebook and noticed something different about her: eye make up. She was pretty then, she's prettier now. I have no idea what this has to do with Tuesday being my favorite day. A few hours ago I was in bed thinking of you and how I can manage to go on like This. "This" being a state of confusion and immobility resulting in hours upon hours of worry over whether I can stop feeling fond of you and what happens next by then?
There are some things that need to be said. There are some things that are better left unsaid. These are rules. They are confusing but each situation has its own corresponding rule and we shall see to it that these rules are followed. If you want clarity, say it. If you want to keep it a secret, then keep it. Telling is different from hinting. Some people are not good with hints -- either it's giving or getting. Hints should be phased out. There should be a new rule: Tell it as it is. Whoever still subscribes to hints shall be punished.
I am 31 years old. Sometimes I can't help but think back to the past 31 years or so that I have been doing things wrong. For example, today I relearned that you shouldn't change people. You should let them be who they are otherwise you're just assuming control over them, which is not a very right thing to do. I thought back over the past years that I've done that and I cringe. We can always say "I didn't know better." I am writing this and I think I can be absolved just because I admitted to a wrongdoing.
It is a building with 70 floors. If you reach the rooftop and you happen to look up there will appear more floors, how many is hard to confirm. The secret is not to look up. Look ahead. Wear blinders if necessary, because what's ahead is what's important. It is an expanse, yes, nothingness. That is what you are supposed to see. If you look down there will be momentary loss of control. Hold on tight. Be sure of your steps. Do not scream Do not be afraid. Stay where you are. The secret is not to let yourself fall.
The words in "Distance," (Christina Perri featuring Jason Mraz) cause a strange kind of stirring. At this hour, here, this version of now, things are a little too pink and cloudy. A nudge can sway the delicate balance of things. It is a precarious time, what we call "this moment, now, what we have." It is too important because it will not last. Why else would you hold on if you knew it would always be there? "The sun is filling up the room, and I can hear you dreaming, do you feel the way I do right now?"
Two couple-relatives recently celebrated their silver wedding anniversary. Tito Jun and Tita Lolet; Kuya Neo and Ate Pink. Photographic evidence states that I was flower girl in both weddings. I remember Mama was with me, fussing over my hair, dress and lack of make-up. Twenty-five years ago these couples vowed to have and to hold and now they're staying true to that promise. Twenty-five years ago I had flowers on my head, witnessing two people promise to stay in each other's lives forever, I have no clear memory, but those must have been really happy times.
This is how I look in photographs: Awkward. There is almost always a gaping space between me and whoever is beside me. It's not apparent at the moment when the photo is being taken, I assume that I look comfortable, that I am close enough to the person beside me, but then after it is taken the photo shows that I was awkwardly standing/sitting there, like any moment I will run away, or that I didn't want to be there. There is a disconnect, I don't feel uncomfortable as I look. Only a bit. But the photos like exaggerating.
Today was about talk and food. Regret and restraint. Respect and honesty. Patience and forbearance. My favorite part was the food though. This is me making light of how heavy this day had been. The parts with the most talk were okay. The silences were the ones that weighed me down. Long silences wherein I wanted to say something, thought about it for a long time, and still I ended up saying the stupid, crass, insensitive version of what I really wanted to say. Tomorrow is another day to try to be better than today. Tuesdays shouldn't be this dark.
Coffee in the morning. Mid-morning. Lunch. Afternoon. Night. Midnight. Too much coffee. I think the cream's responsible for my bulging tummy, or too much sugar. Or the too much sitting around drinking coffee. I go out with friends and I drink coffee. I come home and the first thing I head towards is the thermos. I plan on setting up my own coffee station in my room just so I wouldn't have to go to the kitchen to make coffee. One day I will not be able to drink anything else but. Why did I even start drinking coffee.
How quaint is it, to hear someone's voice on an actual land line? When I was younger I used to talk on the phone for hours with my friends. Sometimes though I would get tired, my ears would feel chaffed and I can't wait for the conversation to be over so I could watch TV, read a book, or eat that banana I've been eyeing on the dining table. There was hardly any thing wireless then. I used to think, what an inconvenience to be old-fashioned. Now it's almost all wireless and, oh, what I would give for what was.
The Tip Jar