The Ends of Being and Ideal Grace

Tropical. From root word trope, (1) any literary or rhetorical device that consists of the use of words other than their literal sense. -Paraphrased from http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/trope.

The skies have been gray for about a week now. The rain stops from time to time but the skies still appear to be cold sheets of steel. No rainbows, no blessed ray of yellow sunlight. Winds blow around, going about its usual windy ways. I zip my jacket up, pull the cuffs down over my chilled hands. I hold my broken umbrella against the wind. It stirs up my hair and my thoughts as well. It feels like December morning. I smile at the thought of December and its mess of activities. But today was the first day of August and the cold seems rather foreboding compared to the chills brought about by a December midnight spent sitting atop the steps. If it had a face, it would be frowning and pouting. I remind myself that today is August, not December and it's not like any December will be the same again.

Drops of rain fall with increasing frequency and intensity. I hang on to my umbrella and trudge along, the hems of my jeans brushing the rivulets of water on the sidewalk. I walk up the road, imagining myself shaking my fist up to the charcoal drawing heavens. Rain makes everything so hard, so heavy... so sad. Not to mention wet, of course. The damp bleakness of it all makes me long for the dusty, humid summer. Did I just dream summer up? Did summer even happen? Was it not a distant unreality? There's no sun, there's no warmth.  The wind blows again, intensifying my clear want of warmth. The jacket has not been doing a good job. I fight the wind as I walk up the road and I realize that I haven't seen anyone walking along the road since I started walking. Maybe that's what intensifies the cold; the feeling that all people are inside their homes, cuddled under their blankets while you are braving the elements. But maybe it's just the horror movie chill of walking alone on a damp shrubby road at dusk on an unforgiving rainy day.

I get on a jeep and I spend the 15 minute ride silently watching the drops of rain drip off the tips of my hair. Despite the umbrella, half the length of my hair is wet. The wind was everywhere, the rain with it. I got off the jeep and back to the now raging torrential rainfall. I start for the homestretch that seemed like forever. The rain was beating onto my umbrella, splashing on my jeans and soaking my jacket sleeves. I feel like a battered ragdoll hosed down by some sadistic playmate. Memories of warmth, sunshine and light have completely deserted me. I hold up my umbrella, push my body forward and try to put conviction in my steps. A little more. Almost there. Just ten steps more. I staggered through the gates of my boarding house with a slight sense of contentment. I crash on the sofa of our living room, soaked but at least out of the rain.

Thunder rumbles in the distance. I'm wrapped up in a flowery blanket, dry and physically warm. The rain pours and lighting flashes across my window. I sit calmly on my bed. The wind rush through the screen windows and the curtains flutter like certain long eyelashes on familiar brown eyes. A sensation like cold welts of rain tear through. No umbrella, no jacket. An eternal tempest roaring with the bitter cold.


Yay metaphors.

There's a bloodstain on my shirt
     I had a rare nosebleed. I thought it was just a watery nose.
There's an open wound in my heart
     I bid Fr. Andy goodbye today. I thought I was steeled enough as not to cry

There's a wet towel on my head
     It doesn't feel cold anymore. It just feels wet. It's for my nosebleed.
There are dried tears on my cheek
     It feels empty that Fr. Andy's not here anymore. I just feel sad. It's not usually like this

There's a black baller band on my arm
     I bought it from Alexei. I wore it right side down today
There's a black hole in my heart
     I bought my own excuses. It was the right love at the wrong time.

There's an annoyingly distorted reporter's voice on my TV
     I'm imagining how her voice signal would look like on an oscilloscope
There's a constantly recurring scene in my head
     I'm imagining how the affection in your voice sounded like

There are two browser windows open on my laptop
     I should be working on finding our marketing team some contacts.
There are some things playing in my thoughts
     I should really be concentrating on something really important in real life.

Scratch paper, do you know
How much I like him so?
No, of course you don't
And perhaps he won't
He wouldn't really know how
I want him so bad right now.

Scratch paper, do you know
He sits in the same row
So near yet so far
A mess of feelings at war
I'm all his but he's not quite mine
I wouldn't dare cross the line

Scratch paper, do you know
How I can ever let him go?
So wrong but so right
In his brown eyes, I found light
Scratch paper, how do I not give a damn
About this man who sees me for who I am.

- I know I write poetry like a grade schooler, it's one thing I never really focused on. But hey, not bad for less than 15 minutes of work. It's not everyday I crap out poems while in class. XD

I am home alone, lying down on my belly, racked by menstrual cramps. I would really like to go out and enjoy my meager 2 week break and swim like I've never seen the beach when we go to Batangas this weekend. But no can do. I'm a victim of my own body. I'm a girl, has been for 19 years, so I guess I just have to tough this one out too. DX

If it never ends then when do we start? crooned Adam Levine when we watched Maroon 5 Live in Manila last Monday, May 23. I've not had that much fun until recently due to, quoting my friend Cholo, "Dear UP, can I please have my life back before it's too late?" You get the point. I felt ALIVE. But really, I HAD A BLAST. Wonderful setlist, awesome screaming fangirl friends, sexiness in the form of Adam Levine. Really, there is nothing I could have wished for. Except to have REALLY seen Adam Levine in the flesh with my own two eyes. Awesome. Thank you Universe, thank you overly strict parents for letting this one slide.

If it never ends then when do we start? The Maroon 5 concert was an escape of sorts. An escape from responsibility, an escape from academics, an escape from feelings festering inside. Waking up on the morning of the 24th, everything came rushing back. If this cycle of pseudo-hatred and crazed adoration never ends, when does an attempt at genuine friendship start? If this unwarranted desire never ends, when does salvation and respect begin? If this procrastination never ends, when will our database updating begin? Why do I even have to wake up?

Craaaamps. Might as well strap me onto my bed. I cannot get up anyway.

Right, there's a Maroon 5 song for that... I'm never gonna leave this bed.


As I am being held hostage by my own body, I wonder how my feelings hold me and my emotional stability hostage sometimes. How I always put what I feel in front of me every time. How has that helped me? Can I ever get over myself?

Magpapakabait na ko. Eto kasi yun eh. Eto yung ayokong masira. Eto yung hindi ko kayang i-risk. Never in a thousand years ko to iririsk just because of a reason so self-serving. /*May picture dapat kasama to eh. */
-Excerpt from my facebook account (May 13, 2011)


Still looking for that picture. I think no one posted it. That's sad coz that would be something I'd hold on to. 


I've come to accept that right now, this happy happy friendship  is all that I've got, all that I hope for. I haven't stop dreaming that maybe we could be something more but I've stopped acting on my delusions. We'd laugh, we'd study, we'd work together. We'd still walk beside each other, laze around hoping for the prof to never enter the door. And that's all that we'd so happily be. I simply cannot allow myself to be so besotted by his  kind ways. You always want what you cant have. But you can always choose to stop wanting it. 


"Sana ako ako nalang. Sana ako parin. Sana ako nalang ulit"
-Basha, One More Chance


Oh here we go again. ikaw nalang. ikaw parin naman. At ikaw nalang talaga ulit. Yeah, I think if my friends have a choice, they'd hit me in the head, run me over by a truck and fill me with enough Tanduay Ice to induce partial amnesia. Oh great hahaha. It's May 22 today. It's my self-proclaimed "monthsary". 28 months of sheer martyrdom. After 8 more months, maybe you can ask me for a miracle then I can be beatified. :D

I'm so tired. Exhausted. Spent. Slumped.

All I really need is sleep but like lemon to a gaping wound, my issues keep me awake.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"You always want what you can't have." "Be careful what you wish for, you might just get it."


Edi ako na nga ang sinapian ni Bitter Ocampo. 


Is the universe truly unfair or are we just spoiled brats who are never contented with its ways?
Are you truly undesirable or is it just not yet your time to shine?
Are you destined to remain single for the rest of your life or are you just not emotionally ready for commitment?
Are the people around you lazy bums or does this mean that they trust you completely?
What does it mean to be a leader? What does it mean to be in the inner circle of power?
If your feelings and thoughts transcend the boundaries of space and time, is it really true love?
Is there anything more foolish (or selfish) than falling for someone happy with another?
Does he not have cough medicine at home? Does his girlfriend even care? Why do I have to ask?

It's hard to think and write about universally encompassing truths. There's always something wrong. There is always something you don't believe in. There is something that does not apply. Cases exist. Sometimes all you need is common sense. And sometimes your intuition is no use.

Just imagine like a hundred or so questions like that running through my head lately. Plus Quantum Mechanics.

I am consciously losing consciousness. Bit by bit, I submit to my weary bones. My questions never cease. Tomorrow is a new day.

I recently took a liking to Train's Hey Soul Sister ergo, the title. 


Excuse me while I indulge this moment of pure fancy to take over me. No regrets. Just plain hormonal fancy.


Things that make me just WANT you. With or without the girlfriend moral argument. The shudder of your slender shoulders when you laugh. The way you gaze straight into my face with one of your incredulous "what-in-hell?!" expressions. Your soft brown eyes. The way you run your fingers through your hair. The way your hair perfectly falls back into place. The way you look when you're walking beside me. Those walks beside each other. How you always chuckle at my silly wit. The sound of the said chuckle. Your deep quiet voice. The look on your face when you're playing cards. That lunch to remember.