A Trip Down Memory Lane

One cannot let go of the past if they want to advance to the future, at least that's what I believe. There are happy moments, bad memories, that if I add them all up, the sum is me.

The past few days have been trips to memory lane. My long time friend had posted photos on Facebook of our first ever, the one and the only (I hope not the last, though), sojourn to Sagada, an almost seven hour drive from Baguio, Philippines. The road was steep, the edges sharp. It was a literal two way street. I remember our bus, upon nearing an approaching vehicle, felt the need to stop as this passing vehicle was tracing its way. I recall seeing pebbles falling off the cliff, our window side of the cliff, though the transport was on a pause. The motto of the drivers being "Give and take is the best policy", the only way to a safe but heart pounding journey. I never stopped praying at that time.

And my friend posted a photo taken in a hostel after reaching the place. After nine years. After nine lengthy, subconsciously-stored-data-almost-forgotten-unless-deliberately-rummaged-through-the-mind-chock-a-block-with-nonsensical-stuff, perpetuated years. Remnant recollections start flooding the page.

I almost forgot how I looked like then. She posted a picture taken on our graduation day. Another one taken at their house for some event I could not recall. These precious moments have rekindled the need to a repeat, of everyone of us being together again, a plan that is almost close to impossibility. I hope it transpires in the coming year.

And yesterday. A friend of mine, a classmate in college, visited a common friend here, another college classmate, for a few days. We agreed to meet up. After a very long time. Communication had stopped between us until Facebook was founded and we became part of each other's list. Last night was a well-spent night, chit chatting, joking around, updating on each other's lives. I am glad we met again.

The past has its own way of creeping on us. Some are good, some are bad. Some are worth the while. Some are humorous it revived laughter, a guffaw resounding for another millennium or so.

One cannot let go of the past if they want to advance to the future, at least that's what I believe. There are happy moments, bad memories, that if I add them all up, the sum is me.

The Lost Girls

We were a bit lost. The MRT was already closed for the day. We took the last option, the bus.

After taking a bus, we alighted in another MRT station a great distance from where we stay. We wanted to push through and take another bus that would send us home, but we hesitated. The stop we alighted caters to a bus that services a road near our place, but this particular road is infamous for its chilling stories. Not a good idea for two girls in the middle of the night to take chances, right?

I was slowly pacing back and forth, strategizing the cheapest way home, when a voice from the heavens thundered in between my thoughts. "Do you need help?", it said. My stare shifted from nowhere to somewhere. The guy waiting in the bus stop noticed our predicament and had chosen to be involved. I informed him of our intention. He tried his best, we appreciate that. Most importantly, we were amused by his endearing cheekiness. Not a normal happening in today's society where someone's business is not somebody else's. 

In the end of it all, we still took the safest route, the cab. We shelled out a higher fare, there was not much options. But I guess that was okay. The guy's intervention with the two lost girls was enough to magnify the positivity. "It does not matter where you arrived at, but how you got there", a quote I read somewhere. Getting lost is part of the game. Interceding factors make it all memorable.

Happy Endings in Raw

Everyone is craving for a happy ending, like a child coveting cotton candies in the middle of summer. Happy endings that transpire only in fairytales. They are a rare condition, a once in a millennium event. But as scarce as they may be, these fairytale-like endings are still breathed and could take the form of fortunate individuals. I wish I am one of them.

I met an uncle today. His sentimentality was opaque. I asked for something from him, he struggled to remove it from his miniature clear book containing his cards. In this pocket-sized file did I see his most prized possession. It is turning into a crisp mixture of sepia and black and white. The image is still intact, the faces recognizable. I could still recall the curly hair of the bride and her white garment. It was their wedding picture.

After all these years. The uncle is in the sunset years of his life. Almost every strand of his crown is greying. The intactness of the photo is struggling. But to be able to save it and carry it with him wherever he may be, along with the articles of present time, astounded me. After all these years.

At times when I phone my mom, she recalls asking me if I have found someone. The answer is always a blatant truth. Then she starts repeating her advices, like I have never heard of them a billion times before. I find myself according, part of me doing so just to satisfy her. Part of me hoping for a miracle. Her persistence sometimes plagues me, that before I retire and close my eyes at night, I remember to include in my prayers my conception of a knight in shining armor, galloping on his horse, sweeping me off my feet. I am affirmative. With faith. I know God heeds my supplications, and I am not in haste. The rainbow that reflected on the pole on top of the sofa and my colleague's room inside the branch yesterday was a manifestation. God remembers His promise and His wisest decisions. All I could do is to recline on it.

Happy endings are not extinct. Versions vary, but they are still in existence. They take whatever form, glide in whatever time, and motivate in whatever genre. I know mine is awaiting to happen. I am unfailing in my desires, regardless of the cruelty surrounding me. My golden, crisp sepia and black and white wedding photo is about to be printed, in 10-megapixels, vivid portrait with face detection. In high definition. ^^

FB

Facebook. I did not realize the enormity and limitless scope of Facebook, until I spoke to one girl yesterday.

That was my first time to see her. But it seemed like I was familiar to her. She approached my counter, looking directly at me. I began doing her transaction. And then she asked, "What camera are you using?"

I was flabbergasted. "I saw your pictures," she added. She saw my pictures? How could that be? She is not acquainted with me. Was she from the church? One of the hundred faces I encounter everyday? Was she a friend on Facebook? I know everyone in my list. Surely, she is not one of them. My puzzled reaction caught her that she replied, "I saw your pictures from William (a friend on Facebook)". So it is Facebook!

No wonder Mark Zuckerberg is a millionaire now. He co-founded the most popular social networking site, elevating his name to be one of the world's millionaires. To top that, he is only 26. He was once a geek whose sole intention was to attract girls. So he concocted the most popular site in his dormitory when he was still a student, thus the birth of Facebook. Today, voluptuous and the prettiest girls are not only magnetized to him; businesses believe in him. In a normal Facebook page, advertisements are visible, and a variety of them are a mainstay. Zuckerberg has been all over the world to give talks about the success of his project. He is to be emulated.

Speaking of the unbounded world of facebooking, it made me wary over information I readily made available in the cyber superhighway. Facebook does not detect hits; I am not fully aware who views my page. And this made me circumspect. I enjoyed posting statements and photos, unaware of the publicity my life gets. I understand why some prefer excluded from this social site. Some moments in life are private. We can leave it at that.

P.S. I was flattered when the girl mentioned it to me, though. It brightened my day to know that someone appreciates my photos, aside from the recognition I solicit from my friends and loved ones. I felt myself blushing. :)

Saturday Night Fever

Things to do on a Saturday night:

1. Stalk on Facebook.
2. Answer a test.
3. Fail the test. (Grrrrr!!)
4. Retake the test.
5. Pass the test with flying colors (after THREE attempts. So all answers were ALL OF THE ABOVE!!)
6. Stalk on Facebook.
7. Turn on the radio (and be tortured by upbeat music. I should be out there listening to the covers live, but here I am, hearkening to the recorded vocals and acoustics by original artists percolating through a singing machine).
8. Talk on YM.
9. Stalk on Facebook.
10. Take dinner at 10pm.
11. Decide to go to Starbucks and laze the night away over coffee and tete-a-tete with beautiful friends.

All these because, "I'm broke, but I'm happy..." Thanks, Alanis, for reminding me.

Back to Basics Seminar

Today is a holiday. But instead of garfielding the day away, I woke up at 7am. I awoke earlier than my regular working day.

I slept at past 12am last night. I only had around 6 hours of sleep. I hungered for more. And so, as expected, I sojourned to Neverland while the speaker in the seminar I attended today was delivering his piece. And being the queen of guilt, yeah, I feel remorseful.

I read from somewhere that a person tends to yawn if he is too focused on something. My attention was captured by the speakers, alright, I was too focused it did not only make me yawn. I traversed to dreamland. I felt my head tilting, my eyes closing, my vision blurring. The speakers' voices trailed off, and I wished I was on my bed, in my room, sleeping the day away. While it was raining outside.

I tried to fathom the minimal information that glided through a bleak opening in my brain. I am proud to say that even though there were some short trips to far, far away, I grasped something. I can still recall the priest's homily. The surprising part of the day was when this particular priest opened his mouth and began uttering the homily. I was in awe. It was a very good one, one of a few best homilies I had ever attended. I found myself tearing.

Tomorrow is a continuation. But I wouldn't be able to take part. I wish I could, but some wishes are just not meant to come true. I have one day to cherish, anyway. Though I spent a good 60% of it snoozing, the focal point of it will be kept in my memory.

Available

I had been busy these past few days that I neglected to update my blog. I had been preoccupied with work, some responsibilities, some obligations. I had been busy. Busy, busy, busy. Busy. The number one killer that destroys relationships, and I am guilty of it. Its sheer existence should be banned from the dictionary.

I have a friend who used to constantly communicate with me. No days had passed without even a bid of hello from my friend. But I guess, being the easiest crime to commit, busyness intercepted. Decadence on correspondences followed, a domino effect. I feel like talking to a stranger sometimes when my friend attempts to interact again. The residual effect of being busy, the lukewarmness feeling. Time is the main player.

But I am guilty too. I failed to even say hi to my brother online. "Family first," says Michael Newman from Click. God first. Family second. All else falls on equal level behind these two.

I am banning the word busy from my vocabulary from this day onwards.

(The Late) Inception

I have seen Inception ages ago, but as I was walking home after alighting a bus yesterday a thought captured me. 

A dream wove in a dream. Layers and layers of reverie stacked up, meant to rectify actuality. Confusion devours a person until he succumbed to make believe. A beautiful fantasy and a dangerous path if dictated by a wrong intention. A perfect plan for the wrong reasons.

There was an argument between my friend and I after watching it. The last scene was an open-ended scenario. His totem kept spinning, and the movie was closed in the middle of a perfect spin. The totem was supposed to be the key to reality or to the realm of a dream, and the director, as clever as he is, cut it while it was dancing gracefully.

They had a final project, a make or break for Dom Cobb. The bet was his life; his life before inception involving himself and his lovely wife. His wife may not be part of the life he so desperately longed for, yet he yearned for a normal continuity, for the sake of his kids. After delivering the last project successfully, the promise of returning his original life was initialised. His last memory of his kids, before his self-exile was effected, was without their faces. The last shot in the movie showed the kids' faces while playing in their garden, the perfect resemblance to his last memoir with a little alteration. This was where arguments started.

Their last project was inception, performed to a guy who never had any idea of it. This is the concept that raptured me as I was heading for my humble abode. It would not have been used as a title if it was just about a guy, a character of insignificance, and their last project. I was hoping for a heavier weight. Something that has got to do with the protagonist. The last scene with his kids being incepted, inception on the protagonist? A better possibility!

When one is trapped in the past and has failed to move forward, he will remain in the trance. He will start amending it to his liking, albeit unconsciously, rebuilding a castle of happy ending made of sand. A defense mechanism, yes. The mind is full of labyrinthine excuses.

So I rest my case.