A and B Flat

Packing. Repacking. Unpacking. Spaces had been filled and emptied. Boxes neglected and needed.

It was just two blocks away from the previous flat, but when one has a world of essential rubbish to transport, the distance becomes significant. 

Unfortunately, I was enslaved on Friday. My friends had already commenced dragging half of their pile to the new place. My battle started on Saturday, gruelingly persevered on body-aching Sunday. Though I continued my normal work today, my whole system did not function to its full capacity. I hungered for rest; I thirst for sleep. I longed for iced lemon tea, my bed and my pillow.

Areas have been maximized. I actually ran out of it that my brain splurted juices to boost my creativity. Stacking up here and there; concealing artifacts with the use of magic; some prattle, chips and water and iced lemon tea, a clip in between, and voila! It is done!

It is a sojourn. There will be a replay next year. But until then, boxes will be forsaken to subconscious reality. I reckon I will have a difficult time recalling their placements. It's okay. Until next year, I will continue to fill in my available spaces, no matter how small they may be, of items that excite me. Double the effort for doubled effort, a challenge I can seize I believe. I will just cross the bridge when I get there again! =)

The Rainbow Venus

Filipinos around the globe rejoiced when the name Venus Raj was uttered by the host. She qualified in the top 5 of the most prestigious Ms Universe 2010. It has been 41 years since the crown was won. The utterance of her name was tantamount to a beacon of light peeping. Everyone was gasping.

People everywhere considered the crown to be rightfully hers. She has the body, the confidence, the looks, the embodiment of a beauty queen. The whole herd of Filipinos was euphoric. The crown would be home, finally.

Until the deciding question was articulated.

Flowers. Flowers would be everywhere. Every part of the road she takes, flowers would be offered. The fragrance of varied flowers would consume the place, while she walks with consummate dignity and elegance, shaking the hands of the masses amazed by her charm. Alongside her success is the country's victory. The Philippine tourism would be put to spotlight again. It would have been free advertisement for the country, with its magnificent views and wonderful, congenial people.  She would have been the most exalted lady, the goddess of the hour. She would have been.

And the question was thrown. She struggled for the answer. The crown slipped.

There are debates in all corners of the world as to the possible right answer to this very personal question. Some mocked her. Disappointment was blatant. They saw her as the country's redemption, after the hostage-taking crisis that shocked the nation and the rest of the world. Imagine the pressure resting on her shoulders, excluding the fact that millions of people who have accepted her as the next in line were anxiously awaiting. There was no time to ponder. Every tick of the clock exuded pressure that was intense. The result? She floundered. She did not directly respond to the question. She gave what she thought was wisest at that moment. Apparently, it was not wise enough.

I saw a report of ABC News about Venus. The question asked of her is a common one thrown during interviews, be it for a job or in a press conference of influential people. They showed a clip of former president George W. Bush, who did not even bother to mull over and expound after asked of the same inquiry. There were a number of media people interviewed using the same question, and most of them, if not all, did not know how to respond. Imagine the same question queried in front of millions with limited time. If you didn't falter, I salute you.

Everyone makes mistakes. Words have been spoken, decisions made. They cannot be retracted. Venus still did the country proud. She might not have taken home the bacon, but she fought well. I did not expect her to even enter the top 5. But she did. And I am glad she did. She somehow changed the moods of the people after a violent storm hit the metro. She is still a rainbow, with or without a major major crown.

MAYderella

I go out. I drink a little. I enjoy the music. I chat with friends. Then I leave when the clock strikes 12.

It is not always the case, though. I try to stay until my feet are sore. But I notice these past few night outs with this particular friend of mine, I am always  the one who leaves early (ooops).  Boredom? Nah. Ambience? Maybe. Concerned that if I linger I might be the next frog princess? A big YES!

Tonight was a repeat. She needed a listening ear, I happily obliged. But when the clock stroke 11, I left. I needed to retire early as I have work tomorrow. It was past my bedtime. So I strutted to the nearest taxi bay and left my good friend in her misery. Bad, May, bad.

The good thing was, another friend joined us. Had it been my friend and me only, I would not be here writing this. I might have been torn into pieces, dilapidated into unrecognizable appearance, in a tug-of-war against her, myself as the rope and the opponent at the other end simultaneously. Or, most likely, being a diplomat with a diplomatic way of concluding a case, I would remain, dawdling with her as she drowns herself on a binge.

Now my clock screams a quarter to 1. And my laptop is running on reserved battery power. Instead of hitting the bed, I am producing words and phrases to fill a space on my blog. I left early, but unable to sleep early. My friend will surely kill me if she finds out about this! :p

Wanted: Rainbow

I was treading on the pages of bits and pieces of my friends' life, where felicity is a daily lifestyle to the extent of habit. I am thrilled to know about it. I am happy for them.  But the sullen situation I have sunk in has begun to envelope me.

Not that I am being negative. I am counting my blessings. I guess this is just that time of the day when I feel everything is not in proper places and I am caught in the middle. Like every minute of my short life is slowly being dragged to the trash bin.

Everyday is the same story: impelling my body to wake up, heavy feet to mechanically direct their way to the bathroom, my numb hands to turn the knob, and my head with its messy crown to feel the cold water flowing, my eyes closed while doing all these that I considered myself to have sleepwalked. It is like a favorite song being heard over and over; the only difference is being the former not transforming into a beautiful dream but a subtle bane, played over and over and over. I'm only human. I get frazzled.

Then why am I not engaging myself with a satisfying way of time spending? The body is willing, my mind and soul are at the brink of soaring. My wings are spread, readying to ascend. But the wind is blowing to a different direction. I stumbled and kissed the ground that I swore to let go.

I tried to alter the situation; fate is not allowing me. I tried again. To no avail. There are horizons far better than my current one, but it seems too far from my grasp. Alas, the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow is but a product of my imagination!

Am I a defeatist? When everything is happening but nothing is transpiring in my part of the universe, I couldn't help but to be. "I need a sign", the music sings. Yeah, I need a sign. I need rain. I need sunshine after the rain.

I need a rainbow after the sunshine after the rain.

Smile

Two friends and I were on a bus, about to alight, as we reached our destination. The last stop of the bus' journey had already been arrived at, and everyone should be disembarking. One fellow was left, sleeping in the corner. And one guy tapped him on the shoulder to awake him. Initially, I thought they were pals. They weren't. Both walked their separate ways after alighting. A stranger patted the other to signal the end of the line.

I was on the verge of the last step of the same bus, one foot forward, oblivious to the person in front of me. I was preparing myself to get off. My friend had already exited the public transport when I saw her extending her hand as if reaching for something or someone. That's when I realized an old lady was in front of me, trembling, maintaining her composure while gripping the pole by her right hand tightly. She was figuring out how to transfer to the other side without tumbling over. When she saw my friend's gestural offer, she wholeheartedly took it. She must have perceived it as manna from above because, until my friend was beyond her peripheral vision, she did not stop expressing gratitude.

Small acts of kindness. God working in mystical way. Trifle to some, enormous to the receiver of the deed. I remember a post on facebook by one of my friends. It said, "Smile, because you never know whose day you are brightening with it." And I nod in total agreement.  

My Diaspora

Two and a half years ago, I departed from my comfort zone and embarked for an unknown territory. I must admit it was not easy. It was not even gracefully done. But here I am, still. Surviving. Even though every time I leave my home country after a short vacation I weep profusely, I still manage to return here.

It is my friend's turn now. Tonight, in fact right at this moment, the plane is preparing for take off. I left a family behind, she'll be leaving children. It must be more difficult for her.

This is the diaspora of the Filipino people. We are close to having a Chinatown in every country we are in. A number of us are scattered everywhere. For greener pasteur, most likely the reason is. We leave all the good things behind for materialization of dreams. At least in my case, my mom's wonderful cooking and great conversations, my brother's immaturely perfect common sense, and my father's listening ear were what I chose to exchange. Sigh. The things I miss.

A week ago, my brother informed me he prepared banana split as 'practice' for the coming Friday's pot luck in their office. Apparently, Friday is the glutton day for them, and he thought of bringing banana split. So he and his girlfriend marched to the nearest grocery store, purchased an ice cream, some fresh bananas, and a chocolate syrup he confidently bragged to me (it's not even Hershey's), and conjured the most dashingly enticing banana split I had ever seen. He showed it through Skype. Misery sinked in. It was his first time to do such and I was not even there to try it. What a thing to miss.

There is no salvation without sacrifice. That's my only consolation. That's our only consolation. The magnitude of coverage, geographically speaking, of the human population commenced when the first occupants started to pack their bags and headed for the unknown. They even travelled barefooted. I have the planes to be thankful for. And the technology that brings me closer to home. At least where I am now is only three hours away. Three travel hours, yet I can only manage to go home once a year. The irony of things.

I know salvation is there, lurking beneath the shadows of my glimmering aspirations. Life is about letting go of 'what ifs', and braving to embrace change as the only medium. I am aware I missed everything; my brother's first pirated pay, my mom's heartaches, my father's hospitalization. But I'm still positive. I look forward to the day when I can feel the rays of the sun touching my face as I wake up in my own bedroom, feeling the warmth of my mom's hand, with the sound of my brother's annoyingly loud voice chorusing with my father's deafening jazzy music in the background. I know this absence is ephemeral.

I Can Still Improve

Just when I thought I possess the knack for writing, I realize mine is elementary!

Being insomniac has its ups and downs. The good part is it gave me opportunity to browse. And browsing was indeed eye-opening.

I reckoned the world evolved around me and everything that mattered to me. Not that I am being self-centered, but hey, this blog is mine after all. But after browsing in the world wide web, I realized that, aside from my friends' experiences, there are other bloggers I can be acquainted with. They contain wonderful ideas that never inhabited my limited thinking. Ideas entirely different from my own and are worth learning from.

Like what I'm doing now. I am trying to twist my brain into producing well-versed thoughts. I am not misanthropic. I am a people person. But when I am in my solitude, I want the other part of me to take charge. I want my contemplative part to do the writing.

It is healthy to be in touch with the narrative, pensive self. And I needed to be inspired to rekindle this genre in me, if that's even what it is.

I hope I'm making sense. ^^