Liv in a Life Well-Lived

I have no idea why I even started writing january drowning. Maybe a part of me believes that I might be too late in this world, but in some other dimension the possibility still exists.

Have you ever felt as if the sea is watching you? That while standing at the shoreline with your gaze transfixed on the glittering surface of the water, somewhere farther beyond what your eyes can see --- the sea is watching. That while you sob or you laugh, while you sing or you whisper softly, somewhere below --- the sea is listening. That while you hurt, at the very heart of it somewhere -- the sea is crying. She does. This is what I have learned. This I'm sure is truth. ONE At the shores of San Pablo, the sand is dark like ground coffee and it is peppered with broken pieces of shells and corals. Sometimes, I squish the sand between my toes. Once,I noticed my feet are pale against the dark ground. TWO I was only ten when I first discovered the cove behind the large boulder at the end of the beach. I was trying to hide from my Nana Josie. I didn't care about getting my pink Barbie shoes wet. I didn't want to go to the hospital. The hospital was where people die. The hospi

ELEVEN I would've gladly ran away with him. I think, back then, I was actually prepared to say yes immediately if only he asked. But I didn't know the weight he was carrying on his shoulders was heavier than most, and he was grounded by the sheer responsibility of it. He had no ability for flight at all. He started his story by asking for my forgiveness. And for the first time, he told me what I probably knew already but only had to hear. He told me that the sea has more than once drowned him. He fell in so deep there was no surfacing from it. He loved me then, when the Sea led him to me. And ever since, he loved me still. But he also knew we were continents apart (if only he knew how wrong he was!), he had to deny what he believed with all the strength of his soul. He had to live some kind of life, and he tried. But paths aren't always true to the intention, and they lie crooked and they double cross. He ended up lost. I have no idea who Anna was. But he told me she's

Why haven't I noticed before that Batangenyos are actually pretty hot ? Well, maybe because I haven't met any one like that in Brgy. As-is being limited as I was to the Elementary School where the motherly principal and unmarried teachers reign supreme. But with this new project trying to assess if Artificial Reefs are viable in the area, I'm working with freaking scuba divers with super buff bods. Well, okay, so not all of them. The Head of the Frogmen of the Coastal Guards looks more like a mini-Erap. Maybe, just one of them. With the loveliest chocolate brown skin. Not handsome, but with shoulders like that, who needs a pretty face? AH. *Olivia drools. * But I'm not finished yet. There's this other guy. Hehe, shorter than I am (surprise!), and he's good-looking. The same chocolate brown skin. Ultra bright smile. He reminds me of someone I know. Maybe somebody I even liked before, I just can't remember who. The tragedy though is that he's already marr

Book in Hand: Atlantis Rising pa rin Song in Mind: Two Become One by Spice Girls (like, can you believe how old this song is?) Word in Mouth: Wow! Buti na lang! SO. Hah! I'm in Fabulous Batangas City. Uhm yeah. Okay, so nothing's really fab here so far from my comfy bed. But I have to be here because of work, and I will take any excuse to travel. Even if it is sodding work . Anyway, it'll be pretty interesting since I get to freaking " suyod " every coastal barangay from Bauan pier to Manghinao in Bauan tomorrow. It doesn't matter how tiring it will be though, I have one damn good reason to smile. I get to stay in a swanky hotel way beyond my means because WE GOT A FREAKING DISCOUNT from one of our usual partners in Batangas. The moment I entered the door, it smelt like money. And the freaking goodie freebies they provide are so unbelievably lootish. I vow to keep bagging them so they will have to replace it every day and I will get four or five by the time I

Book in Hand: Atlantis Rising by Brad Steiger Song in Mind: Sleeps With Butterflies by Tori Amos The best thing about leaving the house early in the morning is that I get to smell what our neighbors are cooking for breakfast. Seriously, now that our car’s aircon has broken down and we have to travel windows down, I get to appreciate the distinct smells of pritong tuyo and bagoong whenever we pass by the clump of houses near our place. Hmmm… sarap. I don’t eat breakfast, or rather, I don’t get to eat breakfast because I can’t bring myself to wake up early enough to have time to do that. But I appreciate the smell of food, whatever time of the day it is. Hah. Shoot. I want tuyo and kamatis with toyo . KIDS IN THE GARDEN We don’t use the car everyday anymore because we’re kind of scrimping on gas. But the days that we do take the car are days I get to extend my sleep inside it. Guiltily, I admit I still don’t know how to drive and Daddy still drives for us (I know, I know! I should be d

Book in Hand: War of the Worlds by HG Wells Song in Mind: Same ground by Kitchie Nadal War of the Worlds IS fantastic. The song Same Ground IS addictive. Ross Geller IS fictional. But epitomizes the kind of guy I want to be with. Of course, late bloomer that I am, I just realized it now. Thing is, he probably does not exist. Not the same smart, sweet, funny and a bit neurotic guy he was on Friends . I've known smart guys who are a bit lacking in the "sweet and thoughtful" factor. I've known sweet guys who just doesn't have the right edge and just end up completely saccharine. I've known neurotic guys... and well, they're neurotic, period. This is probably not healthy, but oh well. Live life dangerously. Hyukhyuk. :) - = - = - = - = - = - = - Anyway, I have been thinking about getting a scholarship for my Masteral Degree. Thing is, I still am a little vague on what degree I want. I do believe it'll be a good career move to study a specialization in Soci

Obsessive-Compulsive. Who me? Not characteristically. Although I guess there is a tiny sliver of a tendency for me to become one. It is often drowned out by my stronger urge to just wing it, but sometimes, the sliver expands and elongates until it compels me to act... ACT....NOW. Went on an OC streak last night and cleaned my office desk. By that I meant spent three hours and a half filing (yuccch), organizing, throwing away things I don't need anymore. I just wanted to get rid of the clutter because it's clouding my mind. The end result was an amazingly clean desk. I still have to organize some of the remaining loose files in my incoming and outgoing tray, but that's like what? A half hour's work and I've slated tomorrow night for that. I'm so relieved all the mess is gone. Even if work still bites, I can actually breathe so much easier now. I've also been noticing I write slower now, with an urge to perfect the curves of my handwriting. Me. Who could scri

I've been told that Recto is a haven for bookworms, for the simple fact that the whole avenue is practically lined with second hand bookstores. For so long, I've considered it as uncharted territory. It's ironic that I work so close to the area and yet I've never even found the time to take a quick peek around. So, yesterday, armed with P500 and psyched to walk the whole afternoon, if need be, I went on a field trip! I went to La Salle first to submit the grades for C1, as an excuse to go out. (An excuse for myself, because without another purpose, I would've chickened out of the whole thing). Then, at around 11:00, I rode an FX, got down at Morayta, and walked to Recto Avenue. Boy, they weren't kidding! The streets ARE lined with bookstores. They sell books at the sidewalk! Tambak-tambak lang sila doon. Of course, most of the books are so old that the pages are browned to the spine and in great danger of crumbling to dust. It doesn't matter to me. :) At the

I dreamt about work last night. Hay, of all the things to dream naman… Sometimes all I really want is to break away. I’m not really sure why I’m feeling so lousy at work. I do try my best. I’ve been pepping myself up deliberately, with cheerleader-type determination. I take it as my fault that I just can’t seem to break a silver lining. Geezuz, I must not be cheery enough… But if I force a bigger smile on my face, I’d split my head in two. :) I don’t seem to be growing stronger in this environment nga lang. Oh well, smile na lang. Kahit na I’m going, hehe, my favorite term, nucking futs. It’s another day. Wish me luck. I can hear my seven hundred imaginary cheerleaders screaming at me to pump it up! Bejeez, I might need to add a couple of hundred more voices in there... SMILE!

This is what I could be. I cannot erase the mistakes I’ve made in the past, but I can learn from them. Better. I can take the tears I’ve shed the past months, the past years, and transform them into a brightly shining sea. Better. I can take the hurt I felt when I loved and was not loved back and use it to remind myself that I have been to that place where love was a comfort and a protection from the harshness of reality. Better. I can remember the pain of the healing wound and use it as a reminder for more caution the next time, but not too much that I imprison myself in a dreary cell just so to run from love. Better. I can put all my angst about the hardships of life in clay and use it to construct a woman that is a fiber stronger than most. Better. I can do away with whines and gripes about work and use it as a refining fire to sharpen the tools in my shed. Better. I can slink away from the heavy cloaks of Despair, the clutches of a life-snuffing hell, and choose a path to the realm

What makes a good book? And do good books make good movies? These issues have always arisen from movie adaptations of famous works of literature. Classical works have always translated well into film, since they cater to a specific audience and are usually done more in the spirit of artistic and creative exercise than commercial venture. In the Fantasy genre, the Lord of the Rings translated very well on the big screen. It's almost the same case with the screen adaptation of the Harry Potter series. They were done with taste, credence and a certain amount of respect for the orginal version of the book they were trying to capitalize on. Now, the Earthsea Cycle to me is an exceptional feat in the genre, and it belongs up there right beside LOTR. For those who haven't read the Cycle yet, let me just describe it as a book written by Ursula Le Guin, where wizards and dragons, sorceresses and princes are caught in a cycle of searching and finding. The story starts with young Ged in t

Back when I was taking Psych 155 (Abnormal Psychology) in UP, our professor told us to NEVER EVER dare to diagnose oneself. She says we will probably end up claiming we are all psychotic schizophrenics with manic depressive tendencies. I guess what she meant was we all have quirks which we think are faults; we have a tendency to over-relate things and its relevance to our lives. The value of the shrink is her/his ability to distance himself from the client and to objectively assess the more applicable abnormal psychology afflicting them. I hold on dear to that logic just so I can say I'm not a schizo manic-depressive with suicidal tendencies. I mean, I can't be that crazy, right? Wait, better not answer that, not even in your mind. I'm just wondering about this because my workmate was griping today about a friend of his who he believes is mentally imbalanced. He let me read the girl's ranting and I got a little scared because she sounded like me when I go on my existent

Hmm... I might have been a bit misunderstood... :) The "flowering surprise" entry wasn't in any way meant to be romantic. The way I can define it was that... well, i was pleasantly surprised then it became a stronger, more pleasant surprise to see JP again. Parang ganito: "Si Jayps ba yun?" "Uy, siya nga!" "Ano ginagawa niya dito? Ang galing!" "Teka, batiin ko... kung matatapos lang ang cellphone call ng boss ko." (I was talking to my supervisor when I saw him) Then we talked and I left smiling, reminiscent of the good old days. Ganun ba ga. Ganun lang. And anyway, I know him well enough to know that he's taken and he adores the girl he's with. Hehe... to the utter chagrin of some of my girl friends. :)

I met an old college buddy today, after four years of not seeing him. Weird. It felt like that corny prose, "A flowering surprise..." I never understood that phrase until today. It wasn't as if we were very close, but we knew each other well enough. We did have a couple of good laughs and good memories to bring about a smile whenever it is remembered. That could have brought about the pleasant feeling when I saw him like a friendly ghost from the past. :) Another thing I suddenly understood was why he was so damn popular back in those days. Geez, he was cute then and girls giggle a lot around him. But I guess, now, he's just plain handsome. When we talked, he was still the same funny, sweet guy na mejo makulit. Now, it's a bit tempered though. A bit mellowed down. All grown up? I never thought I'd see the day. :) On another note, I saw something incredible on the way home tonight. We were passing in front of UST in Espana and I saw a woman slumped down on the

Find below an excerpt from my diary back when I was ten years old. Just for the sake of preserving the memory, I have edited nothing. Find it as I have written it in 1992. Day: Thursday Date: Feb. 20.92 Time: 2:30 p.m. Dear Diary, Me gusto akong itanong bakit ba sunod-sunod ang araw at parang me hinihintay minsan parang walang hinihintay parang walang lugar, walang sinusunod. Gusto ko sanang itanong at malaman ang sagot. Love, Olivia Obviously, these were the days before I became better acquainted with punctuation marks. :) . For the life of me, I can't remember what brought about this question back then. Was it just like today? Just five minutes ago, I heard Mummy mutter "Hay, Salamat po Diyos Ko, tapos na naman ang linggo... ." And I realized that to her, life is measured by the week. More specifically, by the number of Tuesdays and Thursdays that passes by (note: she only teach classes on those days). A fleeting thought jarred me enough to ask, "Waiting for what?&

It's like a burning sun at the center of your very soul. It serves as miracle fuel to last you through that critical second where failure is almost upon you. When tears threaten to fall, harder than the Niagara, it's the words that comfort you. The warmth of it extends until it becomes a rope you could grab on to -- a lifeline for the meantime. At the darkest point of your day, when the light is eclipsed by despair, it is an illumination of hope. It reminds us that the sham and drudgery of the world is but temporal, and our capacity for beauty is divine. This is the Soul that I know. It is the Grace that I seek to remain in. My whole life is for this Fire of a thousand stars. This Cosmic matter that is me. The god inside me that tries everyday to reflect the God who made me. And thus, we are acosted. Thus, we are tried, stretched from end to end -- painful existence awaits our years ahead. But intermediary to the woe are the Moments of Grace which sustains us. Through this we m