Liv in a Life Well-Lived

He smelled like rain. He walked past me and his scent reminded me of open windows and twilight. Of water dripping and umbrellas drying in the hallway. I didn't think I would have such a reaction to these, but it opened up a hunger inside me that made me want to swallow raindrops and reach for thunder. I want to embrace the lightning I saw when he passed me by. These yearnings, they make me almost believe I am still alive --- that I have a heart that is yet to love and that there is a future yet to be lived. It almost convinces me that one day, I will open a door and realize what stood there was the reason why I had been living my life. One night, I might look up at the sky and just know, all of a sudden, that life is complete. These are the things the dead dreams off: the flame that gives off warmth; the touch affirming the capacity to feel. The intensity of need --- for reality to bend and make one live again after having died and suffer existing all the same. It's like a perp

He wrapped his arms around my waist, his chin on my shoulder. "I think I have to let you go..." My heart skipped a beat, too afraid to understand if its pain or elation I'm feeling. "What?" I asked. He buried his face at my nape. "Don't think I haven't noticed... you've got that far-off look in your eyes, like a bird trapped in a cage. And... you haven't written anything the few months we've been together." "I was taking a rest... I was..." I weakly replied. "You were uninspired." he finished for me. And my silence was all he needed to confirm it was true. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-==-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-==-=-=-

I was browsing through a friend's blog and saw the quote from the movie The Holiday: Arthur Abbott: Iris, in the movies, we have leading ladies and we have the best friend. You, I can tell, are a leading lady, but for some reason, you're behaving like the best friend. Shoot. So, can somebody tell me how NOT to be the best friend? It gets tiring, y'know, all that moral support, cheer-up-chummy thing we "best friends" do. You all think it's easy? It takes selflessness and non-exclusive capacity to understand people to do all that foolishness. You think it doesn't put a weight on our shoulders? The weight of being a best friend is in the heart. You get emotionally tied down without the benefit of having... whatever benefits. Darn if I know. Because for some reason, Fate has chalked me down as a "best friend." And all my life all I know is how to be pleasant and agreeable and reliable. And all I can remember is the sound of my heart twisting everyti

A big box of Crayola. I think I want to do colouring books. I think I want to color something magenta and aquamarine. I guess I need to de-stress. Oh boy, you don't know the week I had. Yesterday, I almost self-destructed in the office. I was snappish and incoherent. I was drowning with all that camp crap that I can't think straight anymore. Good thing Ian helped down a save. While everybody else went out, in the blistering heat, to have lunch, he decided to stay. He also hates the heat as much as I do. He waited for me to finish, and I knew that was a sacrifice because he's been complaining about his hunger since 10:30 a.m. and I got done around 11:45. Don't know why, but it made me realize I shouldn't be a total bitch. I calmed down. Today, I got hit by the flu. Feverish, cold sweats, et.al. I took the day-off, but guess what? I worked the landline AND my cellphone (sometimes at the same time!) contacting people, typed all afternoon, and even now, I just had to ta

I Like Singing along with Regine Velasquez and Pretend Its My Voice I'm Hearing.

We are born into the world amazed of things we do not understand. We imagine it as magic, or unknowable, or impenetrable. And for a long time, from childhood to adolescence, we accept it as it is. But at one point, you will tire of accepting things the way they are and you will start to seek and search; you turn things upside down, perhaps to see if you can still put it back together the right way up. The day I saw where the starting line was and understood how I figured in the scheme of things was the day when I realized my Mother was human. Just human. The world shifted, but it was a good change. The day I heard the story of her life made her feel more accessible and less of a god-person. It made me realize that we ALL have to make our way through life, mistakes and all. She told me of her impoverished childhood and the humiliation she encountered from their snobbish Kapampangan relatives. It didn't help that she looked mestiza; it made their poverty even more ironic and ridiculo

Book in Hand: Blackbird House by Alice Hoffman Song in Mind: Wake Up Call by Maroon 5 I don't know why, but this image really strikes me. Maybe it's how the girl is leaning in closely towards the book as if she's being devoured by the story itself. Or it's as if she's trying so hard to put herself inside the time and place she's reading about, an escape from wherever she may be. Lovely. It's all the reasons why I love reading too. Take me away and never bring me back.

Have you ever met someone you immediately are smitten of, but you know deep down inside they could never ever be yours? Wait, wait, wait lang... Before you smother me with your "Where's your fighting spirit, girl!" and "Para kang baliw! Trust The SECRET: want it bad enough and it'll be yours!"... Before all that crap, listen to me. Some things are just true. Not for you. I know it's a no-way when even my brilliant imagination fails me. No matter how hard I try, I cannot imagine him mine. I have better chances of imagining Prince William stepping down from his throne to marry the Catholic girl that I am. Yes, it's that implausible. And it irks me sooooo bad. Call it the inner spoiled brat: I just simply am not used to being helpless about something. It's so hard to swallow that some things you just can't do anything about. After being spoon fed about girl power and wish power, it's a hard lesson to learn that some things you just have to s

I was lying in bed already when Gabe came in to say sorry for fighting with me earlier this night. He hugged me so tightly and I melted and now we're okay again. But his hug reminded me of something.... It took me a moment to remember. I might have been subconsciously hoping that Gabe finds comfort in my arms the same way I found comfort in the arms of my parents. Then it brought me there, to that pinnacle of memories, and I was stunned by how long it took me to remember --- How did it feel to be hugged by them again? When was it the last time I hugged them? How did it feel again to hold their hands? What was their skin like again? Were their hair soft or coarse? I have vague memories of warmth and softness, but the physicality of it evades me now. There was one night when Daddy, Mummy, Ella and I were in the same room, sleeping on a small twin bed. We were like sardines atop one another. But nobody complained. I remember that I sat up on a chair and watched them sleep. I listened

Book in Hand: The Third Secret by Steve Berry (on loan from Bing's husband) Did not mean to blog so early in the morning. But I had one of those strange night time occurences again and I've been fighting off sleep at least until sunrise. Just to be on the safe side. I wish I could read my borrowed book, but I have temporarily lost my appetite for anything else but the latest Dresden Files. I've heard Small Favor (I think the 10th in the series) is coming out this month in the US. That probably means I have to wait til next month to get my hands on it. Meanwhile, the 3rd Secret isn't so bad. It's about the last secret Our Lady supposedly divulged to Lucia in Fatima. Funny, I remember reading the documentary book about that divine apparition back when I was 12. I remembered getting so freaked out for my soul that I spent every minute worrying I won't get to heaven because I wasn't reciting the rosary as much as I ought to. Heh. I still worry. My aunt cleaned o

I did not parasail or zipline. But no use pretending I'm too comatosed to try at least 1 adventure sport: white water rafting. Not bad actually. I did live to tell the tale.. :) Rabids win. Sep, moi, Yel, and Dre One high paddle... Kulang na lang daw... loofah... Yey! We were so wearing the wrong outfits... we were about to bake under the sun for 4 hours and we were wearing shorts.... ha! Buti na lang I was wearing sunblock that's spf 75. Dre was wearing SPF 5... I don't think that could even protect you from a heated eye-glare. Guess who ended up charcoal-black? Book in Hand: Song in Mind:

Something's telling me it's going to be one loooong summer. Overheating had always been my weakness. I am tempted to never walk under the sun ever again. It doesn't help that I'm pressed at work as well. I should call down from heaven that Olivia who used to handle everything efficiently. But I'm sooo far from that girl right now. She's merely a shadow of my former self. And right now, with this danged summer, shadows are the last thing I can see.

Yeah, I hate summer. But not when I'm in the beach. Below are pics I took with my camphone when we went to various beaches. Yeah, beach bum who hates the sun. Irony abounds. Puerto Galera with workmates Nice view from afar... But it kind of sucks when you're on White Beach already. The mass of humanity, erck. Marcelle, Bing and Tita Remy inside the ferry to White Beach Ian with JBart. Yeah, J's in PBSP na rin (he was my college classmate). Cool. Bing and I, chillin' at the bar... or the closest we got to it. Beauuuutifuuul CAMIGUIN!!! Sunrise at Camiguin's White BEach, infinitely better than Galera... Polvoron sand.... niceness! Dre, Yel and Sep ( yeah, we're into three-lettered nicknames) playing at being mermaids... or doing beach yoga. I get confused. Mount Hibok-hibok at the background, taken from the sandbar. At the sunken cemetery.... At the cold waterfalls... the water was so freakin' cold.... Nasugbu, Batangas Beauty --- but just don't go in