Remember that one time I broke into your laptop while you were sleeping just to get your version of StickyNotes because it looked cooler? Hmm you probably didn’t even know, so don’t answer that. Anyway, don’t worry I didn’t do anything else.. Except try to open your Word documents, which to my dismay were password-protected (ugh) Your laptop password was easy enough, given how at the time you hadn’t yet changed it since the last time you lent your laptop to me at that cafe in the mall. But you were sleeping when I pried it open, and to be honest I was more interested in lying down beside you than seeing anything in your laptop (though that would have been interesting, too). While there had been quite a few times that we lay beside each other and sometimes fell asleep next to each other, I never found out if any of it meant anything. I had loved you back then, I did; very much so. And it drove me insane how close we were to each other—living in the same space, eating the same food, sometimes even sleeping in the same bed—but how nothing everything in between us was. Nowadays I still see you around, but it’s not the same anymore. After having lived together for a semester (it was our first semester in college, all of us in that house) and coming to a somewhat deaed end, we had already known each other’s demons when we parted ways, and I guess that served us all for the better. Now you still talk to me, in your trademark chummy way, but I don’t really feel anything anymore, except for a weird longing for the knowledge of the goings-on in that parallel universe where the two of us lay in bed, tangled up in each other’s arms and breaths, dreams. I’m still using the StickyNotes version I stole from you in your sleep, though.
it wears her out
it wears her out
if I could be who you wanted
if I could be who you wanted all the time
—“Fake Plastic Tree” by Radiohead
Ayoko nang bumalik ng Baguio. Ayoko nang makita ulit ang UPB ng siguro dalawang taon. Ayoko nang makakita ng mga mukha na kailangan kong ngitian at kausapin ng ilang oras. Ayoko nang bumiyahe ng madaling araw para makaabot sa isang klase kung saan makikipagkwentuhan lang sa’yo ang prof. Ayoko nang maghilamos ng malamig na tubig. Ayoko nang tumunganga ng ilang oras sa kwarto, iniisip kung paano ba nangyaring natambakan ako ng gagawin at naubusan ako ng utak (at pera). Ayoko nang gumising ng maaga para lang mawalan ng gana pumasok sa loob ng ilang minuto. Ayoko nang kabahan sa pagdilat kada umaga.
Ayoko nang magpanggap na gusto ko pa ang buhay kahit paulit-ulit lang ang lahat.
Post bilang pag-alala sa huling akyat ko pa-Baguio mula Manila ngayong semestre, at sa panahon ng matinding pag-aasam ng pahinga.
passing the days
looking over the buildings
time seems to stop
while the millions keep moving
now here I am
I’m a drop in your ocean
noise in the crowd
pushing through your halls of reason
so throw me a line
somebody out there help me
I’m on my own
I’m on my own
throw me a line
afraid that I have come here
to win you again
with trembling hands
—”Trembling Hands” by The Temper Trap
I feel like I should get back to this blog more. It’s been difficult not being able to post things when I want to due to the damn internet connection at the boarding house—honestly, I’d have been better off if they cut off the wifi altogether rather than have it sit there like an ugly trinket taunting me with its uselessness—and I had noticed that Facebook was once again becoming my go-to outlet for ideas and interesting finds, though nowhere near my old Facebook addiction. It’s actually a lot healthier now, and my Tumblring has been a good thing too. These social media serve to add to my knowledge because of the info they bring within my reach, plus a little social interaction to strengthen real-world friendships and connections. They’re great, honestly. I just feel that this blog should still be my priority, and that if I have things to say, it really ought to go here and not anywhere else, because this is the designated place for those things. Information gathering is to be done on those sites, and information translation or output is to be placed here supposedly. This site is a little difficult to navigate—especially if you want to make a multimedia post that expresses feelings and states of mind accurately—when the internet connection is so flimsy it can only hold up to about 3 minutes of scrolling before it breaks down completely for the next few days.
My mom saw my cuts the other day. She didn’t yell, or lose her head. Not at all. She sounded more irritated than anything, like she couldn’t believe the sort of immature thing I had done. She did tell me how crazy it is, though, and how I’m not, and that the only one who can make me better is myself, and that I have total control of what my brain does.
This is one of those times when my mom becomes a part of the human populace in general, and is a perfect example of why I don’t like talking to people too much: what they say almost always makes little to no sense to me, and it gets me frustrated.
I don’t think I have told this blog that the reason I became obsessed with skies for a time was you. It’s probably an omen of something good that I have been taking less and less photos of skies—though that’s not to say that I don’t love skies truly, because I do. It’s just that now I know which skies to treasure and which ones to let slip and eventually forget.
My brain is truly determined to cram every single academic requirement I need to finish this sem into the last milliseconds of their deadlines. I don’t know what stimulates this kind of thinking, that I don’t have to hurry even if the deadline’s in a couple of days because I don’t need a lot of time anyway, cramming has always gotten the shit done so there’s no need to panic, my work often turns out good even if it was done in less than a few hours. Excessive overconfidence? A sort of loosely-masked panic paralysis? Last night I remember having said something about needing to definitely get my shit together today, and I swear to god when I said that I was not expecting to say it again today, but here I go: I need to get this thing over and done with tomorrow, because tomorrow’s Monday and there’s seriously no time for me to go on believing that some miracle will happen in the last few seconds before all my deadlines. It’s just not gonna happen. So maybe this time, I’m serious.
I also saw Love In The Time Of Cholera last week, around a few days before watching The Hobbit. I had been reading Villa’s Selected Stories prior, and was so deeply moved by the stories’ restrained romance and depictions of the solitude of humanity that I felt I had to make the feeling last somehow. I remembered that I haven’t finished the movie since the last time I attempted to view it (I fell asleep at some point) so I pressed play and let myself be drowned in it. Unax Ugalde and Giovanna Mezzogiorno were beautiful and perfect, but what really made my heart leap and do backflips and cry in a corner was Javier Bardem and his goddamn eyelashes and RDJ-ish face. The story itself was heartbreakingly beautiful (syempre Gabriel Garcia Marquez ba naman e) and I am not ashamed to say that I laughed and cried my heart out to this movie more than any others I have seen in a while. The images were beautiful, and I didn’t even mind the three hour runtime, because it was worth every second.
Nearly 20 minutes to 1AM and I’m still up rambling. Maybe I should do this for a living.
I can’t wait for this semester to end. Seriously, I am agitated merely by the thought of having to spend two more weeks in school, and the worst ones of the semester at that. I keep waiting for the days to just skid by in the periphery, like how we always imagine time passing; I wish it could go by without me having to look at it. The wait is boring, especially if there’s nothing to do. But there are things to be done, and a whole lot of them, too. I can’t even think of starting on them, though. I guess it’s the usual shit, you know; the procrastination, the overestimation of cramming abilities, the lack of ideas in general, and the now totally burnt-out self-starter that had been thin from the get-go. And I don’t even know what I’m looking forward to exactly. The idea of repose? The things I’ve been planning to do but can’t during school days, with the pretense of prioritizing academics when in truth studying is only ever done in the couple days before any deadline? The family that I miss when I’m not here, but loathe whenever it bursts into flames randomly and regenerates after, as if nothing happened, like a fucking ragged phoenix? The boredom that consumes me each and every single time I’ve had to stay unmoving in a place for longer than a few weeks? I don’t know what I want, and I don’t know what I’m waiting for. What I do know, though, is that I am not getting anything done soon enough, and I will be paying for this once again with tears and soul-rending feelings of inadequacy as an intellectual.
[randomly develops aggressive crush on Jim Morrison]