YOUR BELIEF

WHEN LURKING TAKES ITS TOLL

You live in this imaginary tale of an unproclaimed cynic. Stricken with an enormous will to live within the boundary of the norm; yet in your pursuit of truth, you find yourself devious, eluding from the line.

What kind of reason justifies one’s sickening desparation? What makes up one’s desparation in life?
When you wake up one summer morning and you see that your youth is fleeing and you panic in the absence of one important light in your life, nothing will ever be complete. YOu have the whole world to give and while you see your offspring with you, you say to yourself", you must be complete."
Everyday, that’s how you condition you rmind and everyday, you end up lurking in a sea of sadness because you know it could have been better but there’s nothing you can do.

You dedicate your life to the two most important people - your daughters- envisioning their future, wailful that you might not triumph in giving them the best in life but still working hard to give them everything that they want and you somehow become good at it.You tell yourself: if you will be weak, where else can they get strength from?
Your lives revolve around each other - you and them. Your love is incomparable like that of God’s - never giving up, protecting.
And you forget about yourself.

In the safe confine of solitude, you feel your heart bleeding. Nobody sees it except your soul.Solitude is golden…You reckon the words said of Francis : as gold is tested in fire, so is love in pain. Which kind of reminds you of the analogies in your college aptitude test when you had to determine the given pattern to find the correct answer. Haha.

And so you go on and on enunciating what you’ve given of so unselfishly: sincerity and trust. And it sometimes drives you to contemplate on why you seem to always fail in getting what you deserve.
You are loved by your family, surrounded by friends who truly treasure you and whom you cherish over the years. They love you to pieces.

What else is there to long for? Hmmm.
Perhaps having to wake up alone for the longest summer and spring (like there is..). Haha. Nobody to kiss your forehead when you need to deviate to your child-like tantrum once in a while. Or that quiet taking by the hand of the person who could have been your sole company when you’re sick and you need a hand to walk you to the loo.
Or maybe somebody to nag with your senseless, incessant blabbing while watching CNN…Well…Small things that could mean the world, of which you were denied by fate.

Funny as it may seem, but every single night you’re in this oblivious struggle of closing your eyes, embracing your favorite Strinne-green patterned Ikea pillow sent by the man you married 12 years ago. And it lulls you to your temporary comfort.
It’s your euphemism to liberty and sadness.

You wish.

(a letter to myself by my soul in astral projection..)

MY ANSWER TO YOUR “FOR THE UNSUNG HEROES”

If God had given fate its freedom for you to touch my life again, it could be now.You made me rediscover what is it that I wanted in my life, even if it meant endangering my material gain… You are always my inspiration…
The one responsible for the RENEWAL OF MY SOUL…
It’s still a puzzle how you do it… But it suddenly changed the course of my life… A change that will no longer be erased from my memory..

I found strength knowing your ART and your WISDOM… Two of the most beautiful things about you that I will retain in my mind’s eye…
Far from the YOU that I saw as a young man struggling to gain them…
You opened up my soul with what you said to me and from what other people said about you…

I pray that you will be one of my anchors to this ship that is my life, keeping it buoyant and still, in the sea of time…With your friendship that I believe has never faded in the years when there was complete absence between us…We didn’t see it, but it was always there, floating…

What grips me might not touch you at all, but I will always see you as the only person who BELIEVED in me so much that I can feel it with my heart and mind.

Even if you remain my nemesis…

My exact opposite.

The NO to my YES.

Don’t we have our common ground?

I will always look forward to that prologue you wanted me to write for you, albeit another five years of waiting due to your very time-constrained activities and occasional loss of memory..:)

So I say then… For believing in what I can do with God’s gift to me, coming from somebody who always contradicted my belief in favor of his bohemian ideology…

THANK YOU.

I dream about it now…

(written and posted on my site on June 10, 2004 - with 1 edited sentence to keep it updated with your "For The Unsung Heroes" posting today.
I want you to know I never tire of thanking you, weaving wonderful dreams about you when you were younger and silly *gRiN*, and making myself believe that our friendship will sail through time. Has it been long? Yes.)

www.bittersweetcharisse.blogspot.com 07.08.05

My Baguio Heyday : Drunk, Cheesy and Uplifted By Some Of My Favorite People

For two days, I was up there in the mountains, never minding the harshness of long travel. Mountains for me is Baguio.Where peace was real, vivid and at arm’s length.
Finally. I said to myself,I was back. After months of painful ordeal, I was finally back.

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Was it Saturday, March 18th?

I had Sam waiting for me at U.P. Baguio. I was so fortunate for having been offered her own place to stay in for two days. I met Sam through Benjo last November (I honestly do not give a damn whatever reaction this statement would trigger from whoever else. I mean, this is my refuge, my own territory. Whatever I write is all patented in the most creative way. Haha).
And from then, Sam and I have been closer than I can ever imagine.
That will be another chronicle! My story of Sam will take me back to our
nights in my house when she’s in Manila, our lonnnggg conversations on communism (haha), on her bestfriend Rica, on somebody she named Kapos..Haha..Later!

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UNE.

Got all  photos  taken on Saturday night at Bistro Salud. Unfortunately, my photo host (photobucket) is not compatible with this blog so I could not paste the tags here. Gotta save them one by one again in my file…Joe invited me to the art exhibit on feminism where Sam and Ezra showed their paintings and crafts with other women artists of Baguio.

Sam P. with her art: hand-painted bottle made from resin.

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DEUX : PERFUMED NIGHTMARE? Nah…

It was a blast : poetry reading, tete-a-tete with : Eric de Guia a.k.a. Kidlat Tahimik ( I’d like to thank Joe, salamat po! haha)…For which, I had a few feeling-close-shots. Hehe.

Well…
I was fortunate to have this moment with him, like a short film that happened in the length of a three-minute pop song, as I quote Ethan Hawke in Before Sunset.
Ethan was right, it was just like a moment within a moment. He was there sharing his deep thoughts with me and my soul was in astral projection, going back to my freshman year in U.P. as I watched him having a talk in front of Film Students ( I was with my friend Eric - he was his student)- none of the gray hair that you see now.
Kidlat Tahimik. Silent Lightning. Doesn’t that truly bespeaks him?
He told me of "mga duwende sa ating mga puso (dwarves in our hearts)."
No matter what, it will always come out without us knowing.
Perhaps he spoke of innate creativity. Just like the Personal Legend that The Alchemist was trying to define. And Kidlat was right. Follow your passion, seek your dream. And even if you deny yourself of that innate passion, it will lead its way out of your being, so you could share it with the world.

For a moment, I was mesmerized. This quiet strength in human form reminded me of Paulo Coelho. *GrIn*

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NEXT CHAPTER.
Didn’t I know that you ever played the percussions, Joe?!
That was verrryyyy cool.

This is not yet done.
More overhauling to come.
Got a load of photos to be posted.

I’m deluded by sleep. Later.

www.bittersweetcharisse.blogspot.com  03.21.05

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CRUEL THOUGHTS OF A CELIBATE THINKER

This is one of those countless moments when I’d lose my synapses.How can I guard myself from this crippling sound of silence? I turned to my both sides of bed.. I see Roxeanne to my left and Wam to my right, calmly asleep. When you watch your children sleep, you learn to appreciate the sound of their breathing…How it elevates you to another plane…And if I were to speak of a day’s momentum, this must be it for me.

But then, as it is for one lonely, vagabond soul fighting for the true meaning of her life, I see my heart longing for that voice to call my name in between my sleeping and waking moments…A silen kiss on my forehead..Two arms whose reach could stretch on to touch my life’s lowest point, and lift it…If I sleep now, my dreams would be the same. As I traverse this endless path of sadness symbolized by a cabinet with nary a shadow of even one piece of male’s underwear. How will that transpire?

All the time I spent fighting for meaning in everything I do. Everyday, I carry that burden. If only for a while I could metamorphose each burden into a moment of peace and solace, I could have laughed longer…and real..Like remembering my childhood and the first time I heard my firstborn cry. If I could freeze each moment onto forever.

Makes me deal with this ethereally. And I have been, for the last 6 years! Damn.

www.bittersweetcharisse.blogspot.com 01.18.05