no colder than
It's a rivalry of sorts---
Her in the rain,
Flooded, half-blue,
Unmoving,
Versus the flowing downpour,
Annoyed that she wouldn't surrender.
Chill her.
Move her.
Make her.
She stays,
Misted eyes and white-knuckled fingers
Gripping, groping at, no,
Groping for...
Scene flickers.
Split-second nothings between frames.
And her translucent breath of a whisper
Doesn't drown in the riot of water,
As she says,
This is warm.
brilliant, careless moi
It's 4:00am now.
I just finished reading up on and writing a one-page paper on The Separation of the Church and the State for five dollars, when I realized that the one who had requested this paper of me had uploaded an article on the topic that I'm just supposed to summarize.
My brilliance amazes me.
Oh well. It's fun anyway. ^^
too much to hope for
It's too much to hope for that the things we do will have consequences only on us. Whether we try to escape them or take the whole load on our shoulders, we never end up alone with ourselves. Say "it's my life" and you're being unfair. Say "it's my problem" and you're lying. Say "no one can help me" and you're being selfish. No one can help affecting others. Living means not being alone. We're never alone. That's a happy thought, when you think about it, a good thing. But, more than that, it's a responsibility. Mattering to others is a responsibility. If we let ourselves down, then we let others down, and vice versa. It's an intricate, difficult, beautiful thing.
I guess that's why we need to look for a different kind of freedom besides breaking away from popular opinion and catering to our individualities and indulgences. We can never be fully dislodged. Be free without being selfish. Be selfless without losing yourself.
Es muy dificil.
hoping and coping
excerpt from my English 11 reflection paper on the movie, The Mighty (1998):
"We live in a world of much drama. Tragedies and comedies abound. The Mighty plays out a piece from this world. We see there very familiar things: love, friendship, loss, people facing things, people coping with things, people learning, and more. Life's like that. We need to find ways to keep going, because, despite injuries, casualties, and wounds, there are still so many things that we could bump into along the way. Kevin and Max never knew that someday a special friendship would form between them. There was no tangible promise of good things to come during the course of their earlier traumas and struggles, but they didn't give up. Then they came to the day that they found the best kind of friend in each other—that was the prize.
These coping mechanisms, this is what they are for: so we could move on and find more to live for in life, even when we're knee-deep in mud. We find outlets so we can unload unnecessary pressures in the journey, so we can be refilled with better things. There is such a thing as hope and it propels us forward. It keeps us groping and going, finding our own fuel in literature or arts or any other media that we never really acknowledged could save a life.
This is us. The Mighty features us—we with our struggles and victories. It features our disabilities, our insecurities, and our traumas. It features our potentials, our redemption. It tells us, we are people, and there is plenty of strength we can find in the world and in ourselves, just within reach and ripe for easy picking."
-----
hmmm. just thoughts pondered and gleaned. what do you think? O_o
linger
odd thought.
try to linger a little bit on a particular moment in time, a particular joy or a particular sorrow. linger a while, reliving it. linger, and then you realize things have moved on without you.
but you can't regret it. you can't regret pulling back a bit and holding that slice of time in your hand a while, missing out on all the other little slices happening, not stopping for you. you don't mind, because looking back and embracing a particular moment perhaps a tad longer than you should is a joy in itself.
why not. it's a special slice.
the significance of now
Our everyday lives and way of living matters.
We learn from the past and look forward to the future, but the present is where all that we have learned and all that we hope for converge.
What or Who we decide to be Now, is always the sum of all that we are and hope to be.
That is why our choices matter.
- Tatay Ernie Abella
-----
beautiful and true. spot on.
consequences
Flood. That's what it is. Flood. Not the kind of flood that builds up during strong rains; rather, flood like a trepanned dam, bursting, paralyzing you and then knocking you over. Flood like a tide. Flood like a wave. Flood like glaring sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows.
That is the kinetics of consequence.
dissection
This is something written by someone who finally acknowledged she was flat-out wrong about a few things, and that she must face consequences for her actions. She has been humbled.
-----
It's not my intention to confuse people. I said people are strong and then here i say, little human. Hell? Well, both are right. People just need to know how to handle it and strike a balance. There's a difference between being strong and being complacent about it.
I wrote this around the same time as the carnapping incident. But, during that time, the taking of the car wasn't the only thing I had on me. Thoughts flickered here and there, and I wanted to escape them all. Yes. Escape. Or justify them---all my hangups and struggles, stuff I've been futilely evading. And everything just seemed to converge that night, when one of my comfort zones was ripped from me. Finally, I was forced into facing myself.
Now, I know better.
And it's still hard.
-----
"Maybe we need to break everything in order to make something better of ourselves." -Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club
Little human. Always hoping for an easy way out. You wish. People rarely ever get off easily when they know they deserve some form of reprimand for something that they should not have done. Try and hope, little human. Pretend for a few moments that you don't see it coming. Don't wonder why when it finally jumps at you and, for some reason, you don't feel surprised.
Picture the soul made of something like glass. Picture spiderweb cracks. The little human is aware of it, and the little human tries to hold it all together for as long as the little human could. Then things finally fall apart, and the little human begins to learn and understand things. The little human finally finds the courage to pick up pieces that have been waiting, just waiting, for picking. Never out of sight.
Maybe answers are always there. Glaringly, blatantly there. People pretend to search, but maybe they're just lying. Maybe they're just trying to find better, easier things. Yes, easier things.
--- written 04 July 2007
power
Something I mulled over while crossing the street. Well...a part of this anyway.
People don't just heal. They are healed. Yeah. Someone does it. Someone begins the healing---the Hand that has been on your shoulder the whole time; it finally squeezes you back to Hope. Back to Faith. Back to Warmth. People find strength to move on and pick up pieces, because there is a Source of strength that has been waiting for them to draw this whole time.
It's amazing, how strong people could be without their knowing it, how they could move forward and not even realize that they have already gotten somewhere. They just figure it out when the moment comes when they realize, hey, I'm looking back! That means it's actually over! It's fascinating. People are strong, because all it takes to be strong is a desire to be strong. They desire to get up and they do. They decide to go on and they get to places. One whisper--granted.
We can't be "just human." That doesn't justify us. That doesn't justify our powers, our capabilities. We're humans, Smiled Upon and Favored, significant enough to be Watched---Blessed. We can be so amazing, and we are. Besides, our Father is so great. It must run in the Family.
how words bleed
this was written at the time of the taking of She Who Will Be Missed. she was actually recovered already the time i wrote this. consider this a residue of the incident. after all, if someone raped your sanctuary, your friend's car wherein you have invested so much memories, you would be upset for a while longer even after she has been recovered and her carnappers jailed.
i'm glad my friend's car has been found. God is good.
-----
pain, and a kind of invisible bleeding.
the way words are just words,
but are felt.
red liquid seeping, reeking of rust.
as vivid as words that are just words,
but are felt.
--- written 04 July 2007
human drama
Take a peek into my soul.
My honesty. My hormones.
The soul that laughs
and cries and kisses.
My emotions.
My feisty, rebellious charge,
flushing my cheeks and writing my letters.
The flood of ink and lead in my
sketchpad.
My humanity. My imperfection.
My mess of dreams and diaries.
All the things that everyone recognizes.
That little thespian soul.
--- written 02 June 2007
to ponder
"We can never be born enough. We are human beings;for whom birth is a supremely welcome mystery,the mystery of growing:which happens only and whenever we are faithful to ourselves. You and I wear the dangerous looseness of doom and find it becoming." - e.e. cummings
glimmer
Glimmer as the sun does on rippling water
Like the moon trails on the sea--
Clinging to the surface, riding the waves.
Glimmer like the warmth that calls to the drowning
Lingering even as the water turns to ink with twilight.
Wait for the drowning to find you
And gasp for air.
parmenides has a point
maybe things are always as they are; it's just people who change.
maybe the world isn't constantly in flux in motion; it's only we who make it seem so. our senses lie to us, telling us one thing and then another. maybe that's why we have realizations. there are those moments when certain things become clear to us and we realize we haven't been seeing it the way that it is all along . it's not the thing that changed; it's our perception of it.
yes. maybe perceptions are the tricky ones. maybe the senses are the erratic ones. maybe our realities are illusions. after all, our minds can only give us our reality, not the reality.
maybe the world is less complicated than we think.
close up on cliche
Let's look at cliche, the book of the overfamiliar--
the anthology of things said too often.
People passing by...
When I look up at the sky...
Suffocation.
Drowning.
Darkness.
Screams that no one hears...
Yadda.
Templates and blueprints of pain.
Things people say "whatever" to.
Heard it. Been there. Done that.
Varying slangs of "I don't care."
Find new shades of red and black
because no one can just say it--
I'm tired.
And I'm lonely.
And I'm sad.
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