Of Queues and Daydreams

Long lines
How much longer?

Long queues
Am I to wonder?
About witches and wizards
And mutants and fairies?
About daydreams--
Both reachable and farfetched
About fantasies--
Both of innocent romances
And of guilty pleasures?

Am I to continue guessing?
Is that person staring?
Should I stop mouthing lyrics?
I'm running low on breath mints

Lull moments
Am I to endure awkward silences?
Am I to suffer idle chit-chat?
Am I supposed to enjoy this torture?
Waiting is the worst.

Zombie

What makes the soul die? For me, it is the endless rotation of the mundane. Every day, the same---with nothing much going on in between to keep you sane. Getting stuck in a hole where you can never crawl out, no matter how you struggle, no matter how hard you try to claw through the dirt and stones.

Can you blame me for quitting? When all I have for all my efforts are dirt in my fingernails and grime on my face? Would you have continued trying even when doors incessantly shut in your face? Perhaps you would have carried on. Perhaps you are the brave sort. But you have to know that I'm not. You have to know that I easily give up. All those inspirational quotes circulating online can only do so much. Pep talks from friends feel rehearsed, like they're just going through motions of comforting someone insecure and incompetent. Yes, they help boost morale for a few seconds, but they don't give me the courage I need, the confidence I crave.

Dumbledore said that words are our most inexhaustible source of magic. Unfortunately, I'm a witch who found out that she's a muggle after all---a squib, a disappointment. I'm a dreamer who has woken up to a cold, bucketful of water poured over my head. I'm a fraud. I'm a fool.

But I'll keep doing this foolishness anyway. Because I can't think of any other way to exist.

How Writing Is for the Rest of Us

How will a writer know if she's good enough? If it's measured by the books she's published or the starred reviews she's acquired, then there are thousands out there who will never, ever feel confident with their abilities. 

How can a writer go on when she receives rejection after rejection--every piece close to her heart, written with passion and pure intentions, ignored.

We regret to inform you that your submission failed to qualify.
Thank you for participating.

Two lines. Only two lines are enough to make a writer feel like garbage. The world only needs to say no to make her stop forming dialogues and arguments and plots inside her head. You see, fear of rejection is a writer's toxic friend. She shares a bittersweet coffee with it every day. In return, it feeds her insecurities. It blocks her path and spits on her hopes.

The world of writing is a cruel place. This is a world of masochists. We keep on going even after a deadly blow to our ego. We keep pouring our souls, baring ourselves just to fall hard--rejected, unrecognized, alone.

Yep. But we're still hooked. Like fucking junkies.

Jeni: Live in Manila II

I went to Manila last month. I was busy when I came back to Cebu, so I wasn't able to post my adventures. :) I originally wanted to post this in Tumblr because they're all pictures, but I was only allowed to post 10 pics maximum. Total bummer, right? Anyway, enough of the shitty introduction. Here's my Manila adventure (the second time around). :D

Oh, by the way, thanks to Kirby, Bemits, Tip, and Meggy for the documentation. :3

----

Finally attended Komikon! See my bag? It was full of komiks and goodies from the event. My shoulders and arms were so tired I was so thankful for the massage the next day. :D

Fangirling part 1: photo op with Sir Budjette and Sir Kajo! :D

Bemits, Tip, and Kirby accompanied me to the Walled City.

I wanted to pose with arms raised in surrender while manong guardiya sibil pointed his gun at me. But he said it was dangerous. LOL.

Walking inside the walls was surreal. Space, time, past, and present were all warped inside my mind. I was possessed.

My first kalesa ride. :)) We just wanted a ride around the city, but the kalesa's tour guide, Manong Jun, offered to tell the history of the place as well. We paid more, but it was all good because he was an enthusiastic and engaging guide. :)

The oldest church in Intramuros--forgot the name. Heh.

The art on the ceiling is a 3D painting. :)

Yaaa. I know it's blurred, but it's the only picture of us four together. XD Saree. :3

Had dinner at Bellini's in Cubao Expo with the rest of the Manila gang :D

With Crazy Meggy. LOL.

Fangirling part 2: photo op with Sir Tuts of Queso! :D It was a serendipitous meeting. I didn't know there was a MEDISINA shop in Cubao Expo. I was so starstruck that the first thing I did was shake his hand, bow my head, and say "Sir, I'm a fan." HAHAHA. Gahd.

Two of my most favorite people in the world. <3

I'm fat. I'm with friends. I'm happy. I'm broke. As far as I'm concerned, I'm living the life of a twenty-something. Fuck thirty-something and beyond, right? >.<

Next stop: Baguio. Fingers-crossed! ;)

Spectrums

There she is. She’s frowning again. She walks—quite briskly—in midday, one hand carrying the take-out chicken she bought from a nearby fastfood chain. I’m afraid that will be her only meal for the day. Again. When will she care about her health? I wish she will smile once today. She looks best when she smiles. Radiant and sincere. Her only abnormality is that deep dimple on her left cheek.

Wara—that’s what they call her. I wonder what she would call me if she knew I existed. But I know. My gray presence is not worthy of her attention. Sometimes, I wish she was translucent—like water or glass. So that when the light hits her body, I will turn into a spectrum of colors. Like the rainbow. Not like this. Insignificant, drab, sometimes even frightening.

I’m happy that the sun beats too much because I get to be more visible. That and when there are no electrical lights at night, and she has to use candlelight. Those are the only times I get a more solid form. Those are the only times I can have a better look at her and her enchanting world. It is full of colors—colors I will never see in mine. But why she chooses to apply dark makeup and wear dark clothes confuses me. It makes me sad. She could have worn flowers. She could have painted her face with the colors of the sun. I don’t understand why she loves the gloom when everything around her is light.

If she continues to be this way, she might as well live in my world. Everything here is bleak. There is no real darkness, but there is no real light either. There is only a depressing spectrum of grays. I am in between pain and comfort, grief and joy, death and life. If she were in my place, would she be happier? If I invited her to come to my world, would she have said yes? I would give anything just to be in her world. But I don’t have anything to begin with. Just one dark moment after another. This is nothing compared to the red of her lips, the browns and reds on her hair, the eternal blackness of her eyes. Her dark, sad eyes.

Wara’s voice is equally dark, equally hypnotic. She is a singer. Yes, and I dare say a really good one. She is not like the others. She becomes alive at night. She sings from one bar to the next with the band mates she dare not call friends. Yes, they’re a band. But she never stays for drinks after the gigs. Oh, she drinks all right. But not outside where she feels vulnerable—where she can’t control everything.

She drinks alone. In her closetlike room. She doesn’t care. But her loneliness grips me. I want to hide in my darkness and be free of her emptiness. But I am her. She is me. And I think I have more of me in her. Because she prefers darkness over anything else. She prefers solitude over company. She’s crying now. How on earth can I comfort her? What can I offer to ease her pain?

There is nothing of course, except this eternal darkness. So I decide to break all the laws that bind me and step out into her gloomy light. I step out and offer her my gift. I offer it to her, without hesitation. I offer it willingly because I know it will give her peace.

That’s it, Wara. Come on over. Embrace my darkness. It will set you free.

Sabaw

Ako'y tatanga-tanga

Sabog utak at mata
Kailan ba mawawala
Inip, antok, at nganga?

Lovely Jean

Wake up
Come see the morning sun
It shines bright
Just for you

Come now, my love
Come feel the wind
Let it kiss your cares away
That is what I always say

Dance to the enchanting sound
Of the beating of your big heart
Feel the rhythm of your being
Let it out like there's no tomorrow

You are reborn to sing
With the sweetest music of your soul
This is your moment, my darling
Savor the entirety of your existence

Live today
Like it's your first time breathing
Feel the rush!
You are alive and beautiful and free

June 7, 2013

Happy birthday, Mama. <3