Pensive moments…

It seems to me that in the absence of my favorite guys both awakened and consumed my er, fondness of them. As always, you might be wondering what the hell am I talking about. Well, I’m talking about Tio and Flavor of the month…who else…I think that as my er, fondness of flavor of the month waned, my fondness for Tio was at best, awakened and at worst, reawakened. In simpler terms, though hard it is for me to admit, I think I’m starting to like Tio again. Then again, maybe it’s not the absence of flavor of the month that’s causing this. Maybe it’s this ‘friend’ of mine’s fault. She really really really likes Tio. She’s so in favor of Tio becoming my “S.O.” that her mind is deluded into thinking that I will end up with him and that she has infected me with that delusion of hers. Hopefully this is what’s really going on and not me putting the blame on some innocent girl. If this is her delusion that’s slowly taking over me, I hope and I know I will overcome it. In fact, I think her delusion is ebbing away at this very moment. Sorry if it seems that I’m contradicting myself. Okay, so I’m a walking contradiction; tell me something I don’t know. Speaking of telling me something I don’t know, I said this to someone and he replied, “Okay, here’s something you don’t know, you’re pretty.” “Pretty creepy!!!” I hoped he’d add, but to my dismay, he didn’t. He probably saw the shock in my eyes so he turned it into a joke. I made it look like his lie worked but deep inside, I knew that the damage has been done and the lie was too late to fix it. I have been freaked out already. Why did that freak me out? Well, the night before that happened, I pictured (by pictured, I meant I just saw it in my head without really er, thinking about it or putting it there…do you get what I’m saying, er typing? Of course not. I knew it. Oh well, that was a nice try for both of us reader and writer…=p) that conversation in my head only the guy I was talking to wasn’t the one who actually said the line. I have to admit that the guy who said it was not in the list of guys I’d imagine doing that. Yes, that’s how ‘unwanted’ that guy is, I deprived him of the privilege of being in the list even being the last one in it. Anyway, now do you see why it freaked me out? For one, I sort of foresaw the conversation a few hours before it happened. For another, the guy who said it wasn’t the one I expected to do so. Also, I hope and wish that I didn’t include the condition I added while I pictured the conversation in my head. If that condition was er, fulfilled by the guy who said it, then I’d be damned. The condition I added was that the guy who carried out that conversation could be the one. That can’t be. I don’t want that to happen because if it does, I’d really be damned. Seriously. If you knew who the guy was, you’d understand why I’d be damned. Then again, I’ve made conditions like that and they didn’t come true…well, not just yet but the universe isn’t showing signs that it will so only time will tell who’s right…for now, time is telling me to go to bed and stop contemplating the mysteries of the universe. Time says that’s too much to handle, even for someone like me. Time to finish this entry and The Silmarillion…(yes, I’m an LOTR freak)

In the darkest and innermost depths of my heart, a fire burns, untended yet also untamed. At its least, it is hope- a fool’s hope that you’d look my way and that I’d know, even for a brief moment, how it is to be all that mattered to you. At its best, it is love- a love that is unknown, unrequited, most probably unwanted. At its worst, it is a forbidden knowledge- a forbidden knowledge I’ve learned or worse, stolen and imparted and for this, as Prometheus was punished by the Olympian gods, I too am being punished. If Prometheus’ punishment was to be chained to a rock where his insides are constantly devoured by an eagle and they in turn would constantly grow back only to be devoured again, mine is to be bound to you and to have my heart- if not myself- broken over and over again by you. Hey, just because I am in pieces, doesn’t mean I can’t be broken further.* I may seem sewn together and all patched up on the outside but deep inside, I’m torn in so many ways, shattered to innumerable pieces even. But don’t worry about me, I’ll get along just fine. I’ll just put on that smile I’ve always worn all this time to lie to the world, to myself and to you even to pretend that I’m okay. I put up this show, endure all these lies, these sacrifices just for your sake, never mine. Don’t worry, I didn’t write this to evoke your pity. I never wanted that anyway and anyone else’s for that matter. Besides, I know this one will never come within your gracious presence anyway. I only wrote this so that this won’t go unknown to mankind and pass out of existence with me- not that I truly existed (not for you at least). I wrote this in the hope that when I finish writing the last word, its meaning would be forgotten, lost to me and would therefore soon cease to be. Unfortunately though, I am not as blessed as Professor Quemada who was given the privilege to forget the meaning of words after using it. Now that I think of it, if I were blessed as such, I would have forgotten the face, the very being that came with your name when I first uttered it. Then, I wouldn’t be in this sorrow, in this pain. Then again, I wouldn’t know the joy I felt upon knowing you; the joy that makes all this suffering worth it; the joy that makes this suffering somewhat bearable yet also, in some twisted way, unbearable; the joy that awakens and consumes the pain, the fire in my heart.

Whoa! Where the hell did all that come from?! I’m sorry, that wasn’t me who was typing. This is probably what happens to you when you’re still up at 5:30 in the morning even though you know you have to wake up 4 hours later because you have somewhere else to be…words and cheesiness just come flooding in your head making it even more impossible to get some sleeping done. So to everyone out there, Tolkien before bedtime is a big no-no or else you’ll end up like that sob who wrote all the deep shit you just read. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go now…I feel like my head is about to split in half and I feel like my eyes are on fire.

*I got this from Mr. Guevara.

As my new Lit teacher wonderfully ranted about poetry in a manner that is poetry to me as well, I couldn’t help but relate poetry to the damned deity worshipped by this damned being. I once thought that he was the incarnation of poetry and now I realize how right I was. Like poetry, he touches one greatly. The simplest of his words affects one unbelievably yet undeniably. Like poetry, one has to delve deep within to search for emotions, for meaning. To quote my Lit teacher, poetry doesn’t serve meaning on a silver platter nor does he. Like poetry, he tries and (hopefully) rewards your patience. He is agonizing and somewhat exhausting to read yet once you get the hang of it er, him, the experience is rewarding. Like poetry, you have to tear him apart to put his pieces back together so he starts making sense to you. Like poetry, his structure (if I may say so) may directly or indirectly lead you to who he is and who he is not. Like poetry, he embodies irony. He is magnanimous yet he is humble and gentle. He is smart (and cunning?) yet also somewhat ignorant (or innocent? Pick one). He is gentle but he is also cruel. He is deceiving yet also deceived. He is unbelievable yet also undeniable (like I said earlier). He is godlike yet also human. He is wonderful and dangerous in the fullness of his magnificence. Like poetry, he does not approximate human language. He is indescribable. He is unfathomable. His appearance is both a mere representation and yet also a part of his essence, his meaning. Like poetry, he is timeless, endless…or at least is seemingly so. Frankly, I don’t know if his similarity with poetry is what makes me worship him or if this similarity is what makes me love poetry. I love poetry but hell no! I don’t love him. I don’t think I’m quite there yet and I don’t think he’s that sublime. Yes, I’d like to think this is so. Where was I? Oh yeah, sublime…yet no matter how hard I drill this in my head, in myself, I still couldn’t help but associate a song of Linkin Park to him. I can’t think of the title right now but the lyrics goes something like: no matter what you say, you’re still sublime to me. If I’m not mistaken, the same song also contains the lines: when I look into you eyes there’s nothing there to see/ nothing but my own mistake staring back at me. Speaking of mistake, I really think I’m just putting my head way above the clouds (i.e. being an extremely foolish idealistic daydreamer) in chasing this creature of the heavens. I know I’m just probably building or trying to build castles in the air and I think I’m going to fail in this er, herculean task but as the saying goes, “one truly fails when one does not try.” I may be fighting a losing battle but I’m fighting anyway…fighting hard not to give in to him totally…hehe =p

Once again, I found myself worshipping yet another demigod in the form of an abominably cute and insufferably charming male human. When will I ever learn?! I have changed my religion three times already in the past six months because the demigods I worshipped never showed any sign of hearing or even just wanting to listen to my entreaties. You might think that after experiencing some form of refusal three times, I’d lose my faith and become an atheist until the real savior delivers me from eternal damnation to skepticism. But nooo! I had to use the trial and error method. I guess believing in the saying; “one truly fails when one doesn’t try (or something like that)” has disadvantages. One that I am apparently suffering from is that I don’t know when I should quit. I seem to have been instilled with the virtue of bravery or stubbornness (take your pick) that the knowledge that I am fighting a losing battle and that I will be mortally wounded in fighting will only make me ever more keen to try again. Not only will I dare try yet another attempt but I will also go even further by hoping that this attempt will produce better results. So now, here I am once again on the altar offering yet another supplication to my own deity. As I contemplate on the wonders of my deity’s existence, I found myself asking, “what wonders?” I mean, aside from his almost godly cuteness, spellbinding charms, undeniable cleverness and not to mention his somewhat towering presence, there’s nothing else worthy of worship about him. In fact, I don’t understand why I am visiting this forsaken temple to pay homage to an unworthy, long-forgotten demigod. I really don’t understand why I am laying flowers on his feet, shivering in his “holy” presence and offering myself as a slave. Yet, here I am, offering to serve, to look at that face for all eternity. I find myself vowing to watch and trace the wrinkles that would grow on that face and never, not even for one brief moment, grow weary of doing so. Then, I start feeling like I could plunge into those deep eyes and rise to the surface only to sink into their unfathomable depths all over again. A mere glance from those eyes can make me forget the sad fate I have to endure just to get those eyes to look at me. All these and more I can do but there are two things that I can’t do at the moment. One is to get this damned demigod hear my fervent prayers and let him know these capabilities of mine. Two is to get him to do or at the very least just want to do the same things for me.

Damn you demigod! Damn you!!!

Sorry, that’s just how I pray to him. Maybe this is why he’s not listening to my prayers…my ‘prayers’ sound like curses. Well, one can’t blame me. I learned from my past religions that sweet entreaties only stop the demigods from answering my pleas because they’d want me to keep praying so that they can hear more. Oh my God, now that I think about it, my demigods are just as twisted as I am (if it’s not the other way around but I’d like to think that they’re pure so as to be worthy of my worship).

(WARNING: This is yet another Tio and Flavor of the month related blog…sorry =p)

As I promised in the previous blog, I’d tell you who Nike is. Nike is the Greek goddess of victory. I didn’t get this from Bulfinch though I got the next one from him…

Tantalus, according to Greek mythology, served his son to the Olympian gods. For this, he was punished by making him suffer undying thirst and hunger and everytime he tried to satisfy these, the resources around him would go beyond his reach. If you want more details, fine. As a punishment, he was chained near a pool. Over the pool fruits hang and everytime he tried to drink or eat, the pool would drain and the fruits would by tossed by the wind far from his reach. In short, he was sentenced to suffer yearning for something, in a way, available. He suffered the lack of things that were abundant around him and for me, that’s a lot worse than suffering the lack of things that really are not within one’s reach. It’s like a place that you want to go to and it’s so near yet you can’t get there…so near yet so far from your reach. I think I’m suffering a similar punishment to that of Tantalus’. You know what I mean. I’m with a lot of them almost- wait, I think I ought to remove the almost- everyday but I can’t seem to get what I want/need (take your pick because I dunno which one either). It’s like I’m destined to know they exist and that’s it, period. Take Tio and Flavor of the month for instance. Before I met them, I kept wondering if such guys existed and what it would be like to be with them. Now, I know the answer to both questions, I just didn’t get the answer I wanted/needed for the latter. Now, I feel like I’m Tantalus. I want/need something that’s within my reach yet everytime I reach out to grab it, it slips right through my fingers. This reminds me of a line of Kate Hudson in Alex & Emma…the one about hares. I don’t remember the exact words but it says something about a predator of a hare chasing it but never catches the hare. I contemplated on that and it occurred to me that what if the reward of the chase isn’t the hare but the chase itself? What if my reward isn’t really getting the guy of my dreams but the experience of trying to get him? What if the knowledge that such guy exists is the reward and that I wasn’t meant to have him? What if I were meant to suffer the same fate as Tantalus? Then again, I didn’t kill my son, cut him up and served him to the gods and so, I’m not really stuck to that kind of thing. He was meant not to have nourishment for all eternity but who said I was meant to chase the guy of my dreams all of my life? Besides, even if it were, well a lifetime is helluva lot shorter than all eternity, right? His vain attempts of acquiring nourishment and failing are a fulfillment of his destiny, a period to his sentence. My going after the guy of my dreams (now that I think about it, I’m still searching for him, not going after him and who said I’d go after a guy?) is but a part of my destiny (if I may say so), a space or a comma but hopefully not a period to my sentence. Besides, Tantalus is a myth, I’m not. Oh yeah, at the end of the movie, Kate Hudson says, “Maybe you can catch the hare.” Or something like that.

P.S.

Please pardon the cheesiness of this entry. I wanted to find a way around it but I realized that I have to go through a long, tedious way to do so. hehe c”,)

Here I am once again

Marveling

Staring

At the being wrought by heaven

The living proof of perfection

Of God’s wondrous creation

I look into those eyes

Mesmerized

Fazed

As I sink deeper into his gaze

Then I feel frozen

Powerless against the spell he’s woven

Then you sing to me

Melodiously

Sweetly

Swept away by your poetry

Hardly believing the truth

That I’m the one you’re singing to

Then I hear an evil laugh

Suddenly

Reality

Pulling me out of my reverie

Oh, silly me

I was just staring at your photograph

And I turn off the radio

Unwillingly

Dreamily

I turn on the TV

So I can watch your show

And carry on with my fantasy

So much depends

Upon

A red wheel

Barrow

Glazed with rain

Water

Beside the white

Chickens

According to our extremely animated discussion, the poem basically places a seemingly insignificant thing such as a wheelbarrow in the spotlight. The poem is about an insignificant little thing having a great value. A value greater than what it seems to have. Upon knowing this, I loved the poem right away. I love irony. I loved the ironies in the poem. One is that something so magnanimous, “so much,” depends upon something so small, so seemingly worthless. The dependence of something that has a great value on the wheelbarrow makes the wheelbarrow more valuable than the “so much” it contains. I also loved the reversal where something so great can be contained in small packages. Kinda like the poem, it has few words but says a lot of things…reminds me of “big things come in small packages.” I couldn’t help but suppress a smile at these thoughts. Another irony is that details that often stand out, like the mobile, living chickens, are the ones used for contrast so as to make the immobile, nonliving wheelbarrow stand out. It’s like making an ugly girl stand among extremely beautiful women to make her stand out. Once again, I found myself forcing back a smile. The reason why I love this poem all boils down to one reason: it is because I think the poem talks about me. Or at least it seems to reach out to me saying, “no matter how infinitesimal, irrelevant or worthless you seem, remember the red wheelbarrow that had a greater value than what it seemed to have.” The fact that some poet found the wheelbarrow worthy enough to be the topic of his poem made me a bit more optimistic. If someone noticed a wheelbarrow that was often taken for granted, then someone might notice me and find that I am worthy enough to be the topic of his poem. I’d like to think that someone, someday would see me despite my being small, see the “so much” I contain and deem me valuable enough to contain something as priceless as his love.

Heto ang aking sariling rendisyon ng gitara

Para sa diyus-diyosang sinasamba

Bakit pa kailangang magbihis?

Sayang din naman ang porma

Lagi lang namang may sisingit

Sa tuwing tayo’y magkasama

Bakit pa kailangang pag-ibig

Kung marami namang mag-aalay sa’yo

Uupo na lang at magta-type

Maghihintay ng pagkakataon

Hahayaan na lang silang magkandarapang magpapansin sa’yo

Idadaan na lang kita

Sa rendisyon kong ito

Sabay ang tugtog ng parokya

Idadaan na lang sa “gitara”

Mapapagod lang sa kakatingin

Hindi mo naman papansinin

Magta-type na lang at magpaparinig

Ng lahat ng aking  nadarama

Pagbibigyan na lang silang magkandarapang magpapansin sa’yo

Idadaan na lang kita

Sa mga salitang ito

Sabay ang tugtog ng parokya

Idadaan na lang sa “gitara”

Mayroon pa akong isa pang kantang nais ihandog sa aking diyus-diyosan. Ito ay ang “Ewan Ko” ng Soapdish. Hindi ko na kailangang baguhin pa ang mga salita sa kantang iyon dahil sa tingin ko sinasabi na ng kantang ito ang nais kong iparating. Hehe…naisip ko ang mga ito habang pinapanood ko siyang matalo sa akin. Kahit ako’y nadadaig niya sa labanang patigasan ng loob, siya nama’y nadadaig ko sa ibang labanan. Natalo ko siya kanina! Nyahahaha! Akala niya dahil sinasamba ko siya ay patatalo na ako sa kanya pero ngayon alam na niya na maraming nadadali ng maling akala. Hahaha!