The Beauty of Innocence

Death is the only thing that can separate a mother to her young – that’s what I used to believe. Having to experience the irrevocable nature of life and death, life handed me over to maturity at a very young age by losing my Mama.

But what is worse than having a living mother who chooses to turn her back to you, regardless of reason?

If one cannot trust her own mother to stay, who will she ever trust again? If one cannot trust her own father to be to be her confidant, who will she ever lean on again?

But as I write this, I am full of hope. I am full of joy.

To our dearest, you have got a lot of things right now and we all know how it must be difficult for you to even ask us for the answers.

The world might throw you stones along the way but with the purest of heart you still manage to appreciate life despite its bitter reality – and that is the beauty of innocence.

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YOU. SUCK.

Baka sensitive lang s’ya” (Maybe she’s just sensitive)

Wait. WHAT?

My thoughts automatically shut as I stared with wide eyes at a colleague who was explaining to me something she retrieved from a meeting. After the words sunk like hard metal on my throat, the rest of the conversation easily dissolved into blur.

BAKA. SENSITIVE. LANG. SIYA.

“Sensitive”, meaning, it all emerged from her “senses”. Just because it does not seem offensive to you, the deed cannot offend somebody else. Being offended is a subjective thing. One thing can offend another, one thing cannot. So who are you to question what can offend her and what cannot?

Maybe I am just overreacting. Or maybe seeing the young girl shiver with tears running down her face is called “OVERREACTING”. Or maybe with that little voice as she questioned me with her safety is something that made me feel like I should “OVERREACT” and STAND FOR WHAT I BELIEVE IN.

How about you? Coming from a firm and well-rounded foundations in education and in this society, who are you to lessen the burden of the predator and put some blame – if not all – on the prey?

YOU. SUCK.

YOU. MAKE. ME. SICK.

Adult-ing (-ish)

Sitting alone in a café, calmly drinking my Java Chip that is plotted to be consumed within the next two hours while I gradually encode those that are still for my reports.

Never have I imagined myself doing these clichéd things you see in movies and in the malls.

I stopped what I was doing because of three points:

  1. The urge to write suddenly awakens (HA. Where have you been, old friend?)
  2. My ego said I should, because you know, it’s a café. YOU SHOULD AT LEAST TRY TO DO THIS and mainly because;
  3. I needed to reflect.

This is the point where I usually track my life with constant rantings and reflection. Where in the world am I? Is this maturity I am experiencing? Should I be proud of what I have been doing for the previous years – to date?

Ever since my university life ended, life has never felt like it’s on fast-forward. Career, education, bills, career, bills, bills, and another bill, usually consumed my attention and strive.

This is maturity.

I still want to study, to earn a degree of some sort that can help me be more effective in my craft – but it’s too expensive! To constantly travel with my girlfriends, to spoil my Papeng to the best that I can, to give back the love and support to my family – few things that still floats on my ledger.

I don’t want to live paycheck to paycheck anymore.

Of course. Everybody has their dream business.

In this era where technology and empowerment can be reached with the tip of our fingers, I want to venture out of my comfort zone. To have a stable backup plan, to have a name of my own, to create a legacy that can travel from mouth to mouth, all of which cannot happen overnight, of course. All of which cannot happen if all of every aspect of your life is still unstable.

Privacy is vital.

Ironic as it is, but even now that I am living alone, independent in almost every sort, did I only come to realize that privacy can be so expensive. Privacy isn’t always about having some time alone. It can be the slightest touch of information or the most infamous news about your life.

Living within the edges of privacy can be your ass-saving weapon at this point of your life. Like words, it can either make or break you. It can save your ass from a lot of explanation for people who are either curious, or just plain chismosa.

GTG now, Java Chip’s running out!

*featured image grabbed from the internet

 

Life outside the blog: The Return

New endeavors, same old self.

As I breathe in and out the regret going through life outside this blog, (and more importantly, outside a journal) I slowly realized that maybe it’s time to start writing again. Same old self with a whole lot of new pursuits is what lied before me. There were some challenges that I have gone through, new faces met, unusual pathways taken but it’s the same old self that I have been improving. It sure is a tiring thing to tediously commit to, that’s for sure but journals and this blog had kept me on my feet every single time being “positive” is not enough.

Brace yourselves with what maybe succeeding this post will be piles of what kept me busy in 2016!

LET’S START!

What Writing Is To Me

“I first began writing, because I wanted to record a way of life which I loved and which seemed in danger of dying away”

– Sylvia Watanabe


As I was rereading the first few life reflection posts on my Burn Book, I felt that inner rush to post this quote – that for me is very much relatable – and which apparently, I have also written on the second page of my journal, months back.

Both as an escape and an adventure – that’s what writing is to me.

Writing is the only escape I could think of in times where I feel that emotions to be shared with other people are too strong to be empathized with. It lets me jump into places, ideas, issues, and sentiments that reading cannot withstand alone. Though reading is something I do to distract my senses from things that I often times get irritated with, writing, on the other hand, gives me that special sanctuary that this world could never offer. Sometimes I write to myself, sometimes I pretend to write to others in certain cases that diverting the persona is a hindrance towards my emotion-release; sometimes I write to God, to Papeng, and to other persons or issues that I am currently gripped with. It’s just that “castaway” feeling of indulging your consciousness directly into recorded details that makes me feel enlightened and radiant every time I write. Sending of recorded details to someone or to something I am not sure of – is where is the adventure part of writing comes in.

Right before I even tried to be faithful to my diary, I always thought of people who write on diaries as people who don’t even know how to have fun. I, frankly speaking, still think that it’s such a dork way to spend your time with. But in reality, this “dork way” of spending your time is so much of a mystery and amusement in itself. Most especially in times of rereading your previous writings; it will make you reflect on your previous life issues in a detailed and funny way just by merely, reading it again. But then once more, these details aren’t just for the “fun”, it brings every issue of your life in their proper meaning and respective order just by writing about it now, and then reflecting how you bounced back from that crisis, afterwards.

Celebrating life isn’t just all that, it will be so much fun too to let yourself have a detailed glimpse of how the process of life sharpens you through the years.

Worlds apart

So tightly did she hold my hand

And so quickly she had shed a tear

Never have I felt entirely safe

Even though I was completely ill

 

To that one chance that God gave me

I know not all could get this free

I can finally brag that glimpse of reality

That through my illest time you were hugging me

 

I prayed and prayed so I can hug you back

Though I know I was out of track

Still I hoped for that too much,

But so scared I was to push my luck

 

For those many days I have wept

During those many nights alone I have slept.

Tears to years, the grief’s still bright

Like the first day you were out of sight

 

Each dream I still wished you there,

But I know you listened to my every prayer

So forgive me if I say it makes me blue

That most of the time, I still long for you 

 

That murmur that I once heard

Deserved no more place in this world

For not a word was to be understood

Even to translate – no one could

 

What I share is a poem

Even if it won’t perfectly rhyme

To the person I thought I’d lost

But was there in my darkest time

 

I told myself not to cry

But I just knew she had to go

From that one time that me see

That even worlds apart, she loves me so

 

Only with just one breath

She reminded me not to fuss

Though I still wished her here

 I’m sure she’s watching over us

 

Knowing that worlds’ what holding me

Never have I known what defined eternity

But that borrowed time from God above

I sure have felt her eternal love

 

And so tightly did she hold my hand

So quickly with me, she had shed a tear

Never have I felt entirely safe

Even though I know I was completely ill

 

The Weather-friend

I’ve been meaning to write and conjure up thoughts about this but I’ve been losing words that could let all the readers know what a Weather-Friend is. So, as a certainty to my doubts, I collected glimpses of information from my friends as to what a “Weather-Friend” means to them:

“Yung hindi mapakali sa friends. Walang satisfaction sa cliques.”

“Just like the weather, can’t always be trusted.” (personal favorite)

“Walang direksyon kung ano talaga gusto nila sa friends.”

“Kaibigan mo lang kapag pabor sa kanya yung situation”

“… at dahil wala silang definite na group of friends, parang hindi din sila sure kung ano personality nila.”

As my trusted resources defined it for me, a weather-friend is always a friend in need but never a friend indeed. As the urban lingo adds up firm definitions to what a weather friend is, a “foul-weather friend” or a “fair-weather friend” is already on the go changing his or her cliques. And yes! You’re right! Weather-friends are the types of “friends” who leaves you hanging in times when they feel like it. They’re called “Weather-Friends” because they’re like the weather – fickle, mysterious and indecisive. Well, I’m sure most of us have that one friend who’s always there to laugh with you but never there to buckle you up when there are heavy hurdles on the road. They’re not that bad, they’re just… unpredictable. Condemning them as hypocrites won’t be that much of an insult too, knowing that they’re not even sure with what and who they are.

Now, the question we all have in mind is, are these “Weather-friends” a parasite towards cliques? Or are they are just another lesson to be learned along the way? Basing our predictions on the definition, yes – THEY CAN BE – and that is if you let them. It takes a lot of courage and patience to deal with weather-friends because one day you’ll hanging like BBFs, the other they just stare at you with that cold, poisonous “weather-friend glare”. They may not have intentions, but I’ll bet all my gold that they sure can leave a cause.

Now, if y’all are wondering what the catch with this post is – you’re accusations are right again. We’ve all been deceived by a weather-friend who’s not even sure with what they want in life and who they are themselves. They’re lethal; I don’t even think they can contribute to the society. Don’t get me wrong – they can be the sweetest but can leave a rotten path if not stopped at once. Another catch and the most important of them all is I wanted to share and let other people know that these weather-friends only affect friendships that are weak and unsure. So backing-up your clique would be that much if you’ve got inklings towards a suspect.

It’s a good thing there’s the internet to give us guidelines to avoid these kinds of people and it’s a good thing they’re common – everyone’s had experience with these kinds of people but if you don’t, you might have to re-calculate your deeds because you might be the “weather-friend” that destroys groups.

HAPPY HUNTING, READER!