so it's been about weeks of staying up late at night to study for majors that get harder ever term. weeks of doing projects and papers that make me forget everything else. i take my anxiety at midnight, hold it up in a bottle and drink to forget even for a little while. my last finals for this term ended a few days ago and i can say that i did my best somehow--that i didn't resign to submission or failure though there were days when i wish i did. and there's no regretting it now. it's done and all i have to do is wait, though sometimes it's what's hard to do.

And there's a chill in the air that makes people long for the summer warmth. a stream of bright lights and nostalgic Christmas songs that echo their way through the night. and people smiling, excited for the holidays. and i wonder how many other people feel like this on the inside, as if the sadness of it all just gets worse.

and i wonder why--for someone like me who has been constantly afraid of it--the glow of the sun did not hurt my eyes as i welcomed the brilliance of the light to flood into the four corners of the room.

strange. but maybe, not at all.

i want a Four-Leaf Clover too.

she walks alone, clogs echoing through the night
the distant screeches of cars lulling her to dream
of a better life, AN EASIER ONE
only the faint yellow lightposts and empty store lights
that guide her through cracks and holes in the concrete
for countless nights it became
a familiar companion, a quiet witness
she walks slowly, hesitating
not sure where to go
no phone lines or street signs
or people telling her "this is where you need to be"
she walks alone, and the night covers this all

To Do List:
1. Rock Up the World Concert.
2. National Electronics and Media Convention.
3. Analcom, Advelin, Cocirfu & Elcitwo [and the three lab counterparts]. Three words: Supposedly Nerd Mode.
4. CPR on this one-month dead blog.
5. Other non-academics and non-work stuff that i have to fix. In short, the rest of my life.

Go me.

it's just AMAZING how music drowns everything out.

so i told my friend, "you oughta start fixing things."

and i wish someone would just take the time, grip me by the shoulders and shake me awake from my spells of drift-ness that comes ever so often nowadays and tell me that: just tell me that i should start fixing things--that i should start fixing my life.

but how can someone do that when they're starting to lose their reason for things?

sometimes, people need the recognition that something or someone important is fading away, before they do something drastic.

that's just the way it is, Mondy.

i think it's not wrong at all.

it's not wrong to be honest even if we live in a world that is layered and coated in secrecy and in lies. or to be honest with a self that has resigned to hiding or running away from chances thrown in the tides of circumstance.

i think it's not wrong to be mistaken about expectations. or to welcome a change of mind--or heart.

and i think it's not wrong to be sorry, or to be confused about certain things and certain people. but it is wrong to linger on it much without wanting to give credit where it is due.

in the rush of things--of finals, due projects and papers, of people coming in and out of other people's lives, above the gray clouds that only spell rain, i am seeing things in a slower and better light. and instead of being dragged by the leash in a fast forward pace of living in the slice of the real world, my clogs are clicking softly with the pavement as i take my time to see changes and accept its coming.

and i guess i'm not wrong for doing that.

i'm a big fan of concerts for a real cause.

so there's this one, a benefit concert sponsored by 60th Eng of De La Salle University in partnership with Clean Up the World Foundation (http://www.cleanuptheworld.org/): Rock the World, Clean it Up Concert. It's scheduled on the 22nd of September (right after the Fall Out Boy concert which is on the 21st) at The Rockwell Activity Center. There're probably tickets, which aren't available yet, but i'll be posting it here again for some more updates on the bands and stuff.

i don't want fear.

fear that would chain someone in something that is truthfully--stripped of all the bias of the whos or whats or whys--only 'good'. fear that would prevent the wonderful takes of people on risking for the silly butterflies in the stomach, on the sinking feeling of loneliness--for the simple light of the truth. a fear that deprives anyone of living.

really living.

i don't want that anymore. i want, more than anything, to be happy.

nothing beats a hectic-no-time-to-rest engineering college life than a three day vacation. thankyoulord! i'm betting nursing students are singing hallelujahs right now too.

okay, on with my post.

on an attempt to be a prolific writer for an upcoming movie.

i only have the highest praises for Neil Gaiman. He is such a weaver of words and worlds as shown with his work on The Sandman (I had the whole thing scanned and put in a CD because one graphic novel issue costs about Php 900. and it has a friggin' bunch of volumes!), Good Omens (with Terry Pratchett), Neverwhere and such.

Stardust is a novel inspired movie by Neil Gaiman and Charles Vess. as with his other novel turned movie Mirrormask, it has a certain fairytale sort of feel that is well within reach of adults and kids alike. Fans of Neil Gaiman's work and those who simply love a good plot won't be disappointed.

you can visit the official movie website here: www.stardustmovie.com

suddenly i find myself floating in with the stream of words and my ever drifting thoughts and Rachel Yamagata as my background music.

maybe it was the alcohol induced drink to cope for my sudden attack of cramps in between classes and a report. and though i had wanted more, two bottles sufficed for a weekday night. maybe it's the effortless honesty that comes with a little bit of drunkedness--how suddenly it becomes too simple to have to deviate it with reason or logic. or with the fear of looking stupid or vulnerable or all those things we worry when we're too consumed with what others would think of us in hushed tones. i think that that's just what we all need right now: people just being damn honest to give a hell. like how everything slips and still fall into place at the end of the night and into the morning of a new day.

PASSION.

it's all about that. the passion to make a difference--to be the change, or usher its arrival.

a shadow will remain what is always is--a cast of dark against the resonance of light. and though two or three or a hundred more may mix in the void of blackness, one is always a smigen different from the other.

i feel, please do not forget.

"the most difficult phase of life is not when no one understands you, it's when you don't understand yourself."

i am starting to believe i am jinxed.

well, that's not much of a surprise, really.

i am a kid.

i said to myself as if it were inherently everything i'm not. when did i get so forgetful? i was suddenly in such a hurry to grow up and grow out of the magnificent innocence that possesed children to see what adults have been blind to--a small pool of water rather than a puddle of mud and dirt, a blessing of food rather than calories that would lead to flab and additional hours to the gym. an endless cycle of a boring routine that lacked what was somehow necessary--fun. weren't there days and nights i have laughed (immaturely but) triumphantly because i broke the rules and had a good time with my friends? weren't there moments that i would have given anything to experience them again not because of regret of the things i failed to do but because it was just so great and perfect?

i am a kid, i assured myself, as i tried to count as much cars and trucks at one in the morning, on a roadtrip to somewhere-else-where-we-could-all-study-better. i guess we drove for miles, i didn't know. and i didn't care that i got home at four-thirty. or that i slept in less than three hours time and went to class despite my wanting to sleep some more. or that i had an exam after that.

because at that time, i was happy. i was happy being a kid.

and this is where i sit waiting, tapping my fingers on the hard plastic table and pressing the keys madly, hoping the words would come out right and disassemble the thoughts in my head. in another routine of a day that consisted of hourly meetings, classes that never gave much knowledge, and breaks of food that tasted of too much oil and artificiality, i steal all the time i could into thinking what really mattered and what has kept me going despite the mundanity of it all.

when all that i have kept my transparent eyes on are the monochromes on the vibrant canvas of life, making silly excuses as to why the world is doomed to drown in discontent and why i draw a missile on the top of my head, it doesn't surprise me as much as to why i have been finding myself locked up inside a cell of a dorm, refusing to go out and deal.

and so this is when i have decided i should start to learn, not just from the shortcomings that people make, but the virtues that give them the strength to redeem themselves off of these mistakes. to give credit where it is due and accept that some things remain lost in the streams of the past, while others are piled away in the future, and there are those that we gain only now, as the seconds tick off into minutes and the minutes into hours.

because this is where i am now. where i'm supposed to be on mondays, pressing keys one after the other, hoping that the words came out right, as well as the program i am supposed to be making.

it started, like everything else, and just as it did, it ended. and the people who didn't as much cast their eyes away were standing up, dusting the bits and pieces of popcorn from their sleeves slowly making way to the exit.

just like everyone else.

with the white rolling credits against black screen and thundering rock music, i managed to get up from my seat and look over my shoulder to see that i am in the company of people whose lives i quite do not know and don't know me back. nevertheless, in the light of this little truth, as i admired the way the yellow light drops itself so warmly on everyone, i realize that it did not change the fact that i am still welcome.

like everyone is, at the foot of the door of other people's lives.

as promised.

there are certain moments, certain days and nights and the minutes in between that make me think..

why do i even bother?

in one of them days.

i never seem to remember or understood why, in my younger days, i enjoyed being sick(sick in a not-so-sickly-kind-of-way). i would spend the whole day laying in my bed, wrapped from head to toe with dozens of blankets, with nothing but my thoughts, a thermometer by my side, and the from-time-to-time check-ups by my mom and dad.

i used to like that. i used to.

maybe it's because my thoughts are rather unbecomingly, turning into a bad companion. maybe it's just really me.

because i had nothing else to do. and my ears have been screaming music:

http://forthesakeofurl.imeem.com/

it's a playlist site, the sort. but you have to sign up to hear it. won't take more than a few minutes to do.

cute.

silent and drifting.

that's what i've found myself becoming these days; with a cup of coffee and crackers sprawled on the floor as my companion and dinner, i sit staring at the playful colors of yellow, red, and white in the canvas of the night sky. i've found a place quite similar to when i was a six year old beneath the covers of pillows and blankets and stuffed toys. but instead of imaginary houses or hidden gardens, i met my abode with the heights of a fifteen floor building and the gustling wind.

i'm liking it up here, really.

everything's different now. like it has always been, and always will be.

can you feel it changing--notice it happening little by little? just like a year before and years before when other people who we call friends now were strangers in the background. what makes it all seem so intimidating when it's something that we all have to face sooner or later? does acceptance or submission come with change? or do we fight with the tides of circumstance to keep change from happening though that itself would lead to the inevitable?

i hear the wind whistle its goodbye to summer and all its promise of crisp blue sea and the cloudless sky. i see the sun get smothered by the gray clouds of rainy season. it's another chapter and i don't know where i am or how many more there will be. but it will always feel like this, it will always feel like everything's new.

and that's bittersweet to me.

i discovered that it is in the presence of failure that the desire of greatness overcomes the temptation of pathetic revenge that never fulfills anything but the empty feeling of getting back at the world with something in a pathetic and self-degrading manner.

and with knees bent and both hands kissing the rough gravel, i try to think of reasons why i need to get up from this. i hear voices from the shadows telling me that there is too much that the world has thrown on me; and that even trying to fight with the little bit of sanity i have left is a futile attempt to change a tragic ending. i've felt the fear crawl back in my lungs and in the tips of my fingers when i thought i had convinced myself that i will succeed in taking back everything i need to get back. amidst the humdrum of everyday assignments, intelligent guesses and remarks, one day weekends, and daily conversations that never really tell anything about anyone, i have programmed my mind to correct the mistakes i have made without wanting to learn from them.

because i never had enough strength to make myself believe in the power of the words, "i can." never had it in my heart to make every beat of my effort count as worthwhile. blame it on too much mornings and afternoons and evenings of looking at myself in the mirror and being disappointed of what i see. i have killed my heart in order for my head to work. and i don't feel alive.

and that is in itself another mistake. a big mistake. one that i really, direly, need to learn from.

goodlordhelpme.

i have lost words when there is so much to say. when there is so much to explain.

i wish i could take it back.

the times i have underestimated circumstance. the times i have, with both hands, led myself to my own grave without having anyone push me six feet under the ground because, in fact, i believe they were actually reaching out to help me. the musings when i let myself resign to the belief that this is as good as it gets when i have not started to gather even the slightest inch of courage to step out and really live. not the kind of living that consists of me looking back in hurt and regret for the things i didn't do. for the lives i couldn't save. and for myself that i could not redeem.

i've heard and seen it all. maybe less from the mouths of people; but i've read it and understood some of it from the words delivered in poetry just so it wouldn't suffer of being mundane and people would give time to say that it's different--that this is different. but i've seen it and everybody else does though they, in stuttered sentences and downcast eyes say they don't. faces that tell a story in a second of an instance. small actions that say everything that silence had hidden. it is the kind of truth that inevitably would float to the surface like oil because it did not matter how deep of a water the lies were.

we all can't help but want to find a stop button somewhere and rewind and go back to the times we see behind closed eyes. to change certain things and erase tatooed mistakes, or live them all over again.

it is only those who have experienced failure and discontentment will the desire of greatness be so strong as it overcomes the temptation of getting revenge that never really measures anything other than hopelessness.

read on:

How do you measure yourself?

I've seen people measure themselves by the number of friends they have, how many expensive shoes they own, what their GPA's are. I've known people who value themselves by the pound, by the inch, by the complexity of their words or by the magnitude of their paycheck. We keep trying to create value for ourselves every day. We put our lives on the auction block and keep hoping that someone bids higher and higher. The bill keeps adding up: good job, nice new car, no college debts, trust funds, never been touched, never been kissed, one, twice, three times a lady. Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to have people come with the same information you find in the side panels of cereal boxes. Product trivia, nutrition information, ingredients, freshness guarantee, recipes to enhance the experience of consumption and expiry dates. In this consumer driven world, people are starting to look like commodities anyway. Sometimes, the standards by which we measure ourselves could hardly be considered human. How much would it cost to keep it? Which country did it come from? How old is it? Has it been trained? Does it come with a lifetime warranty? Is it rare? Is it real? I guess, the difference between me and a bag of potato chips is that it would hurt me terribly if I were left alone on a shelf. Or if I were red-tagged. Or if I were put on a blue-light special. It would just about push me to expiration if I were placed on the sale rack or if I ever found myself in the return/exchange counter. I'd hate to think that we consume people now. I don't want to have to worry about the re-sale value of my children. Measure per pound of flesh. How much do we pay for the heart?

c/o Choc (edited my Karl)

so now...

what can you say about the term that's been?

green.

orange.

the stoplights turned red. and i held my breath, closed my eyes and tried to see what i could not fathom with my eyes wide and blinking. there's something about the darkness that seems to shed light in things. something in emptiness that helps us regard what is there and isn't. something in understanding that leaves us occupied with comprehending the unknown. always a bit that is a puzzle which would randomly constitute in everything. and everylittlething in something.

what would the pieces be? what would finally make it whole?

i had my head up to the crimson colored sky. finding pictures and words when there is none.

the revving of engines and horns were the noise that kept me from believing i was somewhere else. my cell phone rang music that collided with the noise, and i was trying hard to comprehend my thoughts in between dreaming and reality. i watched the sky as sun gave way to the blanket of stars, enjoying the cool wind in this warmth of the summer. i felt the ground and the sky run its course, because the clouds that stole my eyes from everything else were like waves on canvas made by someone who had captured the very essence of it constantly shifting and changing. it never looked the same.

i was reminded then, as if the universe had somehow conspired to discipline me, amidst the flicker of building lights, and an airplane like a shooting star of red and white, that the world won't stop now, or any other time for anything or anyone. and any moment that brings about the feeling of the earth suddenly halting and forces breaking all the laws of time and space, would still become memories once a second has passed. and yet another. and the only thing crystallized were the things we wanted to be so. certain moments, words, or pictures that have meaning. that had life.

but even those things get old too.

i had my head buried on my pillow that night, with my trembling hand punching the keypads and trying to explain to a friend,

i don't want to fail because it would mean to me that i've failed just about everything.

..knowing it is probably the only thing that i have control over

right now. i don't want to screw this up.

i don't want to wake up in the morning, eyes sore with the feeling of not being good enough.

i will pick myself the crap up and deal.

tomorrow, maybe.. or the day after that. or Godknowswhen. i know i will.

but right now, i'll just brood.

after all, i could never make myself turn away.

writing on a piece of paper napkin with the traces of damp circles as accidental art. in realizations of me on days such as these. coffee in one hand and pen in the other, i keep my stance in facing the repercussions and musings of what life has been. my eyes wander aimlessly about the world in its course around me while my heart stays resigned in its silence.

this is where i hide away from everyone else and i find myself--in between the warm comfort of company and the freedom of independence. a nook among beautiful strangers who care less than give anyone a second glance.

and this is where i realize i've been waiting and trying to understand this. resting my chin at the back of my hand and peering past the stoplights and the cars; staring at the corner for something. anything. as if pieces of me have always waited here to be picked up.

i know i lost myself somewhere along the streetlights and pedestrians and the constant noise of horns and tires. i lost my thought somewhere here too. i just hope i can get them back.

..and get myself back.

because i see monsters, and those monsters look a lot like me.

she fell into a strange silence with small creases of frown forming in her forehead. her eyes squinted to a sideway glance. there was a quickness in her voice when she finally spoke that gave away the notion that something was wrong.

he was there sitting at the back. a reminder of a friend who wasn't one anymore. the awkwardness came like a disease from memory, never failing to give a bitter taste of why's and the reasons why it is.

a wave of resignation befell her. there was no saving here, and an attempt was simply futile. she gripped her books tighter as she got inside the van and sat up front. and there, away from the prying look, she closed her eyes and breathed a heavy sigh.

it is the same scene.

i could smell the scent of rain through the wet breeze coming from the window screen.

it is going to rain in a while. i am sure of it.

if thoughts were easily sifted from the tangles of wants and needs and mere musings of nothingness, like the coming of rain could be easily predicted from the gray clouds and the sharp hint of cold, it would probably be easier to bear with the consequences that the storm would bring. rather than shooting our way out of things without any presence of hesitation to step back. out of situations. out of choices. like going through a typhoon with only an umbrella clasped in both hands, knowing the howling wind would pull us from our tracks, or push us further.

sanity isn't the thing keeping my composure intact; it's the idea of grabbing a hold of it that is.

so i have come to wonder how it happened that it was gone. if there ever was a time when the absence of innocence did not mean the death of dreaming. was it the reason people why people stopped admiring the stars when it shone the brightest against the blackness of night? is it what the grown-ups would try to make sense of in clear-toned voices of why teenagers swim in angst and hositilty? they were kids once too. kids who knew too well of something and too little of everything. and the kids in us died because we refused to save them.

and i find myself looking down at my stepped-by-so-many-times-on-purpose dirty sneakers.

it wasn't because of the inability to look up and see the sun shining without any trace of gray clouds in the summer sky. or the hesitation to see the good in everything . i chose to admire how the mud and dirt and the stickers on my chucks makes me want to stare down and take vain pictures of my feet than do otherwise. it makes my eyes grow in realization that it's the imperfection that makes something perfect. that black makes something more white, and white makes something darker than black. like a certain feeling could possibly heighten another because they are two sides of something that you cannot quite feel at the same moment.i cannot say which is greener on which side.

all i can say is that there are multitude of colors on both sides which could be better than just the color green.

what makes us fight even though the world has chosen to make us fall? what makes us push through with our reason when it was spat on as blasphemy? what makes us bleed for that small ounce of hope that we could only pray for the gods? for honor? love? what is victory when we have already died?

and what makes us lose when everyone else believes that we have won?

maybe someday i would see you again and you'd look me in my eyes and call me your friend.

it's just there--even amidst the colorful bright lights, the hypnotizing music, of all the booze and smoke. basking in the hiatus of a night that was for enjoyment. in the feeling of happiness, it hits us in between moments when we are left unguarded. in a perfect picture of everything that is beautiful, it does not fail to be recognized that there is something that keeps our eyes darted away from such a scene. loneliness. of having to feel a rush of joy and have that plummet to the ground when we suddenly realize that deep down, we're all just looking for an escape. we're all just making excuses not to deal with reality. it's like falling in love with a frame of a moment, or a painting, because it's probably everything that's not wrong with the world.

okay. back to reality again.

sometimes i wonder where the decent conversations have gone to. when reciprocating wasn't needed and wasn't asked for. sometimes i just wonder where it all went. and if it even has a chance of going back.

how do you come about a dead end?

does it mean that the journey you have made now count for naught? does it mean anything less when we knew before this that we were going somewhere? it seems that the barricades and warning signs prevent us from falling further than we already have. it keeps us away from the impending tragedy that lies ahead. but is there really nothing more to look forward to? or will time pave a detour--or even better--a fixed road in replace of that dead end?

certain memories find their ways into your heart. sometimes it takes someone to say something for them to remember. sometimes it takes the same scene for it to all go reeling like a tape set on rewind. sometimes it takes in the form of a person, or a thing, or a phrase. and most of the time, it takes in the form of emptiness--of something missing or lacking in the picture that you swore you had, before all of this.

pms-ing [plus the cramps. good lord, help me,]. and my best buddy for this is a bottle of wine. wee.

this is what three consecutive exams about matrices, circuits, physics and a whole lot of numbers does to people: it makes them stupid with everything else. as for me, it's making me terribly illiterate.

the thing about it is, studying is easy. no matter how much profanities prove otherwise--exams are easy, anything to do with the facts are--if you know how to work your way into them. it's not something you cannot learn by yourself. it's not something that's not proven or understood by over a million people and by your prof that's prolly experiencing over two weeks long of menopause. having a 4.0 in a subject isn't as impossibly crazy or out of this world as being able to break space time continuoum. it's something everyone of us can do. people are just lazy, or whatever. we have our reasons that work the magic of escape.

but real life, unlike books, lessons, and exams, is entirely different. you can't just make your way out of a predicament as you can fake your way into creating your own theories by explaining like a self-righteous idealist. you can't just analyze and have a well constructed conclusion in a data & results kind-of-way as to why certain things happen when circumstances turn out of a corner you never thought was there in the first place. and it's funny how it turns out that the things that we really need to learn in life--things like, how to deal with the pain of losing someone. or that innocence just lasts right until you get to taste the bittersweet slice of the real world, or when you realize that 'and they all live happily ever after' aren't endings at all. you know, things we always ask with our tongues hidden behind our clenched teeth; how to make someone stay, how to say the truth without inflicting a massive blow, about love, friendship, relationships, and fighting like hell for the hope of a deserving life--are the ones not taught at school or are found in how-to-books. i guess it's the way with life that the things that really matter can't be merely explained by idealists or scientists or even writers like me.

i never wanted sympathy or pity. i wanted the truth.

for the sake of a post, and for the sake of advertising a music-worthy band:
http://www.purevolume.com/battlecity
http://www.myspace.com/believeinbattlecity

***

it isn't supposed to be like this, is it?... it wasn't supposed to be this hard. but it is.. and i hope you find it somewhere in your heart to make this all go away. even just a little bit.

so maybe it is a loss of words. or the hesitation to want to say it all. or the temptation to just curl up in a corner and hide behind the world.

but i have so much to say. and just as much to ask. but i'm far from wanting answers because i know i'll never get them. i'll never get the truth no matter how much i pray for the lies to fall off. and for once, i just wish everything would go back to the way it was.. back when it wasn't this hard to smile..

everything's gonna be alright soon, right?

so that's what it felt like.

but i've got other dreams that are worth fighting for. but these are the dreams that are so distant and fleeting for me to even grasp.

my brain is on hiatus. so goes with this blog.

time? it's the one thing we don't have, and when we do--the one thing we always abuse.