it'a all about the wordplay

she is a beautiful mess. an exaggerated simplicity. a chaotic serenity. a free prisoner. a wild tamed. she is a silent noise. a gentle scream. a feeble strength. a shy confidence. an on-going halt. she is a fascinating nightmare. a cheerful sadness. the sweetest sorrow. a truthful lie. she is sai.

*all posts are hauled from my other account. some of these are from a year ago.*

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  1. Brick

    resilience is one thing, but recovering is another. bottling everything up is chivalrous. heroic, even. it makes you hurt nobody other than yourself. but sometimes the water in the dam gets too high up you find yourself drowning. you flail your arms around, thrash your legs—your own version of swimming. but just the same you tire out. and you discover that floating on the surface is better. kinder. less exhausting. 

    you float. aimlessly. never really realizing the fact that the water underneath you still continues to build up and someday, you might topple off the edge.

    but even better. you discover a crack. slowly, you’re losing control. you can’t help it. you drown. you gasp for air. tiny bubbles escape your mouth instead of words. 

    you open the gates—or try to. closed on and submerged for years; it had rust.

    you realize your time is slowly slipping from your grasp. one tiny bubble after another, your life flash before your eyes. 

    death. it sounds like oxygen to your hypoxiated life.

    you end your struggles. you sink.

    the crack. you remember the crack. 

    and with the last of your efforts, you find your way towards it. a little more push is what it needs and it would give away.

    it does. 

    blocks upon blocks of brick tumble their way down.

    air.

    air surges in and you almost choke on it. it takes a long time before your hacking stops and ultimately, you feel better.

    and amidst the debris you find yourself bruised and scarred from the chaos.

    nevertheless, you breathe normally again.


     
     
  2. i didn’t know it was such a bad idea..

    ..to actually read one day first before sundays at tiffany’s.

    seriously. i am now finding james patterson mediocre when it comes to romantic novels (barring of course suzanne’s diary for nicholas which was just heartbreaking if not a total tear-jerker TT)

    it didn’t help that i’ve read honeymoon (another romantic novel of his mingled with some thriller— or lack thereof) months ago and just like sundays at tiffany’s it was too short, too soon, too underdeveloped and too abrupt all at the same time.

    pity, he’s got really good and interesting characters: an imaginary friend, a woman trapped with her overbearing successful broadway producer for a mother, the overbearing producer for a mother who had this really weird way of showing her love for her daughter— by being overbearing that is.

    the concept was really supposed to be good. it gives you a background glimpse of broadway stages, of the people behind it and how these productions turns out to be the way it is— but apparently that’s only what it can give you: a glimpse. for others it may have been enough and i suppose i could let it pass but then again it happened as well with the characters. it was as if the book itself was just a glimpse of what really happened.

    michael is supposed to be this imaginary friend; a handsome 30-ish guy who is funny, unbearably sweet and full of wit.

    granted he doesn’t have every answer to jane’s questions and this added some mystery to his existence but somehow he falls short to being mysterious because of the very same reasons. 

    he is imaginary, and then just as suddenly he was. i see no character build-up there. and to think he really was an awesome character, him being imaginary and falling in love with a person— somebody who is tangible at the very least.

    yeah. i was pretty much shocked myself when all of a sudden i was already in the last pages of the book.

    jane. ooh, jane-sweetie. at least there was some charcter build-up and even though it cliche, still you could easily give a space for her in your heart. especially if you love food, more so desserts and oreos. ha! though as i’ve said, everything was too sudden, even the character build-up. but nevertheless, jane is effortlessly funny herself. a bit insecure just like the rest of us but still not altogether spineless. 

    and lastly, her mother. ooh. i am just so glad vivienne isn’t my mom. or else..

    okay. i should just stop there. haha.

    but regardless of my pointless criticism, the book is interesting, funny and heartwarming. if, that is, you know how to look in the right places; may it be at the st. regis hotel on sunday afternoons, at tiffany’s on one of the worst mornings of your life, a leisurely walk on fancy upper east side or anywhere in the heart of new york city.

    ~sai

     
     
  3. Trigonometry

    I really should just stop being depressed and get a grip of myself. I have trigo finals coming up tomorrow and I haven’t exactly got even a glimpse of my notes or the horrifying book itself. Absolutely did nothing productive today. Read a book that is totally unrelated to the subjects I should actually be concentrating on. Got my eyes glued on the television for a couple of hours, saw how Philippine soap operas are getting downright ridiculous, how the stars in Party Pilipinas don’t know a single thing about the word dancing. Seriously, the word’s a verb; not some fancy adjective you get to accesorize yourself with. And no, wearing skin tight pants and black shiny top that shows a little bit of skin isn’t hot. Especially when it’s coupled with awkward flailing of arms and legs. The fantastic curls won’t even do.

    But of course, I’m bias like that.

    Not that I’m saying Maja is way better when she definitely is.

    Oh. And they totally ruined Eraserheads’ songs with that mediocre musical prod.

    I swear Elai would’ve had a seizure if she ever saw it.

    Rachelle Ann Go, Y U LEAVE ASAP??

    But I really wouldn’t say ASAP fared better today. It’s just that PP was worse.

    GAH.

    I don’t even know why I’m wasting time typing this piece of…my mind.

    I fairly think this is caffeine talking. I’m really no good when it comes to coffee. Feels like I’m drunk or something.

    Okay.

    I should just stop. Sorry ‘bout all that blabbering about nonesense.

    Good evening!:)

     
     
  4. Glace

    It’s cold.

    The rain happily splashes away on the roof making sounds that dutifully disturbs your sleep.

    You wake up; sleep in your eyes.

    You open your eyes to darkness, and you struggle for sight.

    It’s cold.

    Silence.

    That is all you ever hear.

    And beneath the dark backdrop, the thoughts, without warning, come unbidden.

    You try to stop it. Freeze it over time; tuck it away in the deepest recesses of your mind.

    You lose.

    Thoughts, memories, come undone.

    Nostalgia swept through you and hastily, you can’t breathe.

    You pull the sheets closer to you.

    It’s cold.

    The thoughts ran and dance about, joyously pirouetting with memories.

    Memories long gone, too far behind, too happy to remember.

    And then the onslaught of tears.

    Breathing now became a burden.

    The pain, like a dull knife cuts through.

    You close your eyes and realize what a bad idea it was.

    The voices become louder, the memories more vivid.

    The scars open like fresh wounds.

    It’s cold.

    The rain happily splashes away.

    It’s cold.

    The darkness penetrates your being.

    It’s cold.

    And loneliness is your blanket.

    It’s cold.

    Death, your peace.

    It’s cold.

    It’s cold.

     
     
  5. "And before I knew what was going on. Before I had the chance to retaliate; I lost. And for the most part. I felt helpless. Anger consumed me. Sadness overwhelmed me. Happiness will be a thing of the past. I lost everything in the process. I lost you."
    — Sai
     
     
  6. break into the habit

    maybe there are just people who thrive with routines. and i guess i’m not one of them. i embrace change not necessarily with open arms, but rather with an accepting and hopeful heart.

    i cannot always hope for life to give me sunny days and the summer sky. what it can offer me though are three more seasons to enjoy, to suffer, to cry out, to be angry, to love. to get out of the routines i could be unconsciously and maybe for some gladly trapped in, even just for a month, a day, an hour, a minute.

    i’ll never get to know what i’ll find if, just for one day, i decided to take the road less taken or choosing a random place to eat lunch rather than the usual spot beneath some tall tree. that frequently traveled road will always be there and so will be that tree that houses my usual lunch spot.

    sure they’ll miss me (if ever they are capable of feeling that is) and pretty much the other way around, but, i tell you what, one thing i am pretty much sure of routines is that i can always go back to them.

    it may seem awkward and hard at first. it will be as if starting from scratch yet again but if it’s worth it, it’s worth it! everything will eventually fall right into their respective places. besides, when you badly want something, all the universe conspires for you to achieve it.

    changes are inevitable as routines are predictable. they come and they go. for what it’s worth, change is a routine in itself. a routine that i can bring myself to follow…and stop from anytime i would want to and need to.

    and just like any other routine out there, one i could go back to with hesitant steps but a firm and yet again a hopeful heart.

    ~sai

     
     
  7. Of Coincidences, Comfort and Text Messages

    “Death is not the end
    Death can never be the end.
    Death is the road.
    Life is the traveller.
    The Soul is the Guide
    Our mind thinks of death.
    Our heart thinks of life
    Our soul thinks of Immortality.”

    It’s weird.

    Not too long ago, I had been crying over missing Lola.

    For everything there is a season,

    Then suddenly, I got this text message from a friend saying that her Lolo whom she was close to died early this morning. A time where I would just suddenly wake up these past few days.

    And a time for every matter under heaven:

    I could still remember that one lunch break wherein she called me with this soft voice of hers that clearly meant I’m sad and I need someone to spill something out. 

    A time to be born, and a time to die;
    A time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
    A time to kill, and a time to heal;
    A time to break down, and a time to build up;
    A time to weep, and a time to laugh;

    I could even remember the awkward one-armed hug I gave her while she cried and talked about her Lolo. I could remember my futile attempt at crying too. Maybe because I felt the pain. And I guess, there was no better way but to share the pain she was being burdened with.

    A time to mourn, and a time to dance;
    A time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
    A time to embrace, And a time to refrain from embracing;
    A time to seek, and a time to lose;
    A time to keep, and a time to throw away;

    It wasn’t that long ago too, when my Lola poked me with flashbacks and tears.

    A time to tear, and a time to sew;
    A time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

    All will be well Yang.

    A time to love, and a time to hate,
    A time for war, and a time for peace.

    Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

    ~sai

     
     
  8. Of Alice, Missing and Sweet Honesty

    Its 5:30pm.

    I just had a real good dose of crying and apparently it still isn’t stopping. I even had to rush out of the room and keep myself busy so as to keep the tears from falling—- dramatic as it may seem. I don’t really know how and when this started but I have a feeling that jeepney ride had something to do with it.

    You see, I was seated between two old ladies who were the same age as my Lola—- if only she were here today. I had Timbaland and Katy Perry belting at the top of their lungs through my earphones and all I could think about was my grandmother and her too sweet of a smell that was and is still unmistakably, “Sweet Honesty”. It was all I could do from crying right then and there. All of a sudden, flashbacks became a fad in my tired brain. I remembered her smile, the way her laugh lines would show when her lips tilt upwards. The weird sounds she’d make when she’s trying her best to surprise or scare me—-and eventually failing miserably at it. The little trinkets she’d buy for me whenever she takes a visit to her doctor—-all those chocnuts she really loves, and candies that never seem to be gone from the insides of her pockets. God, I even remembered her vanity of vanities; the way she’d walk around the house showing off her new curls, or the quiet knocking on my parents’ room and then announcing quite funnily to my mom “Ging! Wala nako’y Eskinol!” or “Wala nako’y sabon!” which clearly meant Mama has to buy her new ones pronto!

    It was a relief when I got off the jeep and I was distracted by thinking about my grades and the grades I’d be getting for a friend. For about 3 hours, I completely or forcefully tried rather to shove the reminiscing at the very back of my mind. I was successful. For quite some time that is. It was actually a bit easy. All it took was the summerheat, a trip to the dean’s office, a talk on Shiela’s small dilemmas, books by Arbie and Nee.chan, some teasing (and a bit of insulting) session with Thirdy, repeated trips to the Biology department and finding out that my grades qualified for being a DL. Yep. Very easy indeed.

    12 noon.

    I had to separate from everybody because I had promised that I would be going to church for I hadn’t yesterday. The mass was celebrated in English so I didn’t really have much of a problem in digesting it. However, after I’d received communion, through a pretty little girl’s eyes, I remembered Lola again. It was painful. I never knew missing could be that painful. Especially when you know you won’t ever be seeing that smile, the laugh lines and that perfect silver mane again. It was embarrassing. Before I knew it, something hot and liquid stung my eyes and I had to look away at the innocent little girl’s onyx pools. It was about the same time people were filling out of the church and all I could do was surround myself in that sea of unknown faces to calm myself. It was rewarding. The brisk walking did well too.

    But then again, it didn’t stop the onset of another bout of flashbacks. I swear I could taste that ‘adobo’ with a distinct taste that only she could make and one that my brother had been trying to perfect but to no avail. It didn’t help that I passed by the Avon office where her perfume “Sweet Honesty” could be bought.

    Anyway, I followed Shiela and Arbie to Mcdo where they were having their lunch and somehow, we started talking about many things—grandmothers included. It was really good talking to them about my Lola even though it had to be masked with smiles and laughter. Still, it was fun and somehow, the sadness and maybe pain was ebbed away with the smiles. When I look back at it now, the laughs didn’t seem that forced after all. Somehow, the mindless, endless conversation we all three had, had eased the heavy burden that was at the tip of my lashes. It was just simply amazing how friends could do that.

    After that, I went home leaving the both of them alone for shoe-shopping. I had to go home, I had two very good books with me and nothing could ever best distract me but a good reading material and in this case two of them which is just all the more better. Out of the two, I picked the one entitled “Go Ask Alice” because it was thinner and I was supposed to hand it out to Arbie on Wednesday. Anyway, I finished it in one sitting but I suppose I’m going to have to save the review for another post. I went outside my room (I did my reading there) to check if the internet connection was back up again and found myself completely alone in the house. My brothers usually find it more charming to stray in the basketball courts than stay cooped up in our little house. So, moving on, I went back up again without turning the computer on (I suddenly got tired and fed up) and just before reaching and turning in the knob to my room, I started bawling out! Seriously. I just slumped on the floor and cried. I cried. And cried some more. I was missing my Lola, and I was missing Elai, Norielle, Yang, Tisha and Pia. Hell, I’d even go out of my way to say I missed Mikee too! And terribly so. Feeling a bit self-conscious minutes later, I went inside my room and then started crying again. Thinking about it now, it seemed kind of funny. Well, at least to me. I even had a pillow cover my face and I started sobbing. It was comforting though. Actually, crying always do that to people, right? But no, I’m more like talking about the sobbing part of crying. I don’t know. Maybe, it’s because I’ve been crying quietly for a very long time now that I forgot how it is to sob. LOL.

    So yeah. And that is how I got here facing the computer typing away while busily trying to stop the onset of tears. Again.

    It’s tiring trying to remember everything. And even more when trying to forget. God, I need sleep and lots of it. Goodbye internet for the time being.

    ~sai

     
     
  9. "Would it be too selfish to need being needed?"
    — Sai
     
     
  10. SUMMER doesn’t END with SUNNY days being OVER

    Just before turning 23, I’d very much LOVE to take a tour to these places. And by tour I meant walkathones, food trips and pictures galore! ;p Of course it’s not like I haven’t been to some of these places. It’s just that it’d be wonderful to walk down their pavements again without worrying over the next bus to ride, next ship to board or the next plane to catch. It’d be amazing to relive experiences and this time capture them in film and commit them to memory. Right?

    So, I’m gonna start off in..

    MINDANAO:

    • Davao
    • Bukidnon
    • Zamboanga
    • Surigao
    • General Santos
    • Samal
    • Camiguin
    • Initao

    VISAYAS:

    • Cebu
    • Siquijor
    • Bacolod
    • Guimaras
    • Iloilo
    • Boracay
    • Bohol

    ..and actually the list goes on and on and on :))

    LUZON:

    • Palawan
    • Albay
    • Batangas
    • Tagaytay
    • Baguio
    • Manila
    • Batanes
    • Babuyan Islands

    If you’d notice, they are all in the Philippines. Well, yes, before actually dreaming of traveling outside the country, I might as well start off with somewhere reachable and very available.

    So who’s up for it?:)

    ~sai