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. 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!:)

     
     
  2. 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

     
     
  3. 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

     
     
  4. 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

     
     
  5. A Life in the Works

    Way back in high school the only thing that comes to mind when you hear the word college is maturity. And I guess, in ways more than one, I had never been so right. Prior to entering college, I could say that I was well aware of what was happening in our society, in our nation… in our country. I knew to a certain degree that I am here to be with and for others and more importantly to do more than what I knew is enough and to choose the highest good at all times. But upon months of immersing myself in the University and taking up the FFP curriculum; the awareness, the level of understanding and maturity altogether was brought to an entirely higher level. And this is where I’ll start.

    I am a part of society; in fact we all are. I may try to turn a blind eye to whatever is happening in and to our country, but the reality still remains intact and true, nevertheless. The reality that our country needs help—-that it needs me and in actuality each and everyone of us. And as a part of this nation, I too, hold the responsibility of doing something; anything to be of service not only to this country but most especially to that of my fellow Filipinos as well. I may be young, but young as I am, I play a central and apparently a very crucial part in this society for it is in my hands as well as in a few thousand others, the power t change the unjust structures that are adamant in our country. Let’s face it, corruption comes in all forms, shapes and sizes in the Philippines. It is like a plague—-a cancer you may call it that needs cure as soon as possible. But the best thing about it is that the cure had already been found! The cure of which is found in me, in you and in every Filipino that sees himself as a part and stronghold of this nation.

    As much as we are all completely unique as individuals, still, we are all perfectly the same. Man is a social being. It is in my nature, as well as in yours, to heed social interaction; to mingle, get acquainted with others and ultimately form relationships that would make or maybe even break me. It is through others that I’ll get to know more of myself and free me from the ignorance of not knowing who I really am and of what I am capable f doing. It is through others that I get t have a vague understanding of what I could be here for: to be with others and find the fulfillment I am hungry for in my day to day interaction with everybody else that is part of my life.

    “What have I done for Christ?” A question I never once asked myself until now. I have answers but it’s a shameful fact that I could only name a few compared to what He has done for me. But as I go through the days, I was confronted not with the former question but with the question, “What more can I do for him?” And the answer couldn’t get any simpler; just as Matthew 24:50 goes, “…I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one f the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me..” I simply just have to go for the best and choose the highest good at all times—-in any given situation and in every decision made.

    There are still a lot of things that I’ve come to learn in my FFP subject, but these three; namely citizenship (patriotism), sociality (fulfillment of self through and with others) and last but definitely not the least Magis, had greater impact on me than the rest. These three, among other things, have greatly shaped me; my place in the society, my understanding of the world and more importantly of myself.

    ~sai

     
     
  6. Downhill

    should i change my life or miss my flight?

    well i guess, i already did. i had missed my flight and there’s no way i could run to catch it again. it’s never coming back, no refunds, no rescheduling. it was a one time affair and i missed it. wretchedly missed it.

    i want get out of the city without offering anybody of my whereabouts. without having to explain the why’s, without having to change my plans just so i could accommodate everyone else’s and in the process, pleasing myself as well as the other people around me. but at the same time , thereby fettering myself to a bout of delusions that, yes, i am needed; that yes, somebody wanted me as company.

    i am tired of pretensions that get the better of me, and by so doing, i am not even sure what for, to whom and as to why pretending has now become a necessity for me. i want this life, more so my actions to make sense, because i, for that matter, don’t make any sense even to myself anymore.

    i want to break free. to take flight and take my own sweet time to feel free again. i’ve been a prisoner of my own inhibitions, delusions and pretensions for far too long that i don’t know which part of myself has already become an inhibition, a delusion and worse a pretension in itself.

    i want to breathe in air again, without having to breathe in, at the same time, what my next course of action should be. i want to be free and yet imprisoned, at the same time, by this sense of freedom. a freedom close-linked to selfishness; and that i am very well aware of. nevertheless, i want this selfishness to get the better of me. to engulf my senses and numb me for all its worth and by so doing allowing me to get over it sooner than later.

    i want to get it back.

    i want to be in control and yet feel helpless at the same time. what i want is to be seen and not just merely looked at. i don’t want to be listened to, i want to be heard. i want to speak without talking, scream without shouting and cry without tearing up. i want to laugh without having to feel empty afterward.

    i am tired. and i want to know when this weariness will end.

    ~sai :(