current music: The Mass Effect 3 OST playing in my mind in the quiet evening.

I take for granted how a house is full of strange memories. You have closets, drawers, shelves. There are boxes, folders, envelopes, bags. They all contain things. They can be papers from school, some you liked, some you never read. They can be old trinkets: gifts, keepsakes, things to help you remember.

I am in the house den. I was digging through the things because, like any video game enthusiast on a budget, I was looking for something old to install on my PC. From there, I'd fire up something old, just to help me pass the time. It's like reading an old book for me, these old games. The pixels and the sounds are what fill the imagination much like the pages of well-worn favorites.

In my sifting through the CD's, I saw old mixtapes I made from college. Some of them were from the plays I was directing for class. Others were backups of old favorite hip-hop tracks I picked up along the way. There were also DVD's mixed up with the audio CD's, some were old software copies that the publishers likely didn't remember anymore. Still others were CD's that hadn't even been opened up yet, likely bought off the shelf on discount and never given much attention to.

Our homes are like our minds. They house things we can't remember, or years we prefer to tune out and forget. We clean them out every now and then, re-evaluating the junk that piles up and discarding what we don't need. We upgrade, or we replace, or we augment what we have. Rarely we keep something past its need-due-date, unless it's especially old, or especially special. Or only if we have the space at home.

I'm starting to reflect that our family is fond of remembering. We have a largish house. There are lots of things we don't need. These things, we are too unwilling to part with. You wonder sometimes if the old arguments we had or old grudges we keep bringing up as a family reflect in our things. Like, every time you look at a row of encyclopedia books on a shelf, you remember the day you wanted to pound your five year old brother with them, or the time you look at a statue, you wonder if your teenage daughter and that boy she fancied was worth the restless shouting contest that kept the neighbors up.

And likewise, I wonder if people with smaller houses don't remember. I wonder if it's easier for them to let go of bad habits or bad memories. If they're less burdened by dusty, suffocating thoughts. If they're happier.

Dancing Drawings

(cross posted on heaven-spawn.livejournal.com)

I don't watch much TV, but when I do, I watch cartoons.

I really don't remember how it began, but for all my life, my great love has been animation. More specifically, cartoons.

I remember when I was about 2 or 3 years old, I started trying to draw. My parents remember how the walls of our old home were covered in crayon wax. I even remember that the color was left on for a long time. I suppose they were either sentimental, or they wanted to make me feel like what I scrawled on them was special. Still. I remember moving my hands, making shapes. I loved lessons I learned about shapes too: squares, triangles, circles. I liked trying to put images on paper, even if I was never at all very good at it (and still not). Skill and love are not always the same thing.

I did, however, remember a time when I saw a cartoon. It must have been Mickey Mouse, because I remember how he looked like he was made of simple shapes: circles. I thought I could draw that. But he moved.

I looked for a sheet of paper and I tried to approximate Mickey with pencil. He looked more like a bean afterwards. And to add to my frustration: the TV version moved. Mine didn't.

And he talked! It was just gibberish then. Later, I got to see other cartoons and started deriving meaning from language properly, it was more than just pictures. They were stories. They were characters. They were a world that didn't exist (they weren't "real life" like the news shows of my parents or the drama shows of the house helpers), but they were more fun.

Video games were an even bigger source of amazement. Cartoons, and I could make them move! I finally had a way to 'paint' my own cartoon story, thanks to moving pixels and electronics. When Mario jumped, he did it because I said so, unlike that hapless coyote who falls for the Road Runner's tricks. Games then never looked as nice as the TV shows, but I didn't mind. (On some days, I'd watch the "Super Mario Brothers' Super Show" on Channel 2 and clutch the controller of our Family Computer, as if I were guiding Mario save Princess Peach yet again.)

To this day I still watch cartoons. Age didn't make me dismiss them as for kids only: learning about how they are made and the time it takes made me really, really get into them deeper. I read somewhere that one episode of "The Simpsons" used to take up to 148 days to finish: writing, drawing, voice acting, the works. It would take much longer for an epic like "The Lion King" or "WALL-E". The stories also didn't necessarily have to be for children either; any fan of anime will attest to that.

There's anime, there's CGI, there's traditional cel-based shows, and I'd watch them all. Hell, I still watch cartoons on TV. I guess you never really leave a love you've had for years on end.

Here's a couple of favorite TV shows I've nurtured. I'll leave out anime for this post; there are too many!





The Real Ghostbusters came first, but Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles really put me on the road to liking cartoons forever! It was fate, I guess, that I had the same name as my favorite one, the sarcastic Raphael. It was a kids' favorite for lots of reasons: memorable characters, ninja fighting action, and that song! The remakes in the 2000's never got that charm back, but still, this one I remember very fondly.





The Simpsons used to appear regularly on Fridays, back in a time when Friday evenings on local TV were exclusively for children. I liked it then because it was funny slapstick. I got older, and started understanding the more outrageous comedy, particularly the provocative jokes that blew right past my 8-year old self. To this day, I still think it's good comedy. I still look for this when I channel surf. 23 years down and it's still interesting, never mind the shine came off some years ago.




I must be the only one who misses cartoons on Fridays on Philippine TV. Batman: The Animated Series made its debut in this city through those Friday nights. At the time, it was a sit-in to replace the Ninja Turtles when the series started to spiral out. Little did anybody know it would be a masterpiece of animated storytelling, and broadcast to a whole country every week for years! The X-Men series had more fans, and The Simpsons was more mature, but Batman was like the basketball pick and roll: fundamental and core to any cartoon fan's experience. And yes, it did explore deep ideas like psychosis, regret, and ultimately self-redemption. Hell, if I have kids one day I want them to grow up watching this too.





Codename: Kids Next Door was pure fun for me, mostly because it had a certain nostalgia only grown-ups can understand. The kids are the heroes, the adults are villains, and they fight for the right to enjoy their youth: candy, playtime, and tree houses all included. I also liked how the characters, who are children, all know and understand the inevitable: they will grow up, and have to stop, and be adults too. So, they go all-out and enjoy their youth for all it's worth. Kinda like how we all have to own up to mortality, and say "yes" to what we have in life today.






In high school, South Park was the cool kids' show. If you knew this, you were cool. Especially at the time when nobody really wanted to be profane and outright crass, and especially depict otherwise adorable-looking children as such. It was really funny then because it was irreverent and wild. Still makes me laugh to this day, but Lord knows I hardly see it around today.




Wait, scratch what I just said. The REAL Cool Kids of high school were into Beavis and Butt-head. Hell, the GRADE SCHOOL kids who got to see this (especially at a time when it was hard to get cable, and MTV Asia didn't carry this show yet) were the cool ones. Why? Know what, just YouTube a clip of them laughing. I don't care about what, just listen. Exposure to this show makes you have fun somehow! It's not drugs, but it comes close. Hell, MTV should just scrap Jersey Shore and do re-runs of this instead. It's more interesting anyway, the butt-monkeys. (And YES, they have new episodes of this. I am delighted.)




You can't talk about smart cartoons without talking about Daria. Starring a recurring character off of Beavis and Butt-head, the show depicts high school life quite well. By "well", I mean with more realism than most high school stories, especially at the time when "Dawson's Creek" was the biggest TV show (and a favorite also, but that's a different story). Biting, acerbic, subversive and witty as hell, this show was incredible. I'd look for the DVD set somewhere.



Oh my God, this show was made of GOLD. Rocko's Modern Life was the precursor to Spongebob Squarepants. Heck, much of Spongebob owes its life to Rocko, as the Rocko team worked on Spongebob later in life. The comedic style stuck too. But what made Rocko better for me was how they were more overt in showing themes NOT FOR KIDS, while still targeting kids! (The episode of Mrs. Bighead trying to seduce Rocko was a particular case that made its way to the newspapers here.) Of course the show pushed the limits, and I liked it that way. Nickelodeon stopped being as adventurous ever since, which is sad.




I think it was the hip-hop hook of the intro that got me. The Boondocks, based on Aaron McGruder's comic strip, strikes a chord for the cause of racial stereotypes. "A black South Park with a bigger brain," I like to think of it, but that's unfair. South Park was never this smart. This is satire at its finest, using racist comedy and crisp Japanese animation to execute a very, very funny show. The insights presented are also very sensitive and clever, but if you're ignorant you'll probably only notice the N-word jokes.




Samurai Jack, I loved too. It didn't have a lot of jokes. It didn't even seem to have a lot of cheer and brightness to its dystopic future setting. It did, however, show a lot about honor, righteousness, and personal strength. Okay, I made that up. It's art is BEAUTIFUL and I love it for it. The action is also rightly intense and at times downright violent. It would be the foundation of the Star Wars: Clone Wars animated shorts produced by Cartoon Network, which also turned into gold. While we always knew how these kinds of shows would end, it was also still awesome how they got told, and lovingly voiced.




Had to post The Rugrats, just to balance Cartoon Network's dominance. (Sorry Nick! Your cartoons aren't as cool.) But sensitivity aside? Rugrats wasn't always about a moral lesson or some big picture that only adults could see. This one I loved because it was 100% pure charm. It's cute, it's clever, and it's adorable. It also had characters you could relate to in surprising ways. Yes, they're babies, but it makes you wonder: if babies were like that, could we be so 'baby-like' ourselves? Rumor has it that even after the "All Grown Up" spinoff, they're making more episodes, and for that I'm happy.





I have gone full-circle maybe. Adventure Time is a kids' show that isn't ashamed of being for kids. It's about a boy and his magical dog in the Land of Ooo. It's also got possibly the BEST WRITING of any comedic cartoon today. It's like the wildest imagination of people is distilled into this show, and rendered in adorable, ridiculous, and incredibly random ways. I mean, where else can the sentence "Rescue Princess Bubblegum and Lady Rainicorn from the Ice King and his evil penguin Gunter with the help of Marceline the Vampire Queen" make sense if not with a child? I grew up loving the cartoons that didn't aim for kids; now I'm an adult and I love Adventure Time. (But YES, the show has jokes no child will understand! Mwahahahaha.)



The old quote was "Growing up is mandatory, growing old is optional," or some such thing. I mean, you can choose to be old. Or you can choose to stay young. Little did I know that choice was made for me, way, way before it presented itself. And yes, I am having more fun today than I did before.

Before I Forget - 11-11-11 Wishing

Wishes are curious things. Why do I say that? Well.

Once, I made a wish. I wished for love. I wished for a love so great and so powerful it’d shake me everyday. A love that would get me up at dawn, make me smile all day, and hold me close all the way through dusk to daybreak.

I never found the girl I’m destined to care for, look after, serve breakfast in bed and take out to magical evenings for the rest of my life. I never “Wow”-ed anybody into pulling me by the scarf and into a fantastic world all our own. I never had the chance to sweep somebody off their feet, in new ways every time.

I never got a somebody. I was too busy learning how to string words together so people could be whipped into emotions of joy, sorrow, excitement and the like. I was caught up clutching a camera, capturing the stuff in our crazy corner of the world.

I found no one because I couldn’t be found. I was in the far corner making friends with people you didn’t notice because they weren’t as cool as you. I was in a church in summer, in makeshift classrooms teaching kids who struggled through school. I was in the mountains discovering indigenous peoples’ culture. I was moving a ball at my feet to teammates for a goal. I was reading, listening to music, watching documentaries, dancing to a different beat.

I needed no one because I was surrounded by great friends. I cried over no one person in particular - I had enough people try to take me down to keep me always on my toes, always a few heart palpitations away from stopping cold.

In the end, my life led me someplace far away where I couldn’t be kept. Something else decided to keep me and make better use of me, in ways that stir my heart everyday.

I wish the same thing every New Year, every birthday, every week, every waking hour: I wish for love. A love that tells me my life can be better. The kind that rights the wrongs in your life, the kind that never makes you hope for less.The kind that sets you ablaze with hope. The kind that kick starts all over again, on days hope is stomped out and doused with cold water. The sort that keeps you up at night, and gets you up early at dawn, for the rest of your days.

Wishes are curious things. And this 11-11-11, on a day we’re all told me make a wish, I wish for nothing more, nothing less.

(And if I had another wish? Maybe somebody to share it with too. That would be perfect.)

current music: If You Ever Come Back - The Script

I wrote this for a friend and fellow Dayzer. It was her goodbye present on her way to Dubai. Never was good at Filipino, but if she wasn't going to hear it in a long while, I had to try, if just for her.


Pabaon Kay Denise

Patawad Denise, patawad. Kilala mo na ako't
hindi mo sana ako ipagkait ng iyong pasensiya,
lalo na't maaring hindi maayos ang daloy ng aking pagsulat
sa isang wikang maaring hindi na umaabot sa iyong mga tenga.

Ngunit isinusulat ko ito para sa iyo.
Dahil darating din, darating din,
darating din ang araw na ika'y iiyak.
Iiyak ka, at iiyak uulit dahil damang-dama mo
kung gaano kalawak at gaanong tindi ang nawala sa iyo
ngayong naglisan ka sa mga islang nagduyan sa iyo
bilang musmos sa sansinukob habang
nag-iikot ka sa ating asul na planeta.
Ngayon, nasa ibang lugar ka,
kung saan ang dagat ay gawa sa buhangin lamang,
at ang mga bagyo ay hindi mula
sa amihan o habagat kung hindi alikabok at alat.

Sa katahimikan ng disiyerto, maiisip mo
na sana marinig mo ulit ang tunong ng Tagalog,
at kahit ang pinakamasarap na pagkain doon -
Falafel, Hareis, Mehalabiya, Shawarma -
ay hindi pa rin tunay na kapalit
sa adobo, liempo, sinigang o tinola.
Mawawala ang mga gig ng Stonefree, at Parokya;
mag-iiba na din ang One More Chance
dahil nasa Dubai ka, at si John Lloyd naman, sa Maynila.

Sana sa mga sandaling ito,
kung minsan nananabik ka, at nababagot na
sa layo mo mula sa iyong iniwang mundo,
matanaw mo lang ang buhangin ng disiyerto.
Pagmasdan kung paano dinadampot ng hangin
ang mga butil ng buhangin, at dinadala kung saan-saan.

Ganoon din ang ating buhay - natatangay at nadadala
at susuot sa pinanggagalingan ng luha,
kung saan naipapamalas ang alaala.
Sa mga gabing iyon, maghanap ka ng salamin,
tumayo ka sa dilim at ilalim ng bituin.
Ipunin sa kamay ang buhangin na tulad ng nasa baybayin ng Pilipinas,
ituyo ang iyong mata at makikita mo
nariyan kami, nariyan,
nariyan lang sa iyong tabi,

sabay narito pa,
at naghihintay sa iyong matamis na pag-uwi.

current music: Heartbeat - Tahiti 80


In my life I have fulfilled the following personal dreams:

1.) Become a Jesuit Volunteer of the Philippines
2.) Taught high school English for a year
3.) Got a job in a really, REALLY cool non-profit!
4.) Finished Metal Gear Solid 4 and God of War 3. Video game story lines FTW!
5.) Watched Up Dharma Down live. (Yes, dream fulfilled!)
6.) Watched Radioactive Sago Project live. (Not a HUGE fan, but I love their music nonetheless).
7.) Get published on an anthology of poetry, even just once (and it felt real nice).
8.) Watched Tahiti 80 live! (now I don't have to go to France to hear them play!)
9.) Done something absolutely reckless for a girl I liked. (and it ended well, as far as the act went)
10.) Fought with my parents over a girl I loved. (and it didn't end well, as all fights with parents go)
11.) Acted in a theatre production
12.) Directed a theatre production (even if it was for a school project)
13.) Visited different places in the Philippines, such as Cagayan de Oro, Davao, Iloilo, Cebu, Bohol, Dapitan and more!
14.) Cooked food for "my family", for a long, long stretch of time!
15.) Gone white-water rafting in Cagayan de Oro! (And it was AWESOME)
16.) Fulfilled somebody else's "I wish I could before I die" wishes.
17.) Got a job writing for a living.
18.) Got a job involving the Internete.
19.) Applied the "useless" lessons I picked up in my education in order to impress girls.
20.) Learned to make a bonfire, for cooking.
21.) Help a friend in the midst of a massive emotional breakdown.
22.) Help somebody in the midst of a massive medical emergency. (and it happened to me twice)
23.) Attend a TED event (in my case, TEDxManila 1!)
24.) Learn basic photography from a friend who is really good at it.
25.) Watch a traditional Talaandig dance. (watched a lot of them, actually)
26.) Watch a movie alone, and be okay with it.
27.) Travel alone, and be okay with it.
28.) Line up at 12 midnight to be the very, very first in line for Ateneo-La Salle basketball tickets.
29.) Experience playing "Rock Band" with a group of friends together.
30.) Discard a bad relationship from my life permanently.
31.) Learned how to let go of somebody who doesn't or won't love you the same way.
32.) Score a goal in football. (futsal and field)
33.) Hit a 3 in basketball to win a (pick-up) game
34.) Learned how to use an Apple computer (and learn to embrace it wholeheartedly)
35.) Get away with being way wasted drunk, and way wasted high.
36.) Became friends with a real-life local celebrity.
37.) Survive a vehicular accident.
38.) Drive from Manila to Tarlac, back and forth, in one day.
39.) Take a motorcycle up a mountain.
40.) Break a foot and come back still being able to play football.
41.) Make somebody's dark day a little brighter.
42.) Watch young children play football in Iloilo. (they're incredible)
43.) Coach basketball to young students
44.) Become an "official photographer" for a village.
45.) Publish a school newspaper
46.) Meet Neil Gaiman.
47.) Get Neil Gaiman to autograph Alan Moore's "Watchmen". (o, saan ka pa?)
48.) Take a girl I liked to ice cream. (pity she already had a guy! tsk!)
49.) Order drive thru in a fast food joint with a date, except on foot.
50.) Dance with the most beautiful girl in my prom.


I'm sleepy, so I'll cut this short. And besides, how many people do you know have fulfilled 50 dreams in their life?

But know what? I realize that only so many of these involve owning a lot of money. They mostly involved a willingness to take a chance.

I hope I have it in me to continue on my next great dream. :)

I am home, it is quiet, and everything I read from my blogs feels like they're ages and ages ago. In truth, I've only last checked up on them about a month ago, and last updated them within the year. Still, it's reflective of who I am now, how much I've changed, and how different my outlook feels.

There's much I no longer recognize. I don't remember the vast emptiness that was when I was heartbroken. The love I had for her hasn't disappeared; merely put aside. The emotions I've had when I read poems, listen to music, or take in film all changed too. I don't have the same kind of urgency here, but at the same time, there's a greater sense of selfless purpose - like I don't want to strive for just myself anymore, but I dream of being a conduit of a greater good.

I don't know where I'm going. I only know I'm being guided like a blind man is led by his son or daughter, like a birthday celebrant is led to his surprise. I only step slowly forward, confident of the anticipated good, yet still nervous of a possible disappointment.

I only regret that while I would have loved to share this journey, I can only do it alone.

Saw this on a friend's LJ. Aliw.



I am the Life Surfer! Who are you?

The Life Surfer

You surf on life, enjoying the best bits. You're curious and like to meet new people, as well as learning about the human mind. You search for new experiences and adventures and love to share them with friends. You're creative and approach challenges in a broad way. Spontaneity and diversity guide your actions, which makes it difficult for you to focus and commit.

• 54%sociable, adventurous, outgoing, energetic
• 50%sympathetic, modest, compliant, forgiving
• 33%efficient, organized, thorough, self-disciplined
• 63%curious, unconventional, imaginative, artistic

current music: Makapiling Ka - Sponge Cola

It has just rained. It is 11 PM. You are probably on your way home, hungry and tired, and frankly, so am I.

It is nights like this when I miss you the most - when I could tell you'd text me or call, looking for company or food or any other kind of small comfort. It's times like these I know somehow you'd seek me out, and I'd feel how you treasured and valued me in ways nobody else does.

Right now I am still waiting for someone to seek me out. But nobody did it like you.

current music: Glee's "Borderline/Open Your Heart" mash-up!


I agree with Sarah Meier: Twitter is BAD for you if you're a writer.

Why? Read the above paragraph. There it is! To paraphrase her, my entire thought is right there, in a short, blue bird friendly line.

So basically, I don't have much to blog about anymore! I tweet way to much, and my life's day-by-day events are chronicled there.

Not everything make it: I am conscious enough to know what other people will read. My Twitter account is linked to my Facebook status, after all, so I try to watch what I have to say.

Incidentally, if you have Twitter, follow me at @heaven_spawn!


===================

Yesterday, (most of) my former UP Law classmates graduated from law. They will take the bar soon.

Yes, I am immensely proud. :)

[And for the nth time, no. I don't want to be a lawyer.]

===================

My current music is awesome.

Never heard? Listen up: here's YouTube.




===================

I am currently at odds with my family.

But I guess, it just means I really, REALLY need time away, and time alone. REAL time alone. I realize I used to have at least 2-4 hours of time alone everyday with my job, with my long commutes to Makati. Now I have to live with pesky family 24/7. I miss having time alone.

So. It is Sunday. Maybe I'll resolve to walk to UP Church instead of taking a jeep. This will buy myself some alone time and accomplish exercise in one swoop.

That is, if these post-drinking session dehydration cramps don't get the better of me. Owwww.

In the E-mail, I got a message that, in so many words, told me:


We are pleased to inform you that you are accepted as a Jesuit Volunteer for Batch 31, Program Year 2010– 2011.



:)

I miss her small, bony, and ever so fragile hands.

I miss her tinny, tiny, squeaky and adorable voice.

I miss her eyes, with a gaze piercing like knives and yet delicate like a caress.

I miss that bright body of hers, and how it shone in the sunset.

I miss her "negative" moods, which I'd tease, much to her anger.

I miss hearing her sing.

I miss making her laugh.

I miss how she laughed at my jokes.

I miss surprising her and making her squeal in delight as a result, every time.

I miss her beautiful family. Every one of them.

I miss her cool friends.

I miss cooking for her.

I miss how she'd sniff her hair.

I miss the smell of her hair.

I miss her hair, always pretty no matter what.

I miss driving her to and from work. I miss driving her home. I miss how she'd hold my hand while I was driving, out of the blue, ever so unexpectedly.

I miss how she asked if I already ate, or how my day went. I miss how she was actually one of only 4 people in my life who care about me to ask.

I miss how she broke rules for me. I miss breaking rules for her.

I miss how close we became, and yet, we never broke boundaries on principle. We never had sex, let alone kissed like lovers do. Not once. And I miss how close to breaking those walls we got sometimes, and how it excited me to see her next time.

I miss her surprise texts, Facebook chats, phone calls and all those just to get me to go with her somewhere out of the blue, no matter how difficult it could be for me. I miss how I'd hear from her 5 out of 7 days in a week.

I miss having somebody to travel with.

I miss having somebody to plan travel with.

I miss how she'd nit-pick every little thing about me.

I miss being motivated, driven, each time she'd comment negatively about me. I felt ever so strong each time, determined to prove her wrong.

I miss fighting with her. Because when we were friends again, it was like a newfound strength to the bond we shared was forged.

I miss hearing her laugh, even with jokes that weren't funny to me.

I miss how she encouraged me to save money. I miss her nagging me to save money.

I miss seeing her face on my Facebook Top Friends. Hell, I miss seeing her on Facebook, and I missed out on copies of pictures on the "dope times" we had. I look at where her face should be on my apps and see a hole, like the hole in my heart right now.

I miss talking to her about everything and nothing at once.

I miss not having to cry when I hear love songs.

I miss singing love songs with her.

I miss going to church with her.

I miss watching American Idol with her. I miss watching TV with her, period, and making popcorn to watch.

I miss how she gave me what I needed, never just what I wanted.

I miss how her perfume would flood my car. I miss how it turned me on for days.

I miss planning a future together, a future we were both skeptical would ever happen, but excited me to make real nevertheless.

I miss helping her out with her thesis.

I miss arguing with her.

I miss her yelling at me, and how I yell back.

I miss seeing how hot she becomes when she's angry.

I miss her warmth when it's cold.

I miss how her small arms had so much strength, that night she held me close.

I miss the beach because of her.

I miss partying with her.

I miss daydreaming about her.

I miss remembering the color yellow meaning more than just another shade, because it was her favorite.

I miss late night food binges in Mister Kebab, or at Bellisimo, or Greens or Taco Bell or KFC. I miss how coffee tasted because of her. I miss collecting stickers for Starbucks and stamps from Gloria Jean's for her.

I miss lining up at 2AM at Araneta Center, or rushing out of the office to get to Blue Eagle Gym, so we could watch UAAP together. I miss scoping out Araneta for tickets to the Cheerdance contest which I couldn't get. I miss buying tickets to BoyzIIMen, amid a throng of PBA fans. I miss knowing she'd love these shows and she did, and I loved them because I was with her.

I miss exercise and running with her.

I miss our walks.

I miss how she got along with my family pretty well. I miss that a lot.

I miss writing her letters.

I miss having her sleep over my place.

I miss serving her breakfast in bed.

I miss shopping for cheese with her, and experimenting with it in my kitchen.

I miss making her iPod play lists. I miss having someone I could talk to about music, and how I'd learn from her.

I miss planning things to do for her, like buying her earphones, or making her a scrapbook.

I miss listening to her rant about boys.

I miss (yes I do) , I miss being jealous about her and the boys who liked her and the boy she loved. I miss the arguments. I miss how tenderly I'd try to apologize, and how harsh she could be when not in the mood to be friends, because it'd make me have to be braver.

I miss how she'd never say no.

I miss how she picked up my lingo, like lines like "sounds like a plan" and "gudjab" and "Whatevs" and "Sooobrang galing". I miss how cute it was, all the time.

I miss helping her find a job, and driving her to interviews and waiting for her to finish.

I miss the bets and debts we never got to keep.

I miss how she made me feel this was inevitable. That we would not be able to avoid it, ever.

I miss preparing her dinner for the evenings she didn't get to eat, and driving them to her so she'd have something to munch on in my car.

I miss how we'd sit quietly and look at each others' eyes, wordlessly, both like and not like how lovers do. It's hard to understand unless you actually do.

I miss feeling her pat my back when I coughed.

I miss our sweldo-day adventures.

I miss holding her hand.

I miss long road trips with her.

I miss how warm she felt when she leaned on me, and how it always made me feel so much stronger than I did that day.

I miss knowing that all my dreams, she'd support me, and wouldn't keep me.

I miss hitching my future plans to hers, of her hopes to leave the country and make a life there. I miss the knowledge I had then, deep down, that it would be worth it.

I miss getting drunk with her.

I miss letting her tell me what to do (which I don't let just anyone do).

I miss how cute she'd be, resisting me from hugging her.

I miss dreaming about her. I miss how those dreams made me wake up every morning feeling refreshed and energized, and not broken and in tears.

I miss feeling like every day our hearts could turn.

I miss how my friends looked at us. Not just at me. Us.

I miss having friends tell me "She's awesome, Raph. I hope you two make this last."

I miss how every little thing seemed to go right when I was with her, and we were on "an adventure". That even the bad things became positives along the way, and how the good things became intensely wonderful, as if by some miracle.

I miss doing random errands for her that I can't remember anymore.

I miss volunteering for causes with her.

I miss the sound of her name.

I miss the softness of her lips on my cheeks when we say goodbye.

I miss praying with her.

I miss praying for her.

I miss telling her I love her.

I miss whispering "I love you" whenever she left, just softly so she wouldn't hear it out loud.

I miss having the right to love her.

I miss her.


And now, I am mute, alone, emptied of everything without her, except my regrets. I walk among the wounded and until things lift, I know no joy.

current music: When She Loved Me - The King's Singers


Nelli, Dearest of all my friends,

I wish I had more than a few hours to really say my goodbyes. Then again, the goodbyes should've happened a whole lot longer ago, when somewhere along the way, I learned you wouldn't ever be the one I would call mine.

Still, at every turn, at every little moment of quiet I remembered you. I recalled your small hands that felt like a keychain of keys that open me, no matter how mad or closed-hearted I was. I would wonder how you'd think or sort through problems if I found myself stuck. I'd see beautiful things in life and wonder how you'd react if I showed them to you.

I say these because these thoughts will have to stay for the time being. You love Mike, with a kind of passion and courage and loyalty that I was ready to give you. There's no way I could tell you to leave him, not for my benefit, but for yours, because I could never be dissuaded to stop looking out for you. (And you know this.)

You and I both have a shot at not just being happy, but at making other people's lives a whole lot brighter. I like to think that this is what Jess wants for you and I. Angels don't own, keep, desire anything after all. And as angels, we both know we must go.

In the course of a year, you've shown me much about what it means to love, to REALLY love. Yes, you say often how sorry you were for trouble. But I wasn't perfect either. I hurt you, made you cry, and kept you from being happy sometimes too. I treated you like I would a girlfriend and I'm sorry if you hated me for it.

And then there are days that are simply magical. Days I'll cherish forever. They light up my dreams like a Bolinao sunset, fill me with music the way that makes roaring basketball crowds sound like a whisper. They touch me more tenderly than the most heartfelt words, such that haven't been thought of yet. And it's all because you, the one I love most, was there with me.

It's almost a year since you crashed into my life. I still feel it like yesterday. It's almost 4 years since we first met. I still haven't forgotten how I went home smiling that night, wondering if I'll ever see you again.

And now, we go, we walk, we fly. I pray my time with you was able to give you something, anything, that leaves a mark in your life as you do in mine, everyday.

And someday, if ever you wonder where I am, or yearn for that love which I've never kept from you, pray. His is a greater love.

And if you ever find me again, the way you did that one magical summer of 2009, know that I'll still remember you, your laugh, your voice, your lovely, angelic eyes. You always were that first angel I prayed for. You'll always be.

Be safe. I love you.

Basta ikaw,
Raph

No, I'm okay, really.

I just miss her.



current music: X'mas Lights - Ang Bandang Shirley

I hate February. I hate hate hate it.

February was invented by the Romans. Its name comes from the festival they held on the 15th, called "Februa". It was meant to be a special time of purification and cleansing, where they burned things and prepared for a new year with the coming spring. At first, they didn't have a January or a February, because they didn't want to count winter. Later on, they decided to count the time to it, and the month was thus made.

It's not ALWAYS miserable - I won an award on a February once. But that's about it.

In my life the past decade, I notice that most of the tumult and disruptions I have lived through found roots on February. That, or the tough, chaotic times of my life happened around this time. My life is just weird around the time winter dies, and the warm air comes back to bother everyone in Manila. Maybe it's me getting grouchier with hotter weather, or if some forces are at work in my life, but somehow I am thrust into spots I don't like on this month.

And it's not always about being bitter on Valentine's Day either. I've gotten sick, and have had painful injuries on February. I've lost a job (resigned from work) on a February. I've flunked exams and gotten my schoolwork crash and burn in failures on February. I had to survive some of the toughest build-ups to a traditional March graduation on February months. I had to be a hero in group projects, be a quiet team player at work, be the villain to get things done when nobody wanted to on months people are too focused on other things. I've lost bets on Hollywood awards season on these months. I watch my beloved Arsenal FC get torched during these months, the months when the optimism that filled me in winter gives way to shocking reality of underachievement. I even parted ways with one of my favorite pets, Dimitri, the adorable Lhasa Apso-Shih Tzu halfbreed, entrusting him to someone else, but effectively giving him (and all my love) away.

I had to watch one of my dreams disappear into vapor on a February. I was once offered a shot at starting a batch for Days with the Lord, and I was asked to be its leader, the Rector. I said yes. And as the ball got rolling I watched people's support for it die, and I never got to be Rector again. It was a dashed dream that stings to this day.

I had to spend one Valentine's Day consoling a crying friend over a heartbreak (yep, it had to fall on my lap). I spent one one year with no plans, and me WISHING and PRAYING that I'd have WORK, just so I had something to do. But no - this is February, when (depending on your life) most people around you won't focus on work because they're sentimental, or they'll focus on it so much, you'll have nothing to preoccupy yourself with, or distract your mind.

Heck, I spent one Valentines Day in JAIL. It was a project I had to do with my law classmates. We had to shoot video and interview people, and BARELY make it back in time for class. We were tired, sleepy, and as soon as I got home I still had to edit the stock footage we took. That's what I did with the evening.

And yes, I've had my heart broken on February. Over and over and over again, I've lost count how many now. It's been broken by more than enough girls, some of whom have broken it multiple times, too. (And no, it's not their fault I get hurt - don't hate them please.) I've seen promise, hope, laughter and joy on the month of Valentine's Day, and every year the past 26 years of my life I've watched it crumble and ebb into the wind. All the effort, hope and care that I put into showing someone special how I feel goes to naught, as the girl finds someone new, or decides I'm not worth keeping, or both, and it just the way it is - I get miserable this time of the year.

What's worse? How about being miserable when everybody else is happy? I mean, right here at home, my parents celebrate their birthdays on the 3rd and the 10th of the month. It segues into Valentine's Day, when the people everywhere I see are loved, and I'm the ostrich with his head in the sand.

For me? This year, if the way the month started is any indication, is no different. I mean, I think it's safe to say I have reason to be unhappy for how my own life has transformed: single, working hard, and still finding myself hungry for more, and not being satisfied never mind others have it so much tougher. I have many friends who don't seek my company. I had to walk away from something special with someone I love so deeply and passionately, just so something better can bloom for them, even if deep down I know the situation really kinda bites for me.

It does not help that I am spending more days home alone, because my family hardly sleeps here at our home-base house anymore. It's as if my life is just... not all together now.

Yet just this afternoon I had conversations with two friends who said they were just so happy. And you could hear it: they were single, busy with life, not looking for a date on Valentine's Day, and just so fulfilled with their families and friends and existence.

It makes me confused and frustrated, being unable to say why I can't be as happy as they are.

It's not always about romantic love. That's not in my immediate control. What sucks is how underappreciated I feel now. If there's any one thing I miss about being someone's better-half-but-not-quite-yet, is how I was missed. How I was sought out. How someone, even just one person, wondered where I was, and made the effort to seek me out and choose to spend another day with me.

It's February and without anybody to share my days with, I feel so alone, useless, and unnecessary. It sucks, and to be honest, it's taking all that I can muster to stay strong all alone.

This will pass. Thankfully, the month also has the least number of days. I just hope something nice comes to my life soon. Or, if some miracle, someone crashes into my life soon. I still fantasize, after all, that I could spend the 14th with someone significant, an innate knowledge that all the frustrating months I've had being miserable on the second month of the year... well, I just want it to be worth it. That'd be enough.

But this year? Hmph.

current music: Come on Home - Everything but the Girl





Hey Nelli,

How are you? Thanks for the planner, by the way. I can't wait to start writing out my year's future plans. It's the GotHeart planner like I asked. I got what I wanted for my birthday, and it came from you, of all people. Thank you.

I turned 26. Christmas and my birthday came, saw, and came again, bringing much joy and laughter and good times shared by all.

My life is good: I am surrounded by good friends, a loving family who believe in me, and am doing a job that pays me well for what I do. I have plans laid out for my future. I am doing the steps to make them real, and while they demand much of my future and will take a lot out of me, I can't wait for them to happen. And if they fall through, I feel confident I can make something nice happen still.

But to be honest, Nelli? I'm still bummed, because I don't have what I want, more than anything in the world.

I want YOU, you who was the answer to the prayers I begged God to grant almost a whole year ago. You were (and still are) my life's shining star, and I'm glad we're friends. I'm glad you met your new angel, never mind that he can give you so much less than what I could (because he makes you smile, after all). It's all good we're making the most of the time we have left before I disappear for a year, and at least you're in good hands until then.

But to be honest?

I want you. I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine.

And I want, beg, hope, pray, wish for you to wait for the day I return. And maybe one day we could finish this story that we never quite started.

Because as much as it isn't in my character to say it, I feel it quite keenly: the altruistic, "For you, Lord" sacrifices I make mean nothing if nobody's there to make me happy like you have all this time.

I love you. And I want nothing more than for you to wait for me, and upon my return, hold me and tell me you love me, just as I whisper how I've set you apart, and how I can't wait to build this perfect life you confide in me so much about together.

It's you, Nelli, dearest of all I know. It's you. All that I want is you.

Remain in my love. Wait for me.

To Where We’re Most Needed
by Raph Doval-Santos

I’ll tell you a story. A long story, this is. Or a series of short stories, I think. This essay is in some parts, a very long story, and in some parts too a lot of explaining and side commenting on my part. It’s the best way I know I can get across what I want to share. I hope you, dear reader, are not put off by my informal approach.

So here goes.

There was a boy. He was well-to-do, had a fairly good life. He was well-educated. His family was not wealthy, but they had means to live comfortably, and could afford to send him and his siblings to good schools. He did his best to do well in school, although he was best described as “above average”. He liked time with his friends, reading books and was largely kept “safe” by his parents, who liked to adhere to the “don’t talk to strangers” school of raising their children.

His family was close. They kept him safe, and in effect, he hardly knew how to make good in the real world, or how to deal with people outside his family’s “social circle.” He felt that’s just how it was - his family raised him to speak in English to ensure a good education, but in effect it cut him off from everyone else in the Philippines.

One day, he met somebody. There was a girl who caught his eye. She was charming, and kept a vibrant aura around her. People were naturally drawn to her, not just because she was quite pretty, but also because she somehow carried herself with a certain air that made people love to be her friend, how she never seemed to be upset. That’s what happened - they grew close. He often wondered what kept her going, where she got that never-ending optimism.

The turning point was when she brought him to her home. There, he saw the truth: she lived with upwards of 12 siblings, and were living in a small hovel at the outskirts of the city. They hadn’t a lot to eat, and as the eldest, she was the one who had to balance being a student and working. They had nothing, and many of them would never get to finish college. Yet, they weren’t sad. They were fine, somehow, and seeing that broke the guy’s heart.

That boy is me. Of course, parts of it aren’t true, as every good story, my teachers said, are parts fact, fiction, and fantasy. That I was well-liked, that I fell in love with a very pretty poor girl or that I was taken to be introduced to her family, are parts of an active imagination.

What was very true however, was how I became exposed to a world much unlike mine - how there are people who live day to day on selling rags on the street, or how students couldn’t finish studying because their parents needed them to work.

I was a high school kid when I met Hans Fabros. He was quiet, and one of Barangay Pansol’s smarter students in Balara High. He didn’t associate with the other boys because they thought he was effeminate, but Hans was incredibly smart.

I met him when he was one of my students as I was a tutor in a remedial teaching program of the Sta. Maria Della Strada parish. That I started teaching because of a girl I met, that much is true, and I did want to impress her.

But what really left an impression was how much I loved working there. I loved teaching kids. I loved everything - lesson plans, grades, lectures, games for the students to better pick up and learn their lessons. It was gratifying, knowing that our students would make a marked improvement in their studies, just like Hans did, who would go on from Balara High to be a student in UP.

There was Patrick Cristobal, one of my smartest students. He was short, dark and had a smile that was a little crooked. When he joined the program I was part of, he was a boisterous young boy horsing around a lot. Then, he emerged from our program a high school graduate, the eldest boy in a pack of 5 who lived in the Kaingin depressed area. He would go on to take engineering in UST, and as of today, I believe he is preparing for the board exams.

I loved the feeling the most how these kids, when they were done with high school, would come back to be part of the program and be teachers themselves like us. They would handle classrooms, speak in good (if somewhat broken) English, and would give us a run for the money on some of the Math questions. It wasn’t the skill that was impressive, though, but how it was their desire to come back and give back through that program. Where us more well-off volunteers came in to make friends, meet boys or girls, and have something to do in summer that could impress our parents, for them it was just a simple matter of giving back. True, some of them had crushes in our teaching staff and wanted to be with them everyday, but the fact that they kept coming back was heartwarming.

I felt then that I belonged to a community. Even well after my time, I still feel a bond to that place, those people, and the people who came after us. I’d find this community spirit elsewhere - in Days with the Lord where I staff, in my time at my former job at the Ateneo Alumni Association, and I loved how my belonging meant something.

I carried this into college, where I first encountered JVP. I was a freshman, and because the parish program was such a force in my impressionable college freshman life, I was immediately drawn to JVP. It was as early as my Ateneo Orientation Seminar that I heard about JVP, and I thought to myself “Hey! That’s awesome. I’d love to, but might not me for me.”

What changed that were when I met some of my elders in college - the upperclassmen who were on their way out to the real world. One of them was my Ate figure in two of my organizations, and she told me that’s what she was doing. She was a senior, and I was quite surprised at her determination - blocking time off to work on her recommendation letters, taking education classes to be a better teacher, and in our org alone, she was giving extra attention to the students she taught.

She told me that she wanted to do this because she felt it was something she was compelled to, by virtue of everything she had seen and done. “Kailangan nila tayo, they need us,” she always told me, and for her and me, it was more than reason enough. She had already given much towards helping others, but she wanted to give more. Thus, she made it to JVP, leaving behind a lucrative salary in a banking career to take a year away and teach children in far-flung areas.

It seemed futile to many, especially when I would tell them about what they were doing excitedly. I’d share the things they were doing to make our country better. They’d motion to me at the street children, the slums, the stories in the media about murder and rape. But I’d remember the Martin Luther quote that said “Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree.” That saying gave me some hope, and it reminds me that we have to keep going, because somebody’s counting on us.

Being a volunteer, thus, became a big part of me. I would sign up for Ateneo’s Orientation Seminar (OrSem), staff for Days with the Lord, continue tutoring children in Della Strada Parish and in my org Kaingin. I’d help out with production work at the Heights literary folio, another organization of mine. I’d find ways to be involved, one way or another.

I guess the best way to describe how I was at this time was like being in love - it brings the very best out of you. I started to find myself to be a stronger and more dependable friend. I found myself making great personal risks and sacrifices for others, like giving up an entire summer to help a kid learn English, or driving for a whole day to keep the Days people fed. I’d find myself suddenly insightful, inspiring to others who needed me to help them from losing hope. I loved how I could be so thoughtful, like I’d surprise people with gifts or hugs, or other warm gestures and thoughts. I loved how I could be that much more sensitive to others, like I could pick up how they felt.

I came to understand some things. I saw that we are placed where we are needed most. We are put in situations because we’re right there where we’re needed. I started to feel that the more we could open our hearts to other people, the more capable we can love the ones we really love, like our families or significant others (and the reverse is true too - the more we are able to commit to one person, the stronger our ability to sacrifice for more people is higher also). I came to feel that being “Man for Others” of Ateneo, the “Basta Ikaw” of Days, they all meant less if I couldn’t live them out, and live them out I was doing.

What changed through college, however, was how my priorities changed. Somehow, I stopped being as active in my socially-aware activities. I started focusing on making my own life better, a “me-first” kind of life where I studied hard, partied hard, and looked out for Number One. I looked at trying to build a career. I thought I met the girl of my life, and started making my own plans for us. I started looking at learning what I wanted to learn, which was to write and write well.

It was around that time I started to see the things I didn’t like in myself. I started being argumentative, wanting to win every debate and be right all the time. I felt that I often had to keep proving myself as I frequently had to be bombarded with people questioning what I was doing. I kept feeling I wasn’t good enough for other people’s expectations. I started giving up on being something more than where I was, and even then I didn’t know.
To this day, these bad habits remain and I do struggle with them. I struggle at how I say things carelessly, hurting people when I don’t realize what I said was hurtful. I wish I knew when to just shut up and not try to win the argument. I wish at times that I had more “fight” in me, that I wouldn’t give up on the things I want so soon, especially after a series of obstacles and bad losses. I would have a hot temper. I learned to start hating myself.

In this, I often felt that I had to “make up for what I lacked. I started trying things, and fortunately they worked out here and there. I made it to UP Law. I met a wonderful girl who I thought I could settle down with someday. I started to plot a course where I could be wealthy and yet somehow help. I had put away my thoughts of the dreams I had early in college.

Did giving up on JVP change me? Honestly, maybe. I know today I’ve not had the same kind of verve, energy and passion for life like I used to. I find that waking up in the morning is harder, getting out of bed more painful, and being with friends a little more tedious.

And yet I knew I made a pragmatic, realistic choice. I’m the eldest in the family. I have to be that pillar in case my family needs me. I knew being a lawyer was the best thing a Creative Writing major could hope for, never mind I had no real passion for the Constitution, or for the rules of legal procedure.

But somehow? I think there was something in me that never really gave up on me going to JVP. Even as I started plotting a life for myself, it was as if life had kept on giving me opportunities to try it, just to try.

I was a law student and right away, I had two classmates who finished their JVP year, and wanted to study law to pursue greater good. I would later be expelled from law, enter a retreat to soothe my soul and I’d find that we were at the same venue and time as a JVP OrSem. I would find work in Ateneo, only to have the JVP office just a few flights of stairs away.

It was as though I learned that God was trying to lead me somewhere. It was as if I was being taken by my hand and run through the rain. In the span from the day I gave up on being a JVP, I found my life bounced around. I got into law school only to get kicked out. I fell in love twice, and both girls left me for other men. I found jobs that I managed to really enjoy, but only to have bosses say I was not as great as they thought I could be.

And then there’s JVP, that old dream I thought was long gone, a dream I was so scared to pursue, an anecdotal “what if” that I shared to friends to get their sympathy, an idea I thought I had hardened my heart to.

Well, that’s what I thought before today.

Today, I’m taking a risk. I’m leaving the life I’ve known forever so I could rediscover that person who I loved, the man who took time out to help his fellow Filipino. Right now, I think that all this has led me to the point I am in right now. I know with faith that my life has been about how God, somehow, led me here. I find that I am at the point where I can ignore that call in me no longer.

I do not know what to expect in my time ahead, should I be selected to be a volunteer. I only know that I will have a chance to pay forward the good life I’ve had somehow. I do hope that the person I am today will be radically changed too - hopefully a more compassionate, more giving, more selfless person returns to Manila, if not a more socially aware man who is sensitive to how there are areas in life that we affect, and we don’t always realize it.

I know that JVP is not the end-all and be-all of my life. I know that right now, with my job and with the options I have before me, I know that I can stay my course. It’s win-win. If I don’t make it, I still have my career, my life here, and the chance to continue to help my friends and family. I still have the chance to study, or the opportunity to serve in other ways.

I know that if I don’t leave, my plans are still the same - I still want to pursue higher education, and then work in a related field. I find a certain appeal now to studying journalism, because the country needs good people in there now.

If I do make it to JVP, then I already know how it works - I will leave my job, make the most of my time as a volunteer, and be part of a growing community. I still intend to study and work when I return. I know that it all will be for the best. It’s that hope that keeps me going.

It inspires me too to imagine coming back home a changed me. I think of the person I am today. I think of how successful I’ve been this far, but I’m nowhere near happy nor being fulfilled. I can think of ways I can adjust, but like how Einstein said we can’t use the same mindset hat made the problem to fix it, I think stepping back and be a JVP will help.

I know that I will have to leave people behind. I’ve already started planning my own way out. I’ve begun to slowly pull away from the people who leaned on me for years. I’ve stopped trying to find a girlfriend, and stopped trying to win back the hearts of people who used to like me, because I now that I just might get that call and leave them.

And yet it is wonderful to know how supportive I’ve seen people back me up. Old friends I tell them to are not surprised. Some even tell me that they knew I would take a shot at this, and wish for the best for me. Even my parents, who had many apprehensions at the start, are cheering me on and the feeling is very gratifying.

It’s scary, but I also know that it’ll be worth it, one way or another. It’s with faith that I can say that there’s really “something here” that compels me to take it with an open heart, and with arms open. That this could be a part of some bigger journey, and by being part of the JVP community, I feel that I could keep giving, keep loving, and keep contributing to a brighter future for all of us.

In the end, we are all placed where God knows we’re most needed. I hope also, that God finds ways to get us exactly what our hearts yearn for, and searching my soul I know: I do want this.

Hi Aime. How are you?

I meant to keep quiet about it, and I know what you might be thinking: it's not my business, I am biased, and I don't know the facts. The thing is, I've always believed that true friends stick by each other and interfere. I've kept quiet this long and I'm glad that things are sort of okay. Still, I need to get this out, because if I keep it to myself, I won't forgive myself.

(She never asked me to write this, if you must know. She's not the kind to do something like this. Like it or not, though, I am.)

I may not know Nelli for as long as you do, but I will say it: Nelli's not that kind of girl. In fact, you should know that she's not like that at all, to try and "pick up" with Gerry. If she were that sort, be aware that that I would never have associated myself with, (let alone stick by and sacrifice for) her at all. Aime, we wouldn't even be friends, you and me, had she not introduced us, and I take pride in being friends with good people like you, and yes, like her.

Nelli and I keep pretty close contact. If you must know, yes, she was at Cavite, but no, she didn't do that. In fact, I'd like to think I'd be one of the first to know if something like this happened. So imagine my shock and my confusion seeing Facebook posts and hearing rumors about somebody I care for very deeply and in such ugly circumstances.

You know both of them too well. I think it is because of that, I feel you ought to trust in their both better natures, most especially Gerry's. He is your fiance, and for every day I see you two together, I sense it in him - hindi niya itatataboy ang pagmamahal ni Aime just to be with some girl for one night. He may have done that before, but I sense different, because it's YOU. And I worry if you don't see that.

On my end, I love Nelli with all my heart, never mind if she'd rather be with someone else. A big part of this love is how I have faith in her. Yes, there are times when I am very uncomfortable with the situations she likes to get into. But every time, she comes away with dignity and grace. She's smart. She knows how to get around and gets it right. She isn't the type to mess other people's lives.

And she's your friend. She was able to convince me to drive several hundred kilometers for you, to see Gerry, the man you love. She did that for you, as I did that for you and her. She cares very much for your well-being and would never do this. (And if Gerry really insists it's her, then he'll have to prove it for real, more than just talk about it.)

I would sometimes talk to her in the past week and I'd see how hurt and how upset she had been, especially after people started talking after they saw that you had to say. She'd shut her self in and bury her time at work. She never said a mean word about you when we were together or to anyone, but I didn't need to guess. I knew that she's been deeply offended, especially with how she felt (and how I feel too) her reputation had been attacked. I don't want something like this happening to my sister, my mother, what more the woman I love deeply?

It's not right. And I'm asking you, in any capacity you can, to help make things okay again. The two of you deserve some measure of justice, and the way things have been just won't do.

I may be wrong. Tanggap ko yun. But I am writing to say that in the end, I do pray that somehow everything sorts out. You owe it to yourself, after all, for real, lasting peace of mind.

Raph out.


-R

Because sometimes?


Some people are just worth it.

Yeah. That's just me going all in.

Pray for me.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mzs64tUfaGY

The Chase - My Favorite Highway




Even though it’s hard to hear the truth
It’s every little thing that makes you move
And there is a reflection in the mirror
You don’t believe
And darling it’s so hard to understand
I wish that I could fix what you feel instead
Baby, why’d you do that, I can see through that
Give it a chance

And you can’t just disappear
I’m begging you come on out, come on out
Promise that the coast is clear

(chorus)
I don’t mind the chase
Baby, you’re lost out there in a different place
And I can’t get to you
I don’t mind the chase
Baby, you’re lost out there in a different place
And I can’t get to you
But I’ll do what I have to

Every little piece you pick apart
You’ve hidden in a corner of your heart
And there is a reflection in the mirror
That you don’t see
And darling, it’s an awful lot to give
A memory you chase but you can’t relive
Baby, it’s supposed to, baby you’re close to
Letting me in

And you can’t just disappear
I’m begging you come on out, come on out
Promise that the coast is clear

Chorus

Oh, you never could quiet honestly explain
How much he means to you
You’re doing everything they ask you to
There’s a part of you, you wish you knew
And every escape you thought you could make
No, you did not think it would show
Darling it was way too much
Way to slow

Chorus

I am balancing the troubled line between pride and self-value.

Yes, I say hurtful things. I am not proud of that. I am not proud of what happened about a week ago, and I am not happy with the silence that has fallen over us, as if we are waiting for another storm to arrive and flood us with tears and bitterness.

But I am not proud of how over and over people have mistaken my kindness for weakness. You know who they are, and you know who you are.

I may regret this later, but right now I need to say this: understand - I am very, very hurt. Hurt by the vast many things that you've not noticed, nor been willing to acknowledge all these months. I'm hurt and I'm tired.

I am tired of how I'm there for you when you need me, but when I need someone to listen to me, you brush it off with an "It'll be okay," or conveniently change the topic.

I am tired of being present for you, while I feel you go on ignore my counsel, my thoughts on things, or my warnings on what you should and shouldn't do. I am tired of talking only about things you want to talk about. I am tired of feeling how you only hear what you want to, or of how you cut off my stories because you can't stop talking about your day, or your office mates, or your desire for a new iPod, or for your longing to leave the country. All these I love knowing about you, but it pains me to know you don't care about my day, my week, my life.

I am tired of the small sacrifices I do for you as a friend. I am tired of buying you dinner and coffee, all of which I spend on my own account. I am tired of lining up for tickets to ball games for you, or looking for things you need. All of these are favors which by now have become very painfully clear to me you never have any intention of returning. I am hurt by how you returned the earphones I got you because I thought it was the thoughtful thing to do (I'm like that - ask everyone). Yes, it was the heat of the argument that set it off, but by my foot, I had to go hungry for two weeks to gift them to you, only for you to return them just like that.

I am tired of fighting with you, only to sleep it off and then be close all over again. But after a few days, the same problems, be they yours or mine, arise all over, and we quarrel over again. I know that constant quarreling doesn't mean everything's ruined - there really is a great level of respect and care that I feel every time. But there's also so much energy that gets spent when that energy could have been directed at making each other stronger, happier.

I am tired of how you reach out to hold my hand one day, and then recoil at my touch a few days later. I am tired of how you'd be so warm one day, and then later push me away, or deflect my compliments. I am tired of how you deny me chances to help you when it is painfully clear you need my help. Conversely, I do not like it when you suddenly go and need my help when I am not always in a position to give it, and when I don't do that well I only end up feeling guilty and bad. I am tired of how you demand of your friends, all friends, the kind of attention that most every other person will demand of a lover, when all the while I feel you don't know how to give that much yourself.

I am tired and bothered and annoyed of how quickly you get tired of people. I'm tired of how you use it as an excuse, a convenient alibi because the simple truth is if you cared badly enough about somebody you won't ever get tired of these people.

I am tired of you being so inconsiderate of my feelings for you. Yes, you may not like me, but damn hell, I don't deserve to have you rub it in, or to watch you overtly flirt with other boys over the phone while you're tipsy and then tell me I have no right to be hurt, while you know full well of how much I care for you.

I am tired of hearing how excited you are sometimes to see a new crush, only to spend the next few days after whining about how he's not right for you, when all along I knew he wasn't good enough, or honest with you, or he was just after your body. I'm a guy. I know how we play, and as your friend it is with loyalty that I strive to protect you.

I am tired of hearing from you how awful some guys in your life are, because that tells me you go around telling your friends and family how awful I am. Especially when I'm not around.

I am tired of hearing that you don't want a boyfriend, because it's obvious that you do. I am tired of hearing at no matter how great I am, I just won't do. Most especially because everyday you keep telling me how much you've been waiting for somebody, and how you keep telling me what you're looking for: nice teeth, good education, smart, never had a girlfriend, loves music, doesn't smoke, has a car, cares for others, thoughtful, fun to be with and to show off to friends... all these rounding out a portrait of who I am, who I've always been all these years. And then you go and say you lost hope of ever having me, that you're not ready, that you're in no place to keep anybody, what more me.

I am tired of being compared to your ex. Because I never, ever compared you to the people who have come and gone and hurt me. I am tired of having to prove to you I'm great, when everybody else already can see how happy we can be.

I am tired of how you make yourself such a big part of my life, when you have no intention of staying in my life. I say that because it's already been a week and you've made no effort to try and fix things. I say that because I'm tired of always being the one to break the silence when we argue. I say that because I feel it's high time I see how important I am to you, more than just you telling me now and then.

I am tired of hoping, praying, wishing on stars, lighting candles in Churches and knocking on wood. I am tired of being alone in my bed. I am tired of wishing I were dead. I am tired of hoping you'd come around and be a better friend than you have been to me lately, never mind be my lover.

Because being honest? I just need a great friend right now. And I feel that as hard as I've tried to be that great friend for you, without question, doubt or any underlying motive, I can't do this alone. I need you to be a great friend for me too - something which I feel you haven't been able to be anymore.

And if you can't be a truly great friend to me, what more my lover? And truly great friends don't demand unless it can better the other, do not insist nor interfere unless it makes the other braver, do not take unless they can also give, and do not harm if they cannot forgive after.

I am tired of knowing you don't know how to receive compliments, favors, kindness and concern, the things I do for my friends. What more the people who are my family, or those who I find I want to form my family with? What more the people I love?

I am tired of longing for you, only to have you near me again and then find myself upset at how you go back to your old habits.

I am tired.

But I am not tired of you.

And I'll be back for more if you'd come around.

I love you, and I have loved you since the day I met you, and yes, it's love because it's the choice I made then and a choice I keep everyday, like every other person I have ever loved and still do.

And I promised myself I'd do all I could to be a part of your life, somehow. I may love you without condition. I know that if you broke this silence, we'd be friends again, and I hope that this cycle will not continue with you going on making the most of being my friend.

Because I knew you before all this, before somewhere along the way of your over-thinking and doubting and fear, before you changed one morning in May and was never the same again.

I remember how wonderful, warm and watchful over me you were. I know how thoughtful you have always been - not dependent on a mood or the weather but how you are so considerate always.

I loved how you could be so upbeat, positive and happy, never mind you had so little to your name or how far off your dreams were. I miss how you used to be ready to go on any adventure, even if I was the one taking great risks for you. I miss how you'd be one of the few girls in the world to get me to leave my comfort zone because you loved to tiptoe around yours with me.

I long for the times when it was simple - we liked each other, and that it was enough for us to speed off into the unknown, afraid of the future ahead but confident that we don't have to do this alone.

And yes, there are days that suck. There are times that hurt and that wear us out, much like today and yesterday and all the fights and all the days that convince the both of us we deserve better.

But all of that that is nothing to me because for the first time in my life? I met somebody who is worth it, and who once truly believed I was worth it, too. With you, I met somebody who truly brings the best out of me everyday. That's even during the hard moments we're not happy, and as well as on the good days when I feel like a prince just because I had you near me, or just because you were there helping me find perfume or giving me pointers on my driving or managing my money, or simply just sitting over coffee or on soaking the sun on a beach and not saying a word.

I miss that you. I long for that you. And if you really believe that we only accept the love that we feel we deserve, then you know what I want.

I want you, the you that I fell in love with. And in my life, I want you to stay.

But if you really, really believe that I have no place in your life or your future, or anything else that will only be more of the way it's always been...please no.

No.

I'm so tired right now, it hurts to hear your name, even if I want to be there with you, hold you close and make sure you'll never walk alone again.

Yes, I love you so. But please. You are the one girl in the world who gives me rest, and yet I am so, so tired.

Yesterday, I was at a wedding of a family friend. Now, I was never really close to said friend, so I thought "What the hey. Let's get out and be nice." The result was me being part of a grand celebration of two Chinese families that, well, was just simply EPIC. Dancing, food, drink, brilliant AVP's and song numbers and heartfelt talks and so much more. And they even had RX 93.1's Chico and Delamar as the reception's hosts!

But I think the highlight of the wedding was the homily of Fr. Pete, the priest who celebrated their matrimony. He was already fun in that he would code-switch here and there from Filipino to English to Chinese, and he'd interview the bride and groom "The Buzz" style ("So ano na nararamdaman mo ngayon?") in between points.

He did, however, leave me with what I call "The Parable of the Lovers and the Chopsticks". Or what he simply called how a couple are "like a chopsticks". (Yes, he did say it that way.) Fitting, maybe how it was, it being a wedding of Chinese families! But it was insightful, such it's what I took away most from the wedding.

I'll just paraphrase below:

A couple in love are like chopsticks.

They come from the same piece, and are two equal parts, man and woman. They are equal.

You do not hold them too tight, nor too loosely. Just enough, so they both grow, and it's when they're at the right distance that they are best used.

Where one piece moves, the other stays still and steady. So too are chopsticks, when they work. You cannot pinch the food if both move, or if both don't move.

And more importantly, like chopsticks, one cannot be without the other. They must be held together.

And the hand that holds them both together, is none other than the Lord.