After the Longest Time

... I dream. I am in my high school, running towards the gymnasium. I am late for the Morning Assembly. I know because it is quiet -- the way it is unusually quiet for a school full of boys to be before classes. I am running fast, passing the basketball courts, Savio Park, and Our Lady's Chapel. I get to the football field and it seems the sea of green stretched out into eternity. I run even faster. I could hear the wind howling in my ears. A blink, and, just like that, I fly.

Ignore Me When I'm Being Neurotic

"How fine you look when dressed in rage. Your enemies are lucky your condition is not permanent. You're lucky, too. Red eyes suit so few." (Cheshire Cat, American McGee's Alice)

I might be harboring a universe of mangled, unstable nerves inside of me, ready to supernova at the slightest provocation, but I will not become someone I hate. Wrath is a deadly sin, and of the seven, its sweetness lingers on my tongue. Pacify me when you see telltale signs of rage clouding my person. Remind me that I am not alone in this fight. Ignore me when I'm being neurotic.

That, or you can give me a hug.

Rediscovering My Inner Geek

Things have been quiet in the Alejandro front for the past couple of weeks. Work's been dulling my senses, so that might explain the lack of grey matter activity in my journal. Just a few minor updates to fill in the gaps:

First, Amanda, my PC, has gotten an upgrade last week so she's working faster than she's ever had before. I can surf, chat, run a Word document, do application somersaults, and play Marvel Ultimate Alliance all at the same time without worrying if she's going to die on me any second. I also gave her more hard drive space, so yay! I get to keep my porn -- I mean, movies!

Second, I jumped into the Music Edition bandwagon and purchased a Nokia N73 ME phone yesterday. I stuffed it with songs as soon as I got home, and the sound quality doesn't disappoint at all. Plus, with 2 Gigs of memory, I can cram as much albums as I want in it. Life just isn't the same without a soundtrack.

And last but most definitely not least, I was able to watch Makoto Shinkai's 5 Centimeters Per Second the other day. Subtitled 'A Chain of Stories About Their Distance,' the film is divided in three parts, focusing on Tohno Takaki's life from the time he was 13, then 16, then 25. The title refers to the speed at which cherry blossoms fall, alluding to the way human relationships struggle against time, distance, and love. The film is quite short, totaling to just about an hour of playback, but everything about it -- the art, the words, the music -- will leave you breathless. An article I read online describes it as "akin to a Haruki Murakami novel brought to life," and I must admit, the feelings of love, loss, and distance which the film evoked had a similar resonance when reading a Murakami novel. Everything is poetry.


"And in that moment, the dwelling place of eternity, hearts, and souls became clear to me. It was as if I understood everything that had happened in my life these past thirteen years, and the time which was to come. I became unbearably... sad. Akari's warmth, her spirit -- how should I treat them, where can I bring them? That was something I didn't know. That we would not be together forever after this was a fact I clearly grasped. The vast lives we had ahead of us, the boundless amount of time which laid unavoidably stretched out in front of us. But... the anxieties which I had caught sight of soon melted away. And after that, only Akari's tender lips remained."

Know What I Really Think?

Human beings are a terrible mess. And of the whole lot, I think that our generation -- all the way down the line -- is the point where the brunt of all of humanity's historical, technicolored fuck-ups have started to germinate. And I'm writing this all down because I am angry. YES, I am angry.

Angry because we have learned nothing from what our elders have gone through but arrogance. Enough arrogance to use words too big for our own egos to lug around, it's a wonder we can't stand on our own goddamned feet without keeling over all the goddamned time. Using words like not, or never, or can not, or will never. Enough arrogance to claim absolute meaning to abstract truths, such as I will never be happy, or I will always be alone, or I am never understood.

Maybe we've become too detached with what humanity has gone through and we have forgotten what is really important, or maybe we have become too self-absorbed, self-involved, or just plain selfish -- it's not really something I can fault people at, considering the different things one might have gone through -- I can't really say. But to claim to know oneself, to claim to acknowledge one's faults, but do nothing to change, and then say that one will never be happy and people will never understand? SUCH ARROGANCE!

I know hatred. I have gripped its cold, hard hand numerous times. But I also know patience and compassion, and the many wonderful things that they bring to people's hearts. I am, however, still very human -- whose heart can only withstand pain caused by arrogance and thoughtlessness so many times. I will keep silent and pray that one grows and learns soon enough, before more precious things are lost.

War Against Microscopic Scum

Homeward-bound yesterday, as I was wearily trudging through the flood-filled streets of the other side of Makati, I tripped and fell on all fours, completely drenching my forearms and legs with filthy floodwater. It took a moment before I actually realized what had happened. Jewel was still wailing in my MP3 player, giving off the illusion that nothing bad had occurred, and the cars which were still moving in the streets, making waves that sloshed against my kneeling form were simply background objects intended to be ignored.

It took the blue blur of my umbrella rolling madly away from me to hotwire me back to my senses. And despite the stinging on my palms and the strain in my arms, I was still able to grab my umbrella by its tail-end on time before the strong winds could blow it any further. I grunted a quick 'thank you' to the powers that be watching over me that afternoon before getting myself back upright, not caring whether people saw the complete and utter mess that was me or not. There was a dull thud in the instep of my left foot, but I focused on getting home right away.

As soon as I was inside the house, I went into the bathroom straight off to wash up. That was when I discovered the sensation on my foot was actually caused by a couple of scrapes which just started bleeding right there. I think the initial surprise at the sight of blood was the reason why I did not panic at all. Instead, I washed and soaped it thoroughly, after which, I got myself into my room, moistened a soft, clean cloth with alcohol, and dabbed my wound with it through gritted teeth. Yes, it hurt like heck, but I was hell-bent on cleaning it after wading through all that liquefied trash heap. I do not intend to die within two weeks just because a silly little bacteria managed to worm itself into my body through a tiny, insignificant gash in my foot. So take that, microscopic scum, and drown in 70% solution isopropyl alcohol.


In other news, something to look forward to!

A Snow Leopard! I've always felt drawn to them, animals of snow and hidden, cold places. Much thanks to R for the link!

Baywalk Weekend

Walked from our house to Jasper's place in Boni, Mandaluyong, Sunday night to sleep over his place. He was planning on going to Baywalk early the following morning to take photos of the place, and he needed the awesome power that is my presence to hold on to his tripod and other photography-related paraphernalia. For a complete photo-parade of the whole affair, click on the pikachure below! :-)





Sunday evening, just arrived at Jasper's. He was cooking pasta with tuna and olives and other sweet-smelling, magical things.



Said pasta, about to be consumed while watching the first episode of Project Jay.



1:00 AM, was bored, couldn't sleep, playing with Jas' camera.



Still bored, still playing.



Jas, working hard for the money.



My mug of black coffee, and Jas' workstation.



This was a neat idea I got from Jas. Amazing how construction paper can dramatically change the lighting in a room.



The door to Jas' room. I swear I could hear Jas' bed calling me, sleeeeeeeeep... sleeeeeeeeep...



Me, at Harbor Square, laughing at something silly. Probably myself, being photographed. Other photos from this set may be found at Jasper's Flickr site!

The Weight of Clarity

Indecision has been a recurrent theme in my life as of late. In the past, I have met each crossroad with nary a thought nor a trace of rationality. Follow your heart, the cliché goes -- and I did, with reckless abandon, and free from regrets.

Which is why I'm finding it strange a good part of one week was taken up before I was finally able to come to a decision regarding a crossroad I was presented with once again. And even then it wasn't a decision I was absolutely sure I was completely at peace with. The weight of clarity has never been as heavy as it is now, and the voices coming at me from all sides are keeping me from making my way through the mist of doubt without causing some kind of hurt, however little and in whatever form, albeit unintentional.

Regardless, the choice has been made and this is not a time for regrets. I have proved time and again that happiness has ever been a choice -- which is why I choose to be happy where I am at now. And with the people surrounding me, it's not at all difficult to be happy.

Saturday Night At Metrowalk

Was out last night with Mommy Dea, Mitch, and Boss Lai for a night of coffee, music, vodka, and zombie at Aruba in Metrowalk. Two bands performed, both with guys in different gradations of hotness in lead vocals.

The first band had a repertoire of mostly ballads and love songs. I requested they do a cover of Right Next to Me by Whistle, but to my dismay they never did get to sing it. Mommy Dea was in a perpetual state of disappointment song after song, and she kept on "accidentally" dropping forks and spoons on the floor to illustrate her dissatisfaction with the vocals. Add to that, the guy had a strange way of moving his body while singing; each second we were almost always sure he was going to throw his clothes off and dirty dance right then and there, while singing Careless Whisper. The girls were sniggering endlessly, and I couldn't stop from biting my knuckles just to keep myself from running to the stage and ripping his clothes off myself.

The second group, on the other hand, performed worlds better. We all enjoyed their rendition of Maroon 5's Makes Me Wonder, A-Ha's Take on Me, and Culture Club's Karma Chameleon. Eric Clapton's Change the World usually doesn't make my booty shake, but their version was so good, especially towards the last part when the lead guy was improvising like crazy and hit a high note with a smooth flourish. But out of all the songs they performed, 99 Red Balloons takes the cake. I loved it a lot! The lead guy looked intense in his orange shirt and shades thrashing around the stage, and the drummer was über sexy beating on the skins.

By the time the first group started their second set however, we all decided to call it a night. Boss Lai drove off back to Eastwood, Mommy Dea and Mitch hailed a cab to Pasig, and I walked towards EDSA to wait for a bus to Makati. The midnight air was cool and damp on my cheek as I was skip-hopping through the quiet streets of Ortigas Center. Another weekend is starting, and a little ball of happiness is swelling in my throat. I let out a chuckle and bit my lip, as I began to hum the first few bars of 99 Red Balloons...

Belonging to 1% of the Entire Population

Nicked from Froggy. Text below taken from my profile page. Discovering I'm part of just 1% of all the people in the world is quite lonely. Charing. Hehehehe. Good thing we have fellow INFJers Nicole Kidman, Oprah Winfrey, and Piers Anthony in our team. :-)


"INFJs, making up an estimated 1% of all people, are the most rare type (males even more so). They are introspective, caring, sensitive, gentle and complex people that strive for peace and derive satisfaction from helping others. INFJs are highly intuitive, empathetic and dedicated listeners. These traits tend to act as a 'tell me what's wrong' sign on their forehead, hence the nicknames Confidant, Counselor or Empath. INFJs are intensely private and deeply committed to their beliefs."

I Was Dumped!

... for a guy who has a car and a smooth, tight, hard body! The brilliance that is me was thrown aside for fluff! I'll never live it down.

Actually, this happened several days ago but it's only begun to sink in now. Yeah. After over a month of dating, Doc Eddie finally said he's seeing someone else. My initial reaction was, "OK, sure, whatever. We're just dating and having fun anyway. Thanks for the orgasm." And then I went on with my life. But right now, being idle for the first time in days, it's really beginning to sink in. I was dumped.

It shouldn't be surprising at all, considering my track record for getting rejected is quite phenomenal. By all rights, I should already be a ninja master of the stuff. Separating the physical motions from the emotional anguish such acts may cause is an art which no longer requires an extremely high amount of mental fortitude from me.

But... it does. And everytime it happens, the pain is brand spankin' new.