Monday, March 30, 2009

Time

Look at how time flies! It seems so fast!

Things have been slowly filling in their own places as time goes by...

But, even if time has actually taken me into this new place, I still realized that a change of place can't just easily change anyone. Nothing has changed in me.

I'm still the sentimental romantic. I'm still easily obsessed with just anything or anyone and then I still easily forget about the obsession. Once the obsession was satisfied, I eventually succumb back to where I used to stand.

There's only one thing that I could not let go so easily -- the idea of obsession.

Oh my! I just need more sleep, I guess.

Saturday, March 14, 2009

And so there are times like now

It's totally dark outside and I still haven't taken a bath. I've been the usual me in a lazy day. No one to talk with, alone in this tall house and nowhere to go.

I was supposed to watch Watchmen with friends, but I changed my mind. Oh my, my energy must have flown somewhere away from this body. Lethargic is my favorite word at this moment.

Still, Jack Johnson is playing right now, filling this lonesome atmosphere with his cool rhythms. I'm at least a bit fortunate to have something like this to keep my sanity.

In times like this, a lot of things visit my thoughts. For one, my grandmother just passed away earlier today. My mom just told me so. My dad said last night my lola could no longer talk and only the daily antibiotics and oxygen kept her heart beating.

She was 93 years old; had gone much through life. I guess, it's enough span to let go of such opportunity. I just hope she had taken much experiences from her chance. Her parting has been accepted and prepared for by her children. They had let her go not only because they were financially incapable to maintain her medications (well, they're not really medications but apparatuses to get a grip of the little life she had been left with), but also because of the fact that she did not want to go on living anymore.

From this point, I reaffirmed the fact that everything, even life itself, is revolving around choices. Even staying alive is a choice.

I hadn't known my lola Maxing much. She spent all her time in her small lot in the countryside of North Cotabato. I got to see her only every summer vacations, and sometimes Christmas. The only thing I remember about her is her stout appearance, despite her short height, her long hair, calloused hands and muscled arms. And, when she spoke, she could utter some lines in straight English.

I don't know what she had been in her youth and what her dreams were aside from seeing her children have their own families. She had not been a popular person, or somebody who is excellent in academic field. I bet she never became a career woman. I'm even quite sure that she never even dreamed to live outside her little barrio, despite the sounds of bombs and gunshots in her sleep, or missing cows and carabaos at night.

I guess, her only goal in life was simple, as simple as she was...

Dying in the age of 93 is quite a challenge. I haven't thought of staying in this planet for that long. Not because I'm a cynic like I don't see any hope in this cruel and chaotic world that I hurry to get out from here. Notwithstanding scientific studies of why humans in modern times have short life expectancies, I wanted to die young because I don't want to be the one left whom the new generations would blame for the worst conditions in this world. I also don't want to see them suffer more than these people I see now.

I don't want to stay here for as long as 93 years. But, I don't want to die yet. I still want to see flowers blooming under a bright sunny day. I still want to climb mountains and listen to crickets at night. I still want to jump off from a waterfall and swim through the sea with lots of corals like in Pantukan.

I still want to see my own eyes or nose or smile on a special little human being. I still want to see myself, my child and the man who has my heart in a picture framed to be hung on the wall.

I still want to find happiness somewhere while I still get the chance to stay here. I just have to learn to accept that this chance to live is not quite a picnic, and so there are times like now.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

I Wish I had a River

It's 11:48 PM, I still haven't washed up from a tiresome day of work. After watching "Road Home" with my room mate, I didn't do anything but listened to Sarah Mclachlan's songs. It's been more than a month since I really wrote something that speaks of my personal matters. It's been more than a month that I have forgotten my introspective character.

I think I have always been introspective. I just didn't have time to talk about it here. I don't know why I've become so impersonal with my self these past weeks. A lot of contradictions that bother my preoccupation lately. This must be because of my new disposition that until now I'm still struggling my way through adjustment, adjustment and adjustment...

I thought I pretty much knew why I'm here in this place where I don't have any kin. Friends and acquaintances are everywhere and I don't have any problem with them. But, I have nothing more than casual relationships. I'm not really sure if I really need someone to be intimate with, not necessarily physically, but emotionally and intellectually.

It's still different when you have someone whom you could talk about your thoughts -- simple or weird, your fears, dreams and joys. It's still different when you have someone who could listen when you talk, not just through chat nor text.

I'm really in a deep struggle right now, I admit it. It's next to the experience I had eight years ago when I tried another kind of life with the peasants in remote areas. That was the toughest one I got ever in my entire life. But, this time has a new blend of excitement and fear.

I guess this time should be easy for me because of my age. I know that I have aged enough to see the progress of my being, but the word "regression" sticks its head like a rabid dog at me. After eight years of living like ahead of my age, I find myself making up those ages I didn't live by accordingly (according to social norms).

By being alone, without my closest friends and without somebody special, I've been able to ask myself questions that I don't bother to entertain back home. Questions like: "What do I really want?" "What makes me happy?" "Have I been a good person?" "What is contentment for me or would I ever be contented?"

Brooding is such a bad word that won't help me in this situation. I hadn't done that though, just tonight. Just now over the music of Sarah Mclachlan...

Right now, I'd like to sing this song.

Hold on (Sarah Mclachlan)

Hold on to yourself
For this is gonna hurt like hell
Hold on
Hold on to yourself
You know that only time will tell
What is it in me that refuses to believe
This isn't easier than the real thing
My love
You know that you're my best friend
You know I'd do anything for you
My love
Let nothing come between us
My love for you is strong and true

Am I in heaven here or am i...
At the crossroads I am standing
So now you're sleeping peaceful
I lie awake and pray
That you'll be strong tomorrow and we'll
See another day and we will praise it
And love the light that brings a smile
Across your face

Oh God if you're out there won't you hear me
I know that we've never talked before
Oh God the man I love is leaving
Won't you take him when he comes to your door

Am I in heaven here or am I in hell
At the crossroads I am standing
So now you're sleeping peaceful
I lie awake and pray
That you'll be strong tomorrow and we'll
See another day and we will praise it
And love the light that brings a smile
Across your face...

Hold on
Hold on to yourself
For this is gonna hurt like hell


I just remember the statement: "You can't trust me if you don't trust yourself."

Despite all the loving that they gave me, I still drove them away. Why is it so? Why do I hurt those who love me? Why can't I love them the way they deserve? Sometimes, I feel like singing Joni Mitchell's "Cactus Tree"

Cactus Tree (Joni Mitchell)

Theres a man whos been out sailing
In a decade full of dreams
And he takes her to a schooner
And he treats her like a queen
Bearing beads from california
With their amber stones and green
He has called her from the harbor
He has kissed her with his freedom
He has heard her off to starboard
In the breaking and the breathing
Of the water weeds
While she was busy being free

Theres a man whos climbed a mountain
And hes calling out her name
And he hopes her heart can hear three thousand miles
He calls again
He can think her there beside him
He can miss her just the same
He has missed her in the forest
While he showed her all the flowers
And the branches sang the chorus
As he climbed the scaley towers
Of a forest tree
While she was somewhere being free

Theres a man whos sent a letter
And hes waiting for reply
He has asked her of her travels
Since the day they said goodbye
He writes wish you were beside me
We can make it if we try
He has seen her at the office
With her name on all his papers
Thru the sharing of the profits
He will find it hard to shake her
From his memory
And shes so busy being free

Theres a lady in the city
And she thinks she loves them all
Theres the one whos thinking of her
Theres the one who sometimes calls
Theres the one who writes her letters
With his facts and figures scrawl
She has brought them to her senses
They have laughed inside her laughter
Now she rallies her defenses
For she fears that one will ask her
For eternity
And shes so busy being free

Theres a man who sends her medals
He is bleeding from the war
Theres a jouster and a jester and a man who owns a store
Theres a drummer and a dreamer
And you know there may be more
She will love them when she sees them
They will lose her if they follow
And she only means to please them
And her heart is full and hollow
Like a cactus tree
While shes so busy being free


Here I go again with my old weak self... Impulsive, immature, romantic and indecisive. I don't want to blame all my experiences that made me be enmeshed in things, real things, tough things, which I guess have made my growth so unconventional. Maybe, my compunctions are brought by the contradiction between my unconventional thoughts and those dictated by social norms.




I will remember you
(Sarah Mclachlan)


I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories

Remember the good times that we had?
I let them slip away from us when things got bad
How clearly I first saw you smilin' in the sun
Wanna feel your warmth upon me, I wanna be the one

I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories

I'm so tired but I can't sleep
Standin' on the edge of something much too deep
It's funny how we feel so much but we cannot say a word
We are screaming inside, but we can't be heard

But I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories

I'm so afraid to love you, but more afraid to loose
Clinging to a past that doesn't let me choose
Once there was a darkness, deep and endless night
You gave me everything you had, oh you gave me light

And I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories

And I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories
Weep not for the memories



One song really strikes me hard at this moment. It's a song that Joni Mitchell (also my favorite) originally wrote.


River (lyrics)

It's coming on Christmas
They're cutting down trees
They're putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
But it don't snow here
It stays pretty green
I'm going to make a lot of money
Then I'm going to quit this crazy scene
I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I wish I had a river so long
I would teach my feet to fly
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I made my baby cry

He tried hard to help me
You know, he put me at ease
And he loved me so naughty
Made me weak in the knees
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I'm so hard to handle
I'm selfish and I'm sad
Now I've gone and lost the best baby
That I ever had
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I wish I had a river so long
I would teach my feet to fly
Oh I wish I had a river
I made my baby say goodbye

It's coming on Christmas
They're cutting down trees
They're putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace
I wish I had a river
I could skate away on


Instead of answering those questions I mentioned, I just keep on singing to myself "I wish I had a river so I could skate away on..."

I have just realized that this line actually shows my escapist character. Have I always been an escapist? Is my eagerness to live here is an eagerness to escape from where I came from? Is it an escape from regression? And, am I in progress right now? Or am I just regressing deeper?