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Nais kong marinig ang mga ibinubulong mo sa ulap,
Ang mga buntong hiningang pagbuga ng usok
Mula sa sigarilyong natutunang sindihan
Sa kanyang paglisan.
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Ang ganda ng Respeto.
Para bang kinukuha mula sa kailalim-laliman ng isipan mo ang mga bagay na nangyayari sa bansang pilit mong inilalayo sa sarili tapos ilalatag ng pelikula sa harap mo ang lahat ng ito.
Para bang “tingnan mo, ito yun, alam mo na ito, alamin mo pa lalo”.
Mag-balagtasan na lang tayo. Ibalik ang sukat at tugma 2017.
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Kailangan lang talagang ipaalala sa sarili na ang pagpapatawad ay hindi pabuyang ibinibitin sa ibabaw ng ulo.
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Loose Ends
My mother always told me
“Sorry” never fixes things
It’s a five-letter word just like her name
A word that if not spoken with utmost intention
Will never ever penetrate the fault in the game
And just like my name it would be forgotten
Between the pages of an untitled piece of literature,
An unfinished poem written at the back of a hand,
A very expensive text message sent at three am,
Or between the moving lips of the man I love
Enunciating these five letters only to be
Lost in oblivion, spoken in vain
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signs that I have commitment issues
literally disappears the moment classes end thereby avoiding any additional contact with my classmates (coz i just don’t want to be part of their toxic conversations)
takes me days to finish a 2-hour movie
16 unfinished blog posts on my Drafts
dozens of notebooks as “journals” or “planners”
refuses to really tell people, even friends, what I’m up to (not because I do anything suspicious or even interesting… but because I just don’t want to)
the very idea of having someone have “the right” to know what I’m doing (even my parents) at any given moment of the day appalls and repulses me
like seriously, I may do the most boring of boring things all day but if some person were to ask me what I’m doing (with the expressed notion that they should know what I’m doing) just freaks me out
so aggressively secretive for no reason
my eyebrows (which I had kept untouched until I decided to let it be shaped few months ago… a decision I regret to this day)
literally took me months to finally agree to use the word “best friend” to my closest college friend (just for the sake of formality)
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i think i found the umbrella term that describes my “religion/ beliefs in life”, deism.
Deism is a form of Monotheism in which it is believed that one God exists, but that this God does not intervene in the world, or interfere with human life and the laws of the universe. It posits a non-interventionist creator who permits the universe to run itself according to natural laws.
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a reminder of what you are capable of:
when you were at your brightest
you planted seeds deep inside my heart
and now, even in your darkest hour
these flowers continue to grow
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a day in the life of an INFP
basics
what’s your name ➔ Patricia Angela
do you have a nickname ➔ Pat
do you have a middle name ➔ Bugagao
do you like your name ➔ I hate my full name and try to use my nickname as much as possible.
do people often mispronounce your name ➔ Dude, it was so easy to pronounce.
do you like the meaning of your name ➔ My name means noble. I don’t think it suits me so no.
when is your birthday ➔ April 9
how old are you ➔ 18
do you like your age ➔ Still trying to come to terms with the fact that I can legally be on jail.
what’s your zodiac sign ➔ Aries
appearance
what’s your hair colour ➔ Black
is your current hair colour your natural hair colour ➔ Yes.
do you dye your hair ➔ Nope
do you have natural highlights ➔ Nope
when was the last time you had a haircut ➔ Three months ago
what length is your hair right now ➔ Shoulder length.
do you have straight, wavy or curly hair ➔ A wavy one but my hair has been rebonded so it’s straight now
do you have frizzy hair ➔ Sometimes
do you use a curling iron ➔ Yes
do you use a hair straightener ➔ Yes
do you braid your hair ➔ Sometimes
what’s your eye colour ➔ Very dark brown. Haha okay it’s black.
do your eyes change colour ➔ It gets lighter in the sunlight?
do you wear contacts ➔ Nope
do you wear glasses ➔ Yes
do you have naturally long eyelashes ➔ Nope
do you wear braces ➔ No
do you have dimples ➔ No
do you have moles ➔ I think I have but I don’t know where it is.
do you have outstanding cheekbones ➔ No
do you have freckles ➔ No
do you have piercings ➔ On my ears
do you have tattoos ➔ Not yet!
do you wear make up ➔ Sometimes
do you paint your nails ➔ Rarely
do you wear jewelry ➔ Sometimes
are you happy with your height ➔ I wish I was taller.
personality
would you consider yourself outgoing or shy ➔ More shy I think.
are you sarcastic ➔ Sometimes!
what’s your biggest fear ➔ Uhhhhh I have a lot
what’s your guilty pleasure ➔ …Sometimes books? Sometimes I am not sorry.
are you religious ➔ No
do you get easily along with people ➔ I’m easy to approach but I find it hard to approach others.
do you cry easily ➔ Yes
school
do you go to middle school ➔ I did
do you go to high school ➔ Did
do you go to a private school ➔ Did
are you home schooled ➔ No
have you graduated from school ➔ Not yet!
what grade are you in ➔ College sophomore
have you skipped a grade ➔ Nope
have you been held back a grade ➔ No
have you ever failed a class? ➔ Yes! (But in college)
have you been sent to the principal’s office ➔ No
have you skipped school ➔ Nope
have you cheated on a test ➔ Nope. My conscience would kill me.
family
do you live with your biological parents ➔ Yes
do you get along with your parents ➔ Yes
do you tell your parents everything ➔ No
do you have strict parents ➔ Yes
do you have siblings ➔ Yes
are you the oldest ➔ Nope
are you in the middle ➔ Yes
are you the youngest ➔ No
are all of your grandparents still alive ➔ My grandmothers of both are still alive.
friendships
do you have a best friend ➔ Yes
do you have more than 10 friends ➔ I think?
do you have at least 2 friends you can trust with your life ➔ Only 1
do you have a lot of guy friends, a lot of girl friends or equal girl and guy friends ➔ A lot of guy friends recently.
do you text with your friends a lot ➔ No
relationships
what’s your relationship status ➔ Single
have you ever been in love ➔ Yes
do you believe in love at first sight ➔ No
have you ever been in a relationship ➔ Yes
have you ever had a secret admirer ➔He was not so secret
have you ever been asked out on a date ➔ Yes
have you ever been kissed ➔ Yes
have you ever been cheated on ➔ No
have you ever been proposed to ➔ No
do you want to get married ➔ MAYBE
do you want kids ➔ MAYBE
country
where were you born ➔ The Philippines
where do you live right now ➔ Still here!
have you ever been out of the country ➔ A lot of times. Singapore, China (Hong Kong, Macau)
do you prefer country or city ➔ City, but sometimes I really need to be away from it
do you like sightseeing ➔ Yes
is one or more of your parents from another country ➔ Nope
what places would you like to visit ➔ Every one, most especially Prague
are you fluent in more than one language ➔ Yes
what languages can you speak ➔ English and Filipino
health
do you have any allergies ➔ some meds
are you lactose intolerant ➔ Nope
have you had surgery ➔ Yes
have you had stitches ➔ Yes
have you broken a bone ➔Yes
has someone close to you died of a disease ➔ Yes
do you exercise a lot ➔ Sadly, no.
experiences
have you ever had a near death experience ➔ Nope
have you ever been on a plane ➔ Yes
have you ever had an allnighter ➔ So many
have you ever been to school/work after a sleepless night ➔ Yes
have you ever been in a physical fight ➔ No
have you ever been to a wedding ➔ Yes
have you ever been to a funeral ➔ Yes
have you ever lived in a different country ➔ Nope, just a tourist vacation.
have you ever been drunk ➔ Yes
have you ever been trick or treating ➔ Nope
have you ever been in a school play ➔ Nope
have you ever been to a camp ➔ Yes
have you ever driven a car ➔ Yes
skills
how many languages are you fluent in ➔ Two
have you ever read a book in another language ➔ No
can you roll your tongue ➔ No
can you braid hair ➔ Yes
can you do a handstand ➔ No
habits
do you crack your knuckles ➔ No
do you bite your nails ➔ Yes
do you bite your lips ➔ No
favourites
what’s your favourite movie ➔ Dead Poets Society
what’s your favourite tv show ➔ Friends
what’s your favourite book ➔ The Little Prince
what’s your favourite song ➔ A lot?
what’s your favourite colour ➔ Red
what’s your favourite animal ➔ Dogs
what’s your favourite season ➔ Summer
this or that
summer or winter ➔ Summer
day or night ➔ Night
cats or dogs ➔ Dogs
rain or shine ➔ Shine
coffee or tea ➔ Tea
reading or writing ➔ Writing
humorous or serious ➔ Humorous
brown or blue eyes ➔ Brown
single or group dates ➔ Single
texts or calls ➔ Calls
driving or walking ➔ Walking
last
last phone call ➔ Mom
last text ➔ Mom
last song you listened to ➔ Lifted Up by Passion Pit
last thing you ate ➔ KitKat
last thing you drank ➔ Water
last purchase ➔ Crispy chicken fillet with rice, medium fries, regular Coke. Thanks Mcdo.
last time you cleaned your room ➔ A week ago
last time you’ve been on a date ➔ Some time last year
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well hello there, ash wednesday
the sheer amount of crosses i'll see today will reduce me to ash.
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ways to become:
1. be okay with the rolls
on your stomach,
the scars on your thighs,
and the shape of your spine.
wear a miniskirt,
smile at your reflection,
hope you still feel the same
tomorrow.
2. fall in love with a guy who smokes
and then watch him fade away
like the gray from his lips
cry when he breaks your heart,
taste him on your tongue
years after he’s gone away.
3. discover how much
you love to sing.
sing “blackbird” by the beatles
again and again and again.
scratch your throat sore.
4. realize that you can’t write for shit,
wonder how you’re going to make money,
feel small when you learn that the sun
will one day swallow the earth.
5. reach for his hand and
don’t flinch away
when your knees touch.
kiss him hard on the mouth
and whisper
‘I love you’
when you both run out of breath.
do not think of whether or not
he’ll say it back
6. grow older a day at a time
and hear in biology class
that millions of cells
live and die within you everyday.
feel parts of you wither and
feel parts of you breathe,
assert that you are changing.
be okay.
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Mediocre
1) don’t take my silence
for lack of empathy.
i want you to shed your skin
like it’s your warmest coat in
the middle of summer.
leave it in your bedroom closet.
i want you to come outside with me
but I was never good at this kind of thing.
2) don’t take my silence
for scorn or anger.
i want you to worship your body
and the ghost it houses.
plant flowers in all
the cracks on your skin
and maybe the next time it rains
they’ll begin to grow.
3) don’t take my silence
for lack of faith in you
i want you to believe in yourself
like your own damn religion
take your explosive heart
and throw it at the bastards
who don’t know how to respect.
your body is your temple:
nobody can destroy it.
4) don’t take my silence
for hatred or indifference.
i am quiet because my voice
can’t shout over the pumping of my heart
and all i’ve ever had for you
was my poetry
but I was never good at this kind of thing.
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Detachment
Several days ago, a recitation instructor at a GE subject asked me what love was
And to think I should’ve known how to answer that question
Like knowing the back of my hand but no,
I sat there dumbfounded
Mouth half open, stuttering, with a partially bleeding lip
I sat there like a war veteran suffering from PTSD
Or like a prostitute hearing she’s got every single STD in the biology book
At a loss for words, he just says “oh come on”
Like anyone else, in the usual Filipino expression, in my head, I just said “putangina”
Because for the longest time it’d be your name
That I’d constantly think of as the answer to that question
But on that certain day, it wasn’t
I’d like to blame it on the inevitable fickleness of reality
Or some divine cosmic voodoo alignment of sorts
Because this whole thing is new to me
As if now I’m left operating purely on the basis of muscle memory
I have to ask myself if love is just some filmstrip that fades over time
And if so, can I ever retrieve back the frames I’ve lost from way back when
Thing is, I feel like for the past how many times I’ve lost
I’ve given myself too many excuses in order to sustain this process of seeking happiness
From the external security of people, places, or objects hidden in boxes
Similar to how the dependent variable rotates on the axis of the constant
Maybe it’s because I’m holding on to whatever strings I have left in my life
Or maybe it’s just reflex ideology
But for whatever reason it may be,
I know that whatever I’m doing can no longer sustain me
One of my closest guy friends always used to tell me to never act on the basis of feeling
For the longest time I was always afraid to feel something, anything, and I still am
My friends would often find me somewhat odd
For shit like staring into space too often
Or talking too much about the postulates of reality
Because I always wanted to be in that blank canvas
That clean sheet of paper, that empty cup of coffee
The proverbial blank state, as they’d say
But right now I feel like there’s this force within me, a feeling, an inevitable need
To detach myself from the fabric of time
To finally find myself in the spaces in-between
Not in the warmth of your soft pulse or in the validation of your palm
But out there, in here, or wherever else
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Thought Digressions
I wake up to the sound of the alarm
Buzzing through my sensitive eardrums
I order it to stop, to cut the whining cord
The cog and sprocket system of this world starts again
Like the clock at my grandmother’s
Whose pendulum would swing back and forth
Over and over until it loses the direction it first started with
That’s life, a pendulum reverberating from point A to point B
And the distance from A to B, a blur, a swing, a fleeting memory
As I get up from my lopsided bed,
I attempt to remember those blurred points in space
To retexturize them, polish them, clean them again
Clean enough for me to see them for what they once were
The clarity of a virgin memory, untarnished by the equivocal nature of time
It scares me, oblivion and everything that would go with it
And lately I’ve had to go through this constant rehearsal of memories
Just to make sure I haven’t forgotten the really important ones you know
It’s terrifying shit; it’s like walking through this no-holds-barred minefield
That consumes my being with weird feelings like guilt, or sorrow, or solace,
Or some unlabeled feeling that strains to be felt with utmost urgency
As I go through my morning routine
I go through the tiny rehearsal for my tiny staged mind
I remember exactly two memories during my term break at the province
Seeing and reconnecting with friends who I thought turned into strangers,
And being completely and extremely drunk at a friend’s party
But I do remember also the moments right before I head home,
This South Chinese taxi guy taking me to the airport
The cold season of Hong Kong with a little bit of sun’s striking rays
Touching my gray tray of food on board my Cathay Pacific flight
I had an ice cream sandwich (3 flavors: Vanilla, Strawberry, and Chocolate Fudge)
Here I am two months after, in bed wondering if I can live that memory again
Several years ago, two or three
I was madly in love with someone
I remembered all the pieces I’d write him,
The songs I’d sing to the sound of my untuned voice
The way he walked, the way he dressed, the way he never really stood still
The way he held my hand once in a school event
Not that it meant anything I bet
But now that I look back and try to remember how I felt for the sake of it
I only feel this empty chasm of space
Like running your hands through a filter
That prevents you from perceiving the pain of it, the palpability of it
As if the atoms and subatomic particles of that space in time
Just vanished into thin air
For the sake of making room for temporary safehouse from the insanity of things
Because these creatures hidden in these quantum particles
Man, they break you to pieces
Until you’re nothing but a shell of who you used to be
That’s the thing, you can’t choose what you would remember
And you can’t choose what you would forget
You just do, no matter how painful each memory could be
Because it’s as if the human anatomy has this fuse
Used to shut down all perceptive functions before the walls of Jericho cave in
Yet in the end it’s not the diabolical flood
That haunts me but the unrelenting uncertainty
That uncertainty that today would be a memory remembered
Or yesterday, or the day before that
Or the people I know right now,
The people I’d often force myself to remember every inch of
Will they be there in the next uncertain moment?
Or would I rewrite them
Just like the thousands of characters from my unfinished chapter book?
Is life just an MS Word file?
Is it just an editable piece of storage space
That can be deleted and sent to the constraints of oblivion?
Back in childhood, I remember learning one thing from our gardener
Pickling green mangoes into these glass mason jars to last until who knows when
In retrospect, I wonder if the nature of preserving a memory
Is somewhat like preserving a perishable good
And stuffing it forcefully into a fragile glass jar
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because some people on my twitter are toxic..
okay. i’m gonna delve into a lot of shitty personal life stuff here
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This isn’t going to be like my other posts that’d be nicely written or whatever. I tend to be straightforward with serious things
To my friends and to the people my age
When you have kids of your own, promise me you’d teach them acceptance. Teach them to love and accept others in a way that your own parents might or might not have done. Tell them it’s okay to love and it’s okay to be loved regardless of one’s intelligence, race, sexuality, or religious beliefs. Tell them they’re special and able. Love every inch and crevice of their personalities like they’re the last good things on earth. Love them for who they are and who they choose to be. When I say teach them acceptance, I mean telling them it’s okay not to have high grades, it’s okay to be gay, straight, pansexual, asexual, queer etc., it’s okay not to be Catholic or Christian, it’s okay to be different. Tell them that failing does not add up to stupidity or that being gay or pretty adds up to being a ‘waste’. Tell them that being a woman does not necessarily mean being prim and proper and that being a man does not mean being strong and tough; they are more than their gender or sexuality. Don’t avoid the topic, don’t shift your eyes away, don’t be ignorant and deny that these things exist in life, don’t live in your own secluded bliss. Let your children know that they deserve respect regardless of what they wear. Teach them to see beyond what is visible. Teach them not to fear discrimination or judgment. Speak up. If that means having a few of your fancy friends look at you like you’re some failure of a parent, know that you’ve done all of us suffering from this kind of ignorant discrimination a huge favor. Acceptance knows that value transcends stereotype. You don’t have to tell your children what they’re worth; tell them that worth is an intrinsic property. Let them know that their value does not depend on the people around them, on you, or on anyone else. Teach them that their value is theirs and theirs to own. Be brave just as I am teaching myself to be brave enough to speak up right now.
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Tiny Boxes
I don’t really consider myself as an optimist.
Not that I’m manic-depressive, fastidious, highly unstable, or anything of that sort – just incredibly anxious, self-reserved, and irrefutably awkward. I’ve grown rather ambiguous towards positivity – it’s as if I’m treading through this Morse code borderline between my own whimsical expectations versus the seemingly predestined reality this world has been accustomed with. I’ve always believed that there’s a certain consistency that people need to maintain between expectations and reality and that a split-screen consciousness is key to maintaining some palpable sense of sanity, I don’t know, that’s just me.
Thing is, I’ve spent most of my life immersed in what I thought was my ideology when in fact it was someone else’s. My father always taught me that emotion is an expense and time is gold. You could probably imagine the side effects to that. Between my parents, love is an abstract concept with a bearing of giving endless chances (Meh, I could tell you the entire back story but I really don’t want to sound like a cynic daughter). I was debatably raised to believe that there will always be people better than me so I always have to keep myself on top and that the price of showing any form of emotion and/or affection is just far too high and too great of a risk. To be honest, I prefer being in a semi-automatic state of detachment wherein I am devoid of any feeling for the sake of salvaging a tiny untainted space within myself from the emotional wreckage – or at least whatever’s left of it. That’s just my comfort zone I guess.
I get it. I get that there’s a certain kind of inevitable sadness that dwells within all of us; it’s similar to how there are tiny boxes tucked somewhere under our beds that remain untouched until they end up forgotten. For the most part, the nature of sadness is contoured like those tiny boxes – the less you touch on it, the more you forget they even exist. People can deny the being of these boxes just as people go on living like gears on clockwork rotation. However, I must ask if one can truly live this way for vast periods of time without an existential breakdown or some form of catharsis – is it even possible? We’ve seen it throughout history – the fall of Alexander’s Empire, Pompeii, the Dynastic Cycles – it’s as if mankind’s just bound to reach that stationary phase right before a predetermined downfall as expressed in our logarithmic growth patterns. Maybe in retrospect, Pandora was just trying to do humanity a goddamned favor.
But then recently I’ve found myself looking towards a direction and for once in my life I’ve begun questioning this detachment mechanism I’ve built for myself. I mean how deep could I possibly tuck this box before I find it somewhere I’ve never intended it to be in? Am I a victim of circumstance or a victim of circumstantial mentality? Is it really criminal to expect something good out of life for the fear of disappointment? I really don’t know. All I know is that the more I look to where I reside, the more I realize I’m more than what life has molded me to become, that maybe it’s not wrong to show the slightest bit of emotion whenever a feeling arises, that happiness is not an expense. Well, I know I’m doing good because I am being completely open and vulnerable in my writings lately. I don’t know, it just keeps me sane. I’m not perfect but I’ve learned to teach myself to wear my heart up my sleeve instead of the scars that have formed and coalesced throughout my eighteen years. Maybe, just maybe I’m not a victim of a series of casualties after all.
When my great logarithmic downfall comes and my mind is reduced to disgusting fractals of disembodied thought, will the wholeness of who I really am be enough to supersede? I don’t know. At least for now, I know it’s possible.
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