Yearender

How do you end a year with a bang? Perfectly…

This may be one of the worst years God ever made. Yet I think twice to sink in regrets.

Exactly last year, I had my ear glued to my cellphone, paying attention to every utterance – utterance of which I never really thought would welter to its own conclusion. You can’t have everything. No matter how coveting you become.

This year, I lived too ambitiously. Needless to say, I left many people hanging… I left two people hanging. Because of that, I suffered a terrible loss, one that was unforeseen and life-taking in a frolicsome way.
It was only later that I realized I was breaking for the wrong heart, in the wrong hands. Indeed, it was too late.

Debate and Writing – two of my greatest passions. I obtained them both, and yet each day I wake up with a wet pillow and a hollow soul. Yearning for solitude that can never suffice for my real need. Yet in a trail which chooses career over somber matters, you have to live by rules and definitions.
And after four years of forgetting a lost love, I find myself back to square one. Once more, sheltering a cold and fearsome heart, and again, counting fact per fact.
Fact is, she has you. Reality is, you love her.
Truth is, I can’t forget you. (Just read through the lines.)

Burdens are indispensable, yet weightless just the same. I think of After Eden and how it was written without Arnold (the author) knowing me. When I watch fireworks light the sky, I still favor the starless, black-mantled lone, perhaps for as long as we’re underneath its sanctity.

Now, 2005 says goodbye. Atleast it does, because I still can’t word my farewell. Yet I turn my back to every spitback, to every indirect sting and to every unseen star. I hope that the year ahead, would be a chance for me to reunite with my high school barkada, for I honestly am missing them badly.
Another year for my Tensed sisters and I to look forward to more sleepovers, more get-together’s, and more food trips.
Another year for more debate tournaments and more journal(CSJ) published works.
Another year, welcoming nights with a Biology textbook on one hand and a cup of steaming caffeine on the other.
Another year with and without you.

So how do I bid 2005, a year of dramedy?
Nah.
Just join me in drinking this bottle of beer.

Woman in Chains

It's under my skin but out of my hands
I'll tear it apart but I won't understand

[-Tears for Fears-]

80’s Music. Misunderstood. Subtle. Unchanging.

***
I’m a self-confessed ignoramus. I only found out late last night almost half of my high school barkada have their own blogs. Placed them in the Links, go check them out.

***
It’s hard to make people understand stuff you, yourself, couldn’t fully grasp. And it’s nerve-wracking to hear a hint of disdain from them for not doing so. They would not flip an inch of effort to actually feel your burden.
My head is spinning.

Yesterday, I finished two movies (Sky High and Just like Heaven), half of Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe, and a can of Chunkee corned beef, all by myself. Am not a fan of African literature really. They make me want to sleep, which is the exact reason why I chose to read it at 10 o’clock last night – simultaneous with my using the messenger.

Sigh. Things do fall apart.

Just like Heaven is a feel-good movie. Made me think if lost souls could really, possibly fall in love with an innocent human being. Not to mention, with or without the existence of fate. Pfft. Personal comment: Gotta love the rooftop garden! Had that hint of Zen architecture in it.

Don’t make me talk about Sky High.
Just make sure you’ll have your younger siblings, nephews, nieces, or any toddler, for that matter, while watching the movie. Lest you want to bicker yourself for wasting time.

***
My dad just installed a new software in the PC – one that gives me the freedom to download more music, more movies, more of me.
Heh. He finally concedes to my unstoppable need.

***

When you're dead and one-dimensional, Harry has found, it is easier to walk away from things. Even if you're walking sideways.

[-Amalin-]

Of Dragonflies and Collisions

There’s a prelude to silence, to depth and to misery. Although, I may be that, it has turned to be a sickness, eating my inner organs bit by bit, tissue by tissue.

***
Just got back from Debate Camp last night. Fun.
I learned, I improved.
Another instance that gave me the golden ticket back to memory lane.
Somehow, it felt nauseating.

***
We go back to places that can never be familiar to me, except on tiptoed streaks. We press open our warmth, our diseases that unite nothing.
I make it a point that we remain laid-back to archeries and rocks that light the incandescent flame, the impoverished glow. It breaches the treaties I never really kept, as my fingers were crossed. Crossed, till now, to memorize your edges… to trace back the empty chairs and winds.

This night we lift to playful symmetry. A bashed torrent leaving both of us unharmed, unscathed. If it would be the only way for you to seize reprisal for every fixation I left, then let the fracas be.

Dragonflies.

Collisions.

Let’s never grow up.

Never
Grow up.

Uchi's Day

Its Uchi's Birthday. ^_^

All God's blessings... Regards to you and Mari...

=-"*"-=

=-"*"-=

I find that many of us are jaded over life's constant crash and burn. But yearly, there's Christmas -- a time to convince ourselves that there's still a pint of goodness left in our enraged systems.

My Christmas, on the other hand, is a time to think and reread regrets. Although these can never be changed, I find them essential to my wanting to relive certain days. Much like celebrating New Year in advance.

Surprisingly, I'm not missing school. I'm enjoying every bit of the Christmas vacation, only sometimes, I find myself bothered by two people. One who tirelessly bombards me every single hour (Give me a rest, will you??!), and one who never cease to make me remember the best and worst Christmas of my life.

Somehow, life is happy because of you... Happy Birthday Uchi... Peace and Love.

Last Christmas' Poetry

what are gifts for, if not to wrap the ends of your trace
where boldly, we are lanscaped memories, where liquors
dance in both art and melody. this is why you unearth a
malaise developing in which roads are unforeseen.
taking the laps of an unalterable semblance crawling
its way back to your recapture, to your retentiveness.
this is where i stop believing that you existed for my
unsatisfied redemption, for you gash me intricately
through those words that soil my mind unendingly.
let me not palliate the tampered heart you once let me
carry, and so till the hopeless now. you revise those waters
and turned them to fiber, which unfalteringly, i cannot
live without.somehow i feel so untamed, in an unrest
that goes through nowhere and forebodes no one and
nothing. funny how my weakness finds peace in your
bloodiness, how my anguish adores your constant vexing,
how my sacrifice becomes impaired and flawed. all because
you made them to be that: to be your unruled imposition
made out of your own definition of love. maybe she lives
under the gazes of your dark brown pupils, and the pointed
ends of your long-back hair; still, it is but old and tiring for
me to think you'd relive a tarnished truth, a lie. so which
catches your mistletoe in each christmas i'm entitled
to another memory you've left in my soul's cupboard. so which
leaves me to be the being which i hated for so long.
and we wait once again as the leaves shed to form the
stars i never saw, the stars the waves never learned to
play with, to touch and to discover. so much for that ravage,
for which caused the reason why i could never hear, see
and walk again in that light, on that cobblestone of sticks
and bones, which still continue to cause me pain. now
i end this day, forgetting how i could ever evoke the perfection
which summons me just the same. perhaps this day is for him.
but oh, how i wish, just how i wish, i can borrow even just
a fracture of a second that belongs to its unselfish history.

**this is probably one of my personal faves in all the poems i've written... considering i only wrote it now while i'm scrambling to post something in my blog for Christmas eve...

[jeez... Christmas, and still, I think of him... Happy Birthday Jess!!! all my love.]

Hark the Emeralds!

Here, in a bounty of words, where I can layer myself so thickly with disguises that I will not recognize my own two eyes, I will strip to the bone for you. I will pare away flesh and blood to make myself clean for you. This is as honest as I can be. Peel away the layers I have cloaked myself in and you will find this beating heart. I will crack open this world for you and pour it into three words. They have been said before. They are no new revelation. But they are not my mold; I am theirs.

-Amalin-

Inclined to sweet sweet literature, I find myself craving for words that can somehow fill my satiety, both for devotion and complexity. I have two days left to savor the predisposals of Christmas. Somehow, I find myself wanting more sleep.

I said I wish for lesser tears, but come on. It won't be as memorable and as striking without them. When I was in third year high school, I prevented myself from that supposed privilege of venting out all my afflictions; it made my soul rot in anguish. I wonder what made me live, considering she lacerated me even more.

There's a letter on the desktop that i dug out of a drawer the
last truce we ever came to from our adolescent war and i start
to feel a fever from the warm air through the screen you come
regular like seasons shadowing my dreams and the mississippi's
mighty but it starts in Minnesota at a place where you could walk
across with five steps down and i guess that's how you started like
a pinprick to my heart but at this point you rush right through me
and i start to drown and there's not enough room in this world for
my pain signals cross and love gets lost and time passed makes
it plain of all my demon spirits i need you the most i'm in love with
your ghost i'm in love with your ghost dark and dangerous like a
secret that gets whispered in a hush (don't tell a soul) when i wake
the things i dreamt about you last night make me blush
(don't tell a soul) when you kiss me like a lover then you sting me
like a viper i go follow to the river play your memory like the piper
and i feel it like a sickness how this love
is killing me but i'd walk into the fingers of your fire willingly and
dance the edge of sanity i've never been this close in love with your
ghost ooooh: unknowing captor you'll never know how much you
pierce my spirit but i can't touch you can you hear it a cry to be free
or i'm forever under lock and key as you pass through me now i see
your face before me i would launch a thousand ships to bring your heart
back to my island as the sand beneath me slips as i burn up in your
presence and i know now how it feels to be weakened like Achilles
with you always at my heels and my bitter pill to swallow is the silence
that i keep that poisons me i can't swim free the river is too deep though
i'm baptized by your touch i am no worse at most in love with your ghost

That's my all-time favorite song: Ghost by Indigo Girls... Poetic justice. Still, unexcused.

Here and Now

First the burner, and now the media player's ranting about its job... Damn. Now I can't watch episode 8 of HYD... Here's to boredom.

Queerly speaking, I love holding someone else's hand. Not that I'm a freak or something, but I love the way how fingers intertwine around that of another's... It makes me feel secured, giddy in an inexplicable way.

I went book shopping yesterday - although I didn't buy any; can't call them book window shopping, anyway - and I got hooked into reading this Philippine Publication entitled "Sin". It's a new book. Mavy forgot the author. Heh. For one, it is quite sinful for a read. Lots of erotic scenes. Especially one with a geisha... Kind of reminded me of Arthur Golden's Memoirs of a Geisha. It will be shown in the movies soon. Ditsi (semi-evil) has read this as well.

Kat Miranda, one of my fellow debaters in CSTP, got me addicted to some masochistic genre of poetry for the past two weeks now. Mind you, they're damn good!

Here's one:
[-1-]
Listen, I sold my dreams for you.
There is no bribing of the gods these days, no easy sacrifices;
his arrows were hot fire that ravaged my veins and broke through the sunrises
to leave me panting, dragon-breathed and dying,
never to love anyone but you.
He asked me if they were stolen, these dove-winged dreams
broken open, spilt against the pillow, red-veined and blue-blooded.
I assured him they were not.
He told me they were not enough for a fairytale;
imitations are cheap these days, the real thing priced like venetian glass.
I let him see the pain panted out like fire upon my tongue.
I let him taste the thought of your heartbeat and the brittleness of my own,
worn thin through pacing, a caged lioness' death row walk.
He promised me the best my dreams could buy.
How was I to know it would never be enough?

[-2-]
I invite you in under a sky of blood;
in past the tides of my breath and the paper-thin tissues of my skin,
peeling away like the rotting clouds so that you may nestle into the core of me,
the stinging wounds of a beating heart.
There you crouch until you unfurl, sphynx-like and searing,
flames licking into the glided chambers of my beating blood until I am broken
and bleed rivers of gold.
You never loved me, I say to you, and you leave me lying, burning,
the last wick of a dying flame.
You walk away with my heart like nectarine flesh in your hands, pulsing and hot.
I see you and my eyes swallow you whole before I burn away.

[-3-]
The remnants of you will cling to me
until I am scattered back to the birthplace of the gods and buried with my futile dreams
Every moment will taste like you, bitter and branding,
and in shop windows I will see your reflection,
I will hear your voice just before sleep smothers my lips,
I will catch the autumn gold of you out of the corner of my eye,
My life will be attuned to you, a static-filled picture stained with you,
and you will be the jagged edge on every piece of me.
In death, I think that Charon will have your eyes
and until I wade into the waves where neither of us exist,
I will burn for no one else.

That's not actually the whole thing, barely half of it. But ain't it good shit? Heehee. Gotta love poetry!
I do not know the author, by the way. The words ain't mine, they're borrowed. I think they're from some HP fanfic. Hope I guessed right.
To be able to read one, you have to go through crap in the Internet, as Kat and I would say. But patience is a virtue. See what it bore?
Kat's a blessing to my vehemence.

I can only dream that I can write poems as good as this. I cried over these texts, seemingly tearing your heart from the inside and piercing it with an unreadable tattoo. Yet, it is but sheer impalpability to one who has acknowledged the importance of pain to one that dares to love unconditionally. Its sadness burns your very core, while its remains lurk like provoking ashes from within.

I wonder what made them write with such torment.

Fade to Black

The Black and White issue of Momentum just got released yesterday... Yipee! The crow prose got published... Although I only had three poems, Black Saturday prose was also published. Go ahead and read them... Heehee...

Here are some of the poems that weren't published (actually, they were already for layout yet I bickered our EIC to reviewing the crow prose instead): Shun is Uchi, by the way... Oh, and I'm not sure if some here will be published in Mirage... Anyhow, it won't hurt to read.

GOD WANTED YOU TO BE ME
Precious
Misled by your desires
Captured
Under your white fire

Intelligent
Yet lost by a mile
Sophisticated
Inexisting for a while

Unchanging
Like your colors with mine
Completed
In each taken time


THE CONDITION OF A HALF-HEARTED
The hand left itself hanging loose at
the edge of the coffeetable. Blood kept
on gushing out of those deep blade
cuts. Waters fall in perfect synchronization
with the rain outside the translucent
windows, pasted on the brick wall. Like
an invitation to an unknown world, where
death is the only key to eternal
happiness. Dust is withdrawn with a light
shake, making it wisp through the mixing
wind. Silence keeps it sane. Darkness
makes it alive. Hands are then held tight
like two lovers meeting in provoking
twilight. Eerie chanting, bellowed singing,
utter whispering.
So… this is how it feels.

DANCING IN THE DARK
temples down and bruised
where we make differences
unite under each mark
there plays my own defeat
my slumberless
my pitiless
calmness

tiptoes sharp and said
where we live malevolence
beneath each held breath
there sings my secret
my prayerless
my boundless
meekness

fingers locked and bold
where we dance eternity
frozen in each lifetime
there breaks my existence
my powerless
my meaningless
darkness

Being you Being
To be
a crime…
You need to be bold
resilient
passionate.
And so I was...
As different as
each spectacle
taking your every breath.

To be
your hurt…
I searched the wrong
the beautiful
the untold.
And so I did…
As difficult as
the lines
left on those soaked papers.

To be
the end…
I start all over again
again
again.
And so it was…
As perfect as
your eyes
unblinking in dryness.

Apathetic

What the hell? And I actually thought I was doing a good job writing in this blog... Forget it.
I envy those who had one years back.

Okay. So life gets complicated once in a while. Yesterday, I forgot to mention that I horribly sucked in my Analytical Chemistry Lab test because I didn't even flich a finger to study for it the night before. Like I care... Biology classes are slowly turning me into whipcream after two days of undying quiz mortification.
Damn.

I missed two trainings this week, and not that I'm being assumptive (CSTP peeps' fave word), but Niño'll surely kill me tomorrow morning. See we had CWTS foundation/charity Xmas party last Tuesday, followed by a no-training-Wednesday, a semi-Christmas party yesternight and an eventful drinking-slash-sisig session just a few hours ago... Now tell me, can you blame me for missing all those trainings?
Yeah, well maybe you can.
Inuman is one of my eternal weaknesses. Wouldn't miss it for the world.

Just got addicted to some blog flicks... Addictus coming through...

You Are an Emo Rocker!

Expressive and deep, lyrics are really your thing. That doesn't mean you don't rock out... You just rock out with meaning. For you, rock is more about connecting than grandstanding.

What Kind of Rocker Are You?

Your Personality Profile

You are elegant, withdrawn, and brilliant. Your mind is a weapon, able to solve any puzzle. You are also great at poking holes in arguments and common beliefs. For you, comfort and calm are very important. You tend to thrive on your own and shrug off most affection. You prefer to protect your emotions and stay strong.

The World's Shortest Personality Test

Your Brain's Pattern

You have a dreamy mind, full of fancy and fantasy. You have the ability to stay forever entertained with your thoughts. People may say you're hard to read, but that's because you're so internally focused. But when you do share what you're thinking, people are impressed with your imagination.

What Pattern Is Your Brain?

***

I don't think I'd be able to attend the Christmas party this Sunday. Reasons?

1. Bankruptcy (My dad decided to hand me my allowance on a daily basis.)
2. CWTS (Need I say more?)
3. Still don't have a gift.

Oh yeah, in line with those gift thingamajigs for Christmas, sadly I wasn't able to go to CSJ's Xmas party and to hand over my gift to Phoebe. I hope she won't hate me for giving it too late... Say Monday?

This is probably one of the "friendliest" Christmas of all time! I got lots of gifts from friends, and being the overly ecstatic Mavy that I already am, I opened them all and wore them the following day... Hekhek... Watch me spoil them. There are actually a few more coming sometime next week. Not that I'm expecting more... Or yeah, well maybe I am. So much for that.

Written on Mirrors

It's official... As of today, I'm the only person in Mafia who lives by the single status... Ma and Pa are happily together, Glen's considerably taken, Riz has Pao, Karla's with Jai, EJ never runs out of girls, Bien's committed to Amor... And as of 9:09pm just this night, another one just left me hanging...
Not that I'm scrambling to get a love life in a snap to go with the flow... Like what Jake said a few hours ago, sometimes things just don't work out well for everyone... And I'm not talking about luck here, but mere chances and fate...

I'm happy with how my life is right now... And truthfully speaking, for the first time in my life, I am satisfied with how everything is situated around me... Although i'm still cringing about some harsh realities, I don't let them bother my enthusiasm over stuffs that make me happier each sinking minute... As what is said in the movie Vanilla Sky, "Every passing moment is a chance to turn it all around." I'm happy for each day, God makes numerous moments for me to remember and to get by with...

***
Metanoia is a transformation, may well be a change of heart and/or attitude... I've always had this belief that I shouldn't change for anyone, yet there are instances in my life that I wish for some people to change... Not that I'm going against my motto or anything... But sometimes people are just reluctant to changing their wrong ways, for they know it'd hurt them for they always have that habit of being "that"... Trashing it would just be too ridiculous... But thinking about it... I never really cared about changing someone, not until now... Usually I'd end up ignoring the person, yet now I actually talk into some people of actually wanting someone to change... Not that it's backstabbing or anything, because I simply hate that... But more like getting the views of others for fear that I may also be wrong in some ways...

Apparently, I'm not... And once again, I find myself earning the right to acquire hatred as a demon...

Reality-Based Analysis

This would be the last sentimental crap I'd be posting in this blog... Atleast for this year, that is... Melodrama is part of a human being's nature... Thus, I succumb to its stupidity once in a while...

***
Letting go is somewhat relative to an individual you once loved, yet we forget that a negation is always existent in any definition (expanded, at that. My thanks to Technical Writing lessons.). For that, I've come to understand that sometimes we need to move on for someone who might not get the courage to let us go... We have to be weak to prove our strength... As Milan Kundera would say in his book The Unbearable Lightness of Being, "When the strong is too weak to leave the weak, the weak should be strong enough to leave." And if you know what it feels like to be murdered, you wouldn't want another fragile person - like you were once - fathom the same torment...

That's why I'm doing the unbearable to save you... Because your deservance cannot be found in my being... In my presence...

***
Remember the sugarcoats? They were for you... And they were rightfully labeled as such, for they were indeed made to appeal and please other eyes... Straightforward - the readers of this blog...

My apologies... For again, I'm living up to epitomize the passion I've long loathed... Malevolence...

***
This is to deliver you from such deviance and put you in a state your kindness deems untouchable... Your affection is what encompasses my cold heart... Your averseness is what wakes me up in search for more...

Waiting is not an affirmation, that's why I resist in my unsaid impediments with you...

Now I battle with my sentiments, for this is the clearest path for both you and I...
I need not delve too much in this matter, for I know you'd agree to it both willingly and unwillingly...

With these, I tarnish, I befoul my blinded fate's dictate and make it live in vigilance, as what you've made me comprehend better...
Thus, I close the book to which there was no vivid cover that awaits my judgment...

Beloved, Formless

It's scary... Everything's fine and working, and I'm not used to it... Probably now my burdens seem much lesser because I have someone in my mind...

But, not really... I'm still indecisive about what I feel...

***
Funny how inspiration dawns upon you at the time you don't need it the most... I'm excelling in debate... I'm making a lot of people happy, and somehow that leaves me to choose to be that as well...

They say angels are stabbed with wings
to fly, where no
on,
human,
has ever been... I've been there
perhaps only in dreams, I had...
when we stood on four irises...
Somehow, everything became
bearable.
For I've come to realize
at that moment
we stood on the
quicksand...
Afloat on the same past tenses
Abridged by those sheer mums and ruins
One in that unchanging spectacle...

***
I'm not ready for Dialectics; much more, for Crossfire... Kat deserves to be there more than me... I'm not even a senior to begin with...
I wish one person could actually see the gravity of the matter and try to change for her own betterment...
I'm still concerned, one way or another...

***
I believe blogs, or journals for that matter, are not made available for you to bash each other online... Ergo, I won't say much about this certain entry I saw in a Friendster blog except this:

If you're all flared up, then to hell with it and see me before you pass the message unto your foreign chatmates...

You know who you are... You already professed your fearlessness...

Instant flaring a.k.a. defense mechanism, FYI, is a prerequisite to actual guilt... Note that down, will you...
You're more of a fan of my blog, than I am of yours... ^_^

***
Christmas is on its way... I wonder what Santa's wrapping up for me this time around...
I wish for lesser tears...
Just keep in heart that this is a season for Him and not for us...

Sugarcoats II

When does a person stop living? Is it at the moment one loses touch of breath and air; or at the day one feels the steadiness and subtlety of a loss that foregoes all worth and meaning?
Maybe we all have our own ghosts...

***
I've started to appreciate cliches and their purpose for haunting each day that might go unlived. Sadly, I am one of those people, who neglect waking up to his/her irrational fear...
The fear of pangs and hurts... The fear of wanting to be of just worth... For I'd forever be a pessimist... A beloved one at that...

***
Happiness is a choice, one of the cliches I've learned to acknowledge and love... And for now, I choose to be ignorant to it, and instead, first find it's utmost essence...
I took a peek at those wilted predicaments just last night, before I hung up the telephone...
I chose to welcome mirth, in the presence of you...

However, I know no other way... Similar to the postman's (Pablo Neruda) work, mine has been bound to metaphorical gloom and suicide... I hate it, for I've become a parasite to sadism, much worse, to my very self...

I've loved pins and needles for so long...

***
How would you know if not a deja vu risk? Trailers for Momentum's next issue... Boundless. No more than a word.

Sugarcoats

Love is constant, unchanging and permanent, or so Shakespeare would say... Yet, can I just care to raise a point of information that there are instances in one's life that you're given more than one opportunity to love someone... And that can't be helped...
You may find a new one and love that person as much, or even more, but that does not mean you've learned to forget and to stop loving the past's someone just the same...
Okay, this sucks...

***
Let's just put it this way... I'm happy...
And there's no stopping it!
But him...