when swift winds come unnoticed

Okay, so I’ve been MIA for quite some time. The past two months of 2010 came by so fast I could hardly keep up with all that has happened. Though apparently, 2010 did not start too well for me, either.

Strained relationships, shattered friendships, and broken trusts.

If I were to give a title for the period of January to February, it can only fall short of betrayal.

Now that it’s all said and done,
I can’t believe you were the one
To build me up and tear me down,
Like an old abandoned house.

What you said when you left
Just left me cold and out of breath.
I fell too far, was in way too deep.
Guess I let you get the best of me.

It’s really sad. More of tragic, rather. Like a brother-kills-brother story. Why some people could do such an awful thing is beyond me. I reckon it has got to be the most unexpected thing to happen, of all the unexpected(s).

Well, I never saw it coming.
I should’ve started running
A long, long time ago.
And I never thought I’d doubt you,
I’m better off without you
More than you, more than you know.

-excerpts from Chris Daughtry’s Over You

It may seem surprising how I’ve been able to manage amidst all this nightmare. Well, I’ve learned that patience is a virtue. But really, if it had not been for the few special people who had been with me in these trying times, I wouldn’t have had that epiphany, and I would’ve already gone mad. Thank you guys, especially for reminding me not to do anything stupid time and time again. You know who you are.

I’ve come to believe that indeed, things happen for a reason, or if not, that we simply have to look closer to see the reason for everything that happens.

It’s time to move on, and I guess this time, there’s no looking back.

on the coming of 2010

2010 is just around the corner, and I’m still trapped in this stupid melancholic abyss. I’m at that point where I want to get out of here, but another part of me keeps telling me that I shouldn’t, because I may already be so close to finding what I originally came here for. Despite the suffocation, lack of direction, and the feelings of being torn apart, I still hold on. And every single day, I die.

If it were only that easy to use the head when it comes to matters of the heart, I would have risen from the ashes long ago.

back 2 the bonfire

Sometimes I find myself unable to differentiate between truly living my dream, and merely being carried away.

I was at the Ateneo for the bonfire victory party a couple of hours ago. After all, 16 years of my 25 years of existence on this planet had been spent in the Ateneo. If I had been too lazy to drag myself out of the house to attend last year’s celebration, I owed it to my alma mater to come and celebrate with it this time.

The celebration wasn’t as moving as the one we had which dates back in 2002—back when I was still in high school and the Ateneo Blue Eagles became the basketball champions in the UAAP Season 65—but the Ateneo Spirit present in the event was still moving nonetheless. There were some pretty neat video presentations, a few entertaining programs, a bonfire and some loud song numbers.

Being back in the Ateneo Grade School campus with all this charged up festivity happening right in front of me, memories of my True Blue life came into me like audible flashes that built to a glorious crescendo and crashed into a single, perfect tone of nostalgia.

Grade school days at the library.

Class nights.

Intramurals.

And just about every Ateneo experience.

Then suddenly, I found myself wanting to pursue a teaching career in the Ateneo.

It’s funny, I know. The combination of nostalgia, sentimentality, and a heartfelt celebration may have just worked their way into my system and got me carried away. But the thoughts of teaching in the school I have always considered home, giving back to the Ateneo, studying again (taking Masters in Education), a good and accessible work location, a very competitive compensation package and wonderful benefits make me feel quite certain about this.

While I was in the car on my way home, I actually pictured a life moderating a grade school class, teaching, moderating an Activity (gradeschool org), coaching the Ateneo Grade School Volleyball Team, taking masters in Education, and doing freelance writing on the side. It was a half-scary, half-exciting thought. But after chatting with a batchmate who works as a teacher in the AGS and getting his insight, I became more convinced that this particular endeavor might actually work well for me.

Well, I’ve sent a bunch of job applications to various companies last Friday, and by “a bunch” I mean a little over 20 or so. I just hope that I already get a job very soon. This job hunt has gone on for too long now—I don’t think I can afford to be idle any longer. And as for teaching, I’m still not 100% sure about it; it’s too early to tell and they’re not gonna be accepting any applications yet—not until December. I guess my decision will depend greatly on the job that I’ll be having before the year ends.

I wish that at this very moment in time, I could also see the bonfire as a symbol of personal triumph, but 2009 has not been a victorious year for me: too many bad decisions, unwise detours and wrong turns. I hope all of my life’s uncertainties burned away with those long planks of wood this evening, so that the next time I look at the same flames of victory, I can truly say to myself that I really am Back 2 the Bonfire.

Ondoy and the great flood

On my way home from the dentist last Saturday morning, I noticed that the clouds were unusually dark in an awkward kind of way. There was a pungent hint of madness in the overlaid sky, but a furious heaven opening up and venting all its pent-up anger unto an entire metro for two to three straight days was the last thing that I expected to happen.

The whole of Marikina area was a disaster. Ravaging flood of near-biblical proportions swept through the entire city. The glass walls of Jollibee and Tropical Hut broke into shards; computers in Banco de Oro floated on water like plastic bottles in the sea. But as always, while our neighbors were pestered by the uninvited waves, our house remained safe from the threats of the rampaging monsoon. And surprisingly, in this goddamn situation the typhoon Ondoy actually gave me a lot of realizations—realizations that perhaps I should have had earlier in life.

Back in school, I was always childish and naive—often wishing for some storm to hit us because it meant that classes will be suspended. But after Ondoy made a big joke out of my city, I’ve come to see how blessed I actually am: flood never reaches our street and never do I find myself in situations where I would have to scurry to higher grounds—even if the entire Marikina City was already submerged in water.

Having no electricity for three days also made me feel as though my life had been distorted in all sorts of ways. I realized that I’ve grown to be a victim of technology. After the incident, I could no longer imagine how it is to live without an electric fan, a fluorescent light, and a laptop that is connected to the internet 24/7. Three days of endless-paypay’s, candle-lit-meals, and nothing-to-do’s was already agonizing. If it had been extended a day more, I would’ve gone mad.

Well, there was hardly any damage to my home, except that some parts of the roofs and ceilings gave way to irritating drips in my room. The sad thing was that while I did pretty okay, many of the friends that I knew actually waded in neck-deep flood water that also rampaged their cars and homes. No matter how safe from the storm our house had been, the little drips had left behind a mark in my heart that will never make me wish for another typhoon to come and suspend classes ever again.

Kudos to the volunteers who have gone the extra mile to reach out to the victims of Ondoy. For the first time in my life, I have actually felt my heart weaken at the sight of a typhoon aftermath.

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there are just those days

It still puzzles me how a strong outburst of rain could sometimes randomly fall in the middle of an unsuspecting,  happy sunshine. It can be helpful at times, like when the prickly summer heat is already getting into your nerves. But there are just those days when everything’s perfect, except that the weather suddenly decides to be every bit uncooperative.

I don’t really know what hit me today, but the storm-mometer has totally gone mad. Perhaps, when you’ve tried so hard to suppress so much sadness by starring in a grand act, come curtain call you end up realizing how everything—your smiles, excitement and glee—was really nothing more than pretend. And once Pandora’s Box is open, all hell once cramped to fit in that small space breaks loose.

tick-tock, tick-tock

image by Beaudaniels-illustration.com

I was reading through Carmi‘s blog a couple of hours ago. After seeing all the shots that she had taken from the other side of the world, I came to wonder when, or if, I’ll ever get my chance.

To see the world and experience life to the fullest.

It’s a trite and commonplace remark, but it has always been very meaningful to me. When I was still a little boy, I was in such a hurry to grow up and be one of the big guys; I was a brat who couldn’t wait for his turn to enter the corporate playground. But when age finally caught up with me, I came to understand why one person once told me to keep a certain pace.

I dream of a life full of riches, color and adventure. I confess of having a top-ten-things-to-do-before-I-die list locked up somewhere in my head. It’s when you’re getting older that you begin to appreciate why—albeit being cliche—the villains in your favorite cartoon shows back then were desperately searching for the fountain of youth. There are so many things to do and so many places to explore in this world, but apparently there’s also so little time. Growing up with a routinary 8 to 5 existence while penny-pinching my way through a limited budget has somehow tainted my ability to see myself with the grand things I used to hope for. But of course, I still fight my way through the fog, believing that there are a lot of opportunities for us out there, waiting to be discovered.

A child’s innocence can be so fascinating—it gives them plenty of room to dream, and us, to learn from.

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on money matters and financial literacy

Budgeting—as in real, strict budgeting—has always been an entirely alien concept to me. Somehow, money has always managed to convince me that they should not stay in my wallet, pocket or bank account for too long. It’s been like trying to hold water at the palm of my hands. One business, three office jobs and a couple of freelance projects after, no matter how large an income I got, I would find myself back right where I started. My financial blueprint is apparently flawed.

In line with the recent influx of new goals, jobs and projects, it has become quite thrilling to regard this moment as an opportune time to learn and exercise financial literacy. Being stuck in a pit can be oddly comforting; there is something about knowing that there is no other place to go to but up that gives me something to look forward to each day.

Yesterday, I had lunch with one of my best friends -slash- brother Caloy after months of not having seen each other. After extended hours of catching up, some laughs and a couple of fiscal discussions, I felt like I’m all set to trudge the path of financial discipline with unshakable conviction. He’s always been the best person to talk to for financial advice. Surrounding yourself with like-minded people and learning from them is such an invaluable experience. Looking up to someone helps keep you in tune with your goals.

Things change once you’re on your own, when you’ve stepped out of college and have acquired the need to fend for yourself. Coming into the real world mentally unprepared after throwing that mortar board cap in the air on graduation day can be foreboding. The world is a cruel place; it’s best to get your guns ready before you set foot in the wilds.

My financial plan’s still half-cooked, but I’m off to perfect it. This is going to be very very exciting.

on things going poof

After some cuts, pastes and a few clicks here and there, in just one frenzied sweep the project I had made for a client flies directly to the recycle bin, which I immediately and carelessly mouse-over to right-click and empty.

God, what was I thinking? Oh, my mistake. I wasn’t thinking.

Fourteen different file recovery programs downloaded and tried after, I’ve come to believe that the document is evil; it did not want to be found.

Poof. A hard day’s work goes bye-bye, just like that.

Maeyahn and I pondered about how some things can just go poof! Files for work. Five years worth of digital memories. A self-penned novel. Relationships. Feelings.

It makes you wonder what would happen if you can just easily take that particular thing from the banks of your memory and hit ‘undelete’.

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aftermath

Going on that journey was like crossing a pathway of burning coals; insane, painful, grim. It brought back memories so dark and mortifying—like there were cold hands reaching out to pull me down into the abyss where I had left them long ago to die. But quite strangely, despite that distinct element of madness involved, the experience itself was equally beautiful and comforting.

The ocean was nothing short of amazing; it has always been to me, no matter the color or texture of the sand it chooses to land its waves on. It had the magic of making me feel at home every time. When its gentle waters touched my skin at the shore, it told me that I was about to find what it was that I went there to look for.

I found the thought of redefining the meaning of vacation very attractive. The idea of staying in a private resort was brimmed over by the promise of adventure. Drinking authentic lambanog with fishermen friends, submerging into the sea, staying the night by the shore, visiting the rice fields and trekking the long stretch of rocks and streams up until the waterfalls for a grand picnic finale sounded more fulfilling, and yes, they were.

After the short time-off from civilization and all, I came to an ironic realization that realizations have become as bland and as redundant as the number of times I have been realizing the same things. I’m at that point where my goals and slacking off no longer make sense when put together; I’m 25—charging mistakes to experience has become a luxury I cannot afford.

And so coming back, I have set my priorities straight and necessary farewells, bid; tears perhaps have yet to be shed. Though the next time I leave the suburbs, it will not be to find myself again; I have found me already. The next backpacking will be for fun.

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