Everyone who knows me enough to have had an argument with me (trivial or not) knows that I am a bad debater (or argue-er O__o if such a word exists). In the rare times that I do win an argument, my opponent turns around a few days later to kick my butt.

LOL. So anyway, I noticed just today that in a little way, I've learned to shut my mouth. Some might disagree, (since I still talk a hell lot with the people I'm supposedly comfortable with) but nonetheless, I'm kind of proud of myself for it. It's not a very huge breakthrough yet, though, since I've only started shutting my mouth on the internet when I'm commenting..Or at least, when i'm commenting on a comment that reacts to an original comment of mine that didn't quite mix well with the beliefs and perceptions of the person whose blog I commented on.

Sometimes there's a pain in my chest that I've now associated with having to restrain myself from saying my side of the argument. It's like accepting my loss before anything comes out of my fingertips (apart from accepting also that I am less adept at getting my point through, and more incompetent at defending my argument till the very end) Always, when I stop in the tracks of my second rebuttal comment because I know that it is a lost battle, there is this throbbing in my stomach that screams "Unfair!" Especially when the comment I am trying in vain to defend is one whose only purpose is to attempt to make the writer feel better about whatever it was that was being complained.

Maybe that's why Sig doesn't comment very much. Then again, this can't be her case because she is the best at arguing among everyone I know, if at least in my group of friends. And then again again, whenever she does comment, it's one comment that hits home.

Maybe that's why I have a journal. A garbage bin of all my rejected, restrained, unaccepted, refuted and unuttered arguments that will never reach human ears, haywhich I believe are still worth archiving despite the defeat it had or will have gotten had it found itself in the arena of debate.










Sometimes, I can't help but pity those who think they know all they need to know to react the way they do. There are things I said only half completely, but only so because their reaction to what they already knew (which was half the story) disappointed me. Now they will always act disappointingly as reactions to details that will soon be old and shabby, and never realize in this respect that there are always two sides to one coin, and that sometimes one side has heavier value than the other.









Settle with what you know, and milk it with your emotions until you realize that it is an old rag, and that it is the only thing you have to remind yourself of me.

You look at me because I'm the only one, apart from yourself. Your mirror must be broken.











They say that indifference is worse than hate. Maybe I should work on that.

What does it mean when you say, I won’t tell? Does it mean I won’t tell for a short time but then tell anyway? Does it mean I won’t tell for a while and then when I decide it’s about time to tell someone I will pick the most inappropriate person to tell it to? Does it mean I won’t tell for a little bit and then spill the beans to someone without thinking what the possible consequences of that someone knowing will be? Does it mean I will tell only to those who will never ever tell it to anyone else but the next person?

What did you mean when you said you won’t tell?

Why did you goddam tell?

Do you see what it’s doing to us? Did you forsee this fault that your earthquake opened between us? Much like Abraham’s sea, it is opening wider and wider and don’t you feel it? Don’t you notice it at all?

Goddam you. Your story is more repulsive than mine; broken if mine were chipped; hell if mine were purgatory. But I didn’t tell. And if I did, I didn’t tell the wrong person.

What did you mean when you said you won’t tell? You meant you will tell, and tell the wrong person, and it meant I will never give you any access to such a degree of depth in my life again.

Sunday, January 14, 2007

-FOR THE BARKADA ONLY-

Just putting a suggestion out and hoping everyone in the kada is amenable to it. :) Stacy mentioned this to me in the last week or so and I must confess, I had been thinking of something very similar to it and, what the heck, might as well ask if you guys would think it possible and if you all like the idea. The idea is that we all save money for a while (about a year or more) and by the time graduation comes for some of us, we would have enough money to go somewhere on our own. No "adult" supervision (good gods, we're all old enough to think and make decisions for ourselves already >.>) AND no boys (all males are banned from the trip and if you find someone on the trip, he's not allowed to tag along either :p). So what do you guys think? There are almost no details yet since we don't know when we're going, where we're going, how much it would cost us or even if you guys are willing to go through with this. The only detail we have is that if we do push through, the vacation must last at least 14 days or it would just be too short to go sightseeing, relax, have fun and all that. Post comments if you are at least interested. :)

(0) Comments? O.o posted by Signia : 11:36 PM

What do you think guys? You think it's possible. We've made very rough estimates (at least I have) of the total cost if we went to Bohol (excluding everyone's pocket money and individual fare--which will be the most burdensome of all) Hehehe...It's actually not so big (the total costs I mean), but if we want to indulge and get fat and lazy, we might hafta save an extra 5k in total. :D Really, I think this is feasible.

I needed a title for my old short story, and now I realize I've lost the knack for titles alltogether, even in my blog entries.

Two hours ago, when I just got home, I was thinking, well what do you know, this new blog has increased my blogging productivity and willingness to post, yeah! Only to realize that that sort of enthusiasm wanes on the second hour. Unfortunately for any one who enjoys my entries (including me, when I'm being narcisstic) I've let the feeling sit too long and it's dried up into an raisin, or the pork oil in cold adobo. Plus, I remembered I still need a name for this place. It's much like choosing a color to paint your new apartment with. Once again, I bump into a Title issue.

I need to get published. I want to be a writer. I want to be a short story writer. I don't write novels, or anything epic in length. I don't even write shorts stories that reach the word count for an average short story. I write short stories in it's truest and most sincere length: short.

And I realize my short stories are sedimentary rocks compared to the marble and limestone that is commonplace in the short story circuit. Even Bobbie Reyes, my age, my highschool batchmate, writes a short story-poem hybrid that's leagues better than my best. Not that I write hybrids, no. I mean my best anything.

Found this in the CD of my old files:

April 19th, 2006

It Has Been Whittled Down to a Few Seconds of Perfection

by Bobbie Reyes

i have dreamt this scene so many times that in my mind it has been whittled down to a few seconds of perfection, that when sunlight wakes my eyes with its gentle warmth, i seem not to move from dream to reality, but reality to dream. your presence in my dreams is as true as your absence from the air i breathe.

i know just where to kiss you. right there, where the stars fall to meet your upturned face. right there in the shadows of all the secrets that hover in the corner of each and every smile, in the hollows of your cheek as and in the parting of your lips to breathe. i will fill these empty spaces with a slow, exquisite burning that could transcend the neon and nuclear of galaxies.

i know just when to kiss you. right before the soft silence to which you open your eyes, when the world can not yet steal you away from the sheets blanketing our tangled legs--and then, right then, just before you sing. right before the tips of your fingers play into the rippling of my waist, and again right after your hands slide down my side to remember how to unzip my dress.

i know just how to kiss you. like the world will end if i hesitate, like the way the grass mourns the passing of the wind, like the way the wind mourns its intangible self. like how the breeze slights against the top floors of the buildings in makati and blows out the windows like candle flames.

i will kiss you
when i can light the dawn of
an inspired smile upon your lips,
so that when you kiss me
we can ignite tens of thousands
of cities,
and in a single breath,
short-circuit every lightbulb

because when you kiss me
there will be no need
for lightbulbs
ever again.

i will kiss you
soon
when i can cup my palms
around the back of your neck
and whisper in that curve
where your hair falls in wind-
blown waves upon your cheek
that i love you

(and in this dream you
tell me that
you love me
too)

i will kiss you for everyone who has ever known touch
and for those like me who have known kisses only in dreams

Her ears are obviously working, and mine even tingles in the course of reading the piece. Tingles and jingles and reggaes with the rhythm of her lines. Even the title works. Ah. Whatever. If I had that talent I wouldn't know what to do with it anyway. I hope Bobbie publishes a book of short story-poem hybrids like this one.

I need to stop fussing about the careers I don't have the innate talent to pursue, and get a life. A LIFE. Not 86% of it.

It hit me, just within the day, that before my saturation, I can only really spread myself so thin. I mean, I've tried spreading myself thinner last semester while accomodating everything, and I ended up accomodating just enough in my academics to pass. Now, it's the same way except it's not the academics that's getting the blow. Hay, and all I have is a very obscure sense of which is better.

I am eager to get to the end of this semester, when I will be relieved of some of my extra curricular responsibilities and maybe restructure my life more to my liking. No more biting off more than I can chew. Re-arrange my priority list. Get my life in order. Fix the creases. Untangle the knots.

Maybe I've had enough of life to download...Maybe i'm more in need of defragmenting...

For the record, this was completely unexpected. I loved my Spade. For years since I was in fifth grade Spade has been my online dwelling, and it held hundreds of my thoughts and ideas. But in the oddest of circumstances, my host, okashira.net, had expired just a few days ago, and with it all my saved archives. And it doesn't end there. My old blogger account, another place I can retrieve all my Spade babblings since its humble beginnings almost a decade ago, is suddenly inaccessible to me. This is probably due to that single time when I went online in Bohol and distractedly moved my account to Beta without remembering neither my username or password.

In other words, it's partly my own fault why I'm being forced to start anew with this blogspot, layout-less, title-less blog. Risk wise, being the risk averse person that I am, Blogspot is a whole lot more stable in terms of hosting services, and since for the last few years I've reduced my site into a single-page blog, Blogspot will be sufficient for my needs.

Maybe I do need a new blog anyways. It doesn't seem to be a very earth-shattering time in my life to find a change in blogs significantly valuable, and in a few years I'll probably forget when exactly did I make this big-ish change, as well as all the things I lost with the loss of Spade. But maybe it is time. Circumstances have made it so. Who knows?

Nothing has really changed anyways, from where I left off in Spade (for those of you who read if obediently). I'm still a UP junior, taking Economics. I'm still me. Except many pounds heavier from the vacation. But I will lose all this fat..Trust me on that.

This afternoon in Mercury drug I learned that my fat mass was 41 lbs. Tsk. Within the normal range, according to that health contraption, but still, tsk.

I had a wonderful time in Bohol. Great. Awesome. I can't say the same thing with my clothes though, they prolly didn't have much of a great time having to carry around a more filled out Vigile. I'm really surprised though, at how some people I'd think would take my weight gain so badly had accepted it at a drop of a hat, no questions asked. For someone so used to being ridiculed because of my weight, it seemed unnervingly pleasant that some people don't mind. I'm not talking about my dad though. He one of those who's taking it severely. He is very disappointed in me.

But yeah, I did have a blast in Bohol. There was food and seawater everywhere. Swim here swim there. So many people around my grandma's house this time, which happens only once in, what, three, four years? It was just great.

My parents have been talking about travelling to the United States this summer these past few days. Since my father's deaship will be over by the end of the academic year, and, conveniently, he has a convention to attend in Washington DC, they've been tinkering with the idea. We'll have no problem with lodgings there anyway, so many relatives, so many places to stay. (haha...assuming) there's just this little problem about the fare. We'll be draining our savings again. Then again, my parents are getting older, and they probably better be taking advantage of the last few decades of their youth to travel before it becomes too difficult for them.

I'm 49% excited about the idea and 51% reluctant. They plan to make me stay there for a month. Many things can happen in a month...

I'll worry about that when it comes. For now I'll be happy with the things that make me happy. I'll take advantage of the experiences I've been given the chance to experience while its here. I'll continue to work as best I can in my studies for my parents.

It sounds as though I'm dying. But if I lose a huge chunk of my life this summer, an equally big chunk of me will die. That's an 80% hack off my downloaded life.

I guess that means there's no summer classes for me.

Good morning world.