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More than two years ago Kuya and his friend picked me up from work a little past midnight. It was drizzling. The lightest, prettiest rain that could happen at a time like that. My memories of that night sat at the backseat are made of yellow light from the lampposts, water droplets on the car window, a 90s song on the radio, Kuya and his friend laughing about something Kuya said, the feeling of safety...I wanted to hold on to that night and feel that way forever. This fills me up with warmth and I'm so happy right now.
There would be days I would be so angry at someone but instead of letting it out I keep it in and that person can tell I'm seething so he/she will provoke me some more and if I don't bite he/she gets angry, too, so I get angrier then we shout words we can't take back and then our chests feel heavy and then we cry loudly and in an ugly way and a few minutes later it gets funny, as in, what just happened, we were like savages for a few minutes there what is anger for.
There is this: Wake up; a long, lonely, agonizing-do-not-talk-to-me time before coffee; happy time during coffee; nice time after coffee; shitty time craving for coffee again; a wonderful time during second coffee; an okay time after coffee; sad, sad time craving for a third cuppa; repeat for infinity -- a vicious cycle. A loop that both enlivens and kills. Today I am overreacting to everything because I might have had 20 cups of coffee and something else today. How many times have I mentioned the word "today" today? It's a nice word, yeah? I like today.
I had wanted a love story for this month. There's a couple bickering in my head. They're here in my brain, talking about mundane stuff. A few hours ago they were talking about heartbeat. See, the girl woke up with the boy's head on her chest. "What are you doing there?" she asked, and he was irritated by her I-just-woke-up-leave-me-alone tone, so he semi-shouted "I was listening to your heartbeat," "Why are you shouting," she said. "Don't shout at me!" he said. And then they laughed so hard on account of their absurdity.
I've begun coloring my nails again. In 2012, I kept buying different perky shades so that when I look at my hands I can have a reason to smile. That sounds so sad but it really isn't. Well, okay, not so much. 2013, 2014, and the early part of 2015 must have been good years in hindsight, or maybe they were also sad but I just didn't have the energy to cheer myself up anymore, so perhaps this is a good sign now that I'm making an effort again for anything, really. Orange is a happy shade you should try.
I discovered a game in my ancient phone and I've spent the first half of the day in bed trying to win at the Expert level. I just can't do it and to ease my frustration I've decided to eat almost 1/4 of a mango cake from last night's dinner, and I felt so bad while eating it, but finished it anyway. Hi, future love, I keep thinking of you barging in my room and telling me to pick myself up, that I need to live my life better. And I'd be just, hi, and continue eating the cake.
So, this couple in my head. Let's name them. How about Ben and Agnes. Or Ben and Greg. Or Lisa and Agnes. Whatever floats your boat. In my head they are boy and girl, sometimes they have no faces...just voices. And they are mostly looking at each other, talking in sign language then laughing so hard. Once, they did this at a coffee shop, Ben was at the till and he was signing something to Agnes, who was 10 feet away at a corner table. Then Agnes laughed at something Ben signed so people near her were bewildered. Bewildered.
Afternoons are gloomy and taunting. It's been raining at exactly 4 p.m. for a week now. She comes to the bakery at 3 p.m. every day, sits down at the same spot by the glass wall, and spends a couple of hours looking at the sky. This week it's been so gray and weepy, and she has to will herself to leave the safety of her thoughts to go out and deal with the wetness. She could easily head straight for the office and stay dry, but she wants to challenge predictability, believes she can stop the rain.
Her filter of the world looks like this: Hundreds of little shy suns shifting places on her window. Here it's always raining and it's always night, lampposts are constantly on. The government dedicates a sizable budget to finance countless bulbs. They have no memory of the sun except this: It made people look real. Here, somebody can hide in the dark all he wants and nobody will ask him to show himself. They have gotten used to lying and pretending it's the truth even if they know it isn't. Here, they are always driving and moving, always escaping to nowhere.
My mother smelled of Heno de Pravia. She washed her blouses using this same soap. This memory came to me on an overpass, and it made me miss our old house, built on this very same lot we're on. We lived in a spacious, old, and sturdy space on the second floor of my grandaunt's house. It used to mildly smell of cat piss. We had a large window in the main bedroom (which could fit three beds) looking over the first floor's roof. Kuya and I would throw crayons when the sun's out and watch them melt. Good times.
Dan Layus is awesome. For me, he's right up there with Dave Matthews. Love, love, love how he performs. So much heart. It's mesmerizing. Have I talked about rain enough? This month, so far, has been all about heavy rains in the afternoons, and it's beginning to get really sad. Somewhat comforting, too, to be honest. I often find myself craving for a bowl of soup or noodles, or my mother's sinigang. Outside my window now I see the neighbor's creeping plant with the heart-shaped leaves and today's just been...the sound of coming rain and good, good coffee.
Pixar movie formula:
joy joy Joy Joy JoY jOY JOY JOY JOY Joy JOY JOY JOY JOY!!! JOY!!! JOY!!! JOY!!!!! joy joy joyjoyjoy JOY!!! joy sadness saDness SadneSS sadness sadness SADness SADNESS SADNESS SADNESS SADNESS SADSADSADNESS SADNESS!!!!! SADNESS sad :( ness :( sadness :'( sadness sadness sadness sadness OMGSADNESS SOMUCHSADNESS SADNESS!!! HERE HAVE SOME SADNESS
SAAAAAAAAD NEEEEEESS SADNESSSSSSSSS SADNESS sadness sadness sadness sadness SAD SAD SAD SAD SAD SADNESS SADNESS SADNESS!!!
sad sad sad sad sad sad
SADNESS then JOY!!!!! then this warm fuzzy goddamn beautiful feeling of release MY GOD what a good movie.
I don't have time for a whole album nowadays, even a 4-minute song makes me fidget, thinking of what else I could be doing in those four minutes. I don't have time for a whole movie, or a series, even a 30-second video makes me fidget, thinking of what else I could be doing in those 30 seconds. In my distraction and haste I end up doing nothing significant, really. I'm here but I'm not here. I don't have time for the story of your life, even listening to what you ate makes me fidget, thinking of what...
We are short with each other, exploding prematurely, and saying things loudly, without a thought of how the other person might feel. We are horrible to each other, trusting that kindness and patience will prevail, that...even if you shout at someone and berate him...that person will just stand there and take all of it. But, what if that person takes out a gun and shoots you? You trusted that he will be kind so you were bad to him, he trusted that you will be kind but you were bad to him. Do you see now, what's happening?
It's strange. Lately I've been getting up way later than usual but it end up leaving the house earlier than usual. Stuff that took me 2.5 hours to do in the past, I can do in 30 minutes now, and I s havr time to spare. I'm positive it's not down to quicker movements, because I'm half-turtle, one-fourth snail. This has led me to conclude that time is expanding and that I can fit in maybe 10 more activities in the extra minutes I have. Months from now I'd have done everything on my bucket list. Hurrah.
I really should explore more music. Have you been listening to Betty Who? Discovered her via a friend in 2013, I think, and I still really like her now. What else, there's this cute song I heard on Jam 88.3 but I couldn't get proper lyrics so I couldn't Google it? So I tweeted the radio station to request for a playlist for the chunk of time I was tuned in? But no one answered? The next day Jen helped me pick out lyrics and now I know the song. Under the Rug by The View. End of. Fenks.
I like people's faces when they cough or sneeze. Do you know anyone who still looks good even when they cough, except for Harry Styles? No one, right? I exaggerate. Point is, when we're simply ourselves and not putting up a face, because it's always obvious, right? When someone is trying to be someone he's not? When we're simply ourselves, when we allow the ugly and unpolished sides of us to show, that's when we're most pretty. This is where my imaginary audience would boo and leave the auditorium. "What a cliche, pfffft." But they know it's the truth. Win.
It's Friday!!! It hasn't rained that much this past week. I'm kind of avoiding FB lately because it keeps notifying me of California memories three years ago. I can turn off the notifs but I don't want to. Dilemma!!! In Sin Fang's song there's a line: "If I go back to that place I know I'll see you but I don't want to even though I want to." This is my state of mind 89% of the time. I dreamt of an officemate who I have never interacted with, in the dream there was eye contact and it was horrifying.
Hi, I wish you were still here. I'm both happy and sad that you can't be here, and it's these myriad, factual, confusing reasons that I go back to whenever I miss you. They either comfort me or make the tears come. I look around at my loved ones who love me, too, who are still around and it makes me angry that you're not one of them, you're not in the room, and I can't run to you to say this corny joke I heard just now, or smell you or hug you, why haven't I hugged you enough?
Ben and Agnes are in bed, it's Sunday afternoon, they're both reading books. The TV is on. Ben is itching to turn it off but he knows this will annoy Agnes. She likes the background sound of the telly. But why not just use a radio, Ben would ask, the images and sound distract him. A radio would be better. Agnes would pout and agree to turn the telly off and so Ben would feel bad. Now it's raining and it adds to the distraction. Ben reaches for the remote tentatively. Agnes clears her throat. A warning. Ben storms off.
Writing prompts: Rainy night inside a car, someone's head on your shoulder; orange glow of a just-lit cigarette making you notice someone's cheek bones for the first time; a foggy, drizzly Baguio afternoon; cold coffee on your dining table, you take a sip you notice that it tastes like how your mother made coffee (too sweet, too creamy)--you haven't seen your mother in 10 years; how someone rolls up their sleeves; an old song that reminds you of a sticky afternoon at the zoo, when the giraffe was still alive; and oh, that elephant that peed for forever.
Don't trust people who stifle their smile, my grandmother used to say. Yesterday I was confronted with a video of myself from the past. In it I was talking about an upcoming exam that I haven't studied for. I was complaining about the lack of sleep and abundance of food, which was making me more sleepy. In the background, my grandmother's voice: "If only you had the wisdom to know the things you should stop doing instead of keeping on wanting to start different things at the same time, for instance, stop eating unnecessarily." Stop eating unnecessarily. Words of wisdom.
Her beau works for various fast food chains as their mascot guy. It's a sideline. His day job is at the bank, a manager. She often comes with him at his mascot gigs. She likes watching "him" dance to a silly song. She likes looking at the creepy mascot face, frozen in a wide-eyed smile, knowing that inside is a boy whose variety of smiles only she has the privilege to witness. She likes watching "him" have fun with kids and adults alike, in an over-sized suit that later on he will take off and feel sad about.
There's too much coffee and potato chips I feel like I have to consume them all. I kid. I do consume much more than a normal person would, to be honest. It's like a sickness and sometimes I want to be cured but more often I just want to be left alone, as in, let me die in a coffee-potato chip stupor this way I'll die happy and sated, and maybe too awake and too salty, and isn't that the point of life? To be too awake? Not to be too salty though. Point is, Ruffles Cheddar & Sour Cream.
I've recently devised ways to make the difficult parts of my life much easier. At work, at home, during transit, there are stuff that I almost do not notice make life a bit tricky, and there are indeed ways to lighten the load. Okay, I lost my train of thought because I got sidetracked by this Metric song so I'll just put the lyrics here: With eternal love, the stars above, all there is and ever was, I want it all. A blade of grass, a grain of sand, the moonlit sea, to hold your hand, I want it all.
Have you heard Ryan Adams' cover of Taylor Swift's 1989? Check it out, please. Anyway, today was wow. It was one of those days when MRT breaking down is up there on your list of "Things I wish would not happen today." But it did, it happened, so I had to use the long-cut to go to this thing that I have been looking forward to all week, this thing that I couldn't get to on time because MRT was not functioning. Oh, it also rained hard. And I got hungry in traffic. All's well now though. Bright side.
Ben and Agnes aren't bickering today. At this moment, they are sitting near a tall window by the seaside, eating brunch. Agnes is having milk while Ben is nursing an early beer. They're giddy about dipping in the warm water a few hours after eating, just like what they did the past three days. They've been waking up more in love with each other, lately Agnes has been finding herself thanking the universe for giving her Ben. For what specific reason, she couldn't quite point at, just that a smile keeps on happening whenever he holds her hand, these days.
He likes that black peacoat, and I like him in it. When it's foggy out, my fondest hope is that I'll run into him at the coffee shop. He'd have the peacoat on, he'd see me and wave, then run his right hand through his hair, then shove it in his pocket as if that action could save him from some sort of threat. He'd ask if he could walk me to work and I'd just be smiling the whole time, him in that peacoat with his hand warm in his pocket, the other hand clutching his coffee. Good times.
We are terrified of our own kindness. Even if it's the most obvious choice, we still resort to pride because we feel safer with it. Safe from what, though? And do we think about the danger we're getting into, by avoiding kindness? I have so far spent the week trying to be stoic but ending up a ball of mush and crumpled emotions. Sometimes patience is tiring, and anger becomes this sultry, irresistible thing, which if you succumb to just makes you feel worse afterwards, or not. Whatever. I like thr quiet though. I just keep wishing for good vibes.
I don't think I've mentioned One Direction this month, so here it is, a mention. My favorite boys. Anyway, I love that Spotify saves the music queue even if the computer crashes or something. I had to restart and was pissed about losing my meticulously curated queue (feat. The new 1D song of course - Infinity) but lo, queue's still there! I've been walking around with furrowed brows and a pout, and people I usually like, I don't like right now. Note to self: Let's make an effort to be nice especially if it's the most unlikely moment to be nice.
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