You have not known what you are.
You have slumbered upon yourself all your life.
Your eyes have been as much as closed most of the time.
What you have done is already in mockeries.

The mockeries are not you.
Underneath them
And within them,
I see you lurk...

-Walt Whitman


a new chapter of new horizons

HAVE YOU EVER BEEN BUGGED BY AN URGE TO THINK but ended up not thinking at all? that happens to me a lot. the desire to think is there but the thoughts just either decided not to come or they conspired to enter your mind all at the same time. there’s no point in thinking if there’s nothing to ponder about or there’s too much to think about that your brain couldn’t process them all. well, that’s not unusual for someone like me; someone with a disorganized mind. but since my mind seems to find itself a clearing in my fangorn forest of a brain at this moment, i guess i’ll just take advantage of it.

as the new year begins i figured it’s the perfect time to reflect on what last year was all about. don’t worry it’s not a year-end report (i don’t watch much of local tv), just the highlights and the implications of last year to me. i am just glad it’s all over.

last year was the toughest year of my life in this planet inhabited by earthlings and aliens alike. i should know because that was the year when i realized that my tear ducts could hold a chronic and continuous torrent of tears (not to mention those that flow through my nose). my heart got broken for the first time. i thought i was going nuts picking up the pieces. i felt like no one could understand the painful ordeal that even i couldn’t fully understand. i was socially dormant. i was afraid to embrace the pain. that, i think, was the main reason why depression was able to swallow me whole. long-term therapy was required but along the way i became so vulnerable and eventually got lost. i had nothing to lead me back to a solid ground. i was just there, floating, dead in the sea.

it didn’t take long before i fell in love with a rebound; or rather my head told me i was in love to spare me from the crushing pain my heart was causing me. i became so emotionally unstable, ready to self-destruct at any time like a time bomb. i couldn’t understand my emotions anymore. whenever i get romantically involved with someone, i go back to the conclusion that i might be in love. i guess when there’s a void in your heart that needs to be filled, the void usually becomes a black hole, sucking misery, and loneliness, and imitations of love. they enter your heart, corrupt your mind, and torture your spirit. there came to a point when i thought i was becoming an evil person; a monster. i remembered the argument whether man is innately evil or good. but i guess this is not the question that matters. a man is not purely bad or good. it is our choices that define us as persons. it is the side that we choose to nurture that becomes our identity.

it’s a good feeling to realize all these things after what had happened. indeed, when you grew empty of the ugly emotions, moved on, and drew the line of your sanctuary from hate and bitterness, you became much aware of what you were and are feeling. you learn and you grow. answers are just lurking underneath the broken pieces. we’re just preoccupied of averting our eyes to the ugly reality in front of us.

as the new year begins, new year’s resolutions becomes pretty popular. why not? a new year is usually co-notated to a new start. a lot of people wanted to change and have a clean slate but some are just faint-hearted to want change. i don’t believe in such resolutions but i do believe in the will of the heart, the power of the mind, and the strength of the spirit. with all these, coveted change is almost incontrovertible.

life is full of suffering; however, we still live in a ‘half-half’ world, according to my friend and a philosophy professor back in college. there were tears but there were still smiles and laughs. last year was the end of my academic life but the start of another course of intensive learning. we learn to live but more importantly we live to learn. i graduated from college with flying colors and passed the licensure examinations and became a registered nurse. then just recently i became a certified iv therapist, a trained basic life support practitioner, and a member of the philippine national red cross. five months ago i became a citizen of this blogging world which i love so much because i was able to connect and learn with people even those to the other side of the globe. so much had happened and yet there’s so much to come and to do. this is just a grain of sand of the mountain i want to climb. there’s so much to learn and loads to write about.

life goes on and i’ll continue to live and deconstruct life and love and anything between them. i am so psyched what the new horizon i am looking at has for me…


there and back again

MY FEET ONCE AGAIN STAND on this patch of reality called blogging. i have been hibernating for awhile now and loads had happened over the four weeks of my temporary blog leave. it was such an adventure and it kills me that i was not able to write all of my memoirs for every experience that had transpired. time really flies when you’re busy and as much as i have wanted to update my blog, i just couldn’t squeeze the time to write and find the energy to read blogs i use to visit. but as i have anticipated, i am thrilled to be back.

perhaps many of you were wondering why i have decided to leave so suddenly. i really enjoyed blogging probably far more than you could expect. aside from gaining friends and being able to tap on my passion for writing, i was able to express my thoughts and my deepest emotions the way i wanted them to be expressed. i was raving about it. talking about my friends of the things i have learned from you and sharing them your stories. it was such a thrill and in someway, very addictive. but like all drugs, i never expected blogging could also have some side effects.

when i grew intimate with blogging, i was in a sort of social dormancy. i was cut off from the real world and decided to linger in this virtual sphere. my friends were getting furious because i wasn’t returning any of their calls nor replied to their text messages (most of the time placing the blame on my cheap cellphone and my room’s poor network service reception). my mentality was that technology could no longer bridge distances between people even to those close to your heart. one primary reason why i ‘hid’ myself from them was that people were always asking the same questions and i was always giving the same answers in return. my life was becoming a loophole of boredom and monotony and i took refuge to this virtual reality that i couldn’t seem to leave.

an acquaintance here once called me a psychoblogger— in his definition, as someone who has a compulsion to write. he was a bitter person that had just suffered a traumatic experience in a chatroom (which i never dared to enter). my first reaction was to wince because i found it very offensive. but thinking about it now, i think it hurts because what he said was true. i was a compulsive writer and blogging pulled me back from where i should be. it became a distraction. i remembered divulging this realization to my bestfriend and implied that i should’ve realized this ages ago. i have realized that i am not good in balancing things in my life (i have a poor sense of balance. no wonder i never learned how to ride a bicycle).

that is when i decided to step back, took time to clear my head, regain the bonds of friendship, set my priorities and grow. one month could be a short span of time to measure one’s growth and to make you a mature person but in a way it has given me a new perspective of how my life should be going. but now i decided to come back, with a clearer head (i hope) but still with a twisted mind. my fingertips missed playing with the keyboard i can tell.

i wish everyone a happy new year. let’s brace ourselves to a new start of our lives.


signing off

THINK IT'S ABOUT TIME TO REST THE FINGERS that forged too many words, but most importantly, to free my mind just for a little while. i am sorry guys if i wasn't able to reply to your comments nor drop by and read from you. i promise i'll make it up to you when i get back (i don't know when...yet).

i am going to miss writing but i'll miss reading from you more. this blog have lived up to it's purpose. i have learned so much from you. thanks for sharing with me pieces of yourselves and for taking time to read my ridiculously long posts. my four months of being a blogger has been a blast because of you.

i'll be celebrating my 22nd birthday this coming december 1st. i think it's time for me to grow up. i wish i know how.

happy holidays !(in case I won't be around when christmas comes)

but no goodbyes. not just yet.


life in shading boxes

HALEY, TOGETHER WITH OTHER GAZILLION NURSE ASPIRANTS will be taking the national licensure examinations this coming weekend. i know exactly what they’re feeling right now. i remembered taking the boards five months ago (time is running freaking fast!). it was a very grueling and pressure-filled experience. i am just thankful that i was able to pass them, unscathed and with sanity intact…or so i thought.

when i was about to take the boards, it was not the examination day that was tough, it was the anticipation. i am a worrier. a lot of negative things gets inside my head that i sometimes think i have an anxiety disorder of some sort. but i couldn’t help but feel anxious. i was just not prepared when i took the examinations that could dictate the fate of my professional career.

it was barely three months before the day of the examinations when i experienced my first heartache caused by a very bad break-up from my very first serious and very dysfunctional relationship. i mean what kind of person would commit into a relationship and then suddenly disappear without showing a face? gosh. i sound so bitter. hehe! but anyway, i was broken and those days were the darkest times of my life. i just lost it; the concentration and my focus, especially when the examinations were looming closer. i kept asking why now? why did it have to happen at this crucial moment? it could’ve happened after the exams, right?

my head was all over the place. i attended review sessions to force medical stuff into my dried sponge of a brain and went home after, not to study, but to drown myself into the imaginary lives of people in tv series instead. the building pressure and the crushing pain my heart was putting me through drove me to the edge. i don’t want to use the term suicidal but something close to it described what i was feeling. it was tough and i used the lamest ego defense mechanisms known to psychology to cope with my struggle. but i had to bring myself back into consciousness and pick the pieces up. i thought i was too late.

it’s a full whole week before the examinations when i finally stood my ground and decided to leave my house and join a group study at a friend’s dormitory. i couldn’t study in my room. my pale pink room held memories that could easily pull me into melancholy, driving me mad. it’s true that the good memories are the ones that dig deep and become hurts. i did the right decision to be in a new environment to study and had friends around me to share my struggles with. for the first time i saw a clearing in my twisted thinking. i successfully bombarded my brain with the essentials i needed to learn and review. i only had 2 hours to sleep everyday. it was a race against time but somehow, the quantity of information didn’t mattered. it was the drive. and i held on to it as long as i can and as much as my heart wanted to crumble from inside me.

then the day of examination came. i took the test as doubts hovered over me and the hypnotic heat of the examination room forced my mind to give up and just sleep. after two days of answering multiple choice questions and shading boxes (at times bite my pencil in the hope of coming up with the correct answers), and long hours of dueling with my mind, my heart, my self; after months of waiting, i finally stood triumphant. i passed the test.

passing that test meant a lot to me. it somehow meant that i have proven myself of something. i thought and felt that i was being a mediocre, and yet i passed. my heart was breaking the whole time and yet i was able to hold my head held high. i am strong. our mind would sometimes tell us that we are weak but it’s all in our heads. life is a series of tests. everyday, is a battle, and the mind is the battlefield.

hales, if you’re reading this, i hope this may inspire you in a way. like i said, it’s okay to feel laxed, (or be disarrayed in my case). brilliant minds don’t need much bombardment! haha! you just need to give your best shot and be sure to sharpen your pencils well. hehe! you’re one of the smartest people i know. there’s no way you could fail the exam! (i’m no longer hearing a lot of this anymore which makes me strangely happy. hehe!). i’ll pray for you.

guys! let’s give hales (and all those who will take the boards) a shoutout, shall we? go, hales! nail it! and top it! :) i’ll be waiting for your treat after your exams, especially with my birthday coming up. hehe! a movie treat (i am thinking of ‘twilight’) would be highly appreciated as well. haha!

peace out!



I WISH YOU WERE BLIND, so that you will not be able to see the scars and the imperfections of this face, or this skin i’m wearing. how i wish you see nothing but black, dark enough for you to see my light. sometimes, when you look at me with those brown eyes, i just want to stick my fingers into them, so that you’ll lose your sight of this world, and see my heart instead. that is all i want. you have the perfect vision and yet you refuse to see.

i sometimes wonder what if i am blind. what if colors just decided to hide from me like the way you hide your heart? would mine still beat for you even if i won’t be able to have a glimpse of your beautiful face? i guess it would still, for whenever i close my eyes at night, i could still see you: a blinding image in absolute darkness that calms the storm, raging from within me; a balm for my weary soul; a beacon that leads me to the light, and yet i have never felt so lost in my life.

could you please just gouge your eyes out for me? i just want you to see me like how i see you right now. let darkness swallow my face, my whole body, me. and from nothing just try to paint an image of me by remembering how i hold your hand, or how my voice sounds like when i call your name; just remember how i used to write your name on the sand and try to listen with these words i am softly whispering in your ears. do you hear me? don’t tell me you’re deaf. try to open your heart so that you will able to see; so that you will be able to hear. just let it open and hear me knock. i am on your doorstep and i am saying i love you.

you now walk on flowers. i walk on weeds, slicing me. i am all wrong for you and i know it. i just wish my heart knows and believes that truth too because it’s tricking my mind into thinking things to spare me from an incredulous pain and ordeal. i would rather embrace the pain. somehow bitterness is the only way to get rid of the agony; the only way to learn how to let go. i must sleep with this pain or else it will not leave my bed. but in the back of my thoughts, you’re the only one i want to share my bed with tonight.

some say that life is like a series of images passing by at blinding speeds. life is fast and short. but there are moments in life when a moment hovers and stand frozen in time. it’s like a miracle, and when it happens, make sure not to miss it. perhaps one of these days, this event will come your way. my fingers are crossed that when it happens, it will be my image you will see among others, floating in space, flashing you with a smile. i’d want you to pick and keep me in your pocket and i’ll keep singing the songs you love so much.

i am here in front of you right now, naked against your skin. i am hugging you, so tight because i’d never want to let go. as you lay against my chest, can you see me? can you hear me? just try to lose your sight and keep the vision. let the darkness swallow me and nothingness break me. and then make and mold me once again. i am the one for you and you know it. i am knocking desperately now, begging, banging on your door.

as you lay against my chest, can you feel that? that is the void where my heart used to be.

but can you hear this? this love i give you under my breath…


shuttlecocks and balls

WAS WATCHING THE V-LEAGUE yesterday and i realized how much i miss playing my sports. i miss almost everything about it (except being in the loser’s end): the adrenaline rush, the sweat, the pressure, the trash-talking, and of course, the joys of ending triumphant in a competition. besides, my muscles need some toning and i got to lose the burgeoning fat, particu
larly in the middle.

i consider myself as a sport-minded person even though i don’t play a lot of contact sports like basketball. when i was young i used to be skeleton-thin (literally! i’ll show you some of my horrible photos one of these days) and could easily tire. i was just a little bit too soft for basketball that’s why i chose to play another sport, volleyball.

there are a lot of stereotypes with guys who play volleyball, but who cares? it’s a really fun and a competitive sport and i believe, less tiring than basketball. besides, there’s nothing that can beat the elation from hitting someone’s face with a ball (absolutely not if you’re on the defensive side! haha! i got hit by perfectly executed kills straight to my face three times already). it’s really fun to kick ass when a net and couple of paces separates you from your competitors.

i started playing the sport when i was in elementary school and eventually became a member of our varsity team (reyn was my captain ball. he’s the first one who taught me how volleyball tastes like). then, there was this sporting event and it turned out that i was over aged to qualify. my coach solved the problem by making me pretend to be someone else. he borrowed someone else’s birth certificate and voila! for a day, i became emmanuel. hehe! i was such an asset my coach couldn’t afford to have me disqualified! haha! when i started attending high school, i decided not to join the varsity since academics was my main priority at that time. instead i get to play during the intramural games. i play setter. i was a show-off when i played especially when i knew my crush was watching and cheering for me. it gave me that extra motivation to rip the ball down, hard on the opponent’s court.

it was also in high school when i discovered that i have some skills in playing badminton. i don’t know if it’s true but they say when you’re good in volleyball, you’re probably good in badminton. but, between the two sports, i am more passionate about the latter. i became a varsity and played doubles (the program sucked by the way. i could recall how rushed our trainings were. no wonder we ended up being losers). i just love the crispy sound of a brand-new shuttlecock against the racket. the sound matters because it tells you whether you hit the shuttle correctly or not. i used to play the sport with my college friends, some where volleyball players too. we would rent a court and play all day, till our bodies give out. there was this one time when i smashed a shuttle so hard and accidentally hit my opponent right in the balls! haha! it was so funny because he got mad! speaking of sportsmanship! hehe! how i wish i can play one of these days. the problem is i have no one to play it with. if i become desperate i’ll just play against a wall…like squash?

one of the sports that i love to watch and want to learn is tennis. there is somehow elegance, grace, and prestige in the game. i was so hooked about it i even finished the tournament of ‘virtua tennis’ in my psp (using roger federer, my favorite player) in just one sitting. my thumbs were screaming in agony the next day that i even found it hard to press the remote. hehe! i miss playing table tennis too. a friend taught me one time and since then, i got hooked!

so that’s it for now i guess. i just thought i’d write something far from emo this time…:P
How about you? What's your sports?

. .

off the record, please bear with me and watch the clip. hehe! (you might want to turn off the music on my sidebar first :))

i have a hunch that the ‘prince’ would surpass its predecessor. there were some stunning scenes, upon watching this trailer and scrutinizing each frame. some of these are the fiery cave scene, harry and dumbledore on the ‘outcrop of rock’ and the quidditch sequences of course! i’m glad they have decided to include it in the storyline and also ron who accidentally ate a cake with a love potion and fell in love (not with hermione though! haha!) i think the opening sequences will be about the destruction caused by the death eaters all over britain (the falling bridge and the black smokes gave it away). harry will have another kissing scene with ginny. big deal! i think i am a better kisser than harry anyway. haha! thanks to alex for the video. peace out!


of masks and bus rides

I LIKE TO TRAVEL, but for someone who wants to explore the world and wander to the both ends of it, i fear being lost the most. every time i end up to an unfamiliar place, anxiety wells up from inside that corrupts my mind, feeding the fear that embraces me. i know i can ask for directions but somehow i feel hesitant, probably because i am used to be the one who usually give the answers---answers to questions about the pathophysiology of a certain disease entity or on dilemmas of life, of love, and so on. people treated me to be the know-it-all and somehow i embraced the role and agreed to wear the mask they had made for me. i had realized that the more it lingered on my face, the harder it gets to wear it off.

i became an actor of some sort; a great one. as i played the main role, i became the leader material, the straight-a student, the artist. it felt great at first. i was stereotyped and the prejudice was very hard to break. people were looking up to me like a person who can do virtually anything; as if i was invincible, conveniently ignoring the fact that i was supposed to bleed somewhere. i am no superman and yet the red-caped hero has kryptonite as his weakness.

i continued my act on the stage and realized that the disguise was somehow liberating. there was a kind of freedom where i could do anything with the character i chose to play. i was able to make an image of myself i thought was better than the real me. i had no idea that i was doing the same for others. It turned out i was not able to see people for who they really are but for what i wanted them to be instead. i was being corrupted. i tried to humble myself by appearing humble, but deep inside i knew that my head was floating up in space.

but like all plays and tragedies, the show was bound to end. the transition was not easy. the mask weighed on me, eager to pull my face to the ground. suddenly, i wanted people to know me for who i really was and not as the image seared in their heads. as the feeling of greatness left me, i became very vulnerable. i was weak and scared. i didn’t know what’s scarier: the ugly person i was becoming or the face behind the mask. the confusion spiraled to mediocrity till i completely lost control, and yet the label across my chest still burned. i was pressured. i suddenly found my self living up to what people expects of me. but when i did, the promise of happiness was nowhere to be found. i had learned that fake people are sad people.

i love to travel and still try not to get lost. whenever i ride a bus, i would look out and watch as places and people pass by. it was like watching a series of images; a blur of colors and lights. whenever the bus halts, i tend to closely observe people outside. in someway it felt like watching a series of frames from a movie happening in real life and in real time, from a front-row seat. as alternative music played on my ears, i am curious to find that most people look weary. i could tell through their eyes. they are like walking zombies, but more importantly, they look lost. empty. i always wonder if their faces mirror mine and if someone out there wears the mask i once wore. but one thing’s for sure: there are a lot of impostors out there and i was one of them. maybe i still am… riding on this bus towards an unknown destination, uncertain if i’d ride it to the end.




that hugs you tight so you can breathe;

the hand the holds yours and yet can let go.

i am the heart of the rose that you love so much;

the sun that casts away the rain of your gray skies.

i am the smile when tears wash away your face;

the citadel that keeps you safe from savages of this rotten world.

i am the ground beneath your cold feet

the home that kindles your weary soul

i am the candlelight of your darkest night

the song that wakes you when the dawn calls

i am the water that bathes you with love

the meaning of the lyrics of your song.

i am the existence that you have forged

the color of your art that lasts forevermore

i am the cigarette smoke that you breathe

the same smoke you spit out that cools your spirit.

i am the story that you make

the notebook of your memories forever kept

i am the soul, which from you, will not part

but just not the one who holds your heart.

. . .

what if one day, i’ll wake up and realize that my heart is no longer mine but yours?
should i wear my red cape, fly and chase your comet? or

i’ll just bury myself fifty feet under the ground beneath you,
drink the kryptonite you brewed,
and stay?

What will that make me?


a bed-time story

THERE ARE TIMES WHEN HE LIES ON HIS BED at night and something happens. he doesn’t know exactly how to describe it but they are experiences that make him somehow escape. it is when he just stays there in the cramped space of his room; eyes open, watching as time walk pass him. he lets the darkness lick his skin as the cold evening air seizes his soul. he stands on the edge of reality; living between a dream and the world that corrupts his spirit. living in the middle is a relief. he can’t live in a dream and he’s terrified to live his life in this sick world. middle is a place better than anywhere else.

he was there again; on his back, ignoring the dust that littered his bed. thoughts flooded him like a gargantuan cascading river. powerful, petrifying, but nonetheless, beautiful. he embraced each thought as his eyes remained open; looking straight to the ceiling he could not see. as each thought touched his mind, he wanted to get lost in it hoping that he would find meaning. an absolution.

the mind is powerful. he knows this, because everytime he finds himself in the world his mind creates; he can make every thought real. he can even make feelings tangible and dreams turn into cotton candies he can eat. he was hurting and he tried to lie to himself by holding back the tears that burned his eyes. the pain and agony was so real that he was able to hold it in his hand; dark. hard. cold against his palm. he wanted to crush it with his fingers but he knew that what he held in his hands were his dreams too. pulverizing the pain meant breaking his heart. his name was synonymous with confusion and loneliness.

time kept crawling as his thoughts walked on icy water. suddenly, he was on the middle of a frozen lake. there was nothing before him but a vast expanse of endless white and snow. he could hear the swishing sounds of pine trees somewhere, the cold wind whispering. he felt cold but the feeling was welcoming somehow. he then sensed something building up from within him. sounds. music. a song. he closed his eyes and listened. it was a happy song. and then, the song became words. he saw them coming from his mouth. and then the words became him. he danced. he moved his body as graceful as van gogh’s strokes were on a canvas. smooth and flawless. he danced as free as the air and the dust and snow that came along with it. every step he took was a color and every movement of his limbs was a brush stroke; his feet pounding on the delicate ice beneath him. he danced with eyes closed and painted the white world around him into masterpiece with blinding colors. for a moment, he was an art and around him was the world he wanted to live in.

the colors dissolved. he was back there again, in the cold darkness of his room. the sounds were gone. the colorful world was now replaced by pitch blackness intimately kissing his entire body. the only light he could see was from the moon that barely broke the clouds. the sight gave him hope though. with a smile, he closed his eyes, emptied his mind and fell into a deep slumber. the pain no longer in his hands but the dreams still remained, blanketing him with warmth as words trickled down from his eyes that spelled a name he doesn’t know anymore...


measuring love

WONDER IF THERE’S A WAY TO MEASURE LOVE. there has to be right? a love scale of some sort. of all human emotions love is the most celebrated one or otherwise. and to be able to measure such amazing and abstract entity would be truly ground-breaking. if love could be measured it would make neil armstrong’s stroll on the moon look like discovering how stupid it is to pick your nose and eat anything that sticks to your finger.

is love really measurable? i wonder if it could be measured by the width of one’s smile. perhaps by the number of love letters one could receive in a week? the number of grand gestures one makes? by the number of roses in a bouquet or by the size of chocolates? the number of times one thinks of someone in a day? could it be measured by the number of kisses or hugs or love makings? could it be measured by the length of time butterflies could keep fluttering in one’s stomach? is it by counting the total number of i love you’s said or sweet nothings sent via sms? could love be measured by measuring happiness? how i wish there’s a way to measure happiness too.

however, love is not all about sunshine and butterflies, is it? i wonder if love could be measured by the number of glasses one could fill with tears in a day. could it be measured by how loud a person cries or by how ugly a grimace looks on one’s face? is it by the number of tissue papers stained with rhinorrhea or number of tear marks on a pillow? could it be measured by the number of diversional activities or failed attempts to smile? could love be really be measured by measuring sadness, and pain, and suffering or by the length of time one succumbs himself to darkness due to a broken heart? i have learned that love is the most difficult thing to measure because it doesn’t exist in itself. it encompasses almost everything.

a friend once pondered about the duality of pain and pleasure; that there’s a possibility that one could not exist with its opposite, just like one of newton’s law of motion says. i am not even sure that pain and pleasure are opposites. however, i wish the law could be applied to complex human emotions too such as love, happiness, and sadness. but the law is found proven and applicable only when dealing with physical entities: to concrete and tangible things that occupy space and have mass--matter. but emotions like love aren’t. love is an abstract in its purest form. there’s no way newton could’ve measured it, but if he did, i’ll bet my harry potter books that he was the happiest person in the world in his time. i wish he knew how and made a law about it instead. who would have thought that a mathematical equation could shed some light to one of the famous questions generated by the human mind?

somehow, love is equated to happiness and pleasure. but some equates love in terms of sadness and pain. following the basic laws of algebra, could love be equated with both happiness and sadness at the same time? but the more curious question is could happiness and sadness exist together? could it be possible to be completely happy and completely sad at the same time? i guess not. like a friend had said, it’s a cycle. love is neither in black nor white and anyone who sees the world in this perspective has intelligence comparable to that of a dog.

is love really measurable? many people ask this question. these are those who frequently ask their partners the question, “how much do you love me?” people like to ask questions starting with ‘how much’ especially when dealing with the concept of love and yet they forget to ask the more basic yet the most significant question their lips can utter. love is not a question of how much but a question of how true. i am not sure if love could be measured by asking how much, but i am sure that if a love is true, there’s definitely no means to measure its immensity. people who try to measure the immensity of true love fail to have the answer but those who deny that such magnitude exists and are scared of it, are the ones who usually play around, no idea that they’re already lost...

. . .

i am no love expert. just a hopeless romantic single. crap.



WOKE UP ONE MORNING, the idea fixed in my head. i just knew i had to do it or else nothing would make the anxiety i was feeling to dissipate. i remembered opening eyes, walked like a zombie, taught our baby parrot how to caw, and consulted andrew and jing about it for the last time. as expected, i got the answer i was dreading for more than a week. but i didn’t care anymore. i knew i had to make a choice. and i did.

i walked outside, bathed in the morning sunlight as question marks and doubts sang together with the birds in my head. after walking five blocks, i went inside a barbershop, mouth dry. i consulted the barber first and heard the most beautiful words. after heaving my deepest morning breath, it soon started. it only took 30 minutes. with sweating hands and my pumping hard on my throat and the lulling sounds of a hair razor on my ear, i finally solved one of my life’s greatest dilemmas.

i was transformed from this…

barely a month ago, my friends advised me to do something about my ‘wolverine hair’. my hair was a disaster. my hairlines were receding and thinning. i admit i used to apply a lot of hair gels on my hair when i was still at school and i like wearing caps. eventually, it had turned into a very serious problem. i can’t leave the house without wearing a cap because hair became virtually impossible to maintain. it looked dead and wiry. it made me looked very old too. haley (the mastermind), anna, and tracey managed to convince me to buzz cut my hair (semikal) in the hopes that i would look sexy (?!).

after meeting with hales and company, i went home and consulted my parents and brothers about my plan. surprisingly, they were so against it that i soon regret the idea divulging it to them. i told my plan to some friends and their reactions were all the same! marvie even texted me one night: ron, ano namang pinaggagawa mo sa sarili mo? may problema ka ba? they were just so used to my ‘genius-good-boy-look-sort-of-look’, i guess. but their arguments made sense. the haircut could make or break me. if it didn’t work out for me cutting my head off would be the best alternative.

if your problem is your hair, get rid of it. i feel great about it now. i am not sure if it looked good on me due to mix reactions (some say it does look good on me but others say it made me look like a con man), but it was way better than having my hair before. my head feels lighter, i can think clearer (?), and the best part is i have no hair to bother me anymore. no hair to maintain. and i feel more confident in a way. haha!

i was invited to attend a halloween party at anna’s place. it was the first halloween party i’ve ever attended. i wasn’t able to come up with a costume so just i insisted and tried to convince the party that i was supposed to be wentworth miller of prison break! haha! before the night ended, people were calling me by just my nickname---went. hahaha!

this photo of me was taken at the halloween party! nyaha!

perhaps, you’re right, hales. i look sexy. hahaha!


the path of light is laid...

I FINISHED REREADING DAN BROWN’S ANGELS AND DEMONS, yet again, yesterday afternoon and it was still a great read. it was like watching your favorite movie in your head. hehe! then, i went to the computer shop to check up on my site and do some net surfing. i decided to visit you tube and stumbled upon this:

i had chills while watching it! the concept of a half-angel-half-demon sculpture was a brilliant idea. there’s a frame in the clip where you can see a man (probably max kohler) being taunted by a red-hot brand. the brand was in a form of overlapping skeleton keys forming a cross. that can’t be good, can it? if my hunch is correct, the writers edited out the myth of the illuminati diamond. hays. I hope hans zimmer did the musical scoring. I love how he was able to come up with the stained glass-cathedral effect using a full orchestra and a chorus. bravo! The track used in this clip (chevaliers de sangreal) was ringing in my head while writing this post. hehe! 2009 will be jam-packed with block buster movies. angels and demons and harry potter and the half-blood prince are definitely my most anticipated movies for next year. ironically, time crawls when you want it to fly.

tom hanks will be playing the symbologist robert langdon again in angels and demons. i am disappointed at first when he played the role in the da vinci code but somehow he exuded some geekiness that helped him play the role. i think monica belluci (mary magdalene, the passion of christ) was perfect for the character of the french physicist vittoria vetra and somehow the actress who won the role resembles her. i am surprised to know that ewan mcgreggor will play the role of carlo ventresca but i’m not complaining. he’s a brilliant actor but i think jim caviezel (the passion of christ) would’ve made a good antagonist. i was thinking of the actor who played professor xavier to take the role of the director-general of CERN, maximillian kohler. it’s because of the wheelchairs, obviously! hehe!

angels and demons is one of my favorite novels probably because of my fascination towards conspiracies, ancient artifacts, and artworks. I was so hooked I even managed to make an ambigram of my name. I made haley’s one too. to have a stroll inside the vatican secret archives would be really cool! i promise myself that i will someday journey to rome, follow the path of illumination, visit the altars of science, see the markers, and drink a mug of coffee inside the illuminati lair beholding the beauty of tiber and st. peter’s basilica. hahaha! how cool would that be?! i am most curious to see the ecstasy of st. teresa. i want to see the toe-curling orgasm. hehe!

the book was very informative especially the scientific truths. for the first time, i have grown some interest with particle physics and drawn to discussions regarding CERN and its controversial particle accelerator, the large hadron collider. but i also find it very spiritual. it talks of faith, religion, and morality. i am familiar with the clash of science and religion but i didn’t know it’s that diverse, complicated, and surprisingly well-connected. the facts brown laid on the table are very trivial and controversial. i have also come to know some dark secrets lurking within the walls of the vatican and the roman catholic faith. i still wonder what the third prophecy of fatima contains. it was said that the first two came true and the third was so terrible the church never dared to reveal it? hmmm…

speaking of spirituality, a threesome of mormons came knocking to our door while writing this post. they wanted to do what they call ‘reaching out.’ i was hesitant and felt a little awkward at first. i am an evangelical christian, but i was able to convince myself that it would be better to keep an open mind. besides, i’m curious to know the nature of their faith and how their faith differs from other religion that i am familiar with. i welcomed them in and eventually they talked about family, prophets, and jesus, and somehow i couldn’t find any difference between my faith and their faith so far. i guess a single faith couldn’t be dismantled within just one sitting. they promised they’d be back this weekend. i am not sure if i want to see them again though… hmmm…

anyway, angels and demons is due may 13, 2009, here in the Philippines. For global release dates and updates, feel free to visit

peace out!


another tease from the 'prince'

I AM STILL DISAPPOINTED and a little frustrated towards warner brothers’ decision not to premiere harry potter and the half-blood prince until july next year. this was supposed to be my most anticipated movie of 2008. watching it on IMAX 3D would’ve definitely beaten the exhilaration of passing my licensure examinations. harry potter fanatic talking… hehe!

since i can’t do anything about it, i just keep my self updated with the latest potter news while waiting, along with wizards, witches and muggles who knows the lightning-scarred boy busy playing with his stick. i visited mugglenet and found out that a new international teaser trailer has been released. and as usual, i couldn’t help but get excited. hehe!

i like this teaser far more than the first one. i was not able to place some scenes in relation to the ‘prince’ book and it made the anticipation more exciting. i want to be surprised. i am neither a potter book purist nor a movie purist. let the writers do what they have to do just let the story be true to the books. i have come to understand that the storyline of the book must be altered for it to fit a prescribed and limited length of a movie. but 24-hour long potter movie would be really cool! piece of advice: don’t read the books before watching. it lessens the disappointed. hehe!i am frustrated at first especially towards ‘sorcerer’s’ and ‘chamber’ because of the deleted scenes and changes but ‘azkaban’ was really great! alfonso cuaron twisted the story and i loved it. the fate of the ‘hallows’ was somehow left to david yates’ hands. crap.

i consider myself more of a reader than a writer and if harry didn’t pass under my nose i don’t think i could handle any extensive reading at all. the series made me love reading. i can’t remember how many times i’ve read each book from it. a principle somehow was formed in my head: if i could read a book as ‘thick’ as harry, i could deal with any thick books out there (except for medical books of course. there was this medical-surgical nursing book required for our curriculum. it was five inches thick and as big as the book of shadows in the tv series charmed. the letters were so minute it could practically blind you not to mention that it could cause severe cerebral hemorrhage due to very strange and difficult-to-pronounce medical terminologies. this book could kill, i tell you. but still i’m alive, you see? haha! did i mention it’s on two volumes?). i was fascinated by jk rowling’s descriptive and creative prowess. since harry potter, i was motivated to read other literary works and authors. i usually dig novels about mysteries and conspiracies that’s why i admire dan brown’s works. as time went by, i was also able to view reading not just a form of entertainment and aesthetic pleasure but somehow, an escape.

it was on my sophomore year in high school when a very close friend, tracey, let me borrow her sorcerer’s stone. it took me three weeks to finish it given that it’s just a relatively thin book. i was a slow reader back then. my reading incompetence probably gave tracey a clever idea because soon after i returned it she turned lending harry potter books to a business--5 pesos a day. haha! three weeks of reading would’ve cost me 70 pesos. hehe!

anyway, i went to haley’s place last night to do some catching up and watched some one tree hill episodes. the marathon was going fine until the sounds went out. haley’s crappy sound system was the culprit. hehe! i forgot to bring my ‘dolby surrounds’ because i was so excited to hang out with her. the sounds went back anyway and i was glad the episodes were a lot cheery than the previous set. i remembered watching it, insisting on watching some gossip girl afterward, just to neutralize the heavy mood.

after watc
hing we ate three large fries, burgers and cola at mcdonald’s, my treat. we were so full! i missed hanging out with her in that place. i couldn’t remember the last time we ate there. so many memories. after some funny and mushy talks i walked her home, her arm wrapped on mine. upon arrival at her place, i kissed her good bye and went home. she had no idea she’s the one person that keeps me sane through all my emotional baggage. i’ll definitely miss her when she leaves for saudi arabia. but just like peyton’s father had said, “people always leave. but sometimes it’s good.”

hales, if you’re reading this, please don’t comment! hahaha! peace out!



SHE WAS WALKING ALONE and trying desperately to keep her mind blank of any thoughts. but she was unsuccessful. the face of the woman behind the glass was etched in her mind like a distant nightmare. she shouldn’t have peeked into the coffin.

a friend of hers died two days ago. suicide. she wondered how she committed her suicide. the dead woman looked peaceful lying there in the soft insides of the white coffin, a twisted smile etched in her face. how could someone kill oneself and die smiling? the image still burned in her head. there were flowers that cast smell of death in the evening air and candle lights were the only sources of light. black outs are just normal in the province. and it’s just normal to find the streets void of people as soon as the dusk sets in. it was already 8 o’clock in the evening and she wished the road she was taking be flooded by light. she wished that people still stayed outside. the next house was still a long walk away, standing nearby a river. she was afraid.

she continued to walk. anxiety took over and made her apprehensive of everything that surrounded her. the cold air; the trees that lined the street, swaying and whispering; the silence broken only by the sound of insects; the light coming from the misty glow of the moon and from the candle she was holding in her right hand to light her way. the road was soft and muddy and it looked like the rain would pour soon. unfortunately for her, she forgot to bring one. she walked on trying to calm herself by breathing slow deep breaths. but somehow there was an eerie feeling that someone or something was breathing with her. she could feel it blowing at the back of her neck but she shook the thought off. the next house would be only 60 meters away. she just needed to cross the bridge and soon she’d be home.

she walked on until suddenly, there was an absolute silence. the insects couldn’t be heard anymore, same goes with the swaying trees and the wind. the silence was only disturbed by the sounds made by her feet against puddles of water, her fast breathing, and her heart beating up her throat. the breathing at the back of her neck remained slow but this time accompanied by soft footsteps. she never dared to look sideways nor look at her back. she was determined to look ahead and go home. she walked a little faster. and with a heartbeat she heard something, right at her left ear. she didn’t understand it. it was a whisper. an unintelligible hush of words that made her skin crawl. she broke into a run…

she ran with eyes closed trying to block anything but even if she did so, the image of a wake was still seared hot on her mind. she tried not to hear anything nor feel. it was all in the mind, she thought. she ran the length of the road, her skirts and hair swaying violently against the air and her legs were stained with mud. she stopped. every breath stabbed her sides and her heart was trying to break out from her chest. she opened her eyes slowly… very slowly… she waited for her eyes to adjust to available light. there was no light. the light from her candle was gone. the only light was from a faint glow of the moon that had successfully penetrated the clouds. it started to rain. she looked ahead and found herself before the bridge; black angry water churned beneath it.

she hated crossing the bridge. it was only made using bamboos weaved together but still proven safe as time went by. what she didn’t like about the bridge was that it’s narrow. very narrow. only two people could fit in its cramping width. if two people crossed the bridge towards opposite directions, it was impossible for them not to brush shoulders. boats were unavailable due to big waves caused by the rain earlier that evening. there was a house nearby but it seemed deserted. she had no choice.

it was quite a long bridge. she crossed it very slowly. the bamboos were slippery due to the pouring rain. her gait was a series of calculated fall. her hands were struggling on the slippery bamboo bars on the sides for support. she couldn’t see clearly due to the scarcity of light and the thin sheet of visionary wall made by the rain. still breathing heavily and heart pounding, she was glad the sound of breathing and footsteps had gone, drowned away by the angry waters below her and the rain pounding on her ears. she looked and continued to walk across. half-way, she saw a silhouette far ahead. it was a woman. she was excited to see a living soul at last.

the excitement and relief died in instant. something was wrong and strangely weird about the woman in front of her. she was not moving. she just stood there in the middle of the bridge, head bowed, and waiting. her long tangled hair covered her face, dripping wet. she was wearing a tattered daster printed with little pink flowers. she was barefoot. she didn’t know what’s more eerily weird about the woman: the fact that she’s standing in the middle of the bridge looking like a lunatic or that she’s slowly running her fingers on the hair of porcelain doll, eyes missing from their sockets. the doll had no arms too. the woman’s pale white skin glistened in rain water… and blood?

the woman before her scared the hell out of her. but she had no choice but to move forward. she couldn’t go back. the nearest village was very far away and transportation was hard at that hour of the night. she heaved a very deep breath, sighed and slowly moved forward. her eyes never left the woman in front of her and closer and closer she went. her heart is beating frantically when she came in level and brushed shoulders with the woman. and in that instant she felt an unexplainable chill that ran from her neck down to her body. it was neither the air nor the rain. it was caused by something she couldn’t explain or rather something her mind won’t entertain. she mustered every ounce of courage she had left and moved forward and past the woman. she was just five steps away when she heard it. it was the whisper she had heard earlier. it was an unintelligible whisper, followed by a girlish laugh like a giggle; a mirthless laugh that made her skin crawl once again.


the woman was calling her.


it was a soft and prolonged but very audible sound.


she wanted not to look back but her neck was somehow forced to. very slowly she turned her head and the image she saw brought her to the edge of sanity. she was looking into the eyes of a woman without a soul. her eyes were empty. but what really petrified her to the spot was her sinister smile. and then, the woman suddenly leaned backward against one side of the bridge and went overboard. she had a last hint of a smile on her face as she got swallowed by darkness and the churning waters below.

her thoughts were numb. she ran as fast as she could, even slipped a couple of times but she didn’t care. and suddenly she was home. she was safe at last. she was crying. it took her some moments before she noticed that her house was in total darkness. the darkness scared her. she decided to light the candle she was still holding with a lighter from her purse. and when the light slowly flooded the room she saw it again. right in front of her were empty eyes and a twisted smile she knew so well…

"tumalon ako sa tulay…"

she wondered how she committed her suicide. she got her answer.

. . .
this is my post for the halloween season. this was the story i was very scared to write. just like i had said, my imagination scares me a lot. i usually write at night but i wrote this entry this morning starting at 7 am. but still i had goose bumps while writing the draft. i am just relieved that i was able to let it out of my head at last.

there’s this superstition (pamahiin) that when you attend a wake (burol) and went straight home, the soul of the deceased would follow you. creepy eh? awoooooo! happy halloween guys!


questions and answers

PEOPLE LIKE TO ASK QUESTIONS. it’s in our nature. it goes back from our childhood. from the time we first gain consciousness of the world down to the moment we breathe our last breath. we ask from simple questions like how we were created down to the complicated ones like what’s the pathophysiology of tetralogy of fallot? we ask questions because by asking we learn things. when we learn things, we become knowledgeable, and the knowledge we acquire gives us wisdom to make wise decisions. a person who asks a lot of questions, to some eyes is smart but to others, just plain stupid. questions and answers—one of the most infamous dualities.

questions require answers. somehow, life is a continuous quest for answers but at some point in our lives we find ourselves before a large question mark that hinders us to move forward. but no matter how hard we try to look for answers and how patiently try to wait, some answers are just so elusive. they are not just there; absent when you need them the most. they tend to run away from us. the worst thing that could happen is if the questions we’re asking don’t have any answers. then, we ask more questions. are all questions have answers? we have to ask this because the idea that unanswerable questions exist is just unacceptable especially if the questions are the most crucial ones and yield answers that could define ourselves or lead us to the person that we want to be.

we need answers especially when we are lost. we need directions. we need lamps to light our paths. we need breadcrumbs to find our way back home. we need maps where we could point our fingers and trace our steps. we need compasses to show us the true north whenever we’re lost at sea. we need lighthouses to navigate our ships to safe shores. we need a coin we could flip or a twig or a bottle we could turn when we find ourselves before a fork on the road. we need these things. we need answers especially to questions that could define the rest of our lives. the problem is where to get them?

the most complicated questions sometimes yield very simple answers. and somehow, very simple questions have the most complicated answers. every question is difficult unless you already know the answer or you have at least an idea of how to come up with the answer. it all goes down to how bad we want the answers. if we want the answers badly, we search for it. we search for answers and when we fail, we invent things to get them. in mathematics, it maybe in the form of scientific equations or algebraic formula. same goes with questions in our lives. we invent our own equations and formulas to get the answers. life is a twisted arithmetic. unfortunately for me, i suck at mathematics.

some people ask questions uncertain if they want to know the answers. people like comfort. people like sticking to their comfort zones and if they ask questions, a part of them generate a standard of the answers. they expect the answers are those they want to hear. wanting sometimes overcomes necessity. sometimes answers based on truths are just so painful that people run away from them. people are running scared. in hiding. afraid of the unknown. this is most common cause of anxiety in dying patients or those prepped for very delicate surgeries. they prefer being lost and hovering into nothingness than to suffer the pain from knowing the truth. up until now people fail to understand that pain is a part of life. that pain makes us learn. that pain makes us grow.

truly, unlucky are those hearts that can bend. they may not feel the pain but they will never learn. i call them stupid hearts. their owners are those that look for truths half-heartedly. they are the ones that tend to look for answers in the wrong places. they tend to look, well aware they’re wearing blindfolds and conveniently forgetting to turn the lights on. no wonder they end up groping in the dark. but who could blame them? people lie. they’re afraid they’ve been lied to. they’re afraid that answers may not be true and they are frustrated because there’s no way to prove the credibility and validity of the answers thrown in front of their faces. they have lost something that couldn’t be found anywhere or something you can buy in a nearby convenience store--trust. while paranoia still remains as the ugliest feeling ever.

however, blessed is the man whose heart could break. only few people know this for only few accepted the possibility that the answers could be found underneath the broken pieces. broken hearts yields better people, knowledgeable people, and hopeful people. they may have suffered pain but they are the ones that easily find the northern stars easily, to help them find their way. they are the master mathematicians of love and of life. most especially they are ones that ask and find answers; not necessarily answers that they want but most especially those that they need to move forward and grow…