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


26.2.09

dalawang piso


MAGSISIMULA ANG KWENTO sa ilalim ng punong mangga sa tuktok ng burol na napalilibutan ng malinaw na sapa. Dito madalas nagtatagpo ang matalik na magkaibigan na si Poknat at Bok-Bok. Isang gabing walang mga bituin ay nagkita silang muli. Bukod sa mga nagtatagong bituin ay tila isa lamang iyong gabi na tulad ng iba.

“Bakit ang tahimik mo, Bok?” wika ni Poknat habang pinagmamasdan ang tanawin sa paanan ng burol.

“Hinihingal ako e.” sagot ni Bok. “Napagod ako sa pag-akyat”. Alam niyang hindi pinaniwalaan ni Poknat ang sinagot niya.

“Ang wirdo mo ngayon. Parang may kakaiba sa’yo.” sabay tingin sa kaibigan, nakakunot ang noo. Aninag niya ang balisang mukha sa ilaw ng gasera sa kanilang paanan.

“Ikaw rin, Nat. May kakaiba din sa’yo bukod dyan sa pina-straight mong buhok.” winika ni Bok, nang nakatingala na tila naghahanap ng bunga sa mga nagsasayaw na dahon.

“Bagay ba?” Natuwa si Poknat dahil napansin ng kaibigan ang pina-straight niyang buhok.

“Ok lang. Pero mas gusto ko pa rin yung kulot.” winika nito na sinundan ng pagbakas ng lungkot sa mukha ni Poknat. Napansin ito ni Bok.

“Bagay naman sayo kahit ano…uhm…kasi maganda ka.” pabawing bulong ni Bok habang kinakalabit ang mga kwerdas ng kanyang gitara.

“Nako. ‘Wag kang umasang sasabihan kitang gwapo ka!” Sabay na natawa ang dalawa.

“Tugtugan mo naman ako, Bok” pabirong sabi ni Poknat.

“Ano namang kakantahin ko?” tanong ni Bok na tila biglang nanigas sa kina-uupuan. Simula pagkabata’y hindi pa niya nakakantahan si Poknat ng kahit ano ngunit wala siyang makitang dahilan upang hindi pagbibigyan ang hiling ng kaibigan.

Walang kaabog-abog ay tumayo si Bok sa kinauupuan at pumuwesto sa harapan ni Poknat, hinagkan ang gitara, nakaukit sa isipan ang awiting matagal na niya dapat inalay sa kaibigan.

Walang magawa si Poknat kundi makinig at ngumiti sa nanginginig na boses ni Bok. Ngayon lang niya narinig umawit ang kaibigan. Wala namang magawa si Bok kundi umawit at pumikit, nagdadalawang isip na imulat ang mga matang nagkukubli ng pag-ibig. Bawat tiklada ng gitara ay pag-asang marinig ng kaibigan ang tinatagong lihim.

Pagtapos tumugtog ay tinabihan ni Bok ang kaibigan. Magkadikit ang mga kamay sa ugat ng puno na kanilang inuupuan. Pinili nilang manahimik habang nilalasap ang mga sandaling magkadikit ang mga nanlalamig na kamay.

“Naalala mo ba dati, nung mga bata pa tayo, Nat. Madalas tayong nagpapalipad ng saronggola dito. Nakaka-miss.” tahimik na sinabi ni Bok, habang pinanonood ang mga paang naglalaro ng mga tuyong dahon at alikabok.

Tara! Bilis!” wika ni Poknat sabay hila sa manggas ni Bok.

“Huh? Magpapalipad tayo ngayon? Gabi na!” hindi makapaniwalang sagot ni Bok.

“Tungaw, hindi! Basta!” At tumakbo silang bumaba papunta sa sapa, bitbit ang gitara at ang gasera, hinahalikan ng malamig na hangin ang kanilang mga mukha. Hindi nagtagal ay nakarating din sila sa sapa.

“Pengeng piso, Bok.”

“Huh? Para saan?”

“Mag-wiwish lang ako." Hinugot ni Bok ang natitirang dalawang pisong barya sa bulsa at ibinigay ang piso sa kaibigan.

Ipinikit ni Poknat ang mga mata at taimtim na humiling, ang piso’y nakahimlay sa isang palad. Ginamit ni Bok ang pagkakataon upang pagmasdan ang kaibigan. Mga nakaw na sandaling inaasam-asam. Sampung taon na pagkakaibigan ngunit iba ang gabing iyon. Nasilayan ni Bok ang ganda nito sa malamlam na ilaw ng gasera, habang pinaglalaruan ng hangin ang kanyang mahabang buhok. Tumigil ang mundo samantalang patuloy ang pagtibok ng mga puso.

Kinuha ni Bok ang kamay ni Poknat, pinikit ang mga mata at humiling, hawak ang malamig na barya sa kanyang bulsa. Humigpit ang pagkakakapit ng mga kamay hanggang sa lumipad ang dalawang piso at tuluyang naglaho sa dumadaloy sa tubig. Lumipas ang mga sandali. Dalisay ang katahimikan ng gabi. At sa pagmulat ng mga mata’y wala na ang ilaw mula sa gasera na napalitan ng liwanag na nagmumula sa buwan at mga bituin at sanlaksang alitaptap.

“Anong hiniling mo, Bok?” tanung ni Poknat, mga mata’y tila may hinahanap sa mata ng bawat isa.

“Na sana mahal mo din ako, Nat.” sagot ni Bok, katotohanan na hindi na kayang itago ng kanyang mga mata.

“Sabi ko na nga ba e. May kakaiba sa’yo ngayon.” Sapat na ang ngiti at malamig na kamay ni Poknat upang malaman ni Bok-Bok na ang hiling niya at ang hiling ng kaibigan ay iisa.

20.2.09

a normal post

THIS WEEK HAS BEEN PRETTY DEPRESSING and I am bored out of my skull. No TV. No internet connection. Nothing new to watch. I am broke. And just to keep my sanity intact, I resolved into watching movies I already watched and write stories that didn’t really happen. Having said that I think I just lost it. I mean what kind of sane person does that, right? Hays. Imagine my delight when I learned that the results of the November 2008 Nursing Licensure Examinations came out today! : P

As expected, my Haley James nailed the examinations. There was no doubt in my head that she would make it. I just smiled when I saw her name on the roster (But before that, my heart was pounding out of my chest!). It had been tough on her given that she was working and studying at the same time. But you see? She’s definitely one of the smartest and independent people I know. She might appear small but she’s really big in so many ways.

Len-len made it too. I am really glad that she came through. No one deserves this more than her considering the tribulations she had gone through. Of all her beautiful attributes it’s her spirit that I admire the most. It is indeed inspiring to see it slowly being realized.

A lot of my batch mates who took the boards passed too. I was so thrilled when I saw their names posted on the online inquirer. Since most of them survived the grueling 2-day exams answering 500 questions, this calls for a lot of thanksgiving parties! Woohoo! And parties mean food! A lot of food! And late-night drinking sessions and of course---a lot of singing! Hehe!

I think the videoke machine is one of the most ingenious inventions ever made. This is a glimpse of what happens when you let me hold a microphone. Haha!


See that guy with the arrow? He looked depressed didn’t he? That fate awaits those who hear me sing. It’s as if their souls get sucked out of them though their ears. Haha! My LSS nowadays is Kundiman by Silent Sanctuary.

I was on you tube the other day and I saw these:

I can’t wait to see kristin kreuk do that helicopter kick! I just love her. Too bad she’s no longer in Smallville anymore.





May 15 is the day when the Illuminati will resurface again and destroy the very core of the Christian faith. This trailer gave me goose bumps!




And later this year, the Half-Blood Prince will premiere to rule the box-office for sure. Enough said.




I am so happy I get to write a ‘normal’ post again. My life is pretty boring lately you see, so forgive me if I scarcely write anything related to what happens to me in real life. : P Peace out!



17.2.09

the neglected road


THERE WAS A MAP in my hands. I had everything I need and yet I still felt so lost. The path I ought to take was laid in front of me and yet the drive to push through seemed to lack. There was something wrong with me.

I took another closer look of the map and imagined the destination in my head. And there it was. Small, almost hidden amongst crisscrossing roads was another route to where I am headed. It was there all along but I ignored it and never considered taking its winding road; ominous and scary at first glance.

For a moment my life suddenly flashed-forward. I imagined myself five years from now. I wondered how I would look like. How much change that measure of time would cause me? The image was a little vague but what I saw was beautiful. I had hope. I have been inspired.

The path is not necessarily easy but the end of it is so promising. I guess things are supposed to be this way. You have to suffer first. I am not certain if this is what my heart desires, but at least I have taken a step, which is so difficult for someone who doesn’t know what he wants anymore. A different journey awaits me. I will be in a different place far away from my comforts. But I guess it’s all for the better. This is an opportunity of a lifetime and I have to grab it. I think I want to.

My heart beats both excitement and anxiety for what lies ahead, uncertain what emotion would win the battle in the end. Change is scary but it’s the only way out of this monotonous life I have right now. Fear is almost constant, but fighting it this time would make the difference.

It’s only a matter of time now before everything changes.







11.2.09

tell me, tell me not


O
UR LIPS TRAP silent unspoken words

A gathering darkness in a faint heart

Harboring shadows of doubt and of hurt

Like arrows drawn deep in the wings of birds

Hidden letters underneath our tongues

Are saliva that unrest fermented

Scared words that invokes air polluted

Brewing disguised love, stuck in our lungs

Silence turns into airless cramped spaces

Suffocating our last hope for our love

Taunted by vultures hovering above

Ready to eat our flesh once we fall breathless

Spaces become impenetrable walls

Fortified fear, horrid indecision

For us to go astray, lose direction

And watch as our patch of heaven falls

Walls turn into raw hurts invisible

Drawing permanent lines that tear my soul

But longing persists, an immortal call

To utter these words inconceivable



---

HOW CAN YOU SAY that you love someone with only mere words? How could love be expressed and be reduced it into three words alone that undermine the majesty of love itself? Saying the words is an easy task but how can we trust these words when we ourselves cannot trust our hearts?

We should say what we mean, and act what we say. A person should be cautious of how he chooses to translate his love into words or actions because no one knows who might believe him. We do not want to break hearts, do we? But what if what we say turn out to be mere lies? Should we blame ourselves? Should we consider ourselves traitors for speaking the language of our hearts that we thought was true and absolute? Or should we just reason out what we feel using pure logic?

Love is a risk and it is your choice whether you will risk or not. And when you decide to utter the words, make sure you’re falling. For love is like cutting the same a rope in which you hold on to. Once it’s cut, there’s no turning back. If you fall hard, good for you. If you’re hurt really bad, grieve and cry but don’t let the pain consume you. You may suffer from some fractured bones but make sure you still have bones left so you could still walk. There would be instances where you would carry your own severed arm or foot home for you to stitch back unto your amputated limbs. You might look stupid for doing this but it doesn’t necessarily mean that you are. If you cut the rope and you’re not falling, don’t bother cutting the rope again. If you do, that is stupidity. You might be standing on the ground all along. Don’t fool yourself. You are not in love.

And weighing all these things, should we choose to be silent? People say following the heart would be the best choice and the most clich├ęd answer. But for those who no longer trust their hearts, a road of unrest awaits them—a dark path teeming with questions towards an end barren of answers.



5.2.09

the book and the violin


I RAN AS FAST AS I COULD and yet every stride I took seemed like a step backward. I couldn’t escape from myself. It was foolish of course. And yet I persisted. Anywhere was better than where I was. I ran the miles against the wailing winds, bullets of raindrops and eternal shadows that swallowed that night. I took the roads that I thought I alone knew. I was alone. Exasperated. Almost hopeless.

Then I came into a halt. I caught my breath, my hands on my knees, struggling to gasp oxygen into my air-deprived heart and mind. I saw and sat on a wooden bench next to a dead lamp post, ominous in contrast to the trees beyond. I tried to think. But there was nothing that made sense that night; only noise invoked by the rain against the leaves of trees, my frozen skin, and everything else. There was nothing I could do but watch my feet. I was sitting along a narrow path of cobblestones, cold underneath me, leading towards a destination I didn’t know.

I was freezing. Rubbing my wet hands together was as pointless as lighting a cigarette in the middle of a storm. And in a heartbeat it stabbed me. It was loneliness darker than the night. I wept as camouflaged tears escaped my eyes. My sobs were muted by the storm that reflected what was deep inside my heart. The night and my heart was one.

I took out a small book from my pocket. It was my favorite book—a chronicles of poetry and stories I loved so much. I was about to open it when I heard something--sounds of disturbed puddles of water. Someone was coming and by the sound of it, was approaching in haste. I looked up and saw a young lady wearing a tarnished black dress. She looked at me with those eyes I knew so well. She was the last person I expected to see, but her presence was comforting nonetheless. It dawned to me that I was no longer alone. I was no longer the only person dripping wet in the rain. Barefoot. Crazy.

She sat beside me, a violin resting on her lap. She looked up to the heavens her long wet hair emphasized every inch of beauty the scarce light could touch on her face. And yet sadness was etched on it reflecting on mine with a shade of awe.

“Will you play something for me?” I asked. The rain dramatically toned down and turned into a shy drizzle. The clouds retreated revealing the stars. It was like the night wanted to listen.

She looked deep into my eyes into which I got lost. The next moment she was gracefully moving the bow back and forth against the strings of her violin. The saddest song echoed though the night in a melody that reverberated in the chambers of my heart. Tears fell from her eyes like rain water dripping from her violin. I felt the urge to heal her pain. I wished I could.

“Read me your favorite line.” She said after playing the last note of her song, her eyes fixed on the book I was holding then on me.

I opened it and read, “The moment we begin to seek love; love begins to seek us. And to save us.”

And then suddenly the lamp post came to life showering our path with a warm golden glow of light. She smiled and I returned it. Once there was darkness and then came hope.

“Will you come with me?” I asked offering my hand and beckoning her towards the path unknown. “I do not know where it leads, but I would like to take it with you.”

She willingly gave her hand and said, “I know the end of this road. It just depends on what you want it to be.”

“Then I am not lost anymore.” I decided.

She and I set out to take that road as I read my book while she played the violin, hoping we would end up on the same end as the soft rain fell like fireflies from the sky.




. . . . .

This scene burned in my head for quite some time now. I am glad I was able to immortalize it through words at last.

1.2.09

in memoriam


People in white stained the roads dragging their feet, their faces covered in tear-soaked handkerchiefs, and skin smoldering against the late morning sun. The sun appeared that day with a smile but they greeted it with nothing but grimaces. The world should’ve stopped but it didn’t. Instead it continued to slither underneath their feet where tears from their sleep-deprived eyes fell and dried away.

They walked on, tailing the vehicle that carried him to his final resting place; distorted faces reflected on its shiny body. Coins littered their paths and the smell of death lingered in the smoke-polluted air they breathed. Songs of lament amplified every ounce of loneliness, draining the hearts, drowning the spirit. It was a long walk. They didn’t know if they want it to end. Every step was a prayer; a knife jabbed in a heart that misses a person so dear and loved. The journey tested the body but every moment of it challenged their grieving spirits.

People leave the earth the same way they came to it-- in ash and dust. As the white coffin got swallowed by the earth, cries pierced the silence that cradled the final moments. It was human grief as palpable as the clouds that stained the deep blue sky. Every jab of a spade, every ounce of soil dug and every flower cast felt like an urge to scream to the heavens in an act to separate the few remaining drops of loneliness from their hearts. Acceptance would come in the right time. Pain is inevitable but bound to fade and for hope to flourish.

The ground leveled and the fresh mound of soil where a rectangular black hole used to be was covered in wreaths and flowers. They started to scatter away as white balloons flew like birds towards the endless heights of the sky. There was no looking back. Hearts felt buried with him. The last songs echoed. And finally, they traversed the vast stretch of green grass towards a new journey. It was the journey home. It’s amazing how grief unites people but most importantly, how they find life in the darkness of death.

The air stood still that day and so are the hearts that promised to miss him forever.

. . .

In Memoriam

RODOLFO “RUDY” AGUILAR
1944-2009

They will soar on wings like eagles;
They will run and not grow weary,
They will walk and not be faint.

-- Isaiah 40:29-31


. . .


He was haley's uncle and my friend. She and I will never forget his smile that never seemed to fade...