out of shape

Out of nowhere, my phone beeped. It hadn't been beeping for a long while and so I got curious. Who would be texting hermit me? It was Jeremiah. She invited me to play badminton with her and Mark and his colleagues from the community hospital. I've been bugging her about playing because I felt like my blood was starting to coagulate due to lack of exercise. I had to start pumping my system or else I'd die of a heart problem or a stroke in a decade. My last smash if memory serves me right was two years ago back in college, which feels like a lifetime ago.

A couple of hours later, I arrived at the courts and did the usual stretching... but not really. I was just so psyched about playing! I played for just a couple of hours and man, I couldn't be more out of shape! Thirty minutes in (playing Sir Carlo), I started to labor on my breathing. I was struggling to breathe in air into my lungs and I was feeling that sharp pain on the part of my abdomen where the liver is supposed to be. After that, I played doubles with Jem against Mark and Sir Carlo. As expected, I couldn't find the right timing to smash the shuttle and most of my drops fell short into the net. We won in 2 sets but I felt like I was going to collapse on the floor. I rested for a while and had a singles match against Mark. Everything was going fine at first until Mark started to send the shuttles to the baseline. I was literally dragging my feet, from the net to the back. My footwork's shot. Eventually, my hands turned clammy, which was not a good sign (I might be having a generalized vasodilation that could put me into shock). The game only lasted a set. I gave up.

I went home knowing my body would ache for days. And I was right. My hamstrings felt like they're really pulled to the limit. My forearm muscles hurt so much that I could barely bend my wrist, brush my teeth, or lift a dipper of water when taking a bath. Sitting upright from lying supine became such a labor. For some reason, my abdominal muscles felt so weak, like I'm going to develop a hernia. I even needed to splint my lower abdomen when I cough to lessen the pain (and probably to keep my intestines from from sticking out of my tummy or worse, into my balls!). But the pain is good in a way. Every night when I'm off to sleep, I feel like I just had an extremely hard full body massage. I was sleeping like a baby.

I really have to make a routine exercise but it's really hard, especially if you do not have someone to do it with. I am starting to consider doing it all in the gym, but I'm not really comfortable in such places. Is that weird? I guess it is since everyone is going in that place to buff themselves up. But me? In a gym? Gawd I'm weird!

i am now a ophiuchusian. damn you, 13th zodiac!

The news said there is now a 13th Zodiac sign. If that's true, then I would be an Ophiuchusian from now on. Oh wait... But I am a Sagittarian! All my life I've been one. But the news said... Oh no. What will happen to my Sagittarian identity!? Oh my! My life is now in chaos because the Earth moved! Apparently, the moon pulled it and changed its place in space. It's the moon's fault.

YEAH RIGHT!

Today’s media hype about Ophiuchus, “the new 13th Zodiac Sign,” has sent folks spinning into an astrological identity crisis. Um, too bad the whole thing is not even true.

“Ophiuchus has nothing to do with Astrology,” said expert astrologer Rick Levine. “It’s not an Astrology issue. It has to do with the stars -- it’s not a sign, it’s a constellation.”

What?! Really?

“There are four seasons each with a beginning, middle and end," Levine continued. "That makes 12 zodiac signs, and there’s no such thing as a 13th astrological sign."

So why are people freaking out, wondering if they went to bed last night a Gemini and woke up a Taurus? No worries, friends. Here are the answers you’ve been waiting for on this cosmic controversy:

What is Ophiuchus?

Ophiuchus is a large modern constellation commonly represented as a man grasping the snake represented by the constellation Serpens.

Is Ophiuchus the 13th sign?

No. It’s just a constellation. Even the founding text for Astrology (Tetrabiblos by Claudius Ptolemy written 170 AD only mentions 12 signs.) A few astrologers who practice the controversial sidereal (consellation-based) zodiac use it as the 13th zodiacal sign – and by a few we mean about 1 percent.

How did this whole myth get started?

It began when astronomy professor Parke Kunkle of Minneapolis Community and Technical College told the Minneapolis Star-Tribune about the procession of stars over time. He said “Three thousand years ago the Sun was 'in' whatever it was in. Now it's about a whole constellation off from that." Kunkle’s quote went viral and was picked up by FOX News and other media outlets because people mistakenly assume that Astrology is based on constellations. But that’s not true.

So what is the truth?

Astrology is based on the four seasons, not on constellations -- and the seasons don’t change. As Levine said above, there are four seasons, each with a beginning, middle and end, which adds up to 12 zodiac signs. There is no 13th astrological sign. Period.

What does this mean for you?

Nothing! Your horoscope sign hasn’t changed. If you were a Gemini yesterday, you’re still a Gemini today – don’t worry, you’ll never wake up a Taurus. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

What can we learn from this?

Listen to the experts, and don’t believe everything you read until you check your facts. There are a lot of people out there who think they understand Astrology when they really don’t.

Soure: www.dailyhoroscope.com

qi deficient

So I have this symptom medically termed as scalloped tongue, and ever since I've first noticed it almost two years ago, I never had the guts to review possible diagnoses for it. I knew there must be a problem. I remember hearing the word from one of the lectures back in college but I couldn't remember which. The fact that I couldn't remember what disease or disorder it is associated made me quite anxious. I am not very good with dealing with the unknown, and I think it's because I am relying too much on what I already know. And so I became quite apprehensive thinking that out of thousands of lectures, I might've encountered it from our Cancer lectures and that some subtle symptoms could be caused by some very serious illnesses. Paranoid!

Yesterday, I finally got the balls to Google it. And it turned out, scalloped tongue could be caused by Vitamin B12 deficiency and hypothyroidism. That's a relief and way better than cancer! That could a problem with my blood formation. But it's no biggie. Vitamin B12 deficiency could be corrected through diet unless I have intrinsic factor problems. Hypothyroidism, however, could be maintained mainly through medication. But the interesting thing is when I stumbled upon an alternative medicine page, scalloped tongue means qi deficiency and lack of yang in the body. It says, that the qi/yang is responsible for the smooth movements and functioning of internal organs, and the tongue is the mirror of the internal state of the body. Apparently, it's the only internal organ that could be readily visualized. It could also mean water retention and that one is physically or mentally stressed. This deficiency in general suggests that I am lacking over-all energy or life force in my body. I am not sure about their pathophysiology (the main reason why I am quite a skeptic about alternative techniques) but for some reason, this lack causes the tongue to relax and bulge, which makes it easier for the teeth to leave indentations on the tongue's edges.

To make things worse, I woke yesterday morning with a dry mouth and a terrible itch up in my throat. It was hard for me to swallow and my head was pounding everytime I sniff watery rhinorrhea back into my nose. The symptoms are very classic of pharyngitis and upper respiratory tract infection. Noting I am the only one sick in the house probably means my immune system is shot. The cold temperature didn't help my condition either.

Anyways, I feel better now. Strepsils got rid off my sore throat. My congested nasal cavity is the one bothering me right now. Although, I still need to get some of my qi back...

happiness is a mood, not a destination

I am not really excited about the new year coming. I know there's a lot of things that has got to change and I feel like unless I get the motivation and inspiration I needed to sort these things out, the new year would be just another stretch of unpredictable time.

What I was really looking forward to though was the New Year celebration. And as always, it was really fun. We welcomed the New Year with a bang. Fireworks here and there, cheering for the amazing displays from our very well-off neighbors. :P My brothers and I are geeky enough to play wizards duel using our 'lusis' wands! That's how Potter freaks celebrate the new year! Haha!

"LUMOS MAXIMA!"

After the media noche (with the Filipino style spaghetti as the main attraction as always), Kuya Mac and I did a Chuck marathon, while the others immediately went to bed.

I only had a couple hours of sleep before we headed for Quezon City. We usually spend our annual new year celebration at our grandparents' place. We spent the whole day eating, even indulged ourselves with some hard liquor. The parlor games was really fun (I particularly liked the LOL game. I am once again reminded of how poor my joking skills are and my embarrassing hypersentivity to the conriest of jokes). But I think the highlight of the day was the videoke singing competition. Mechanics-- The one who would be able to get a score off 99 would win a 500 pesos cash prize. Surprisingly enough, my younger brother won...twice! Ding it! I earned 150 pesos though with my take on The Fray's How To Save A Life (97) and Close (95) by Paolo Santos. :)

We finally said our goodbyes and soon we were homeward bound by 10 PM. and while everyone was asleep, a quote from Julian Baker came into mind. It was about happiness and how it should be perceived as a mood and not as a destination. He mused that happiness comes and goes like the tides of the ocean. And that day, we were happy without a care of what will happen next. I think that's the way everyone should do it. Take every chance to be happy and be happy, and extend the moment for more than just a moment as much as you can; to linger in the moment and setting aside the possibility of sadness.

I looked at my family, asleep and obviously tired and as euphoria crashed on me in waves. It was really nice to be with a family to greet the new year. The van finally stopped and we arrived at our destination. We were home.

fallon's freakin' hilarious tribute to LOST

I woke up early for the Live Coverage of the Primetime Emmy's but I was really disappointed that LOST got snubbed. For a ground-breaking series, it was frustrating that it didn't get even a single Emmy this year. But then came Jimmy Fallon's tribute to LOST, and suddenly, it all became clear to me! It was freaking hilarious! Hahaha! This became the highlight of my day:



Another show is gone ‘cause LOST is overdue
Locke was the smoke monster and Jacob was some dude
Goodbye to Kate and Sawyer, Hurley, Ben, and Jack—
He grew a crazy beard and said:
WE HAVE TO GO BACK!
WE HAVE TO GO BACK!

The island, it was mythical but in the end they died
I didn’t understand it, but I tried.



I'm still in denial that LOST is over. Hays.

totem

Ever since I watched Inception, I've been racking my brains of what totem to have. Consequently, I remembered this piece of wood, a remnant of a key chain I used to have. I searched for it for days until it finally resurfaced, and with it, a silent amusement of how such a tattered piece of artifact could hold so many memories.

For those of you who haven't seen Inception yet (and those I caught their eyebrows raised on the sound of my message alert tone), a totem is a personal artifact used by the owner to confirm his existence in reality-- that he's not in a dream. Ironically, my totem serves a quite different purpose. Holding it right now reminds me of a dream, a fantasy rather than realism or of concrete reasoning. However, it makes me remember a reality that I once lived in, something real...

()

The words shiver in fear. I can feel them tremble, crammed inside the pen I hold, point hovering on a piece of blank paper, dry and thirsty for ink. The words are etched clearly on my mind but I find myself doubtful of the consequences their truths will hold for me. I might as well be pointing a gun to my head. To face death and truth seems like the same thing and dying is the only undisputed way to liberate myself into life.

The lines were blurred and both paths converged into a single thought—a question that required an immediate answer, which incontrovertibly led to a choice. And that choice is in here, in my hand, quivering in terror. Putting it into words and immortalizing it within the durable nature of printed letters is terrifying—the finality of it and the unmistakable evidence that it exists. It’s like giving a ghost a face or an eerie darkness a name. But I am doing this in the hope that I will find peace beyond this hostile territory of fear and indecision. All I need to do is to scribble the words and take a step over onto the other side of this line that divides the air breathe.

Thinking is a dangerous thing. There had been too much time and I spent most of it pondering and wondering. I don’t want to think. Not anymore. Reason itself had taken hold and corrupted my thoughts and I no longer have the heart to argue with it. I am trapped. I solely based this decision on instinct and what’s left of my conscience. The moment it felt like time wouldn’t run out, was the same moment it felt like the world had stopped. And so I am here, pointing the gun to my head, a quivering finger posed to pull the trigger. The heart races, preparing to take flight into the unknown. My breathing frantic in anticipation of a foreshadowed reality, where the air is ever clean as the souls who breathe it in. My pen is the barrel of the gun hoping the bullets would penetrate every functioning sense and carry me over to the other side—where time flies fast and the world spins madly on…

The point finally made contact on the paper’s surface, and very slowly forged cursive letters, elegant and perfect despite the uncontrollable tremors in my hand. I gawked at them, surprised for they were not the truths I was expecting. Pupils dilated, breathing stopped and blood grew stagnant in the absence of a functioning heart. Death at last…

…and then life.

nameless

"It must be a wonderful thing to be so sure that you love somebody."

–Toru, from Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami

I WISH IT HAS A NAME, or at least I hope there are words to exactly define it—this encrypted feeling locked within an undecipherable riddle. It doesn’t feel like there are bugs inside my gut, no fluttering wings whatsoever. It’s confusing but elating at the same time. But I am sure of one thing: This is dangerous. My mind is 100 percent certain of this. But as it usually does, my heart begs to differ.

There is a calming sense of comfort that came with it, clawing down my walls. A creeping warm came over me like someone invisible is embracing me. I could feel my heart beat in an odd way; strings vibrating with every breath that cast haunting melodies in the dark. I stare into the blank ceiling in a reverie, silently praying to never come out of it. As I struggle to fan the flame from its dying embers, I feel like a man trying with all his might to kindle a candle light in the middle of a raging storm. The wind is just too strong.

I couldn’t help it. I want to be tempted by this happiness. I don’t want to think. It’s fascinating how it is capable of causing beautiful chaos in the austere monotony of my world. Suddenly, I see faded photographs of the past in a whole new light—vibrant and filled with colors. I just want to look at them and trip and fall completely but I am so cautious of my steps. I walk head down watching my feet. Someone had tipped the scales underneath me and I am anxious to know what will happen next. But I know that a choice has still to be made to make something actually happen. To make the choice is easy but sticking to the choice is hard.

Everything is so much simpler without this—simpler and cold. I am not sure if it’s a good thing. In some ways it is. But for someone who had lost hope, and then gained an ounce of it back without any warning out of thin air, it becomes a very scary thing to have. It means there is now something to lose. I am terrified because I know it will just lead me nowhere. But that is how it works. The inspiration will push me to tread its winding path despite the ominous consequences—an endless journey reeking with broken expectations. It feels like I am about to walk the thin line that separates the act of hoping from expecting-- a burdensome feat reminiscent of giving love without expecting anything in return. That’s the way it’s always going to be, isn’t it?

But there will be no such journey. I know myself this much. This maybe perhaps one of my greatest flaws, but it’s something that makes me who I am. Or maybe… just maybe—I don’t know myself as much I’d like to believe that I do. But ‘maybe’ is better than ‘no’ at this point. If that’s the case, then there may still be a sliver of chance for redemption…

midnight time machine

HE STOOD ON THE SUBWAY PLATFORM, with both hands in his pocket. Just a couple of inches behind the yellow line, he waited for the train to arrive. His eyes closed intent, thoughts lost in the music that plugged his ears. He was alone. Everything was eerily still except for the sound of a dying bulb blinking yellow light over his head. It was a perfect analogy to the conflicts that brought him to the train station that night. He was flickering—an image of a man, appearing alternately in light and in dark. That’s the way it’s always going to be. Everything will continue to exist in opposites and yet there he was, standing at the middle between a choice and its complete reverse. Then suddenly, the bulb over his head exploded into sparks. Was it a sign? He found himself standing on a patch of shadow. He looked like a man suspended over a hole on the grimy tiled floor, defying gravity and praying not to fall.

A gust of wind struck him and it reminded the man of how someone whispers warm promises to his face or how a kiss melts on his mouth. Strangely, the very thought gave him chills, pulling him away from his reverie. His eyes opened exactly as the train doors did. Nearby, a clock struck midnight. It was new day to face old ghosts, he thought. He walked over the threshold and waited for the doors to close. He was the only one on board—exactly how he wanted it to be. The train started to move, slow at first, making up pace, then speeds its way like bullet piercing the calm midnight air ahead.

The man sat, eyes wide shut to the reality he decided to depart from at least for a while. He laid his back against the cold glass window behind him. He would feel the train moving on its tracks. The speed that carried him made it easier to pretend that he could actually feel the world turn in the way how scientists say it does in space—blindingly fast from west to east. He could feel people and places whipping past by the window; the faces of those he once loved and lost, those he had left to lose, and strangers he would soon meet. They were all there—the places he had been to, the far away countries he wanted to explore, the dreams that came and went, the memories he once held in his hands eventually disintegrating into dust. It made him feel like he’s riding time; that as long as he’s in there, in pace with how the world spins and how time stretches through the blank unknown, he wouldn’t miss anything. He was everywhere. He didn’t want to open his eyes because he knew there’s nothing too see outside except a world drenched in absolute shade, adorned with nothing but horizontal streaks of blurry multicolored lights.

The railway transit continued to move in its tracks for what measure of time, the man wasn’t sure. He felt the train slowing down till it finally came to a halt. The doors opened, but no one came in. He waited for the doors to close but they didn’t. Puzzled, he hesitantly stood and walked by the door. He walked over the threshold into the platform. He looked around to see nobody. It was like people had disappeared from the face of the earth. Then, suddenly the doors hissed shut behind him. The train started to move disappearing into the darkness of the tunnel. It wasn’t long before he noticed he was standing on the same shadowy patch of tiled floor, of the platform. Instinct told him to look up. A busted bulb gawked at him from above: out of light, out of order. It was not a sign, the man concluded, but a reminder of what he’d been reduced to. He’s back to where the ride started, back to reality. The absence of speed to carry his weight caused straps of burden bite harder on his shoulders. He felt heavier. The lack of movement seemed to have stopped the world from turning. Time deceivingly appeared frozen. It was a perfect illusion, of course. He knew for a fact that while he stood there motionless, the world is spinning madly on while time takes the liberty to engage on a race against itself. He sat down on the floor, hugged his knees and rocked. This time, he looked like a boy trying to stay afloat in a sea of black water he wish he could tread but could not.

bored in wonderland like crazy

HALEY AND I decided to brave Wonderland yesterday afternoon and got out of it disappointed. It was really hard at first to conclude that it was shallow because it would mean wasting 500 pesos. The storyline was very simple and absolutely unoriginal. Even the supposedly mind-blowing 3D visuals could not make up for the film’s ridiculously simple plot. I have grown loving Tim Burton’s movies but this is just a flop for me.

But something good really came out of it. Well, I get to hang out with my bestfriend again after three or four months? Plus I get to finally meet his boyfriend. It was kind of awkward meeting him because I don’t know how to break the ice. Well, first, he’s a Korean and second, I’m not sure if I could converse in straight English without having nosebleeds.

A funny thing happened when we got out of the cinema. We chanced upon our closest college friends: Neen, Jesha, Steph, Mitchy, and Shane. Apparently, they have fallen victim to the I Miss You Like Crazy hype. After a brief catching up and cam whoring, Haley and I departed from the group. As we walked on, Haley remembered our food stubs from purchasing Alice in Wonderland tickets. We decided to go back and claim our popcorns and drinks hoping they could fill the void inflicted by the movie. It happened that food stubs are also exchanged in the Snack Section of Cinema 2, showing I Miss You Like Crazy. We presented our stubs to the guard and he let us pass WITHOUT CHECKING. He didn’t even ask if we have tickets for the movie or we haven’t. We lined up for the counter. It was taking so long. The guard was kind of preoccupied checking the line for the movie. It only took us one mischievous look to each other to know that we were about to do something really bad. I motioned for the door behind me and Haley followed.

We soon joined our college friends on the balcony. Both of us, felt a little paranoid and a little proud of our mischief. For a person who almost always plays by the rules, it was really something new and fun. :P I was enjoying the movie actually. Bea’s fake laughs, John Lloyd corny dialogue, and the people clapping to the cheesy scenes really made it fun for me and Hales. Hehe!

But after thirty or so minutes, we decided to go. We bid our goodbyes to the group, dodge the guard at the entrance, and meet up with Hales' boyfriend. I soon said my goodbyes to both of them and Hales said in crisp Tagalog with eyes full of warning:

“Huwag mo akong hahalikan!”

I gawked at the giant beside her and said to myself: Point well taken. I want my popcorn!!!

closed doors and undecided hearts

“There are things that are known and things that are unknown and in between there are doors.”

–William Blake

IF THERE'S ANYONE OUT THERE who could hear my thoughts, I urge you to come forth. Read them to me for I have lost the ability to make sense of the things bouncing within the walls of my skull. What torment is worse than the struggle with your own mind? What’s more wretched than to fall victim to your own thoughts? The more I think, the farther I pull away from the answers and pushed nearer towards the inevitable loss. Is there greater tragedy than to be eaten by reason in trying to win a war in the battlefield of the heart? But I know risking an open war is the only good choice I have and evasion will just send me directly into the pit of defeat.

Fear is scouting by my doorstep, knocking on my door like a friendly neighbor, with a knife at the ready. A step outside these walls would be a stab to the heart or a slit to my throat. Should I risk it? Should I let it in and lock it in my arms like a long lost friend, when in fact it is no more than a stranger; nameless, dark, and mischievous as the night?

Snapshots flash before my eyes. As fast as lightning they came and left like thunder, sending rumbling echoes into the still air—ghosts in my head, hungry zombies drooling at my feet. It is strange to find comfort in the chaos of it all; in the randomness of things and in the disorientation to what was, what is, and what will be. This limbo is a fortress and a prison at the same time. In here time has no wings. This is a place where all streets that leads to nowhere end. This was a sanctuary for me once but the pleasure of floating into nothingness had faded like ecstasy swimming in drugged veins. And what was left was the urge to feel warmth, to scour the ever shaded world for a hint of light, and to find anything that could fracture the absolute silence buzzing its usual boring melody.

As I say this, my hand grasps the latch. On the other side of the door is the love of my life and my greatest fear. Should I open the door? It’s interesting how indecision could turn someone into an empty shell—hollow, brittle, fragile. My brain is cramping with too many thoughts and yet there is only one choice to make: either to lock the door or turn the knob I am grasping with my clammy hand. But whatever I choose to do, one thing is certain—I will break…

…exactly how I broke your heart…

heartbreak on the day of hearts

THE (2) UST TIGRESSES AND (1) DLSU LADY SPIKERS battled it off yesterday at the San Juan Arena. Being a big fan of the game, I decided it would be stupid to miss this powerhouse match. So I, together with a couple of friends, went to San Juan and saw the games live.

Watching live volleyball action featuring your idols (namely Cha Cruz and Paneng Mercado) in the flesh was a very thrilling experience. It definitely beats watching them on HD TV! It felt really nice to revel once more in that familiar addictive school spirit. I was rooting for La Salle and for a day I felt like I got to be one of them, shouting Animo, La Salle! and singing along with their chants.

As the games progressed, the Arena was booming with every point from both sides. The crowd oooh-ed with every drop, block, and spike as bass drums amplified the intensity of the game. I really learned to appreciate the work and the effort exerted by the Pep Squad. Imagine shouting Animo, LaSalle in a full and booming voice for two hours. Mine started to break in the 3rd set and I felt a shooting pain in my left lower chest. I thought one of my lungs had collapsed. Hehe!

The game seemed longer than it usually does on television. But after two hours of a five-set match, the ladies in gold defeated the ladies in green, (25-23, 20-25, 28-26, 16-25, 12-15) earning the bragging rights and probably tipping the scales to their advantage for the Championship. It was a heartbreaker. I feel for Melissa Gohing (libero) for a crucial error in the end setting the opposing team at set point. She maybe the defence specialist but she fell victim to Rhea Dimaculangan’s sharp floater.

The match was a no-bearing game. Its outcome will not change the two teams’ positions as they enter the semi-finals. But man, they really delivered and gave their all. I’m definitely going back to watch them live again. I’m also looking forward to watch the Ateneo Lady Eagles; another very promising team. It would be really interesting if they could steal at least a game from the Tigresses. The semis will start next week on the 20th.

It was a long and rough 3-hour journey home. I got home tired, voiceless, sleepless but happy. And I still got to watch the replays on Balls. Hehe! By the way, there’s a volleyball league in town and I’m wondering if I’d join. I know I’m really rusty but somehow I’d like to. ANIMO! –Can anyone tell me what this means?

confrontation with a masked metaphor

DO NOT FORCE THOSE WORDS into my mouth and those thoughts into my head. I fear not the face you wear but the monsters that lurks behind your teeth. I can smell the stench whenever you exhale. They are stuck on your gums, rotten and scabbed like the secret I have long kept. Reminding me is pointless so I pray you—stop telling me things that I should be afraid of for I have long memorized the list. I could recite them to you even in dreams—the places where they usually stay and breed like flies; haunting me in my own subconscious awareness and the fear they inflict carried on till I open my eyes. But I know this attempt is futile. You will not give up that easily. I can feel you breathing on my neck, crawling underneath my feet. You dig the ground deep and eagerly with your fingernails to make me a hole where I would surely trip and fall. It will be a long way down; an endless free fall worse than the bone-crushing impact against the bottom. But I still have to try. You can stop strangling me for I grew numb to physical pain. You can let go because it’s only a matter of time before I amass the sufficient courage to voluntarily jump into the void myself. I fear the uncertainties lurking in its depths, but the darkness has also been a great ally, motivating me to see myself from a distance. In its eerie presence, I do not a have face or imperfections. I could only see is a heart, beating the questions to find the answers it seeks. In the end, everything will be revealed: truth, lies and everything that blurs those two, clear as illuminated by a thousand burning suns. Once again I am asking you; shut that word whole in your face and dance your way into the masquerade. Do not remove that mask as will I; for we both know that a secret is made by hiding something… and people are revealed by hiding themselves…

somethings to look forward to...

O-NINE HAD PASSED AWAY and here comes the fresh New Year. And like everything that ends and has to begin again, this year brings a new perspective of things to come. That’s the beauty of endings and beginnings. They give people the feeling of having a clean slate. No wonder New Year’s resolution has become a viral ideology. The ironic part is, most people fall short of them. (Even Oprah!) I wonder why.I gave up on making New Year’s resolutions due to the fact that

I lost my belief in them or rather on my belief in myself to carry out the deeds I promised to do.I think it all boils down to what your heart really wants plus a proper mind set. Thousand New Years will come and go, but unless you grow a willing heart to change, you’ll end up failing yourself. Enough of this New Year’s resolution crap. I say there’s a lot to look forward to especially on television. Since I started taking care of my Lola, I have grown to love th etelevision again. And even morning and primetime news suddenly became a part of my everyday routine. Before then, I was contented to watch series and movies on DVD’s to the point that I even started to miss those long annoying commercial breaks between shows.

Australian Open

The firstgrandslam tournament to start the year is here. If you’re a tennis fanatic, you know what I’m talking about. It’s time for another week-long tennis action from the best players in the world. My bet is still on Roger. I wonder if he could beat the defending champion, Rafael Nadal, this year. However, exciting parts of these events includes the upsets and the rising of new tennis stars. I was blown away when Del Potro brought Federer to his knees on last year’s US Open and how Kim Clijsters, a wild card entry, regained her title, despite coming from a two-year retirement; a Cinderella story indeed. I heard Henin Hardene is coming back. Shocking!

UAAP Volleyball Season 72

Round 1 will resume on January 9^th. You can catch them live on Studio 23 and Balls. Too bad they’re not featuring the Men’s Volleyball. But I like watching Women’s Volleyball morebecause of longer rallies. Men’s Volleyball is all about power. Here’s my new favourite player of the season, Charleen Cruz. Isn’t she cute? :P

American Idol Season 9

I have always been a fan of this show and since I am an Ellen fan, I bet this year’s going to be blast. Hehe! I think Ellen’s one of the funniest and lovable TV personalities out there and it would be interesting to know what she could bring to the table to fill Paula’s place (I sure gonna miss her looping comments T_T)

I hope Emily Wynne Hughes would return this season. It broke my heart when she was cut off in Hollywood week. There were rumours that this season is going to be the last due to some allegation that Simon is leaving Idol for good. Hmm. Idol premieres via satellite on January 13 at 6 PM on QTV and StarWorld.

Lost

The final season will air early next month. The Lost series has gained its reputation for being weird or bizarre. No wonder some people don’t watch it. Even a magazine called it the worst television series. I say they just don’t have the intelligence to watch it. Ha-ha! But I don’t blame them. I was cynical of this before. I mean, yeah, it’s about commercial plane that crashed on an island but there’s more to it than entertainment. Brain fuck--Haley use to call this stuff; books, movies, anything that could tease your mind and blow your head off eventually. And because of the nature of this series it’s very hard to talk to someone about it apart from my best friend of course.

Enjoy the New Year everyone!

george bernard shaw once wrote...

"There are two tragedies in life:

One is to lose your heart's desire.

The other is to gain it."

Yes, losing your heart's desire is tragic. But gaining your heart's desire, it's all you can hope for. This year I wished for love. To immerse myself in someone else and to wake a heart, long, afraid to feel. My wish was granted. If having that is tragic, then give me tragedy.

-- Peyton Sawyer

---

This new year, I hope for a courageous heart; a heart that can master all fears; a heart that beats with faith despite of all of the confusion and indecision where it has long been immersed. I hope for a heart that will persevere in search for answers, for freedom, for love. I have lost my heart's desire. It's time to get it back.

15 happy thoughts

1
Marry on a hilltop
I’ve always imagined it happening on a hilltop just before sunrise.

2
Ride the Titanic
And scream “I am the king of the world!”

3
Visit the Louvre
I’m a sucker for artworks and yet I have never been to any art museums.

4
Write a novel
It would be nice to write a story and move someone.

5
Travel back in time
I know I can’t change the past. I guess I just want to remember something. Make sure I won’t miss a thing.

6
Ride a bike
…in the Tuscan countryside. Being in that place is like living inside a dream. I need to learn to ride the bike first, of course, since I have the worst balancing skills in the world.

7
Be a photographer
A picture is a moment frozen in time. It’s like you have a power to stop time for a moment and let people see that moment through your eyes.

8
Draw a graffiti
…on Tree Hill Rivercourt. And play some hoops with Hales.

9
Study at a wizarding school
What’s cooler than riding a broomstick while playing Quidditch? Plus you get to hex people who think you’re a dork.

10
Watch a Josh Groban Concert
He’s probably the one who inspired me to stretch my musical vocal cords and sing in the shower.

11
Hoist the Wimbledon Cup
I wonder what it’s like—kicking Roger Federer’s ass.

12
Listen to tons of music without falling totally asleep
Have you ever experienced laying half awake and half asleep just before the dawn breaks and your head is floating in a colorful abyss of mellow music? Well, you should.

13
Paint a masterpiece
It’s been a while since the last time my hands held a paintbrush. I guess when you stop using what has been given, it just leaves you.

14
Have children (I KNOW!)
And they will be called Lucas and Haley (Of course, I'd still need to consider my wife’s wishes —you know? The one I will marry on that hilltop?)

15
Hang out on the coffin rock again
I remember sitting on it with my bestfriend years ago. And it’s one of those rare moments of clarity wherein you don’t need to think and yet your head is teeming with thoughts. I remember that moment—reclining underneath a green ceiling of leaves permeated by sunlight and the lullaby of rush of water underneath you. And yeah. That’s where I got the name of this blog.

Think happy, guys!

love...in theory

NOTHING STRIVES INSIDE A BROKEN HEART. When the heart gets broken, it turns into a void, a black hole in your chest sucking everything in and eventually spitting it all out. It’s like filling a cracking glass of water. No matter how you try to fill it, water will just keep leaking out. At the end of the day, you’re still empty and hollow and thirsty for something that you think would satiate the need for happiness.

Emptiness compels people to immediately start the search for such things. They could be anything. And when they do find them, they instantly start stuffing themselves, forcing everything in, even those that their hearts don’t really need. Empty people are impatient people. They are so distracted by the pain. They can’t wait to get rid of it. Their minds are stuck on thinking how to purge the heart of such torment, conveniently forgetting the fact that anything kept inside a heart should not be forced—like love. You have to own the right heart to nurture such sublime entity. I can’t imagine offering my heart to someone, all torn and hideous. Can you?

When a heart gets broken, repairs should be made first. Bleeders should be cauterized. Patches should be placed to cover the holes. Cuts should be stitched closed. And then one should let it heal. The healing part takes time but it varies among people because every heart is unique and wounds vary in severity depending on the degree of damage, depth, and hurts one had taken hold. And there are a gazillion ways to break a heart but ironically, only a few to fix it (open heart surgeries excluded).

The healing process is very tricky. Let’s take broken relationships, for example. When one says he had already moved on, there’s a great probability that it’s actually the opposite. The moment one thinks that his feet stands on the grounds of acceptance, that is when he usually finds himself chewing on the first seeds of grief—denial.
The damaged heart deals with a lot of questions, focusing mainly on the experience of pain. Some say the pain doesn’t really go away. You just learn how to live with it eventually. But a healing heart juggles more complex questions. Fear, doubt, frustrations, and phantom hurts swarm the heart forcing it to shut down—a coping mechanism. The heart is strong but it is also as fragile as it is vital.

When can one say his heart is completely healed? There are no infallible ways to know for sure just like discerning the exact point in time when a heart starts to love. In the end it’s still a risk, a gamble. But with a heart intact, filled with the right things, and a love true and inspiring, it’s definitely a risk worth taking.

. . .
This draft is already growing cobwebs so I decided to finally post it. I’m no love doctor so I don’t think it’s wise to trust everything I just said. I do not have right to write a post like this actually given the state of my social life. Just cheesy theories I wanted to share.

twenty three

AND THEN MY BIRTHDAY CAME, with a blast. I was so caught by surprise I almost lost my head. I never expected that a family affair party could go really crazy. For a moment there, it felt like being young again with all those gallons of ice cream and cakes (Thank God there’s no longer a freaking Winnie the Pooh on it!), but no. I am now 23 and it’s curious to think that I have already almost spent half of my life, given that the average lifespan of a common Filipino man dropped down to 50 years old. It makes me wonder how the other half of my life will turn out.

One highlight of the party involved a candle-blowing ceremony with people singing Happy Birthday in chorus (I could feel my face blushing red till the last line of the song). After that, they ‘forced’ me to give a speech. It was really embarrassing. This never happened in my previous birthdays. But it was really nice to hear your family’s and friend’s wishes for you (That I go find myself a girlfriend being the common denominator, well, except for my mother of course! Hehe!). I was really trying to control what I feel because they I know and they know I have a thing for public display of emotion. I am a cryer. :P

Other things I like my birthday this year:

1. 1..I received presents...in cash. Hehe :P

2. 2. Lots of spaghetti (Even though my diet which going smoothly for two weeks was completely destroyed).

3. 3. I got to celebrate it with my family.

4. 4. I was reconnected with my friends. I never expected anyone to greet me a Happy Birthday ever since I became socially dormant for ages. Some may have forgotten but the important thing is that my closest friends still know that I exist, for another year at least.

5. 5. Glad texted. Enough said :P

No emo posts for now. Happy comes rarely for me. Hehe!

vampires, werewolves, and insecure boyfriends

HALES AND I WENT TO THE CINEMAS to watch New Moon. I had no great expectations about the movie because I found the book from which the movie was adapted shallow. I was just curious as to how it would turn out on the big screen; the same reason I watch all those movies based from the novels I’ve read. Plus, my birthday was fast approaching so I figured I’d give my bestfriend a treat.

As expected, the lines for the tickets were ridiculously long and on them were mostly kids, giggling girls, and couples taking advantage of the hype brought by the sensationalized movie phenomena. All girls were wide-eyed and pupils dilated in anticipation for the pale body of Edward Cullen (except Hales of course. She’s on Team Jacob. And I think she got the right team. I mean who would want to make out with a talking cadaver? :P)

1:45 PM—We haven’t had our lunch yet and the movie was about to start at 2:10 PM. After buying the tickets we ate lunch at Chowking. We we’re forced to just shove the food down our throats and swallow or else we would miss the beginning of the movie, given that it was not a free-seating show (Hales was still chewing when we started running towards the cinemas. I hate it when I don’t get to watch the trailers before the show or when I begin a movie at the middle. It destroys the over-allcinematic effect. :P

When we got inside the theater, there were no more decent seats left. The only ones available were on the first row—just a couple of steps from the screen. So we decided to just occupy the center aisle of the theater even though we looked totally stupid, sitting there alone. Well, a hurting back and ass were much better than a severe headache and a stiff neck.

And the film began to roll. As I’ve said, there’s nothing W-O-W about the movie (But the soundtrack's really good! I downloaded it before I went home). I think I enjoyed the people’s reactions more than what were happening infront of me. The highlight was probably this one lady gasping “Oh Shit!” whenever Jacob appeared shirtless on the screen. She sounded torn between whispering and shouting outlout. Hales and I had a great laugh out of it. And when Edward said the magic words “Will you marry me”, the venue suddenly erupted in a unified sighs, shrieks and gigles. Haley and I looked at each other and realized we were so out of place. Let’s get out of here.

Then, Haley’s phone rang. His boyfriend called, inviting her to watch New Moon with him. Then, there was a flash-backward. A faint trace of a love triangle appeared out of nowhere, which shouldn’t be there in the first place. And Haley was once again faced with an old ordeal—How to fake her expressions in watching a movie she’d already seen. I have a bad history with my bestfriend’s boyfriends. All of them seemed to be jealous of me. I can’t still figure out why they’re so insecure of me! Hahaha! I have yet to meet this new guy in her life and I deeply hope that he’s different from the rest. And because I don’t want to place Haley in an impossible position once again—that she needs to choose between a friend and a lover. But most of all, I don’t want to lose her ...again.

“He wants to watch New Moon with me.” she said, a faint trace of worry in her voice.

“Just say ‘Oh Shit!’" I adviced.

pre-halloween scare

THIS IS LUCAS finally having the time to resuscitate this blog. I haven’t been able to update because I voluntarily gave away my laptop in exchange for a portable media player. Well, my Tita needed it more than I do. It’s just frustrating not being able to vomit words straight into a computer. And thoughts easily dissolve into thin air when I attempt to put them into writing using pen and paper. Luckily, I’ll get my laptop back after two months. Besides I have all the time in the world. Oh wait. Time doesn’t exist in my world, does it?


Halloween was still Halloween. I mean it’s always fun to have a family gathering in a cemetery, meet up with friends, and scare people with hideous masks. But ‘fun’ was not the right word to describe what happened the day before Halloween. It was ‘terrifying’. My father was caught up in a bad car accident. He was traversing the length of SLEX, when one of his tires exploded and a bus crashed against his car straight into the driver side. I was at my grandmother’s house when my sister told me the terrible news and added that my father refuses to get medical help insisting just to stay at home. I was suddenly reminded of those exaggerated dramatic scenes in telenovelas where in a protagonist dies in someone’s arms, bleeding, saying his last words. In a flash, I filled a bag with medical supplies I could use and went home.

My mind was racing, moving on a flash-forward, with images so revolting that I felt nauseated. It was one of those moments when I could actually say that I am scared. I couldn’t deny it because I could see it on my own eyes when I looked at the rear view mirror. And once again questions attacked the last remaining part in my head that could make sense of what’s happening. I tried to block them away. I saw years of regret in front of me and billowing unspoken words that had made a gap between me and my father. That was when I said to my self—He can’t die.

I saw the wrecked car as we got near to our destination—severely damaged with an enormous dent that practically bent the car from the middle. A total wreck. No one could’ve survived this. The car finally stopped. Breathe Ron. Clear your head. Don’t panic. As a nurse, trying to save someone’s life is challenging but when someone personally significant to you is involved, it’s a whole different story. It’s very hard to compartmentalize the personal from the professional stuff. But as a medical practitioner, you’re not allowed to panic or make mistake because whoever needs your help, that person's life is at stake. No room for mistakes. And the more reason I got scared. I broke into a run, my heart hammering my throat, and my lungs mimicking a brown bag being used by someone suffering from acute hypercapnia. And then it hit me. How did he manage to go home. Refusing medical help?—that is so stupid?!!!

I arrived at the threshold frustration and fear churning in my gut.

“Ano, Conicks?” I heard my father say my weirdest nick name, with a crooked smile that practically said ‘Whew! That was close.’

Relief rushed over me like cold water in a very hot summer day.

“Akala ko mamatay ka na eh!” I exclaimed feigning the urge to bang my head on a wall. My father survived a car crash with just a few shallow scratches, cuts, and a sprained wrist. I insisted that he get himself checked by a physician. He still refuses till now.

Stupid. We both are.