Sorry excuse For Literature

We can’t have the best of all the world has to give but we try to live the best way we could.
I thought I will not catch my flight. I wanted to scream at the cab driver to step on the gas. I was such in a haste to come over, and after the ordeal, I can’t wait to leave.
I take videos of that dream city. I take pictures. Poor cab driver thought I was a tourist. Hahaha. I wished I were. I wished I hadn’t known this superficial city’s cruelty first hand.
I wish I just see it as any fleeting tourist eyes will: just the sparkling, congested, modern, and sophisticated haven.
I would enjoy siomai, as I had last year. Iced cold beer, whew..
I would still find joy to munch on ate Imelda’s lumpia and all the other lumpias offered along the streets of Sugbo.
The pizzas on the spot are refreshing.
Of course, there would be dear friends I longed to see and meet again.

But here are a list of things I wouldn’t trade hometown for:
I still detest the humid weather, hot, scorching eyes of the sun as it has chosen Cebu to be the recipient of its glare.
The confusing jeepney routes, urg! I take a cab once again.
One will have to leave some cellphones behind if you value your life. For some who sport 2 or more mobiles will survive at their own risks.
It will take forever to go to Colon, or go about Gaisano south, and all the Gaisanos in the downtown area. The normally dry armpits will drip. I swear I wouldn’t even go down there with or without f***ing company under the heat of the sun.

And the company? Oblivious! Im a davaoena. Not a Cebuano for God’s sake. I will not tolerate insensitivity and weirdness if I had a choice. But since the only choice was that!?! Ah well, endure to suffer! Tsk tsk
My friends wonder what character did he harbor. LOLS. One suggested, 100% weirdness. Another noted, ADDICT. Laughter. (and here are the words: BASI ADDICT SIYA, TEH). The last comment was the worst and most hilarious: SALBAHIS na pagkatao. Gibati lang syag tumang ka gwapo!
I would say, BIPOLAR. Extreme shifts of moods. Abnormally elevated moods, swinging from mania to depression. Its symptoms are emotional rollercoaster. Today, in high spirits, tomorrow, no show. Clearly.
So that’s what it is. One minute, your sweetums, next minute he’ll reach for you neck to strangle. Scary.
At least I identified my dilemma to be obsessive and compulsive, classified as being very controllable. (me, justified.haha)

Before my flight was called, I grabbed a quick cup of coffee and 2 puffs of cigarette.
I boarded my plane. Looked about, started taking pictures again.
A few minutes before take off, I just noticed that I am the lone person on my row.
There are 2 rows on each opposite sides and nobody is there except me! Huh! So glum.
Tried to doze off, but the bumpy ride says to fasten the seatbelts and hold on.  “We are experiencing weather disturbances”. Great. And the homeward bound is delayed.
Captain of the ship says, we’ll take another route. Another scary one. Will I live? Or will I not. Hahaha. Paranoia doesn’t sit well with me.

At last, final descent.
“If you have a connecting flight, please listen for further announcements. And if Davao is your final destination, then WELCOME home.”  (or so I heard)
Indeed. Sweet home.

Truly, I left my heart in Cebu last year. And I came home with it.
And the greatest love I could experience? The love of me. (narci mode)
TO:
(jet,love this and scorn at the law I spurned, the laws of pride. sasha, dig, dig deep. hannah, LOLs@me. apple,pout your pretty mouth.)

I didn’t want to be the fool wandering what might have been.

I came for the truth.

Now the truth has been viciously slapped on my face.

It stung. Jarring my rationality.

But yes, I came for the truth.

So starkly honest it stripped me my pride and self-worth.

This is what we get to persistently stand up for love!

I took my last stand this morning.

It’s hysterically a replay of what happened last year.

It’s as usual, a big disappointment!

I am so sorry for hopefully believing.

At this point, I’m so wishing that I hadn’t known it at all.

I came broken, I will return shattered.

Excruciatingly strewn apart.

No longer a fool wondering, a fool just the same!

Immersed deep at work lately, today, took time to touch my keyboards, update my blogs,my music. My life, really.

I’m still a big fan of BAKLA na MARIAH.

This one song that caught my attention, TOUCH MY BODY.
the lyrics are funny, I still fumble on the lyrics now and then, cause Im admittedly bad with the lyrics. As to date, I’d never win even on a training room conducted SINGING BEE.

I hear myself laughing on this particular lines, apt and fitting to our so-called lifestyle:(which is? hahaha, nah, ya don ave to tell me.)

‘Cause if you run your mouth and brag
About this secret rendezvous
I will hunt you down
‘Cause baby I’m up in my bizness
Like a Wendy interview
But this is private
Between you and I

Talking about hot and sizzling sex, oh, yeah, it does really talk about wonderful sex.
and It does titillate my most prurient and not so noble thoughts. I do think im a wee bit sensual than most, or yeah I’m very candidly honest about the subject to care about morality’s norms. Most of the time I shake it off.

Touch my body
Put me on the floor
Wrestle me around
Play with me some more<——-spoon me some more! dang, hot!

Touch my body
Throw me on the bed
I just wanna make you feel
Like you never did.
Touch my body
Let me wrap my thighs
All around your waist
Just a little taste
Touch my body
Know you love my curves
Come on and give me what I deserve
And touch my body.

This is quite entertaining, seriously funny.
And so damn true.
I commend Mariah pulling this one off. Reminding me of a lotsa things.
Somehow, I never quit remembering that these manufacturers put addictive stuffs to a basic commodity as toothpaste.
Yeah, for real. Toothpaste is addictive. Truly. Trust me.

I do feel for the people who dont understand a bit about this posted word salad.

And high fives to those who can..
GUDYAB.. cause I know you like it…too…

the song, I mean.

A decade ago I was asked by someone no half-dear to me to grab hold of a pen and put ink to paper thoughts hoarded in my brain. But I couldnt grasp emotions to back up my words. Group of letters are meager understatement, euphemism, even. Its there in the back end of those neurons & axons & nerve receptors and what-have-you’s.

Im devoid of emotions, stripped of off passion, incapable of feelings. Yet, those same things drive me.

I am slave of emotion. For a passionate creature as I am, I cannot claim oblivion.

I have become too much aware of the peach coverlet that lay before me and the peach pillow case that had come cheaply from a thrift store. I am now grimly noticing that I have been dislocated away from my comfort zone. Yes, very much like a sticking plaster tearing slowly from a wound.

Remembered the time when the norms compelled one to conform with, do the things activities you swore not to have anything to do with and have come to love ideas that you detest plainly.

I laugh at the eccentricities of the human nature. Find humor in my own demise. I taste acid cynism in my own mouth of the irony working with other people’s minds, at the same time have the grace to embrace the logicality and illogicality of my own.

How I take it with sanity/insanity intact, beats the hell out of me.

I heave a well-deserved sigh and wondered how I was made out of stronger stock that should a faux pas makes its presence known, I try to be the handyman. What the heck if my ill luck cant do it, I roll back my eyes and tab it to reality’s credit bill.

Comrades, I bow to your accuracy. I am guilty of sensitivity and the lack of it, and added to the pet peeves you tagged on me. I am shameless of it, proud even.

Try to dig me.

Have I just been to comfy in my comfort zone? Is it desolation? I have racked my brain for countless semantics.

Yet, I remain in futile attempts to speak my heart.

You pulled the plug and water came running down from inside my soul’s house, through windows you need not pry open to get something from her (for she would’ve opened the door for you easily, if only you’d ask).

I ran away, with numb fingers and cold toes… I wondered why I felt blown up by the fire in your words when the time bomb in me never did explode. It still ticked, with the same rhythm I once said your name with. Maybe it is because I felt so much like wood that is ready to burn - dry, numb, still. I am thankful that water flowed out of me, cooling down my cheeks.

Though it also felt like acid burning my skin.

Time will draw the line between love and passion, enduring love and painstaking wait… If he is lost, he can look. Maybe, just maybe, he would still find her. Time after time.

“Te, tagi tag kugmo be” he said.

First thing that entered my mind, hindi ko siya kapatid. I never had a
sibling, oh ok, an adopted one, maybe. It was the first time I saw him; It just
so happened that I was beside him on a jeep going home. Kung akala niya, nadadala
ako sa pa-“Ate, ate” ng mga taong hindi ko kilala, He’s dead wrong. Secondly,
sa pagkakaalam ko, ang kugmerts ay sinusungkit mula sa ilong upang ipahid sa
ilalim ng mesa, idikit sa pader, iipit sa panyo, lunurin sa lababo o itapon sa
basurahan, o ipahid sa ibang tao. Hindi ipinapamigay ang kugmo. At pangatlo,
sakaling nahihingi man ang kulangot, bakit ko naman ibibigay ang kulangot ko sa
kanya? Habang nakasakay sa jeep kasama ang humigit-kumulang benteng pasahero?

“Wala koy kulangot!.”

“Naa uy!. Bag o lang nako gi silip! Dali! Tagi nako!”

Napakabastos naman nitong batang ito, sa huna huna lang nako.

“Ingnag wala! Asa man diay imong mama?”

The question was mixed with threat, so that, masaag ang storya ug maka
pahuway sa bintana para matulog.

“Wala koy mama. Ug wala sad koy papa. Nikalit lang kog butho sa kalibutan.”(Imagine?)

Gaaaaad. Kawawa naman ang batang ito; wala pang sampung taon, mukha nang
takas ng psychiatry ward. Manghihingi ng kulangot, pagkatapos, sasabihing
sumulpot na lang na parang kabute. Dili na nako ipangutana ug unsa iyang pangalan kay basi tubagon kog “Jesus Christ”  ug basi di nako makaya.

“Boy,” hinawakan ko ang kanyang ulo at and made him lean back to the seat,
“Ang mayo pa, matulog na lang ka. Basig madamguhan nimo nga dili ginapangayo ang
kulangot ug duli gina magic ang pagbuhat sa mga bata.”

“Hmp, dalo!,” ingon niya with matching ismid .

O, huwag nang patulan, gi ingnan nako ako sarili. Bata yan
aawayin mo,nurse ka pa naman. Asa na imong psychia? Itulog na lang na..

Naminaw ug sounds ang nanlimos ng kulangot.

Gi kabit nako ang baon nako earphones ug mp3. Ginakanta sa Hoobastank ang
“I’m not a perrr-fect perrr-son….”

Gi piyong nako ako mga mata.

Gi pukaw na lang ko sa kundoktor.

“Miss, asa ka?”

Ang konduktor, naniningil ug pamasahe.

“Toril, gikan downtown..Studyante.”

Kuha na kog sinsilyo sa akong bulsa. “ Kinsa diay mag bayad ani?” hunghong
nako sabay tudlo sa akong baba sa katapad nako nga nakatulog sad diay

“kana? Wala nay bayad,” tubag siya pag duhol sa ako sinsilyo.

“Ngano?”

Ni balhin na man sa pikas na lingkuranan sa pasahero.

“Wala man jud koy bayad!!”

Ay mata man diay ang hungog.

“Saman? Tagan nako nimog kugmo?”

Kung nahitabo nga naa koy dalang baril, siguro naka tutok na to sa buslot sa
ako ilong.

Para lang sa walang
kakwenta-kwentang kugmo na gikan sa ako sip on ug sa abog sa akong lair!

“Kadali lang daw be, seryosong pangutana ug kailangan nako sad ug seryosong
tubag. Ga init ulo nako sa mga pilosopo.”

“Tapos, ‘pag tubagon nako imo pangutana, tagan nako nimog kugmo? Yehey!”

“Unsaon man diay nimo akong kugmo?”

Kanang panahuna, naghulat na lang jud ko nga musyagit siyag “Wow! Mali!”
o diba “Yari ka!” ug pagkahuman, itudlo sa ako ang kamera nga nakatago sa
basket na naa sa pikas lingkuranan.

“Wala lang. Nangolekta lang ko ug kugmo.”

Uh-oh. Oras na para mutawag sa mental.

“Ngek, nganong di na lang ka mang hingugmo tibuok adlaw, hapon pati gabii?”

“Gusto nako ang kugmo sa lain.”

“Ha? Unsaon man daw nimo ang kulangot sa uban?”

“Gina kolekta gani nako! Samuka nimo te uy!!”

Ug ako pa daw ang samok. Ma irok man jud nako ni ba!

“Ngano gani! Unsaon nimo ang kugmo sa ubang tao?” Nakakunot na ako agtang. Wa
na jud ko malipay. As in.

“Wala lang.”

Weirdo. Mas gustohon pa nako ang ma biktima sa practical joke show kaysa
makiglalis ning bataa ni.

“Di na pwedeng wala lang. Di pwede nga walay hinungdan.”

“Ngano man daw dili?”

“Ing ana gyud na pag nag tiguwang nato. Dili pwede ‘wala lang’ kay ang tanang
butang, naay hinungdan. Tanan nga nahitabo. Ug tanan nga wala nahitabo.Tanan
nga kalipay, tanan nga kasubo. Tanan nga kakapoy. Tanan nga sakripisyo. Tanan nga
makalimtan. Tanan nga mausab, tanan nga buhi. Tanan nga naay sakit, tanan nga
namatay. Maski ning akong kugmo, naa na siyay hinungdan nganong naa na sa ako
ilong, ug wala sa imong kamot.

“Kung mu edad na ka, lisod dawaton nga ang tanan panghitabo ‘wala lang’ ang
hinungdan. Na tanan imong gi pang sakripisyuhan sa adlaw adlaw walay rason,ug
pag kahuman, wala ray pulos. Mura ra sad imong gi angkon sa imong sarili nga
wala kay pulos. Kasabot ba ka sa akoa, ta?”

Tulala ang bata.

Isa. Duha. Tulo. Upat.

Lima.

Unom. Pito. Walo. Siyam. Pul-….

“Kamaldita nimo uy! Dalo pa ka, maldita pa gyud. May pa tung katapad nakong
babae ganiha, gihatagan dayon kog kugmo.Wala nay “ngano, ngano!’”

Grrrr. Hay ka peste!

“EH DI SA IYA KA MANGAYO! DILI SA AKO!!”

Abi nako, mapahilak nako ang bata nga
way inahan ug amahan. Nagkataon, kauwaw sa ubang pasahero!.

Pero wala siya mihilak. Nitindog nuon siya ug nag andam kay manaog. Gi ayo
ang iyang nakum-ot na sanina ug ni atubang sa ako.Gi tutukan ko niya sa mata,ug
ni ingon “Kabalo ka te,tung babae ganiha nga nag hatag sa ako ug kugmo, mas malipayon
kaysa sa imo.”

Tawag niya ang konduktor. Pa undang niya ang jeep ug dali-dali ni naog.

Si Ate?

Tulala.

Isa. Duha. Tulo.

Upat.

Lima

.
Unom.

Pito. Walo. Siyam.

Pulo….

Tagam ko.

I bump into by chance with a friend of old,
"G’day, hey, how are you?"…

I suffer a sense of death hovering on me.
Mounted up disappointments pull at my strength.
Faultless moments appear so rare through the haze.
I am uncertain how much longer life will hold me.
I don’t want to end.
The thought of what that will do to my little hearts…
I don’t want to leave them.
But my light fades daily.
My energy for living and fighting is so bled dry
Not just through sadness or loneliness.
But the disappointment.
The unending disillusionment.
The sense of unfulfilled would-be’s.
Talents meaning little and appreciated by few.
I think I can feel myself dying.

Yet I shrug down this reality, to grin,
"Ah, not too bad, you know… keeping out of trouble…"
And thus satiated by pleasantries,
we depart with warm smiles and kind nods.

And I think I feel myself dying.

There’s an old song with one line that plays in my mind as I play with pens and paper again: "It seems to me that there are more hearts broken in this world that cant be mended - left unattended. What do we do, what do we do?"
    It’s one of the saddest songs I know. It makes me think of all the people hurting that way. Unmended. Left unattended. I think maybe as feeling creatures, we ought to be more sensitive.
    Imagine this particular situation for example: I got stuck in an elevator. Nope, no brownout. The elevator simply conked out. I hit the emergency alarm, but it didnt make a sound. So, there I was, stuck between floors. From a thin slit on the door, I could see people passing, walking in and out of offices. I tried yelling for help. I tried pounding on the door, but no one heard me. I tried forcing the door open, but each time I got so much of a millimeter open, it would slam shut again! I finally got out because I used my steel hair chopstick to pry it open. It was frightening and sad because no help came.
    I suppose that’s how life can get sometimes.
    I remember now a few people I know choose suicide. It’s not for me to expiate for them. I’m just thinking - that’s what probably happened to them.. Maybe they got "stuck between floors". Maybe they yelled and panicked. Imagine their disillusion and despair at seeing their friends too busy and oblivious. Have you ever felt that way? I have. When people say things that necessitate promises, only few really mean it.
    "…seems to me that there are more hearts broken in this world that can’t be mended… left unattended."   
    There are so many broken people around us. So many "stuck between floors".

*euphemistically altered rhetorics*

Don’t date because you are desperate.
Don’t marry because you are miserable.
Don’t have kids because you think your genes are superior.
Don’t philander because you think you are irresistible.

Don’t associate with people you can’t trust.

                    Don’t cheat. Don’t lie. Don’t pretend.

Don’t dictate because you are smarter.
Don’t demand because you are stronger.

Don’t sleep around because you think you are old enough and know better.

Don’t hurt your kids because loving them is harder.
Don’t sell yourself, your family, or your ideals.
Don’t stagnate.

Don’t regress.

                    Don’t live in the past. Time can’t bring anything or anyone back.

Don’t put your life on hold for possibly Mr/Mrs Right.
Don’t throw your life away on absolutely Mr. Wrong because your biological clock is ticking.

Learn a new skill.
Find a new friend.
Start a new career.

                    Sometimes, there is no race to be won. Only a price to be paid for some of life’s more hasty decisions.

To terminate your loneliness, reach out to the homeless.
To feed your nurturing instincts, care for the needy.
To fulfill your parenting fantasies, get a puppy.
Don’t bring another life into this world for all the wrong reasons.

To make yourself happy, pursue your passions and be the best of what you can be.
Simplify your life. Take away the clutter.
Get rid of destructive elements: abusive friends, nasty habits, and dangerous liaisons.
Don’t abandon your responsibilities but don’t overdose on duty.

Don’t live life recklessly without thought and feeling for your family.
Be true to yourself.

                    Don’t commit when you are not ready, but

Don’t keep others waiting needlessly.
Go on that trip. Don’t postpone it.
Say those words. Don’t let the moment pass.

                    Do what you have to, even at society’s scorn.

Write poetry.
Love Deeply.
Walk barefoot.
Kiss a lot.

                        Dance with wild abandon.

Cry at the movies.

Take care of yourself.
Don’t wait for someone to take care of you.
You light up your life.

It is true that life does not get easier with age. It only gets more challenging.
Don’t give up. Don’t be afraid. Don’t lose your capacity to love.
Pursue your passions.

Live your dreams.
Don’t grow old.

                             Just grow YOU.

FAKE FRiENDS: Never ask for food. REAl FRiENDS: are the reason you have no food. FAKE FRiENDS: Call your parents Mr/Mrs REAl FRiENDS: Call your parents DAD/MOM FAKE FRiENDS: bail you out of jail and tell you what you did was wrong. REAl FRiENDS: Would sit next to you sayin "Damn … we fucked up … but that shit was fun!"
FAKE FRiENDS: never seen you cry. REAl FRiENDS: cry with you
FAKE FRiENDS: Borrow your stuff for a few days then give it back. REAl FRiENDS: keep your shit so long they forget its yours.
FAKE FRiENDS: know a few things about you. REAl FRiENDS: Could write a book about you with direct quotes from you.
FAKE FRiENDS: Will leave you behind if that is what the crowd is doing. REAl FRiENDS: Will kick the whole crowds ass that left you.
FAKE FRiENDS: Would knock on your front door. REAl FRiENDS: Walk right in and say "I’M HOME!"
FAKE FRiENDS: Are for awhile. REAl FRiENDS: Are for life.
FAKE FRiENDS: Will take your drink away when they think you’ve had enough.  REAl FRiENDS: Will look at you stumbling all over the place and say "Bitch drink the rest of that you know we don’t waste shit."
FAKE FRiENDS: will talk shit to the person who talks shit about you. REAl FRiENDS: Will knock them all out