Do not go gentle into that good night

Do not go gentle into that good night, 
Old age should burn and rave at close of day; 
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. 

Though wise men at their end know dark is right, 
Because their words had forked no lightning they 
Do not go gentle into that good night. 

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright 
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. 

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, 
they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night. 
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight 

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, 
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. 
And you, my father, there on the sad height, 

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. 
Do not go gentle into that good night. 
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. 


--dylan thomas

Hikaru. Gratitude.

Hikaru, 

       Hi, again, I just wanna say, Happy New Year to you! It may seem like its embarrassing to be writing a letter for you publicly, but this is one way to show my appreciation for you. For one year, we had been together. And in that one year, I have learned so many countless things from you. I became a stronger person because of you, my mind became clearer and my dreams became something that I wanted to achieve. I have learned loyalty and real love with you. I felt so much kindness yet I also felt real sadness, but that is normal when it comes to love. 

      Thank you for always taking care of me, for always pushing me to the safer side of the road! I have loved you, and I think I always will. No matter what, I will support you, whatever your decisions in life, I will be here to tell you the things you need to hear. 

     

      I continually am interested in Japan, and in your world. I have become a part of it, with that, I am happy. I wanted to write this letter, while my feelings are still fresh and real. Because writing frees me, then I wanna free my heart, and share to the world this love I only feel for you. I think it is the best time to say my feelings. 

 Continue to be the light in the lives of other people. You are one of the brightest lights in my life that will

so continually sparkle. 

With love,

Jahnina

Dirty Dream

   
        I dreamt about my teeth falling out just this morning. I woke up crying because of the terrifying realistic vivid images my dream has left me to reimagine with. My hands were clenched into fists because in my dream, I desperately held my fallen teeth, (2 teeth to be exact). I saw my hands and they ached because of the force I used to protect my teeth. I cried for my mom twice and she came to my rescue. Due to her obsession with superstitions, I was immediately asked to bite a piece of wood while tears rushed out of my eyes. Apparently, in our culture, this meant that there's an impending death of a someone we know. I forced myself to carefully bite our furniture's arm rest on my knees.

I researched about this dream. And often it would tell me that I have some insecurities with the way I look, or I just ended a relationship, or the fear of getting a new job, pretty much transitional stuff about this. And also one way of interpreting your own dreams is that, try to imagine the emotion you felt in your dream, and look for situations in your life wherein you felt the same way.

So, my fear of my teeth falling out's emotion is total anxiety and helplessness might be connected to my weight gain, getting a new job and being far from the person i love.

Actually, I dreamt twice about teeth falling out. But the last one is a level higher in intensity. It felt more real and painful. More vivid and disturbing.

Must be the story of my life.

Under elevated shrubs.

I have no desire to talk, or listen. For just a couple of days, I cease to remain interested in the things that would have normally made me enthusiastic. I cringe at the thought of sharing my latest heartache to the people who know me a lot. I'm afraid I will break down.

But being messaged that I have a possibility of getting a job thrills me more than what I appear to be. I will try to live frugally and honestly, never hurt anyone, not start another relationship that will cause someone's heart to break.

We all just needed some break time.

One person told me, we should smile at the endless possibilities of the future. And I do understood what he meant, for it was all that I'd have to have when the war time comes for all the lonely people.

Shoreless

Scary Trivia #1- I'm scared of uninhabited islands. With shitload of monkeys in it.

There's so much more to see.

Thai food

I ate so much in Thailand i actually pooped at the Suvarnabhumi airport when i arrived and when i had my departure for the Philippines. I also pooped 4 times on my first day there and i really loved the food soooo freakin much. I need to get back to Thailand, eat some more.

I realized the good points of the Filipinos. I also saw the bad ones.

Filipinos do smile more all the time. And it makes me proud.

Nail Polish

I have done something terrible.
I was tempted and a little misinformed.
A little greedy, maybe even a little evil.

I put my hands inside the plastic bag with
her name on it, then I grabbed what wasn't mine,
and switched them with mine that I thought don't
suit me.

She called. Hell, I had to lie. She knew,
and everybody did.

It was a total shame,
I regret it.
I even replayed the scenario, just wishing
that it was better to have left the things
the way they were.

I have looked down on myself,
I am not a saint, i wasn't perfect
I was a thief at some point,
and I am no different.

I have hurt her feelings.
And I am just soo damn sorry for
everything that was today.

I can't stop thinking about you.

I started to sing your songs when I was 16, and I didn't know the tragedy of a man I so admired. Why do I have to fall inlove with such a man of talent? So far and so unreachable, this is a frustration I can't quite shake off my existence. Meanwhile, I do believe that you and I will grow old together, and I will make sure that my children will know of your greatness and yes, your amazing vocal range! Well anyway, jeff, if ever you visit earth, can you visit me? Lets have wine and pasta together, or go to a burger joint that has an essence of the past, or a diner, preferably a 90's diner. Which will sickeningly remind me of you, that you are dead, an angel that fell on the ears of the millions of a few selected people. Exclusively in on your secrets, your life. We are one behind you. We oftentimes think about you, share your death stories to people who don't know you, your songs will be sung for centuries, I know so. I am very sure, for I will be the one singing them, lullabies for my children, even though they might be multicultural. Anyway, your voice is the sex, the body and the soul of my current vision of life, sad, a little nostalgic but forever 90's. Jeff Buckley, we could be so happy baby.

Human Interactions

Millions of people are seeking ways to forget what is painful for them the most.

They try to suppress their feelings of loneliness, longing and painful love.

But what is very surprising though, that many folks can get along without all that pain.

Especially me, I am giving my time to forget about love that is forgotten. I would love to focus my energy 

on the people who care about me, because I matter to them. My presence somehow makes them feel better.

But if I have no use to those other people. then fuck it and forget it. Unconditional love is not ready for me yet, I ain't a fucked up virgin mary or a mother of any kind, not knowing this unconditional love. And I move on pretty quick. Give me an hour and I am great.

Its better to be selfish I guess.

I have been almost 3 months unemployed and that really cannot get to me yet. It is so unreal. I feel excited to go to work but how would I deal with a new life with new people? Other people irritate me nowadays. I don't feel like going out, I am literally loving the bed, sleeping and exercising, cooking and eating and having tea, and having snacks and watching endless movies, my god, isn't that such a great cozy comfortable life?

And half heartedly happy without you motherfucker.

Ciao lovebunny. Go on and fuck yourself.

As A Nation

The Philippines.

We are nation of angry people. We are those that detest art that we think is detrimental to our spirituality. We protest on national establishments to show our disgust to those whoever we wish to direct our anger to. We spit, we burn everything but bibles to show we hate Lady Gaga or The Killers. We admire our own artists after they were only admired by the international press.

We bully, we fight, we cripple those who we think are unrighteous. We will grill Korina Sanchez until she learns how to cry herself to sleep. We will make Noynoy Aquino’s last strands of hair fall out because of our constant criticisms of his government. We glorify churches that cripple our right to sexuality education.

We are a country of extremes.

And then there are those who sit back, relax, and just enjoy all of these goddamn shows. 

Blame It on the Blackstar

       She saw the outline of his body against the light the hotel room emitted. His shirt strewn across the floor, and some packets of a popular rubber brand on the side table of their rented room. He was sleeping soundly, and she could hear the faint sound of the hotel staff outside, and it was already 3am. She was still awake, and she marveled at this man's being. She thought, that foreign love, is a difficult thing to do. She remembered their conversation last night, that they had finally admitted to themselves that this love they think they have wasn't real, while beer was on their lips, and an atmosphere of total surrealism. 

     Maybe the magnitude of their love was too much for them that they they felt sick at the pleasure they were having, just seeing each other, just kissing each other whenever they had a chance. In the jeepney, you know in the 3:00ams of their 7-11 coffee breaks, during conversations that stopped only to grab the minute to feel each other again through their lips. Reminding themselves that everywhere they went were public places. And she remembered how he took her hands and kissed them under the white lights of that nostalgic convenience store, she smelled brewed coffee on his breath, and she longed for it too.

     She felt, that in the longest of all the longest times, she had met one of the most beautiful men on the planet. There was a lullaby that was set deep in her heart only to be awoken by this man she had met three months ago. The whole world, she believed, was right then and there in the hotel room. The beautiful belt that she took off of his pants, and his shirt from Cambodia showing the letters of their alphabet, his hair that she gently touched, his whole idea, his whole existence meant the world to her. She was lost yet secure in this man's heart, for she knew that she will never come across any man like him ever again. She was ever so sure of herself that she wanted to marry this man, if he ever proposed. 

     He said all the right words, she felt that his words were carved out only for her. She imagined a life with him, and it must be so damn delicious to be with this man, laughter was everywhere, they were freakishly careless, though he was 10 years her senior. They were like kids that roamed Angeles City at the early mornings, no one was there. Only a few people to witness their escape from prying eyes. 

    So this man, on the bed with her, she saw his calm existence in the form of his sleep, and she thought to herself that this man doesn't deserve to be hurt by anyone. He was the purest she has ever seen in her life, unlike her, so young and yet so poisoned by the darkness in her life that she wishes to hide. The steady rhythm of his breathing slowly pulled her back to sleep.

She loves him. She does. 

PEPERO LOVE.

I can't stop thinking about this chocolate.
Because one early morning, I saw a man eating eat.
I felt hungry. And I also felt pain in my heart.

I thought the man was like chocolate.
So sweet and yet so unique.
When you consume this chocolate,
it will finish.
Just like this man, when you consume this man
into your thoughts, this man and you, will
finish soon.

I still connect this chocolate to that lovely early morning.
I suddenly miss 7-11, where I bought this.
Oh dear God, give me chocolate.

It's About Time I Admit That I am Stupid

       (Face the fuck out of your fears.)

        I  just realized that you cannot expect the good things in life to be achieved through a shortcut.
Especially if you have pride and and dignity.

Like for example, yes you may have a glittering personality, such good looks, with a good sense of humour, or you are maybe so popular among your peers and your acquaintances, but that, won't really get you anywhere if you didn't use your brain. Your brain was there for a reason, I think a powerful entity to have created us with a brain wanted us to figure out the world by ourselves, otherwise if that entity would have just wanted us to follow things automatically, a brain would be useless.

It really bothers me, that there is a possibility for women and even men to get around life dependent on a rich partner, a rich husband or a rich wife. I cannot fathom this, I do not want to become like this because I have this pride that just bothers me all the time. I cannot let this happen, but under certain circumstances, I find myself always inclined to be lent or given some big amount of money without me asking them. What power is that? What sort of actions that led to this mystery? Is it the fault of their raging hormones?(for specific circumstances Or is it just their genuine kindness that they see me like they have to support me? Do they see an investment in me or am I projecting some sort of atmosphere unto them that I in fact, need some cash? Or does it painfully qualify as gold digging?

For all these people who have supported me financially, so especially, I want to tell you that I want to return all the kindness that you have shown and given me, I do wanna keep this promise and I want to do all good things for you too. I feel the world is giving me such endless possibilities with your money that I sometimes cannot stomach the special treatment. I cannot take it sometimes, it is so uncomfortable to be talking about money, even holding it. I dread it. I really do. In the context of it not being mine.

I feel stupid with money and the lack of it.

I have this dream, to be super rich and then treat all those people to grand vacations because I have felt so much joy and happiness when they saw the misfortune I was going through. Or they saw that, I needed to have some sort of fun with them but not having the cash to do that, they decided to tell me, it is all on them. Right now, all I can give are promises, that will take a long time for me to accomplish. But I hope to gain pride and dignity to help me reach my goals.

----

When it was November 2, maybe 9 days ago. It was my birthday, I was expecting myself to arrive at a resolution, or a new point of view about myself. Thinking how do you improve more, you know some deep random rubble I was going through, my expectations were so high upon myself hoping I can solve this mystery that I am. I started to ask painful questions about myself, my fears, even my shortcomings I needed to face. I invite you to ask these yourself too. Here are the sample questions:

1. Have I hurt somebody?
2. Have I been reckless?
3. Am I not really so sophisticated after all?
4. What are the things I'm afraid of happening?
5. How is my spiritual life?
6. Have I been constantly feeding myself of the information that I am ok?
    not necessarily needing any improvement?
7. Is facebook really damaging, or is it just me that looks at it that way? (applicable to anything)
8. Have I been constantly feeding myself of the information that I am not ok?
    not deserving of any love?
9. Don't I need to change my points of view about certain issues like, purity having to matter in a relationship, or the importance of being loyal to your partner, or what are the compromises do I have to do?
10. Am I ready to accept criticisms almost about everything?
11. What are the things that I am afraid or ready to leave?

These questions are so painful, that after so many days after my birthday, I realize how wrong my principles were for the past couple of months. I had been lost on the road, I didn't know where to go, or what am I going somewhere for? What my purpose was, I was shocked to know my mistakes.
My wrong decisions, the illusion that I am fine, looked up to, or even admired. These aren't real.

Bottom line is we need to accept our mistakes and our weaknesses. The criticisms and the painful words of people to us may be the most honest and the best thing that could ever happen to the improvement of our lives.

That compliments can put our spirits up, yes, but it also invites us to a comfortable zone that we are afraid to leave. Thus giving us the illusion that we are not in need of any upgrading. It is sick, to be put in this place where you think you are glorified by the number of "likes" in your pictures, or how many people are attracted to you, in the long run you will tend to think the whole sum of your existence is ok. But generally, I always think that whoever the hell you are, you might need a little levelling up to do. right?

Being honest to yourself is a hard thing to do, some people don't even know how to start.
Challenge is not how we face tomorrow.

Question is how do we face the next minute of our existence by baring our souls to the mirror?


(I would gladly accept comments and conversations about this article. If you have questions, please feel free to message me. I am interested in your opinion. Cheers!)

The Problem With Distance

I can't wait to see you, in another plane of existence.
We will escape the lands we think we know.
We will hold hands in the sun rays of a different convergence.
I will seek your breath to consume the warmth to extinguish the cold
of the air.
I will forever cherish the romance we think we have.
Or to cherish the love we strive to have.
We will annihilate the distance of our countries.
Regain the romance so short that we had.
To wear thick boots to tread on dangerous routes to the top.

I wanna see yellow sand with you.

I'm such a fucking realistic romantic.

Some idle time causes my mind to wander about clothes.

       Age comes with the initiative for one to dress well. When I was a teenager, it never crossed my mind to dress formally, or dress for success. But now, I have caught myself in the obsession to look well for a job, or wherever  I go. When I was 15 or something, I described style as "trash." Well basically, I never had thought about buying expensive clothes that time.

      But now, I am even considering the reason behind why clothes are expensive and why people should even buy them.
       I find great traces of my teenage inclinations in my fashion style now, but slowly they are fading. Now, I am trying to consider this important part of me about dressing up for me. Fashion is important to me at some specific moments. But at times, I am just so totally carefree.

I even went around in a shirt, with a pair of denimshorts and without a bra. And its amazing how I even managed to feel good about that.

I wore fishnet stockings, a denim sleeveless top, high heeled boots and a grungy hairstyle on my graduation day. I looked like I was looking for a great fight with anyone who would want to question or raise any eyebrow about my attire. And I liked it!

      Sometimes, my fashion is totally reckless and so bad.

Anyway.

Gotta think of something more relevant to write about. Hahaha

November delight

If we meet again. If. If.

tsh. 

Sucks. It fkin does.

ruff draft of a life widout electric cables

It was weird. For 10 years i had kept seeing this big old mango tree, and 2days ago. This tree was chopped to pieces because it fell lifeless on the road. Blocking traffic.

Tarlac was so hard hit there hasnt been wifi and electricity for a week. It was so
Highly saddening because people had to go primitive.

Now, we have to fight to regain the dignity and the valor of our town.

Tarlac is my new home, so i need to contribute to this town.

Lately, earthquakes, storms, destruction and corruption! Man, lets fight the fight!

Bangon Pilipinas! Hindi kailanman hahayaang matinag ang diwa!

Pigs for Eating

Thirteen years ago, a girl was hiding inside a room. It was very bright outside, in fact, nothing was ever to be scared of at that time. (At least, for the standards of her culture). She was hiding possibly from the a noise so distinct, a noise that she could hear every 2nd Sunday of October.  Every 2nd Sunday of October, they are usually having what they call a "Fiesta." This type of celebration is like an eating festival! You'd kill a lot of animals, you'd slice a lot of veggies, hear a lot of stories from the people who help cook for the Fiesta. 

But, this girl, at that moment, forgot all about those things. All she ever cared about were the screams she were hiding from. She was so shittingly scared, the screams she could hear were like screams from hell. It was total chaos in her mind. 

----

Last year, her grandma would ask her to buy some Pig Feed. You know what those are? Those are feeds for them pigs. She would happily buy a plastic bag of them and she would go behind the house to give the pig a cup of feed to eat. 

Then, strangely, she'd develop a liking for her newfound pet. She named this pig, "Naruto." Cause at that time, that Japanese Anime was so popular she must have wanted to fashion herself into a ninja. 

She always talked to Naruto, told the pig many things about her school, about many many strange things. 

-----

So, that 2nd Sunday of that October, 13 years ago. She heard the screams of Naruto. She knew from it's cries that it was being pulled so violently by the neck. Her old folks used a rope to tie the pig to the roasting pen. The hell of a sound, it was like 10,000 babies screaming for help. 

And all she could do was to cover her ears with her helpless, useless fuckin hands.

----

She loved that goddamn pig. 

She heard the last battlecry for life of the pig just before it was hit by a loud, unforgiving smash to it's head by a construction hammer.

Gotten my bike fixed

I decided to move to tarlac after a few days. So i decided that having my bike fixed, id tour angeles for some last rounds before id move.

Yesterday, my bike was fixed and it was refixed again today, cause the bike chain seemed to be a little loose.

one person told me that angeles is not a good town for me.

i guess its true. i believe him, it is true, somehow.

but yesterday, people rushed in to help me with my bike chain. they got their hands greasy just because they wanted to help me. it changed my mind that angeles is still a good town, i suppose.

i saw some incredibly strange things, good people, even some shops hidden around angeles! its a fuckin treasure, this city is. i grew up here for like 17 years, but my mind has never opened like this.

angeles can be good at times, it can also be detrimental.

so i guess, its time to move on.

to anticipate is exciting me.

all i have is excitement and calm.

im gonna go back to my birthplace.

Potentially Subject to the Purpose of Adhesive

Let me tell you some'in

I saw them pieces ev your heart on er streets a while ago

Bud, a' first i never really thought them was yours

So, i tried te pick those pieces of the things i thought were from

your heart, 

id wuz all crazy from the pain it gave me, they were sharp,

them wuz also blunt in some parts

twas all damn bloody iv yer ask me,

with red, metallic- smellin pieces

them were all on that goddamn road.

Sor, many people tried to tell me it aint no use 

to pick them bloody things from that dirty icky road,

many people have stepped on em like it wuz all fuck'n trash

nobody cared az if this heart was nobody's child

sor i fuckin picked em up like a dint hear them blunt motherfuckers

i cared only for this poor poor heart, that i thought were yours

i brought this shitty lookin pieces near my nose

and ar smelled some'n so familiar, it smelled like the perfume of somebody's

first boyfriend, and d cigarettes of em somebody somebody used ta smoke

in and around a girl, n' prolly the cum, them saliva and the breath of

somebody's somebody's sex long time ago.

sor it warsnt so bad, that smell was even some'n i liked.

it felt like i fuckin despised myself af'er i smelled it, 

sor, i put them pieces of this heart inside my tight pocket

blood spread'n like a big bloodstain on my pants

az i warlked and warlked, i felt so much pain in my chest

each step i ever taken da night wuz nostalgia, were memories

i realized, them was no fuckin pieces of yer heart

them pieces were all fuckin mine.

it wuz about time i'd glue them all back in one goddamn piece.

possibly done.

it's funny. it is as if i don't know this man.
he is like from a different dimension.

we spent a lot of time together, but i think i don't know him at all.

that is truly strange.
i am fascinated by his neglect.
i'll fascinate you with my own devil baby.

High Time

Good God. This is how it feels to have some sense knocked into me again. When everything I say seemed to be wrong, and knowing gradually, that the other person is probably more right.

Well, all this conversation over coffee.

I haven't had coffee in a while due to some mysterious absence of a person that I recently had been having coffee with.

You know. That kind of sense, that I am wrong, and the other person is right.

To tell you the truth, that's fucking enlightening.

And right now, I need some fucking light into my own perpetual self-made darkness.

I guess, it's nobody's fault. But damn it felt good to be subjected into the fiery truth against all your beliefs.

With all the shit, you just needed coffee to rethink all of it.

High Time.

About time I'd get my life straight as a fucking high end ruler.

Mind. is. freedom.

The mind is free.
The mind is still the most powerful
Thing that could ever be.
It brightens a horizon that's bleak
It strengthens a soul that's weak.

So, in hopelessness and in misery
We continue to survive and believe
There is power in hopes and dreams
And freedom in struggle to seek.

Midori Man

Its funny, you see. That there is love beneath the shits
of this world full of hate, but to feel the skin and grin
when you see the depth, of his eyes, his eyes form
a lovely truth, by women, that is sought and thought of.

So you see, it seems that the shirt you gave the one
with wings, if at all protected me without the sun
damn twas cold, so you see, you told me you saw
my eyes that were deep, but i know i saw some soul

Beneath the shits of that event, we got scared we dreamt
of the cave didnt we, maybe everybody saw the cracks lit
when they slept and closed their eyes in that cave of both
the living and for the dead, but you gave me a cloth

that surrounded my shivering body, midori midori please
i saw you, until your eyes become black with fancy
of the beauty you said you saw in my eyes, for i wonder
is this love with that shirt, with the hands or the question

when you said, "are you cold?" , "yes baby" i wanted
to say, i was cold, damn cold to shiver, sorry to burden
you, no your shirt, no need to worry it smelled good
like freshly picked flowers in an urban city, you stood

Out among the pretentious people, you are cute
you are shy, you cant at all kiss me goodbye, mute
we were when we hold hands, your denim denim
denim colored shirt is my favorite, a lullaby a hymn

an unsolved mystery for those who are loved and inlove
there is love beneath the shits, the bat shit to be exact,
midori midori my midori man, your hands are rough
but your heart is not, to hold them is tough

to know you will go somewhere far, so you see
there is love beneath the waterfall in that cave, to bleed
to see that lovely breadish foot, i wanted to eat
i wanted to feel the love, that you are, to cry on your sleeve.

We all wanna eat something.

In my case, pizza sounds really good. But apparently, I'd have to eat alone. For he is sleeping, probably snoring. Ehh. With a fart here and there.

A Shallow Kayak to the Consciousness

   

     Unfathomable to some, love is the best in everything. But once one has realized that love's unavailability is a hindrance to one's best success, they turn to other things. In my case, turning to traveling is, or can be, by far, the most interesting yet.

   With the help of the internet, and certainly without the help of the deterrent facebook, I seek to purgate my body and my mind of toxins and the delusions and the stress that the past months have brought about. I am willing to be gentle and pure to my own body, because it has been through a lot of things unimaginable. With a little struggle and a little suffering from the long hours of travel, my body will recover its own body clock, be a little tough and strong and certainly get pleasure from the meetings with lovely people around the world.

     Up to now, I still haven't made up my mind if I want somebody with me, or not. Sometimes, I guess it's just necessary to travel alone. And it's not so bad to be with a friend as well. But being with a friend can sometimes limit you, in some way I still couldn't understand yet.

    I only have three goals in traveling, one is to know my own culture. Though being a Filipino means having such a complex diversified culture, it may seem hard to understand history and those languages that seem to change every kilometer you travel. To make things easy and simple for you, it all roots down to respect. Respect that things became like this, and people are simply just like that. It's all respect.

   Secondly, to be able to see the Philippines in a different way. Because in all honesty, I'm sick and tired of seeing the same places again and again. Give yourselves a break, work hard and travel. The Philippines is a multifaceted country, it is also one of the most friendliest countries in my own opinion. And there is this fear inside a womb that slowly hunts me, that if I ever went to another country with cold people in it, I might slowly become cold. Which is what I fear.

     Thirdly, when I become familiar with my own culture, I can now be able to be proud of it. Be convinced of my own country's beauty, to be able to reflect on it. To promote it and be able to save it from the damage of those God-forsaken Political leaders.. I believe when we understand our own culture, we can save it as well. (Though I hope that a little idealism may still remain after all the traveling.)

   In all aspects, love can never be forgotten in the travels we wish to take. It's just all directed to a beautiful mountain, and unforgettable winding roads, or to those people on the buses you wish to have a chat with.

Brandy, Shirtless men on the streets, and a Destination

      With chills, wrapped up in grey jacket with a backpack and some cash to get me somewhere

I readied myself for the door. Hesitant to even go out, because once again, comfort invites me back to my reasonably expensive mattress covered in smooth sheets and comfortable pillows, but my will have decided against that. I dragged myself out the door, and half-grudgingly readying everything. Took a last look at the mirror to make sure I was decent enough not to look like a whore, or a beggar, for the place I was gonna go to were full of them. But I knew, for sure, that my brown dyed hair, and my healthy physique and my awkward walk cannot be mistaken for what I fear that I'll be mistaken for. 

     As I was walking past the sari-sari store, there I saw the landlady's husband with the owner of the store,  who is also a sibling of the landlady, drinking together. Now, I still haven't figured out the whole hierarchy of their family's relationship, like whose cousin is this, and whose sibling is that. I was too lazy to ask cause its really none of my business to do so, but it's so awfully important when it comes to striking up friendly, "im-sorry-my-rent-payment-is-late-again," or "you-look-good-today-im-gonna-pay-everything-next-month," kinda conversations. So much for tactics. With all these business with asking questions about their relationships, I'm careful not to look suspicious for asking, I'd have to appear genuinely interested. This is the thing I'm good at. To look genuine because I need to. And I secretly enjoy it.

     They seemed to be drinking some sort of brandy that I fail to recognize, because I just realized that kind of information was not suitable to be known at that time, all I remembered were the shirtless men so common in Filipino streets, with shot glasses in their hands, ready to offer everybody a glass of brandy. Seemingly and suspiciously smeared with men's saliva all over the rim, but still too happy to offer some to show camaraderie. And I thought, this is so Filipino. This is so common that I started to realize that tiny little details of our casual culture. 

So, while passing by them, I waved. And suddenly, the landlady's husband said, "hoy, san ka pupunta? Gabi na ah. 'Wag ka ng magpapagabi pa." (Hey, where are you going? It's already late, do not stay out too late.) 

So, here's the deal. 

I have managed living like I am alone, for my brother and I share an apartment, we also have separate businesses to manage, with totally different times and totally different places. Making it hard for us to see each other. So basically, I had imagined myself to be living alone anyway. For almost 5 or so years, Us siblings, being my older sister, younger brother and I had been under our father's wing while mum was abroad.

My father, and let me offer you a comfortable introduction about this man I wish to present to you as respectable as possible, is lenient and terribly comfortable with many things his teenage children wished to do. With that information in our heads, we basically did whatever the hell we wanted, with little supervision. We suddenly realized that there was no sort of leadership as to how we should be acting as teenagers, or as to what we should become, we were kind of lost. So, little by little, we Siblings became tiny leaders in ourselves. We realized that we have no one to turn to, (cause mum was far away) who was near us. We only had to rely on each other more.

To others, he was cool. He also was a cool old man to us, but people should realize that they had to be more than that. 

-----

Back to my drinking neighbors, when I heard what he said, I probably had some strange unfamiliar feeling of being a child again. Being scolded like that, as if I was his own, gave me chills. And this feeling was strangely nostalgic, like the tone of a family member who was older than me. Giving me life instructions so I could be safe. So I could be there back at home again, under their wings.

Like a parent's striking question about your future whereabouts. 

Somehow, it felt so good. And then there, it dawned on me that I have missed this kind of family thing I was supposed to have. Missed, meant that I didn't have it so much. That tiny little moment told me how lonely and somehow unfortunate my teenage life was in the absence of my parents, but at the same time, I was given a brighter understanding of my independence and a healthy appreciation for my parents efforts to lift us all up from potential poverty through education that had to be paid by going abroad, a sacrifice from my mother. 

That sentence was too long. I wish to apologize for my gentle reader's being out of breath. 

And so, that simple question from the landlady's husband made me wanna go see my mother, my siblings, my whole precious and comfortably imperfect family. It made me feel like I was at home. 

And all I ever said to him was, "I need to help my grandmother. You know, she's old and all."

That perfect little lie, an excuse. I need not see her, I was out for another business of mine. 

Because if I tried to give the real answer about my destination, it would be incomprehensible to them at the moment. 

So, I walked on and on with a smile. With my grey jacket flapping in the chilly evening air. 

Wait till the cows come home

It was a hot day.
And inside a restaurant was me.
With my mom, various people and some
more folks of about the same status
as everyone else.

They were loud.
I just realized that they were
occupying all the space by their voices.

chit-chats and things with a serious tone.

I realized i had become deaf.
Woah. For a minute there.

It was crazy not to realize that you couldn't distinguish what is noise from normalcy.
I took all of this in a funny way.

I started to feel the inadequacy of my kidneys to hold a great deal of pee, and i stood up.

Then, I saw a strange truck full of cows thru the meshed screen doors of that popular barbeque restaurant.

My feet were so itchy that i mysteriously somehow brought myself near the truck. i felt the odd suffering of the cows inside the cramped truck.


it wasn't pity, it was something else I couldn't understand.


Their eyes, were definitely more beautiful than those in the animes. However, their look was the same as filipinos bound due to poverty.

Unfree. By uneducation and by sloth.

These animals, tied by orange ropes that slowly fade as they rub tightly against the
mouth and neck of the cows. Looked only as if they were only made for human consumption, thus giving anybody who has the desire to use cows as means for trade the right to treat them anyhow practically. It was like nazi shit in that truck you know. Cows slowly being trampled upon, blacking out, revived by being splashed water on, while
shit is smudged everywhere around them.

this pain. This sighting. Is so
Vivid. And trivial to begin with, but slowly bothered me. I wanted to be a vegetarian on a whim. And I understood why those vegetarian folks do the way they do.


Some wish thats far from happening.



Phone's ringing.



Mum's looking for me.

Two Weeks Til Dawn

Learning a language is simply like life. Its too damn difficult but you dont have any choice but to hold up and live up to your own damn expectations.
As I mature, I become aware of those things I have learned from high school, I've called them shitty but I'm starting to welcome any sort of connection they have with them. Like the ever-feared Math, in my case I have understood the power of it. Since I started earning, I felt the need to calculate for the avoidance of the electric bill being cut, or to stop the dreaded pretense of mentioning I'm fasting, but truth is i avoid being broke. And also then that i realized, less food is the best.

Its funny. Usual grown up things.

I can simply imply that Filipino history is of no importance to teenagers and to some people who neglect the need to connect history to the advancement of their motherland.


slowly, i realize all of this connection at such an age where my mistakes are vital to my improvement.

if there are such problems, at such a high level of awareness, we are prone to being crazy.

bacon. kimchi. okura. lettuce. a collective death.

Awesome.Fantastico. Fried rice fanatico.

We find things we find our favorite things.

We put them into the concotion.

Like the things in the fried rice.

We put the things our tongues glorify.

As we consume the merits of our choices and suffer from our poor vindictiveness to learn the hows of cooking.

Down the pool, I see myself. Talking. And breathing not.

          Truth to be told, this is one heck of a phase I'm going through. I feel my being young adult is facing with the inner teenager I once used to be. Confused. Still looking for the right answers.

But I think I am too scared to ask the right questions. Maybe I am secretly scared of growing up. Things I need to face alone. What is the sense of being mature if all I ever faced was trying not to be alone, and finding out that in the end, you are, indeed alone. In this big world full of uncertain things.

         I have felt quite unhappy these past few weeks. Of the things I could not decipher. Of the things  am afraid to face. Yes, that's why maybe I have been telling people who are close to me, that I'm already fearless of death. Because death is the most comfortable, death can be the most alluring part of life where you won't feel the need to survive anymore. Because facing reality is such a hard chore. Not only for me. But for the millions of people who try their best to find meaning in a life packed of hatred and fear, love and delusion, disease and destruction.

           So, that's why I have been keeping in touch with my mother. My mother could be the only one helping me get it together. Wrap me up in this special kind of sense of what is right and what is wrong. I have been bothering her to call me, give me a kick in the ass, or a special kiss on the forehead, before I go to sleep. 

Mama, that's why I had been sucking my thumb til I was in 2nd year college.

Because I was looking for you.

            In the event of me breaking down, the urge to lighten myself up with a number of videos and movies and comedies that I buy cheaply from our moslem brothers and sisters down the road, is indeed, increasing. This pattern repeats itself. Every time.

Mekanismo. Mechanism. True. Mechanisms are so important to let you live. My tiny little mind depends on this now. Because yes, I am alone. And at the moment, unimportant for those people who I think are important. Being unimportant is probably one of the strongest reasons why people commit suicide. They have felt so sad and so mad and so utterly insignificant that they are not afraid of the pain from being out of breath. Being out of breath takes a couple of minutes and then, TA-DAH! Life is gone, and nirvana might be achieved! 

To be above our past self, to be above our mistakes, requires a steady disposition. It does not take you a day to realize that this could be done.

              But I will tell you, I think some people have the answers but don't have a clue on how to use these things. And I guess, I am disappointingly one of them. I manage to keep myself as being viewed a smart girl, but living with this pathetic mind sometimes tires me. I remember one guy who told me, that he was tired of having his own mind. He was thinking of the idea of exchanging brains with someone less smarter than him. And thus, the universal truth, ignorance is bliss. Because obviously, this guy was smart, enabling him to think of other things fucked up. 

          A conclusion is not needed in this post. I do not have the desire to compensate for the lack of my point. This is merely a babble. Babbles that deeply reflect the way my mind works in general. For the things I think about are not directed to any specific part of my brain, or does it feel the need to. 

My body is in pain. So is my mind. 

            I'm thinking of getting a massage so I can work the whole week off in a breeze. But yes, I have to think of the things I need to put my money on. So is this part of growing up? Some people may not be ready for these kinds of things. 

          Strangely, my google searches have been about weird fishes down the depths of the sea. I am a self confessed weird creatures fanatic! This is what I love to search about when I'm down and lonely. Without the unfortunate only. So I noticed when I typed weird sea creatures in the google search bar, fuck it, I think I'm trying to recover from the bad things that has been happening to me. See? I'm trying to lighten up my feelings now because this is the only way, no way but up.

           When I come to think of it, I had the facebook name: Jahnina Actually Swearsalot

And it became an indispensable part of my online life, at least to my online friends.

I do swear a lot. I say bad curse words.

But deep the fucking down, I'm all a mushy-cutey bitch who has been sincere to you 

since day one.

I have lived in the most honest way I can.

With all the necessary glitches that is so essentially part of who we are.

So, tell me. How was your day?

That suicide note. so much fun.

No draft.
Being lifeless took its own course.


                                                          damaged.
                                                                                         

A Verb, Baby.

love love is a verb

love is a doing word

fearless on my breath

gentle impulsion

shakes me, makes me ligher
fearless on my breath

teardrop on the fire

fearless on my breath

*

T

H

A

N

K

S

*

Laughter Over The Unfortunates

                The carcasses of their memories laid with the forgotten deck of cards. The abandoned game was continued in the blurry conversation they were having. He decided to put his hand on her leg, and she understood it wasn't malicious. 'twas comfort for a blade cut that was healed. But still vivid. Memories she could recount without ever changing the details. 

It became less painful the more they talked about it. The rise and fall of their breaths, unheard, but seen.

That girl heard the boy's sigh of resignation from the game that was slowly becoming uninteresting. He lifted his head, put it near her face. A sign, that the both of them have got painful stories to tell that night.

"My dad, is very strict, until now" Said he. "I remember my brothers and I were playing trump cards when my dad came in the room and he told us that we should only play these on special occasions." He chuckled.

And he gave the girl an idea that that situation was funny. So she laughed, because in the part where she grew up in, playing a deck of cards(no gambling) were a normal, harmless thing for kids.So she grinned.

"Well, my dad used to hit us. My sister and I had a petty fight. We were screamin', shoutin at each other. My sister was complaining about me to my dad, then my dad. Without the slightest hesitation,  fuckin slapped my sister's  face with the back of his hand." She shivered with the vivid embarrassment her sister felt. "You could feel the pain, I knew it was that painful, you couldn't forget the sound."

"I regretted having fought with her, for her to be hit like that by my father was so pitiful." She continued.

His face was sad. But she suddenly said, "It's ok, my dad was on drugs that time." She smiled cause she knew they were all safe now. She relaxed and he laughed a little more over the expected reaction.

He laughed more, it wasn't sad. He actually thought it was funny.
"Why are you laughing?" she asked.

"In my country, that thing is so hard to believe. Drugs in our country are so scary, trying to have a little taste of it is even taboo." So the laugh faded, she was a little enlightened. His laugh was innocent, she admired his smile. His fingers crawled into hers, they held hands with the idea that they both had weird memories.

He searched in his e-dictionary. Satisfied, he said, "My dad and I battled over many things."

"Please use , "argue" instead of "battle." as she cut him off.
He nodded as a sign of thanks, the usual gesture between them.

"He brought me, locked me up in our farm's rice stock house." He wiggled and acted like he was banging a door, "let me out, please, let me out!! I said. I was always brought there. My body being lifted into the stockhouse was so scary. My dad was serious..."

She laughed and laughed. She basically thought it was funny. His gesture was funny. He was smiling as he was telling her the story. It gave her the idea, again, everything he said was funny.

"My grandmother or my mother, would bring me rice bowl every night I would do the stockhouse prisoner. You know the rice bowl, I ate it silently inside the stockhouse. Then they will tell me that they will now open the door."
 He cupped his hands to mimic the shape of the rice bowl.

"My dad, would always be asleep if my grandma or my mom decided to bring me home.It was scary."

The girl and the boy laughed together. Looked at each other, without words they understood that once they were unfortunate in their own childish standards.

They laughed some more until the steady breathing of their own bodies were the only ones creating a perfect rhythm  in a world that was once chaotic, they were once children.

The cards, the childhood memories. We were young, yes we once were.

Morbid Goes Garage

In a quiet yet hot mid day, inside the quiet street I live in, a family of 3 suddenly drove inside their garage.

I heard everything. With these walls, with these type of cheap materials our houses are built with, we can hear everything. 

At least all the catchy ones. 

I was grudgingly doing my Mathematics homework. It was soo freaking frustrating. The weather. The hallucination that math is important in everybody's life. I got so unusually excited yet a little irritated.

I know there was a kitten outside. I just fed it a while ago. I gave it water. I called it by the name, "Bluey"

Because this kitten's got blue eyes. And they were so mesmerizing. But bluey was dirty, but sweet.

I was drinking and I heard the family slowly drive up in the garage. And the little kid said to her dad, 

"Dad, the kitty hasn't eaten yet."

(Before this phenomena, I must explain that the parents are christians, who watch morning mass on TV, who go to church every sunday, who speak of pray overs, things we all neighbors could hear.)

And when the daughter said that, I looked through the mesh door amd I can see clearly the faces of this family. 

The dad replied, "don't worry, kid. That kitten will die soon."

And I will never forget the pause on the mother's face. The way she reacted. It was a painful pause. An unbelievable one. 

And I so reluctantly wrote their words on my Math book.

What a sudden morbid shift.

Good afternoon.