simple question, "san ako lulugar?".
i'm 2-3 years older than 85% of the people in the SPO. I wish i could go and find a job but i cant. have to get my diploma first. Curse this thesis. But it's alright. If i had graduated any earlier, I would have missed a lot -- my salvation. But I'l save that story for later.
I feel useless. Yes, I have served the publication for more than 4 years already and I think I have served it the best way I can (save for some low points. but those too are part of the ride). But something is still missing. So what do i do? i meddle in things that i shouldn't be meddling with. meaning, trabaho ng iba. somehow, i have this urge to help. pero the ironic thing is that people can well be off without my unsolicited help. minsan, prisinta nang prisinta. maganda sana ang intentions pero usually, may maiinis at may makukulitan din. thanks for being kind to me winkle, rc, mel. sori din. da, salamat for appreciating the small insanities ko. jj, thanks for making me feel welcome. ck, thanks for the trust. sayo din ruby. at napagkamalan pa akong nagrun para sa eic. assoc po tinakbuhan ko. :p gene, anak, salamat din sa tiwala. advance happy bday. anne, sana, di tayo sabay grumadweyt. kailangan mauna ako sa iyo. :p chris, thanks for lending me the keys. tila hinayaan mu na rin ako tumingin sa nakalipas. cy, hapi hapi. :D hug!!! shux, kandila ba ito? hehe. and si jj lang naman ang malamang makabasa nito. hehehe.
hopefully, i will find my place.
the other story. if this was 2 years ago, i would have tried suicide. of course, the story is different. and im reacting differently too. but pain can only take on several forms. the worst of them all is that pain caused by seeing others in pain. since the feeling is not yours, one can only imagine. we relate by imagining. we search from a multitude of memories and the emotions that are intricately attached to them. what we dont notice is that we too are doing isolation. and by making them more apparent, more obvious, the feelings become heightened. Thus, in the process of recollection, emotions are intensified. So, it is not hard to imagine shedding tears for the tragedy of characters in a movie or a novel. Or for a friend who you know is in the same crap that you are in.
But besides this, we also create pain whose origin is totally ours. Maybe, to say we create is inappropriate since it presupposes a certain amount of volition -- that we choose to look for our own death. but we can also argue that no one is as perverse as to consciously search for his own demise. it is perhaps that the pain is original but is not of one's own creation. it is the spawn of the universe. chaos is one fundamental character of essence, of being and non-being. this is the pain caused by confusion -- the pain of uncertainty. in whichever case, we die.
but all is not lost. it is somewhat amusing that the same reason for pain -- love and uncertainty -- are also from which we draw happiness and peace. I still believe in goodness. God (whoever he is) has His way of setting things straight. I will not give up on pain. i will never let go of love.
hopefully, i will find my heart.
Tuesday, September 28, 2004
Sunday, September 26, 2004
Saturday, September 25, 2004
I have done the impossible!
I have done the impossible -- I made an ant smile again.
The story goes that there is an ant who wanted to have this grain of sugar. But this grain of sugar is not like any other sugar. It is special – very, very special. And our little ant is torn whether he should take the sugar or not. He is a simple ant who lived in a simple world. In fact, to have some breadcrumbs already makes him very happy.
But he longs for this very special grain of sugar. The truth is, just seeing the grain of sugar completes his day. Everyday, he gets closer and closer to the grain of sugar. And this cheers him up. But sadly, with each step he takes, a sense of bitterness inside him gets bigger and bigger.
Is the sugar right for him? Or perhaps, the more appropriate question to ask is is he right for the sugar?
To make matters worse, because this grain was very very special, every ant in the world wants it. And one of those ants is his friend. Every time he would see his friend sit close to the grain of sugar, he cries a little. But the droplets were so small no one notices them. They were virtually invisible.
You might think that nothing can be more unfortunate than this. But there is. What grieves our friend most is that he knows that his friend too sheds his tears -- small and unseen – when it is he who gets close to the grain of sugar.
I’m not blaming the grain of sugar for our dear little friend’s agony. The sugar was simply being what it is – a grain of very special sugar. So is it the fault of our friend ant (and also of his friend)? I guess not. They were also being what they are – simple ants. How does this story end therefore?
If I were to believe what other people tell me, I would say that nothing beats honesty. I have qualms about that thought but in this case, I think it is the best advice I can give to our friend ant – to tell the sugar what he felt.
But it isn’t that easy. Now I am at fault. I soon realized that to be honest with one’s feelings to another was not that easy. First, it demands that you put your emotional shield down and make yourself vulnerable. Secondly, one has to deal with the possibility that you might give other people a great deal of unnecessary burden.
What happened then you ask me? As difficult as it was for our friend ant to handle the things we have mentioned, he decided to go and tell the sugar what he felt. The process was not very pretty. Long pauses, encrypted messages, numerous one-liners (not sentences, just lines) and a gamut of facial expressions. Well actually, it was kind of funny.
In the end, (and at my great relief) my advice turned out to be correct. Now, the sugar knows about what our friend felt. And our friend somehow need not cry his small invisible tears. The last time I saw our friend ant he was smiling.
I could have filled this entry with angst, as I would usually do. With all that I have gone through for the past 3 to 4 years or so, it is hard not to be pessimistic about things. But the ant's smile has made me believe that there are a lot of things that I should be thankful for. That the past is the reason that you are. And that life is still worth living.
The story goes that there is an ant who wanted to have this grain of sugar. But this grain of sugar is not like any other sugar. It is special – very, very special. And our little ant is torn whether he should take the sugar or not. He is a simple ant who lived in a simple world. In fact, to have some breadcrumbs already makes him very happy.
But he longs for this very special grain of sugar. The truth is, just seeing the grain of sugar completes his day. Everyday, he gets closer and closer to the grain of sugar. And this cheers him up. But sadly, with each step he takes, a sense of bitterness inside him gets bigger and bigger.
Is the sugar right for him? Or perhaps, the more appropriate question to ask is is he right for the sugar?
To make matters worse, because this grain was very very special, every ant in the world wants it. And one of those ants is his friend. Every time he would see his friend sit close to the grain of sugar, he cries a little. But the droplets were so small no one notices them. They were virtually invisible.
You might think that nothing can be more unfortunate than this. But there is. What grieves our friend most is that he knows that his friend too sheds his tears -- small and unseen – when it is he who gets close to the grain of sugar.
I’m not blaming the grain of sugar for our dear little friend’s agony. The sugar was simply being what it is – a grain of very special sugar. So is it the fault of our friend ant (and also of his friend)? I guess not. They were also being what they are – simple ants. How does this story end therefore?
If I were to believe what other people tell me, I would say that nothing beats honesty. I have qualms about that thought but in this case, I think it is the best advice I can give to our friend ant – to tell the sugar what he felt.
But it isn’t that easy. Now I am at fault. I soon realized that to be honest with one’s feelings to another was not that easy. First, it demands that you put your emotional shield down and make yourself vulnerable. Secondly, one has to deal with the possibility that you might give other people a great deal of unnecessary burden.
What happened then you ask me? As difficult as it was for our friend ant to handle the things we have mentioned, he decided to go and tell the sugar what he felt. The process was not very pretty. Long pauses, encrypted messages, numerous one-liners (not sentences, just lines) and a gamut of facial expressions. Well actually, it was kind of funny.
In the end, (and at my great relief) my advice turned out to be correct. Now, the sugar knows about what our friend felt. And our friend somehow need not cry his small invisible tears. The last time I saw our friend ant he was smiling.
I could have filled this entry with angst, as I would usually do. With all that I have gone through for the past 3 to 4 years or so, it is hard not to be pessimistic about things. But the ant's smile has made me believe that there are a lot of things that I should be thankful for. That the past is the reason that you are. And that life is still worth living.
Thursday, September 23, 2004
Credits
great thanks for the inspiration.
Windmills of your Mind
Sting
Round, like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel.
Never ending or beginning,
On an ever spinning wheel
Like a snowball down a mountain
Or a carnaval balloon
Like a carousell that's turning
Running rings around the moon
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping
Past the minutes on it's face
And the world is like an apple
Whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind
Like a tunnel that you follow
To a tunnel of it's own
Down a hollow to a cavern
Where the sun has never shone
Like a door that keeps revolving
In a half forgotten dream
Or the ripples from a pebble
Someone tosses in a stream.
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping
Past the minutes on it's face
And the world is like an apple
Whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind
Keys that jingle in your pocket
Words that jangle your head
Why did summer go so quickly
Was it something that I said
Lovers walking allong the shore,
Leave their footprints in the sand
Was the sound of distant drumming
Just the fingers of your hand
Pictures hanging in a hallway
And a fragment of this song
Half remembered names and faces
But to whom do they belong
When you knew that it was over
Were you suddenly aware
That the autumn leaves were turning
To the color of her hair
Like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning,
On an ever spinning wheel
As the images unwind
Like the circle that you find
In the windmills of your mind
Pictures hanging in a hallway
And the fragment of this song
Half remembered names and faces
But to whom do they belong
When you knew that it was over
Were you suddenly aware
That the autumn leaves were turning
To the color of her hair
Like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning,
On an ever spinning wheel
As the images unwind
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind
Windmills of your Mind
Sting
Round, like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel.
Never ending or beginning,
On an ever spinning wheel
Like a snowball down a mountain
Or a carnaval balloon
Like a carousell that's turning
Running rings around the moon
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping
Past the minutes on it's face
And the world is like an apple
Whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind
Like a tunnel that you follow
To a tunnel of it's own
Down a hollow to a cavern
Where the sun has never shone
Like a door that keeps revolving
In a half forgotten dream
Or the ripples from a pebble
Someone tosses in a stream.
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping
Past the minutes on it's face
And the world is like an apple
Whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind
Keys that jingle in your pocket
Words that jangle your head
Why did summer go so quickly
Was it something that I said
Lovers walking allong the shore,
Leave their footprints in the sand
Was the sound of distant drumming
Just the fingers of your hand
Pictures hanging in a hallway
And a fragment of this song
Half remembered names and faces
But to whom do they belong
When you knew that it was over
Were you suddenly aware
That the autumn leaves were turning
To the color of her hair
Like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning,
On an ever spinning wheel
As the images unwind
Like the circle that you find
In the windmills of your mind
Pictures hanging in a hallway
And the fragment of this song
Half remembered names and faces
But to whom do they belong
When you knew that it was over
Were you suddenly aware
That the autumn leaves were turning
To the color of her hair
Like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning,
On an ever spinning wheel
As the images unwind
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind
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