Wednesday, December 26, 2018

Hello Precipice

My head is fried. Quite badly. And I feel it to the marrow of my bones. To try and reach out, to someone and then realize - and draw your hand back.

As all of us are on our own journeys, and oftentimes it’s all we can do from keeping ourselves falling as well, much less stop for someone else, and clear space in our heads.

It’s painful that realization. Of this that I brought on myself. To become this vulnerable in real life. To have given as much of myself  - yes I know I am broken beyond comprehension, and there has been a lot of water under my bridge. But what I kept for myself, where my dreams still glowed like white hot light, where I wrote, where I raged, where I danced in circles in the rain - that last part left, where all my parts came and sat in the campfire of knowing - I gave that. The part I promised myself to not let anyone ever see or know. Because she was worth it.

And then to know, it was all to naught. To hear, how to a circle of knowns and unknowns it has been coldly announced - all I had feared as I sat with another in a dark, damp corner, trying to will what remains of my light and of my innocence to be enough, to pray that it was and even then knowing it would not be - to hear it, that all of it just brought her to place of despair.

To see the pain in the other person’s eyes as she walks through her journey; and what I am, but just another broken shard to wound her. To hear it, broke me.

To hear that what she needed, I cannot give. To see her in pain. To know, that she is unhappy, and me the source. To end up this way.

There is no place to go to now. Not in my head. Not in my heart. Not in my soul. Where do I turn? Where do I go? There isn’t even a myself anymore.

These tears are bitter. We are both wounded, in spite of it all. 

I am far from perfect. My love is far from desirable. But these last ten years I gave my all. Sitting in a hospital emergency room with my blood pressure at 200 / 110 and seeing her see me as a burden she has to take care of - hammered it all home.

Now on top of my pain, there is a cold fear in my marrows that I can’t shake, and the universe is pointing to the frays in the tapestries, of stories and timelines that do not fit. I don’t trust myself, and what I think. But it pulls like a bull dying of thirst and trying to get water.

There is so much more, to say. But I can’t right now. I can’t.

Why did I even believe that there is something in this life for me?

Saturday, December 22, 2018

This is For You, When You Find It, And I Hope You Do

9:28 PM on a Friday evening. It’s drizzling outside, and quite cold for a tropical country. It’s the fourteenth of December in the year 2018, and it’s near Christmas in this Christmas crazed country.

Instead of being out and crushed in the general mill of people, which I don’t happen to like anyway, I am here tap tap tapping at... well I was tap tap tapping on my eight year old MacBook Air, but I couldn’t get a connection, and then the battery drains to fourteen percent and then i realize that I dont have a charger with me. So here I am now tap tap tapping on my banged up iPhone six plus.

Which brings us to why I’m tap tap tapping right now. See Ronan Keating has been crooning about The Long Goodbye for the last two weeks, (your are going to love the write-up on the link lemme tell you) on loop and the only song I’ve been able to stomach. Yes it’s sick I know. Sue me. 

So yes, what were we going to talk about. Ah yes. You find yourself here, for some odd universe balancing turn of events. Are you saving me? Perhaps. Am I saving you? Perhaps.

So, Mr. Keating would not be on endless loop if I was not in some quandary of the heart. That much I think we agree on this early.

General reminders here. If you were curled up in a ball earlier, if you were stuffed silly inside a blanket, if you just got through that tub of ice cream, and you felt so sorry for yourself that you fired up your computer and then ended up stalking your current or ex, your goldfish, or whichever, whomever it is that’s been causing you that pain that is so bad you can’t even seem to breathe - it’s good that you’ve stopped being an embarrassment to yourself and just surfed aimlessly until you typed hurt and somehow ended up here.

It gets better from here. We all have to believe that. We have to hope, that one morning we wake up and smile at the morning. It doesn’t matter whose fault it is now. It was a shared life, and you were getting to be a part of it. Look you can’t expect anyone to love you the way you want to be loved. Even if you can bring down stars and make the galaxies stop and spin the opposite way. It will be about making a sandwich maybe. A small pebble that grows and becomes a boulder. No matter that you can explain it and maybe cover with some other goodness. The trait becomes irritating, then annoying, then a source of resentment, and finally unforgivable.

All you say, all you do will not matter. Because the other person’s mind is made up. The lines have been drawn. By the one who loves less. The one who loves more, clutches tighter in all cases, willing to subjugate self to keep the world from spinning out of control. And what that does to the other person is just to further infuriate and alienate. You’re labeled insane, crazy, controlling, paranoid, unstable and a whole host of things. Because the other person has moved on, maybe not fully, but enough to not to want to take care of the relationship. What you feel is the other person’s apathy towards you, and that dear one stings like no other thing on earth.

Because it comes from the one you would give everything for. And it’s not wanted anymore. I can tell you to read the signs, but we’re blind now aren’t we? It’s the reason I’m writing here and you are reading it.

You can take back your life. If you find the courage to do so. The power goes both ways. It’s just that yours waned and flickered out in the other person. But it’s no use pining for it, it’s dead and gone. Maybe the other person just doesn’t to be the one to say goodbye. It has to be you; so they can sleep at night and convince themselves that you went completely off the reservation and there was nothing else that can be done about it. 

We’ll talk more about it, you and I. Just so we all don’t off ourselves. If you’re feelings are as strong as mine, then the world still has need of us. Maybe there’s someone out there who can still accept you, broken, banged up, and all else that may have happened to you. Maybe you help someone heal, then move on again. Whichever it is, let’s look forward to a morning we smile again. When we are free of this pain. If not, you’ve gone this far already, what’s another day?


I’ll see you tomorrow? Great. 

Tuesday, October 23, 2018

The Street Photographer and Shyness

Street photography. Interesting right?

Get out, walk around, get to know people.

Take portraits. Take photos of scenes.  Easy peasy.

Right?

No.

Yesterday my better half, forced my hand on a project I have been mulling for sometime now. I love coffee and I love coffee shops. Topping the list is that American Giant, Starbucks. I was thinking the project would be of women who love having coffee, perhaps starting at Starbucks and then progressing to all coffee houses and opportunities to have coffee.

Sounds easy enough. 

I'm on day two, and I'm sitting here frozen to death. I am stuck to my chair it's actually laughable. Why is it so hard, to try and break the ice and approach people? It might be rejection I think. That I know that makes it all the more embarrassing since I can't take any action despite knowing what my actual issue is.

Hey, if you're mostly mistaken for someone who will mug people - then you may think twice about approaching people too. 

So now. I'm stuck with this. A loser photo, of the Frappuccino I will be taking home for when she wakes up. She'll be saddened by my reticence of course. And I'm going to be a little sadder for both my inability, and that I made her sad.

Who knew learning photography would be so difficult? Le sigh.

Thursday, October 18, 2018

Teaser Review: Nabulao Beach and Dive Resort

Sunset @ Nabulao Beach

Hinoba-an, Negros Occidental

I'll complete the write up over the weekend. I hope.

Just couldn't leave it alone like this. It's a four our drive from Bacolod or a three hour drive from Dumaguete or a 25 minute trip from Sipalay via a charter plane from Cebu courtesy of Air Juan.

The surrounding area is lush, and the drive although long, does not take you through bang-your-head-on-the-glass kind of traffic. We had the needle mainly fixed at sixty most of the time.

The resort was such a pleasant surprise. Great people, excellent food, wonderful amenities. The service was so good we forgot we were on our first visit. 

Photos here, which I will also update over the weekend.

Sunday, October 14, 2018

Revisiting The Alarm’s “Rescue Me”

The first time I heard "Rescue Me" was, well just over three decades ago. I was in that difficult stage in life that is the transition from childhood to adolescence. 

My mother left the country in search of a re-start for her life, and eventually as she hoped, our lives. My father was, well what were fathers like in those days? They were distant and rarely seen figures who would just grunt, nod or shake their heads.

If you had one that talked to you, then you were golden. Usually those were Dads of the rich kids, the ones who didn’t need to toil too much. 

Lost and unsure, the world was such a hostile and lonely place. In such loneliness, sadness can easily form into anger. A huge ball of anger that does not have direction, and for the one carrying it, has enough juice to burn the world.

Rescue Me was a song from The Alarm’s third studio album, Eye of the Hurricane, released in 1987, In the pre-internet age, the chance that we here in the Philippines could have found that song was minimal. But true to the ironies of life, some such things do happen.


“Rescue Me” did not touch on what I was my problem was. What it did was grab what I was feeling, that which was so big, it felt like it spanned the breadth of the universe and made me (unknowingly) channel it into singing along at the top of my voice, with my fists clenched and tears running down my face. Fast forward to now, remembering it so strongly that I ended up going to iTunes and purchased it from "The Best of The Alarm" album.

It started my love for the British bands of that age, singing about the general inequality of life, and our human condition. It was one of the things that allowed me to step off the ledge, and reach this age, where I now write, and most oftentimes discuss about my passions. Although frankly speaking, I should try and keep a recorder, because what I’m writing about now is just a shell of the discussion I had earlier that brought this up.

Ah, but we can’t all be rockstars or poets. But we can still bask in their glory. If you feel lost right now and wander here, I am an example that there is tomorrow, if you decide not to cut your life short.

Saturday, October 13, 2018

Friday Evening With A Ten Year Old Mental Block

Valero Street, Makati City


So I’m back. Still lost. Still trying to recapture that fire that made me write like a procreating rabbit all those years ago. Sadly, it’s like slamming over and over again into a brick wall.

So, I said I’ll write and dragged Heidi to the corner Starbucks to go and do that.

Thirty minutes into this and all we’ve done is smoke and throw bull at each other. Ah such is life sometimes, and I still wonder what to write. And why the muse has turned her back on me.

I know there’s a story inside me. Stories rather. But I am not sure what I need to write before I can get what I want out there. It’s like there’s a block. 

The story I want to birth into the world is ephemeral. It is here in bits and pieces, but the glue, the strand to hold it together floats around like smoke.

I’m not sure how to go about it, I’ve tried all the roads I know, and they all are dead ends.

Robert Smith is slow dancing in my head under gloomy lights and fog from a smoke machine. He’s actually singing Pictures of You, streaming straight from iTunes into the wireless Marshall Major II headset I have on.

It’s gloomy and I’m sort of happy. And with all the wanting to write, all I ended up with is brand whoring.


Sigh. End frame, exit stage right and slip on a banana peel.

Sunday, October 19, 2014

Navigationally Challenged

From those who've made it we keep hearing "follow your passion",  "live to inspire", "be the change that you want to see" and a lot of other things that would just make you gag if you saw it printed in a shirt.

I find myself relevant and satisfied in where I am and what I do. Yet I still am longing for the freedom to widen my circle of influence, to find a venue to inspire others that are currently not within grasp, to try and make a difference for those who do not work for or with me.

A question that comes up, specifically in third world states - there are very few opportunities, too little in the manner of resources,  and too much of apathy.  People desperately trying to survive will ensure food before existentialism.  Exist first, philosophy is for a full stomach.

But what I've found in the course of my life is that people will still listen.  There are still those who search for some more even in the middle of hopelessness.  That there might be a way to elevate oneself against the tides of a life chained to poverty.

In that context I'll continue to try. To find those who'll listen.  And continue to teach.


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