Thank you for smoking.

I am not necessarily fond of cigarettes but if you wave one to my face and it happens that we are in the middle of a drinking session I would beg to have that one stick. I remember when I turned edge many years ago, I had to give up drinking. Had to, because of urinary tract infection. People might find it poseur-ish when you choose a lifestyle just because you have to - or you are advised medically to do it. What is overlooked is that you also have the choice to not take that advice. I quit drinking because I was afraid to experience that pain again. That UTI incident was the worst pain of my life. I felt my hips are going to split. It was worse than undergoing a chest tattoo. It was like having a child.

When I am with a crowd, I get offered a lot of booze and smoke. So I tell them I am on medication for them to back off. I thought it was going to sink in to them somehow but the next time we get together, it's the same old thing.

Just have one. Just one. Here's a stick. But I don't feel like smoking without having able to drink. So just have one drink and one smoke.

I couldn't live with it - having to say no every few minutes. Back then, I also couldn't live at home on a weekend. I was the only sober person in the crowd and the crowd couldn't tell what I'm doing there. My feelings of being a killjoy was confirmed when someone walked up to me and said 'you make us feel weird that you're not drinking'. I know, I nodded. People get uncomfortable when they are dealing with something they have no name for. So one night, I told them I am off medication but - I quit drinking and smoking. They ask why. I said, I just chose to quit. Then someone (I forgot who it was) said, you're straight edge. From then on, they call me that and I was known to be the only sXe person in that crowd and I totally enjoyed the privilege of drinking fresh milk or fruit juice in front of them without ever having to go through being offered a drink and smoke every 5 minutes. I saw that since, I am straight edge, they now feel comfortable drinking around me because what I'm doing had a name.

But that was a long time ago.

I am currently an occasional drinker and smoker. The "edge" of my past was just okay to look back to. To reminisce and get the fuzzy feeling of abstinence, that I once was a thirsty person saying no to that dewy glass of drink.

I'm glad I have overcome that bullcrap. LOL.

When friends become strangers.

When you are with somebody who is and had been special to you for quite a long period of time, it's not likely to cross your mind how this person could exit your life.
I would have wanted this post to be some sort of a tell-all but I changed my mind. Because in life, there is one thing that I am certain of, and that is anything can happen. Now, I wouldn't want to write things I might regret later on the way I did with some stuff in my blogs before but I guess that is all a part of the growth process. With it, also comes the chance for comparisons. The befores and afters, the what could have beens.

"Burning bridges" is like a song in my head that I can't sing. It's playing all the time but I couldn't let it out of my mouth. I can't blurt it out. I couldn't do it. It's wishful thinking. It amazes me how some could do it easily. It must be depending upon the gravity of the situation or the weight of the other party's fault.

Burning bridges.

Can you imagine taking someone out of your life. Peeling off everything you have to do with that person? Lifting off every imaginable great times. Sometimes forgiving but ultimately forgetting?

I have a friend who told me once, that she is capable of doing this. I'd like to think that I am too, and I have tried it but with the help of distance, not communicating and totally avoiding their way. Until now, I am able to keep them away but I still have to come up with something to say if ever we bump into each other with no excuse for me to not say hi. "I'm sorry, wrong person!"
"You must be talking about my long lost twin sister!" "I had amnesia" "Ha? Who are you?!" I might as well run away you know.

It's true that the more people you meet, the more people become candidates to be forgotten. Sometimes, I lay on my bed and wonder why I let this person in to my life in the first place. How could I have not smelled the ten thousand dead rats? Instead, I noticed the hint of shampoo in their hair. I only get to realize it when it's too late. We're already friends.



It actually takes time to discover it. It's not like a friend commits one mistake and you tell yourself the friendship's over. Even if she stole your boyfriend, there are things to consider especially when that friendship had been built years and years ago. It's never one mistake. I found that it adds up, one little disappointment at a time. Then you wake up and ask yourself why you never want to see or speak with that person again. Then you think you're such an awful person for even thinking about it. Then you blame yourself.

Then you stick with that person another few years ignoring the signs, dealing with it without doing anything to amicably settle things putting up with all the silly things thinking it's not a big deal. Thing is, you really don't want to hurt anyone and end up hurting yourself. It's really like a bad marriage if you ask me. Like a bomb ticking, waiting to blow your brains out.

So what are your options?
What are really friends for?
Are these friends worth your love?
Who can answer these questions?

People are so afraid of being alone in the world, the Pope even noticed it. In World Youth Day this year he talked about how people nowadays are nurturing a quiet sense of despair. So maybe this is it. We take in as many people as we like to have in our lives like there's no tomorrow. This is evident in our myspaces and friendsters and facebooks. This is evident in open relationships. This is evident in our lives.

I'm not discouraging the endless possibilities of creating friendships throughout my life. But one thing I would keep reminding myself is that there is a time for holding on, and a time for letting go. Completely.

The end of things.

Kyas moved to the next round last Monday at 11 am. If it was 11 am exactly, I wouldn't know. I wasn't there. Why is it that we think knowledge is power? If I would have known he was going to die that time, that day, I would have gathered my resources to be by his side and this goes out to every person I still consider as a friend.

Why do we love beating deadlines?

We don't accept it, but that's a fact. We are addicted to deadlines. It's funny how it's called deadlines. It's the end of the line. Unless, the boss is kind, he may give an extension. Like how God delays our deaths every moment of every day. Have you ever thought about it? Every breath we take is an extension to a deadline. We are already dead though it's just a matter of time. Unless, of course, someone had discovered immortality potion or fountain of youth or any spell that could make you live forever which I think is kind of dumb. There's no person in his right mind who would like to live forever. If you like that, I hate to say this but you're crazy. You're the type who would play level 1 of games and never proceed to the next level. You're crazy.

We love beating deadlines.
And we almost always end up too late.

A few months ago in summer, my dad's oldest brother died. He wasn't very old just in his early 60's. He lived a full life and that was what really matters, doesn't it? He wasn't a procrastinator I can tell because he's a popular AM Radio personality and being that comes a great deal of responsibilities. I was thinking about how when there are times you don't like to get up in the morning and just take the day off. He can never do that unless he breaks a leg or he dies or something to that extent. It's an awesome job and he loved it. A lot of people loved him and they were there in his funeral. Hundreds of them.

Kyas was funny. He was sweet to me. He must be sweet to everyone. I do not want to wake his corpse up (sorry, Kyas) but I guess it's worth telling the world that there was something between us. Every time we meet, which is just a few times a year, he would do and say something that would turn up my stomach. (sorry, Kyas) If he was like this to all the girls he had met, they should blog about it too. haha. What he said or did, is between me and his departed soul --- but it was special. He made me feel special a few times a year. There was one time I almost fell for it but then he never made it official. He just fed me a lot of chips and a lot of Coke and talked to me about sexual positions between people and sometimes between people and objects (like door knobs). This is what he does, we see each other and hug and he would lead me away from the crowd and we would take a short hike to a store where he'd tell me to "pick what I like". He would tell me I didn't lose weight and he would look real disappointed to find out that I didn't. And he must be real disappointed that he is into a BBW. haha. No, he didn't tell me he liked me but he couldn't keep his hands off me. It was a perfect match because, with the right amount of alcohol, I like to be touched. He made me drink a lot.

Kyas was funny. It wasn't exactly a date he was asking for but from the fact that we're going to be alone together and maybe some door knobs, it's going to become a date. And paranoid as I am, I declined when he offered me private bass guitar lessons. I declined any meeting that would not include anyone else. He was too smart. He was too funny. He was too generous. And I was too afraid to deal with it because I know I couldn't handle him.

But then again, he never tried. He didn't have to. It's just, we're okay that we're friends a few times a year. And touch-y feel-y friends after a round of drinks. (sorry, Kyas)

Monday, around 5pm, I got the text from his friend and band mate, Ivan, that he had gone. I didn't cry. I just couldn't believe it. Until now, two days later, it's still unreal to me. I'm still waiting for my tears to fall if it would ever. I don't know. I think I might, pretty soon. But maybe I just couldn't find any reason to cry. Maybe he made me too damn happy in all those few times a year that we meet, which made it all the more special. I'm really sorry Kyas, if I might not cry about your passing. We were just so damn happy.

There are many things I am going to write about the end of things aside from mortality. There are also the end of beautiful relationships, my weaning from addictive behavior and so on.

In my next posts, love.

Kyas moves to the next round.

I'm sorry I didn't...

...text you a lot like you wanted me to...

...go to your birthday party...

...go to your baby's christening...

...put up a band with you.


I'm sorry I didn't...



...give you this cap when you begged for it the whole night.

I could not remember a moment you didn't give me...




something to eat and drink...



...and something to laugh about.

You were one of the happiest people I know. You were sunshine.

I'm sorry I wasn't able to tell you this.

Now, you can't hear me.

Thank you, Kyas. I couldn't thank you enough.

Now, you can't hear me. But maybe I will dream tonight and tell you that --

You were the only person aside from family who asked me to go back to school.

And I wasn't able to tell you this, but I took to heart what you said --

Remember? You told me I am smart and I have to use it. You didn't ask.

Remember? You didn't ask. It was an order. And we laughed.

All we did was laugh.

That was enough.

I didn't tell you this, but Kyas, I'm now in school.

I love you and I wish I made you happy, somehow,

the way you made me happy.

Goodbye, Kyas. See you up there.

Once upon a homework...

Absorbed with all the school work and preliminary exams, I had been slack in here as well as my other blog. Plus, the computer modem had been blinking it's lights telling me that he's giving up. No internet at home for a couple of weeks. Now, with a brand spankin' new modem and some free time, I'd like to share something I did for my History 3 homework. Let's geek out.

My reflection on Mikaela Fudolig's valedictory speech, "Take Not the Road Less Travelled" on April 28, 2007 at UP Diliman.

When I was sixteen, the thought of going to college and picking out the course I am going to take had dominated the end of my high school days. Something that would assure me of a high-paying job, my parents agree. Something that I would enjoy doing, I agree. Ultimately, these are the common goals I shared with the hundreds of us flocked in the coliseum with our white togas and nostalgic hearts on.

What does an average sixteen-year-old’s thoughts involve? Friendships, family and future. Which comes first, depends on the person. When faced everyday with the news that our country’s economic stability is going nowhere but down, and that there are easier ways to overcome life’s difficulties, the average sixteen-year-old will most likely take the easier way to things. Who cares about dreams when your stomach is empty? Money is power and the lack of it is the dark and unthinkable future. In the olden days, people go to college for prestige and recognition. Diplomas framed in every living room. Today, people go back to college after a year of working odd jobs having to face with the fact that a diploma is a necessary requirement to get promoted or even hired and graduating students usually are working full-time way before their graduation pictures are taken.

If I am sixteen today, what Mikaela spoke about is a kind of dreamy, illusory advice by a girl who obviously has everything. Intellectual prowess, well-to-do family, opportunities from left to right. But I am not sixteen. I am a twenty-five-year-old who had dreams broken, opportunities passed up, and is trying to rebuild her life. With this, I can compare her valedictory speech to a tank of oxygen for a dying patient.

True enough, she has a gift of superb intellect and money but her VISION and POSITIVITY are qualities that intellect can not manipulate and money can not buy. She had sensed that the Filipino youth are the most affected and aggravated by this country’s moral and psychological landslide. The Filipino youth had become a staggering drunkard, a pregnant teen, a child laborer, a hedonistic bastard who’s losing hope and losing trust in the country’s leaders.

This sixteen-year-old encouraged us ‘not just to take courage, but be brave… not just do well, but excel… not just take the road less traveled but make new roads, blaze new trails and find new routes.’ She encouraged us to dare to step up and stand out. Her speech tells us to do something now and it’s not only addressed to all the sixteen-year-olds in this country but to every single adult who has greater fears than ten year old children.

It amazes me how Mikaela Fudolig was admitted to college in UP Diliman at the tender age of 11. It amazes me how she graduated at the top of her class. But what truly amazes me more is how this kid with bigger opportunities waiting for her outside of the country had chosen to offer her teaching services to the Filipino students at UP Diliman. For this, I salute her not only for her age, not only for her intellect but most of all, for her Filipino heart.

*Mikaela Irene Fudolig is a Filipina who graduated at 16 years old as a summa cum laude with a general weighted average of 1.099 from the University of the Philippines, Diliman. She was only 11 when she entered college, under an experimental program that would test if the possibility of gifted children entering a university will not compromise their emotional and social development. The experiment was a success.

*To learn more about Mikki, click here and here.

*To read her valedictory speech click here.

*To hear it, click here.

If God gives you...

8 million pesos.

What would you do?


This is not a survey. Haha.

I know what I'm going to do. I'm giving it away.
But would it be alright if I keep some of it for myself?
Yes.

LOL.

Lotto lotto lotto lotto.

Long lost book...

I couldn't remember the last time I have partially read this book, or have I read it to the end? It escapes me. One thing I'm sure of is that it had been several years ago.

I was surprised to see it in Mimi's bedroom. Her family have just moved into a new house a few months back and last week was my first time to go there. I was lounging in her bedroom and saw it atop the nook of the dresser.

It was Living, Loving and Learning by Leo Buscaglia, Ph.D.

I borrowed it back. I want to learn again that when you re-read a book, it's always different every time. I am reading random chapters of it and I remember some. I am smiling most of the time. I never thought that I have been paying attention to Buscaglia. All those years passed and I'm happy to find that I applied (some of) it.

It's hard to find a favorite part of such a beautiful book but in every point of your life, there will always be words that will fit.

At this moment, here is mine. Buscaglia wrote:

I don't know where you put me, but believe me, I'm nowhere else than where you are. I'm just as confused. I'm just as lonely. I'm just as despairing. I cry as often. I have no more answers than you do. I've just stopped asking the questions. I'm just involved in the process. I'm not even asking for answers anymore. I just think it's a wonderful thing that I am. And people write me letters, and they say, why death? Why pain? Why must children die? Why must we be despairing, etc? I write back and say "How the hell should I know?" Greater people than I have been asking those questions for centuries. I don't know why. But I do remember that many, many years ago, somebody said that sometimes we get so involved in the questions that we don't live the answers.


I say Amen to that.
I say if you are looking for a book to while away the time, pick this up. Pick it up because it's real.
Among all the fiction piling up in your room, go get this beautiful non-fiction. Who knows you can positively live your life because you got bored.

^_~