nosi ba lasi
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Posted:Apr 24, 2009 2:15 pm
Last Updated:May 6, 2009 7:50 am 58698 Views
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...and who the hell are you???
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shooooo!!!
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Posted:Apr 20, 2009 12:32 am
Last Updated:Apr 23, 2009 5:37 pm 58056 Views
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spring cleaning
decluttering 
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9 lives
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Posted:Apr 19, 2009 1:22 pm
Last Updated:Apr 24, 2009 2:18 pm 59310 Views
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She took the bus quite late, around 8:00 o’clock in the evening. She could have gone earlier, but there was some class officers meeting and it always takes longer than necessary. It was Friday. If everything goes the way it supposed to be, she will be at her place around midnight.
She still was wearing her school uniform (RMCHS) loose fitting blouse with a big green bow that looks like a dead butterfly over long beige skirt and the so familiar black shoes. No time to change. Got to catch the bus.
When the conductor asked for her school ID, she handed it to him without comment. Not even when he sits next to her. There were only few passengers; one of those was a 9 years old(?) boy who keeps looking at her. Guess it would be a quiet 4 hours drive.
She didn’t know what happened. All she could remember was: when the bus reached the terminal and the conductor stepped out with the boy, she goes with them. The place was dark and as alien to her as the people she was with. But it seems didn’t matter. Nothing matters. Not even her(self.)
At 4:00 a.m she gathered her clothes and slowly put them on. She glanced at the strange man on the bed. He seems oblivious of the messed around him. There was too much blood! She didn’t remember having to feel pain. Nothing. She stepped over the sleeping boy on the floor. How did it happen? She opened the door and slipped out into the dark. She didn’t dare to close it for the fear of making sound. She wonders where she is.
She found a tricycle and boarded. She looks back at the motel. She would not remember the name. Not even the man’s or the boy’s.
For no apparent reason, she cried, and cried and cried…
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Monday
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Posted:Apr 18, 2009 1:42 pm
Last Updated:Apr 23, 2009 4:32 pm 57936 Views
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I was in the Philippines visiting my mother when I first heard him.(yes heard him) we went to some kind of resort( very near where my mother was staying) with this gorgeous natural spring water pools, trails to hike, beautiful falls and lots of nature's best keep secrets.
I was about to hit the water when suddenly I heard MY WAY floating in the air from some unseen speaker somewhere. I always admired people who can sing convincingly; so I decided to look for the origin of the sound.
My curiosity brought me on the top of a hill next to the pools. There stood a half-open picnic cottage and the sound was indeed coming from the inside. I was amazed to find out that the owner of the voice was a very small boy of about 12 years old. He glanced at me once and that's all. I can hardly believe it. The voice and the boy didn't go together. (And it will always be like that)
I saw him again the next year and the year after that. He was one of the boarders of my godmother, and it happened that our place was next to hers. There were lots of boarding houses in that area, since most of the were from the mountains and only comes home in the weekends.
When I look at the old holidays photographs, I am a bit surprised to find him almost in every each of the snapshots. I didn't notice him around that much. He just a my niece had a crush on. And I’m a grown up doing grown up things. Only much, much later that I spoke to him; and only by coincidence.
I'm a homebody type. When I am in the Philippines I stayed at home with my mother. Never been to a disco or things like that. I read mostly. That time it became a habit of me to spend an afternoon till late at night at the boarding house. Mainly because I became very fond of a new born baby(who will later became my godson) whom I baptized Ngit-pa( and ngit-pa he stayed till this very day. Only few people remember his real name. I’m not one of them)because he really is a ngit-pa in a very adorable way.
One time I was alone gazing outside the window at groups of students coming out of the local high school just across the street when he came in.
When I first heard his name I thought it was MANDY short for ARMANDO. Only when he said it to me personally and I grabbed his school ID for confirmation that I found out it was really MONDAY. MONDAY as in the first working day of the week. What an unusual name; especially for a boy...
I don't know anymore why and what we talked about; only I know that it lasted till 1:00 in the morning, ending up in him saying to me that he thought it was boring to talk to old people, now he knows he was wrong. I wonder if it was a compliment or the opposite.
Anyway, the talk became a habit. I often avoiding going to the boarding house early in the morning (because guarantee he will be late) or in the evening (because he will stay up and will be late the next morning)
He taught me to strum guitar, I wrote letters for him (even provided the stationery) to his one and only greatest love Tracy Ann.(the most prettiest girl in the neighbourhood!)We had a lot of fun together with other in the boarding house, Playing cards, singing in videoke, going picnics, climbing over the fence of the school just to sit on the roof watching the full moon.
MONDAY was a very handsome . I do not know any girl in town who didn't have a crush on him at some point in their academic year.
He's in a pilot class and always in top 5, a campus personality, a dancer, a singer and captain of CAT.
If look at him, talk to him; NO ONE WILL SUSPECT what really lies beneath. Nobody would ever guessed that his father drinks too much, his mother working out of town God knows where, that MONDAY had to stretch 100 pesos the whole week sometimes 2weeks. Depends on how fast his mother could send his allowance.
That he owes my godmother more than 3 months rent. That he eats his portion of rice in his room because he's ashamed for other boarders to see that he eats it with tsicharon or cornbits or what ever 1 peso could buy. That he's washing buses till late at night to earn pocket money. Or he was forced to play cards till 4:00a.m to pay for his projects.
I offered money to him several times and said i am going to talk to his mother but he refused both flat out. He never tells me the reason why. I was worried about him. He’s almost as old as my . If only my niece was as dedicated as he was regarding her studies. No, my niece thinks she was born an Onassis or a Trump.
The last time I saw MONDAY, I hardly recognize him. I knew right away that he jumped over the line. He crossed it. I first heard it from my hairdresser and Monday confirmed it. He said:
‘It’s hard not to have money in my pocket. Besides, they do IT to me, never ME DO IT to them.'
I told him if he thinks there is a difference. HE said:' believe me or not, I do not sink that low yet.'
My heart bleeds. I cannot understand his parents. MONDAY was an only . IF I have him as mine, I will do anything to be sure that he got the best. But then again, I do not know what is the real reasons behind; and probably, I will never know.
The last thing I heard about him was from my mother. She told me MONDAY didn't go to college and he's working somewhere in LAGUNA. I can't help it, but I find it a waste. A waste of a bright mind, and a wonderful .
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Eamon
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Posted:Apr 18, 2009 1:13 pm
Last Updated:Apr 19, 2009 4:20 pm 57843 Views
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It was Sunday. We always come to town on the same day. Every week the same boring routine. Except during Christmas and the usual holidays. Two more years and it will be over. I supposed to be glad; I was not.
Going down the stairs, I stopped. Who’s that? I didn’t realize there were people there!
She looked at me straight in the eyes; I did the same. Then I went to fetch water.
She brought sautéed bitter melon with egg for supper. We ate from the same plate. I didn’t ask her name. We lived opposite each other. Her place was the first I see when I wake up in the morning. I have no choice; it’s there.
We played cards. Sometimes for candies, other times for anything under the sun except money. (One of her rules) we did it mostly with her mother and niece; and Christian, my best friend. He is really loud and sleek. Why I never noticed it before? Strange...
She stayed. For a while at least.
I was surprised to find her waiting at my house in the mountain one evening; together with two of the girls I know. Out of nothing better to do she said. It became a habit. I liked it. But we were always surrounded with people. That was the other side of it.
Very different she is. Unusual was not even close. Weird could be it. I’m not sure.
Who cares? She can do something with her eyes. I don’t know exactly what it is. Kind of: saying everything, but really nothing. Very confusing.
She decided to take a boat in the middle of the night to go to an island opposite ours. I regretted telling her that the lights she was seeing was from a fiesta dance. I had to come. Can hardly let her go by herself? She’s not exactly alone. We all went with her. Well...almost. Monday stayed. we supposed to have mid-term exam the next morning. Parent needed was the order of the day. So furious was my father.
I never realized that staying up whole night walking, or sleeping on a bare concrete floor of some strange house could be fun. And that was only the start. I learned to lie and deceive. Even to myself.
Jumping out from the boarding house's window; skipping classes so I can go to the waterfalls, climbing onto the roof for no reason other than watching the moon, broke into someone’s empty house, spent a night in the cemetery playing spirit of the glass, walk for miles in the rain. I did all that because of her.
I remember getting off the vehicle I was in; even though I was half-way home, simply because I encountered the jeep she was riding. We spent the night together. What a pity not alone. Like I said; there were always others. We had some moments. But she always managed to elude the” what could and if”. I think things like that need practice. She must have done it quite a lot; she’s the master of it.
Funny, but she’s more accessible to others. I mean, closer. Like with my cousin. She shared a blanket. (For a picture that is. I still have it) She even sat next to Christian on the front of a closed shop in the dark and laughed. I hate my bestfriend for it. Does she know that he called her “hot”?
At the end she broke my heart. She lied big time. Not about her age or who she is. That was not important. It was something else. I can forgive her everything! The complicated song and dance; that stunt with Monday setting me up,the first kiss I never had, the phoney letter, losing that special rock i found on the beach and gave to her, everything! But not Dimple. I asked her. She denied! Why??? At the end, she let me find out. In the cruellest way possible; face-to-face., just like that.
She said: “Eamon, it simply cannot.”
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???
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Posted:Apr 16, 2009 6:28 pm
Last Updated:Apr 22, 2009 8:40 am 58232 Views
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what's going on?????
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it
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Posted:Apr 12, 2009 7:34 pm
Last Updated:Apr 23, 2009 4:48 pm 58132 Views
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I used to think that Enrique Iglesias is the most handsome man on earth. That was before I saw Eric Bana. Then I realized that the first one is getting old (age doesn’t suits him) and the latter I only fancy as Hector. So, that’s left only Nadal as the obvious choice till someone better comes along. And by that time I probably would not care anymore.
Another thing I’m good at is NOT talking about the things that hurts the most -like accidentally dropping (a) scissors on the top of my new vaio which left a deep un-repairable (this word together doesn’t exists in the dictionary) scratch that made me cry for 24 hours non-stop and had cost me a trip and probably a marriage (he’s the one who left my vaio on the floor tied to a radiator coz the cable of the security alarm isn’t that long) and a certain somebody who lost her sanity and roaming around. Or I can’t help because I’m too far to help pseudo-orphans. ( needs 30 percent financial care and 70 percent love) and millions of snap shots from the past which I am trying to erase without success.
Thinking all the stories which my mother told me are probably a combination of lies and wishful thinking. Like the time she told me how to be invisible. All I have to do is wait for the first born of an unwed mother to die and be there before he shed the last first tear of his young life (she said all people cry when they die) and collect the fluid and apply it over my own eyes and then again wait.
Just before midnight, the death itself will appear (my mother said that contrary to the myth, death is a very handsome guy who wears a hat (not a hood) and it’s the hat you’re after. Go grab it the first chance you get and head for the nearest body of water. As long as you’re in it, he can’t touch you. Liquid is his kryptonite ha ha.
Before dawn, he will disappear. Sunlight is equally fatal.
She said she personally know(n) somebody who managed to do it. And he used the hat to rob banks. Pity during one of the chases, the head gear got stuck on a branch and presto, the invisible man becomes visible. The police shot him dead. What would you know, crime does not pay.
I probably am boring you folks with my pointless venting so I shut up.
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X
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Posted:Apr 5, 2009 2:28 pm
Last Updated:Apr 19, 2009 11:08 pm 57993 Views
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I had a call from my today. It’s about a sofa-bed (in fact two sofa-beds. One round, one love seat) that she wanted to have. The thing(s) is humongous it cannot fit into an ordinary big car. In fact, I hired a moving van to bring them to its present location. So, I said: “why don’t your papa come and get it?”
Long silence at the other end of the phone, followed by series of nervous coughs, then she said in her duh voice: “You know he would never do it.”
Normally, this is the moment when I shut up and try to stir the conversation into more neutral ground like I always did in the past; but not this time. It’s been almost 6 years, the game have to be over by now. The guy didn’t even give back one single personal things of mine, not even a picture for fcking sakes!
Not that I didn’t ask for them. “It’s laying/hanging well here C. why should you want to disturb them?”
What sort of an answer is that? Because of him I missed birthdays, graduations, and important special events of my simply because he made them choose! What a very infantile thing to do! I always back out in the past for the sake of my ; I don’t want them to pick sides. I learned that if they prefer mine it always ended up in catastrophe. So I gave in and gave in and gave in. it’s like being married with him all over again.
I can’t understand why he’s mad at me? It supposed to be the other way around. He’s angry because I got away? Because he thought I would not do it? Or it is because I left him instead of he left me? Could be also that I went to somebody so young the guy could be his ? And I didn’t end up in the street like he wanted me to? I don’t know. All I want is for the emotional blackmails to be over.
So, I called his mother to ask why her is acting so idiotically all these years. And guess what the woman said to me…
She said because his precious only boy isn’t over me yet. (as if it explains everything) and if I were her (or vice versa) I will not hold my breath waiting for the wind to change because the middle age childish ’s of her will never get over me. I almost got a hearth attack! He has a GF now, they’re doing okay I heard. But she’s only the second choice my ex-mother-in-law said. And if one can’t have what one truly wants, they forced to settle for the next best thing.
I put down the phone thinking, how long I have to tolerate his shtty behaviour for the sake of my ?
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aaahhhh...
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Posted:Apr 5, 2009 1:38 pm
Last Updated:Apr 19, 2009 11:07 pm 57958 Views
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...it's good to be watered
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honestly
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Posted:Apr 3, 2009 12:50 pm
Last Updated:Apr 20, 2009 8:14 am 61704 Views
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I will never marry someone I am in love with (not that the opportunity presented itself already) I find it a very dangerous thing to do. One might say living with somebody one is not in love with = unhappy. A very big BS! Who says being in love (or loving somebody) is a synonym for happiness? For what I saw/read/heard (listen to most songs) it is mostly the opposite.( Un)luckily, I never had the chance yet to encounter the dilemma of choosing for as I said before, I am yet to fall. (Except for that almost one time and he turned out to be my nephew by first cousin, how happy could that be) *I had to interrupt a business of cutting my split ends ‒mostly paint- which is a very important task because split ends you could only clearly see in certain lights. The best location I found out is in the car with panoramic glass roof like Peugeot 307 break while someone is driving it- to write this blog which suddenly popped in my head while in my dressing room sitting by the window overlooking the street* So, if I’m going to pick between comfortable unhappy and uncomfortable unhappy… well, the decision is quickly made. (How could someone be happy being uncomfortable?) and how anybody could love somebody who is making them that? i wonder...
But yeah,
To each his own it's plain to see
To walk alone you have to be
It's all for you and all for me, you'll see
Or its lovely promise won't come true
To each his own,
What good is a song if the words just don't belong?
If a flame is to grow there must be a glow
To open each door there's a key
To each his own, I've found my own
Nothing can be permanent
Nothing set in stone
Never try to fool yourself
That you are not alone
Know your place don’t chance your arm
Your secrets are all known
Never cross the great divide
Each to his own
Dont misunderstand me, don’t be hurt, don’t take offence
But what I am about to tell you makes a lot of sense
But being happy only takes a restless heart so far
Be thankful for the past but know those times wont come again
In every rule there is an exception. One got to believe what one wants to believe. A man’s got to do what a man’s got do. Thank you.
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