092319

What's been going on:

= /still/ adjusting in a new job and setup, 

trying to outgrow the things used to

learning a different language of love

= routine's been the most structured one for the last decade

/still/ finding way around

discoveries, humbling discoveries

= never thought of what might be /until these days/

paths have never been an issue /until these days/

options, choices, decisions

= recovering from wounds and pains

reconciling realities about self and the lies that deformed it

searching for the lost innocence on world and humanity

The Woman That You Are

You will never be the woman you envy. 

As you read that line, her face comes to mind. Her expressive eyes, her lips when they curve into a smile. You remember the vigor she has or that gentleness in her when she walks. You remember her bright ideas. You remember her quietness. You remember her enthusiasm at life. You remember the way she is hopeful and light, or that reserved spirit that makes her a mystery. Why does she have to be this feminine? Why does she have to walk on the career path you want for yourself? All these features you remember with ache, all images quiet insults against your confidence. 

She could be anyone to you— the top student from gradeschool, that woman on a famous TV series, your best friend, your love’s past flame, or the woman he loves. She may be someone you know closely or someone who is unaware of you. 

But she’s always there. 

When you shop and look at yourself in the mirror, “do I get to look a little more like her?” or when you run downstairs in a hurry, making sure you project a completely different person, a person who could be more than her or could be from a completely different pole... she’s there. You do your best to take her out of your system, you try your best to find her in you.

But within you is you.

As you remember her, the soul within you hopes for the day you would recognize you. Oh, that you’d see that you have a sweet way in you, that you gasp when you see something you find lovely, or that you’d know that that gentle smile in your eyes is enough of an expression. The woman in you waits for you to express your unique artistry, or that you’d know that your dark eyes which are too deep or too small beholds a million stories. You like dancing but your feet won’t coordinate with the beat of the music, but still, you are your own fun person. Do you recall your best childhood memories running around hiding behind trees under the moonlight? 

You may try to be her, the woman you envy. But within you is an irreplaceable being only you can embody. And you are enough. That soul doesn’t limit you from admiring and crowning other women with words that they deserve, no, you don’t. Your soul even hopes that you could be inspired by her, but your soul hopes that as you recognize all these other women’s feats, you’d recognize yours as well. I hope you see that your cage locks you away from your own light. I hope you see that the woman in you is worth fighting for, worth believing, worth living up to. 

You are your own season. You are your own form. You are your own story. And you, you are enough to be free, to be celebrated, to be loved. 

Just as when you were created, He already knew your inward parts, knew your substance even when you were yet unformed (Psalm 139). You have been created with wisdom. You have been created with love. That makes you enough. 

So, no, you will not be her, but someone better for the life you own. You have always been designed to be you. 

052219

Lately,
= still trying to find reasons for what had been and seeing almost the same shadows cast 
= the darkness is still, but the time is almost dawn, it could be a cause of fear, but the time is ripening
= words and gestures marred the heart-- frustrating dreams that are still unbirthed to, but the resort will always be another step forward, and then, another one
= beauty is relative, but... yes, beauty is relative
= Loneliness is friendly and its subtle smiles keep on bothering me, I would have wanted out, but the conversations with it are quite engaging
= cut ties and deep wounds are drying up
= the skies still close its light and later on, break out as it should

Some Words Long Overdue

It's a Sunday. Early in the day today,  I found myself translating other people's reflections to my own, and I remembered much about writing and expressing, later on finding myself moving along my keys writing these words. I thought of getting my morning chores done before proceeding to talking about what's been going on with me, but I thought better of it. Lately, it's been quite rare to find the words and I realized that I should succumb to their calling whenever they want to be squeezed out.

It has been too much contemplation and reflection on life's ongoings and the lack of it. I have been residing in a sanctuary, waiting to be refueled to get back to life and proper living. 2018 has been my greatest landslide yet, containing some of the biggest decisions in my life, a sickness that did its best to drain me of all my beauty (except that hope was kind of too stubborn it left some remnants in here), and realizations on humans and relations that kind of changed the way my life goes.

To be honest, I'm quite panicky writing this after what feels like endless yesterdays of darkness and dullness, that I'm not even sure if I'm familiar with the dynamics pre-existent on this realm, but here we go.

These are the inscriptions some of the shards of my heart have.

I have been losing my appetite for books. I have been trying to recollect myself to focus on one thing and yet, while my eyes do their best to keep rooted on the pages, my brain wills itself to wander around. It has been a torment to my being to change courses in life on a matter as deep as this, but I'm still not giving up on this one. Not as long as I can identify words and be identified with them.

Anxiety and depression are the daily battles I win over! Drastic is not enough of a word to describe the turns of events that occurred within and around my being ever since A&D chose to surface. There were moments when I felt alienated to my own skin and when I found myself treading upon roads of thorns and thistles... and yet, I am still here, trying not to make this thing the main thing about me.

I am dreaming... again. Finding myself rerouting or seeing new perspectives and it has been quite refreshing-- an oasis to my season. I am so thankful that the sun chooses to shine even when storms and winds come and go as casually as a neighbor bringing some tidings. There are so many things yet to happen and though there had been testimonies of people who gave in to their fears and that these surface my own fears, I try to block that noise out and focus on the beauty within.

Self-discovery is my current game. It gets surprising how effortless this has been, the way I'd go to my heart and perceive how it runs and processes information over, how it just chooses to let go or repress a feeling so strong yet so strange, or the way I look at myself when I let words go in rage or by impulse. I may have profiled too many people in the past and yet, the most confusing soul to comprehend is that one within my skin.

God has loved me with an everlasting love. It's not even a question of whether I'd survive apart from this knowledge. I am completely amazed at how I have been saved from those moments when giving up was a plan and when puzzles chose to be incomplete.


How do I find reasons to still be and to still do? It's impossible to even answer this at all. I would have wanted to be intelligent about it, but I remember those days I spent rolling on the bed, wishing that I'd be home to my heavenly dwelling, and thinking that the only success criterion of my days would be when I could take a bath and change my clothes... when my thoughts lacked reason and my heart lost chances. But this is one thing I'd say, I found my feet still walking even after it has raced on miles of wounds. I am alive and each day requires me to just report and go through the day in whatever form I could present myself with, may it be with my unkempt form or my calculated appearance. And each day that goes by, I find myself in a metamorphic process of becoming, in that, the way I drained of hope yesterday isn't the way I look at things today. There are reasons to thrive and be. Each pain that scratches me off my past reveals to me a new purpose at existence, and for now, I let these little reasons be big enough for me.

Voices

I've learned to modify and discern voices

If you listen closely,

You would know there's a lot to them

There are those which try to be calm

And those which have been trained to calm

Listen to those which rage with emotions

And those who take pride in its sanguine joviality

Have you been attracted

To those who flatter and intimidate with its confidence?

And those who arouse with its mysteriousness?

But there are those who show

Nothing beyond what's visible to the naked eye

Let through that which pierces

Oh, wouldn't you want 

A voice of kindness which says, "I understand"?

There are those which say too much

And those who could have said more

Voices of exhaustion and of innocence

Sometimes, well, more often than not, meet aboard

Why I Don't Like Coffee and Other Things Related

Sipping from my Roasted Rice Tea, I think of how I've never been a fan of coffee and how, for unknown reasons, my soul has found consolation from almost all types of tea (except mint, oh no, not mint). I've been here for almost an hour now, here in this coffee shop near my place. I think of how fun it would have been to have that daily routine of grabbing coffee in the neighborhood's dear coffee shop in the wee hours of the morning. Yeah, something Lorelai and Rory are likely to do. And again, I am reminded of how I just don't like coffee, but it also sends me this crazy feeling in my tummy whenever I take any form of it (jelly, candy, drink, etc). But it's not like I've never craved for it all my life.

Growing up, we have been trained to think that coffee is just for adults because it dulls the delicate brain of a kid, my mom would say. I remember now how I used to envy my cousins whose breakfast won't go without a cup of instant coffee, sometimes, having it as the sole element in their meal. Come to think of it, I now remember some cousins who would have real rice turned into coffee, by adding hot water to the toasted part of the rice or what we call tutong. And that'd be the most they'd have for breakfast. I used to envy them because they drink something I was denied of. Coffee never made it to the cut of our usual breakfast composed of rice, meat/fish and hot milk. Never coffee for the kids in our household.

About a decade later, when I was taking my degree, I tried to be more open with the food and drinks I take. During exams seasons, different types of coffee would be out there. It's the usual, the savior. The companion to the sleepless nights of reviewing and doing requirements. When I was in my first few semesters, I tried imitating what my schoolmates, or should I say "university colleagues", would do. I  did drink coffee a few times and it just didn't seem to work for me: I would still sleep when I want to. But there was this time when I indulged to a recommendation by a colleague, which involved getting really caffeinated. It was when I was gonna review for a Chemistry exam (a subject I barely got into good terms with, that, I'm pretty sure until now, I only passed out of my professor's grace and kindness seeing I've taken removal exams for too many times already), which I was gonna have the next day itself. I wasn't the type who would review early on, and since I don't enjoy Chemistry, I don't get down to studying it until the last few hours prior the exam. Well, here was the recommendation: 2 bottles of 8-ounce Coke each and a cup of instant Original Nescafe. The thing is, I have to drink them all at once and it would keep me up for the rest of the night. For those who know how the brain works, imagine how that kind of mix would shoot up the neurons. And did I drink it? I did. And did I stay up until it was very late? Well, surely, I did. But did I have a great time studying and keeping alert throughout all that time I was up? Well, here's what happened. Half an hour or so after taking the booster, my mind was already getting frozen. I was slowly getting inattentive and I started hating how my brain became hazy. I just wasn't able to focus on my exercises so I had to stop reviewing and headed on to sleep. Which I wasn't able to do as well. All I did was stare out into spaces and stuff around me. I felt like a robot as I lied still in my bed until the night has birthed into day, The next day, my eyes were dry and I knew I was gonna flunk my exam. I dreaded that so much. It's not that I wasn't able to review and that I was gonna fail, which I think, would happen in any other way. But it's that I wasn't able to get my sleep. So, that's the end of coffee and me. It's been 6 years since.

Ever since that long and tragic night, I've learned to order non-coffee drinks in coffee shops. My tongue has become very sensitive of the taste of it, that I know the subtle pierce it has when I accidentally take anything that has coffee in it (except for my tiramisu). I've always resorted to getting myself chocolate drinks, but since I've been gaining some weight on, I had to shift my orders into something less fatty as chocolate frappes. Which, somewhere along that period, led me to my very much loved drink: tea. There's just something so subtle yet confronting about this drink that I couldn't give name to.

Oh well, I gotta sip the rest of my tea and head back home. It's been a Friday. It's been a week. And a gloomy one for that. Just a few more minutes and would take this thinking back home.

080518

Morning dismissed
Catering to unknown
Yet existent
Frozen chest
Accommodating secrets
Nobody understands
Caught the suffering
Of being the "other"
Trying to believe
When all seem to falter
Ahead and forward
Usual movement
Unsure and uncertain
Common state
Wondering despite
Hoping against
Questions on sunrise
Still unattended

Donuts and Marvel

Currently: Drinking Mango Kreme Chiller and Munching on Krispy Kreme donuts
Watching: Marvel movies
Weather: Extremely rainy
Just quickly typing some thoughts in...

Wow, it's been a while since I last wrote a narrative here, since I last ate donuts, and since I've chilled life out in this manner!! I am super thrilled.

Since last night I've been going on an MCU marathon, starting with Doctor Strange, followed by Thor: Ragnarok, then The Avengers (2012), and about to watch Captain America: Civil War. This has been triggered by my recent viewing of Ant-man and The Wasp, and I just felt like I missed all these superheroes that I wanted to see them all over again. And here I am growing in how I view and love them as I watch the movies they're in again. I found myself crying on the last part of The Avengers even if I've seen the movie many times before. What was going on in my heart is really deeply sentimental, something that tackles our/my need for superheroes and all that stuff.

While watching, I realized that I'm craving for donuts so I quickly changed clothes and grabbed donuts and chiller from Krispy Kreme (which is just in the next street). Oh, the feeling of walking in the rain with a paper bag of donuts and a plastic glass of chiller on the hands? It's been too long since life has been this incredibly kind.

I am very much free in thinking the past two days, and I realized that I have been so hard on myself for the past months that I missed out on chilling and spending time alone with myself. Hearing myself squealing, cheering on, commenting on the movies all on my own makes me realize that maybe there's this huge space in my heart to be secluded and be freed from everything every once in a while. It's just some kind of a rest for the heart and mind. It's not just the activity, but the choice to live out the past hours in this way that makes the whole thing relaxing.

I feel something which I haven't gone through in the recent past. Freedom and independence? Experience and meditation on art? Identification with and entering the worlds of fictional characters? Probably none of these, some of these or all of it, but what I wanna say is that this meaningful time with the self is essential and necessary.

Back to my movies and food now!

Alright, books (from my perspective)

At the moment, I am currently reading a fantasy-themed book which has been known among readers as a tale about books, magic, and characters drawn right out from pages. While reading, I felt homesickness grow within me, I have started thinking of Middle-earth.

The tale I'm currently on is actually a nice one. Creative-wise, it is very much interesting and unique yet familiar in its form, but then, I felt something lacking. There's a spice missing. I continued on reading (and easily did I, because the words are easy and action is on point) and things started getting sorted out, that's where I started comparing. Thoughts like, "Had Tolkien written this, at this point the vulnerability of man has already been emphasized" or "In Middle-earth, this kind of angst would have created not just a world of trees and magic, but also a world of love and hatred." started popping up in my head. 

I am very much sorry if this sounds so much like I am being unfair to our beloved authors. I have this certain conviction of not comparing anyone against anyone, as I genuinely believe that each is to his/her own. The point here is the discovery of another important ingredient needed for a craft to mark the heart.

Most times, we have this tendency to constrain art within the want to create, which is totally fine. The onset of a creation begins with a thought to have it created, whatever the motive for its existence may have been. I've heard of people who create because there's an extensive need for them to materialize these bits and pieces trapped in their heads, to give a tangible picture for the abstract that's been occupying their thoughts. 

On the other hand, there are those who craft something out of their need to speak, to communicate, to allow a message to come to life; and surely, there's this gap in this kind of pieces as compared to the formerly stated when it comes to their power's measure. 

Being a good writer involves a special form of intelligence--to put into words nature and architecture, to give birth to humans with established personalities, to make things happen. But being a remarkable writer involves a special form of understanding and vulnerability. Humans exist within complexities of emotions and not just being entangled to life's events. We all are summaries of our victories and failures, of our convictions and perceptions. When a written being starts getting portrayed with a lack of acknowledgment on the inside struggle to believe when things get so dark, to love through distance, to reconcile and forgive, and all these very human attributes, the absence of the familiarity that we want to experience in the book on hand is felt. 

I speak from the perspective of someone who has been reading since I can remember, and could only testify about what I personally prefer, and could say I don't know much except how I usually feel and go through with the books that I ride hop into. Truly, there had been books that changed my life. And there were those that enlightened and inspired me to be more of who I am. Some pages fill in distinct voids in my life, and this is why I hope that crafts would be more about the struggle within. 

On Reality and Stuff

Oh, hello. This is another post (a kind which I have not done for quite some time now) wherein I promise to blabber with the random streaks of thoughts in my head, so expect it to be disorganized. 

As earlier noted, it's been quite some time since I have written something straightforward/essay-ish on this space. There had been a lot of things occupying my mind, life, and heart and I just felt a little protective about myself when it comes to being too vulnerable online, so I have been speaking in riddles or in poetry. But apparently today is a different one because I'm choosing to kind of let some words spill out, not in any hopes that a multitude would pass by this narrow street of thoughts (aka my blog), but in hopes that whoever might would kind of get inspired (???) *laughs because I'm quite unsure about what my greatest purpose for this is* 

Okay then. 

Hi again. 

If I would describe life at the moment I would say that it is a vast sheet of mysteries (aka uncertainties/guesses/risks/wonders). There was once a point in my existence that I thought things would get stagnant because they seemed so bright and fun and wild and free, and it felt as if nothing would go downhill and my greatest fear at that time was that I would cease learning because everything seemed great. Years after that, I feel like I would give everything to be back there. Serious and just kidding at the same time. 

Recently, things that some other young adults go through became real with me. I struggled through anxiety, recurring sadness, and much confusion about the people and world around. I tried to reevaluate personal values, backgrounds, and cultures. Decision-making, taking responsibility, speaking up, getting rebuked, learning-- all these and more took some major part in the past months of my life. But the one good thing about all these is that going through stuff like this, I became more founded in what I believe in and my knowledge about people and myself. It kind of sorts out tangles on my assessment and assumptions of the dynamics of the society and, here in front of me now is a clearer picture of the scary world called Reality. 

I'm 23 and I feel like I'm looking at a crossroads that's definitive of a huge amount of the future that follows after my next choice of step. Whatever I'll choose would mean much about this crazy adventure, and although I'm not afraid of it, it would bring discomfort not to be in the right place. As I'm gauging how to take on things from this point onward, I look at myself and try to work some self-discovery out and try to identify my values, personal visions, uniqueness, places of productivity, and other inner stuff that I can translate into outward acts-- although on these things, I'm still half-lost right now. 

The greatest thing about my latest journey probably is the extent of self-discovery that leads me to deeper worship to my Creator. I have learned that everything beyond my ideals is so complex that things can get frustrating when I come to see its reality that it becomes a wonder that favor and restoration can be found in the corners of this complex (to the point of damaging) ground. The lovely Author of everything has just shown me the depths of His unfailing love for me and so I have to learn to channel that out to those around me and especially to myself, that's why the most glorious weapons I can use at this point are understanding and forgiveness. 

At the end of all these, I just want to keep on seeing the beauty in existence, to appreciate the atrocities that allow me to see transformations, to believe when things get dim because they stretch my heart to be stronger. Thoughts like 'without challenges, there would be no victories', 'there would be no light if there's no dark', 'beauty would cease to exist in the absence of unpleasantness' became real to me. I realized that I can start seeing and giving a greater amount of love, hope and beauty because I have struggled with and seen brokenness and grief. 

Among the things I've resolved to do then is to be more free to express on paper (or on computer) and to explore the world up to its limits and to extend my hand and heart to love, affirm and forgive endlessly. It's not so bad then after all, even if I have no chance to go back to that all-sunny life I once had, because I realized that, through the broken and shattered walls of my being, Light could shine through.

(I'm ending this post with a lot of gaps in it. I feel like there's something more I want to add to it, or as the person who drafted this, I feel like I need to squeeze out more thoughts within me in this one, but this is it for now.)