Blogging from blogdesk. because I cannot afford any more screw-ups.
So, I have managed to find another one of those post offline things. Something called Blogdesk. It is a minimal-looking app that allows you to post entries on a little wsiwyg notepad looking env, and manage all your blogs on one view.
But I am not really here to pimp about it. I am merely testing it’s usefulness to me. The setup was a bit meh. But I like how it looks. Visual representation means a lot to me. It’s seems like a very easy GUI. I think any simpleton who writes on a blog can actually setup this one.
Some idiot recommended Windows Live Writer. And I cancelled the download immediately when I see it’s 6MB out of 133. Oh puhleeze.
What else do I have to say. I don’t really know. I will be watching Angels and Demons this saturday on the seat that I do not like. I am totally pulling a Sheldon here. (In reference to the big bang theory.) Ah wells. Nothing I can do about it.
As I suddenly remembered what I wanted to say. All I can remember is I was at the bus stop. I was enjoying the cool breeze and the night sky. It was already 10ish. I was having too much time talking and listening. 5 or 6 buses came and went. But we kept on talking until I knew I had to pull away or I won’t go back until the wee hours again. for once I wasn’t worried or feeling any dread or any horrible consequence, it was a completely light-hearted and friendly conversation that ended and there could be others.
Hopefully there would be more interesting days like this :) I would like to think I deserve it, from all the heartache and pain.
A real entry. (Because I still can. :P)
While waiting for the latest source code to download for a particular workspace, I would like to reiterate several moments starting last Sunday. It was a week without certain obligations and responsibilities, the person went back to fulfill some duties he sorely missed so I told myself to keep busy this entire week. I went on a whim and bought a lot of books, more than I could read in a span of a week, and started this little eherm, “Pilgrimage of Loneliness” as I have said to a friend, who laughed and told me I was becoming emo.
It was a Monday. So I park my diminishing, full-tank Silver Altis into Powerplant like I always did for the past 2 weeks. I got out carrying 11 minutes, my backpack stuffed with dirty clothes, and my wallet. I went to Joya, found the beautifully designed 7-11 at the Manansala and bought some cigarettes. In which I was contemplating which coffee shop to make my mark. I spotted a Figaro at Joya, but settled to have a Hazelnut Latte at UCC.
I sat comfortably and began to read about the story of Maria, who, was once upon a time, a prostitute. It was interesting as well as intriguing to have such a strong and inquisitive character to be led of a path that is completely familiar for us but we tend to shove it away, making it an underground dealing with society.
The air was cool and the sun has barely risen from the the plants where I was hidden smoking stick after stick until the shade wasn’t high enough to save me from the heat. I went to work full of anxiety and doubt. Like I always have when I went home and faced my mother again. But it will be different tomorrow.
Tuesday rolled around and we were off to a late start. My sister told me today that she ended up in school at 8am (her work starts at 7:30). And I was having a hard time looking for the Guadalupe-Cartimar jeep since the rush hour crowd arrived and I was already nearing Roxas before I was able to jump into one alongside other commuters for the ride to work.
I got to the office at around 8 as well. I grabbed my book, a wallet and the quickly diminishing carton of menthol lights and did the 10 minute walk from our building to the Columns, I was growing to love that place and I will miss it when we move near Makati Ave. but let’s not dwell on that.
One small street, one underpass and a huge intersection later, I was at the gorgeous 3 tower building of the Columns, and I headed to my favorite coffee place, Kopi Roti, ordered Coffee and toast, and settled myself outside reading and drinking and smoking and feeling basically euphoric.The toast was warm and delicious, like honey-butter, and the coffee was perfectly bittersweet.
It was a very nice day.
30 minutes later, the toast were reduced to crumbs and the coffee was nearly through. There was a need for more so I went in and ordered another cup, this time Milk tea, and went out to read again. The words of Paulo Coehlo was endearing and luscious to the brain and gently squeezes the heart with affection. The simple humor inserted to the story was enough to give me little smiles and released an aura that was bright and golden, like the sun that day and on the clear blue sky.
Halfway done, I got up and wobbled back to the streets. My heart and mind was totally at peace. And it made my soul smile for real for the first time after a couple of months of breaking down in tears and all the other angst that should have been erased in my teen years was present.
I continued on passing steel and glass buildings of modern architecture, people all rushing to get where they’re supposed to go, all of them look like mindless beings, each going to start the day and wishing that it is already finished, those who have ended the day and wishing it would soon start again. And those who pray for the weekend to come until they pray for another weekend. The cars, jeeps, buses and taxis all follow through the same route. Their horns blared through the streets.This was how the whole Makati Central Business District looked like in my drunken eyes. Drunk in a sense of new found realizations all for those silly hours in a coffee establishment with my feet propped up the chair, in olive green gauchos and a flowery white blouse.
I walked and wondered what the people that I passed by were thinking. The enlightenment that I had discovered made me a bit more like my old self, the person who I was when I was still away from Manila. The one who thought that you can only achieve happiness by leaving.
But I am here. And I felt the same way 2 years ago. Skipping along IT park, slurping an Apple Ice Lolly in my hands and feeling free, the same person last year who had the sense of reason to live and go to beaches, eat nice food, go to theaters and go home as late as I wanted.
I don’t have all those things here. But I know I am lucky for a lot of reasons.
I went to work feeling better about myself than how I felt that Monday.
After 8 hours, lunch, and the journey home, I stood at the not-so-usual side of Buendia, instead of the MSE building, waiting for a jeep to pass by.
Being spoiled at shuttle rides and the ever efficient but not so MRT, I had a hard time adjusting to the crowd at Gil Puyat, I forced myself to go LRT->MRT->Ayala loop, but I got over it, and I am as ruthless as they are. But a tad more logical. And I say that without arrogance.
When I was dropped off at the Japanese restaurant at Buendia, I was able to see a Divisoria jeep. And I hopped on and took a trip that revolved many parts of my life.
I have seen various sightings of San’s old car, the lovely Crosswind that he used to pick me up and drop me off my house. The streets where I ran after Ogie when he was running away from me. I saw the SM Fairview FX where he would always ride to and from school, the now widened entrance of South gate, where I saw Mark again, and the fake columned gox building which was a home for 4 years and where I met Ben whom we took on graduation, side by side and seated on the same cubicle at work until it was time for our resignation. I got off at the church and walked towards home. I nissan sentra like the one Otep had and driven me around Cebu ran pass the place where I was baptized as a Catholic. The grocery which I prowled for this certain type of noodles that I never saw anymore. I walked pass Benavides, a street with either a “z” or an “s” it will always be an “s” for me.
It was only Masangkay street, but I was already feeling the lethargy, I took a break eating fishballs and continued until I reached the little bridge where I pass by to go meet people from St. Stephen, or the only sole date I had with my first love, amongst twister fries and coke. Then it was my old alma matter, a place full of broken dreams and unrequited love, but I found true friendship. People who’ll stick by you no matter what, from the Devon Sawa, Andrew Keegan jokes, the beautiful old snail mails, cheers and jolly hotdogs, and all else that is wonderful.
Pure nostalgia engulfed my senses as I was reaching the endpoint of this mini saga. It was the 5 minute walk home. There was a time when Lunch can still be taken outside the school, I met a friend whom shared the same walk and book preference.
At last here is home. The five-story building which I remembered clearly my 6 year old self, trying to stuff my clothes in a little metal suitcase. But only the bathrobe fit. *laughs. Where I spent most of the days now in my room glued to my laptop or sleeping, or getting home “late” (Define late), and basically having either fights or silent treatments and the wanting to leave quickens then sort of settled.
This was how my Tuesday ended. I was full of thoughts, but not one made me feel like the world owed me something, but mostly, it’s me thanking the world for giving me such a colorful life.
I am beginning to see how pretty life can be. I hope I take those thoughts with me each and every single day for the rest of my time here on earth.
yay for care packages! :)
i got to the office at 7:20 am. still bleary-eyed from lack of sleep (i always am lacking sleep, no matter how early i sleep). i saw this little package under my desk.
ah, well to my excitement i just took a picture of what’s inside :D
replacing pain with fear-induced, adrenaline-rushed, monster attacking mayhem
While I was driving to the office today, I remembered something really out-of-the-blue.
Rewind to 2006. I was finding ways to get over pain, I was belching smoke like a badly tuned-up car, my coffee expenses were rocketing sky-high, but as soon as I get home, the nightmares start.
And most of the time, I was at home.
I had to find something to do. So I plugged in my PS2, and went in a search for games that didn’t remind me of him.
Fat chance.
So I asked a friend to let me borrow some CDs, and he gave me Resident Evil 4 (RE4) among the mix.
Resident Evil was memorable for me. Back in highschool where PS1 had Biohazard, I remember flinging the controller and running for dear life from being scared to death of zombies, the sound effects and the really bad aura.
So I decided to go for it. After all,I felt sunk, it didn’t really matter if I was scared to death. In fact, the whole pain+fear+agony was enough for my masochistic tendencies. LOL
The first part was the crappiest. Adrenaline was pumping, the fear was multiplied, and each moan and each creak sent me jumping off my seat. Until I was beyond a hour of gameplay, then 2, until I went on. Getting new guns, getting new amo, continuing the plot, and still jumping every now and then from the vibrate of the cellphone.
Up to date, I finished RE4 around 2-3 times just to get the cooler guns.
I have no idea if it helped me, but I guess it sorta did. I was too busy feeling the fear that I forgot some of the pain, plus imagining every crazed, possessed, monster dude in the game was the guy, and I was head-shooting, suplexing, and beating them to a pulp, was a reliever.
I guess if I was going to be asked on ways to get over a guy, I would say.
Play RE4…
humbled
I have always been a proud person. Proud in a sense of being filled to the brim with pride and really never knowing how to back down even if I was totally losing. It’s probably the Leo in me, or it’s one of the Ting traits I got *shrudder*
Looking way back, it was hard for people to tell me off. Seriously. I don’t mind when it comes to let’s say things I need to improve on like work, photography, web designs and the like, but if you berate my principles just because it’s different from yours or you think mine is wrong for purely illegitimate reasons, run for the hills baby, run for the hills.
But never mind that, some people (or one for that matter) have that power to say it in such a way, that I would be humbled beyond my means. In a way with such logic and tenderness that I would still get all bratty and later (approx. in a range of 5 minutes to a day) when the thoughts sink in, I turn into a meek little lamb, and apologize.
Just like this morning, when I got bratty about being called for lunch, he gave me some new perspective if it was in another way. And yes (see 3rd paragraph), I woke up near 3pm with dreams of car crashes and maybe a whole lot of guilt.
I don’t know why or how my heart melts quickly for you, but it really does.
I guess there is really someone who knew how to tame the lioness in me.
the proposal ♥
If you’re updated in the Neil Gaiman world, you would probably know about this and this. If you aren’t then you should go check it out.
I have never seen myself in that sort of position. You know, the kind of things that only happens in the movies, books, tv, and basically all else that is purely fictional (unless it was relatively disastrous events then yes, I have seen myself in movies, books, tv, and whatnots). So, it was fun and so touching seeing the magic come alive once in a while. To see that unimaginable things really do happen to people if really put in all their efforts to go get it. In fact, the whole world seems to conspire them to have the craziest and coolest shit. And it wasn’t hitting the fan. ^_^v
Wow, I wonder when will I be that lucky :P
I never knew I could laugh this hard
There were times, where I wonder if I could ever be happy. You know, the rolling on the floor, laughing my ass off, giddy-childish, not-a-care-in-the-world, like-a-retarded-dog-ass happy.
If you asked me that a couple of years ago, and a few more years ago, I would give you a resounding, fucking, screw you “No”. I was little miss emo-bitch, I was so gloomy and underneath it all, it seems that I don’t need to join the dark side anymore. I *am* the dark side.
The world was a freaking mess. I was tossed with shit and I can’t really catch all of it, and it just kept hitting at my face, until I couldn’t take it anymore. I have deduced that life will always bitch slap me even if I don’t really need it, just because it wants to.
It wasn’t really unfair to think about it that way, but that’s how the usual road worked for me before. If you can look at my past entries, I always moan and groan about falling into some shit hole. And the smile that cannot truly reach my eyes, of if it will, I know some bastard have put detour signs towards void and null.
Life can really make you eat your words at the most weirdest of times, as I write this entry, there’s a stupid grin on my face. It’s been there quite sometime now. I have transformed from mean, emo and bitchy to mean, happy and bitchy. There wasn’t a day you’d see smiling like an idiot in front of the laptop or when a message lights up on my mobile, I would be caught during lunch breaks downstairs smoking a stick or two, but not from pain of some sort, but just smoking. With one hand holding my phone and chatting up a storm in a mixed match dialect of Filipino, English, Bisaya and sometimes a little Chinese.
I would croon songs from my ipod to bewildered colleagues, and run around them serenading in my crappy voice until they would be laughing as I danced and skipped in the hallway strapped with white neckband earphones, bursting in radiance. But I would still strut around work in a smirk, still swearing but giddy, still angry but jokingly. It was hard to keep a hardass face lately.
I became nice to people I was mean to before, in fact, I began to lighten up. A sparkle lit up my eyes, and it was no reflection from the outside.
It was all in me, my heart was actually happy, and it was something I cannot believe could happen but it did.
Laughing used to be a Herculean effort. I have specific allotments of being happy like bad teleseryes jockeying a position for prime time slots. Once finished, I must stay sober until the next quota or I get all tired. I needed the commercials to go on. The bitch-breaks.
Now, simply put, I was as over quota-ed as a pr0n site exceeding bandwidth.
And I wish it could always be this way. Not the pr0n site, mind you. But being able to laugh deep down in the gut, without worries, without fears, is one of the best feelings in the world…
I am glad to be able to feel such an overwhelming emotion. I have never felt so completely alive, and so completely real.
thank you
