row, row, row your boat; gently down the street...

A day with your old friends is like a day with your old self. Not the self you wanted to outgrow, or the self you can’t wait to get rid of, or that self full of angst and hate and teen-ridden anxiety... but that version of you that somehow drew these fairly-cool people into adding you into the circle of people they allow to share themselves to. And you share yourself in return. And though time and distance may get between you along with several un-replied to text messages and unending game of tag in social media, when you are with your friends, there’s a certain feeling of home.

So the past weekend has been an unending parade of rain. And unlike most people who were wise enough to stay home, I feel like i went everywhere with where the winds go. Note to self: no matter how desperate you are for a run, going 2 hours away while a tropical depression is in the country is never a good idea. No matter what Boom says.

So the last Saturday morning, I was up with the sun that didn’t really rise to indulge a friend’s running enthusiasm to get to a place near the ocean to eventually watch trees sway with the wind and catch a raindrops falling from almost every direction. We were witness to different levels of flood in different parts of the metro (thankfully, none reaching mid calf and that we were always somewhere a little drier). I came home like a drowned cat and with an incomplete story to tell – all primers, no plot. We achieved nothing that day.

Yesterday was curry and roti day. It was fun to hang out with Saberdey Buklab especially with how little we actually see each other these days. I don’t think I’m the only one who misses hanging out every Saturday in Booksale to hoard, exchange and talk about books over a cup of coffee and watch the sun set and stars appear in the fortified walls of Intramuros. Sometimes it sucks growing up. Anyway, I learned to make roti and realized how insanely fast kids actually grow when you’re not looking.

making bread with robin

well, she's not yet big enough to fit under the table...

Now for some great chopping music...

It has been raining for an entire day.... it's amazing except when you're out there getting pummeled by thousand of cold raindrops while being whipped around by the wind.

I feel like I had nothing done today... hahaha. In truth, I was out of the house for most of the day dancing around with the wind and embracing raindrops and leaving my nth cheap umbrella some place where it hopefully was available to help someone to avoid being dripping wet on the way home... unlike me, 

Rain is best enjoyed with music and coffee... and though my preoccupation with downloading the latest idiotic app on my new-old phone, enjoy one of the things that made me laugh and appreciate music all over again... (now, where can i download JS Bach...)

from the ashes...

"It made her wonder if you could know a person only at a single moment in time, because a year from now or a day from now, he might be different. It made her wonder if everyone reinvented himself or herself, if that was as natural as other animals shedding their skin." Jodi Picoult, 10th Circle

Two years since I’ve been here last. I feel like I grew to be a different person in the vast silence of more than 700 days. But I’m back. I feel as if I need to be.

I feel like I hardly know myself these days. Like there is this widening chasm from the person I once was and to whom I am becoming, I haven’t decided yet if it’s something I like. In one hand, I no longer have the urge to dig out a rusty blade and carve poetry in the inside of my wrists; on the other, I also stopped carving my soul in paper and shaping this confusing mass into something I can make sense of. In some way, I miss the sleepless moments I struggle with the voice inside my head for some sort of meaning – that tinny voice that answered back in Rilke’s question you need to answer in the deepest and darkest of your day… Now, I have successfully drowned out myself.

I look around here and wish I could start again. I have forgotten what it feels like to begin, to see the blank page as free and untarnished rather than a bandage to cover for all the empty days and pages.

But it might be braver to continue.

… and less of a hassle.

i hope you're having the time of your life...

i can barely remember the times when i barely feel exhausted. i feel like i'm always trying to squeeze in 15 more minutes of sleep, one more hour of rest, one more day just... i don't know, numb? stupid?

i wanna be all emo and stuff and wail pseudo angsty and totally cliche stuff like 'i don't know who i am anymore' or 'nobody loves me i want to die' (sorry kim, that's still never gonna get old) but heck, even if there is a measure of truth in those... i don't care anymore.

i'm tired. everything feels pointless again. what am i doing? why am i doing this? why can't i just waste away locked in padded room somewhere? (okay, kidding)

i used to have a life... well, okay, i've never really had an exciting existence, but it was peaceful (a lot of the time boring...) and almost exhaustion-free. i had time to read books and browse for movies on a weekday or at least hang out at a booksale dreaming about books i'm going to read someday.

i'll get that life back... just one more year, right?

remember, remember the 5th of September?

I had it all figured out. The week of my birthday, I am on leave from work free to do whatever for the week and sleep the entire Friday away, not mentioning or even thinking of my birthday at all.

Thursday morning, I woke up as Imago’s The Box (my message alert tone) vibrated on my pillow telling me to call work. A few minutes later, I’m set to come in later that night and come in on Friday. There goes all my plans to mope around and get all broody and lazy which is just how I think a turn of another year should be celabrated, like dying and being born again, full of angst and waiting and mostly nothing but sleep. I used to be more active, I’d actually make the effort to go out of the house and numb my brain with mindless pop movies cinema hopping and high on caramelized popcorn.

But not this year (nor for any other past years that I remember).

A year older, I don’t feel it. Actually what I feel is a sore throat and sore muscles, lack of sleep and the tendency to remain awake in a super bright room filled with chattering people even if I hide myself under the cube we use as a quasi-apartment/motel (it’s all filled with small square pillows and blankies, separated from the world mostly). I also feel the need to prepare all I need for my training tonight that I told myself I wouldn’t think off not until 10pm later this evening when I come in for my 12am training. No, I’m not saying I work that hard, I would probably come in a little closer to twelve tonight since I already somehow have an idea of what I am going to do. Anyway, that’s not important, I’m just blabbing.

So, it’s the 5^th of September, almost exactly 23 years since I was born, what have I done with my life?

See? I told you brooding and angst is called for, not to mention an entire day of sleeping, or mind numbing TV, or a movie marathon of classic proportions, or sleep, yeah, sleep… and cake! Who could forget cake?