It is overwhelming, how much I want you to touch me. How much I’d like to feel your fingertips on the blade of my clothed shoulders, lightly scratching, beckoning my hairs to stand on end, soldiers at full attention. I try not to think of those same fingers roaming up and around and all the ways, but my mind is already there and every other place it could put you and your warmth. There is a tightness when I breathe, like you’ve reached inside my ribs and told my heart to stop. To slow down. To not fill my lungs with the smoky tang of your leather jacket. When I close my eyes, I am back in the semi-darkness of your car, with that song from somewhere, the dark roads opening up before us, the lights loudly blinking. But there is only you beside me and those hands on the wheel that I follow, enraptured. I wish they gripped something else. And as much as I could, I don’t look at your face. I don’t look because there is no end after that. So I subtly stare at your knee, my veins pounding on my throat, wanting to brush imaginary lint at the top of your thigh.
You make me feel like I have already touched you. It embarrasses me. I wonder if you could see right through my eyes and into the fire. There is thrumming in my skin and it hums at the undulating closeness between us. And although I have to count the days til I am back with you in the dim secrecy of those two seats, I anticipate, with parted lips, all that is possible.
Showing posts with label thoughts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thoughts. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 11, 2018
Thursday, October 18, 2018
A Foreign Feeling
First off, let me just say that Japan is a dream. I do not live in Tokyo with its streets bursting with people and color. I live in Okayama, where the skyline is consistently green and blue (now subtly changing to orange and gray as fall prepares to land). It has a city with lively businesses and warm restaurants. But it does not seem preoccupied with trying to become the next big capital. It goes about its own pace, trams shuttling people on a strict schedule still, but with the residents having the distinct air of living in a routine that they do not mind continuing. People are never late here, but they are never in a hurry, either. They just move on along. This is especially true in the inaka, Japan’s version of the rural, where the rice paddies meld with the smooth cemented roads and pockets of supermarkets and drugstores. I am smack dab in the middle of this geographic limbo. Work is from eight to four, but what you do after is entirely up to you, the energy you have left, and the amount of trees you are willing to drive by in order to get somewhere.
Every morning, I wake up here in a daze of disbelief. It is not the kind of disbelief where I have to slap myself to ascertain reality, not the kind of disbelief where I jump up and down my worn yellow sofa bed at the sheer blessedness of being here. It is the kind where I half-expect to hear my dorm mates’ faint snores before I open my eyes or feel the toasty heat of sunlight on my legs from the window above my bed in my parents’ house. I absentmindedly tell myself, every morning, “You are not home.” And this unintentional mantra, I suppose, has dictated what I have been and am still feeling about being in this unfamiliar land.
For others, it may seem grim that I do not seem unequivocally ecstatic to be living in a first world country when my third world origins simply pale in comparison (even by the quality of tap water alone). I hear their curious voices ask if there is anything wrong with my apartment, colleagues, students, or me, because surely, I should acknowledge the absolute good fortune of being one of the chosen ones. But then, do I really need to be that thrilled to appreciate this new world? I think the quiet calm of discovering who I am in the midst of work, travel, and nothing-doing coats my Japanese experience in a fuzzy glow, a foreign feeling, that will linger in my heart long after I leave.
*This article was submitted for the JET Programme Voices column. Results pending.
Thursday, April 14, 2016
Revival of the Fittest
So I’m going to revive this blog by saying that I want to revive my other blog (the one on fashion, which I haven’t updated in years yet coincidentally, gets more hits than this one. Like what). I have been shopping constantly lately (despite the fact that I can't even feed myself three times a day), and although I’m pretty sure I will regret this in the very near future, I want to share my hauls with other cheap queens who would only wear H&M if it was an overrun.
UP Cebu
2. Watch an Up Dharma Down gig live
3. Go somewhere far, alone
4. Come up to a stranger I'm attracted to and tell him/her that I find him/her attractive
5. Design (and pay for) my dream bedroom
6. Read Pride and Prejudice in one day
7. Go on a candlelit dinner date
8. Buy my parents new wedding rings
9. Save 100k
10. Find a man who will love all of me
11. Go to a gay bar.
And there’s this, too:
1. Visit all UP campuses
UP Diliman
UP Baguio
UP Los Banos
3. Go somewhere far, alone
4. Come up to a stranger I'm attracted to and tell him/her that I find him/her attractive
5. Design (and pay for) my dream bedroom
6. Read Pride and Prejudice in one day
7. Go on a candlelit dinner date
8. Buy my parents new wedding rings
Apparently, straight guys still exist. And most importantly, I can still get one to like me.
Sunday, May 31, 2015
Nothing is Too Late
"Hi jaja your existence gives me hope for the human race <3"
Roughly a year ago, I was struggling with depression. Every day, I thought about killing myself. I never would have imagined that someone would ever say these words to me. It goes to show that no matter how useless you feel, there is someone out there who thinks the world is better because you decided to wake up one more time.
Roughly a year ago, I was struggling with depression. Every day, I thought about killing myself. I never would have imagined that someone would ever say these words to me. It goes to show that no matter how useless you feel, there is someone out there who thinks the world is better because you decided to wake up one more time.
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
2013 Christmas Wishlist
The last time I did this was several years ago, and all the items on my wishlist were as rare as unicorn blood. I learned from that mistake, so now I compiled a list of things that I can actually get for myself. If you find me attractive/pitiful/convincing (or some other combination of the three), I will not stop you if you want to buy them for me. After all, nothing exemplifies the spirit of giving more than spending your hard-earned money on someone you randomly know on Facebook.
1. Tuxedo Bag from Little Emily Shop
I have been on a hoarding spree on this site lately and I am absolutely in love with everything they sell. I actually wanted the backpack they sold before, but when I checked, it's no longer available. So I want this instead because it's a Tuxedo Bag. Come on.
2. Girly dress from TNC Manila
I am currently revamping my wardrobe to include other colors that actually look like colors rather than shadows. I also feel like I should reiterate the fact that I am a girl once in a while. Hence, this. I don't know how long it's going to stay available because it is a steal for its price (350php) so if no one wants to give to the Jaja Foundation, I may have to steal from my nephew's birthday money to get this.
3. Wallet from anywhere
I don't use wallets like normal people do (i.e. I don't put cash in it and just grad pictures of my college friends), but I've always carried one around. My old wallet is on a semi-permanent hiatus because it has decided to shed its "skin" inside my bag, so this is of a more urgent request rather than me just being materialistic. Although I totally am.
4. A Sketchbook
Even though I have not touched my current one in weeks, I think I'm going to pick up the hobby soon again because holidays = really shitty internet connection. When I first started sketching, I picked the cheapest one because I never thought I would actually draw something remotely resembling a human being, but so far, I have created the likenesses of Gretchen Barretto and Epi Quizon so I might be on to something here.
5. Pencils and Shading Stumps
I heard you needed these to draw on the sketchbook.
6. Boots from Little Emily Shop
No justification required.
7. A Boyfriend
LOL. I'm just kidding. I know you can't give me a boyfriend.
Wait.
You can?
No.
Seriously?
Okay, leave your number in the comments section and I'll get back to you in three years.
1. Tuxedo Bag from Little Emily Shop
I have been on a hoarding spree on this site lately and I am absolutely in love with everything they sell. I actually wanted the backpack they sold before, but when I checked, it's no longer available. So I want this instead because it's a Tuxedo Bag. Come on.
2. Girly dress from TNC Manila
I am currently revamping my wardrobe to include other colors that actually look like colors rather than shadows. I also feel like I should reiterate the fact that I am a girl once in a while. Hence, this. I don't know how long it's going to stay available because it is a steal for its price (350php) so if no one wants to give to the Jaja Foundation, I may have to steal from my nephew's birthday money to get this.
3. Wallet from anywhere
I don't use wallets like normal people do (i.e. I don't put cash in it and just grad pictures of my college friends), but I've always carried one around. My old wallet is on a semi-permanent hiatus because it has decided to shed its "skin" inside my bag, so this is of a more urgent request rather than me just being materialistic. Although I totally am.
4. A Sketchbook
Even though I have not touched my current one in weeks, I think I'm going to pick up the hobby soon again because holidays = really shitty internet connection. When I first started sketching, I picked the cheapest one because I never thought I would actually draw something remotely resembling a human being, but so far, I have created the likenesses of Gretchen Barretto and Epi Quizon so I might be on to something here.
5. Pencils and Shading Stumps
I heard you needed these to draw on the sketchbook.
6. Boots from Little Emily Shop
No justification required.
7. A Boyfriend
Wait.
You can?
No.
Seriously?
Okay, leave your number in the comments section and I'll get back to you in three years.
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
Helping Myself
I have been depressed for years.
The feeling goes away and comes back every now and then, but certain events in my life brought it back to the fore.
I can't eat, sleep, or function at work. I keep crying at random times and places, when hearing songs or listening to silence. I have bad dreams whenever I manage to doze off. I can't write my thesis (which is due in a month, by the way).
And so I decided, with much hesitation and second-guessing, to seek help. I'm now going through counseling.
I actually wanted to keep mum about the whole thing until it's over. But since this blog is read by approximately 0 people, I don't think posting about it will matter that much to others. To me, who has always written about anything and everything, it does, however.
A part of me hopes that people directly involved in my depression will reach out to me and make me feel better. But alas, I think it will remain wishful thinking. I will carry on, though, because there is nothing left to do. Stopping is not an option.
To you who may have stumbled upon this entry and may feel the way I'm feeling, I suggest you don't keep it in. I tried it. Didn't work. Call somebody up. If you're too iffy about talking to shrinks, then talk to people you trust the most. If you don't have one of those, then leave me a message here. I may be a complete stranger, but somebody is always better than nobody.
The feeling goes away and comes back every now and then, but certain events in my life brought it back to the fore.
I can't eat, sleep, or function at work. I keep crying at random times and places, when hearing songs or listening to silence. I have bad dreams whenever I manage to doze off. I can't write my thesis (which is due in a month, by the way).
And so I decided, with much hesitation and second-guessing, to seek help. I'm now going through counseling.
I actually wanted to keep mum about the whole thing until it's over. But since this blog is read by approximately 0 people, I don't think posting about it will matter that much to others. To me, who has always written about anything and everything, it does, however.
A part of me hopes that people directly involved in my depression will reach out to me and make me feel better. But alas, I think it will remain wishful thinking. I will carry on, though, because there is nothing left to do. Stopping is not an option.
To you who may have stumbled upon this entry and may feel the way I'm feeling, I suggest you don't keep it in. I tried it. Didn't work. Call somebody up. If you're too iffy about talking to shrinks, then talk to people you trust the most. If you don't have one of those, then leave me a message here. I may be a complete stranger, but somebody is always better than nobody.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
The Man
Most of the time, I am an asexual plant. But in those rare periods where my hormones come alive at the right moment where a breathing, human male finds himself inexplicably attracted to me (and me to him, although this has not always been the case), I get into a romantic relationship. This has happened only a handful of times in my life, and yet it has happened often enough for me to finally figure out what I would like in a life partner.
When I was younger, I wanted to marry a prince (as expected). I was so obsessed with Prince William that when I found out that he was going out with Kate Middleton, I raged for days and felt like my future, the future I deserved, was cruelly ripped from me. Obviously, I was exaggerating. That and now that he is practically bald, I have realized that I never really loved him and was just in it for the free haute couture.
As I got older (and more realistic), I thought I would be wiser in my decisions regarding finding that someone. But with age comes desperation, and desperation leads to nothing but shit. I'm not 40, but like any other female in their late twenties, you look around and see your high school friends getting impregnated, and you panic and ask why nobody wants to fertilize your eggs. So instead of being more careful and decisive, you go at men like social climbers go at Nine West shoes on sale. You go at them hard and unthinking; you just grab the nearest one and sprint to the counter. Nevermind that they're missing a strap, or a heel, or they're not even in your size. Nevermind; what's important is that you have one.
Then you go home. And you look-- really look-- at what you just spent time, money, energy, and emotion on. And then you just feel like killing yourself.
I think you get the metaphor.
Coming from the most heart-wrenching breakup I've ever experienced, I have just begun to realize what kind of choices I made, what kind of things I prioritized, what kind of things I overlooked. I was so intent on this relationship being THE ONE that I ignored everything else that made sense and just hung on for dear life. I did not want to admit it then, but I know now that I stayed in that relationship because a part of me honestly believed that it was my last chance. And it's not. It's not. It will only be my last chance if I let it, if I close all my doors and sulk in one corner for the rest of my life. That man, no matter how happy he made me, was not the one, simply because he was not. Simply because I declare him not to be the one.
Yes, I have recently discovered the power of one's own will. You may laugh at that, but harnessing one's will is something that people often neglect to do. You often find those who seem so helpless with their lives, whose decisions are not made by them but by their parents or spouses or friends, whose actions are dictated by other people's advice. Well, I won't be one of them. Especially when it comes to choosing the person I will spend the rest of my life with. So here, Universe, I am sending this list out to you for you to know that this is what I want. And this is what I'll get.
The Man: The Anatomy of My Life Partner
1. He is older or my age.
2. He has a stable job.
3. He owns/is planning to own/has the resources to own a car (this may seem shallow but owning a car, and paying for it every month without fail, is a sign that a person knows how to commit to something. That and he knows how to manage his money.)
4. He can live alone ("can" because he may currently live with his parents not out of a lack of choices, but because of a sense of duty).
5. He knows what's happening in the world and is always ready to talk about it.
6. He reads books and likes it.
7. He has the financial freedom to take adventures with me, whenever we feel like it.
8. He is attractive to me.
9. He is attracted to me and is not afraid to show it.
10. He has the balls to go after what he wants.
11. He does not make promises; he acts on them.
12. He takes responsibility for his actions, his words, and his decisions.
13. He is unashamed to meet/talk to my parents.
14. He knows when to take care of me and when to let me do things by myself.
15. He respects me, in every sense of the word.
In making this list, I never wanted to use the phrase "dream man" because I made this list awake, sober, and fully conscious. And these criteria are, I believe, things that you need from someone if you are going to build a life with them. And the most important thing about this list is that I meet all 15 items in it. It is truly unfair to expect things from your significant other that you yourself cannot give. Hence, whatever I put in this list is also what I have, am, and do.
This is a long shot, I know, but it's all a matter of visualization. If you always think that you're going to end up alone with 30 cats, then you will, mainly because your actions will lean towards that outcome. And although I would really love to have 30 cats, I'd rather have someone to take care of them with me.
When I was younger, I wanted to marry a prince (as expected). I was so obsessed with Prince William that when I found out that he was going out with Kate Middleton, I raged for days and felt like my future, the future I deserved, was cruelly ripped from me. Obviously, I was exaggerating. That and now that he is practically bald, I have realized that I never really loved him and was just in it for the free haute couture.
As I got older (and more realistic), I thought I would be wiser in my decisions regarding finding that someone. But with age comes desperation, and desperation leads to nothing but shit. I'm not 40, but like any other female in their late twenties, you look around and see your high school friends getting impregnated, and you panic and ask why nobody wants to fertilize your eggs. So instead of being more careful and decisive, you go at men like social climbers go at Nine West shoes on sale. You go at them hard and unthinking; you just grab the nearest one and sprint to the counter. Nevermind that they're missing a strap, or a heel, or they're not even in your size. Nevermind; what's important is that you have one.
Then you go home. And you look-- really look-- at what you just spent time, money, energy, and emotion on. And then you just feel like killing yourself.
I think you get the metaphor.
Coming from the most heart-wrenching breakup I've ever experienced, I have just begun to realize what kind of choices I made, what kind of things I prioritized, what kind of things I overlooked. I was so intent on this relationship being THE ONE that I ignored everything else that made sense and just hung on for dear life. I did not want to admit it then, but I know now that I stayed in that relationship because a part of me honestly believed that it was my last chance. And it's not. It's not. It will only be my last chance if I let it, if I close all my doors and sulk in one corner for the rest of my life. That man, no matter how happy he made me, was not the one, simply because he was not. Simply because I declare him not to be the one.
Yes, I have recently discovered the power of one's own will. You may laugh at that, but harnessing one's will is something that people often neglect to do. You often find those who seem so helpless with their lives, whose decisions are not made by them but by their parents or spouses or friends, whose actions are dictated by other people's advice. Well, I won't be one of them. Especially when it comes to choosing the person I will spend the rest of my life with. So here, Universe, I am sending this list out to you for you to know that this is what I want. And this is what I'll get.
The Man: The Anatomy of My Life Partner
1. He is older or my age.
2. He has a stable job.
3. He owns/is planning to own/has the resources to own a car (this may seem shallow but owning a car, and paying for it every month without fail, is a sign that a person knows how to commit to something. That and he knows how to manage his money.)
4. He can live alone ("can" because he may currently live with his parents not out of a lack of choices, but because of a sense of duty).
5. He knows what's happening in the world and is always ready to talk about it.
6. He reads books and likes it.
7. He has the financial freedom to take adventures with me, whenever we feel like it.
8. He is attractive to me.
9. He is attracted to me and is not afraid to show it.
10. He has the balls to go after what he wants.
11. He does not make promises; he acts on them.
12. He takes responsibility for his actions, his words, and his decisions.
13. He is unashamed to meet/talk to my parents.
14. He knows when to take care of me and when to let me do things by myself.
15. He respects me, in every sense of the word.
In making this list, I never wanted to use the phrase "dream man" because I made this list awake, sober, and fully conscious. And these criteria are, I believe, things that you need from someone if you are going to build a life with them. And the most important thing about this list is that I meet all 15 items in it. It is truly unfair to expect things from your significant other that you yourself cannot give. Hence, whatever I put in this list is also what I have, am, and do.
This is a long shot, I know, but it's all a matter of visualization. If you always think that you're going to end up alone with 30 cats, then you will, mainly because your actions will lean towards that outcome. And although I would really love to have 30 cats, I'd rather have someone to take care of them with me.
Friday, July 5, 2013
Bucket List (Things I'd Like to Do Before I Die and/or Before You Kill Me)
1. Visit all UP campuses
2. Watch an Up Dharma Down gig live
3. Go somewhere far, alone
4. Come up to a stranger I'm attracted to and tell him/her that I find him/her attractive
5. Design (and pay for) my dream bedroom
6. Read Pride and Prejudice in one day
7. Go on a candlelit dinner date
8. Buy my parents new wedding rings
9. Save 100k
10. Find a man who will love all of me.
2. Watch an Up Dharma Down gig live
3. Go somewhere far, alone
4. Come up to a stranger I'm attracted to and tell him/her that I find him/her attractive
5. Design (and pay for) my dream bedroom
6. Read Pride and Prejudice in one day
7. Go on a candlelit dinner date
8. Buy my parents new wedding rings
9. Save 100k
10. Find a man who will love all of me.
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Not Gay and Not Exactly Loving It
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Saturday, September 8, 2012
On Why I Should Write an Autobiography (And Why I Shouldn't)
Reading a good book always made me want to write a good book. I know that dream is right up there with winning an Oscar for Best Actress, but it somehow seems more feasible than, let's say, growing three more inches. In the beginning, I dreamed of writing really deep, philosophical works of art. Like Love in the Time of Cholera. Or The Bell Jar. You know, things that teenagers would probably hate, college students would probably salivate on, and pseudo-intellectuals would probably pretend to have read. But upon further research and introspection, I've come to realize that the market is already chock-full of narcolepsy-inducing (yet highly award-winning) literary material, so maybe I should just stick to what I can accomplish in the next 50 years or so. Something I honestly know about, care about, and can talk about for an indefinite amount of time. And obviously that something is myself.
You might be thinking, "You're not even famous, why would you write an autobiography?" And there lies the brilliance of it, ladies and gentlemen. I will be the first non-famous person to ever have the audacity to write about my life and actually expect people to read it (much more pay for it). This makes me officially worse than Snooki from Jersey Shore. She has an MTV show, what do I have to show for myself? Well, I joined a kiddie pageant when I was three, if that counts.
But that's not the point.
The point is the market is already saturated with the same stories. Stories about falling in love, falling out of love, falling in love after getting pregnant, falling in love with a vampire, falling, falling in love with being in love, murder, murdering while falling in love, murdering while falling in love with a vampire; they're all the same. I'm pretty sure someone (read: my mother) would appreciate a fresh story about, well, me.
Contrary to popular belief, my life is actually pretty interesting. I teach at a well-respected University in the Philippines, and yet I have managed to moonlight as a prostitute to sponsor five homeless kids' elementary education (If you're reading this and you're my superior from the well-respected University, the part about moonlighting as a prostitute is a joke. Unfortunately, sponsoring five homeless kids' elementary education is, too). Seriously speaking, my life experiences may not have involved snorting cocaine with Kurt Cobain or having midnight trysts with our Barangay Captain in exchange for 24/7 security, but I can say that it can actually fill a 300-page book and it is very, very possible for you to read without inducing yourself into a coma.
My friend who works at an e-publishing house has cajoled me into submitting a 25,000-word novel, saying that I have the writing ability to make something interesting. I told her, "If I had that writing ability, I wouldn't still be using my Dad's credit card to buy me some Starbucks" (read: I actually did not say that; I just wanted to put in something wittier than "Okay sure, I'll try"). Obviously, I didn't take her seriously. But after listening to Tina Fey's Bossypants, I'm just like "Fuck it. I'm doing it, bitches."
So here goes. I know that it is highly likely that I will never, ever end up with a book publishers would willingly spend their money on, but how will I know if I don't try?
You might be thinking, "You're not even famous, why would you write an autobiography?" And there lies the brilliance of it, ladies and gentlemen. I will be the first non-famous person to ever have the audacity to write about my life and actually expect people to read it (much more pay for it). This makes me officially worse than Snooki from Jersey Shore. She has an MTV show, what do I have to show for myself? Well, I joined a kiddie pageant when I was three, if that counts.
But that's not the point.
The point is the market is already saturated with the same stories. Stories about falling in love, falling out of love, falling in love after getting pregnant, falling in love with a vampire, falling, falling in love with being in love, murder, murdering while falling in love, murdering while falling in love with a vampire; they're all the same. I'm pretty sure someone (read: my mother) would appreciate a fresh story about, well, me.
Contrary to popular belief, my life is actually pretty interesting. I teach at a well-respected University in the Philippines, and yet I have managed to moonlight as a prostitute to sponsor five homeless kids' elementary education (If you're reading this and you're my superior from the well-respected University, the part about moonlighting as a prostitute is a joke. Unfortunately, sponsoring five homeless kids' elementary education is, too). Seriously speaking, my life experiences may not have involved snorting cocaine with Kurt Cobain or having midnight trysts with our Barangay Captain in exchange for 24/7 security, but I can say that it can actually fill a 300-page book and it is very, very possible for you to read without inducing yourself into a coma.
My friend who works at an e-publishing house has cajoled me into submitting a 25,000-word novel, saying that I have the writing ability to make something interesting. I told her, "If I had that writing ability, I wouldn't still be using my Dad's credit card to buy me some Starbucks" (read: I actually did not say that; I just wanted to put in something wittier than "Okay sure, I'll try"). Obviously, I didn't take her seriously. But after listening to Tina Fey's Bossypants, I'm just like "Fuck it. I'm doing it, bitches."
So here goes. I know that it is highly likely that I will never, ever end up with a book publishers would willingly spend their money on, but how will I know if I don't try?
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