What's your story?

My morning thoughts

Everyday I wake up, with the urge to slip back into dreamland. But reality awaits, beckoning me to take my character in the worldwide play of life. I sit up, and glance around my surroundings. Light was streaming down from the windows, illuminating the room. I notice that as usual I am the last one in bed, a result of sleeping late. As I take my first few steps of my day, I search for the familiar faces of my blood-kin, and I kiss them with affection, thankful that they too were blessed with life.

I slowly make my way to the kitchen, eager to fill my starved stomach with blessings that came from the people who made it happen. Having had my fill, I walk upstairs and open my laptop. I pick up my phone as my computer welcomes me with that familiar Windows music. As I scroll through the messages from my ever reliable cell phone, I smile when I read morning messages from him. I hug myself, thinking how lucky I am with everything that I have.

Sometimes I just pause with everything I do, and I think. I find myself daydreaming, staring off to space. I think about life, that no matter how bad or good my day will go, I am still ultimately blessed. That He gives me all that I need, though I may not always get what I want. As Morgan Freeman said, “But since when does anyone have a clue about what they want?”

How about you? Do you stop and think about the things in your life? Do you think about how lucky you are? Even just reading this essay is lucky. Having a computer, having an internet, even waking up in the morning. The next time you feel like you’re nothing, stop and reflect. If you’re nothing, would God have woken you up today? If you’re nothing, why would He give you the gift of reasoning? Desiderata says: You are a child of the universe. You have the right to be here.

When you feel unloved and alone, count your blessings. As the song goes, you’d fall asleep before you finish counting. 🙂

Piggie vs the wolf

Obesity has really reached its limit, and has blown up everywhere. But we all know we’re not talking about body fat here. The Priority Development Assistance Fund (PDAF), otherwise known as “Pork Barrel” which was supposedly for the projects for the benefit of the taxpayers, has drastically blown up from the pockets of politicians. And the aftermath is disastrous. I don’t need to elaborate on how PDAF was started, or what has happened that caused so much alarm because you have the liberty of reading it in the newspapers and other websites.

I am writing however, to those who have the ability to make a change but are too lazy to do so. I am writing to those who act enraged, and yet they quiver at the thought of doing something. To my fellow Filipinos, today, August 26, is a day that we have allocated to show how much we are insulted by the acts of the people we voted for. Your voice is as important as any others. I say to you, stand up. These people whom we trusted to lead our country have pocketed so much that it has blown up in their faces. They have given us the choice to hate them for taking something that wasn’t for their benefit. For years they have blinded us, for years they have been telling lies. And now that we finally have the hard evidence that would suffice our thirst for justice, let us act on it.

My fellow Filipinos, young and old, we are the wolf. We are stronger than them. They are the worthless pigs who greedily take what they can get from those who they thought could not think for themselves. Let us prove them wrong. Today, the victims become the predator, moving to catch the prey. We shall huff and puff until they blow away. In this story, we shall get a just ending. We will drive this piggies into the hell hole where they deserve to be. They need to know that we are not okay with what they have done, that we are not helpless.

Make a stand! Take your part in the million march to dispose of something that was abused by those pigs! Make them feel the rage! Scrap pork barrel!

For those who could not make it to the rally, make your waves through social media. Make this you profile picture for today.

Reading hangover

‘She clutched the knife and drove it right into her lover’s chest. Her lips quivered as his blood slowly stained his shirt, and he screamed from his sleep, feeling the cold blade. His eyes grew wide as he gripped the knife, before passing out. Taking her gloves off, she went out of the hotel room shaking. I did it! Miranda thought. And now for my husband. She grinned mischievously, feeling up the gun that she kept in her purse.’

I close the book, my nerves rocketing through sky limit. She killed her lover! Now she’s going to kill her husband. The cafe seemed to quiet down around me. I look around, and I notice people staring at me. Did I just talk to myself? An old man just looked at me. I talked to myself again! I shut my mouth and walk out of the cafe. The warm weather envelopes me, and I make my way home. I burrow my brows together, my thoughts still hanging by the thought that the protagonist killed the man who made her happy. What kind of twisted world was I living in? I pause for a moment, and I laugh at myself. It’s not my world. It’s a book.

“Something funny?”

I look up and see him, in all his handsome glory. And he was smirking! The nerve! I walk past him, a tint of blush on my cheeks.

“Hey I was just kidding.”

I feel him run up to walk beside me, and I walk a bit faster. I hold my book to my chest, and I flag my hand to stop a jeepney. I get into the front, so that he won’t sit beside me. I sigh, exhaling the breath that I was holding. I open my book again, and in an instant I am lost in the sea of words.

‘After getting in a cab, she prayed silently that her husband would be home. The cab ride home was excruciatingly tiresome, and her heart was beating so loudly she hoped the driver would not hear. She tossed her red hair to the side, stepping out of the cab. Her hands were still shaking because of the adrenaline, but nervously tried to compose herself as she walked up towards the apartment. Just as she was about to open the door-‘

“Hey!”

I look in annoyance to my book thief, who grinned like a wolf. He was sitting behind me, holding my book by its cover. Rage seeped through me as he stuck out his tongue out at me. He began reading my book, his brows furrowed as he read the page I was reading. Jerk. The jeepney was near my drop off now, and I was thinking of ways to get the book back. I paid the driver, glared at the thief and got off. Predictably, he got off too and he walked towards me, closing my book. He didn’t even use the bookmark! Now I have to search the book for where I left. I huff, and I try to reach for my book. He held it up over his head, and I curse under my breath.

“Give me the book Dennis.” I look at him in the eye, trying to muster the angriest look I could. I only received a howl of laughter from him.

“You’re so cute when you’re angry!” He says between his laughter.

I turn around so he wouldn’t see me blush, and I walk towards my house. I hear him call my name, but I pretend not to hear him. I feel his hand on my shoulder, but I just shrug it off. I walk faster, and soon enough I was running towards my house. I try to slam the door, but his damn foot got in the way.

“Hey Clarisse, don’t get mad. I was just curious what the book was about.”

I smack the door to his face, and soon enough I hear an “omf”. I smile with satisfaction, and I walk into my house. I hear him close my door, and I open the TV. He sits beside me, nudging me with his elbow. He slowly slid the book to my lap, and he remains silent. He’s smart after all. I immediately open my book, eager to know what was about to happen next. It took me a few minutes to find where I stopped, no thanks to Mr. jerk-a-lot.

‘Just as she was about to open the door, she hears a woman. And not just any woman. It was her sister. She stuck her ear on the door, and her heart breaking in two after hearing her sister moan her husband’s name. Filled with rage, she opened the door and her eyes confirmed her suspicions. Her husband was in an intimate position with her sister, whose eyes practically bulged out when she saw her.’

My heart hammered right out my chest, as I read on. But unfortunately for me, the jerk started to sing to the theme song of Phinneas and Ferb as it played on TV. I sigh, and reached for the remote to mute the sound.

“Hey! No fair!”

He tried to get the remote from me, but I lose immediately when he reached for my book. I reluctantly give it to him, and soon he was blaring the episode. Why did he have to be my neighbor? Why can’t my neighbor be someone who is actually nice to me? But lo and behold, I get a bully. I sigh, and return to my book. I shake my head at him, and he sticks his tongue out again. I open my book, and soon my anger melts. Soon I get lost between the confrontation of wife and husband, my mind drifting into a world woven by a writer so brilliant. And soon, I get drunk again with words from a simple book.

Life and Writing for dummies

After writing for about seven years, I’m still a dummy. So I research day in and day out about things that could help me improve. So one day I found this list by Jack Kerouac, entitled “Belief and Technique for Modern Prose: List of Essentials.” It was dated in the 1950’s, and most of the things that were listed were really timeless. And so I was inspired to
make my own list, but with a twist. I wrote 30 things I’ve come to realize in my life and with writing too. My list consists of things I’ve gathered through my whole life from mentors, books, and from being observant. And now may I present, Life and Writing for dummies. 🙂

Write your life with a pen, not with a pencil. Learn from mistakes, don’t try to erase them.
Make lists.
Never fear rejection.
When all else fails, drink a cup of coffee. And pick up your pen again.
Inspiration can come from the simplest things. Even from a simple text message.
Find the magnificent beauty in silence.
Never settle for simple. Life’s too complicated to give you simple.
Write. And write again. Keep writing till your heart runs out of ink.
Don’t just write what you’ve experienced. Reach for the unknown, grasp a shooting star, ride that magic carpet and venture into a new world.
Enjoy the little things.
Do something foolish. Learn to ride a bike with no hands. Eat street food. Fall in love.
Love yourself. Even that little mole on your toe.
When you write, write for one person. If you want to make everyone happy then be a clown.
Be comfortable with who you are. Awkwardness is not a cute trait.
Never give something in half. You’d only get half in return.
Give compliments and mean it. You’d never know how much it would mean to the receiver.
Keep a diary. if it’s too much, at least bring a notepad to write the best or worst moments.
Try to be nice. The reason why bad people exist is because it’s easier. Being nice is a challenge. Take it.
Don’t try to change the world. Because how you see it may not be the same with other people.
Fall in love. It doesn’t have to be romantic love. You can love music, art and other non human things. Just find something that makes your heart melt or skip a beat.
Write. Rewrite. Print it. And read it. Then rewrite again if necessary Mistakes can’t easily be detected with first glance, so read your work over and over until you’re contented.
Try something new everyday. Eat something you’ve never tried. Learn a new instrument. Read a new book.
Bring a small notepad and a pen with you EVERYWHERE. The most brilliant ideas don’t always come when you’re at home safe and sound.
Read the Desiderata.
Write everyday. Write a thousand words. Or maybe just five hundred words. If all else fails, at least a hundred words. If you still can’t do it, write gibberish.
Free write. It’s psychologically proven that if you free write before an exam or a hectic day, it makes your mind sharper and makes you feel lighter.
Fall in love. Fall out of love. Fall in love again. Just make sure you do it the most poetic way you can.
Pray. No matter what religion you’re in, pray.
Free yourself once in awhile. Dance to a random music. Sing loudly (even when you’re out of tune).
Never forget all those who helped you when you were down. They’ll help keep your feet on the ground when you’re on top of the world.

Sweet dreams

As another million thoughts rush into my head,

I groan and sigh,

and let my frustrations out onto my bed.

I wait impatiently for sleep to embrace me,

but unfortunately,

I just never seemed to be that lucky.

My phone beeps and I reach out for it,

I see your name,

my heart decides to skip a beat.

We text back and forth for what seemed like an hour,

you seemed to calm me,

the thoughts in my head beginning to cower.

You wanted to call so I said yes,

When I heard your voice,

I thought of one little request.

Soon you spoke of aliens and princesses and happy endings,

I smile to the phone,

wondering how I earned such a blessing.

My eyes later on began to weigh a ton,

and I fell asleep,

just in time for the story to be done.

“Sweet dreams” I heard you say,

I did just that,

my mind more than happy to obey

How to read :)

I’m just going to get right to it: My generation hates reading.

We’ve become more of a “visual” generation, who has the attention span of a goldfish (9 seconds) who needs “music”, “colors” and other “moving” things to keep us entertained. I say it’s pretty pathetic. We are all hanging by the wire, clinging to an electricity charge that flows through our wires. And while we fry our brain while playing video
games, burying ourselves in social networking, sticking our eyes to the television, while the works of Shakespeare, Dan Brown, Paulo Coelho, and all the other brilliant writers are stuck in a bookshelf waiting to be read. So to those teens who are willing to give up their game consoles and other gadgets for even just an hour of reading, here’s how to read:

Pick a good book. Pick a book that perks your interest. Books have different genres, like:

It could be about anything you’d like to be, just as long as you’re interested in it. Remember, no one else is going to read it for you, so it better be something you really like.

Find a place to read. The best thing about books is that you can read anywhere. You don’t need to be near an electric outlet. You can read outside by a tree and enjoy the breeze that’s not from an electric fan or air conditioner. Again, it all depends on you where you’d like to read. Just make sure you’re comfortable. As long as you don’t read inside a moving vehicle because it would just damage your eyes-not good.

Reading position. This is kind of the hard part-finding the perfect reading position. Although it is advisable to read with your book in front of you, you can’t help but feel stiff after a few minutes. Just make sure you won’t get sore in whatever position you chose.

Read. Now this is the main part. When you read, don’t just read the words. Don’t just flick your eyes from one corner of the page to the other. When you read, read with your imagination. If the book shows you a scene where rain is pouring, imagine that it’s really raining around you. Watch the scene unravel right before your eyes. When there is a conversation between the characters, imagine you’re listening to it. Use any actors voice when reading their conversation. Just make it real to you. It may seem tiring, but I promise you that when you get used to it, it’s a breeze. You can imagine yourself as the main character, or as the enemy, or as the love interest. That’s the best thing about your imagination-you can go as wild as you can. If you can, read with your heart. Cry when a character dies, get mad at the enemy, laugh when something funny happens-bring your emotions with the ride.

Use a bookmark/make a marking where you stopped. To make sure you don’t get lost when you put the book down, mark it with something so that you could easily open to where you stopped. That way you won’t have to bother yourself with looking for the page where you stopped.

Finish it. Always finish what you started. You’d leave yourself hanging if you don’t finish the book. The endings are always the best part, that’s why they say “save the best for last”. You’d know whether the couple you’ve been rooting for ended up together, or if the murderer got caught, or you could be left with an open ended ending, making you wonder what could have happened.

Learn from it. The best thing about the book it that no matter how random a book may be, there would always be a lesson from it. So instead of doing the mistake yourself, learn from the book. You can learn that you have to stack up for a zombie apocalypse, that you should not go down the stairs when there’s a murderer in the house, that you should not take anything for granted, and others more.

So the next time you’re about to drone yourself into a marathon of facing your beloved gadget, try to pick up a book once in a while. Stimulate your brain into doing something that could enhance it, rather than deteriorating it. Books are there at your disposal, and your imagination will always be at bay if you don’t read something. Reading is fun believe it or not. It just takes some perspective.

Happy reading!

Don’t break a writer’s heart

Never break the heart of a writer, because it’s just a recipe for disaster. -imperfect princess

Don’t break a writer’s heart, because she’ll remember every little detail about you.

Don’t break a writer’s heart, because she’ll write about you. She’ll write about your weird personality. She’d write about how you snore at night and how it fills the dark room with a monstrous sound escaping your lips. She’d write about every moment you made her cry, like that day when you forgot to call her even when you knew she was sick. She’d write about the times you flirted with other girls in front of her, how you made her feel like there was a competition for your attention.

She’d even write about how oily your face was, and how her lips would feel slippery after she kisses your cheek. She’d write about the times you hands felt clammy, and how she would just wipe her hands on her pants after you held hands. She’d write about your bathroom voice, the way the earth seemed to shake when you sang that high note of “I will always love you”. Writers love to exaggerate, they just go over the top.
She’d tell about the times she cried when you’d cancel your date, only to find out you went to the bar with your friends when you stupidly post pictures on Facebook. She’ll exploit every flaw and every failure, her heart slowly mending with every word while you become a fictional monster character in her poems and stories.

Don’t break a writer’s heart, because she can make you fall in love with her again. She’ll write stories about how you met. She’ll write about how it felt on your first date, the way you opened the car door for her. She’ll write about the way you made a move to kiss her cheek, but she moved her face at the same time and both of you ended up sharing your first kiss. She’d write about the crazy things you did for her, like doing a harana in front of their house. She’d write about how your voice made the dogs howl, but it made her smile never the less.

She’d even write about the time both of you were sitting down and watching the sun set, your arms around her shoulder. She’d write in detail how she perfectly fit on your shoulder, and the way you’d sniff her hair in a funny way. She’d say the things she wanted to say to you, like she never had any other crush since she fell for you. She’d send butterflies into your stomach, remembering each moment. She’ll pour out every amazing moment, and while your heart breaks in two, her heart strengthens and hopes for a better tomorrow. You’ll be a knight in shining armor, the one who saves her at the end of a grueling day.

Don’t break a writer’s heart, cause it will be both heaven and hell.

Don’t break a writer’s heart, because goodbye might be the last thing you’d ever tell.

Don’t break a writer’s heart, because she’d make you eat your words.

Don’t break a writer’s heart, because doing that would just be absurd.

Don’t break a writer’s heart, because soon you’d just be another character in her stories.

Don’t break a writer’s heart, because she can easily heal before you could say sorry.

Trust me, I know. I’m a writer after all. 🙂

How I know we’re best friends..

You know how I know we’re best friends? Because I remember the day we met each other(again). June 2009. That day when we found out we were classmates, and you just transferred back to the school. We went to our rooms together, getting lost a bit. I remember that when we reached our room they were done saying prayers, and we stealthily went in.

I know we’re best friends because you’re honest, brutally telling me things that normal friends won’t say. You tease me about the things I’ve done wrong in the past, yet you say it in a way that makes me laugh. You always tell me what I’m doing wrong, making me learn about things along the way. You knock some sense into me when I get too tangled up in my daydreams.

I know we’re best friends because you support me all the way and I do the same. Somehow you know what I could do, and you support me through it all. And I know you could conquer the world if you wanted to, and you’ve got be behind you all the way.

I know we’re best friends because you’re “trending” in my high school diaries. Seriously. Since second year til we graduated, you’re in there. You’ve read most of it, and you’ve even written remarks on it. Reading it all over again today makes me want to laugh, and I’m glad I shared those memories with you.

I know we’re best friends because in most of my “novels” in high school, you were the best friend character. You’re always the one my character runs to when in need of advice. Just like in real life.

I know we’re best friends because we take everything from each other without permission. And I mean everything. From pens, to gadgets and the most dangerous crime of all, food.

I know we’re best friends because most of my best memories in high school was spent with you. All the laughs and tears you saw, some were even because of you.

I know we’re best friends because even though we aren’t affectionate towards each other, we’re still close as close can be.

I know we’re best friends because we both know that no matter what happens we can depend on each other, even when we’re miles apart.

I know we’re best friends because every time you come home, it’s like you never left.

So on your 18th birthday I’d just like to say,
that I’ll be here for you all the way.
That though we may not see each other as much as we want,
we can still count on each other for a rant.

So Ms. Sharmaine Bungabong,
Our story is better than any other song.
I love you to the moon and back,
You’re my best friend,
and that’s a fact.

Someone asked me about you

Someone asked me about you a few days ago. They asked me who was the girl that made me grin like a lunatic. It made me stop and think how to tell them about you. I looked up the sky in hope to find inspiration.

I could have said “She looks like Aphrodite.”

But then that wouldn’t do you justice. So I searched again for the right words, trying to think about you. I thought about your hair, the way it curled at the end. I thought about your lips, how they perfectly melted into mine. I thought about your eyes. Damn your eyes. They would entrance me every time I saw it, and I never wanted to look away.

My friends looked at me expectantly, waiting for an answer. I searched for words again. They laughed at me and told me I was whipped, and I never denied it. The breeze coming from the trees stirred my hair, as we walked back to our office. Then after awhile, I turned to them and said:

“Have you ever been to the beach?”

They all nodded looking curiously at me, and I continued:

“Well she’s like that. Close. When you’re around her you feel a certain breeze float through. You feel relaxed, and the deeper you dig into the sand, the more happier and carefree you would feel. You feel like you could just run all the way to the other side of an island.

Like water she reflects. She can reflect someone’s happiness as if it were her own. At night when everything’s dark, she glows. Every indent a person makes in the sand she takes and she keeps it in her memory. Every wave gentle and she washes up treasures from her own self.

She can make you listen to everything she says, just like how you’d want to listen to the sounds of the ocean. Sure she sometimes turns into storms and wreaks havoc, but she does everything she could to make it up to you. You know what I mean?”

I looked at the three of them, each had a different expression. After awhile they smiled at me, and patted my back. We each went in the building’s elevator, and we pressed our different floors.

“We hope to meet her soon okay man?” One of them said when he reached his floor.

After a while I was alone as the elevator continued to make my stomach drop. As I heard a familiar ding I walked out and proceeded to walk towards my cubicle. My neighbor smiled at me, her gaze kind. I then sit down on my computer and log in. I smile as I see you face, smiling brightly into the camera. You were showing off your engagement ring, a blush on your cheeks. My eyes then look further below the picture, with the text:

My beloved angel,
1988-2010

Red String of Fate

“An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet,

regardless of time, place, or circumstance.

The thread may stretch or tangle,

but it will never break.”

– an ancient Chinese belief

Beautiful isn’t it? The way we could imagine that somewhere out there, we are meant for someone. Contrary to what people may usually think, being destined to be with someone doesn’t automatically mean romantically. And this old Chinese belief proves that. It simply means that someone out there is meant to be your friend, to be your companion. It means that no matter the distance or the things you do, you will meet at a certain time when fate decides it. It’s nice to think that everything you do has a reason. That the people you meet, the things that have happened to you whether good or bad, the experiences you went through is part of some thought of plan. It makes you think of the butterfly effect. That one thing you do could affect so many things. A smile could make someone’s day, or a spiteful conversation could send someone into a depression. Come to think of it, we really are connected to each other for some reason. This makes you think about what you do. It makes you feel conscious about what you say or do to people because one mistake could ruin someone’s life.

Going over to the romantic side of this belief (as I am a hopeless romantic), this belief is the Chinese version of “soul mates”. Nowadays, people rarely do believe in it. Especially with all the overuse of the word “love” in the wrong way. The problem with us humans is that we settle on what is given and we make the abnormal things normal. For example the fact that more and more marriages fail- people nowadays think its a norm. No one ever looks outside the box and sees two people who were afraid to try harder. Another example is that most people settle for what is there. Call me a sappy romantic, but why do you settle for sparks when you can have fireworks? Why settle for someone you can live with rather than a person you can’t live without? These two problems can be solved by one thing: take a chance. Despite what movies and books tell you, no one really dares to take a chance unless life threatens you to.

That’s the main problem of humanity. Everyone is afraid of being rejected, of being humiliated of being seen as an outcast. Well you know what? I’ve lived my whole life taking chances. I take things as they go, following my gut the whole way. I’ve been bruised too many times and I’ve got the scars to show it. But no matter what, you’ve just got to keep going. Like Dory said in Finding Nemo, you’ve got to keep swimming. The world is vast ocean. And if the Chinese knew their beliefs, no matter how far you go, the person you’re bound to be with will turn up sooner or later.

Do you know the cute little story behind the “Red String of Fate”? There was a kid who saw an old man. The old man said that there was a red string that connected people who were meant to be. The kid, as naive as he was, said that he was never getting married. The old man brought the kid to a small village and pointed towards a girl whom the kid was destined to be with. The boy threw a rock at the poor girl and ran away. A few years later, the boy was going to get into an arranged marriage. The night before the marriage, he asked to see the woman’s face. He saw that she was beautiful, but she was hiding something. She then revealed that she had a scar on her face because a rock hit her face when she was a kid.

Fate can be a real troublemaker It can make or break a person. But like a parent, it knows your best interests. Sooner or later you’d see your life unfold, and piece by piece you’d see that everything happened for a reason. Not everything may be explained now, but someday it will be. Till then learn to take a chance. You’ll never know where you’d find yourself. 🙂