Archives

In Vain..

The month of May has just started and we were anticipating more of the sun’s fury, as likewise informed by our ever reliable PAGASA (?). Come May 1, a local holiday here in the Philippines, it was announced that we were to experience the hottest temperature to date, since January. And it was absolutely parching when me and my friends went outside to buy a can of Coke. We ran, no, we dashed to get to the nearest drugstore as we were literally roasting the minute we stepped out of the building. The can of coke was icy cold, and it was a a huge relief. I rolled the can over my head, my cheeks and my neck, feeling its coolness drench my sweat glands for a second. And then we dashed back in to the office, like we were running for our lives. Then the next thing we knew, the sun was no longer there and fell humongous droplets of rain from the then-black grey sky. It seemed angry, and it gave us a terrible downpour. Everything was blacker than anything else since then…

My boyfriend has not texted nor called me since last night. I’ve tried calling him probably thirty times in a row but his line was out of coverage. I was already anxious ‘coz he wasn’t also online. I thought he might have been charging his phone. It was raining really hard and lightnings were visible through my curtained windows. Power outage was also an option so I tried to calm down. I knew he was just at home and there was nothing to be worried about. I gushed myself for a bit on my favorite tv drama, let half an hour pass. I reached again for my phone and dialed, praying while waiting on the other line to just let it ring, just one ring and I could breathe. It rang, one, twice, thrice, and he cut it. That’s the usual move. He would cut my calls and call me back. However, he didnt. So I dialed again, another ring was heard and was cut again. Still, no return calls. I thought he might be having a hard time connecting, like before. Especially with the bad weather. I waited, yet again and  there was none. Just me, staring at my phone, waiting for a message that could have said “I couldn’t reach you”. That would have been better, at least. But there was nothing. I sent four or five messages, I said I miss him. We were supposed to go out today, but because of the awful weather, I wasn’t permitted to go. There was also flood on the streets already. It hurt me that I wouldn’t be seeing him for another week. And now this. The only communication we have when we’re not together, and it’s giving me a headache. He knew how I feel when I get worried. I cry, I cry really hard and bad thoughts creep up into my head. And then I’d cry harder, and he’s still not texting me. I haven’t even slept right the whole night due to power failure and I was thinking what was happening to him. I have no idea what was and is going on. And I am still waiting. I’ll probably be waiting all day..

 

John and Anne ~

My boyfriend said he was reading my blog, this blog, last night and for the Nth time, told me he loved reading my posts, like he was being taken back in time. When our love story was young and sweet :p

Thinking back, I couldn’t imagine that in the next 5 months, we would already be celebrating our 2nd year anniversary. It never felt nor it occurred to me, that we have been together for a while now. Because everytime I see him, my heart flutters in a childish, frenzy beat that I have felt during our first few dates. The funny, goosebumpy thrills never ceased. The streaming of joyful tears will run about endlessly, at the mere thought of his face, his warm embraces and gentle kisses that I could almost feel, everyday, every night. And I am certain that it is here to stay.

pedring

3 weeks ago, super typhoon pedring washed off our house. my home of nearly 25 years is now in ruins and still underneath about a foot-thick mud. our roof was a shredded piece of wood and steel on the floor, where our cream-colored vynil used to be. the 2 tv sets lay submerged on our ocean-house floor. on top of the tv sets sat our fridge. surrounded by broken glasses and twisted metals. our steel-screen door was nowhere. it must have been torn off the hedge, washed away by the tides and into the sea. it could have been found somewhere by the junkyard. clothes and shoes were all afloat. shoes can no longer be called a pair.
power’s off for almost month now. fusebox still dripping. there’s only still blackness against a now-sunny morning. our once home is no longer inhabitable. i hoped to have salvaged even my book collection. but there was nothing left except 4 walls..

what the eyes don’t see, the heart doesn’t grieve for

REAL STEEL

my boyfriend and I watched REAL STEEL last Sunday and as expected, our money’s worth the movie. REAL STEEL is unlike any ordinary robot movie. though it didnt have gigantic alien robots nor spaceships nor megan fox, it certainly brought my robots- fan-girl self back. *transformers took it away* ..it is definitely a must watch. i’ve felt surges of all kinds of emotions: thrill, anger, fear, fun, sadness, triumph, nostalgia. i was on my feet the entire time, swinging my fists in the air, trying to hit an invisible Zeus! i highly recommend REAL STEEL. for kids, families, boxing fans alike!

what the eyes don’t see, the heart doesn’t grieve for

Blue Eyes

I have always wondered how I would look like If I had blue eyes

I thought there would be strange feelings while wearing those stranger’s eyes on mine. I wondered how it would feel If I cried with those eyes..would I feel like an ultimately different person? Would I look like a doll just as other girls would have when they wear blue contacts? Would it do any better for my cosplays? I have no idea..

Going Back to Grey

He came here ahead of me. It wasn’t him then, it was a girl: a girl so pretty and prim. For a week she didn’t last. Her blamelessness was lost. In her place came a man. Silent. Reserved. Suave. I took no notice since I was very much preoccupied by some other, whom I thought was far better. Indeed, I thought. How thoughts could go wrong! They were never certain anyway.

He was doing errands for everybody, slaving for them but me. He was aloof, or so I assumed. It took one little moment for me to need his presence. It didn’t hurt then. His glance caught mine, without the clichéd spark that every girl was dreaming to witness. That idea never came in for so many times until his voice is gradually penetrating into my comfort zone. What comfort zone?!

My daily routine was grey, and I needed some colors. I was used to the dead air I was living with for a month or so. That was my comfort zone. When I had no idea what was going on with the world out there. His voice was poignant and sharp and it could pierce. My comfort zone wasn’t spared. His eyes smiled and it smiled at me. My lips shuddered at the eagerness to respond back. I eventually trusted my ambiguous notions. After all, it was somehow good to have somebody to talk to. I was more bored than the dead and it was never prevalent to have me bored rigid of anything else in the world.

I found a friend in him and he instantly became the pages that I could smoothly write my whimpers onto, as I had things to tell but didn’t have the courage to. He was my diary, my breathing and bleeding diary. I could write and write and write some more and he would still crave further, which I undeniably fell in love with. I loved his enthusiasm to learn everything about me, like he cared. He said he cared. One word I despised. One word abused by every man who was caught in the shackles and is no longer free. How can one care? Apparently a lie I thought I should’ve forgiven, and yet, have not forgotten. As coward as my not telling those things meant to be unveiled.

I wanted badly to touch him, kiss him, and tell him how he had been the lingering dream I tried hard to eradicate every night. If he only knew how it kills me to see him, and her, whole together, while I’m slowly breaking apart. Sinful as you may call it, he once said he was mine. And I would have been his if I wanted to. That was stupid, of course I wanted to. We wanted to. But we could not. We should not. Somebody owns him and I was damned, years late.

Somehow I was able to live behind the deceptions of it all. While I was caught in my reveries of the him-and-I, creating funny noises on my mind exchanging words meant to exist within the spheres of my illusions. I chose to believe my own fantasies and learned to indeed believe them in due time. I was beginning to find bliss in it, and when I was ultimately blown away, he said goodbye.

He was going back to her. I heard him say farewell. But it didn’t sink in. he was walking away now. I was watching his every step, getting farther and farther away from where we used to be. But I’m still here, here where we used to be. I’m staring at his chair, the chair where he used to be. I know he’s never going to be back here, where we used to be. I think I’m seeing all the colors draining from the mainstream. And now, just about now, I’m beginning to go back again to grey.

—found this draft here, I can’t remember anymore who I was pertaining to but I thought I shouldn’t let my pieces die in the backyard so I posted it. No offense meant. :p

~johanne~

One melodious strum on his guitar

sang arduously in to my heart

and with the murderous faint of his voice,

my world seemed all in motion.

All else was a  squabble of noise

blending into the charcoaled air

His songs were etched of glasses,

cutting through thick mists of red rain.

I see his music swirling about my head,

ransacking another serenade’s stead;

endowing life to the ones that were dead

and the living all have gone to fled.

His gaze burns the veins under my skin

and bursts of a billion cries within.

every strand of my hair yearns for him

like my life siphoning out of my dream.

That dream where rockers and cosplayers

conquered, stripping me off my dress.

Stepping like a mile closer to his oblivion

They hail me Queen, chasing my Ascension.

Where he would be with the twilight

waiting for my Resurrection. And

we would sing and make love until the

breaking dawn kisses the dead of night.

Boiling Kettle Water

It was such a different morning.

4:55 am. About a few more minutes and I had to get out of bed and get ready to go to work.

I felt drugged. A couple of weeks ago was just the same as this morning was, and that is so not good.

*tap*

*tap*

“Get up dear, get up now. come on sweetie it’s five now. Get up or you’ll be late”

that’s a familiar ring, resonating back and forth of the walls of my hollow head. I got up, my vision a blur, my ears a buzz, my heart a frustration. I don’t want..to..get..up. I don’t..want..to..go..to..work.

I dragged my foot, then the other, then the other again. Drag, Drag, come on. just a few more steps before the dining table. Oh look at that sweetheart, it’s uhm hmm..fried rice and eggs and hotdog! Oh look there’s another surprise, it’s..it’s..uhmm..smell it. It’s coffee. My stomach churned.

*whistle* (long and eerie)

“Oh dear, the water’s ready. a little faster sweetheart”

I munched, I chewed, I neebled like a kitten.

I went back to my room and opened the cabinet wide wide wide. hmm, black and red? violet? blue or green? Ah, i know..what do I feel today? Alright, there’s my black pants and Black top. oh and look, my red flats and red bag. oh good, there’s my undergarments. my towel was waiting there for me, lying like a stupid old piece of..well..towel.

I went to the bathroom. oh wait I forgot the damned kettle. Too bad. I was too bummed to go back but heck, here it goes. i’m holding it nicely. It was so hot. It was burning my fingertips. Oh look, the bucket’s filled with nice cold water. Get the pail out the stupid bucket and pour out the stupid kettle water damn it.

*pours*

*ouch!* *ouch!*

oooh..it buuurns! I watched in subtle horror as I slid beside the bucket, all mushy and slippery, watched the kettle slip from my clumsy fingers and the boiling water seemingly in a very very sluggish motion pouring out of its mouth. Water and more water flowing nicely over my arid skin. It was nice. it felt nice to feel horrified.

Am i dreaming? asked the foolish little voice. of course not idiot.

I watched and enjoyed, boiling water out the kettle splashing freely over my arms. How could I not immerse myself with this beauty? it feels exactly the way i do. lookie, lookie, it didnt want to join the baby rapids inside the bucket. As much as i didn’t want to go with the rapids as well. my own rapids. I was trying to sail against the current. and boy, was that really effin jerky? (of course)

I just realized, maybe, just maybe, had I not tried to pray for this, will i still be here?

My Rockstar: Dear John

There’s a man that makes me happy and sad.

Happy to have him near me, loving me and taking care of me. Sad, like the saddest love song that relentlessly playing through my head, useless even if I would try to stop the music from spinning about my consciousness. We would part all the time, and all those times that I could see him go away, he’s taking a part of me with him. and I need to see him back so I could be whole again.

Whenever I see John, my blood curls to the top of my head and my hands would feel stiff and numb. And I soften up when he starts to smile at me. I feel made of wax, I could melt any minute.

“Hey love” he would say, and he keeps me in trance like Edward Cullen dazzles Bella Swan. My heart pounds out of my chest, bursting with intense thrill at the sight of him. I want to grab him and kiss him, kiss him more like time does not exist and the world owns nobody else but him and I. Thousands and millions of throbbing electricity rapidly flux unto my head to the tips of my toes.

I feel weightless and sore. And the hurt is piercing me. Needles raining on the surface of my skin, each prick sleeps and dies when his hand begins to travel about my arms and he gently hugs me. I could stay that way forever.

I could see him caressing me and kissing me in my dreams. Until my eyes pry open and this god like rockstar is still in front of me. He’s not a dream. He’s real and I could feel him. I could feel his face, his lips against my fingertips. His hands, that’s too cool and hot when I hold them back. He’s real. I could feel his body and the heat that ignites. he’s real, way too real. Even better than a sweet dream. His lips sweeter even than a love song.

He is my love song and he is a lot of words. Words that’s easy to comprehend, nonetheless, the hardest melody to sing and to memorize. But it wouldn’t be good to memorize as I want to keep him to me unread, unopened and unsung. And I will forever sing him the way I know how.

I am writing, and all I have in my head is his face, the sound of his voice, the bolts of his scream. And thinking about him makes me shiver. Makes me weak. Makes me dead. The sound of his voice brings me to life. Brings me home. Takes me to the wind, cradles me to the wide vermilion skies by the grace of the clouds. and when I fall back to earth, I would know for sure, he will catch me and hug me and kiss me and love me again.

Dear John…

I love you

A New Beginning

After I have broken up with my boyfriend of a year and 3 months, which I have posted in here last month..all emo and nuts..I’m coming back here, all smiles now, saying out loud to the world that once more, I have allowed myself to fall in love.

It was swift, like a spur of the moment thing. But I couldn’t care much anymore. I hadn’t told my closest friends yet of it, a little conscious of what they would think of me but certainly I will, just not now.

I was scared, a little cautious and reluctant. At the height of my desolation after my downfall, I had this little ridiculous idea in my head: online dating! It wasn’t new. I’ve joined in with a few thirty-ish thousands of prospects and hopefuls, some might just be mere perverts looking for casual sex. It was just that! Like a pool of fishes anticipating a bait, or a fisherman determined to catch the fish. whichever applies. :p

I thought:  ”should I really get down to this?”

and on second thought..”It’d be fun!”

and on third thought..”I just signed up as Luna-Song”

and I didnt write that down for you to view my profile…:p

My first three days online was incredulous. I had my inbox swelled up to 12 pages of private messages from guys wanting to chat with me, adding me up on my facebook account. I accommodated some, ignored some others who didn’t measure up to my requirements.  It was thrilling, I should say. I was getting back my confidence that..I’m still pretty and wanted. haha

I’ve met up with some of the guys nearby, became frustrated, taunted, whatever dismal feeling it could give. It was not that nice, but definitely an experience.

One night, I got this particular PM from a fellow Filipino guy who introduced himself in pure Filipino..which I didn’t entertain at first. The profile photo showed up 2 guys, making me wonder which is which. At any rate, I responded to him just to be friendly. He added me up on my YM account and chatted for the first time. And it was a first time to remember…

I had fun talking to him. The first thing I noticed was he spoke in good English. Grammar, check.  Slang, check. Tenses, check.

I was pretty keen with that one, maybe a superficial basis but it’s a fundamental requirement for me.

Hmm. Nice. Potential..friend.

Now, to find out how he looked like, I added him up on FB. I was astounded. Unpredictable. What I got was this really long haired guy that you couldn’t see his face anymore, shirtless, holding a guitar. You’re own doze of common wasted rocker, who’s fuckin wasted as hell..to quote from one of his photo comments.

I held back. Was I to go out with this guy? He looked way different from the other guys I’ve met before. Or basically, he never looked the least bit like the guys I wanted to meet up at all. Friends, yes. We can be like that, just that. I had a band too, and my guy band mates never tend to look like that. Weird.

We continued to talk, about anything sensible and stupid. We would last for hours and talk nonstop. We exchanged cellphone numbers after that. We texted the entire morning and I’ll be rushing home from the office to log online and we’ll chat..like we haven’t talked all day.

I haven’t had the chance to scrutinize myself but I already formulated a few questions that had been going inside my head for quite a while now. What the hell is going on? What am I doing? or rather, Why am I feeling that way?

I knew I had to give in to the idea that I already liked this guy, whom I have fondly learned to call my “panda”.

Little did I know..we were saying “I miss you” and worst, “I love you” and we haven’t even met each other. In my dreams, I wanted to hug him tight and kiss him.

We met personally last Saturday and watched Eclipse. Though I’ve already watched the movie prior to this. I should have known, I wouldn’t have been able to watch it the second time, as my attention was completely diverted to him.

I fell in love with the wasted guy.

And he fell in love with the cosplayer.

Details..will follow. I’m loving him for now

~Ja Ne! ❤