Understanding Physics

He was a free spirit. I caged him, that is why he broke free.
It was when I had no one when he came. He lent me a shoulder to cry on. Tried to cheer me up. But it was my choice to mope. I brought myself to sulk and be bitter with the break up I had. He knew what I was going through and he knew that in time I could choose to go and leave him behind or stay and share moments with him. He told me that happiness is a decision and until now I haven't decided yet. But I am in the process of accepting that someone I loved chose another. And to move on with my life would be the best thing to do.
He was my confidant. He would listen to me intently and let me realize things. I learned much from him. Long time ago I was just a blogger to him, who he thought was an extrovert. But i wasn't. I was more of an introvert. I saw "gayness" in a different light when he came to my life . I would usually fear it when people would discover that I am gay but now I am comfortable with the idea. That is who I am.
He decided for his freedom from the clutches of me -- a rebound guy. I felt bad after he told me that he needs time away from me. But I understood why he had to do it. It was for me also. So I can heal on my own.
If it was the right time, if my heart was whole again.
I would have had moments with him.
But it ended.

Goals

Short Term:
School:
- jewelry plate for ma'am rita, orthographic (due: aug:29)
- (done) Plate for sir mel, advertisment for self
- (done)Download exam questions for ma'am tan-sy
- Plan visual board/story board for ma'am tan-sy
- collect magazines for the visual board

Himig Sanghaya
- think of other projects
- plan stuff for the new HQ
- do agenda for saturdays meeting with the officers
- organize the officers of Himig Sanghaya Choral
- research about putting up a Foundation
- Reorganize IPAP-VA curriculum

Self:
- (done) get a hair cut
- (done) shave!
- arrange a song
- paint something
- (done) send resume to Sir Manny
- find a raket

Long term:
- join competitions (shell, Nikon)
- graduate CFA-ID (Due: Apr 2008)
- graduate BFA-ID (Due: Apr 2009)
- find a job that can support my studies and expenses (Summer 2007)
- move out of the house (ASAHP)
- work in an advertising or design firm
- put up my own design firm

Of Being Alone and Dying

While I walked to the Jeepney stop last night I remembered the times that someone would actually insist on taking me home even if I could manage to go home by myself and it would be a hassle for him to actually do it. Last night was quite different. I went home alone. No hand to hold. No shoulder to lean on. No one to talk to while I rode the jeep to visayas ave.
Last night I realized that I would want to be alone for a while. Think about other things than romantic relationships because these make me remember things. And with these things the depression attacks me again. It's a silent killer. Everyday whenever I would not be doing anything it attacks me from behind. Stabbing me as many times as it can. I feel I'm already dead...
Death is what has become of my life.

My City

I Belong in Paris

You enjoy all that life has to offer, and you can appreciate the fine tastes and sites of Paris. You're the perfect person to wander the streets of Paris aimlessly, enjoying architecture and a crepe.

What European City Do You Belong In?

If You Forget Me

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

Pablo Neruda

E.E. Cummings

it may not always be so; and i say it may not always be so;and i say
that if your lips,which i have loved,should touch
another's,and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart,as mine in time not far away;
if on another's face your sweet hair lay
in such a silence as i know,or such
great writhing words as,uttering overmuch,
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;

if this should be,i say if this should be-
you of my heart,send me a little word;
that i may go unto him,and take his hands,
saying,Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face,and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands.

Insomnia

I remember, I used to sleep before 11 pm and wake up 10 hours after when I was younger. I was an over sleeper.
Now? I sleep after midnight with colds and cough keeping me company. My chaotic world zeros in at me everytime I try to sleep.
And when I finally get the chance to get to sleep. Dreams try to haunt me with confusion and uncomfort.
Last night's dream was of zombies and a nightmare lady that, when you get caught in her string of fear, sucks all the happiness in you (if I still have some left). I woke up this morning afraid to go back to sleep (reminds me of Freddy Krueger of Nightmare on Elm St.).
Tonight will be probably much the same, still keeping me company is my ever faithful C and C, and adding to the caravan is a bunch of problems I have, both life and love.
Here's a toast to sleepless nights!

Till My Resurrection

I've been checking his email and hoping that i would see a message from the guy I loathe. But there weren't any.
It was impossible that they won't exchange messages.
The last time I asked him he told me that he likes the guy so much. That was a blow to my face - a painful one.

He wasn't sure about me though.
I remember whenever I would ask him he would say, "I don't know.."

The uncertainty killed me.I have been dying since.I can't deal with this anymore.I'm off to the lost lands to hear a lone bird singing a sad lullaby.

Something You are sure of

I chatted with you today...
Wanted to say things like what i did or how i am.
I am not ok.
I'm still hurting but i'm trying to move on with my life.
It's really difficult.
I never felt this coming
.I thought we were fine.
I guess I just was blinded by all the love I have for you.
I asked you how he was... and more questions...and then you said it..

Me: because i felt that we were so in love
Me: that nothing was wrong
you: and we were..
Me: but i guess i was wrong again
you: and we could still be...
you: i dont know..
you: at this point i dont know anymore...
Me: i can't deal with uncertainties
you: what i know is that i also love him already..

I started to get numb after reading that.
I died.
and died again and again..

Several deaths...

Soleil

Fefe always said,"Regrets are a waste of time.
They're the past crippling youin the present."
- Under the Tuscan Sun

Under the Bed

[1] When I was younger I used to hide under the bed in the master’s bedroom and made it as a refuge from the shouts of my mom for lunch. I disliked vegetables, which my mom cooks ever so often. Under the bed was my perfect world. A world of strawberry cream rivers and fruit jelly rain; chocolate tree tops and candy flowers. It was the best place a kid could ever want. Unlike other beds mine had no monsters that chew on blankets and eat unsuspecting kids underneath it.
[2] I felt different growing up; it was not an easy childhood. The kids in the neighborhood would tease me and call me names, sometimes my younger brother would defend me from their name-calling but I was never relieved from the anxiety that it brought me. At that time I did not know why my playmates made fun of me – their reason behind every taunt and laughter. I would usually ignore them. Until one kid started cursing me: “Bakla! Bakla! Ang mga katulad mo ‘di bagay mabuhay sa mundo!” He felt my fist on his face after he said that.
[3] I feared the word (bakla) everytime I would hear it. My mom was one of those who instilled that fear in me. I was in my second grade when my mom accompanied me to school because it was our school’s foundation day. The students of every level were required to dance on the school grounds under the heat of the scorching sun for our field demo. “Oh! Joanna, Hope!” (A song I barely remember. The only words I can hear echoing in my memory is, “Hope, Joanna, hope, Joanna,” repeatedly sung by a guy who seem to chant the lines, not sing them, “Caribbeanishly”) was the title of the song were to groove on to. I felt really uncomfortable with our costume. We seemed to have crossed over from the Caribbean to the rock covered grounds of our school. The boys and girls wore white cotton pants and skirt, respectively, and the same top: red-blue-yellow ruffled sleeves and the white cotton, where the colorful sleeves were connected, was to be tied (think summer of 80s). The only difference was the girls had undershirts and we had none. Before the synchronized shaking of the colorful ruffled sleeves, my mom saw me hiding my nipples by pulling the knot on the shirt tighter. Her eyes widened and discreetly said, “Ano ba… Ayusin mo nga ‘yang galaw mo. Para ka niyang bakla e Ano ba ang kailangan mo itago.” Truth was, as a chubby child I never was comfortable showing off my big boy-boobs and belly to the public. I came to fear the fact that I was gay and I tried to stop myself from being one. The bed became my refuge from my mom’s constant nagging. I stayed there for years.
[4] Every school year I would have different girl crushes and I would let one of my classmates know so he or she would tell my other classmates and start a teasing frenzy between me and that girl. When I was in my first year in high school I had a “crush” on a new student. She never liked me. I told one of my close friends that I had a crush on her and eventually she learned about it. She got awkward with the idea. She did not talk to me for months and that triggered my “romantic” tendencies: I gave her a certificate of apology I made myself; and letters – I wrote sorry letters to her even though I knew that I should not be apologizing. It lasted for a year. She eventually got fed up and confronted me – dumped me in other words. Then came second year and she got together with one of the mediocre boys in school and because of that I got really disappointed so I gave her a card to express my wasted feeling for her. I had a few attempts after that, I even tried to court a close friend of mine but some other guy won over me. I tried to be “normal” but I failed. Under my bed was where my guy crushes were.
[5] I knew that I was gay and that I would want to be with a guy but I was in denial because of the possible disappointment of the people around me (especially my mom). But it was not easy hiding under the bed. I discovered the chat room when I was in college. It was my secret world besides under the bed. I was 17 when I first dated a guy I met from the chat room. He was 25 and was working in a telecommunications company. I acted as if I was straight and he was quite effeminate. I did not like him but I did not know how to dump people all I could do is ignore them or hide from them. We went out 3 times and went to different restaurants every time. He paid the bills through his credit card. I would call him at night; I wanted to hear stories from a man who I know had had lots of exposure with the gay culture. He ended up falling for me. I ignored him after realizing that he wanted to have a relationship with me. I was not ready. I got scared and hid under my bed. I hugged my teddy.
[6] I dated a few guys after that and finally I came out to one of my close friends when I was in the College of music. I was now ready to face reality – that I am gay and I did not have any power to change that. It was in our bowling class and I told her that I was dating a guy. She was not shocked but instead she smiled and hugged me. For the first time in my life I felt “accepted”. I felt confident enough to come out to some of my other close friends. I ignored the fact that some of them might find it offensive (considering two of my closest friends are homophobic).
[7] Slowly, I was creeping out of the comforts of the space under the bed. Coincidences don’t happen. I believe that your actions lead to certain events. While I was inside my room reviewing my lessons, my mom came in and out of the blue she asked me, “Are you gay?” I said a resounding no. She knew that I was lying (I was never a good liar and my mom knows it when I lie), so she asked again. I finally said, yes. She was devastated. She ran to the master’s bedroom crying. I followed her and she closed the bedroom door. My mom sat in the bed wiping her tears; I sat on the bed, my back facing her, and asked her why she was crying. She told me that she was disappointed and scared of me growing old with no one by my side to take care of me. I did not try to defend my side I just sat there crying. More discouraging words came out of her but I forgot most of them or I deliberately erased them from my memory. I was hurt that night. I found comfort under the bed once more.
[8] Soon after, my dad who would usually be working overseas knew about ”me”; he did not try to hit me or violently shove my head into a drum filled with water. Instead, he was silent about it but once on a while he’ll throw sarcastic remarks whenever he would see some gay character on television. “Ano ba ‘yan, puro ka-baklaan! Ilipat mo nga ang tv…” he once remarked when we were both watching a gag show, even though I was unlike the stereotype gay-parlorista you see on television. I chose to stay as masculine as I can be. In my friends’ and family’s eyes I never changed but their views about my gender did. I was now subjugated to too much skepticism like every gay man in the Philippines. Much of it I blame on the macho culture embedded in the system of every Filipino. My dad had it. He never confronted me about my gender. My family tried to shrug it off. I crept out from under the bed.
[9] Out of the comforts under the bed: I was dumped for another; depressed; moved on; infatuated; stumbled and fell face first to the ground; stood up. I loved again – He made me feel more passionate with my art. I can firmly set foot on the ground because he would always be there to hold my hand. Together we watched stars fall and made magic with cardboard boxes. Now, I could say that I would never grow old alone.
[10] “In every heart there is a room
A sanctuary safe and strong
To heal the wounds from lovers’ past
Until a new one comes along…”
- “And so it goes” composed and sung by Billy Joel

Torture

Woke up tired because of my unending battle with misery. Last night it tried to suffocate me in my sleep but I struggled to stay alive. I woke up in the middle of the night, heart racing, head aching, and hyperventilating. I sat down on my bed and cried. My room was really dark and I barely saw the photographs and graphic designs I posted in my room's walls. I lied down and shivered, feeling the coldness of my room. I fell asleep crying.

Hairwars: The Revenge of the Frizz

My dear sister
She can be a pop-diva with this hair but she needs lots of training for that.

A.K.A. "Art Man"

For most of the summer I was Teacher Allen and Art Man for the kids in Truevalue Rockwell...
Tomorrow is the first day of classes for the first semester and I am so excited to go to school already (it's like when you anticipate Christmas morn -- thinking of the gifts from Santa), I know this semester will be a fun one. But I miss the kids.
There's Baron (5yo). He loves to draw dinosaurs and ask much questions in class. Most of the time he runs around with his classmates around the workshop area while waiting for his mom to fetch him.
Gian (5yo), in our last day of workshop he cried because Baron told him that the heart that he drew in his notebook was ugly. I had to carry him in my arms and talk to him while he was wiping his tears off from his eyes.

Cris (7yo), who always waits for his mom to fetch him. Most of the time he would hug me when i sit beside him. And there was this one time that he tried to take a bite of my fore arm because he was so hungry from waiting for his mom.

Erin (4yo), who has a fraternal twin brother, didn't move in the first activity she did. Her mom told me that this was her way of shutting everything out whenever she would be shy or insecure. But eventually after much baby talk she drew something.

And there's Nico (4yo) who loves cars. We played with his toy cars during the last day. I also taught him a secret handshake. And he would smile everytime I lose from the thumb wrestling.

I have 48 students all in all and if I'd enumerate my experiences with them it would take so much space here. Maybe in my next few posts, you'll see glimpses of the kids' antics.

Kids at Art - Truevalue, Rockwell

Baron, 5

Roxanne, 5 and Cris, 7

Gian, 5

Sean, 4

Nico, 4

Mandy, 6

Art Teacher!!

I grew younger

You Are 8 Years Old

Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.

What Age Do You Act?

Return to Sender

My dad just left today.
He was off to a cargo ship to be a boatswain for 10 months or so, as it always was for years now. I never knew what he does there, though I researched what a boatswain is and here's the definition: 1 : a petty officer on a merchant ship having charge of hull maintenance and related work 2 : a naval warrant officer in charge of the hull and all related equipment.
I honestly am not in good terms with him.
We had a fight just recently, about a monthe ago, about certain issues that were never resolved. Being the hard-headed-ego-centric son that I am and him the macho-introvert-silent-dad that he is (not considering that we have anger management issues too), we never talked nor confronted our problem. Since (what? forever) I realized that I need something more that financial support, I tried to go for juvenile delinquency than being mature about our issues.
I would be branded as selfish (or maybe I am just a psychotic brat), and I know that sometimes (or most of the times) I am. I think I have certain ideas of empowering myself but never to the disadvantege of others, for me that's more of self centeredness than selfishness.
My dad and I never understood what our relationship came to be.

But if i had the chance (or he would read and understand all that's written here) I would want to say:

Pa,
I'm sorry that I couln't be the son you want me to be, I know this is such a cliche but we both live in that premise, I seldom see you as my dad. You don't know why I'm like this and I don't know what you think of me as: your son or just someone who needs support(close to being a patient in a mental institution or someone in a orphanage).
Less the pride, I think our relationship would be better.
I'm sorry pa.
I should have been better than this. I could be but I chose not to be.
I still have to throw all these excess emotional baggages in me.
I still have to change for our own good.
It's me.
I shall be the one to sacrifice.
It's my turn.

Josel

Blue

You're blue — the most soothing shade of the spectrum. The color of a clear summer sky or a deep, reflective ocean, blue has traditionally symbolized trust, solitude, and loyalty. Most likely a thoughtful person who values spending some time on your own, you'd rather connect deeply with a few people than have a bunch of slight acquaintances. Luckily, making close friends isn't that hard, since people are naturally attracted to you — they're soothed by your calming presence. Cool and collected, you rarely overreact. Instead, you think things through before coming to a decision. That level-headed, thoughtful approach to life is patently blue — and patently you!

http://web.tickle.com/color/index.jsp

Monday Mornings

As I try to write something today, I hear the "distant" guitar strumming of the person I fondly call "dad". I am 23 and still in school. People my age, most of them, are working already; Successful office workers; employees. And here I am still in school. Very much dependent on my parents' money, though sometimes some commission will come my way and that's where I earn my own. Every morning I usually hear a different "wake up call": My mom telling me the importance of time, money and how I waste them because of mot attending my classes (just the other day she insisted on waking me up and I told her that I have no morning class and she did not listen, she continued her "morning sermon") , my "dad" playing the guitar (the only tune he's mastered: Anak by Freddie Aguilar), my used to be phone now just serving as an alarm clock, and the morning sun that scorches my skin (about two months ago I never experineced this because there was a mango tree in our backyard, my dad cut it off).
It's nine in the morning. I have to go and take a shower.
"Dad" is still playing his out-of-tune rendition of Hotel California.
These are the times I wished I never went to the College of Music and developed my "ear".

Holiday Cheers

What matters to an artist is not experience, but inward experience
- Cesare Pavese

I tried to get out of bed Monday morning but neither my heavy head nor semi-paralyzed limbs allowed me to. Instead, the warmth of the sun that beamed through the window beside my bed forced me to get up and slowly walk to the bathroom.
As I was eating breakfast I could feel my calf muscles ache. It felt like I was still standing singing Filipino Christmas Carols to mall goers – songs like, “O, Magsaya” (the Filipino translation of “Joy to the World”).
It was Saturday when we went to this mall in Alabang, not to shop for Christmas gifts but, together with our suit bags, place ourselves to designated stations in the mall where we would be singing. We dressed up in our priced barong and the ladies in their balintawak, walked to one of the stations, formed two lines and sang with bright faces to passersby. With every song there would be a few people listening and some would simply ignore our singing.
We would sing the same repertoire in each station and in each station I would see people smiling and singing along. Less the sore feet, it was fun seeing the eyes of the people around you brighten as they heard our harmonious voices.
For collectively almost 5 hours (we had breaks in between stations), for two days we sang in the mall and I experienced the physical exhaustion only that Monday morning. And yet I never regretted going to the mall and singing for the people. Until now I can still feel that unexplainable joy I felt; it was greater than the joy I felt when I first learned to whistle a tune.
After breakfast I rode a bus to Quezon City. I would be going to a condominium unit to paint a mural of Peter Pan and Tinkerbell for two kids’ age 5 and 7. I would be again filled with happiness knowing that when the painting would be done they too will smile and the cycle would go on and on.