wanderingcommuter

is entering an unknown space and temporal quadrant, where all his writing juices freeze and his capability to write is suspended.

but he is struggling... striving to write something.

i guess theres a number of probable factors.

first, aside from his present academic loads, he is pressured to finish a visual novel for his last semester's class, where his former professor gave him an incomplete and compelled him to finish it in a year or else he'll fail. as of the moment, he hasn't absolutely done anything yet and even thinking of changing the entire story concept.

second, its been 10 months since he has been unemployed. the entire full time student thing is fun but whenever he thinks of his dues, it definitely stresses him out, especially his credit card bills and his rent. nonetheless, he still has his pride of not asking for any support from his parents.

third, the temptation of going and working abroad is slowly starting to open up, especially
whenever he see how his friends seem to be very "successful" in there pictures in facebook. seriously, he is on the verge of hopelessness on the thought of being hired again.

fourth, this will be as simple as, no inspiration as of the moment though he is not entertaining anything or anyone either.

and lastly, life starting to be in complete monotony again. probably that is basically it.

thinking its just not his year. does anyone knows if ox is compatible with tigers? cause for this lad its starting to spell danger.

sorry, just him ranting! its like what X, in the movie boy culture kinda said, a typical problem of a 24 guy who thinks as if he is already 40.

well, don't you miss it too? LOL

the night I keep on remembering

source

blinding midnight beam

broken, tainted window pane

flowing frozen sore

peeking of rose vines below

hiding shaft of brilliance

over dense dew of shadows

dripping fluid of each others body

tang of bitter-sweet melancholy

touch of juicy lips

digs deeper grave of abyss

decades of harsh strokes

heals no numbing wounds nor sores

yet, taps our broken souls

treasures of collected sins

and remained hidden pleasures

then, expect an arrangement that is not meant

for another tomorrow

open letter: why is love not enough?

sometimes, even the stars in a clear moonless night is not enough to cradle you to sleep. neither a kiss nor a hug would assure you of tomorrow. for even the most genuine romance falls short to spell out certainty.

dramatic as it may sound, but reality will tell us that love is not enough to sustain a relationship.

i think, its like a secret recipe. its not a matter of how common or rare the ingredients are. what utensils you use. nor how much passion you claim you've put on it. not even those who lasted that long could claim that they were victorious. for its always a continuous process--- a battle if i may say so.

for me, its a matter of having and putting the right ingredients in the right utensils with the right passion and in the right place and time.

and defining the word "right" is where all the challenge actually begins.

so in the end, its really about taking wise risks and making the best out of the series of its possible outcomes. instead of surrendering from that dark, hope-forgotten and self-inflicted sadness you've made.

love, the world is full of drama right now and it doesn't need another one just yet.

so cheer up. for life will still move on, with or without you tagging along.

promises(?)

"never hold on to a promise," that was the last thing J said before the night completely took J away, again.

i grew up surrounded with people making all sorts of promises. and in a way, i've been fascinated with how it ensures certain uncertainties. how it pulls out hope and relief from indescribable distress. and how it pushes all means to make impossibles possible.

but i guess, not all promises are made to last nor done for the simple reason of humanity.

we hammer promises with our imperfections, we break them into pieces because of our shortcomings. but at the end, its our own guilt that eats us.

when J let go of my hand that night, i realized another promise has been broken. for a while, i doubted if it was J's imperfections or mine. if it was my shortcomings or Js.

but even before an answer is made, i just saw myself slowly folding: 'til my knees sympathized with my chest and the chilly night breeze wiped my face dry. it was a vulnerabling feeling i must say. too bad J didn't see it. but i thought, what for?

i guess, promise is the most treacherous thing man has ever invented.

when rousseau wrote his theory in social contract, he should have also warned about its possible outcomes to us, individually. the frustration, trust issues and all that. at least, it could have prepared us for its coming.

you see, for most of us, when a promise is made, we, as the person who receives it immediately build a certain extent of expectations that sometimes, or most of the time over boards to the actual promise itself. thus, when our expectations are not met we end up being frustrated.

but what if no promise was actually made? what if it was only beliefs drawn out from a built relationship? are promises and beliefs just the same?

when i "agreed" to have that affair with j, all the love stories and movies i have met started coming back to me. being my first, it was the most wonderful feeling for me that time. but i never expected it could be that tragic later on.

i know, i should have not expected. i should have not dreamed of those dreams. i should have put my hopes into its proper places.

but i guess, it was not that bad at all. instead of feeling miserable, i hold on to that experience and live with it. some people understood, while some just simply can't. nonetheless, i still took another step forward.

so now, after your messenger box popped up on my screen, asking me how i am and if we could still meet? i figured, i guess i could still take some chances (of friendship) but never will i hold on to any of your promises.

BUSted

recently, i am fond of riding buses.

i love how it slows down time. how it tells so much about life in and outside of it, about people that ride and pass by. and of course, about me sitting alone in my cold seat.

how an old, fragile and petite woman, probably in his late 40s, can be so freakingly frightening as she argues with the bus conductor over a peso or two during the entire trip. how men nowadays, redefine chivalry by just remaining seated right beside a lady standing. while whispering the words "women empowerment" over and over again. how even i could also be surprised realizing that i've hold on to my bus tickets 'til i dropped on my destination. probably the longest thing i have kept so far.

then suddenly the bus stopped.

a guy in his early 20s climbed inside the bus and struggled his way along the moving aisle. despite the sunlight behind him, you could still see how the movement of his eyes struggled in making a decision of what to take. typical, but not on situations like this.

then he saw this other fellow, sitting in front of me, and their gaze met. as if they were trying to recall where they have seen or if they know each other. but no one actually gestured or said a word.

the guy took the empty seat across the other fellow and still exchanging glances. for a moment, the guy would look away. while the other would try pretending he was looking at something or someone else. then again, their eyes would meet.

suddenly, the guy pulled out his mobile phone. now, this is something familiar. then the other would pull out his too. now, its only a matter of minutes before something will be confirmed.

public pick ups/hook ups are the things that always amazes me. how can someone make that huge and indefinite risk without the fear of its possible consequences? where do they pull out that courage? how can they be so sure? or is there a manual for this that i have missed?

i always wanted to try it. but never really have the guts to do it; not even the motives. its just plain curiosity with some excitement embellished on it, i admit.

then the guy shouted "para po!" as we were fast approaching techno hub. when he stood up, he made a last glimpse to the other fellow, who i've heard earlier would be dropping off in city hall. i swear i saw an exchange of brief smiles.

later on, the guy will receive a message, asking for his name and age.

the other fellow would reply back with, "who is this?" although he was already expecting it.

"the guy in the bus." it briefly reads.

"hey whats up. im adrian, 24. you?"

"cool. james, 23. do you have a place?"

"of course i do." (but isn't he going to ask what does the other party do, or some brief profiles, or if he has some serial killer tendencies?)

"can i drop by your place later?"

like the bus, the ride of the conversation was too fast that made everyone confused of where to call for a halt. scared of either missing their destination or dropping off way too far.

"no, i dont think so. but it was nice knowing you."

then the guy sent a couple of messages more. but "I" no longer made any response to any of it anymore.

call it curiosity, boredom or just plain power tripping. but there was something in me that moment that made me pull my cellphone too. i turned my bluetooth on and quickly reedit my device name to "0917 (my number)." and if my instincts were correct, it was that fellow in front who bit my bait.

its funny how our resourcefulness, regardless of how petty it is, proves how many of us device ways and send means across to others without any direct communication. as if we are indeed thinking alike. how our repressions blur out our rationality as well as our hesitations and creates a common psyche.

but i guess, in this case, its all a matter of motives and outlook differences. something that i should have not meddled into in the first place. but although i knew it was coming, i still didn't regret it. for i know i will still continue riding buses until i finally reach my own destination.

someone

its hard to fall for someone
who values his freedom more than anything else,
who has no ambitions in life and just lives by the moment,
who tends to give romance and relationship new names,
who breaks away from the traditions,
who can easily justifies his actions and goes away with it,
who easily gets bored with monotony,
who has a weird sense of commitment,
who is tactful in saying what he feels to others
but remains reserve to the things he feels for himself,
who calculates his actions,
who avoids being too emotional,
who rationalizes everything,
who is afraid to face his own issues,
who always keep a happy face,
who always fall short with all his efforts,
who acts like everything is nothing for him,
who is uncomfortable in displaying affection, especially in public,
who values friendship more than his partner,
who always has an excuse for his shortcomings,
who easily gives up,
and at the end,
although regretful,
doesn't feel miserable about it.
on the other hand, i want to think that its actually harder for that someone to have all these burdens than to hear it as rants from someone else.

but i guess, its just either of the two: that that someone is still not ready to commit or its the commitment part that is not ready for him yet.

bitchesa experiment vol.3: si dabo ang tunay na echoserang froggy!

mahirap maging bitchesa ng wala lang. lagi itong may pinaghuhugutan.ika nga ni engel, marx at ni gramsci, dapat laging may dialectics.

tulad mo, hindi din ako mahilig makialam sa buhay ng ibang tao. pero isa sa mga bagay na umuubos ng mitsa ko ay kaCHEAPan, kacheapangagahan, o kachipipayan. alam ko, hindi ako mayaman, pero napapamura talaga ako sa kacheapan!

so dear dabo aka Echoserang Froggy,

as much as i don't want to do this, but i guess kelangan may magsabi sa iyo nito...

for you can never claim that you didn't see this coming, since simula palang gusto mo ng makita ka bilang MASA... ang laging API. bigla kong naalala. si politoad with matching clap clap and "politoad, politoad!" naimagine mo? good! cute noh?!
so ito na ang kontrabidang hinihintay mo. kaya dapat hindi ka mapikon o magalit.

dont worry kasi surprisingly, hindi ako nakastillettos, naka LV, o chanel. nakatsinelas lang ako, binabacon ang SUNJOY na brief at suot ulit ang tshirt na sinuot niya two months ago.

believe me, i tried, i really really tried to understand. and you can even ask my gynecologist about it.

but dear, you just crossed the line of intolerable kacheapan. daig mo pa ang piratang dvd ng WAPAKMAN!

you see, appreciation and friendship are two of the things in this world that you acquire. they are not something you push or beg from others.at lalong lalo na, at the expense of other people ( especially of they're my friends).

kacheapan man na matuturing ang pagpatol sa kacheapan. atleast nalaman natin na my levels din ang kacheapan. and kelangan nating matuwid yun para sa isang ideal kacheapan world. nahilo ka ba sa dami ng salitang kacheapan!

kacheapan, kacheapan, kacheapan... ayan, magsawa ka sa kacheapan!

KACHEAPAN!

hindi ko lang talaga magets, kung bakit ka pa VICTIM... alam mo yun yung pelikula ni judy ann santos na "pa-victim! pavictim! pavictim!"?

minsan, may nagsabi sa akin,walang biktima, kung walang nagpapabiktima, at funny kasi IKAW ang una kong naisip. napicture out ko na nga din kung ano ang itsura mo kapag ginawa kang emblem: right hand on the chest tapos nakatingin sa langit...may liwanag! o di ba? glamour shot ng mga api.walang sinabi ang pag amen ni santino sa kuha mong ito.

anyhow, hindi mo pa din ba nagets? its not about exclusivity, its not you not passing a qualification for friendship because in the first place, walang qualifications sa pagkakaibigan. nagdedeliryo ka lang, nasobrahan marahil sa dose nang pinaghalong pang aapi mo sa sarili at isang kutsarang tinunaw na mothballs.

believe me, madami akong kaibigan, may pangit, may gwapo, may maganda, may mahirap, may mayaman, may streetsmart, may mahina, may manginginom, may bookish, may tamad lang mag aral at maging "pariwara." at lahat sila hindi ko naging kaibigan lang dahil sa facebook o anumang social network. dahil hindi lang sa facebook ang paraan para makipag kaibigan.

sa mundong ito, importante ang space o ispasyo kaya may value ang anonymity lalo na sa mga blogger, lalo na sa mga PLU.

isang indikasyon na mataas ang importansya ng anonymity sa isang blogger ay ang kanyang profile. kapag nakita mong wala siyang picture, iba ang kanyang litrato o hindi siya nagpapakita ng isang parte ng lanyang pagkakakilalan, halimbawa ang kanyang mukha ay dahil gusto niyang maging anonymous. dahil duon nakakapagsulat siya ng mas malaya. nasasabi niya ang kanyang mga gustong sabihin ng hindi nag aalala sa maaring maging bias sa kanya ng ibang tao o ng makakabasa.

at sa oras na may nakakakilala sa kanya kaibigan man o hindi, kakilala man o hindi, in a way, nawawala ang kakayahang iyon. nasesensor na ang mga bagay na gusto niyang sabihin o isulat.

magkaiba naman ang kaso ng facebook, in a way masasabing isa itong online resume ng isang tao. nakapaloob dito ang ilang impormasyon tungkol sa kanya at dahil sa impormasyong yun, minararapat ng marami na ilimita lamang iyon sa mga piling tao, sa mga kaibigan, sa mga kamag anak at sa mga taong kaya niyag pagkatiwalaan. kaya hindi mo masisisi ang isang tao kung hindi ka niya inaccept dahil desisyon niya yun. again, respect begets respect. and the same logic goes kung di ka respectful.

so bago pa man maubusan ng semilya ang kontrabida mo, mag conclusyon na tayo, lagpas na din ito sa primetime at inaantok na ako.

basically, simple lang ang CONCLUSION.

hindi ka api, dahil hindi naman sinasabi ng mga api kung papaano sila inaapi. kusa itong nalalaman at nararamdaman ng kanyang audience. hindi niya sinisigaw sa buong set kung paano siya pinapahirapan ng paulit ulit.
(sinasampal ako! sinasampal ako! binubugbog ako! binubugbog ako1 nag sakit! sakit!---di ba ang weird?)

at lalong hindi siya gumagamit ng iba para magtagumpay.

so hindi ka api, hindi ka din si rubi dahil hindi ka pwedeng maging bida sa eksenang ito--- echusera ka lang! ECHUSERANG FROGGY!

P.S.
tanggapin mo man o hindi, wala na din akong pakialam. at wala din akong pakialam kung hanggang saan ang kakayahan mo. wala akong pakialam kung ikaw ang hahalakhak sa huli. at lalong wala akong pakialam kung magsarado ka ng blog at magsimula ulit ng panibago... kung ako sa iyo, panindigan mo na lang kundi mo kayang tanggapin or make it a lesson learned kung narealize mong mali ang iyong pagtingin.

and yes, may karapatan akong magbitchesa dahil kaibigan ko ang tinalo mo!

(this is so mean girls, i love it!)

yun lang.

now back in aiming world peace!

bye-bella!

mmwwwwaaaaahhhh!

itchy to be a bitchy spider!

metaporn: the casavan

unlike most caravans, welcomed by loud drum beats and excited cheers, they entered the town in the middle of the night almost crawling in silence.

the first pack looked among the far fetch parts of the town and signaled where they will try to build and hide their massive and colorful tents from the eyes of prejudice.
hopefully, the forest can keep a secret. atleast for days or for a week. before they will head back to uncertainty.

"how many rich, powerful and faceless people will haunt me this time? how many of them will i pray not to be part of who i am now?"this is the kind of life, Melissa grew up with and these are the thoughts she always asks to herself whenever serenity succumb her, whenever the wind is at peace and the ground is no longer shaking.

it draws smile on her lips whenever she looks at how trees stand still. how she can closely appreciate a flower or a scene without the fear of missing or not seeing it again. pathetic as it may sound but so far these are the only things she keeps pn looking forward in her life, that keeps her alive.

as a child, the only memories she can remember was waking up drowning underneath dull and moving colors. there were even times she can't help but to scream when she thinks of it. then the mistress will then shake back reality in her.
the mistress, although strict and brutal, trained her for everything she needs to know to become one of the best nymphs of the casavan, which she later on became.

when the fruit was already ripe to be harvested, the mistress handed her over a small red notebook. she was asked to write her life and the experiences of her fellow nymphs in it. as well as to carefully read and study the life scriptures of the nymphs before her. it was living tradition for people like them.
when the festivity of sounds roared in and the curtain was opened, she knew it was time. she knew everyone was dying to see her, how she will come out of that pool. soaked on rich coconut milk. how she will glide, swing and slide among the vines and shrubs of the most exoctic and most beautiful flowers known to man.
how she will drive everyone on the top of their desires.

when the show was over, papers were forwarded and put inside a jar. it contains how much she was worth to her spectators. when the biggest sum was called in, melissa knew where to go next and what she will do to make herself numb again (for the thousandth time).

inside the cabin, she slowly moved her face close to the man, who was wearing that same emotionless mask again. the picture that draws the power she very much hated. she then whispered to it and asked about its fantasies."i want you to be a diwata and make love to me," it answered.

then she moved away and pulled a thin sheet of cloth hanging in the ceiling.

she already knew what to do...

she is indeed the nymph of every desire...

she made the cloth danced in the air

and then to her body

until she was completely covered with it.



then she drew closer

closer...

and closer...

until she ordered the mask to pull it's end.
and in his surprise,

melissa's naked body '

was already

in front of him...



as if pleading.



to be continued.