Archive for March 2016

Someday Somewhere

Sunday, March 27, 2016 Comments Off




If you ask any one of my close friends, they would tell you that my lifelong dream is to live alone somewhere abroad––preferably somewhere with breezy Summer afternoon and colder than average Winter mornings. Even though they could only roughly describe why I've always wanted to go out, but they all know how much I want to live a life that is quite different from the life I am currently living. I am too full of life to be contained in this fully packed country. Sometimes, I feel like I am too much of a person for my closed ones; too much of a daughter for my parents. If I were to be kept here, as an existence with so many things building up inside her, I don't think I will be able to fully live up to my potentials. I understand that it sounds incredibly inauthentic and unapologetically narcissistic, but I suppose that is one of my greater fears. I am afraid of withering in this metropolitan country that does not offer anything but constant consumerism with their capitalist ways; in here, I have found nothing but great disappointments in chasing anything other than capitalist objects, including romantic love and passion.

I should stop myself there, before I could turn this post into a long one. The reason why I uploaded all of these beautiful pictures is because I encountered a problem this weekend. I don't know if you've noticed this about me, but my response of facing a problem is to not facing it. I would just escape to a place somewhere that is not necessarily real. This weekend, I decided to escape to a place where I feel everything is finally right––where the only feeling that is left on my being is contentment.

All of the pictures above are obviously not mine. If they are yours and you want them to be taken down or given credit to, please contact me

Collection of Recollections, Part II

Sunday, March 20, 2016 Comments Off

Maybe one day we'll meet again,
talking about
why we refuse to remember
and
what we forget to remember.

Your eyes would be
warmer, wiser, but
tougher to the unfamiliars.
And I would be carrying something:
a laptop bag, a grocery bag,
or perhaps even my child.

I would be easier to swallow,
a less solid version of
something you used to have,
someone you used to know.

We would greet each other
kindly,
doing a once forgotten dance
a smile, a hug, and a onceover.

Two reunited souls,
seeing each other again —
at long last!
But we'd both know,
there'd never be greater distance,
than time long past.

— Salute to my Almost

Faux Self-Made Reality

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Last weekend, I went to my hometown for a simple, weekend getaway. My purpose there was to attend my close friend's graduation ceremony; a fully packed fiasco that could not have been any hotter if it was held 5 meters away from the Sun. The overall situation did not make me cheerful, not in the slightest, although I felt a lot better once I met my friend. That whole Saturday I spent with my friends from college, reminiscing about the time long past and just simply cooling off from the hectic week that we had, especially considering that the night before I just got back home from a business trip. However, it was not until Sunday that I started collecting my thoughts after a few months of not being able to think about anything other than work.

On that particular Sunday, I did not sleep in. I woke up earlier than usual—much earlier than I liked and the length of my sleep was not as long as I needed. It was too short for a restful sleep, and it was not enough for me to catch up from the sleepless nights that I had few days prior. But, since I already had made plans with the aforementioned friend for a simple Sunday brunch, I could not afford any more sleeping in and lazing around the house; though I was almost tempted to just invite her over for a breakfast that I could simply make and just enjoy the impossibly expensive sound of quietness. I also knew, however, that both me and my friend needed a small stretch of secluded time and space for us to just share whatever it was that ran into our head and smashed the heck out of our consciousness. We needed whatever it was that had us draining every single thought that we each had about how we deal with reality and what we have to face every day.

We also talked about our dreams. And what we would have done if we had romantic love, the one that went away from us. What we could have and would have done if that kind of love even graced its presence in our lives. We talked about how simple it was to talk with someone that is not from our country, how it was easier to share our triumphs and trials with someone from foreign countries, and how they are less judgmental. It is the kind of conversation that made me mull over the choices that I've made in my life so far, especially concerning my professional endeavour.
There had always been doubts, since the beginning. Some people might not know but I have always wanted to be something else—something more—but since there were only limited options, I had to settle for this one since it offered me something so much better than the other options I had. There was some circumstance which seemingly sounded perfect for me—if I were to settle down in this country. But I had always wanted more, anything felt better than anyone could propose to me. To be completely honest, I've never been fond of the idea of waking up and realising that I had to settle down with anyone and anything. There had always been a life, somewhere out there, that was meant for me; a place that I should have gone home to with a special kind of scent that always cling on my attires, reminding people that I exist in my own terms and my own accounts.

What saddened us the most was the fact that not everyone could accept that. Not everyone could and would understand the infinite emptiness which loneliness enclosed you in and locked you up inside your head because your surrounding's incapability of accepting and recognising your thoughts and emotions. People would just reason that your inability to fully connect with your surrounding because you got arrogance, ego, and pride. The trifecta that sounded bad on everyone's lips no matter how they say it. We were alienated by what they perceive in us, we were distanced because they saw what we wanted was absurd, and we were foolish for wanting it. And it was true, what we wanted were not available, due to its prior commitment and distance; they are still unavailable as I write this.

That Saturday reminded me again why I wanted to leave. Why the whole absurdity of routines and halfhearted acceptance of faux self-made reality had made me forgotten what I should be living for. And I aim for something more, something different, something that will adapt to me as I am to them. I seek for solace, for peace, and for restful sleep; wherever it is.

The Element

Sunday, March 6, 2016 Comments Off

My parents have always been opposed to my term of love. They have proven to me, time and time again, that the ideas of love that I think about are either too impossible to function or too delusional. What they think of love, and consequently relationship, is just too different from my idea of love and what I seek from it. And for the first time in my life, I understand what they want and what they want me to have.

It all started with the usual Friday night out with my friends from work. We have this routine of going out, every two weeks or so, which we always look forward to. During the hours when we are out of the office, we would simply be friends, not coworkers; meaning, everything that we rant that are exclusively office-related won't be repeated to anybody else from work both when in and out of office. We created this safe space where every single word that we say would not be held against us should anyone at work ask us about those particular topic in the future.

On that particular Friday night, we went to this relatively new gastrobar near our office. It was neatly located between two huge trees, and not that hard to spot from the main street. I was skeptical of the place at first since I really had not heard any single one of my friend mention about it. But I was proven that the place was nice after all. The gastrobar was decorated tastefully, somewhat reminded me of a broken times in the 60s with art deco, and they serve you with these age old drinkwares that looked like they were summoned from a time long past; the whole place was a pretty homage to the glorious days when Andy Warhol was the host of every glorious event in the world.

The most important thing of this gastrobar, however, is its dim lighting and moderate space between each tables, they provided us quiet intimacy in which we could chat privately with each other, talking about various topics, from the mundane to the most important: the affair of the heart. It's bound to happen, really, when you put few females together, especially after a long week. Obviously, the topic that we always ended up talking is romance affair, or any other type of romantic endeavour, which sadly I haven't had anything worth to talk about. But, I have always loved listening about it; about how someone could ignite your passion, or about how you can truly be comfortable with someone else that they become a part of you, an extension of your soul inhabited in another body.

The conversation on that Friday night was interesting to me because it had given me a new perspective in seeing what my parents (and to some extent my friends) want me to have concerning love or romantic endeavour. I finally understood that because of what my coworker was talking about romance. She was currently having this fiery passion inside of her that is ready to burn longer than one trip around the Sun. I admire her for that. I admire a person's courage when they make decisions based on their passion and emotion, instead of making year-long decision making process the way I do. And now I get what my parents want me to have. They want exactly what my coworker want, a giant ball of fire that is ready to burst whenever I am near the person that I am in love with. They want me to feel like there is tsunami inside, ready to devour everything on its path. They want me to feel like there is tornadoes inside, throwing everything out of its way. They want me to feel like there is volcanoes inside, extremely hot and eruptive. They want passion.

But it's not what I want for myself. To tell you the truth, in every relationship that I pursue, be it romantic or platonic, I always seek for the intimacy; a certain closeness that I have with the other person. I want us to blend almost seamlessly with each other. I want us to have something that can be shared with each other, regardless of the type of relationship. And I want to feel safe with them, like all these guards that I have been purposefully built over the years can be torn down with a single touch, with a single word, and a single glance. I don't want that deconstruction to be deliberate either, I want it to be mutual. I want myself to give them the power of destructing my walls. True, I have built a rather large and complex labyrinth, but often the people who are able to push the button for deconstruction found them accidentally, and without so much of a meaning to burn my labyrinth. This is where I differ from my parents and from some of my similar minded friends. I want something that is borne out of familiarity and comfort.

And with that, I can honestly tell you: I pick the calmness and the depth of the ocean, over the burning Sun.
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