Born:  March 17, 1987.
 Where: San Francisco, California.
 Studies:  Journalism, in the University of Santo Tomas.
 Is: frank, confident, loud, impulsive, sarcastic, rambunctious, a *HUGE* jerk, independent, cerebral, tough, arrogant, abrasive, callous. In love.  Madly. Tamed

 Likes: Long walks in he park.. (not!) Video Games, Anything that has anything to do with computers, reading, writing.  Watching crappy movies with my girlfriend, and finding the little things in life that make it worth living.

Dislikes: Over Dramatics.  (My Girlfriend dumped me! noo! im gonna jump off the roof now! (Oh, please)) Hypocrisy, and all the big things/people that make life the hell that it can be sometimes.

E-mail/YM/Friendster: Trippin317@yahoo.com
 



Thursday, August 21, 2008

 

I just want to write..

Stillness. Quiet calm. This is what the night means to me these days. Me, alone in my room, not able to sleep because I want to squeeze every second I can out of these moments. The night wraps around me, a blanket of brooding. Why is it every night that I long for the same thing? A reprieve. To hold in abeyance the oncoming changes dauntlessly careening its way into my life.

Never in my life had I been so free. I am my own man now, providing for myself.. setting my own limits. Yet I am not reaching my potential. I am stagnant in my current stage of life, this I know.. Yet why am I so afraid of taking that step forward?

If I met myself having this problem, I know what I would say: “be strong, hang in there. Everybody goes through this. This is just a leap you must face to get on with the rest of your life.” I know I am feeling this way because I am on the edge. This is hesitation biting me right before I take the dive. This is but normal.

No matter how many times I repeat these words (I have done so millions of times –a liturgy against my fears of the future), it is no match for the stillness of the night.

I will fall asleep. The night will end, and the day will pass me in the blink of an eye.

Again and again, it will repeat itself until the day comes when I take the plunge.

The thought of having to start again.. of finding my own way again is terrifying. But only because I am looking forward. I know this. Yes, I know this. And if I am to be perfectly honest with myself, my hesitation is borne out of concern for one person. My desire to be with that person.. and the knowledge of how being away will affect that one single person in this god-awful world of ours.

No, don’t be full of yourself. I am afraid.. in doubt of my ability to function without that person’s life support keeping my heart beating, day in and day out. I am a baby, safe and sound in his mother’s womb, terrified of the big loud world outside.

Sssh.. lets keep it a secret. Just between the two of us.. that I am capable of such thoughts.. of being so weak. Of writing words so soft and shallow, in doubt of my abilities, so full of insecurities. That I am clinging on to how things are when I know all too well, that things are just scary because they haven’t happened yet.

This is not me. This is just me during the night. When the stars are out and the moon is peeking behind the clouds. When the only sound I can hear is the sound of the electric fan’s engine churning away at the atmosphere of my room.. my world until the morning.

I just want to write.

Sweet dreams, my love.

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--=| Life is what you make it.|=--



 Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Shootin the breeze
 

Welcome to my mind -- stream of consciousness –

Isn’t it funny how nowadays when you look back at memories, you count back in years?

It doesn’t seem so long ago when a year for me seemed to go on forever. Time truly is a fickle thing.

A FEW YEARS AGO, I couldn’t imagine reminiscing about something that happened years ago. I was too busy being a kid. But I'm older now. And for lack of a better thing to do, thinking about YEARS ago serves a purpose.

Now, I’m thinking about high school.. About bridges burned and friends lost... about family... Year after year, one blurred into the next. Through the looking glass of my memories, everything is all muddled, save for those that I have treasured.

Found a picture the other day, the time stamp on it read 26 12 '95. We were kids then, my sisters, brothers, and I. Preserved in that picture is a memory of us... 13 YEARS younger. Me, skinny as a street urchin, huge gaps in my teeth, posing with my siblings as my uncle snapped the picture. We had just finished wrestling then. Fooling around. Happy times forever passed, save for that instant, preserved in the photograph.

Happy times forever passed.

Its funny how time flew. Despite my best effort, I blinked, and I missed a beat. Now I understand what people mean when they say time flows. It is not constant, not a line. It is a stream. Whether fast or slow, it will go by. It will continue flowing until it reaches a river. The flow becomes a current. The river reaches the ocean and the current becomes waves so big they can devour whole continents.

Time slips by. Time stands still. Time sneaks up on you. You cant keep track of time. Does time even exist? Or is it some awkward attempt at fathoming our being? Does a sense of measure of duration help us secure our place in the immensely complex tapestry/web/kaleidoscope of the universe/cosmos? Is time truly measured by the ticks in a clock? By the rounds of the sun and moon? By the flow of the ocean?

I put the DVD of my life into the player and press fast forward. I wonder what I will see? Is there any bonus content? Who will voice the commentary? Who is the cast of characters in the future chapters of my story? How did I do in the Box Office? Will people buy it for their collection, or just rent it? Please present your membership card. Remember: To Play is Human, but to Rewind is Divine.

Right now, I cannot imagine reminiscing about things that happened decades ago. Decades ago, I was still pooping my pants. But knowing what I know now, that time will come, when years will pass my by in the blink of an eye, and they become clusters in my hard drive, badly in need of defragmentation. The time will come when I will look back at this nonsensical entry, read it in its entirety, and think to myself “God. I really thought I was making sense when I wrote this.”

It is 2:13 AM. Good Night.

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--=| Life is what you make it.|=--



 Sunday, December 23, 2007
Fatherhood
 


You once told me a long time ago that even though it is some other man's name written on my birth certificate, you still consider me as your son. You have no idea how great that made me feel.

Too bad now, i know its a load of shit. Sure, you may consider me as your son, but the way your treating your kids these days, i am not sure that is such a good thing. I dont think i want to be your son any more.

You know what made me stay here 7 years ago when i should have gone home to mom? It was how you used to take us to the movies every week. How you would talk to each of us, and how great it made me feel to have a father, and a real, more or less complete family again..

Now you cant scrounge up the courage to talk to us regularly. Its been years since you took us anywhere. And living in this house with you, is like living in a house with a zombie.

Yeah, you covered your bases. You checked with us to see if it was ok to re marry. I was the only one who had anything to say, but since everybody else was fine with it, so was i. Funny thing is, all the crap that i was afraid would happen happened. Things turned out EXACTLY as i thought they would that night in QC circle when you told us. Maybe i should have spoken up more.

This family is ruined. Whenever i think about it, it curdles my blood. Well, my siblings and i, were as solid as ever, but your part in this family has long been six feet under.

When you were asked how you felt about your daughter going to the states, you had the gall to say "I am so happy." When that same daughter was stuck in the airport, all you had to say was "Pray ka nalang." As if praying would have gotten here the 2,500 she needed to pay the man to help her get on the plane. If we hadn't insisted to go to the airport and give her the money, "Pray ka nalang" would have been all you did.

You dont give a shit im about to graduate. All you care about is you wont have to feed me anymore, im going to the states.

You didnt even ask us if it was ok for your wife to bust into our lives again. What in the seven circles of hell gave you the idea that that was a surprise we would enjoy? You kicked us out of our room without even saying a word. You gave me a fricking cell to sleep in without a pc or a tv, when i spent years in that room with you and mike.

You wonder why were so hostile toward your stuck up wife? Maybe she's just collateral. Maybe, just maybe, were fed up with you.

You think just because were not kids anymore means you can stop caring for us? That we dont need any guidance now that were all over 16? That you can spend all your time with your new wife and expect us not to care? whats more, you expect us to LIKE her? She isnt even half the woman mom is. she just came into some money.

Yeah, I blame her. But i blame you too.

To think that i worked so hard to please you. I never did get that "im proud of you" i craved for so long ago.

You dont deserve us as your children. You stopped deserving us the moment you stopped caring.

That name written on my birth certificate? That name belongs to my father.

Its funny how i think of myself now as the bastard son of mom and Jose U. Macaspac. And im proud when i do. Cause my dad's a writer. and from what i'm slowly learning, a really good one at that. He's the one i took after, thank god, and not you. One things for sure. When I have children.. Ill take after you from before you met that woman of yours. From then on, all you did, ill flip on its head.

Bye.

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--=| Life is what you make it.|=--



 Maleficent
 


As if anything you can say can scare me. Wow. Go ahead. Disconnect the DSL. Ill get it right back up. In my own room. As if you hold any sway over me. Dream on. As far as I am concerned, you are not here. So disappear. Vanish. At least until we can abandon this ship that you single-handedly sunk.

I am a rat. Rats rock.

We don’t care about your two houses in Rancho whatever. We don’t care about your cars or your Louis Vuitton. We don’t care if your daughter is the President of the Universe. We don’t care about you. So take your walker and walk away. Take your zombie with you.

At least until we can desert this ship that you single-handedly sunk.

You cant talk to me with a raised voice and expect me to listen. I am not a child. I can probably talk better than you without having to raise my voice.

I have my own will, my own reason. All you had to do to make things more pleasant here was understand that. So you go ahead and take the high ground.

Im gonna sit here, listening to my mp3s, not giving a rat’s ass what youre saying.

All I hear from you is static. So go ahead and cry. Wail away. Say you feel unloved, unwanted, unappreciated. Cause you are. Nice to know youre not oblivious to the obvious.

Salome. Tyra. Mudra. This is all you are. Mom was right.

I am no Sleeping Beauty, no Princess Aurora.

I am a Rat. I am deserting this sinking ship that you single-handedly sank.

You can kiss my ass.

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--=| Life is what you make it.|=--