o myths...

You are Form 9, Vampire: The Undying.

"And The Vampire was all that remained on
the blood drowned creation. She attempted to
regrow life from the dead. But as she was
about to give the breath of life, she was
consumed in the flame of The Phoenix and the
cycle began again."

Some examples of the Vampire Form are Hades (Greek)
and Isis (Egyptian).
The Vampire is associated with the concept of
death, the number 9, and the element of fire.
Her sign is the eclipsed moon.

As a member of Form 9, you are a very realistic
individual. You may be a little idealistic,
but you are very grounded and down to earth.
You realize that not everything lasts, but you
savor every minute of the good times. While
you may sometimes find yourself lonely, you
have strong ties with people that will never be
broken. Vampires are the best friends to have
because they are sensible.


Which Mythological Form Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

_________________

what a freaky result. i don't like vampires. got bad experiences with one.

but my fave number is nine, and i once wrote a poem about an eclipse-- it freaked the aforementioned vampire because she claimed that i wrote about her.

burning time

I really should burn my old letters. For one thing, they’re dust catchers, then they’re a fire hazard, and last, they hold old, staleexpired memories that one doesn’t need remembering.

I was going through my old journals for more quotes on time when I stumbled upon a crumpled page of a notebook with a vaguely familiar handwriting I haven’t seen in ages.

Alarms rang in my head. “Don’t read it!” my commonsense screamed, “Don’t even think of reading it! Put it back, close the journal and step away very slowly! Tomorrow, pick it up with tweezers and burn it!”

I unfolded the paper and read it. It was a letter—just one of those old high school spill-my-guts-out kind of letters. You could practically see the blood dripping from the page from its honesty. It was kinda funny now. Kinda. I had totally forgotten about it until now, and after reading it, memories started flooding in. Not exactly about the time and place when I got the letter, but that feeling of dread and confusion and a little bit of anger while i was reading it at the time. I don’t know why. Questions blared through my head,
“So where is he now?”
“So much for ‘all time’.”
“Whatever happened to ‘whatever happens’?”

I can’t help but expect people to keep their promises even if I don’t want them to. It’s stupid of me to expect it, but i still do.

This was a long time ago… it’s just funny reading all the promises of forever that a person can make in the heat of romantic emotion (aka delusion) and looking at it in the light of the time passed.

Time changes people. It’s not because we change on purpose, but it sneaks up on us until it has completely taken over everything—our words, our thoughts, our feelings, our actions, and everything around us, from the way things appear to us, to the buildings, and our friends-- even in how we evaluate our past and see our future.

I guess this is why I don’t like saying everything all at once. This is why I’m afraid to say that i commit my heart to anything or to anybody. Words trap me while change pulls on my hands tied to chains.

I don’t want anybody to feel the same way I did when I read that letter. I don’t want anybody to ask of me,
“So where is she now?”
“I thought she said she will never let anything happen between us?”

“Wow, I thought forever would be much longer.”

quoting time

“We are puny little things, the beast called Time is our great predator, and there is no escape from it. However, that is not to say there is no need to do our homework.”
– Mr. Dobbs (from David Almond’s Kit’s Wilderness)

“I’m afraid of time. I mean, I’m not afraid of not having enough time. Not enough time to understand people, how they really are, or to be understood myself. I’m afraid of quick judgments and mistakes that everybody makes. You can’t fix them without time. I’m afraid of seeing snapshots instead of movies.”
– Bailey (from Ann Brashares The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants)

"Omnia mutantur nihil interit."
(everything changes but nothing is truly lost)
- Neil Gaiman, Sandman: The Wake

"All things discovered late
to those who seek them issue forth
for love in sequel works with fate,
and draws veil from hidden worth."
- Lord Alfred Tennyson

"The division of one day to the next must be one of the most profound peculiarities of life on this planet. It is, on the whole, a merciful arrangement. We are not condemned to flights of being, but are constantly refreshed by little holidays from ourselves. We are intermittent creatures, always falling to little ends and rising to little new beginnings. Our soon-tired consciousness is meted out in chapters, and that the world will look quite different tomorrow is, for both our comfort and our discomfort, usually true. How marvelously too night matches sleep, sweet image of it, so neatly apportioned to our need. Angels must wonder at these beings who fall so regularly out of awareness into a fantasm-invested dark. How our frail identities survive these chasms no philosopher has ever been able to explain."
- Iris Murcdoch, The Black Prince


“When times are good, be happy;
but when times are bad, consider:
God has made the one as well as the other.
Therefore, a man cannot discover
Anything about his future.”
– Ecclesiastes 7:14

“There’s a hand that someday must heal
and give us the words
that time steals and won’t let us say.”
- Matt Slocum’s “I Can’t Explain”

“Set no time to the Lord, the Creator of time, for His time is always the best.”
- Samuel Rutherford

Time is both a thief and a savior.

small and comes on too strong (a scene from piazza republica, rome)

setting: saturday, 04 oct 2003. the streets around piazza republica are closed to traffic because of the anti-globalization rallies. we had to find the hotel that owns the apartment we were staying in to pay up.)

me: there's a fruit stand over there, let's ask for directions.

april: ok. (waves at the tubby italian behind the counter). scusi, do you know where hotel di petite is? (waves arms around for emaphasis, in case the man doesn't understand english)

italian man: (gets out of his store) hotel petite?

april: si. si.

italian man: (comes over and puts arm around april's shoulders and turns her around. he points to a sign on the other side of the intersection) see? hotel petite.

me: grazie. (starts for the hotel)

italian man: (takes april's hand) chinese?

april: (shaking her hand and trying to step away from the man) no, filipino.

italian man: (still not letting go of april's hand, just stroking it thoughtfully) me, italian. italians good for sex.

april: yeah, i heard.

italian man: filipinos good for sex too.

(i didn't hear the rest because i was too busy laughing)

home

i'm home. it feels good going through the motions of getting into the backdoor because the front door was locked, to sit in front of the computer, in the familiar bathroom, greeting our scruffy dogs, hugging my cat.

man, i'm tired. i haven't slept for forty hours now... it's been a good trip, but it's good to be home.

this is what i like best about going away for a while-- it's the coming back. that's why i never ever want to leave for good-- except to die and finally go to my real home, heaven.

coming back makes me see things that i used to take for granted in new and brighter light. it makes me appreciate my family and firends more. it makes my small room cosier, my bed softer. and i can say for a fact that though the sunset over venice is real nice, nothing beats the sun going down on manila bay.

my eyes are half-closed from exhaustion. my skin is stretched taut over my face from lack of moisture. the smell of pizza makes me want to hurl. heck, even just the thought of it...

i need a vacation from this vacation, but i'm glad these things happen once in a while. it's good to be back.

i'm sorry, i realize that i've been a bit hard to take in the last couple of blogs-- with all the name dropping of places and stuff that i did-- it's just that while i was there, seeing the things i've seen, i kept on wishing i could share it with my friends back home. they really are beautiful and just-- grand.

(more later, when i wake up.)

back in singapore airport again

man... i can't believe that it was only a week ago that i was in rome. good thing i kept a travel journal with me or else i wouldn't have remembered any of it at all.

i'll post some more when i get back to the philippines in several hours or so (or after i've slept off my jetlag). had a blitz tour of northern italy and tuscany after rome. as in: venice, cortina, padova, florence, pisa, siena ll crammed in four (?) days... grabe.

i just wanna say, i had fun, met some interesting people, spotted a lot of cute guys, and ate too much pizza for my own good. i had fun, but it feels good to be going home.

i made a promise to myself that when i get back to italy, i know how to speak italian other than "ciao bello! dame un bacho!" (is that how it's spelled?!) hehehe.

maleta, sorry, i only got to check my blog now... i didn't get to buy any keychains for some reason or another...

san pietro basilica

let me just say that the musei vaticani was disappointing for €10. too many fat american tourists in the sistine chapel completely ruined the awe-inspiring effect of the art on the walls, the ceilings, and the floor. but michelangelo is a genius with a serious workacholism issues.

i was feeling down when we got out of the musei because i was going "that was it?" i wanted to feel the solemnity at least. like the vacuum like feeling of stepping into that small church at the piazza di popoli. then we followed the huge walls of the vatican until we ended up in this BIIIIIIG piazza with a lot of pigeons. lo, we were in san pietro. that huge dome that i always see in encyclopedias, that big church where the pope held his masses (i think).

so we went in (after feeding a few dozen pigeons) and the place was just... overwhelming. it can make the most unbelieving soul fall on his knees and worship whatever god he has somewhere in his unbelieving heart.

i'm not a catholic, nor was i ever one... but i could only stagger past the crowd of tourists speaking in hushed voices and go to the very front where there were pews and places where you can kneel on, and i just wept. sobbed in awe and in worship of my GOD... the GOD who made the people who made that place. the GOD who gave them the creativity and minds to make that awesome church. there were just no words. just honest and clean tears of worship and awe.

whew...

three and twenty and look where i am now

i don't have much time. i'm in an internet cafe just around the corner from the apartment we're staying in. the keys on the keyboard are weird, but i think i can get used to this. i love it here. i want to live here in fact, don't know if my parents exactly approve of it, but his is a beautiful city with beautiful and genial and unpretensious people, not to mention the buildings in the old city! my God! they are so glorious and immense and just plain wonderful that i'm incoherent whenever i try to talk or write about it.

this is my fourth day in Rome and i still can't believe i'm here.

we celebrated my birthday yesterday by going back to the fontana di trevi. we already went there on our second day but i loved it o much that i insisted that we go back. it's my favorite spot in rome, although the colosseo and the forum and the piazza borghese were all beautiful and breathtaking in their own way, the fonatana is something really special. it is so amazing how it can offer you solitude in the midst of the crowd of loud tourists. it's the perpetual roar of the water, and the tight space between buildings this marble monolith was crammed in. it really takes you by surprise. i love it.

in my first time at the fontana, i just sat on one spot there and wrote on the small notebook my friend gave to me before i left. i just wrote and listened to the water. it was amazing how the words easily came to me. it attracted the attention of a coupe of italian men-- one young one who didn't say anything but just peered down at me (from his seat above me) and tried to read my tiny handwriting; and an old man who said that it wasvery clever of me to write while i'm at the fontana. when i stopped writing he explained to me what the figures and the sculptures in the fountain stood for. then he told me this interesting legend of the small fountain at the corner-- the fountain of the virgin. that whover drinks from there will have their virginity restored. he also old me things that only someone who has lived there all their life could know. it was a great pre-birthday gift. the stories he told me that night made my return to the fountain even richer than before.

i'd love to write some more, maybe later...

but i do love rome. i wish i could stay here i little longer. a year or so perhaps.

and i still can't believe that i'm actually here.

singapore

i am now in singapore airport for a stop-over before we finally head to rome, italy. our flight's not until one AM so we're killing time here, hopping from one internet terminal to another.

i love singapore international airport. it's like a mall and a space terminal at the smae time... makes me feel like i'm in star wars or something. all these aliens. hehehe

there... i'm really excited about Rome. as in. no more anxiety attacks this time. hehehe.

i'm keeping a travel journal with me, thanks to sasah's birthday gift i have a blank notepad that can fit in my bag. i'll post some of my notes here later... maybe. hahaha

inspite of myself... i'm slightly homesick for my cat. he didn't say goodbye kasi. sigh...

more later. i hope. :D

random thoughts while washing the car

(last blog before leaving...)

All my bags are packed and I’m ready to go. All my last minute stuff is done. Two hours ago, I had nothing more to do, and I was anxious. I had the option of watching another DVD to take my mind off my trip or just lie on the couch squirming until it’s time my parents take me to the airport.

Then I remembered the space wagon. It was covered with the mud and dust of driving through dry and wet weather for the past week. The maid is busy doing something. My mom is busy with the garage sale at the student center. My cat is busy sleeping. The car was begging to be cleaned. I had nothing to do but think about the trip later.

So I stood up and changed into some ratty clothes, grabbed a bucket on the way out and washed the car. I didn’t feel like it, but I had that impulse to do it so I acted on it and just let my anxious, tiredlethargic body do some mindless labor for our slave of a space wagon.

I hosed the car down first in full blast, dropped three capfuls of car shampoo into the bucket and mixed it by blasting it with hose until it frothed. Then I scrubbed it from end to end, top to bottom, relishing the thought that if cars could speak, it would be thanking me and heaving sighs of relief.

Then a couple of passers by saw me slaving over the car. I didn’t notice them until I heard one of them say, “Hindi yan katulong, maganda e.” I smiled, although I couldn’t help thinking that it’s a shame that maids are relegated to the stereotype that they couldn’t be good looking. Or something like that.

Not that I’m being mayabang or anything, but I’m thankful that I’m one of those people who has the option of cleaning cars to relieve stress. Some people have to clean cars, I don’t. I love to wash cars, but sometimes I don’t feel like it. I should remember to thank the ones who clean the car whenever I don’t feel like it.

As I wiped the last spot of wet surface on the car with a chamois, I smiled and stepped back to appreciate my handiwork. I can almost hear this once mud-encrusted car taking deep breaths of fresh air and thanking me for taking the time to clean it up. I should’ve said thanks in return because the work let me clear my mind a bit, after being fogged up about the trip for the past few days.

morning before the flight

i woke up with an anxiety attack.

hahaha

easily remedied by a prayer and Finding Nemo. hehehe

i wonder if i brought enough books.

i hope riding economy in singapore isn't as bad as economy in philippine airlines.

i like my new haircut.

i'm excited... i got this tingling at the pit of my stomach that's threatening to come up...

i'm gonna miss the cat.

i still need to buy a few items from national bookstore.

i hope i packed enough clothes.

i'm really excited. i can't eat.

marti and ninna and my dad left the house without saying goodbye. i won't see them until i get back na.
maybe dad will meet us at the terminal.

i hope i can get internet access while in italy.

i'm excited.

i really am.

honest.

feelings and leavings...

it's funny-- well, weird funny. my friend from bacolod texted me out of the blue, asking if i had finished packing for my trip and stating that i'm probably excited but a bit sad as well. i was just weirded out for a moment there. why would he say that?

i've been feeling funny for the past few days about the trip to italy. excitement is easily recognizable as one of the feelings churning in my guts, but the other feelings in the mix were pretty much better left alone untitled and unnamed.

then came that text. and when i stopped and thought about it, i had to admit that i was feeling a bit sad too. and this is weird.

then the same friend asked why is it that we feel sad (since he knows a lot about travelling too)?

i guess it's the leaving part. i thought i'm so psyched about leaving this country-- only for a little while-- that i wouldn't even dream of being homesick. but for the past couple of years, i've been, for the most part, happy about life-- my friends, my family, school, my writing, and other stuff. sure, there were tons of bouts with my depression, but compared to what my life has been so far, i'm feeling pretty good about where i am right now. i don't want to leave it while the feeling is still good.

but the thing is... i know that i'm supposed to take this trip. God wants me to go to Italy for some reason or another. (some people may take this as a nutty way of looking at it, but this is me and my thoughts and my blog) it's funny because along the way, while the preparations for this trip wasn't getting along so well, i asked for a Sign from God if all this effort that we're putting on this exhibition of Philippine artists in the Romics Festival will be worth it. anyway, the sign was pretty specific and it was almost immediately granted. so after that, even when at times it still felt like we're not going to push through, i already knew that we would. so now i'm only several hours away from our flight.

i'm rambling.

but, well... here i am. leaving the country again, but this time it feels weird. never happened to me before. my cat keeps on giving me these looks as if i should be sorry that i'm leaving him behind for a couple of weeks. then a good friend prayed for me in starbucks-- which was nice, in a weird way, because people have told me they'll pray for me, but not right after they said it. (anyway, you know who you are, if you're reading this, thanks.) and all these before-you-leave-let's-do-this gimmicks i went to.

anyway, i can't shake this feeling that i might not come back.

of course the above statement will be totally laughable as soon as i do get back in couple of weeks and do all those when-i-get-back things i promised my friends. but heck, i just feel i have to put it here.

it's past two in the morning, and i've been tired all day. still, i can't sleep.

almost there

on monday, i leave for italy...

got all my stuff done... people i needed to see were seen... i even bought new shoes.... new toothbrush... new book-- "Thief Lord" (which happens to be set in Venice, Italy-- but i only noticed that after i bought it. heheh) etc. ect.

i'm excited. :D

yun lang muna.

i'm tired too.

i can't believe i finished my school projects two weeks before they were actually due...

more later.

ciao! :)

on-air

last night, courtesy of jang, a few of our friends went to streetlife and watched the 2nd annual On-Air awards hosted by JM Rodriguez.

hmm... i really don't feel like going through the details about them right now....

let's just say that they should put a subtitle under the name of the show "(stupid human tricks extravanganza)" or something like that... in all fairness, i had fun. and the clips were funny. hehehe

things

when i was a kid, i wrote poems upon poems about friends. they were one of the most important things in the world to me back then. i fought for them, i cried for and with them, heck, i think i even mutilated my arm for one of them because i thought he needed the company.

then things happen.

you know, things. distance. fights. changes. mood swings. harsh words recklessly flung to faces. good intentions misunderstood. bad intentions understood very well. intensescary things. hurtfulpainful things. stupid things.

eventually, i hung back. didn't feel like making new friends or deepening the ones i already have. i seldom kept in touch when friends move away, and i stopped caring. it's just too much effort... too much trouble to go through... too much investment of my time and most especially my heart. i've had enough of the hurt people can cause when you let them.

so i retreated to this dark corner under the stairs and lit candles so i can write and just wrote and wrote and felt sorry for myself. then i started digging, deeper and deeper into me. the tunnels wind down down down where it's hard to breathe. one can get used to seeing in the dark when you've been in it long enough. once in a while i'd get scared that i'd never find my way out. but most of the time i was too busy digging to care.

then things happen.

people-- brave people went down the hole with a rope and flashlights-- maybe a canary too...-- and came to me. i didn't want them in my tunnels at first, but i tried to be polite and civil to them and kept on digging. but they wouldn't leave. soon i got used to them being there. they kept on talking and sharing things with me and sometime just sat in the dark with me. and before i realized i was being tricked, i was back in the light again, and almost went into shock because my lungs weren't used to fresh air, and my eyes had to adjust to the sunlight. when i recovered... the hole didn't seem like home anymore.

so now i'm here. thanks to people who were smart enough to bring lights and a rope to go down a long tunnel. i like it out here. but sometimes i wish i have enough sense to get out of the rain.

but thank God for things that happen.