7. Enchanted-Kada! I think that was the last time i was in EK, oh my god. and the camwhorish pictures of everyone by rialto, and the group picture taken by masuuuuu!

8. Mia's 21st in M Cafe (where we all got dressed up to surprise her) and the best chocolate cake EVER.

9. that Antipolo trip, the last hurrah before everyone began doing stuff in the "real world" - before the first week of jobs and of law school - the trip where no one remembers the whole thing, but bits and pieces of it come back whenever it's talked about.

10. lara's tasteless diet lunches in high school (boiled camote and air-popped popcorn), which she'd offer to everyone but no one would take.

11. lady used to sing. =) before, she'd whisper in my ear the "oooohhhh" part in "loving you" (loving you...is easy cos you're beautiful...) just to show off. hahaha. i was secretly impressed. 

12. gin and lar used to sing across the hall to each other in high school really loudly...of course we were seniors then! i forget the title of the song but i'm pretty sure they sang it in "12" and it was a sort of happy song... like the "a few of my favorite things" from sound of music or something. and they sang it in the play when someone was dying.

13. gino being kathryn's prom date. heeheehee. and gino, kathryn, lara, cris, marco, and i went to post-prom in old swiss inn for some chocolate fondue.

14. gino's playlists and how the order of the songs always used to mean something. i remember rainy days playlists, road trip playlists, lady chill play lists, 90's playlists (which he, pot, and i would sing to in the car)...

15. gin's goodbye song from wicked. or was it rent? (i swear i should get a move on on catching up with this broadway madness). but i remember feeling and thinking that it was such a lovely way to spend our last night with gin.

***

her eyes close.
suddenly, the most brilliant white light practically blind her
that she wanted to open her eyes.

but she didn't.
instead, she waited for it...

and there it was.

photos.
colors.
lines.
shapes.
silhouettes.
shadows.

faces.
arms.
hands.
lips.

like a picture show
the images flashed from one to the next
too fast
that they were difficult to see and define
but
too slow
that she was able to feel and taste each and every single one.

can you hear it?

that whirring, buzzing sound in the background -
like a projector -

struggling to be heard over the overture of

voices.
laughter.
conversations.
tears.
confessions.
secrets.
lies.
songs.

the flicker of
picture
and the
orchestra
of sound

made absolutely no sense

even to her

but it was beautiful
and awoke some sensation

that she never thought she had

or, she thought she had long forgotten.

she struggled to see more
to remember more
to feel more
to know more

but instead, the pictures blurred
and the sound muted
and the light disappeared.

she sighed.

she opened her eyes
and turned the television on instead.

the quiet world
by jeffrey mcdaniel

In an effort to get people to look
into each other's eyes more,
the government has decided to allot
each person exactly one hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.

When the phone rings, I put it
to my ear without saying hello.
In the restaurant I point
at chicken noodle soup. I am
adjusting well to the new way.

Late at night, I call my long
distance lover and proudly say
I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you.

When she doesn't respond, I know
she's used up all her words
so I slowly whisper I love you,
thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe.

mood: thoughtful

I hate that a chunk of my family is half a world away. 

I am grateful for airplanes, phone calls, the Internet and all things that make the world seem that much smaller. Somehow, however, the days during these short but highly-charged connections (i.e. vacations) are filled with fluctuating emotions that are difficult to contain, and these technological pseudo-relationships do not seem to suffice. It’s hard to think that the question of when you will see family cannot be answered with certainty, and you are left with promises of the intangible “see you next year," the indefinite "there's always a next time," and of course, the bittersweet "we'll talk online."  To make things easier, you hold on to these assurances as tightly as you can, until you realize that it's been four years (or 12 years, depending on which family member you're speaking of) since your oldest sister (or dad, as the case may be) has been just a drive away.  

Four years since they had last called Manila home.

Four years seems like an awful long time, but the years just zipped by. I did not even notice that I had been disabled this whole time, until I realized how easily I slipped into the habit of having them around again.

It was good to have my crutches back, even for just three weeks. It is comforting to find that, even after all the space and distance, things haven't changed. 

Perhaps 16 hours isn't so far away. On the other hand, after having them nearby (even just for a short span of time), the distance looms and seems impossible to overcome, and I somehow have to relearn how to walk disabled once again.

we graduated from college with a certain philosophy to live by, a perfect set of goals to achieve.

a huge house with a lovely kitchen and a comfortable bathroom.
a sportscar - just for weekends. and a luxury car, maybe a 7 series, during the weekdays.
a trip, maybe once a year, to anywhere around the world.
a belkin bag.
broadway tickets for all the friends.
a telescope, to watch the stars go by.

in the simplicity and perhaps naivete of being young, we've created concrete measures of success. now, we keep waiting and waiting for those dreams to come into fruition. we work like mad, still keeping that goal within sight, but not having any clue as to how to get there anyway.

despite the difficulty of treading in unpredictable waters, we keep floating on, doing the best we can with what we have. we reach little milestones:

the first paycheck.
the first year on the job.
the first major project.
the first semi-promotion.
the first bonus.

because of this, we inch closer to those goals. in fact, those of us lucky enough get a taste of what we have sought for for so long, and we are able to bask in the glorious feeling of success.

trips to europe with a loved one.
an HK tour, sponsored by the company.
a well-deserved break in Singapore.
a quaint little condo off The Fort. 
beauty pageants. and winning Miss Photogenic in it.
your own home, and a Volvo you lovingly call Nemo.
managing your own store.
being a sought-after entry-level CEO.

all of these, because of your hardwork and passion.

somewhere along the way, however, after all of these beautiful triumphs, we find that it just isn't good enough. 

we work harder, dream bigger, reach higher...and we create larger, more awesome goals than ever before. we set the bar, and just when we are about to reach it, we push it back, and see the limits of what we are capable of. 

we are relentless when it comes to dreaming. and in a similar fashion, we refuse to stop fighting to reach whatever it is that we desire. though the refusal to be content may be seen as greed, inconsistency, or idealism, the fight we have within us is what gives us the right to dream.

mood: contemplative music: float on - ben lee