even if in vain

I search for your silhouette at night
when the lights are dimmed
and the corridors
that witness your whispers
are lifeless

I seek your warmth
as the wind traverses across rooms
reaching with scrawny
fingers
for sleeping prey

I wait in eager anticipation
for the return
of the faint trace
of your breath
upon my being

Once upon a time

Walt Disney ruined my life. All this talk of true love and happily ever-afters. All the dreams of having prince charming come and sweep me off my feet to take me to a haven full of blurred flowers and yellow butterflies. All their poor little princesses who eventually get their perfect lives together in the end.

It would have been so easy to tell who prince charming was. The first guy to come along who looks just about ready to go fight a fire-breathing dragon just to receive a perfumed handkerchief from your dainty hands would be mr. regular-everyday-prince-charming. The only problem would have been locating the nearest fire-breathing dragon.

But alas, as is the sickness of youth today, I fell for the immortal joke of good old Mr. Walt Disney. How was I supposed to know that the ride into the sunset does not go on? Who was supposed to tell me that the story continues to include twelve children and an oversized prince who apparently forgot the important concept of moderation? When will I learn that nothing and nobody changes? Those who hurt you aren't under a spell that can be broken overnight. No. Not even if I wait a lifetime, it will not change and I do not have the power to break the curse we have stumbled into. No amount of shooting stars or waiting for a fairy godmother will do the trick.

How much longer before I get tired of this?

of you?

desperate

harried streaks of tears
r d
a o
c w
e n

dark skies

containing stories of eros
shattering on the pavement

creating echoes in the
recesses of the soul

and you run
naked
as the downpour begins

with outstretched arms
you fill your mouth

in the hopes of
salvaging
even
a
single
drop for your own

mushy stuff

For those of you who don't know, I have a twin. Normally, I wouldn't feel like writing about people connected to me in such a direct way (Both because it's an intrusion on their privacy and also because they might be reading this.) but today, I feel like writing about it so bite me. (just kidding. i would never dream of having your incisors on my very sensitive skin.)

When classmates or new acquaintances find out that I have a twin, the first thing they ask is, "How does it feel to have a twin?" I HATE THAT QUESTION. It's like asking a goldfish how does it feel to be swimming all the time. I bet it would get this really dark look and scream "WHAT DO YOU THINK? I DON'T SWIM = I DON'T BREATHE!" Being the calm (don't give me that sarcastic look) and gentle person that I am (WHAT? I CAN BE GENTLE!), I politely tell them that I wouldn't know because I've never known how it feels like not to have a twin. I'd rather they had asked me the reason for our existence on earth or the date the magna carta was signed.

When I was younger, I used to scream "I have my own identity!" just to let people understand that my sister and I are two different people. And when people would start comparing us, I'd scream even louder, "I'm my own person and I don't have to be like her or compete with her!" But I think I screamed more to remind myself than to let other people know.

Don't get me wrong, I love my sister. She's great and to put it in a word, perfect. I used to think that I was lucky to have such an independent personality or else I would have been eternally struggling every step of the way just to catch up with her. With the way things have always been, I've never bothered to do anything beyond what has moved me. I'm my own person. Yet slowly, I have realized that if not for her, I wouldn't be so independent and adamant at being my own person in the first place.

I have a lot of friends and classmates now that don't know that I have a twin. They usually find out by themselves (This involves meeting my twin somewhere on campus, trying to engage her in conversation and getting a DO-I-KNOW-YOU? stare from her.) and when they do, I am sure to receive a detailed accounting as to how, where and when they met her. Maybe if this happened in the past, when we were both taking the same classes and hanging out with the same people, I'd roll my eyes and say that it wasn't that big of a deal to have another individual out in the world with the same birthdate as me. Lately, however, I've found that I like it when others find out that I have a twin. And when I pried into that emotion, I realized it's less because it involves me but more on the fact that I still want her to be a part of those aspects of my life. When people find out, I get this big lump in my chest that would scream PRIDE if it were painted neon.

I think that even if we weren't twins, I'd feel the exact same way.

my father is so adorable!!!!

Three days ago, my mom went to Sri Lanka to attend a forum. As expected, we're all proud of her and we're all really happy that she's been given this opportunity. What surprised me, however, is the e-mail i got from my dad the day after my mom left for Sri Lanka. (She's only going to be away for ten days.) I thought the e-mail was so adorable that I've decided to post it here (I think my dad would have posted this on his own blog if he had one).

Liham sa Aking Asawa na nasa Labas ng Bansa:

Ging,
*That's what he calls my mom.*

Miss na kita.

I hope that you are enjoying every minute of your out-of-the-country experience.
I am sure na marami kang kwento pag balik mo.
Promise, I’ll give you my ears one-hundred-fifty-five percent pag dating mo--on one condition: pasalubong ko.
Pero if it will be a problem, never mind. I can live without any pasalubong.
It is you I want. It is you I love. (and is it you they are talking about?)
*cute!cute!cute!*

Jacob went to CDO today to bump heads with YFCs. Their venue: SM. He is probably just going to enrich his love life, to which I have no objection whatsoever.

Esau brought home two chicks yesterday: one was tall, and the other, much shorter (but probably taller by a few ml than Vicky Morales of Miranda, MF, Buk.). Both are from Manila and work with yellow cab, and will probably be stationed here for quite awhile to supervise store affairs; which store, by the way, is still being put up on the SM garage building.
While we were eating lunch, I asked the shorter one if she has a bf from cdo. She said, “wala po”. I asked the taller one the same question. She said “meron po”. I asked her the family name of her bf. The shorter one answered for the taller one and said, “Real”. And the three of them (that includes Esau) were looking at each other like silly, and were uttering gibberish jokes only the three of them understood. So, I just pretended not to care or understand. Question: should I object or pretend to object or leave things as they are?
*my older brother and his real girlfriend (they've been together for 4 years, probably it's been longer but i stopped counting at 4, had a quarrel after they read this.) *

I have not heard anything from the twins today. They are probably busy with their studies today, Sunday. Anyway, I hope they will text me at seven pm tonight. It shall surely make my day and will put a happy smile on my right-this-very-moment lonely predisposition.
*my sister cried after reading this. that's probably because we didn't text him. ahehehe.*

Yan muna for today.

Love you mama!

Le jeune (Real)
*I have no idea where this came from. Why didn't anyone tell me my father was FRENCH???*

I think most of you would agree that it would be really nice to read something like this when it comes from your dad who's writing it for your mom. However, after reading it, I only have one question in mind, WHY DID HE SEND IT TO ME, MY SISTER AND MY MOM'S SISTER AND NOT TO MY MOTHER???? Haaa...I think this is what they meant when they said "It's the thought that counts." *sigh sigh sigh*

RED

You keep hidden inside your closet
all that you fear to
cast your eyes upon

For you shiver
at the nakedness
of my withered soul

Reminding you only too well
of unearthly cries
and savage drops of red

Of starless nights
when the wind failed to stir
and children hid under beds

Of when you left me
in the guilty hands
of lust-ridden demons

tignan mo sila

Nasabi ko na ba sa iyo? Lagi akong nakatingin sa kanila. Dahil bago pa sila. Dahil hindi pa nila matiis na mahiwalay sa piling ng isa't isa. Dahil iniisip pa nila yung mga bagay na nakakatawang isipin. "Kumain na kaya siya?" "Sino kaya kasama niya ngayon?kausap?iniisip?" "Ano kaya suot niya?" "Sana nakapag-aral na siya." Na para bang hindi pa sapat sa kanila ang hirap ng mabuhay na iniisip ang sariling pangngangailangan kung kaya't dinadagdagan pa nila ng pamomroblema ng buhay ng isa pang tao. Kung iisipin, may alam na rin ang taong 'yun. Kakain kapag gutom. Marunong pumili ng mga kausap at kasama. Mag-aaral kapag kinakailangan. At mabilis ang pagsagot ng "ikaw" kapag tinanong mo kung sinong iniisip.

Nasabi ko na ba sa iyo? Natatawa ako sa kanila. Lagi silang magkasama. Laging may pinag-uusapan. Bakit kaya di sila nauubusan ng kwento e sila lang rin naman ang nagsama buong araw? Nakakatawa kapag nakikita ko silang nagkakabati pagkatapos ng isang maikling away. Hindi nila alam mas dadalas pa ang mga sagutan at walk-outan. Minsan, gusto ko silang lapitan at sabihan, "Magsasawa rin kayo sa isa't isa! Wahahaha!"

Nasabi ko na ba sa iyo? Minsan naiinis ako sa kanila. Masyado silang masaya. Masyadong tumatawa. Masyadong madalas ngumiti at magbulungan. Nakakaloka sila. Parang ang saya ng mundo para sa kanila. Parang walang mga taong gutom at handa nang magpakamatay dahil sa hirap ng buhay. Parang ang bukas nila ay ang liwa-liwanag at wala na silang aabutan na ano pa mang hirap. Gusto ko silang pag-uuntugin at imulat ang mga mata nila sa katotohanan ng buhay.

Nahahalata mo na ba? Inggit na inggit ako sa kanila.

more on my "favorite" professor

Since I've started writing about my beloved Psychology 150 professor, I've decided to share the rest of the strange yet highly interesting lessons he's been teaching. (The guy's a riot!)

First of all, our class is supposed to be a class on personality. Other classes with the same course outline have been talking about Jung, Freud, and all the other major contributors to personality theories but as expected, my class hasn't even touched those topics. I want to learn! I want Freud! I want Jung! I want a normal professor who would talk some sense even if only for a maximum time of 5 minutes! But with the luck I have, I got the ONLY class, imagine the chances, with the professor who refuses to teach about anything remotely related to the syllabus.

Okay maybe I exaggerate. All our classes are based on theories on personality. However, the method with which he teaches us are so unorthodox, not to mention a wee bit loony, that it's rather hard to take any of it seriously. During one of the more productive periods in class, we talked about the validity of the claim that an unconscious mind exists. Being the brilliant mind that my professor is, he rushes out of the classroom in mid-sentence. He comes back quite proud of himself whilst holding in his hands tiny crystal balls attached to pieces of string. And the excited gleam in his eyes slowly spelled out T-W-I-L-I-G-H-T-Z-O-N-E.

What was his brilliant plan you ask? Simple. We hold the free end of the string to which the crystal was attached and we sort of suspend it with our arms stretched straight out in front of our body. Now, with all the concentration we could muster, we would will the crystal to rotate clockwise and then counter clockwise without moving the string physically. When this tiny feat was accomplished, we would ask a question about ourselves (something we know about ourselves) and if the ball swings backwards and forwards, the answer is yes. When the ball swings from left to right, however, the answer is no. Hmmmm...And the plot begins to thicken...

So we're all kind of in this state of is-he-serious-i-think-it's-time-to-drop-this-class, when he instructs us to ask the ball if we could talk to our unconscious mind. (I could only just supress the nervous laugh arising from my throat) If the answer was yes, we were to proceed to ask it questions about our future. We spent the next hour and a half consulting a fake crystal ball, which he apparently bought for 15 pesos, about the most important decisions that would affect our future. Perfect.

If there's one thing I'll get from this class, it's experience as a fortune teller, which if I'm lucky, I'll be able to add to my resume.

It was worth going to class for

I was in class last Thursday and although I'm sure most of my classmates found the lecture very interesting, I had a tough time keeping my lids open.

*note to self: Erik Erikson's psychosocial stages of development makes for very good reading material for nights when sleep seems elusive*

I snapped back into reality, however, when the sound waves resonating from the general vicinity of my professor reached my ears, bounced along the necessary boundaries of my ear canal, hit my ear drums, converted into energy my nerves were capable of carrying and were then transduced into information my mind comprehended.

*another note to self: Do not listen to much to your Sensation and Perception class. It will turn you into Frankenstein and rip your non-existent social life into shreds. *

"My father is 94. And there's nothing wrong with him except for the fact that he's, well, OLD.", my professor uttered. It would be good to add at this point that my professor is already married, has children, and has a head crowned with an abundant amount of gray hair. He is also considered to be an esteemed member of the SENIOR faculty in my department.
OLD. OLD. OLD. OLD. OLD. OLD. OLD. OLD.
The word seemed to echo in my head for an eternity. The way he said it, it was like being old was a disease that MUST BE AVOIDED AT ALL COSTS. As if going through the cycle of aging was tantamount to having your arm cut off, being diagnosed with cancer and having on and off kidney failure. It was as if he, himself, wasn't...(you get the idea)

Maybe I over-reacted when he said that but believe me, you'll love the next inspiring thought that enters his head (Hallmark should make cards with this on the front cover. They'd make a killing out of all the children who would buy it for their own LOVABLE dads):
"I really think he's ready to die. It's just that it hasn't happened yet."

Ah yes, with age does come true wisdom.