What it is like

A snippet from my work. --- JSB

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"You don't love someone you can live with - you love the person you cannot live without."
---Josh Marino

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Falling in love with you is like walking on a tightrope without the tightrope.

Falling in love with you is like singing a beautiful, haunting song.

It's like singing an incomplete yet beautiful melody.

It's like a strong, gentle breeze. Inside a cozy room.

It's the palpitation after 10 cups of coffee. And the crash after that.

It's the silently heard smiles after hours of conversation. The indescribable sense of contentment which comes after that.

It's the ridiculously long five minutes. After I click the "Reply" button.
Falling in love with you is like flying.

Falling in love with you is the feeling before the curtain rises. And the feeling while the curtain is rising.

Falling in love with you is the thunderous applause of the crowd. After an epic punchline.

Falling in love with you is writing a song. And not having to grope for words and notes.

It's like dancing waltz in the rain.

It's like a promise fulfilled. A promise made eons ago.

It's the feeling after writing and finishing a book. A good book. About love.

It's probably the feeling of being in your arms. The sense of helplessness and surrender.

It's that little ray of sunshine. Amidst all the rays of sunshine.

It's that look in your eyes.

It's that sound. The sound of your voice. I want to hear. Over and over again.

Your eyes, your munchkin nose. Your adorable smile. Your whole being. Your tall figure.


It's you. And the hope that this pushes through.




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Preposterous (1)

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She was probably one of those girls---backpack, eyeglass, books, Coleman, Sisters' favorite. She was probably the quiet one, the teachers' greatest insecurity. She was probably the most intelligent in her high school class, and probably one of the most liked. She was probably the seemingly innocent, model student. She was probably the type I dislike most.

But some time ago, I realized she was also capable of doing things which do not fall under the "perfectly straight" category. She took something important away from me. She stole something I thought I hid in an unknown, secret place. She stole my heart.

I did not know how she found it, but she did. I watched helplessly as she was doing the deed.

And worse, I loved every second of it. I loved everything about it. The thrill. The goosebumps. The proverbial fireworks. The unwritten songs. The entire phantasma which is her. Her smile which fill my dreams. Her eyes. Her lips. Her musical laugh. Her voice. Her entire being.

I want to love her. I want to see her and give her a tight embrace. I want to watch clouds with her. I want to protect her from harm. I want to hold her hand. I want to sing her new songs. I want to make her happy.

What I say may seem preposterous, but what I say is true.

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Ang Tange! kong Pag-ibig

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Francisco Balagtas + Giacomo Casanova
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Ako'y di matahimik
Pagka't ika'y walang imik
Ang todo-todong pananabik
Ninanasang iyong maibalik

Alam mong alam ko.
Alam kong alam mo.
Di maitatatwang,
Ikaw ay digs ko.

Ako'y hindi patay
Ako'y hindi multo
Wag ka sanang matakot
Wag ka sanang tumakbo.

Hangad ko'y iyong ngiti
Ang halakhak mamutawi
Mula sa may lipstick mong labi
Sa may blush-on mong pisngi

Please na, ako'y tingnan
Nang ako'y maligayahan
Di yata't masasayangan
Ako ng pinag-effortan

Ang polo kong bagong-bili
Ang sapatos kong walang dumi
Ang triceps kong lumalaki
At face value kong matindi

Bagama't tambay lang ako
Dito sa maliit na mundo
Ipagtatanggol kita
Mula sa wild monsters at mumu

Ako'y marunong din naman
Sa talas ng isip o pisikalan
Sa papel man o sa bakbakan
Walang uurungang laban

Ibibigay ko sa iyo
One-fourth ng life span ko
Dahil you know you are
Kalahati ng buhay ko

I'm risking being jologs
To finally win your heart
I want to see that smile
So I can finally start

At last, ikaw nga'y ngumiti
Nahulog ang ulap, nawala ang sawi
Ako'y kinawayan at iyong pinalapit
Ako'y nagmamadali habang puso'y umaawit

Bibig ko'y bumukas nawala ang kontrol
Siphayo'y nawala, lungkot ay nag-AWOL
Ako'y nagsalita, ang isip ay nawala
Tara, lika, inom tayo ng tequila

Nagulumihanan ako't nagimbal
Nang ako'y bigla mo na lang sinampal
Laking gulat ko nang ako'y mautal
Nagkamali ako, sa isip nakintal!

Hindi pala ako ang iyong kinawayan
Yung jongoloid pala sa likod ko'y dumaan
Saan ako pupunta, I'm dedz and I'm die
I've blown my chance away, ngayon ako'y patay

Umalis na lang ako sabay bili ng chiklet
Naglakad na lang sa Faura, nag-iisip ng hirit
Nang sa susunod ay aking mahawakan
Ang iyong kamay, iyong labi'y mahalikan


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The Being Within

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I cannot sit still. I cannot stay idle.

When the person working next to me is working his ass off.

When my brothers and my father are training as if their endeavors were the only thing in the world, and are scraping their way up the world rankings as if there is no tomorrow.

When my closest friends are staying up late at night planning the next best move in their respective business ventures. Or when they search every corner for that extra minute they can spend to improve their music.

When the person I treasure most stays up late and gets up early so she can digest legal cases. And when she finds that extra hour so she could talk to me.


I cannot make excuses. I cannot think of a good one.

When the person working next to me works with only one hand and one eye. When he works dignified despite the fact that he is dyslexic (a fancy word for dumb).

When my father almost spend every dime for tournaments and opportunities to help my brothers grow, develop and mature as athletes, despite our not-so-good financial condition.

When my friends work 26 hours a day. When they cut their bodies in half to be in two places at a time.

When the person I treasure most has to deal with problems of her own, as if the high pillar of a stack of cases on her table was not enough to keep her occupied for 72 straight hours.


I could not sit still. I could not relax. My conscience won't let me.

When I see the glorious smile of the person working next to me as he finishes his ridiculous paperwork. When I hear him heave a sweet sigh after our day's struggle.

When I see the triumph in my brothers' eyes as they walk with swagger on their way to the stage to get their medals and trophies. When I see the pride and honor on my father's and my mother's eyes as they watch.

When I see the extraordinary sense of satisfaction and fulfillment on my friends' faces as they watch their ventures grow. When I see the passion on their faces as they hit high notes, shred guitar riffs and beat drum lines. When I see their ridiculous effort to improve themselves despite the natural limits.

When I see the person I treasure most in class, reciting everything she read the night before, getting straight A's on her law classes. When I hear her giggle over a detail she was not able to remember in the middle of that recitation.


Could I blame anyone if I fall short?


You see, I could blame anyone. I could blame you for not caring about this. I could blame the government for not putting enough attention on educational policies, and for pulling my leg regarding the whereabouts of my brother's one thousand dollar fund for his official athletic campaign abroad. Heck, I can even firehose the government with human excrement and it would not even make a difference. I could stand all day shouting expletives, heckling the justice system for letting killers, drug lords, plunderers and rapists go over a citation of stupid legal precedence and ridiculously flawed statutes. I can find a way to blame anyone I come across with. I can blame celebrities for evading tax. I can blame the pot-bellied police for being pot-bellied, and for being stupid. I can blame the Barangay Captain for using funds to establish a beerhouse. I can blame my teacher for teaching me that cocoons come first before caterpillars. I can go on forever trying to blame anyone.


But you see, I will not.


Because it's a freaking waste of time, a waste of existence. I'd rather scrape my way up my own ladder inch-by-inch than throw grenades blindly. Some things are really shit in disguise, so the possibilities for screw-ups are really inevitable. Instead of heckling you, my dear friend, for procrastinating instead of trying hard not to do epic failures, I'd rather mind my own. And I'd rather you mind yours. It would be absurd to complain and whine about the stupid TV channel when I have the freaking remote control in my hands, right?


Maybe it's about time you press yours. And try to get a life. We may be living in a world and a society full of shit, but we can not let it inside us. Do your damn part.

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Of Words, Gestures and Language Games

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To be understood.

That is the primary and most important purpose of words, or generally, of communication. People say things to be heard and be understood. To say differently is to cheat one's self---it defeats the very purpose of words.

However, things are not as clear cut. There are things such as noises and gestures and contexts and preconceived notions which ALTER, or worse, DISTORT the intended meaning of words being heard. There is this philosophical concept called LANGUAGE GAME which should be used simultaneously by the parties communicating, or simply people conversing, in order to UNDERSTAND each other.

Take the word "wicked" as an example. To some, it may connote negatively. "You're wicked as a witch." Conversely, it may even be a praise, "Wow, you're wicked sick!" The point is, words are interpreted differently by different people. Ergo, one should be sure that all parties/individuals are both "playing" the same language game before he/she reacts to what was heard.

This is a common source of misunderstanding among individuals. Not everyone realizes that all individuals have more-or-less DIFFERENT language games. Basically, PROPERLY construing a meaning out of words is a bit complicated than it sounds. First and most natural, we construe the words' NATURAL and PLAIN meaning. The problem is, majority of the people [un]intentionally STOP here and refuse to go the next levels, which are the determination of the INTENT of the speaker and the evaluation of the CONTEXT surrounding the communication process. Don't worry about the jargons, these are really very simple.

The words "I love you" may sound more credible if it were not to come from a man of ill-repute. The words will also sound more sincere if they were uttered in a near-death situation than in an ordinary day. Words and their meanings are very fragile, and should be handled with due care, knowledge and responsibility.

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Twilight

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The truth about every story?



They all start with the STARE.

The first stage. The silent, noisy prelude. Sometimes planned, sometimes accidental, but the latter provides the greater excitement.

The stare is essential in a story.


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They say that when you meet the person of your dreams, time stops.

When I saw her, time stopped.

And moved on.

When I saw another her, time halted again.

And moved on.

When I saw another her again, time stopped again.

And went on again.

This was just about it, for a couple of times.

But when I saw HER...


Time froze. As if every other minute detail of the world froze. The long queue of people around skidded to a halt. The droplets of water from the school fountain were suspended in mid-air. The wind stopped, the world fell silent. A friend, who tripped and was on the verge of diving face-first upon the cold, shiny red floor seemed to be flying. The professors dining around the long table looked to be da Vinci's Last Supper---very still yet vividly animated.

I walked toward her. Unblinking. When my face was just inches away from hers, I reached out to hold her cheek. Slowly, I began reach for her lips.

But when it was about to happen, everything moved again. Everything moved again real fast. Fast-forward.


Time is passing...


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Three Strings

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Shrouded by mystery
He plays strange tunes
On a cold night of June
On his cold, old guitar


With his missing three strings
He started to sing
To hum, haunting songs
As if there's nothing wrong


As he taps on the board
Hi fingers delicately
Moving---a beautiful noise
From the out-of-tune guitar


His eyes, in such sorrow
Stares with silent madness
Even joy dances with sadness
That strays tonight, til morrow


He stands and turns away
From this stoned, uncaring place
With all the things he brought today
BUT ONE, he took them all away


Guess what is it he left behind?
Alone, on its own, for someone to find
The man then stopped, to turn and see
The guitar found its way to me


The guitar found its way to me
The guitar found its way to me


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31 - August - 2010
22:12

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