Threads

We’re interwoven. We pretend to be autonomous or we would like to think we are. But somehow, something in the universe connects us, binding us in more ways than we had originally known.

A Malaysian tells his taxi driver kanan and the guy goes right. A Filipino tells a pedicab driver this and he does the same.

A Filipina yuppie recalls watching Ultraman as a child. An Indonesian professional says he did the same.

And on and on. Tiny threads that string us together into a colorful banner circling through the world.

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Weak Spot and Happy Pill

You are my weak spot and happy pill. I barely know how to resist you nor can I ever deny you. I can’t keep a grudge on you for too long. But then there are days when you frustrate me, devastate me, and I try to rack my brains as to the what, the why, the how did I ever fall for you in the first place?

But even after my emotions go plummeting down, one dose of you and I’m up above the clouds again.

weak-spot

No More Countdowns

I’ve only realized all my countdowns have disappeared. I used to keep track of the days till our next rendezvous – 157 days, 98 days, 85 days, 63, 47, 22, 10, 5, 1. But now, time has already started to stretch on till eternity, like train tracks that seem to have no end.

At times, I still get anxious when I don’t see you in a while. But then, I simply breathe in and remind myself, “I’ll see you on Friday, I’ll see you on Sunday, I’ll see you soon, soon.” The days are no longer numbered. Fridays, Sundays – they are all tomorrows, and they sneak up on me as quickly as the next train stop.

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Second Time Around

You know the feeling when you watch a movie the second time around? How that sense of familiarity sinks in and you suddenly realize, Ohhh, that’s what it was all about…? I feel like I am watching things the second time around.

Or the third. Or the fourth. Or the fifth. Or the nth.

One time you took me to Makati and we spent a good portion of the night looking for an open coffee shop. The rain was drizzling on our cheeks. We paused. I told you the story of that one time we ran through the rain, when you sent me off to the bus going back to my hometown. You didn’t really remember. We walked on and settled on the café across the street from your office building.

I almost got lost the next time I tried to go there. Then by the next return, it was like coming home. And now as I roam Ayala’s pavements, I feel like I am watching this movie the second time around.

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Ayala by late PM.

Oh, Hello

Perhaps you are wondering if this blog is still alive. It is. It has fallen asleep these past few months. But stick around and maybe you’ll see it coming back to life.

It will soon be eight months since my homecoming. Just eight months, but I already feel like I have been here since forever. Still, like cross talk, what was in Malaysia crisscrosses into what is in Metro Manila now.

We go through the tunnel near Ayala in EDSA and I feel like the Petronas Twin Towers will emerge anytime. I walk through Greenbelt 5 and I think I’m just lost in a new wing of IOI City Mall.

I have an ex-colleague from Malaysia working here. I’ve also been connected to a Filipina who has been attending Malaysia’s Midnight LG but has now come back home. I’ve started wearing my black office work dresses again.

I’m teaching now. I do distance education. In other words, I have a long distance relationship with my students and we do most of our interactions in cyberspace.

Adrian and I have, thankfully, graduated from that. As of blog writing time, I’m sitting with a view of the sun setting over HV Dela Costa Street, waiting for him to pick me up for our dinner date. I think back to our 1am once-a-week Skype dates. I don’t ever want to go back to that.

I’ve gained weight again. I think it’s because I eat so much when I’m with Adrian, when I’m with my friends, when I’m with my colleagues, when I’m with my family. It’s fine. I’ll go jogging tomorrow, or, like Elizabeth Gilbert said, I’ll just “buy bigger pants.”

I’ve been writing poetry sporadically. You’ll see some of them in this space here. But life here is more rushed, busier, I think. The week has flown by, I haven’t even realized it will already be Friday tomorrow.

I’ll do my best to keep this blog updated. Besides, it feels good to be back here writing again.

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That old school webcam selfie.

On Moving Forward

I’m laying my life down
again. Awakening from a season
of rest to come and heed
this call, disamplified like murmurs. In
truth it has never left my
heart.

I’ve learned to be stripped of crowns, I’ve learned to
be, but now it’s time to move
and do.

To come before the throne room, to
live a life of childlike, unashamed worship, to
sing songs that touch
the Father’s heart.

To call forth nations as
my inheritance, to
be an instrument in seeing
God’s glory cover the whole earth
just as water covers the sea.

To serve the people, to embrace
family, to have one heart with this
body.

No more molting, it’s time for soaring.