left over chickens

A month ago my wife and i decided to get two maids.. one for the house and one for red, to be his nanny.. when i got home i didnt expect the two were to be 18yr olds.. but they look old.. thin and kinda shy.. at first i really dont like them.. i tried askin Dj to ask for replacements.. i dont want red to be left alone with them maybe because i dont know if they can handle him..and to be honest i dont like their skins.. but dj asked me to give them a chance, and i said ok..

i went to the grocery and bought them things.. for personal use like facial wash, mouth wash and stuff..i even got them a dentist and doctor's appointment.. im spending money here na.. i dono why and i dont want to ask..

a week just passed.. first day i talked to them and i made the other one cry.. i just said that whoever would be the nanny will have a great responsibility..in other words if something happens to Red..(God forbid)i will unleash hell upon them.. but hey.. who wants those things to happen naman..

now the nanny is getting good handling red.. but still i need to get a doc's apointment and xray.. just to be sure.. but my burden is this... the helper who handles the house..i really dont know whats her problem but almost everyday she has a booboo..im tryin to understand, im tryin not to get mad, but its hard for me coz at the end of the day my life is better withouth her.. im the one who's udjusting..

her story, my burden
i call her JO... i really dont know her real name but her mom was the classmate of my wife's aunt in the province..so anyway.. she has 7 sibblings, shes the middle child..didnt finish school coz of obvious reason.. they dont have money, even for food...they have a weekly budget of 100 pesos.. same amount as my taxi fare everyday goin to work...she told me once, that they usually look for food at the garbage cans of fast food chains.. then they re-fry anything they find.. they are poorer than the poor..dont want to get into details what they do to eat or sometimes they dont eat at all..the youngest of the children is one year old..older than red by six months.. i cant imagine red in that situation...so im having a hard time to ask her to leave..i know she's helping her family..she even told me she's gona save money and buy her little sisters and brother toys for christmas..honestly im willing to help her..but her work or how he handles the house chores is kinda bad and i didnt expect that from her coz she worked na as a maid... ive already talked to her dozen of times, and everytime she cries..

last nite. i got mad coz of something kinda serious happend.. and i asked her to leave my house first thing in the morning... but i guess.. she really is my burden now..my test..the things she is doin wrong is not intentional but lack of something else... i called her up and asked her to stay and she told me she's sorry and will not do the samething again..im tryin to accept her now.. im the one whos is tryin to understand.. willing to adjust.. willing to ahve a mild stroke evrytime she do things but the most important here for me is ...

she is saving money to buy toys for her sisters and brothers for xmas and bring a decent meal for her family on xmas day..

i can live with my burden..


my life is better now.. still same old problems..
but hey, i can still smile and

give life a*finger

RED is the color of my life today..

wrote this less than a year ago..

***
HOPE
Fri Jan 27, 2006, 5:00 PM

...its been too long.. havent post anything in awhile..anything new?? yeah i'm gonna be a (daddy)tatay na...i thought it was gonna be easy making that little bugger..but hell no..even with practice, couldnt make it right..it took us 3 years..dont wana go into details but we did everything..from the positions, billings, rhythm, natural, etc etc..oh except ubando and st claire..it was a nice christmas gift for the family..especially to my family..my dad cried.. my mom prayed..me?? i just sat there in the office and cried for a while.i was happy really happy but got scared..really dont know why but it felt scary..i just realized then that we decided not to make the baby and just save and go to australia..so he/she is an accident.. a happy one..

after 7weeks of bein happy..

reality sets in..

dj was confined in the hospital for bleeding/spotting..the pregnancy was nearly aborted coz of that..every minute i was nearly breaking down seeing her like that..i couldnt do anything but to be there.. i let her cry once in a while just to make her feel better..now she doing fine, we're home na..having the same problems but now we know what to do.. same problems, same emotions, same hope, same people helping and same prayer

.....praying for a faith like a child.***

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NOW

its never been better.. my life.. anything new? yah.. got a great xmas gift.. he's round,chubby, he has lots of hair on top..less on the side..farts like hell..and unleashes it when he shits.. smiles like an angel..like a devil when he is hungry..he wakes up round 1am..ask for milk.. 3am cries for milk.. 5am wakes up and starts makin noises..if im lucky he will drool and make poopoo..

my RED..

he is six months now..

the first month was hard emotionaly and financially draining.. but God provides and mother-in-law's pays the bills.. so i owe my mom-in-law a big amount of money....thats why im teaching red to say "LOLA MOMMY" first.. you get what i mean..

now.. my reality is this...

life will be harder, i need to be strong for him, life will be harsh.. sooner or later i will see him get hurt..

he fell once.. i was calm but trembling.. compose but worried shit.. dont want to feel that again.. hope not sooner..

i will teach him not to be shy to open doors for women...teach him to respect them, listen to them, try to understand them and always compliment them..

he will not say "ilove you" to a woman..

but rather


'I adore you'

********






this i promise..
he will never feel unwanted, neglected and not loved..

why?

why cant i write when im happy?

why is it relative for me?..


sadness and writing..


i guess im happy today..

bye

a simple look

No one ever saw me like you do..All the things that I could up to I never knew just what a smile was worth...But your eyes say everything without a single word...'Cause there's somethin' in the way you look at me...It's as if my heart knows you're the missing piece....You made me believe that there's nothing in this world I can't be...I never know what you see...But there's somethin' in the way you look at me

dont know how or why I feel different in your eyes..All I know is it happens everytime

brooms,apples and a taxi driver

"it doesnt feel like its christmas"

i guess the taxi driver was right..i couldnt feel anything thats "christmasy"..


i hate this..

*************
when i was little. my family doesnt have much.. we were poor.. my dad worked for a printing press as an operator and my mom is just a plain housewife..sometimes sweep the floor of a furniture shop, just to have money to buy some food..(broke my heart when she told me that story) and she took care of us 3 very well.

the first one is named nikkie.. a hyper active kid..always running around and doesnt care if he fell and have bruises all over..he just want to play all day..but now he has a girlfriend whos head over heels for him..looks like an actres, a mestisa..

i still really dont get it why that happened..

im the middle child, i started talkin late.. my mom always see me sitting and starring at something.. they thought i was autistic or something..i think its was funny.. i just want to be quite i guess..they even tried letting me eat a part of a pig that doesnt quiet appealling to a kid..but it worked..

thats what they say..

the third is a girl who like hair clips..a pog nose kid..and alway wants to be carried..her name is colleen.. now she's 5'8"..

carrying a responsibility handed by no one and doin a fine job..

christmas was always fun to us back then..we can eat apples and ham all day, and have some chocolates after..i remember, we have this xmas tree made of strings and sometimes made of brooms or a tall indoor plant..decorated with candies and drawings i did..

christmas was really felt back then..just with the smell of apples and cold morning air..

but now.. a driver reminded me that i lost something important..

something im tryin to figure out what..

im sure red will make me see it..



I wouldn't say I'm mad about the rain
But we'll get through it anyway
We'll get back to the start again

hate, hurt and ignorance

PERSON 1:
do i really look like a bad person?.. i mean how can you judge me without knowing me...you dont know how i think, feel, hurt, work or even you dont know my name.. youve judge me beacause of my appearance..damn! man get a life.. F*CK YOU!

PERSON 2:
Right now man..i have so many problems.. work, life, finances, relationship and now please dont add up.. your friggin old enough to get your issues settle man.. you tell me you dont believe what your helper said, you tell me your better or dont want to stoop down to their level.. but your affected.. you spank your kid just to make a point.. what if i did the same thing to you and watch you bleed?!! will you see my point!? man.. your rent is free, we give up our bigger unit for you and your family, you paid for a car 60% less, you have a garage, your mom gave you money for your business and still you feel neglected! your the biggest loser i know..

PERSON 3:
DOnt assume please.. i talk to yu coz i like the conversation and your a good person.. intelligent but sometimes ignorant bout life, funny but sometimes a bitch, cute but can sometimes hurt and honest but sometimes dont speak up..i wouldnt mind if you say bye, life is like that but.. a one last conversation and a cup of cofee would be nice..

********
mike has been tryin to live his life without hurting and judging other people..his been through a lot.. so he is sorry if he looks like he doesnt care.. he actually does,

but..


they dont..

seen so many things

this inspire me, frustrate me and sadness really love this..


still need to get ideas on paper, im blocking out, saw many styles of illustrations and i lost mine in the process

*all images came from www.deviantart.com

want...

Move me. Where you want, when you want. I always want. Can we?

read this in a book..dont know what it means but i guess its just here to bother me..just thinking outloud..

pain leads to freedom..

yesterday was a bit crazy.. the creative is overloaded again (whats new anyway) but we didnt mind at all.. couldnt careless if we have deadlines!! whats important to us is output! for me particullarly.. i dont mind how you do your job.. i wont get in your face or even sit on it just to finish or make it nice, i dont mind if you sing, bark, dance or run around naked while workin, aslong as you deliver.. your good to me.. ok bad idea running around naked.. please dont get any ideas..

i was out early.. really havent feelin good lately bout myself.. dont know whats wrong but sadness creepin in.. havent seen her for a long time.. now my old friend sadness is showin her lovely face and tryin to sit beside me..sayin hello and remembering..but im ignoring her, just maybe..if i try harder to ignore her..she will leave me alone.. but damn fool, i said hi.. now she lettin herself in again..

pain leads to freedom..it’s everyone’s opinion ....not my own

i shouldnt be remebering pain..i have a selective memory.. all those sad feelling, all those
pain inside.. kept away in a box..


guess its too small for my pain..


but its always a good time to run around naked...

just a thought..


"dont forget to smile".. i always say that to someone..

but im ignoring her, just maybe..if i try harder to ignore her..she will leave me alone.. but damn fool, i said hi.. now she lettin herself in again..

maybe, i should open the door and...



smile at my pain..

i love animals!!!

went to the office as early as i can.. well i got in at 8:14 to be exact.. just wana be alone just for a few minutes but the boss got in after 15mins..atleast i finished some daily reading.. but lately i noticed that he's always early..hmmm.. maybe hes blogging or checking his friendster account or maybe just finishing or checking some downloads..porn? mp3? hmmm.. brokeback? YAY!

anyway got this email and it made my day, really made me smile... kinda a "smile after a hug".. that kind of shit..

im a junkie

Someone told me that i am a Vector Junkie..

what is a vector?

Vector graphics (also called geometric modeling or object-oriented graphics) is the use of geometrical primitives such as points, lines, curves, and polygons, which are all based upon mathematical equations to represent images in computer graphics. It is used by contrast to the term raster graphics, which is the representation of images as a collection of pixels (dots).

this are some of my vector art.. you tell me if i am..

Pretty in Pink

Beauty & Madness

Creech (colored)

Creech


be still

am i a junkie?

FUCK YOU!

Why do you hate him? Why did you make him leave? There’s nothing wrong with him..Why do you hate him? You want him crucified..Is it the way he looks Or the way he speaks his mind?

O there’s nothing wrong with him
But it’s you and your friends!

All i ever did was talk about her.. She’s done what she has to do.. Having to raise two kids without a father...You just stood by idly watched her suffer...You think you’re something special.. Boy you blew it! this conversations over..

there’s nothing wrong with her.. But it’s you and your friends
FUCK YOU and your friends!!

not now..

Friend: aren’t u going home?
Me: aren’t you too?
Me: in a while..
Friend: ya
Friend: i guess
Me: excited?
Friend: 'm still meeting my r&d manager
Friend: abt?
Me: my pretty rock..
Me: kidding..
Me: on your date.
Friend: oh
Friend: er
Friend: i'm feelin neutral
Friend: jus tired
Me: im thinkin, i wish right now im in a nice resto. dark and kinda cozy place with me drinking coffee and just try to relax and think about what i did today and will do tomorrow.. and order a large serving of angry sauce pasta!!! YUHUUU!!!
Friend: hhaha
Friend: i dont mind tat cept i dont wanna think of wat i did today or tom
Me: or have a conversation with someone..
Friend: ya
Me: or msn
Friend: tat would be better
Friend: go on a date na
Me: nah..
Friend:?
Me: i dont mind bein alone..
Me: im alone but not lonely
Friend: ah yes
Friend: tats a good thing
Me: a good company will do.. but no hearty talk
Me: dont want to be mushy this time of days
Friend: hahha
Friend: jus a good laugh
Me: yah.. that can make you pee
Friend: hahaha
Friend: ya
Friend: hey i'm off
Friend: damn tired
Me: ok..
Friend: see ya tom
Friend: tata
Me: tata

"i dont mind bein alone"

it would be great if its true but sometimes I mind... but I guess being alone is just trying to run away from the things I cannot comprehend..

"Friend: go on a date na"

i dont want to, that time.. but i guess fate has its way of makin me realized things... after the chat.. and old flame texted.. saying hi and askin how am i doin, i said im ok.. im really ok, i guess.. but you.. why you..

but not now please..

i don’t know what to make of you. The past weekend was just too overwhelming for me. With one moment of mutual boredom and a series of text messages, you were back in my life....

but not now please..

you were my insparation.. but dont be my distraction now..


You: mike? can i ask a favor?
Me: ok, what is it?
You: You busy this firday night?
Me: Hope not, want to sleep na..
You: can we meet?
Me: ah er.. where?
You: remember the old coffeeshop beside your office before?
Me: at agogo? is it still around? i thought its now a laundromat?..
You: hahaha still in business..
Me: i love their couches..anyway im glad their still around.. do you still call all the waiters George?
You: :) havent been there since we last saw each other.. never went there again but it would be nice to meet all the george again..
Me: ####? i really dont know my sched tomorrow but ill text you.. it would be nice to see you again..you still work out? :P
You: hahaha, why you asked? :) i still do..anyway please do text if your free or not.. ok?
Me: ok..no problem.. bye..
You: bye..


Some believe in rekindling old flames. Some say that once there’s a spark, the flame will never die out. I believe that old flames can be blown out just as easily as they can be rekindled. I know, because that’s what I did...

not now please... dont be my distraction..

still..

just asking and you could just answer..

what do u think is the difference between an "imagination" and a "dream" or "imagining something" versus "dreaming"?

ah..eh... er..

got an email from someone and she wrote:

When I’m with you, it feels as though we could spend infinity in conversation. Some people consider it such a boring activity, such a hopeless, dispassionate attempt at trying to connect on some fundamental level other than physical attraction. I disagree. I’ve fallen in love only with those I felt I could talk to, really talk to.

You have that way of sometimes listening to me, just listening, and yet sometimes you get so excited in trying to tell me something, a whole bunch of things. I used to think it was cliché, how they say you get lost in someone’s eyes but when we talk it constantly amazes me to find someone who actually can look me straight in the eye and not flinch at the person he might find within the carefree ways and easy laugh. You might find in me a Medusa and then turn to stone.
Sometimes when we talk, I am overwhelmingly aware of your presence though you might be sitting across me or even with a person in between us. I notice that you like to lean forward when we’re talking, or that you grip something within my proximity – the back of the chair, the thrown hasty sweater in between, sometimes your hand on the back of my head …

But the best part is when you laugh. Unexpectedly. Your whole being surprised in laughter – your eyes light up and you exhale your “ha’s” with so much feeling. Sometimes you’re able to explain yourself; sometimes it takes you a full minute to gain composure. I remember one of the times you made me laugh. You said something unintentionally funny, and the moment the words escaped your mouth, I was the one you took by surprise. I couldn’t stop laughing. I remember how pleased you look afterwards, and how, like a child who has tentatively discovered a successful experiment, you repeated yourself and waited for me to laugh again.

What you don’t know is how hard I work to make you laugh. How I mentally rehearse stories in my head hoping that one of them will make you smile, at the very least. How I sometimes pout and sulk when I see that it cheers you up immensely when you’re trying to rile me up. How some of your text messages can actually make me laugh out loud. How I probably would not put the phone down for the next ten minutes if I hear your deep, cheerful laugh over the line, if only in the hopes of hearing it again.

Our little jokes sound silly to other people …sometimes it feels like we made up our own imaginary place and only either of us holds a ticket to get in. Sometimes, even amidst a whole bunch of other people you say something inexplicably striking and unintelligible to them, something only I would know and understand. And you would give me that look and wait for an acknowledgement.

Despite our penchant for long conversations, we still miss out on a lot of things and I wonder if it happens to you, the way it does to me …sometimes it feels like we have so much to say to each other. But at the end of it, a word, a look and hours later and I realize...

I wasn’t able to say anything at all.



just
######


****************

am i suposed to react, reply, be happy, sad or scared? is life shitting on me now? or this is just a big practical joke tryin to make me feel high then slapped me on the face and spit on me..man please this is not funny..

but if not..

why the hell just now?!!

wish you told me this 3 years ago...

DAMN!

She Sells Flowers for a Piece of Paradise

I saw her. All 3 feet of her.

She looked so small and frail in her drenched dress, which wasn't even a dress but an oversized shirt for a man. But, she wasn't a man and the shirt didn't fit, so once ever so often, it would slip off of her shoulder, exposing her sunburned skin to the rain and the cold that seemed to be everywhere tonight.

She looked like she was drowning in the rain, kicking at the tiny river that formed along the edges of the road. She let her toes be tickled by the rushing rainwater. I saw them wiggle and I smiled. I couldn't tell if she was playing a game or if she needed to dip her feet in the cold water, because they were burned and raw from the hot pavement. I couldn't tell if the drops on her cheeks were rain or tears.

I hate storms and there I was inside my car--dry, warm, and comfortable. I wonder how much hatred she felt towards the pellets of rain that bit on her tender skin. If I were her, I would be filled with anger and my eyes would reflect that hardness and hopelessness no matter where I looked or who it was that was looking in. The rain can break down trees, hills and a person's spirit.

But... not hers. I saw youth and light in her eyes, as she tapped on my car window, peddling stringed sampaguitas. I couldn't stand the scent of the tiny white flowers, at least not cooped up inside my car, but I still fumbled for coins... one, two, three, four, five. Five pesos is all I could find. 10 cents to the rest of the world. I quickly pulled down the window and dropped the coins in her tiny fingers.

She tried giving me a lei or two, with this huge grin on her face. I said no, it's okay. Keep the flowers, sell them to someone else. The coins are for you. I didn't think her grin could get any bigger. Five pesos and I bought sunshine for a barefoot little child on the streets. Sunshine at 7 pm. So how come I was the one who felt warm inside?

When the light turned green, she waved at me. I heard a shrill "Bye!" from where she stood. My wallet fell open in my lap and I saw a hundred peso bill peeping out. If five pesos could buy a couple of sunbeams from a little girl's smile, how much could one hundred pesos have bought? Moonlight... stars... blue skies... full stomachs... slippers... a real dress... paradise. Maybe.

But, it was too late. She disappeared when I turned the corner and so did the sunshine inside of me. Nothing is ever enough.

Would I Trip If I Daydreamed All Day?

I shouldn’t be left alone with my thoughts for too long. It’s always a dangerous thing because sooner or later, your mind starts playing tricks on you. You get delusional. Scary. I don’t want to be that way anymore. On the other hand, it wouldn’t be wise to not be self-aware either. I guess the secret is to know when to stop brooding over things and come back up to the world of the living.

I can’t stay in the daydream, sleepwalking through my day for too long. There are too many painful reminders that we live in a broken world. Maybe that’s why I like sleeping. It’s the only time I’m able to forget. I never realized before I why I liked sleeping so much. In my dreams I get to fly. I get to love without feeling the need to be so guarded. Without having to deal with gravity and the fear of falling. I was watching Smallville last week and the episode had Clark and a dying Brian up on a hot-air balloon. Future Superman admitted he was scared of flying.

I’m not scared of flying. I’m scared of falling.

OUCH!!!!!

SHE SAID:
For once, can’t you say something that makes it easier to live in this world? Do you have to be like every other bleeding heart broken idealist on this side of the universe? You’re not even an original cynic. You’re a doppelganger of all the cynics that came before you. Singing the same songs. Feeding the same lines. It’s trite. You’re not even a good punchline. You say nothing that everyone doesn’t already know. You can’t stop yourself from speaking a cliché every three statements. People aren’t blind, if they don’t want to talk about another reason why the world is doomed, you know. You’re just uptight. So uptight that your spirit has a perpetual wedgie. That’s why you can’t find inner peace. Those butt cheeks are clenched so tightly; you can’t fit a penny for a thought, much less two cents.

They say insanity is repeating the same behavior over and over again and expecting different results. You survive by surrounding yourself with people who are just like you. Who do the same thing as you do, day in day out. If you can't find anyone, you exclude yourself. You wonder why nothing changes. How can things change when you don’t? Tired, subjugated, crushed and whipped. Hopeless. Helpless. Bogged down by the inability to fulfill your desires in spite of the world. And, you expect to inspire by that? To grow from flocking with the vultures? Feeding on the stench of death. Blaming circumstance for everything that’s wrong with the world. Refusing to recognize and give credit where it is due. Always punishment. Always blame. Always criticism. Aren't you tired of complaining?

And, you wonder why the world is so dark from where you stand. You can’t see the light from the day, when you’re hiding in the shadows of other people’s shame. The last thing the world needs is another washed up questioner with no answers. But they breed them like bunnies in this country. Must be all the hot air.

There’s more to life than what you’ve seen, if you care to get off the high horse and walk on your own two feet for once. Pity the beast of burden, for it to have to carry your lazy ass around. Any fool can point out what's wrong with a picture. Is that your goal in life? To become the village idiot?

I'm not saying be a Sesame Street Sunny Days happy-happy-joy-joy tweety bird optimist. That's bloody annoying!!

......................
I'm not making excuses. I'm making a decision. If I'm going to have pride, it's going to be pride in my ability to overcome, not my ability to runaway.

I'll stay..and face my labels

How Beauty and Love Are Meant to Be Incomplete and Crazy

found this while tryin to lose myself..
.......

She sat on a park bench in a faded navy blue coat, with bread crumbs on her lap and silver sunlight in her hair. Her shoes were worn and dusty, but her bearing was regal. She fed the birds. Everyday. On the same bench. Wearing the same shoes. And the same coat. With the same smile that was never quite on her lips but always glittering as magnificently in her eyes.

I watched her from where I sat sipping on too hot chocolate, within the slow moving shadows of spring trees waiting to be autumn. My sketchpad rested on my knee and a fountain trickled nearby. Occasionally, people would stand behind me to try and catch a glimpse of what I was drawing. But I wasn’t an artist. I was but a traveler. A brown child who loved to write in large notebooks with no lines. People are always disappointed when they see words instead of pictures. I never feel the need to apologize. They brought it upon themselves to expect that things will always be just so. Drawings on sketchpads, wine in glasses, suns on blue skies, cups on saucers. But, sometimes, wine turns and cups crack, you know. I licked my lips.

She looked half asleep, but her spine remained taut. If it weren’t for the twitching of her fingers to push large bread pieces into the mouth of pigeons and blackbirds, I would’ve thought that the bright green wooden loveseat was her coffin. She was radiant and peaceful. I coveted the tranquility that soaked her body. Is inner peace contagious? I wondered. I wondered, then I wandered. I wandered close to her. I circled once, twice, thrice; uncertain as to whether the park bench party was by invitation only. I had no wings and certainly no feathers. I only had firefly light in my eyes and crimson pollen in my veins.

“You will wear the tulips out walking around like that,” she said suddenly. Her english was broken and spiked with several bottles of European ancestry. I stopped a few feet away from her. A bird fluttered near my head. I didn’t move. I inhaled. She smelled of small white rocks, oil paintings and freshly picked daisies. The pigeons smelled like pigeons. Fowl.
She laboriously slid her rough stout hand on the space beside her, where the birds had not yet shit. This is the most manifest movement I’ve seen her make since I had begun watching her at quarter past four. “Sit,” she ordered.

I sat. I folded my hands on my lap and crossed my legs at the ankle. She had no crown, but the lines around her eyes were royal and her eyes were purple. “Show me what you wrote about me.”

She smiled. Some of her teeth were missing. Whatever wasn’t missing was yellow. Her breath smelled of strawberries and mint. I don’t know how she knew that my papers held prose and not landscapes. I don’t know how she knew that she was my muse. But, when you are in a land where people spoke a language you could barely comprehend and dusk lasted six hours, you do not question the knowledge or motive of pigeon ladies. You merely answered when they asked you why life has brought you to their bench.

I placed the pad on her lap and opened it to the page where my random scribblings began to take her in. I wasn’t sure how much of my words she could comprehend, but just as I begun to translate the hastily-written lines, she lifted her hand and made me stop. “I do not understand war, nor the trail of broken hearts, but english, I can understand.” I was properly chastised.
...
The silence that a city is capable of at dusk is magical. You can hear footsteps miles away and tears falling from across the river. A raven-haired beauty walked past us, as my old lady turned a page. Both of them were searching. One sought after a lover, the other, simply love. They both had tears in their eyes. Tears touch me when I see them fall. It’s like watching the moon giving birth to stars. You don’t know where it all comes from, but you know that they will not last forever. As I watched the nameless girl throw a coin into a fountain and make a wish that will be fulfilled only after she forgets, my old lady pulled an immaculate white kerchief from her breast and dabbed at the corner of her eyes. The other tears, she continued to let fall onto the pages of my heart.

"Are you crazy?" she asked.“Pardon?” I replied. Slightly taken aback.“Sane people can never speak of life this way. They are too aware of reality and logic. Too knowledgeable on how things are supposed to be or what changes must be made. They can use the same beautiful words, but it would be used the way the great poets have used it in the past. They would not know how to use the words to write themselves down. You must be insane.”

She continued to speak, but her heart overcame her tongue and she spoke words that I could only feel but not understand. And, I began to cry.

We spoke of the world and its people. We spoke of the lines on our hands and the scars on our skin. She talked of old age and I, of youth. Later, we thought of my old age and her youth. She held my hand until the world became dark and her husband came to take her away.
As they, hand in hand, began to go towards the twilight shaded arch that lead to home, my old woman turned around slowly and said to me, “Stop asking where or who love is, child. Ask when.”“When? But, when... When is love? What time is it?” I asked, desperately bewildered.My old woman’s old man nods softly, points to his wrist and touches his wife’s cheek. They walked away without answering my question.
...
I still have her kerchief. Where my tears still mingle with hers. I placed it in a bottle with a fallen feather from a black bird's wing and a grey pebble I found on the path to nowhere. When I cannot find myself, I take the bottle from the shelf and stare at the remnants of a moment that has been changing me everday until forever.

Only insanity is capable of beauty. Because, it is only that, which will allow a body to be used towards a senseless end. Beauty does not make sense. It is not achieved by prescribed achievable steps. It is mistakes and accidents and forgotten selves. The impermeable grounds of logic are neither broken nor desecrated. They are merely surpassed. The mind gets left behind. Beauty has no use for it.

The path towards finding beauty may require a little guidance from questions with answers, but to stay would mean ridding oneself of the desire to know. There is great beauty in looking for answers and finding nothing more but questions.

Love is an old lady who understands all of happiness and imperfection, but chooses not to understand anything that takes it away. I don't know what time love is, but I am young, and an unempty bottle reminds me to always ask When and simply leave How to love itself.

this left seems so right

last friday was kinda a unwinding state for me and kim.. we had dinner with a common friend..angela..it was her treat.. a long overdue bday treat..it was nice eat all you can dinner.. hahaha.. you should seen the smiles on our faces.. like kids in candy land.. first we had sushis..then tempuras and then we had what heart attacks made of..but hey its a free dinner.. couldnt pass the chance of havin a heart attack..but we made it without feelin or suffering from stroke or angina.. we had a nice talk over dinner.. we laugh, shared problems and the comon denaminator is we're all stressed out but we like what we doin.. so it doesnt matter..

afterdinner kim went home na and i and angela decided to have coffee and talk.. ive known her for 3 years now.. met her in the campaign of 04.. she handled the logistic and i the creative.. thank god our candidate won..she started talkin bout her college days and i just smiled and listened..i like watching her talk, like her smile.. she has this smile..only one smile, but its just enough to make you feel better...

she was talkin on and on.. couldnt believe that she can do that.. but i couldnt make her stop or change topic coz i saw that she was havin fun remembering.. she talked bout her love stories, bout boys fell head over heels for her, heartbreaks, havin friends and losing them..then i suddenly asked her if i were her classmate or the same age..and asked her to go out..will she say yes.. she just smiled and wink at me..i just laughed..i think we finished at around 4am..i kissedher on the cheecks and she kissed back..
she asked me if we could to that again,
i asked
"what the kiss?"
she said
"ahh no, the talk..it was nice..really appreciate it"
i said
"oh ok..no problem.. thanks for the dinner"

i walked her to her car remind her to be carefull..then she sudenly look at me and smile as if waiting for something..she was just standing there..her hand on her back like a little girl..i just smiled and pinched her red cheecks and said your cute..and i just walked away..

thinking..

rain

..it couldnt careless.. but the smell it brings.. so clean.. Everything now is clean.. listenin to a song, sung by a woman who doesnt care if shes famous or not.. She just wants to sing..dying of ectasy.. That will be the day.. i miss talkin to you.. or its just you im missing..

short drop sudden stop.

ok. bad news first.. last night red Fell off our bed and i was fuckingly i dono what word to use but i was shit scared.. dj cried and took red from her coz she was trembling.. red started cryinsfter holding him.. i was glad to hear him cry but the time i lay him on the bed he stopped and becomes pale .. i tried flicking his heel.. calling his name.. squizzing his hand so i decided to do mouth to mouth.. at first blow.. he opened his eyes and i was thankfull.. but i was constantly calling his name for him not to sleep..
then we rushed him to the hospital..i didnt have my shirt on and i was wearing no slippers when we got there.. but who cares.. our maid hand over me my shirt and slippers and askd me to relax coz she saw me trembling.. i was explainin what happend to the doctor.. she examined red and told us that his breathing is ok.. it was just shock that causes him to be pale or soemthing.. then i decided to go to a bigger hospital just to have a second opinion.. after goin there i started bein ok.. the pedia told us to see if theres any changes to red physically like vomitting or nose bleed.. we need to rush him and do a ctscan...

red is doin fine na.. bouth him a toy.. i think he liked it cos he was talkin to it..(baby talk) thank god.. felt like cryin that time but i cant.. so sssssshhhhhhhh

you tell me..

i want to come back.. i missed the group.. we work hard but party harder... group hug is free.. all are good vibes.. noone is pretending, we fight but we compromice, we settle.. all design are from the heart.. stress is constant.. deadlines are forced but we aknowledge each one...

but you tell me.. is it worth it?

beadsssss

a bad way to start the week...

i was hopoing for a quiet, organize and beating deadline week for me.. but it started me trying to find my accesories..and couldnt find them.. i feel naked.. i need my beads!!!!! F#$@#$K!!!!!AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!

im tryn to asses my self why a simple thing could ruin my day or hope not my week., well i guess its shows that my life is a mess right now.. im tryin to move forward but a new prob will set me 10 paces backward..i know its only beads but its my shield like jimi hendrix wont go to a gathering without his stratocaster or else he just stay on a corner and be a normal guy.. or salvador dali need his troops of crosseyed models and midgets when he go out on public, maybe not ebrytime, he just need to redirect attetion from him..well come to think of it.. im insecure,yah im right!!! im insecure of bein me..im not confindent of the way i look, the way i stand.. the way i talk, the way i walk, the way write and im not confident bout my work.. im the most insecure man in the world!!! and i cant type right!!!! @$%#@%!!!

i pray i wont get postal here..



sorry for the madness-shown

not in myself right now

gonna have a long day today.. havin some problems with work.. but not technicaly probs, the creative team is just havin an overload..i have a new GD,christine. she's kinda good actually, work fast, quiet.. i like that..good with colors and can follow directions very well..

jobs keepin me busy right now...but draining me..i cant even feel the pressure of deadlines.. but evry load i have is past due deadlines.. never been in this situation before.. DAMN!!


i cope.. i react... i adapt.. i deliver..

im losin myself..im still..want to be alone...im settling..

Goodbye my Lover

Did I disappoint you or let you down?

Should I be feeling guilty or let the judges frown?

'Cause I saw the end before we'd begun,

Yes I saw you were blinded and I knew I had won.

So I took what's mine by eternal right.

Took your soul out into the night.

It may be over but it won't stop there,

I am here for you if you'd only care.

You touched my heart you touched my soul.

You changed my life and all my goals.

And love is blind and that I knew when,

My heart was blinded by you.

I've kissed your lips and held your head.

Shared your dreams and shared your bed.

I know you well, I know your smell.I've been addicted to you.

Goodbye my lover.Goodbye my friend.

You have been the one.

You have been the one for me.

I am a dreamer but when I wake,

You can't break my spirit - it's my dreams you take.

And as you move on, remember me,

Remember us and all we used to beI've seen you cry,

I've seen you smile.I've watched you sleeping for a while.I

'd be the father of your child.I'd spend a lifetime with you.

I know your fears and you know mine.

We've had our doubts but now we're fine,

And I love you, I swear that's true.

I cannot live without you.

Goodbye my lover.Goodbye my friend.

You have been the one.

You have been the one for me.

And I still hold your hand in mine.

In mine when I'm asleep.

And I will bare my soul in time,

When I'm kneeling at your feet.

Goodbye my lover.Goodbye my friend.

You have been the one.

You have been the one for me.

I'm so hollow, baby,

I'm so hollow.I'm so, I'm so,

I'm so hollow.

You.. still..

I knew then that I was going to burn in hell. I've been in hell since.

You haunt me, night and day... You haunt me still... The memory of you resides underneath my skin... Even as I look at my reflection in the mirror, I see you. I burn. I still myself as my body craves for your touch... I am an addict, and you are my drug.


Forgive me if I cannot forget...

the irony of me

falling upward
my pleasure

my want
wishin i could
desire
thinking bout this
im the bug
...the black sheep

it moved me, made me smile, shocked me, made me realize, let me think and be happy again..

the irony of me

meet Red

i did this last nite.. an invite for red's baptism..

sorry

reply to a letter writen 6 years ago..



hi #######..

i remember this letter..well its been 6 years since i wrote this.. so many things happend na since then..we moved on na... did we? did i? i dono.. but those where happy times, ...i had had my happiest and the saddest times with you.. thats reality.. cant have everything..

you where there to listen to my jokes, my probs, my dreams and often share even my mood swings..i was comfortable with you..you where evrything then.. from a friend to a lover..can i still say it ba? hahahaha..anyway..im hoping this will not turn out to be a love letter but please dont blame me if this is a "remebering" letter or sumthing like that..

you like talaba, i hate it.. you know how to dance.. but you didnt show me..i like watching you sleep coz you lay on your tummy.. i remember i got the chills and you hug me so tight... you hate frogs and i despise coconut trees.. you love the beach, i sit beside you while we're there... you like tagaytay but i nearly lost my short there..you call me kogkog, i call you bochog..your skin smells like pear..i love your short hair.. love your armpit..hahaha..i like waking up beside you..we shared silence once..i love the trips to tagaytay..but hate goin home.. i made you cry many times but your still care for me..when i ask you if you love me you dont say anything... but the time when i heard it you say it.. it made me smile and thankd you..

but the thing that i dont remeber is the last time we saw each other and said our goodbyes..i really cant..and i thank god for that..

sorry for this.. cant help remembering


mike

thinking outloud

People count the Harry Potter movies as part of their favorites in Friendster. I say hogwash. The first two were complete rip-offs. And the third was merely mediocre despite all the interesting reviews of it being revolutionary from the earlier versions. Without a doubt, the books were great… the movies… well, let’s just say they’re expensive visual aids to the novels. On the brighter side though, is it just me or is Hermione getting hotter?

I know you’ve probably heard this more than once but let me reiterate. When you were in high school, you wished that you’d graduate so that you’d hit college and have the time of your life. When you entered college, you wished that it’d be all over so you could start working and earn mucho dinero to party like a madman in Mardi Gras. After you started your first job, you wished that the first two years would fly by so you could resign and get a better job in order to afford that nice-ass condo. The misconception is that things get better along the way when the truth is the complete opposite. Things get infinitely worse. This is not a pessimistic thought – it’s realistic. Ask anybody who’s older than you. Except your mom. She’ll probably say that ‘there’s a better future in store for you’ or something of similar sentiments. Moms are naturally good liars. So if she starts complimenting you on how good-looking you are and that the other kids just tease you because they’re jealous… start crying. But I digress. What I mean to say is that appreciate what you have now and do everything as crazy as the movies teach you… because you’re going to f*cking long for it when the time passes you by.

for our fathers

All parents damage their children. It cannot be helped. Youth, like pristine glass, absorbs the prints of its handlers. Some parents smudge, others crack, a few shatter childhoods completely into jagged little pieces, beyond repair. The hands that hold a child’s glass often commit the mistake that parents rarely recognize – the mistake of molding their children to an authoritarian replica of themselves; succumbing into a dream of reliving their blemished lives through their children; attempting to correct the errata of their past.

These hands fulfill their own dream not their child’s, leaving smudges and stains on the frail glass. That moment when my father told me, in the sweetest, nicest way… that I wasn’t good enough, I felt a crack mark on my glass. It had always been painful falling behind his expectations. And though failures make me strong, one day those little cracks will break me and I know so. All those times I felt he wished he didn’t have me as a child made me firm yet brittle, leaving me with an unconscious fear of failure. I want him to love me. I cannot fail.
The way he constantly compares me to anyone who is better smothers me, to a point I could no longer feel myself, seeing myself only with respect to others, compared to others, giving up a part of me.

I never really had an exact thought of why I wanted to be like my father. All I knew was that I needed to comply with his standards. I grew up with the notion that the purpose of sons was to be what their fathers were, or better. I wanted to be able to do the things my father does even though the thought of it didn’t make much sense. To a son, it doesn’t need sense. It is the unspoken agreement. Even before he can devote himself to God or to any woman, a boy will always devote himself to his father, even foolishly, even beyond explanation. Fathers and sons often resort to the unspoken agreement. They seem to do everything internally, unlike mothers and daughters who do girl-talks. A tap in the shoulder is often capable of making more sense than a 1000-word essay possibly will. A tap in the shoulder is capable of saying it all – approval, appreciation, concern, love.

One night, an unexpected spontaneous profound conversation with my dad came about. It suddenly made sense. It wasn’t that my father didn’t love me as much as I wish he did. It was that He had a different way of doing it. He was always pushing me to be the best I could be, sometimes I stumbled, often I didn’t. The problem of men is that they seldom communicate. They often feel that they are “supposed to” - supposed to know, supposed understand, supposed to be capable, supposed to be able. Men think too much, assume too much, expect too much. They just don’t know it. Parents rarely let go of their children, so children let go of them. They move on. They move away. Having difficulty accepting the fact that their children are already grown-ups, fathers often arrive in a conflict with their sons, afraid of the concept of them losing control over their sons’ actions – losing grip of the glass.

Whenever my dad distanced himself, he took a part of me; a surge of coldness detached a part of me from my self. I couldn’t feel the same warmth I felt with my mom. I wasn’t supposed to, I think. Maybe my dad felt I wasn’t supposed to. My dad is a great person, but wasn’t an excellent teacher. He knew me, but didn’t understand me. He was impatient. Yet, I am what I am because I wanted to be like him. I love my dad, I just don’t show it. He knows it though, I think. Most sons don’t show it, not until after it’s too late. Sons don’t say “I love you.” to their fathers, we’re not expected to. Sadly, time will probably come when I’ll look back to the time when I could still, at least, see His love though I couldn’t feel it the way I needed to.

A father’s life is a life of sacrifice. I understand. That life ends, but its love doesn’t. It passes to the next generation, and to the next, and to the next in a cyclic process. That is why fathers want to have sons, so they could live forever, so they could be remembered through their children… and they are! A fatherly love is never lost.

However, lost love is still love. It takes a different form, that’s all. You can’t see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move them around the dance floor. But when those senses weaken, another heightens - memory. Memory becomes your partner. You nurture it. You hold it. You dance with it.

When the inevitable comes, I hope all of us have enough memories to supply that utmost fatherly love. Until then, I’ll keep on pretending. I’ll keep on living a life full of a son’s suppressed love.

sorry for the sadness shown

...

...And while I was singing in my sleep and missing you so badly (and in between praising our good Lord for the order amidst chaos in my life), I knew for certain that I was a hopeless case. I can never rebound from this quagmire I’m at...I could not move on...I could not even step forward my right foot.

It’s hard to be in love simply because we fell out of love already... And like the song I keep singing in my sleep, I wait in vain for the time when we will both realize that what we had before was something really special – no force on earth could destroy it...no boundaries it could not cross, no feeling much stronger than it could untangle what we had in our hearts. Because I knew, and I hope you knew it too, that what we had was love – love pure of innocence.... But when distance drifted us apart, we conspicuously stopped caring for each other, dropping each other like a hot potato.

How come? Was it the overwhelming space? Or was it the choking distance? Or perhaps the numbing loneliness? Whatever the case, we learned, through time and distance, to stop caring. ..“People change,” you said. “Yeah,” I replied. “There is nothing we can do about this,” you said. “So this is it?” I asked her. “Yes, I guess this is it,” she said. And just like that, our past dissolved in an instant, like salt melting on a glass of water. Distance swallowed what were between us, time erased what we shared before, and both of us were willing victims of our own folly.


Now, I'm stuck in my bed, missing you, singing in my sleep, waiting in vain

crazy little thing called life

nearly eight in the morning here.. got up early..coz i wana start my day without any stress goin here.. EDSA is now a big carpark.. "only in the phil".
we had a long weekend coz of the storm..powerlines where down.. we had a 12hour blockout.. luzon wide,some had 5 days without electricity and water and phonelines and mobile signal AAARRRRHHHHH!!!!. Take away everything but not the mobile!!

.anyway dont wana talk bout it..same old shit happens here but the good thing is that we smile and joke about what happened and whats happening around us..i dont know if were in a denial stage or just plain old crazy people but i think its good.. we cry at first but we laugh at everything..

that long week end was not a pleasant one..been thinkin bout everything.. work, red, life, my mom, my eye, work, my fridge, my computer, my check, my life after this and work..

red is growing so fast na, i noticed that some of his clothes doesnt fit na.. arrgggg! got to buy new clothes again..and i noticed that he listens to me everytime im talkin.. and i made up a story bout him and his doll named mr. tofu. "the adventures of sleepy red and mr tofu the bear." ok i know its lame but hey im an artist not a writer.. anyway.. i think he liked it.. well the original title was "the small fish and the sleepy whale" and i made up some characters na.. theres an uncle octupus, a friendly plancton, a scary gold fish, a gay shark,a afro crazy sea weed(he smokes weed), a bully herring, a fat old nice milkfish and a girrafe... yah a giraffe..

ok about work..this is the first time that im behind schedule.. ARRGGGG.. and now its affecting my way of thinking or something like that..i thought it will be easy but hell no!! i did 10 or more design for each label and still none where chosen..its hard to get or to make that thing have its own character while im losing mine..im crying for help now!!.. but i know i can do this!! AJA!!
I CAN MOVE MOUNTAINS!!!!*sound effects play: thunder & lightning*

Words with God

Q: God?
A: Yes.
Q: Yes?
A: Yes.
Q: Yes what?
A: Yes, this is God.
Q: God…God who?
A: The God…in heaven…the one you wanted to talk to.
Q: I just said “God?” and you answered.
A: That’s because I’m God.
Q: Oh, okay. Hi God.
A: Hello.
Q: God, why is the sky blue?
A: Because I made it that way.
Q: Why?
A: So that you would ask that question.
Q: Why?
A: So that I could show you that I can do what I want.
Q: Oh…
A: Don’t ask why again.
Q: Why…
A: Don’t
Q: Oh, sorry
A: No you’re not.
Q: Really?
A: I can’t lie.
Q: Really?
A: Oh you of little faith.
Q: Sorry…did I mean it that time?
A: You should be able to tell me that.
Q: Well…I think I did.
A: Wrong.
Q: Wrong what?
A: You weren’t sorry.
Q: Who are you to tell what I am or am not feeling?
A: God.
Q: Oh yeah…sorry…I meant it that time!
A: No you didn’t.
Q: Well maybe not by your standards but I did.
A: Aren’t my standards the ones that count?
Q: I don’t know…you tell me.
A: No.
Q: Why?
A: Because I’m God.
Q: Oh…Hey God? About that…thing…
A: What about it?
Q: You know what about it. Remember? You’re the all knowing God.
A: Yes. But.
Q: But what?
A: Do I have to finish that sentence?
Q: So…if I talk to you for a while will you let me have it?
A: Does it have to be a compromise?
Q: Between what and what?
A: Give and take.
Q: Isn’t that your forte?
A: You’ll never understand where I’m going.
Q: But…aren’t you already there?
A: Very perceptive… What are you thinking?
Q: I was thinking that…wait, you’re God, don’t you know?
A: Yes, but I was trying to start conversation.
Q: I thought so! I got you God.
A: Always and forever.
Q: Really?
A: Do I lie?
Q: No…Then you have to do what I say?
A: No, why would I do that.
Q: Because you said that I had you! C’mon God…lets play even here…
A: But we’re not.
Q: Never mind…God?
A: Yes.
Q: Yes what?
A: Yes, I’m listening, and yes, I do have a sense of humor.
Q: Really?
A: Yes, have you looked in the mirror lately?
Q: Yes.
A: Okay.
Q: Hey…
A: How about you just understand that my sense of humor is beyond you.
Q: Aren’t you all beyond me?
A: No, I’m behind you too.
Q: So you’re beyond me and ahead of me.
A: Yes, I’m everywhere.
Q: Isn’t that cosmic humanism?
A: No that’s omnipresence.
Q: Oh…what’s omnipresence?
A: Me
Q: Okay. God? About last night, like I said this morning, I’m really sorry.
A: Yesterday?
Q: Yeah remember? The…you know party…and that girl…
A: What party? What girl?
Q: God. You’re God, you know everything…remember? Over on 5th…I was mad at my parents?
A: I don’t remember anything.
Q: Oh, thanks.
A: That’s what we’re here for.
Q: Okay. God?
A: Yes.
Q: Yes?
A: Yes.
Q: So, you knew what I was going to say?
A: Yes.
Q: Always do?
A: Always have.
Q: Cool.
A: Yes.
Q: Hey God?
A: Yes?
Q: Are you real?

What about Love?

I was on a jeep goin to work yesterday when the song “What about Love” blared on the radio. I have heard this song numerous times before now but I never really listened to it until earlier.
What about love? It’s probably the most overused and overstated word in the dictionary. There are far too many definitions, explanations and interpretations of it from people of different walks of life from a scientific view, a cultural view and a religious view.

The person who invented this word must me laughing his/her/their head off wherever he/she/they maybe, be it in heaven, hell or somewhere in between because his/her/their probably simple meaning of love became all this complicated. For all we know, whoever came up with this word may not even mean it the way we want it to mean.

Yet even with all this information, we still cannot capture its true essence. So what about it?
Love. We kill for it and because of it. We die for it and because of it. We cry, laugh, rejoice, share, and go the distance to get it, to feel it, to have it, to keep it.

I met someone, we shared a connection. Three months after, we moved in together. After 5 years, she ended it. She said she doesn’t love me the same way anymore.

So what about love? You tell me.

I love the song but I hate the feeling that surfaces when I hear it.

for you to answer..

Is love simply a feeling, an emotion? Emotions are but momentary projections of the psyche - unsure and unreliable, fleeting like a candle-flame, shifting like the sand on the shore. Emotions are too abstract, too vague, sometimes even misleading (that it isn’t a wonder why a rocket scientist would never make a rational conclusion on a mere “feeling”). Am I to believe that THAT is all love is – a temporary projection of the mind? Besides, if it were just the feeling that men and women are after, then why aren’t love-hungry individuals satisfied by simply upping their endorphin levels by wolfing down heaps of chocolate? If love were just a “feeling”, then it is an absolute stupidity to make an important decision (or a lifelong commitment, at that) based on something so unstable. What happens when the endorphins take a leave? Is love gone when the sparkling feelings wane? Something so valued and sought-after as love shouldn’t be as ephemeral as an orange popsicle.

For that matter, why is love so desired?

Spent a day in prison

Last week was an average week for me.. didn’t do anything much...but last Saturday was so different..my Father-in-law asked me a week ago if I could come with him to the National Bilibid Prison and I said yes without thinking..i just thought that it’ll be a good experience and I would really want to see the prison.. but Saturday morning I woke up and felt that im starting to get scared.. I was thinking what if a riot or a man desperate to get out held us and kill us.. yay!! I was the youngest of the group all are old..lol anyway on the way there we were laughing coz of the conversation of my dad and his friend.. I had a great time.. I was laughing hard.. didn’t talk much..i just listened to them.. then when we got there.. it was about quarter before nine.. it was hot.. we walked a few meters to the guard house to sign our waver and get checked in…I left my fone and the spare guitar string coz its not allowed inside..they asked us that we only bring not more than a thousand pesos inside..good for me..only have 400. and some few change.hehehehe..ok the guard checked my guitar and shaked the hell out of it..after that he checked me.. then he let me pass... a second guard was checking things again…called us one by one then stamped something on my arm then asked me if the guitar was cleared by the first guard and I said yes..

While I was walking towards the gate.. I was fixing my things then suddenly I felt that no one was beside me.. I said HOLY S$%^^%#!! I was walking towards the gate alone!!.. and it is the MAXIMUM SECURITY!!! where the murderers, rapist, arsonist and all the things that nightmare’s are made of..well atleast my nightmare.. I was walking slowly into the gate.. I just prayed the whole time and I just saw blurred faces..i knew everybody was looking at me.. I think there where a dozen prisoners sitting beside the gate.. and one guy standing, he was holding a big stick.. he was scary.. I only saw his tattoos and his orange shirt.. I couldn’t even look at their faces.. I wish I could but I was too damn scared…. I felt I was a kid.. want to run away but I know I cant be harm…and then something happened.. I was so surprised..a skinny guy walked beside me with a smile on his face carrying a plastic bag with something in it I think it was a loaf of bread ..wearin the same orange shirt, also with tattoos.. I thought he’ll punch me or asked me for a cigarette...but he asked me if im ok and asked if he could carry my guitar....then I just smiled and asked him to walked beside me.. honestly I really felt safe that time..i felt safe with a person who murdered a human being and was sentenced to die..my mind was blank.. while this guy was tryin to tell me his story.. telling me his life.. I was just looking down..I wish I listened but I didn’t..the only thing I did was to asked his name and asked the reason why he is inside…

ARIEL.. that’s his name.. couldn’t remember his face though…but his smile was different..i haven’t seen someone smile that way..well beside that hes missing four front teeth..i think he was happy to see me.mmmm..he walked with me until we got to the school.. an old building. Rusty roof... it was so hot.. Windows with bars.. a blackboard… posters of animals and dead presidents… the alphabet is pasted above the board..its like a grade school class room…but this time I saw faces.. faces that would smile..staring at you with blank faces.. no emotions…not even hatred.. felt weird at first coz you know someone is starring at you….we setup and started to sing.. dad played the guitar.. thank God.. coz I know I cant play in that situation coz I was terrified and anxious coz we're in a contained room.. i haven’t seen any armed guards and the room is filled with prisoners.. nearly hundred detainees of the maximum security.. so we sung praise songs and after that we sat at the corner of the room.. had a good view of the people inside.. now I started looking at them.. Looking at their faces while listening to someone preaching.. the talk was about an hour or so but they listened without getting sleepy or what.. they just sat there.. listening.. sometimes they laugh at the joke of the speaker..when I heard their laugh I started to get comfortable..Some were wearing shorts, some are wearing Sunday clothes but they are faded or haven’t been washed with soap for a long time.. i saw a man wearing a pair of faded leather shoes with holes..i could see his socks from the soles of his shoes.. he talked to me.. he also told me his story. .but I couldn’t understand coz he was talking like he was whispering.. but I tried my best to listen.. he told me that it was his second time to be in prison.. he killed someone.. he jokingly told me that the first time he got out of prison, his wife got married a day before he was released.. after that he gave me a letter asking me if I could send it to his mother.. then I said yes.. he shook my hand and said thank you..i was having second thought if I’m allowed to do that.. but I want to help him so I decided to keep his mail and send it..i really felt God’s presence.. i didn’t felt that im helping them to see and to know Jesus Christ as their savior but their the ones who’s helping me to see God more clearly.. to see my blessings.. to see my life is full of things that I’ve been neglecting all my life…like Ariel, the guy who walked with me..

After the Christian Life Program he went to me and gave me a piece of paper.. then I read what was written on it..” toothpaste, toothbrush and soap” I was so surprise.. i asked what am I gonna do with this.. he asked me for some change for him to buy this things.. i wasn’t surprise that he was asking for money but I was surprise coz he doesn’t have this things. me and my wife have 5 toothbrushes(WEIRD) and lots of shampoos and soaps in our home. I said ok but I asked him if I can give him the money at the gate coz many prisoner went to us coz they saw us buying stuff.. anyway after that the organizers of the CLP thank us and we prayed before going out.. we went through the same way as we did.. but the prisoners are now at their cell.. its 12:00 pm.. lunch time.. Ariel is still walking with me.. now he’s trying to show me the place.. he was happy bein my personal tour guide.. he told me that there’s a place where inmates playing basketball but they don’t have any ball.. I said HUH?? Then he laugh.. I know that there’s air guitar but air basketball? It's true they even have a referee..he said.. Their the ones who suffered a mental collapsed or breakdown.. People who started talking to themselves.. People who got their freedom for having their own world.. Ariel pointed to a building and told it’s the Death row building.... all inmates there are sentenced to die of lethal injection.. a large blue building. I think it’s a two-story building with TV antennas sticking out. Weird. Anyway before we got to the gate I shook Ariel’s hand with the money in my hand and I thank him. I felt relieve, sad, happy, miss my wife and felt so much bless by God coz I know I can go out from that hell, eat a descent lunch.. Take a bath anytime using soap.. But that hell thought me to be thankful for the little things I have. It helped me realized that life moves on even we don’t have money in our pocket.. Life moves on even we have problems at work.. Or even we don’t have any work.. From that hell I saw God.. Or even the devil himself.. But God’s grace is surely there that time.. I felt his presence in the company of murderers, rapist and the people who is just waiting to be executed for their crimes.

You have never really lived until you've done something for someone who can never repay you.

coping

so, at the moment of quiet i erase all these thoughts and hope that should i put them to words that i be understood...that this is how i cope...this is how i could learn to accept...that quiet is not the enemy...it is not a stranger...it is not a traitor...but is a guiding friend..

hurting

the thought of being unwanted, unneeded and inadequate pushes against my chest like i've been shot...i visualize myself literally falling from the shot, not feeling the gunwound but certain that these are my last moments on earth...i visualize myself with questioning eyes..

this is my soul.. and for sadness will be shown..

most of us need the eggs.

I thought of that old joke, you know, this, this guy goes to a psychiatrist and says, Doc, uh, my brother's crazy, he thinks he's a chicken and, uh, the doctor says, well why don't you turn him in? And the guy says, I would, but I need the eggs. Well, I guess that's pretty much how I feel about relationships. You know, they're totally irrational and crazy and absurd and, but uh, I guess we keep going through it... because... most of us need the eggs.