Archive for June, 2010

Hold Your Own

June 29, 2010

Amid a silent ruckus about mistakenly defining character, I realize that no matter how valiant your effort to escape the box people have put you in, they would always find a way to get you back there. These people have their own way with falsehood and perversion—them typecasting you is proof already of such assumption. You to them can be summed in numbers or be the antagonist in their twisted stories, even be the subject of smileys keyed in in disgust and discredit. And they fail to recognize this because their sight is so short they can’t even see their own shit. The trick here is to live life as if it were your own, which should actually be the case in the first place. No need to break free. After all, only you can tell if that box ever existed or not. And you don’t need to prove anything since not doing so will prove something more valuable than your attempt to prove.



June 26, 2010

Are you a mod or a rocker? Me, neither. I’m a mocker. Lennon says happiness is a warm gun. I say happen-ness is a worm gone.

Looks Good, Says Something

June 26, 2010

Camz and I recently bought rice necklaces. Mine has a red-tinted teardrop for a pendant. It bears a grain with my second name, Jose, written on it.

I actually hated that name when I was a kid since it rings of outdatedness. It’s as if that moniker should have been forever placed in the attic of names with the rest of its peers: Maria, Juan, Teodora, Pablo, Quirino, and so on. It’s just when I matured that I came to realize how interesting it is (the same way Joey‘s first name, which is Dalisay, is): that it is very Filipino and stands out among foreign-sounding names: Jason, Paul, Mary, Sam, Richard, and so on.

Taken as a whole, this necklace of mine quietly yet passionately burns as a metaphor of identity—a radiant droplet of blood with my name submerged in it.

Flights of Fancy

June 23, 2010

I’ve always been fascinated with angel wings. And I don’t know why I keep on alluding to stars, birds, and flight in general when I subconsciously write. Or think. Am I that ambitious? So ambitious that I keep the sprawling sky and these things we associate it with in small personal recollections even I don’t understand?