The road is full of impatient people.

Last night, I was walking along the highway going to the university near our subdivision. Everyone who knows how to drive knows that a double yellow line in the middle of the road means ‘NO OVERTAKING.’ I have learned that before I even learned how to drive. I have no watch or a phone at that time but the cars on the road suggest that it is about dinner time and everyone’s tired and hungry and all they want now is just to get home as soon as possible. People nowadays, are always in a hurry. They don’t care about violating a law, like overtaking when overtaking isn’t allowed, just as they violate any other laws, just as long as they do what they have to do… hurry up and get to the next moment.

I used to believe about making moments right and not waiting for the right moment. My high school motto was ‘Don’t wait for the right moment, make the moment right.’ But I realized that there really is such a thing as a right moment or a right time. There’s a right time to overtake a car so that accidents won’t happen. There’s a right time to have sex because you’ll know better in time, and yes, also to avoid accident. There’s a right time to bear a child so that your genes are perfectly passed on. There’s a right time to feed a child solid foods so that the child won’t choke. There’s a right time to speak of truth or of lies, so that it is easier or less hurting to accept and believe. There’s a right time to reap a fruit from a tree so that its taste is as perfect as can be. There’s a right time to stop waiting so that you can focus to attend to more important things in your life.

There are moments in life that you cannot have control over. You may, but the outcome won’t be as good as when you have just waited for the right time. If we can only be patient and learn that if we wait for that right time, we can have things at its best. And hopefully, there will be less accidents on the road.

By the moonlight

By the moonlight I see the lines

Too familiar that it reminds me

Of things I’ve had and lost

Of moments I’ve lived and forgotten

Of days I will never relive

Of nights of silence and noise

When all is gone and nothing is left

But the mind trying to see

Many has been lost

Many has been shattered

Just by not looking back

And seeing things from afar

By looking too far ahead

been blind to what is near

By looking too far ahead

been blind to see me

By the moonlight I surrender

By the moonlight I asked again

The nights I missed

The words I failed to hear

The touches I failed to feel

The beauty I failed to see

Why not? It's Sunday.

Today, i woke up, ate breakfast, went to church, walked about a kilometer to get to Starbucks, had a tall latte, sit there for three hours staring at nowhere, let my mind wander to the past and the future, and intentionally did not attend to the here and now, walked the same distance to get home, brushed my teeth, watched a movie while eating wheat bread, pichi pichi, craisins and coffee, stayed idly in bed for about half an hour until i fell asleep, got woken up after i don't know how long and realized that today, i wasn't alone.

There's a lot in not knowing

At exactly 9:51 pm, I dialed his number on my phone but decided it was a bit early; they may have just landed and ended it before it even rang. “I’ll call later,” I said to myself. At 9:54, my phone rang, he was calling me. He may not have called me right after landing, but he did right after they got outside the airport, and I can only wish I was there waiting for them as I talk to him over the phone. Looking at the picture on my phone’s screen, I was smiling when I pressed ’answer’. My sweet voice, as he said, cannot hide the truth of missing him, of longing for this time when I can finally talk to him, though it had only been four days since the last time we heard each other’s voice. The call lasted only for three minutes. And that was, by far, the most (insert adjective) three-minute phone call of my life. I can’t insert a word that would perfectly capture the way I would describe it, or how I felt. Just before those three minutes ended, I go t the chance to hear everyone else’s voice, most especially Enzo. Then they said goodbye. And so did I.

I don’t know how a call would end so happily that it made me almost cry. And as I write this, I am trying so hard to keep my eyes open so that tears won’t fall out. And I couldn’t be more convinced that I have already found the love of my life.

Not so lucky day

I woke up at 6am today beside my boyfriend, feeling the heat of his body against mine. I placed my hand on his forehead to feel if he still has fever and the unusually high temperature affirmed. I got out of bed to prepare him breakfast – oatmeal, as he requested but ended up eating it myself because he “doesn’t want to make me his mother” and he prepared his own oatmeal/coffee and bread for breakfast. After finishing my cup of oatmeal, I took a bath and prepared my things and myself for school. I bid my goodbyes first to Ate Dindi, who was then going to take a bath, then to the married couple Ate Nica and Marvin, then to the cutest little boy on Earth, Enzo and lastly, to my dearest beb. I have made my goodbye kisses (yes, with es) to him intentionally noticeable and perceptible to who’s inside the apartment, especially to Enzo, who then went outside as I walked away from the screen door and said, “Gah, gah.. kiss.”(Gah is Girl in adult human language) I run back to him and kissed him goodbye.

The new shoes I am wearing starts to hurt my right foot and I can’t walk as fast as before. Good thing, despite the slow walking, I got in the train just a bit past 8. As I walked out of the elevator at Buendia Station, the train was already there, doors open and so I rushed in. The train was full today, unlike the days before. Getting off at Quezon Avenue Station, the line of people taking the train going up north was unbelievably long, from the security check to the ground floor, which was two return stairs high. I wonder if there’s a bus strike today. I had a hard time going down the stairs as my shoes slips off my right foot, but then I managed to get on to the UP Campus jeep and arrive at my class earlier than my professor.

As I sit right smack at the center isle at the back most portion of the room, my professor came in, greeted us ‘Hello’, turned on the light and put out the chalk, readings and the seat arrangement from his black back pack bag. He then looked at me, seemingly amazed and confused at the same time about this student right in front of him and said in his gay voice, “I didn’t see you last time,” to which I replied, “I was absent last time.” I didn’t see it coming, him noticing someone in his class is absent given his unstoppable train of thoughts expressed with an overly unmanly conviction.

When I got to the library after my second class, the librarian lectured me again about returning reserve books properly. Apparently, my senility attacked me again last Friday when I left the book I borrowed from the reserve section on the table, which means they have my ID. It was the second time I have done that and I was told so and also about my liability just in case it got lost or something. I apologized, and now I am writing this blog.

I just received a text message from my beb saying that he’s feeling better now and eating honey oat loaf. The day has not ended yet, maybe it’s not an unlucky one at all… I still have 12 hours to go.

Awake

This morning as my head comfortably lies on his shoulder, I said to myself, “There’s no other place in this world I’d rather be. I can stay in these arms forever; this is where I want to be for the rest of my life.”

I found the perfect place on Earth without even going so far, without travelling to many places. I woke up this morning feeling happy with my life, with what I have right now and more importantly, with whom I am with. That is not the first time I felt that. I felt that long before I realized how perfectly we complement each other, and how perfect the feeling of being merely beside him is. This morning I felt like there’s nothing more missing in my life. I got all I need right beside me. How many people on earth can be this happy?

A second chance

...i wasn't expecting at all.

Yes. I still have the chance to pull my transcript out of disappointments and regrets. I have already accepted the defeat and now here it is following me... a second chance. It feels like I didn't fail at all because I haven't actually failed and I am only hoping this time, I won't.

Second chances. How wonderful they are if they come unexpectedly. I ain't gonna throw it. I should do better, like i told my sister the day i accepted defeat.

No matter what happens, this will be a battle won simply because I chose to fight.

Criminal offense: Shoplifting

‘Toot, toot, toot…’ as we passed by the detector at the doorway, it made an alarming sound and our worlds just crushed down to pieces at that very moment. 14 books in a big pink floral-printed bag I was carrying – all shoplifted.

And there I was, in front of a security guard accusing me of being the ‘brain’ of such offense, as my friend weeps at the corner. “Wag kang aamin,” that was the rule of shoplifting once you get caught so I showed no intention of giving in and pleading guilty of the offense. But soon enough, I realized that there is no other way to end the accusation but for us to admit the sin we have committed, and so we have pleaded guilty. After I have paid for all the books, and without them having to blotter us (thanks to our charm and good acting skills), they let us go.

At sweet 16, some girls had their first real kiss, some had excelled on math or physics, some had decided the course their taking in college, some had their first date, and some had their hearts broken for the first time. And I? I had my first (and hopefully the last) mug shot.

Souls Renewed

So tonight, we’ve just jeopardized our clean NBI record for 14 shoplifted books. Our worlds had crushed down to pieces and we don’t know how to face tomorrow, knowing that our mug shots could be posted in any place where people are free to judge us.

We decided to clear our minds, wake up from what seems to be a nightmare that had just happened and to just let it all out. Around 9 in the evening, we set out for Baguio riding her parent’s van. They were out of town that day so she was kind of free to do just whatever she wants and go wherever she wants.

The road was dark, empty and quiet. And so were our souls.

I don’t remember much about what we’ve done along the road but I remember we were listening to the radio, singing along with the songs as if we were happy that we’ve escaped the decoy of a bad criminal record. We talked about what had just happened and swore that we will never commit such a crime again.

We arrived at SM Baguio around midnight and the place, like the road was dark, empty and quiet. It’s as if a reminder of the present condition of our souls. We went to Burnham Park and we took pictures of us with the sunflowers. And since there was pretty much nothing else to do, we left after an hour with our souls renewed and the lessons learned.

We both know that the days after that, the world may be harsher and crueler to us. But we also know that we are better persons, made right by mistakes and that no matter how hard it is to face tomorrow, we have still have the guts to carry on for the days to come.

We both know, from the very start, that what we were doing was wrong. So what made us do it anyway? Go figure.

“Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new.”

‘Toot, toot, toot…’ as we passed by the detector at the doorway, it rang and our worlds just crushed down to pieces at that very moment. 14 books in a big pink floral-printed bag I was carrying – all shoplifted.

And there I was, in front of a security guard accusing me of being the ‘brain’ of such offense, as my friend weeps at the corner. “Wag kang aamin,” that was the rule of shoplifting once you get caught so I showed no intention of giving in and pleading guilty of the offense. But soon enough, I realized that there is no other way to end the accusation but for us to admit the sin we have committed, and so we have pleaded guilty. After I have paid for all the books, and without them having to blotter us (thanks to our charm and acting skills), they let us go.

Before that, we have already shoplifted at the same bookstore, at stalls along the middle of the mall, at beauty shops and a number of clothing shops in our place. That was the first and the last time we got caught. As for me, that was a wake-up call.

At sweet 16, some girls had their first real kiss, some had excelled on math or physics, some had decided the course their taking in college, some had their first date, and some had their hearts broken for the first time. And I? I had my first (and hopefully the last) mug shot.

Military Offense: Not Wearing Proper Uniform

In senior high school, we had a military training course called CAT and I forgot what it stands for. Anyway, we were required to be in proper uniform (fatigue pants, black shoes and socks, beret hat, white shirt printed with the CAT logo and the name of our school, black belt, white handkerchief and bun hair polished with gel) on school grounds at the hour of 1300 ‘til 1800, when the training session ends. We were required to stop, shout for signal and salute all officers that come our way, stand straight on both feet, sit straight, address the officers with Ma’am/Sir, be polite and to quit making faces and smiling.

One day, my closest friend in high school, Mae, and I were inside the classroom and was too lazy to attend CAT that afternoon. We spent lunch time inside the classroom singing in front of the electric fan and just being totally uninterested about the whole CAT thing, not minding that military hours is nearing and that officers may arrive at any time.



So there, at 1300 inside the classroom, our classmates start arriving. Good thing there were no officers yet and these ‘civilians’ have warned us of the officers that may soon enter the room. The first officer to enter the room? The Corps Commander, the highest official in CAT. Mae and I immediately run for the door and hid behind it. When the Corps Commander passed the door, we scram like little mice avoiding the big cat.

I don’t know about the other batches, but we were the first and only students who've done that in our batch. And we’ve done it just once. I am not proud that I have done something that only a few people could do because they are scared of punishment or demerit. I am not proud that I have refused to do what I was supposed and expected to do. CAT is a subject in our school that only the officers, who can freely exercise their authority upon the other students, enjoy. And maybe, there were also a few of us willing to be under their control and to just be disciplined enough to obey orders.

That day happened not because we were too lazy and uninterested of attending CAT. That day happened not because we were not disciplined. That day happened not because we want to brag that we can do it. That day happened because we refused to do something that we were only forced to do. That day happened because we made a choice – and we chose demerit and punishment over being controlled temporarily and obeying orders.

You know what I have realized just now? That I am only sugar-coating an irresponsibility I have committed. It’s the lack of discipline that provoked us to do something like that. When we’ve done that, we weren’t thinking of things such as control, demerit, punishment, and discipline, especially not of ideals and principles; we were only thinking of something more fun to do than CAT. That was totally irresponsible for students like us.

Maybe in high school, we were really supposed to submit ourselves to its rules. The schedule is tight and fixed, and school hours should be school hours. You can do whatever you wish with the time you have before and beyond that, but when it’s time to submit, submit wholeheartedly. After all, it’s all for your own good. Because in high school, we are still supposed to be ‘caged’ because our young minds are not yet ready to comprehend the complex functions and events of the real world, and everything life has to offer. We are being prepared to have all what it takes to surpass just anything and be strong. It is in those years that we think we already know everything and are capable of doing just anything, but we don’t fully know and understand the world and the consequences of our actions.

I blog

Before I wrote this article, I was having a hard time choosing between creating a new blog and continuing this one. As is apparent, I chose the latter. Why? Because even though I may be a different person now compared to the one blogging here before, I am sure that who I was before will always be a part of me and it’s something that has to be with me in my becoming.

So here I am again, after all those experiences – happy and sad, up and down, green and red – continuing the journey of a person under the control of her whims. The past, we shall always not forget, is and will always be a part of who you are today and the person you will become. Ok, cliché. It is something we should not hide, neither to dwell in. It is something to reflect upon because they are full of memories to be kept and lessons to be learned.

The title of this blog was not changed since I created it: Some Things Happen on a Whim. But it had before a subtitle, which I eventually deleted after some grammarazzi pointed out my error on who’s/whose: experiences and adventures of someone who’s under control of the dangerous instability of her whims. Initially, I planned to fill these blogs with stories from the past that had happened without long and careful thinking, spur-of-the-moment anecdotes, not-your-usual-things-to-do and yes-I’ve-done-it-before experiences. For some reason I don’t know, I ended up writing about feelings and emotions about things and people and forgot about my initial plan.

Well, like they always say, it’s better late than never. And since it’s my semestral break, I have the right to break free from the usual things I do and spend time writing about my past experiences, whimsy moments worth sharing and learning from.

I used to be a very impulsive person. And I must admit, up until now, I still a bit am. So expect random stuffs posted here every now and then. After all, some things happen on a whim.

“What do you think of snail mails?”

It was actually a test. And your answer would determine whether it’s the start of a new beginning for us or the end of those years we’ve been together.

I want to know if we have a connection. Something that only the two of us would understand. Yes, you will say I can’t generalize everything with just a single thing that came upon me on a whim. But no matter how impulsive things can get, if there is really something going on between just the two of us, we’ll understand, we’ll know without knowing why we know. That’s what I want us to have – that kind of connection.

After all those years, it’s sad to think that we failed to have it. It must have been the lack of proper communication, or the distance, or time. Or maybe, it’s just that. There’s nothing between us. No spark. No strings. No knobs. No hinge. No nothing.

No. It’s not that. I still want to believe that we have a connection. And it won’t come out in a single answer to my question which came upon me on a whim. Perhaps, this connection doesn’t come out of five years. Maybe it takes longer… just like snail mails, they’re slow in the coming.

*modified 07/03/2010

Brace

transitive and intransitive verb prepare for something bad: to prepare for something difficult, dangerous, or unpleasant that is about to happen
Microsoft® Encarta® 2008. © 1993-2007 Microsoft Corporation. All rights reserved.


I just felt the need to explain why I had braces because nobody understood why. It’s my metaphor for the break-up. And eating is moving on. It is hard to eat when you have braces and so you end up giving up solid foods and consuming only soups and soft foods. But man can’t live on soup alone. Therefore, he needs to eat no matter how hard it is, how painful each bite and swallow is. And so is moving on, it’s a hard and painful process.

I don’t really want to have braces; but my teeth needed it. It has to be corrected so that things go just the way it has to and to avoid bigger problems in the future. In the same way, I don’t want this break-up; but we both need it. It has to happen, so that things fall in the right place, and to avoid further breakdown in the future.

The moment my braces are to be removed, my teeth will be better. It might take time but it’s certain that it will be corrected and be just the way teeth has to be – clean, strong and in the right place. Then I can eat anything I want without undergoing that painful process of biting and swallowing.

I have

I have four beds in my room;
Every night, I sleep alone.
I have three MRT cards;
The places I go doesn’t require me to ride the train.
I have 287 friends in Facebook;
I am alone most of the time
I have 16 bags
I only use three of them
I have a boggle, a chess board, and a tic-tac-toe board
I have no playmate
I have two closets full of clothes
I wear the same shorts and shirts every week

I have four beds in my room
There lay the stuffs I don’t use…

Do I really need everything that I have?
And do I have everything that I need?

Mind Power

When I was younger, I have always been sure about myself… of the things I can do and the things I can be. When I was in grade school, when people ask me where I would enter high school, my immediate response was “USHS,” (our place’s smaller-scale version of Philippine Science High School) even though most of my classmates would answer, “…kung papasa.” But failing the high school entrance exam never crossed my mind. Then, at my senior year in high school, when people ask me where I would enter college, my immediate response…? “UP,” though most of them think it’s far from materializing. I was sure I would get into UP, though uncertain if I can get through my first program of choice. But it was all planned, from the time when I graduated grade school as the class salutatorian up until I shifted and transferred from the campus and program I was able to get into to the campus and program of my choice. All of those were mapped clearly on my mind. Perhaps, it has greatly contributed to the becoming of those things. That I had put them safe and secured in my mind made them happen in reality.

But now that I’m older, I have changed myself. I no longer think positively of myself, the becoming of my dreams, and the mapping of my clear-cut goals. Somewhere along the way, something has changed. Or maybe everything has changed. My dreams have been killed.

That I have realized this today and that I am writing about it means something is going to change again. But this time, it’s not for the worse. Maybe I shall come back to being the person I was before but I won’t. Believing in myself has helped me get where I am today, to the place where I’ve always wanted to be. It’s a good thing I have come to realize this soon enough, when I still have time to steer the wheel and make better decisions. This time, I will not only believe in myself… I will become.

Crybaby

I’ve always been a crybaby. I am emotional, sensitive, and yeah, weak.

I cry over things that are shallow and I cry over things that cut through the skin. I cry over movies and I cry over songs. I cry over people I don’t know and I cry over the ones that matter most. I cry over happy thoughts and I cry over sad memories long past. I cry over cotton candies and I cry over a cup of coffee. I cry whenever I think or laugh or walk or run. I cry over almost everything…

Once I have heard, that those who laugh over the simplest things cry over the simplest things. The ones who are easy to make laugh are also the ones who are easy to make cry. And I guess it’s true. Because you can make me laugh by just pulling out an old joke or a weird stunt, and you can make me cry by just a word or even the lack of it.

These past few days, I’ve been crying a lot. Confusing as it is to me, I have no definite answer if you would ask me why. There are so many things running through my mind and I don’t know which of them triggers the flow of tears that run through my cheeks. Some things are beyond my control. Count my tears in. Because no matter how hard I try to divert my mind to the more important matters at hand, it’s as if my eyes have a life of their own. And no matter how hard I try to use my eyes to see the bright side of life, it is blurred with tears and there’s no way it can figure out which side of life is bright, or is there really is?

I want to stop crying. I want to stop thinking. I want to stop remembering. How could it be possible that I continue to cry, think and remember when I have stopped living? How could it be possible that while my world has stopped spinning, the world around me didn’t even notice? How could it be possible that my sorrow did not even alter someone else’s life?

One day, I will get back with my life. Maybe by that time, I’d still be a crybaby. But after this, I shall arise stronger than ever.

For the love of a sister…

Thank you is not enough to tell you how grateful I am for having you as my sister. Because even if at times, and there has been many, that I have been a burden to you and made you feel unloved, you have showed me that no matter how prideful you are to other people, you can forget that and express regret even if it’s not your fault.



A thank you everyday is not enough to pay you back all the things that you have given me, and most of all, your love which is inexhaustible.

You have dreams of your own but you have set them aside so that I can achieve mine. And though it will be easy for you to chase your own dreams without the extra load you are carrying, you have never given up on me and have carried me all along.



I can’t thank you enough for giving up your own happiness for me. Because you are the only one I know who can do that for me. Though at times I fail to make you happy, I have always wanted you to be.

I am sorry for taking you for granted before or making you feel less important over other things or people. I am sorry for being selfish and arrogant, when you have been selfless and humble. I am sorry for being the thing that stopped you from living the life that you have always wanted. I am sorry that you have to settle for something less than what you deserve because of me.



You have been with me, helping me chase my own dreams, always making sure I don’t trip. With every bump and fall, you have always been there to heal the cuts and wounds, and even the broken bones. For everything that you are giving me, you make sure it’s better than what you have. You have always been there picking up the pieces of whatever I have broken. I will make sure all your efforts will never be futile. One day, I will make it big. Not just for myself. The bigger part of it is rightly for you.

The Architecture of Breaking Down

Even at this time, I am retrieving myself through the rubble. The retrieval operation may take long, even longer than it should be. In the end, I failed finding myself through the cluttered, chaotic place… for the rubble is me: the once picturesque building has now fallen down into fragments of concrete and steel.

Once upon a time, I was robust like no other, standing with considerable pride and confidence. I felt like no one can ever break me down, for I was made of concrete and steel, resiliently bearing all forces acting upon me.

The architect might have fallen short of education and experience he needed. Or the contractor could have committed an error in the construction. Or, maybe… the force was too strong -- out of this world -- and nobody ever thought of its possible occurrence. Whatever the cause might have been, it’s beyond the point now.

I have fallen down, like a soaring bird that suddenly came crashing down.

No longer can I feel the touch of the wind or hear the discreet sounds of airplanes’ flight.

No longer can I see the horizon or the sun or touch the sky and see the clouds slowly move.

No longer can I see the world from above.

Today, rubble as I may be, a chance to be rebuilt is all I need. A chance, a small fighting chance. To carry on with life even if there seems to be no other reason but that chance. To carry on even if it’s the only thing you’re holding on. Rosetti was able to rebuild Ferrara, Leonardo made Milan better after undertaking civic improvement projects and many architects made projects of remodeling and rebuilding. But neither Rosetti nor Leonardo can rebuild me now.

One day, I shall be able to rebuild myself from these fragments, without an architect, without a contractor, without you. Independent, dignified, pompous – I will be the tallest skyscraper in the world and you will look up to me. Then I shall see again, the beautiful world from above.

Setting it free

Remember the gem that comes only once in a generation? That it comes rarely in our lifetime is what makes it so hard to let go once you get the hold of it. But sometimes, we just have to set it free so that the whole world can have a share of the brilliance it has to offer. We must not suffer by knowing what a beautiful thing we have lost but exult because we had the courage to go on in life even without it, knowing that you have the whole world to share it with. And when it’s time, we just have to open our mind, our hearts and our hands… and let it go.