plain anything

i don't know how long i can hold and idea on my head. it is like holding water inside my mouth, not letting a single drop spill out. struggling to find a container where i can place it.

i thought of something this morning, that statement above. do you know how it feels when you're too desperate to write on what is in your head yet you do not have the means to write it? that is why i alwasy bring my phone with me, or a note pad and my pen at hand. for emergency sake.                                                     _______________

_(-.-)_____________________________________{^,^}____________________


                          unfathomable       __________________________        distance.

is there a person i truly loved? to whom i can confide my weaknesses without the fear of prejudice.


i want to write something tonight. however, i cannot persuade my self. and i cannot move my stubborn author within. impossible and immaterial. why the sudden barreness of feelings and inspirations? a languid soul was resting inside me and it has now deserted me, perhaps, taking a walk outside. and me, i'll just be here, and my laptop. with closed eyes i'll wait for your coming, for you to be written in beautiful symbols and so i can make sense of your form, and appreciate your beauty. knock on my door tonight and disturb me, and shook me till i wake  up. and tell me your story. languid.

morning outlet

good morning sun, though i haven't seen you rise this morning cause i was sprawling on my bed while watching the ceiling and thinking about first, (what i did i thought first anyway, i can barely remember it) my burden in my heart. yes, it is becoming such a burden to me now that i do not really open myself up. so unusual, so not me isn't it? but i do not want to be a confrontative and assertive to them now. as what i have said and what i alwasy try to achieve, there should be a proper and perfect timing for everything. i know i am always thinking about it, the timing. i plan things on my head many days before i would actually do my performance, but the thing is, even if things were meticupoiusly planne, script already memorized by heart, i cannot seem to perform it well when i am in the actual stage already. i all of my plans suddenly blows away because i still have that impulsive and compulsive nature in me, that is ruining everything. hate it sometimes though. that is why i hate planning and trying to set things as how it should be and must be.
and if you are confused as to what i am planning, since i haven't presented in the introduction because i was busy defending myself first, well, anyway, it is about my plan with regards to talking and confronting someone. because i think if i won't talk things over, it will be very dofficult for me most specially because i always think a lot and i crowd my mind with these guilty thoughts on my head. in which, i know myself, the more i think the more i convince myself to be guuilty of a crime i have never done. yes, that's me. and that is what i get from overthing even the most mundane of thoughts or events, or people whatsoever. i do wish i have the power the turn this mind off sometimes, cause i just want to be at peace and totally forget things that are supposed to not bother me but since i am such a bitch to myself and that is why thoughts and constantly thinking keeps on bothering my mind.
i want to clear myself out, i have this strong urge to clear my name though i really haven't done anything very mean or very wrong that is worth a lifetime imprisonment or lethal injection. i just feel like asking for an apology. becasue i think, despite me reasoning my out of this mess, i know i did something mean. i cannot point that out yet, but perhaps when i will realize my faults already (which is very rare.) i know i myself will sway off the dark clouds on my mind. and things will be fine, i am hopeful, i am always hopeful deep inside, despite my constant pessimism.
i just hope that when i talk things over already, the people i amadressing to will open their close minds and comprehend me, not miscontrued me because of my past faults, if i have done some to them. all along i am thinking, how mean am i. these are good people surrounding me and yet look what i am doing, shoving them away from me. however, i believe that there is a good reason for everything, i am convinced of that, of my own logical reasoning. perhaps i am dwelling more upon the guilty thought of actually isolating myself from them, of the facade rather than the back of it. that is why, perhaps i really do think myself somehow of having the fault. but well, if i am going to dissect it, disintegrate and analyze the sets of evets and actions made...well, i am rightful to be acquited, somehow i am. that is why, i will take efforts of clearing myself from an offence that shouldn't be construeded as an offence, not at all.
did i asked myself what would i feel after this? perhaps, i will be relieved at last from the burden of understanding immaturity and the ways of the immature persons.
buut let me write something about my current feelings now, i do feel down and neglected, and misunderstood and scorned at...and let me say a bit lonely. for a lot of reasons i guess: family, a friend who left for a job in a very distant place, anxiety, my current situation with my coworkers at the school i am currently working. but i guess, the reason that really distracts me most is the last one, because i can see these people everyday, and it really saddens me to see them close and painfully far from me. i mean they are really good people, why cannot i see it now? or is it my fault all along? they, making this distance? i don't know, that is why i would like to ask them. they really good to me, esepecially that guy, though he has also his faults. or so i just thought he is all this good kind person. am i right when i see him the saintly? am i not wrong or insufficient at some point when i said that? am i mistaken? i don't know. perhaps, he really is a good person. well he has done something good to me many times, and i want to emphasize and dwell on those. but why am i so duboius now of his motives, now that i am currently not in good tides with him. is it because this person wants something from me, and that is why he showed me all those good deeds? why am i such a cynical person. because it is! i really trust my reasoning, but on the other hand i shouldn't judge a person arbitrarily, i know that, i should have evidences to prove my claims, to streghthen my theory.i need facts that will substantiate my ideas. for now i don not know how will i squeeze that out from them, i need planning, thought in planning i am not good, though sometimes it is futile to plan things detail by detail for i know i t won't work out, as it should be and will be.
i really have to write to calm myself, to ease the burden. i need an outlet.

imaginary

i might not write like you, and i don't have intentions writing in a similar light as you do. because i really think that originality should come first; let that be an idea or your writing styles. anyway, staring this day on, i have decided to write something about my ideal lover who is just a ride away from my place, yet a universe away from me. i have been reading his blog and i can consider myself to be his secret and invisible fan. clapping my heart. and crying over his oh-so-bitter-sweet-romantic entries. i never wish i can write like him. i wish he will write for me, or he wrote those for me. in which the former can be a lot possible since i always have this undying will to let the universe conspire with me. haha.

the idea came two nights ago, it was one cold night and i was reading his old blog posts just before i bump the sack. it has been a habit now, and instead of making me sleep, it just made me think of him and the possibilities of "us" together, writing letters to each other. hehehe. so there i was, imagining that this guy is a distant lover. and me, writing letters for him as a reply. this is a very stupid an idea that's why i don't let anyone know about this. it will just cement their perception of me... lunatic. hahaha!

but would it sound unfair if i say that i am in love with the writings and not with the author? that it is not to him that i fell in love first but the beautiful play of words. nonsense!

empty words

my days starts with thoughts of you.
but will you say that you love me and show me that you care....
my love will always be with you..

above is an excerpt from a song currently playin on the radio. this should not be the flow of this essay, but somehow the lyrics of the song catched my attention and now i'm writing this one. i am writing this for someone far away from me. that someone i am loving from a distance. when i think of you i am thinking how can i ever show you my affection and prove you my love. how can i ever prove myself worthy?
sometimes when i ask myself this questions, i get to think if are you pondering the same questions, or, if does matter to you anyway. i want to think of the good times so that i can continue my feelings, but how weak am i and how untrue are these feelings. when i admire you only for the good times, and detest the bad. i pondered upon these thoughts and i prove it wrong, immaterial to the growth of my love for you. i love you, for who you are, bad or good as they may be. i love you for your past, present and future.

fate or destiny? choice? why it should be you? of all people. perhaps because God has his own reasons, and i hope these reasons are also my reasons. because i believe i cannot love a person for no reason, whatever they maybe, even how shallow they can be. all i need to do is to accept these reasons and let my reasons will also be yours. :)

_________________________________________________________________________________

but tell me, why am i writing with no soul in my words. like an empty shell loaded to a gun. why can't i feel anything from this?

born an artist

why is writing and sketching always give me the sense of immortality? and it never disappointed me to make me feel good after. i think i was really born for art in its many forms, i am born for poetry, literature, paintings, sketches, colors, i am born to manifest art and its beauty. i am art's daughter, though prodigal at times, for i always deviate forms. however, art, has been a very good father to me, he lets me do whatever i want for he knows that is how i give birth to originality and beauty. i love symbols. in all forms. i love letters and colors and lines. they love me as well for they never cease to give me a wonderful feeling every time.
"everyone is born a poet, an artist. however, not everyone knows they are."

about internal traffics, and fixing gutters

inspiration comes rare in a lazy afternoon, comes rare to a person who all did was laze around and staer at the ceiling contemplating about the whole universe. however, as  a defence, hey there is alwasy something intellectual in idling. perhaps, because it is in idling that you sometimes bump on something interesting and discover things you never expected to know. like an affirmation of love, or like loving someone you just affirmed in your head. or discovering the law of gravtiy or motion and whatnots. well enough, i wouls say this is the productive kind of procrastination, ideas juggling in your head trying to find their place in your almost crowded lane of thoughts, always in traffic, bumper to bumper, not keeping distances, all wants to be the first to notice. to b free from the subconscipous and be written in a piece of paper or be put into something out of the head. tobe realized and substantialized and concretized. but, i cannot do them all at once. that is why my ideas needs proper sorting and flow of the traffic should be ameliorated so that there would be smooth flow of thoughts. when will i accomplish this? i don't know or maybe after i fix the gutters and some broken lanes in my mind.

and speaking of cleaning gutters and fixing broken lanes, i noticed for it is noticable and the politcians' real purpose is to be noticed for it is near election already. of course, they want to impress us; or could also be, they want to impress something in our heads: "hey, this road has been made possible through the initiative of Cong. ________, mayor _______, or councilor ____________," . just the hell of it. it is not supposed to be an initiative, it is a direct responsibility for them to make these actions. or perhaps they just want to magnify there projects by adding INITIATIVE so that people will think, oh this person is a genius, he initiate the cleaning of the gutters and the lanes, so on and so forth and i feel like vomiting by all their shits. and so politicians make all these "pakulo" just to appear conspicous in the eyes of the people, to appear like they are really doing something... near the end of their terms! huh! fools. think we don't know these stuffs? i don't know how should i convince myself not to be cynical towards politicians, or should i even take some efforts to convince myself, nah, they are all the same. they are all the same to me. i don't know from the majority if they also think this way, because i think it is the otherwise.

anyway, i am not supposed to write something about this. but well, this is how my mind goes, it goes somewhere i never planned it to go. :) i partially forgot why i should be writing now. and honsetly, i totally cannot bring back the feelings and inspiration i had earlier, no matter how much i try to be in it again. oh well, perhaps it will visit me tonight before i sleep. so that i could write something for him.

dry river

i am writing in empty words again. pretensions and stage acts cannot fill in the hollowness within. it is like writing on sand, leaving no tracks as soon as the waves reach the shore. ephemeral, momentary, short-living, fleeting, insignificant now and forever be forgotten in oblivion. i am dying to write for someone for i have been writing for myself most of the time. (this one has nothing to do with this entry.)

i feel like deserted by ideas, not expressions, by soul, not words.

have i forgotten how to write? no.
i just ran out of reason.

random thoughts

behind those soft brown eyes are yearnings you hide: "i should have fucked you while i can." 

in love with his writings

i am in love, and maybe forever will be, with your writings. <3 i wish you could write something for me, someday. who ever that girl you dedicate your writings to, she's the luckiest. unfortunately she doesn't know she is.

still home

STILL YOUR HOME


far away you may go,
to distant islands you know
meet people, count the miles
be happy and forget the time
only one thing i want you to know,
when you come back
i'm still your home.

darling, as the clock ticks
and your heart beats fast
for the things you yearn,
trust that my love will last
even if it's not your concern.
you might be with strangers
and go to strange places,
but when you come back
feel the familiar love you have known,
i'm still your home.

chorus:

waiting, i'll be waiting
with my face on the window
hoping for your coming
a flower i held
in my hands,
like i held trust
in my heart.

_________________________

i wrote this while thinking of you. i hope someone will lay a good tune on it.

me and my God

my God.
my strength.
my wisdom.
my thoughts.
the air i breath,
the life i live,
this is all Yours.

my God.
my courage.
my shield.
my voice.
i praise you,
with all my art
my talent, my gifts
that you blessed me.
they are all Yours,
i am Yours and You
are mine.

my God.
my spirit.
my heart rejoices,
singing hymns
for all the grace,
the trials i face,
You and You alone
stood by me.

Amen.


Lord, my God, in the silence of the night, my soul is aching. and nothing is felt by the heart that is barren and dry with loneliness and anxiety, with nonsense worries and fears, with scorn and envy, with pride and guilt. Lord, i have forgotten our promise, the promise of the faithful, the spoken and not spoken. i have forgotten, or, perhaps, i fell upon the hands of deep rebellion and there i was strangled by my own wrong reasonings and selfish pride. Lord, this times i have forgotten to thank you and ask for forgiveness, i have forgotten that You have never forgotten me. even at times when i am alone and thinking and worrying about uncertainty, i am mostly not me, for i am not with You, cause i am not thinking with You. that there is You, and i need not to worry for You will be with me, whatever it is that i face. You God is my strength and my courage, and to whom should i put my trust, only to You, through me, and through the people around me.
everyday is a manefestation of your love for me, and when i wake up, i know i love You and You love me. i know, living my life happily, as you wish, will be the only thing you want me to do. my happiness is my gift to You. and look how amazing You are my Lord, it is not like repaying for your kindness, but it is a favor for me. all You ask is for me to live the life You wanted me to have, a happy and contented life. then why am i not doing this? why am i hiding behind the shadow of insecurity and pride? this is not Your will. these things won't make me happier. then why am i doing this?
in my pursuit to find my place, in my forcing to uncover the mysteries, in my placing mself above everyone, i have forgotten and lost track of what i really want...genuine happiness, the thing You want me to have, my one and only gift i can give You. i am lost. am i not? i want to be with You my God. and i know you always stays in my heart. till the end of time. till i not think of time anymore. You are always be there for me. and You never forget to remind me of that, to make me feel Your presence.

i love You, and thank You. Amen.

and i slept

from a distance, i can hear a mother
singing a lullaby, can you stay that way
and sing for me for a little while.
i am but a stranger wandering the night
bless my soul with your balming voice.
pour on me your kindness
and let me sleep upon your feet,
just for the night. just for the night.

i walk slowly, nearer you
let me have a closer look of your calm face
let your song give miracle to my weary soul
that it might be healed, and renewed,
and then i can go on with my long journey.
for i am a stranger and tired.
let me hear you sing please,
i'll be sitting upon your feet and rest my
labored body, just for the night, just for the night.

now i'm sitting upon your feet,
and you motioned me on your lap,
how kind of you, but you don't know me,
"you are my child" you said, "you were lost for a while
and now you are back, i have been with you,
i have never left you, i am just waiting for you.
come and i'll sing you the song i used to sing
when you sleep."
"just for the night?" i said.
"tonight, and the nights to come." you said smiling.


i have slept.