time

every now and then i would falter, look back and stumble into the very abyss i've been trying to escape from. every now and then i would delude myself that my head can now silence the heart, and face the old questions that's been haunting me, hoping that there will be answers that would finally put me at peace.

 

but it doesn't hurt as much, nor am i as troubled. there is a comforting thought that somehow, someday, all these will be just be memories -- the old questions will lose their meaning, and the answers will no longer matter...

faith

last sunday, all of my housemates went home, and i became the apartment's supreme overlord -- the living room, the tv, and the cozy beanbag are mine all mine! *evil laugh*  not wanting to do anything or go anywhere (procrastination... taking... over...), i fell into one of my rarest pleasures -- solitude. just me, my thoughts, and my rock ballads collection.

 

the thought of hearing the afternoon mass occurred to me, but somehow it wasn't that compelling. come to think of it, i never considered myself as a devout catholic, and i somehow never had the drive to learn and understand more of the church's teachings beyond what is preached in its halls on sundays. i still cannot recite most of the prayers and responses verbatim (in any of the three philippine languages i know -- shame shame on me), nor do i understand the reasons for most religious holidays, among others. i shy away from debates about faith and religion, which i find completely pointless (reminds me of the classic "ang tamang daan" versus "iglesia ni kristo" word battle and mudslinging, aired over their respective tv networks on primetime. ugh!).

 

what bothers me is that this doesn't bother me at all. i was never the one to have spent parts of adult life suffering from religious identity crisis because it never mattered to me in the first place.

 

not yet, though.

 

sooner or later, i will have to compel myself to fully understand the faith i was raised with. someday, if fate be kind, i will be raising my own kids, and i will have to answer questions about faith from their young, inquisitive minds. for now, i comfort myself that my faith is there, alive in my own understanding.

 

kids? oh no! i am getting old. ^_^;

picture perfect?

there's no ending to the wonders liquor and good company can do. inhibitions crumble and secrets rush forth like breached dam. we talk of betrayal behind the best of friendships, of infidelity hidden in the shadows of seemingly flawless relationships, of the innate weakness of the human heart, of broken vows, of great foes and even greater loves  -- all conjured from the recesses of our memories...

 

the brightest picture hides the darkest negative.

 

sometimes i wish the memory of last night's conversation would just fade away like some terrible hangover.

filial fighting

last night, for the first time, i worked out in a gym. the instructors are pleasant and they have the looks to show their expertise (next to them, i feel like some pathetic ectoplasm). while the gym's space is somewhat lacking, the equipment and facility are fairly adequate. the people are generally nice to look at because most have clearly been spending some time working out. the instructor started me with chest and triceps workout. he told me that if i want faster toning and definition, i should do more reps and sets than my usual home routine.

 

and so now i can hardly lift my arms (and still a mass of flabs. haha! dream on!).

 

but i like it, and i'll go back for more.

 

back in the good old college days, we would spend 2-3 hours, three times a week, punching, kicking, throwing, and grappling in a so-called martial arts training. it was a small organization, with active members averaging only to ten. for over two years, we've sparred and trained with almost the same group of people, with occasional inter-chapter trainings. having spent that much time together, every punch, kick, throw -- among other sorts of painful exercises -- has developed a certain bond among the us.

 

filial fighting.

 

how hard you hit your sparring partner, how high you throw them in the air, is how much you love them. we were taught not to pull punches if we want our partners to improve and be pushed beyond their limits. we would end each training session tending to each other's bruises.

 

i got punched real hard just days ago, my chest still ache a bit... but i know it's for my own good, and i know that it is out of love.

 

it sucks, though, tending to your bruises on your own. Ü

of rain and reminders...

it was in january 31, 2001 when i wrote "personal webpage" in "my things to do/have" list. it ranked just below "digital camera" and above "flatbed scanner" (originally it was "own car", but i scratched it out and wrote it next to "own house"). in march 15, 2001, warped gaia was posted. just a test, i thought then, of what i can do online.

 

the webpage turned out to be more that i expected. with it i learned new skills and discovered the joys of recreating the world as i see it in words, forms, motions, and colors. it was a recreation of my being -- online. it felt good. it was intoxicating. it matched my every mood, thought, and emotion...

 

i abused it.

 

having lost the time to channel my thoughts through pen and paper, the webpage became refuge to my deepest and darkest emotions. it became a dumping ground of all my angst and frustrations, among other things that eventually made warped gaia unfit for sharing. in august 15, 2003, i deleted it...

 

it was at its darkest.

 

almost a year after and here i am again, finding escape, survival, and solace in these pages. i can never tell how dark it will get, but i comfort myself that there will also be brighter things.

 

thanks for bringing in the sunshine, rain. Ü