Re:Vamp

Sparkling Vampires. Okay let's not laugh about this. But if you really can't help it, be my guest.

There is just something about the conversation I had this morning that jingled my urge to write a blog entry. The idea, actually, had been squirming in my head since last night, but this early morning's dialogue just pushed it to a "go".

One word: Vampires

I developed a premature fondness over Vampires in my younger years, having watched old films of Dracula and other interesting facts about those blood-sucking critters.

I especially liked Anne Rice's rendition of vamp tales namely The "Interview with a Vampire", "Queen of the Damned" and "The Vampire Lestat", two of which made it to the big screen. How I enjoyed the luscious view of Stuart Townsend's body. The late Aaliyah also starred in the Queen of the Damned, and damn, she was hot (no disrespect meant). Sadly by the time I watched this film of hers, I got a wift of the terrible news of her death.

Other vampire movies that followed suit: Blade and Van Helsing (but not so much due to the Lycan involvement).

No, I haven't watched Nosferatu. I'm not yet that of a hardcore fan. Although some say, it's the creepiest vampire movie ever made.

I retained my interest in vampires as I've become an avid viewer (addicted even) of AXN's Buffy the Vampire Slayer series that had Sarah Michelle Gellar as the infamous blonde, two-fanged-ass-kicking chosen slayer.

It's pretty interesting how vampires no longer age, feel pain or be subject to human sufferings. Of course, their exceptional beauty upon transformation, unfailing charisma to humans and supernatural abilities were added factors for my lured interest.


Those were the good ole days. When vampires roll and burn at the first streak of sunlight, when they flee at the sight of a garlic clove, when their best hang-outs were in cemeteries and when they sneak in for a bite.

NOW. There's the overly glimmified blood-suckers and cliched cold-hearted-vampy-needs-some-lovey-dovey.

Insert Twilight here.


No offense to Stephanie Meyer, that's her own perception of Vampires.

But, really, SPARKLING vampires? Has all the scary figure, lurking creature of the night really turned into a softie?
Weakness/es: Love?

And here's another thing.
I hate it when Vampires are mixed with Werewolves. Yes, I get it they're natural born enemies and all that. But it's like watching a Freddy versus Jason thrill film. Vamps have their own thing as well as those wolves.

Am I the only one who thinks about these? I mean, I watched a better vampire movie last night and it doesn't even compare to Twilight.
Remember "We Are The Night"?
Still a better love story than Twilight.

Ah, I see where the problem lies. It just overstretched itself on the bounds of fiction. It tried to be believable that it sort of distorted our outlook on vampires. Or was it due to what we were accustomed to believe about them?

Bah, head hurts. The books are good enough, I just don't know about the movie. Not satisfied about it I guess.


All I know is, Vampires don't sparkle unless they came from the breed of Tinkerbell.

Obliviation

I forgot.

I forgot what you said to me five seconds ago. I forgot to tell you that I borrowed a pen from your station, even though I reminded myself that thrice. I forgot that I was suppose to bring an umbrella due to the moody weather. Then again, I forgot how good it was to feel the rain running down on my skin.

I forgot how nostalgic it all seemed when I caught a glimpse of you from the outside of my freshly-painted-white window sill. I forgot how scrumptious my gran-gran's special Clubhouse sandwich is as the added melted cheese filled my mouth. How the pedicab drivers by-standing at our street's corner say their cheery Hello's whenever I pass them, the excitement of making new friends (not just flimsy acquaintances) motivates me, the indulgence in coffee makes me blurt out impossible phrases and ideas (more intoxicating than alcohol), and the feeling of being just fine.

Nothing to fret about except what's gonna be for lunch.
I forgot how lovely it all was when I still had feelings for you. And the goodness of my favorite Godiva white chocolate. The exchange of smiles and those knowing three-second stares made the butterflies in our stomach wild with glee. Or the time when we shared hours of conversation one rainy night, both waiting for that thing that didn't happen (perhaps it never will). Of course, there were times I tried questioning myself of how it all led to this, but it's too late. Always too late to ponder on such things though eager to make them right.

Maybe it's my fault. For being too weak when all the while I knew you were too. Making you carry all the burden. Not a word was said as it all just slowly faded.

Then was it all meant to be forgotten?

And then remembered and then forgotten just to infuriate our frustrations?
Flash forward. How painful it would seem when after all these years, when we meet once more we'll hear each other say: "Oh, I forgot about you." With all the pretentious smiles still intact.

The Block

Looking through old files, things I've written, half-baked stories and concepts,  an old feeling came over me. Made me realize how much I miss writing, writing with no sense, purely writing for the purpose of pouring ideas into one solid bowl. And then, I miss the person that I was. An idealistic writer, hoping to change even the puniest thing in our world. Just something, an achievement perhaps, but nonetheless, yes, I had believed that I had that kind of power.

We all do, I think, had thought of it once. Although, these words I use are not good enough to make that "move" or these clichéd lines and outlines seemed to be lost and buried among the countless efforts of other writers. It's not that I've completely lost faith in myself, it's just sometimes I question myself, if this is what I really wanted to do. Or is it just because it was the only thing I held onto when I was a child. Had I tried other dreams, would I still choose this path? Apparently, I'm a bit disorganized with thoughts causing jams and loops in every flow. How can I be a writer? How can I be a better writer when I filter everything I read, I write about things that other people are not even interested about and I'm a lazy-ass who leaves story ideas untouched afterwards? It feels like I've been to those social groups with all those troubled people sharing their problems and stuff and I've just digested that I'm a bad mother. And here I thought, I just lost my writing mojo. But what if, it wasn't there to begin with? Am I prepared to abandon this long-term dream and start finding a new? Scary thought there. It would be like leaping from a cliff to plunge into a sea of uncertainties. I have no idea where I'll go from here on out or I am ever bound to go somewhere.

Whatever it is I am supposed to do, I’ll be glad to accept. As long as it does not involved poles and poop sanitization. For now, if it is writing, then I’ll just have to write and write until every ounce of passion in my particle is exhausted.

Pour écrire est de créer une nouvelle vie.

(To write is to create new life)

An equivocal truth: Denial

 

You try so hard to be unaffected and you keep telling yourself it's nothing, but the more you do, the more you realize it does mean something. It means a lot actually to the point that you're ready to deny it every time it comes up. Quite an obvious defense mechanism, but lies do not become you. They grow into solid blocks that fervently lock you away and soon make it difficult for everybody else to know you. Or yourself, when you eventually live on your own lie.





La vie et le mensonge d'un prisonnier. (The life and lies of a prisoner.)
You can't let just one passive answer slip out as this will surely haunt you  or worse, backfire on your safest retreat. Paranoia.


Pour dire la vérité, denying is simply also stating the fact of its existence.
Your refusal to admit that there is something would just leave a dent on you somewhere, perhaps not now, but soon you'll realize.


D'ignorer, c'est à son insu crier pour il.
(To ignore it is to unwittingly scream for it.)

The Voyage

Paglisan mo ay buong buo
pati parte ko ay iyong tangay
Pag daan ko dyan sa may Edsa
Nahagip mo
Nasagi
Nadurog
ng pinong pino
ang kalamanan
ang katawan
ang kaluluwa
mas masahol pa
sa nangangasim na gatas
sa nilalangaw na pusa
sa nabubulok na kamyas
ang hayaan na lang
maiwan
ang hindi
pa tapos na paal-...

The view: outwards and onwards

Drifting through the meadows
of my spacious consciousness
is the hope of finding again
the opportunity of engaging
in

looking forward to
the "talk-that-never-was"
or to the "hug-that-never-will-be"

And there we pass again,
not by the same street sign
but to the invisible stitch
protruding somewhere
just above our beer-filled bellies

a place for drowned
winged-insects that once
fluttered by here and there inside
with rainbow colored flaps

This time we say (in chorus or not):
"Here lies
something broken
and unappeased,
it had lived and then died,
was sort of there and then no longer."

for the seventh blasted time.

Consumption

A night in coffee is a night of ecstasy.

Caffeinated breaths,
conspired,
luring out castrated thoughts.

Mid-air mind-flights,
solicited,
booming extemporaneous laughters.

And a cloaked skyline,
liberated,
scattering romantics and poetic fools.

:)

And we're pretty because we say so. ;)

Friends, no matter how difficult you are to be with, stick with you like glue.

A fictitious night to not remember

You lean on me. Slowly, I feel your breath so close to my face. And I could smell the alcohol seeping from your tongue. I don't want to be kissed the way you want it to be. I don't want to fall victim to those ogle-ly eyes that lure me into your arms and your voice that tells me that I am your prey.

Saying that I'm pretty over and over doesn't help at all, it only makes my notion of you, being the typical player that you are, stronger brick by brick. I gulped and inched away and playfully shoved you to the side as I take the whole thing as a joke.

But your face for a matter of two to three seconds show signs of disappointment and irritation blending all so perfectly well. I beamed at you and nudged you again to lighten up the mood, and of course you play along. You don't want to lose me. To lose the challenge you put yourself up with.

I am the challenge. The prize. And the sore loser of your game.

I knew it all along, but here I am still clinging onto you. Dazzled by your flawed and clichéd act of strumming the chords of my heart (or every girl's heart), I lose my logic. Or maybe it's there but I had it on 'passive' mode.

Seriously, you play by the book in which I had already skimmed but you have mastered. You are a true player but I refuse to admit that you're better at it.

Here it goes again, your hands snake along my arms down to my immobile hands and your fingers intertwining along with mine. I obliged. I let you hypnotize me once more. We are too close for comfort and the lack of distance suffocates me to the core.

In need of space and clear thoughts I pushed you away further. There I could breathe. And I untangled myself from the invisible bonds you wished were real.

You cooed me and pulled me a little closer, gently, afraid that I might fight your touch. I don't but I stayed where I was.

It was for a second or two that I realized I was holding my breath. You sighed and relented to your side, anticipating my next move.

Like chess, like checkers, like a splendid game of scrabble and snakes and ladders.

I don't want to be kissed the way you expected it to happen. I don't want to kiss someone I think I know, nearly a stranger, a passerby. I want to make sure you're still there in the morning, have breakfast together, celebrate an anniversary for the 20th time at our favorite spot, have afternoon teas as we talk about mundane things and spend the night cuddling till we're fast asleep again. That was the kind of kiss I wanted to give and share.

But you put up your effervescent wall every time and there's just nothing I could do at all. I left it at that. What can I do with such a seasoned firewall?

We shared a forced smile and a laugh that faded all too quickly, maybe because it was fake? We didn't care.

After the most awkward 15 minutes of our lives, we called it a night. And later told ourselves that nothing ever happened.

People, especially the weakest in facing their fears, are good at that. Ignoring what obviously can't be disregarded, but still it had to be so.

It was no more less than fiction. Just a sudden test of attraction, leading to an almost epic failure.

No one will believe us anyway.

a little wish

I'd like to see the sunset again.

with all those pretty

sad

hues

and

touchy tones

of colors

reigniting

the embers of our

forgotten hearts

Simplified

Been stuck in bed for almost a day, sick and frustrated (not the sexual kind), and all I have for a companion is my trusty laptop which I named Ishnie.
And after browsing the entirety of my Facebook account and listening to random music, I have decided to mess with my blog. I haven't had the proper mood to write something or anything in weeks, but I had this urge to decorate/change something in my blogsite.

And then, maybe I could get my mojo back. It may be a trivial thing but hey, this could help in uplifting the inspiration-ban inside my head.
Other than thinking red monkeys singing La Bamba on top of Taj Mahal and a full-grown elephant dangling from a tree on a cliff, I would really like to free myself from such horrid and surreal thoughts. Take a pen and scribble sensible things in my journal once more.

And so, after two hours of deciding whether to go goth, idiotic and uncaring for my blog's look, it took this surreal sketch on my header to establish what I want my blogsite to look like. I trimmed it to a sheer white impression and used a part in the lyrics of a song I've been listening to more than 5 times today (talk about LSS).

Upload, delete, upload. And there you have it. I painted it white and stained it with my entries, each letter representing a distant memory and every punctuation deserved a contemplative pause.



Satisfied with what I've done, I took a nap, and told you.

Plummet to affliction

Letting go of someone so dear is like watching an elephant dangling from a tree. It is unheard of, it is quite impossible but not necessarily non-imaginable.

Waiting for the inevitable fall.

Martyrdom doesn't really mean to die for the sake of many or for one. Well of course, that would mean defying dictionary-term definitions, but is there a need for death to prove we care? In love, we get that a lot especially from romance films that sacrifice signifies the greatness of one's affection towards another. The greater the sacrifice, the greater the love is (yeah right~).

Think Bea and John Lloyd: Girl meets Boy, they fall in love. Years passed Boy falls out of love and despite the heart's protest, Girl accepts this fate and lets it all go. Just to secure Boy's happiness.

This is what I mean by the common set up in most heartbreaking scenes for romance flicks. Or it might be the other way around. The male protagonist would be the one to play the hero and smile sadly as he watches the girl he loves run into the arms of the newfound happiness.

It's not exactly death, but the torment blustering inside could naturally equate it so. For the select who haven't lived the experience, we hear stories, catch it on movies, dramas and read about them. We may even sometimes laugh about them and say how corny, how unreal and pathetic it all sounds. However, once the tables have turned it would be our past selves who will jest about our plight.And it's because we can only think of it but not really feel it. Like hearing people out or giving pieces of advice to a friend, you'll never know exactly what to say unless you've been there and gone through with it yourself.

-

How many times should you let someone go until you'd just stop and think, "why"?

-

You love them, care for them and eventually assume that they'd stay in your life for more than forever, but what happens if they don't? Not that I'm being pessimistic.

But that's the way it is. The Inevitable is herald to departure and farewells. As much as we'd want them to stay, their lives are not in our hands and their choices are not ours to make.

-

Why bother clinging to someone too much when you know at the end of it all, suffering awaits? Masochism.

Sacrifice. And the best damn answer, Love.

-

To recall, I heard someone say to me once, "It's love when you choose to keep all the hurt inside just to spare those special people from frowns and aches."

Just to say triumphantly (or tragically) that they deserve to be happy (like you don't?).

The thing is we all do deserve to be happy, and insisting to continuously mend something broken would later on wear it out until it becomes irreparable. 

 

-

Why prolong the agony of having no more love at all?

I say let the elephant have his fall.

Last post for the night, swear!

Now entering my dreamspace. Ah, paradiso paradis. 

Good night, good night

Thankfully, my writing has changed. I don't know if it's for the better but all I'm certain about is that I'm being influenced by someone I consider terrific. Also a writer of poetry and a "supreme" music fellow (I gave you a hint). Yes, you rock, You the man. Bows and praises. Two words. Rock On.


And that would be my way of saying, Thank you.


My previous update "Slide to Unblink", I don't know what external force made me write that. And the "Tapsi fume" which I wrote months before graduation for someone unforgettable, had also been revised as a tribute to this day. August 29. My admission to Oblivion.

"I forget your eyes, I forget your touch, your voice but never the day I wrote a stanza for you. The lines that remind me of the joys of basking in your puddle of love and the words that pierce like a hundred heated-needles"

Forget the person, but not the feeling.



Bonum nocte,
somnus puteus meus carus unus.

Slide to Unblink

Blink. Unlock. Blink. Nothing.

An empty box before
my eyes but not entirely so,
I just try to
search
for some kind of
novelty

a single thing to pass
could be simple
or a mere symbol

anything,
turning it into a sign

begging it to arrive
before some kind of deadline

Tapsi fume

Tonight is another replay,

another night of re-run on the way you smiled.

Although the smoke, clouded much of your face,

I could still see that upside frown

when you looked at me.

Cigarette or none,

lighter of hers or no one,

still you came and gave me that sweet curve,

I've always been dreaming of.

Envy could be a crime

Today, I posted a stat on FB. I was luring my friends for some out-of-town getaway, just the lot of us. I never felt this excited in months, and so I wanted to fully exhaust the feeling. Friends whom I tagged/invited for this weekender started commenting, they had doubts yes, but they were excited as I was nonetheless. It was quite fun, planning and laughing via chatbox with these creatures I have barely seen since graduation a few months back. So there I was, chatting them up and describing the beauty of Las Casas Filipinas de Acuzar, our esteemed destination. I was even searching for some affordable packages that we could use, and then it happened. An intruder, a former friend back in my elementary days that I happened to be reunited with in college, left a marvelous comment that had my brow raised for 2 seconds top. Everybody (and I meant our whole class) hated her. Man, I began to grow irritated with her too. She was like this unattractive Sarah Palin, only shorter and has more fats with loads of invalid arguments. Actually, no. She could not even compare to that American politician, at least Palin gained votes, even the minority of it. With this femme, no. No votes at all, not even a cheer. So back to the comment. She started with a line that says, "Oh my client works there.. it's blah blah (explaining to me what the place looks like. Like duh? That's why we want to go there! To catch a drift of the faded Hispanic era and relive the culture of it all!)" I retorted positively, stating that I already read about the place and saw it on TV numerous times. And to think she'll cut it from there (she's not even invited or whatever). She added, "I'm not aware of that it was televised, but my client is in charge of managing the place and he's the one who introduced it to me. It's a lil expensive but I'm sure it'll be worth a trip.". Brag much? Okay, whaddya mean in the last part? This kind of started to piss me off and I caught myself doing the McKayla discontent lip thing. I replied to her: "Yes, well that's why I'm finding less pricey packages and I think renting a whole casa makes it more expensive reaching about 11 to 18k than package inclusive room accommodations". Content with what I have said to her, still she had the guts to comment another more. In her last comment that I failed to provide a further response in utter annoyance, she says: "Yes, you could do that. But if you're a group of 8 to 10 just be sure to provide a minimum of 5-6k each, all expenses in. They give tours as well privileging you to use their amenities as well".
That did it. Lost my prized excitement and my appetite for planning. Was she saying we cannot afford such luxury just because her job lets her mingle with old, money-stinking bank CEOs? Okay. Temper control. I don't know what's gotten into her but it just made me laugh afterwards. One word struck me, ENVY.

Just because we're gonna have fun (and you're not included) doesn't mean you could ruin it for us. Laugh trip.

Let me tell you something about that particularly deadly sin. I was never a fan of Envy. It takes too much energy. When you're envious of someone, you have to be up-to-date of everything, and I mean, everything about them. New phone, expensive meals, cool hobbies (that you think could never suit you if you tried) and etc. You always have to compare the things you have and don't have with theirs. Plus, you whack your brain out with grand (in a lame way, if you know what I mean) excuses to compensate with your insecurities. Tiresome, right? You waste your time catching up only to find out it's too late, he/she has something new or better to brag about. But you don't stop from there. It's like an addiction, once you let the feeling dwell in, it's quite impossible to suppress it the way you want it. Like keeping a monster that you thought you could tame. Sucks. And then there's the possibility of losing yourself, you are so centered on the idea of toppling down this person or these persons you placed magnificently on a pedestal that there's no space left for your own identity. You slowly want to steal their identities, replace them on that spotlight that you yourself created.

Envy is a cancer-like obsession that slowly gnaws you up, piece by piece that starts from your superficial desires creeping its way up to your entire being. And the final stage for this chronic mental disorder (if worse comes to worst), this leads to you a sinister plotting of bringing that unlucky fellow down with no particular reason at all, with a firm belief in the cliche line "if I can't be happy, then no one will". That's a villainy end for you, chump. Perhaps I'll just see you in the big screens or in the papers stating you're in jail, either way you'll be famous. Won't that be nice? :D

Go go go! Shake your Panda stuff... Kawaii <3
Thanks @drippinglazers !

Just him.

I met this guy, semi-cute, semi-smart.

But whenever I'm with him my heart races. He's so average to the point that no one else notices him (except for me, of course), but I guess it feels lucky that way. At least, I don't have to worry about competing for his attention and stuff.

Every time he talks, it gets to my nerves, we argue a bunch of times, some may even say we bicker like an old couple and yet we remain just acquiantances. We're not like friends or anything, just one step ahead of being strangers to each other's lives.

He seems okay whenever he's with my friends but when I'm around him, he acts all formal and remote. I don't want to be the first one to close the distance, it's supposed to be his job not mine! He's a guy after all.

Although, it gets me wondering whether it's me who's waiting up on him or is it the both of us? I can't say.

I can't even imagine myself committing to a relationship with him.

You see, at one look we don't match at all. Everyone says I'm gorgeous, sweet and witty while this guy is plain and perhaps anti-vanity. He's decent, that's all I could say. He doesn't have any striking quality that would send even the most average girl dashing on her heels for him.

Though some dare to say that at a closer look one might find "us" interesting and sort of a Shakespeare-cliche.

Yet I like him. I like him very much.

It's not like I go gaga over him, I just feel at ease and jittery at the same time at his mere presence.

The kind of guy that I would like to love, would probably be like him.

Normal, ordinary, simple.

Not showy or extraordinary. Not a speck of pretense in his body.

And above all, real.

Inner strength

Giving up is not always a sign of weakness, sometimes letting go of something you hold dear, enables you to grow and manifest your true strength. Conceiving the idea that your aspiration is something that hinders you from going beyond what you thought is the only thing that you could do. Although, it is hard to explicate some things that shroud you with doubt, it will occur in one way or another that happiness is nonexistent and everything you've worked so hard for goes to ashes. In a sense, misery is the only component that is equated from Life. After chasing happiness until the end of the world, it would just factor up the imaginary belief that we had that we could achieve happiness by committing sacrifice.

Comments on the movie: "In the name of love"

-the most admirable thing about a person is how much that individual could endure so much for the person he/she loves and how willing that man/woman is to give everything he/she's got, even his/her life.

-two men catching a bullet for a woman... that's something! Something that could only be found in Movies! :))

-At times, when you feel guilty for causing trouble for the one you love, it makes you wonder if the sacrifice that you're making is something that could make amends or something that you want to do...

-May mga pagkakataong, mas gugustuhin mo nang makulong habang buhay na nagdurusa basta madagdagan lang ang mga araw na masaya ang taong mahal mo.

-Masakit isiping iniwan ka ng mahal mo, pero mas masakit pa lang malaman na iniwan ka niya para rin naman sa kapakanan mo...

-totoo ba na kayang isuko ng isang tao ang lahat lahat para lang sa ngalan ng pag-ibig? 'Yung tipong, suntikin ka na, sampalin ng paulit-ulit, ipakain sa buhaya,i-torture, ikulong nang habang buhay at worse, ipapatay ka na.. Alang-alang sa kaligayahan ng buhay ng taong hindi mo naman kadugo o kaano-ano... ni wala ka ngang kasiguraduhan na mutual ang feeling eh...

Only that person's words are your assurance... words that are made-up and could vanish within a snap...