23

nightmorn bird song
december 23, 2008 (the date is aligned with the title!)
1:29 a.m.

any time i am awake from 10pm to 5am is a time of day called nightmorn. a time deemed special because of purely sentimental reasons: of waking up early and staying up late at the same time; of seeing sunlight and moonlight from a screen; of a stillness and silence that pervades even in the online world; of words exchanged: quotidian but never mundane; of hanging on to words.

tonightmorn, the exchange is cut short and i am left to linger. not quite ready to go to bed, but not quite keen on starting on more work, i linger. i observe my plurk timeline and realize most of it refers to schoolwork of late. and i think That can't be all i can say. so i listen to myself for something else.

and i realize, with the help of some sort of faint familiar sound at the back of my head, that i do not hear birds here in london. i see them an awful lot: i see, on my way home from school, flocks by the hundred flying across the heavy gray skies and into the vivid orange sunset when it is about to rain. i see V-shaped lines of them in the mornings, flying across twilight-colored skies and into a similar vivid orange, a sunrise this time; along with stark white jet streams of flying locomotives that never seem to stray too far from the skies of london.

but i never hear them.

an incredibly ironic - but in a good, amusing way: is there word for a positive kind of ironic? - thing that i should realize this by that faint similar sound that is a bird's song. a sound that a few minutes i catch up on as part of reality. coming from outside my bedroom window. it was subtle at first, with long intervals in between, which is why i dismissed it as something my head just played in itself. but the more i paid attention to it, the more often this little voice rang outside.

i get up from the chair i sit on now and go up to the window. without drawing the blinds first, just listening for the sound without visual observation, as if ready to say Oh i was right, i was just hearing it in my head. but no. it rings again. i smile a little in disbelief. i draw the blinds and open the window. i am greeted by a still, cool air, and it is silent for a few seconds, and then

it sings again. this little chirping, half melodious sound rings through the sleeping, unmoving air. this unseen bird is the star of henley avenue tonightmorn, 1:23am. the voice echoes in a way that it almost sounds ethereal, like it were something taken from the other side of nightmorn. i look down the roads within my sight, scanning in T-shaped fashion. the roads are empty. houses are asleep. at this moment the world is lit by a mellow yellow light, and a fox crosses the road, and a bird chirps. a single little chirping and half melodious sound. the air is completely still, even as some of it lingers inside my room after having shut the window. still, as if it stood staring at me in the space on my left, between my seat and the window. still, as if everything were asleep. except for this little bird, and me.

if i close my eyes in bed, it will feel like a december dawn back in the philippines. back in my bed beside the window in mangosteen st. back where i see big green leaves and a piece of sunrise sky through the mosquito screen and the white grills. if i close my eyes, it would almost feel like being back home. morning instead of nightmorn.

1:53am : i finish writing this post and the bird still sings, a little chirp and half melodious sound, half in reality and half in my head.

untranslatability : isang listahan

during my last stay in the philippines, i discovered a love for our native language because of the beauty of untranslatability. it is almost like there are certain things that we alone can explain, we alone have seen and experienced and therefore have named.

there are so many words and phrases that can't be translated into English, the language i'm more fluent in. i have read somewhere that in the Filipino language, there are:

- eighty-eight words for to see or to look at
- more than one hundred words for the different kinds of touch
- seventeen words that mean to bear or to carry; each one a different way of doing so

help me out please? this list needs:

1. words, or phrases.
   
2. English/Filipino definitions (for those i haven't given definitions, or to replace my attempts, hahah) will be terrific because i want to compile this. 

i'll add to this list as it grows. :)

starting with a few words, everyday words; and some interesting ones i have found so far:

-----------------------------------------

last edited 12.01.08
- separating the real words from the interjections/slang/other colloquial terms. i'm actually not sure of my groupings (obviously i'm no expert at this language. just an appreciator), so if someone can point out real words from slang, then great.
- please try and explain the words you give :)
- let's keep the list clean, yeah? i don't really want a sequel of the many meanings and uses of the F word. haha.

-----------------------------------------

real (for the lack of a better word) words:

• sayang
• kilig
• ipo-ipo (wind that goes around in circles, carrying with it leaves or sand or dust)
  
• matanaw (to see from far away)
• lagot
  
• gigil
• lambing
• buklat (to open, as in a book)
• saraduhan (to close the door on someone)
• tampo
• karagatan
• dakila
• mandirigma
• habang-buhay
• asar
• grabe
• ewan
• hakbang
• laktaw
• matino / tumino
  

colloquial-ness:

• hay nako
  
• ano ba yan
• bakit ba
• ikaw na nga!
• wala lang - "bakit mo ginawa yun?" "wala lang".
  
• pasaway
• jologs
• kwan

22

serendipity met me today. i sat at the bus stop with a gigantic A1 sized folder (actually it was slightly bigger than A1 because it was for keeping A1 paper, which makes it all the more gigantic and hard to carry around), feeling proud of myself that i had lugged the thing from the art room and out into the bus stop. a minute later an elderly but fit man walks by, stops in front of me and:

man: darlin' i don't think you'd be well waitin' fo' the bus he', they've blocked off the roads from there *points behind him* to up there *points ahead*. even i had to park me car round the corner!

Oh okay that sucks i say, stand up and start to walk. we walk together. You in art school? he asks. Yeah, i say enthusiastically, smiling. A bit of an artist meself, he says, More of a cartoonist really, i really enjoy drawing cartoons. he smiles, seeming reminiscent of drawing. I tried to get me work out once, he says, To a friend. I was just seventeen then! he exclaims, beaming. i can't help but keep smiling at what is happening while i walk and watch this man talk to me about his passion for drawing cartoons. It was well near impossible to get work out then, he says. Not a lot of opportunities. i ask him what he ended up doing and he says he became a draftsman. BORRRRIN', he drones, and laughs, and i laugh with him, and he says, But i'm retired now.

and suddenly he's walking a little further and i realize we're going in different directions. he is turning left while i go straight. Well you take care, dahlin'! he calls, waves, and continues his way down the road. It was really nice talking to you, i call, and i watch him walk away for a while before picking up my pace.

then i walked through a car crash site - the reason why roads were blocked - and went on home.

----

last night:

2202. you can't quite nail what makes the tears fall right now.

maybe it's the empty feeling in this house. emptiness caused by laughter you're not a part of. conversations you hear from up in your room. the cold that seeps through concrete walls and glass windows. the collection of unread books on the shelf. the little marks of bronze spraypaint on the desk you use now, the same desk you used for late night artscapades in the corner of your room in manila, reminiscent. the shapeshifting of the inanimate - cupboards doors floors and ceilings windows and blinds three layers of blankets - from familiar to unfamiliar, juxtaposing your mood accordingly. your bed in the top bunk that's almost never made, the bendy lamp that doesn't have a proper mount, the untouched notebooks at the bottom of your wardrobe.

maybe it's eshita telling you about the new boy she likes and how he was seeing someone but made a move on her, and she liked him; and how it reminds you of you. Don't get into the boat, you say, I'm in it and it's no fun at all. the ripples that become huge waves that make you seasick. he knows how to play with words. time is all he'll ever need. it will be better soon, i miss you, i haven't read in the longest time you used to make me read give me a list of some good books? he knows what words do to you. you told him. Forget me, you said, nineteen hours before depature.

maybe it's the battle with anxiety. the thought that your life isn't completely in your hands. the thought that any frustration now is and will ever be fruitless. the feeling of smallness. the little cry, It's all You. in the leaf-less trees and the sunny rain-clouded sky. in the cold wind that kisses my cheek. in the raindrops that find their place on my glasses. in the paint that is stuck in my fingernails, in the photographs i take with freezing but eager hands. in the silence. in the warmth that comes after i've been under the sheets for a while. under the wings of flying birds, in yellow and red leaves that still hang on and dance with the wind, under the wings of flying birds. in the school i will find myself in after two years. in the words i write. in the words love writes across seas and timezones and white screens. in yesterday, today, tomorrow, and the day after and an eternity after that. under the wings of flying birds.

----

(integrating the online identity because it's not good for me to keep all these incongruent web pages.)

21

i must announce that this twelfth day of november (it's the thirteenth now but i haven't slept, so) has been quite productive, despite the fact that i mixed up my timetable in my head and missed art class.

• covered leaf-shaped card with real fallen leaves (of the season, it's autumn), a tedious job with pva glue but moments like these give such homage to the domestic hairdryer!
• cutting card into leaf shapes is a whole different story, mainly of my right index finger's fingerpad slightly bruised due to the grip on the blade
  
• four pages of notes on two poems, a realization that my heart is in adoration of poetry, even though it never can confine itself to quatrains and rhymes and stanzas and lines
• ah even more productive-ness, an internal rhyme was just made in the last bullet point
• an organized ring binder
  
• seven hours of sleep on a weekday for the first time in a long time
• two real conversations with actual people in school today
• my excellent use of bullet points in this entry
• my actual entry existing
  

this isn't exactly of the twelfth of november, but it was yesterday afternoon and still deserves a bullet in this entry concerning productiveness:

• 

20

0011am. there is not much to say these eleven minutes past midnight. i got an online voucher for Waterstone's (a bookstore) today, and that makes me able to buy my own book this weekend. a book with my own money. i haven't done that in a while because i don't even get money here. but this week i happen to have  £6 and with my voucher, i can buy a book with that money.

so many ways to begin by jon mcgregor is a book i've been dying to read for a long time and two weekends ago i found it in a little corner of the bottom bookshelf. it was a wonderful moment finally being within vicinity of the book.

that said, i must link back to the excerpt i posted that is from his first book, if nobody speaks of remarkable things.

click here

please read it. it's beautiful.

i attempted to press a leaf with regular plastic the other day but failed. anyhow, i stuck it in my moleskine. it's a dark red now, but when i picked it up on the road it was a beautiful red orange, just fallen from a tree. without a scratch.

19

0009

can't deal

18

your (abridged) friday and (highly incredibly extremely super greatly diluted) melancholy:

---

the big picture today is 3 degrees celsius, with fleeting cold-caused headaches and 3-for-2 book offers. the big picture today is a mark of a year that has passed. from something to nothing. from struggle to acceptance. of delusion, of What If, of silence that gnaws at your insides, of fleeting lukewarm sparks of hope. from saving to surrendering. from moments to once-a-month. of I Cannot, of the irony of it all, of the great big contradiction of love and bitterness and pet names and everything else that comes in the shiny distracting alluring package of false tacky promise, of the fact that you have never read this part of the world wide web, ever.

cheers.

okay, i am really really decided this time. creative writing. and photography, somehow, hopefully already as an apprentice. please mr/ms professional. i will learn fast.

the decision of the former has been decided based on the residue of english literature that seeps from me as i write. it is doable, of course, and it is quite fun tearing literature apart to analyze it. but this once over-analytic mind knows the effects of such over-analytic-ness on her, and she really does not want to go back to it. complicates her life too much. let me be a kid.

today i found jon mcgregor's so many ways to begin. i stood in awe for a while, holding the book. a book i've been dying to read since i finished his first and found out about the second. it is without a doubt the first book i am going to buy once i have money. i will never forget the wonderful serendipity of finding jon mcgregor, how i scoured the A-Z Fiction shelves in Books Kinokuniya Singapore, how this book's cover caught my eye, how it was shelved wrongly but that didn't stop me from stumbling upon it.


how are you?

17

two and a half hours after midnight of the day i leave the country. i leave the house in one and a half hours. i'll take a shower, maybe a twenty-minute nap, then my bags into the rented van.

thank you everyone who wrote in the big card, thank you kev who drove around getting people to write in it, thank you people who tried to didn't wanted to meet up, i'm sorry i'm not good at organizing parties and keeping commitments and managing time oh how i wish i had more of it, thank you people of this last night, thank you maisee for leading, funny and brilliant how you led and reminisced at the same time,

do crash if you're in town.

16 - retrospect, a little and briefly

fifty-one minutes past midnight, fifty-one minutes past the last day in this country.

when change breathes this close to my face i am always silenced, always caught staring, always listening to the buzz in my head. i always look like i have nothing to say, but i do, i just get caught up in thinking about it or having conversations in my head or using every ounce of me to remember what's happening. to the people on monday night - i'm sorry all i could tangibly do was watch my fingers play with a packet of ketchup.

when change breathes this close to my face i always want to ask, How are you, What did you do today, What will you be doing tomorrow, Can you say you are happy?

what do you do when you're being pushed out the door while still trying to put the shoes on, still brushing your teeth, still looking into people's faces, still putting your earrings on, still trying to say what matters, still checking if you have everything in your bag, still counting your books, still writing a letter, still catching a breath?

it's an hour and six minutes past the last day now, and i am wondering how different it would have been if i hadn't spent a whole year being a hermit and putting my life on hold. would i have been drawn to the same people? would i be the same person that i am now? when Life started in summer 2007, then began these questions and the subsequent musing upon it. i have come to terms with the fact that that year of "putting life on hold" was a majestic momentous grand movement of introspection, which saw the end of my self then and saw the beginning of a renewed one.

somewhat ironic (and painful and wonderful) that this renewed one was to see the end of my self and was to see the beginning of an authentic one.

how many ends? how many peeled layers? an hour and eighteen minutes past the last day now; two thousand two hundred and thirty-two hours past the eighteenth year it's only been. no cookies for the one who can tell me how many more ends, unless you're the one who knows more than the apple does.

but you get a cookie if you know i'm terrified of these ends, if you know i'm excited about these ends... and two cookies if you're going to sit with me and these ends.

September 8, 2008 : CEBU - iii

yay for hidden beaches in hidden members-only resorts. for beautiful handicrafts that started as little treasure of the ocean. for cheap good spanish bread. for the laid back, cheerful cebuanos who beat you to asking if you can take their photo. for planes in the sky. for mr. crab, even though he couldn't climb out of the hole javi dug for an hour, for the dog on the edge of the blue boat. for little boats afloat in the sea. for a 30-peso hat and cheap shades and cheap pizza. for the coca-mangga concotion. for the Great Artist and His little exhibit in the sand, swept ashore by waves. for cool water pouncing on feet on a sunny day. for blue skies.

open your eyes and you'll see He's romancing you, too.

September 7, 2008 : CEBU - ii

not so many photos from the 7th because it was a busy busy day. that calmed down after an awesome massage. and i don't even like massages.

-

of old doorknobs and capiz windows, of the texture and color of old walls. of church bells and wooden art and a little bit of abstract. of street children that owned joy in abandon. of cobblestone streets and Magellan's cross. of the hustle and bustle outside the Sto Niño Church. of hip rapping dancing praying women. of glimpses of street life. of a different kind of church altar. of dinner up in the clouds (thankyou Tito). of the dessert bar that was worth more than actual dinner. of childhood stories and life lessons and laughter.

September 6, 2008: CEBU - i - SACSAA Induction Night

congratulations, Tito, i know this means a lot to you. :)

from seeing old friends meet, to silly faces, to Amazing Grace, the speech, and a round of drinks and singing.

yellow-y photos = javi playing with paper and flash diffuser

September 6, 2008: CEBU - i

the new terminal. a wrinkle in time. traveling nomads. a prophetic photo. "i'm like Google Earth!" setting foot, for the first time, on airport ground that wasn't in a building. "welcome to my Kingdom!" september 6. old-school dirty ice-cream. cheap jewelry. the banana glass. the taste and smell of sea air. the real kingdom of a home. children asking for a photo. tawa.

credit:
kath - 011-018, 142-153, 195-206, 266-275
tito prisco - 128, and the actual trip (!!!!)
javi - 021, 230-244

15

a new internet connection right in the comfort of my own room. yay.

i found a new bargain bookstore today.  i sat down against a bookshelf near the back and wasn't asked to leave. so i ended up staying for about an hour. i left with two books, a bunch of scribbled-down quotes, and only 448 pesos less in my wallet.

i am trying to write more often now because i want to remember my life. a few days ago i began. began pensieve-ing my memories before i forget them. i used present tense to make it more vivid. and i started from where i left off some one year and three months ago. remember this?


into the pensieve:

001.
the first night of pre-shepherding. i am in my white and green striped button-down shirt. i sulk in one side of the pew, staring at the marble floor. what am i doing here. what am i doing here. everyone seems to know each other except me, but i am used to that. pews fill up a little more and what they call worship begins. what are they feeling, raising their hands and standing up? i have seen this before in Living Word but i was too young to dwell on the thought. curious, but not particularly moved.

first topic - God's love. love. a sensitive topic that shoots me rudely back into vivid memories of singapore. this night is no different. in the first activity, my co-lamb, in a bright yellow shirt and multi-colored high-cut chuck taylors comes up to me and says Hi i'm Abbey! with open arms. her arms easily find her way around me and she says, God loves you! with the most cheerful disposition i have ever seen that doesn't border on obnoxious. i am glad she is my co-lamb.

that hug triggers the tear ducts. i spend the rest of the night holding them back with all my might.

in the flock circle everyone introduces themselves saying, " (name), YE(#)." my turn comes and i say, "adi, short for adrienne, and i um i don't know what YE is."

dear book-borrower: click. (edited)

i am looking for my book A Million Little Pieces by James Frey.
the last one i can remember borrowing it is paco and i know he passed it to someone else but i can't remember who. please return because it has to go into a brown cardboard box already.

and anyone else who has borrowed things, like a CD or a film or other books or jewelry or whatever... yeah. they gotta go.

packing's not fun.


edit:
another book i remember that's not with me (this list might be added to again) :
The Gospel Unplugged by Rich Wagner

14 point something

because i am getting reacquainted with momentary writing.

today i found You in my favorite author:

"So she had to satisfy herself with the idea of love – loving the loving of things whose existence she didn’t care at all about. Love itself became the object of her love. She loved herself in love, she loved loving love, as love loves loving, and was able, in that way, to reconcile herself with a world that fell so short of what she would have hoped for. It was not the world that was the great and saving lie, but her willingness to make it beautiful and fair, to live a once-removed life, in a world once-removed from the one in which everyone else seemed to exist."


expound tomorrow / when time permits

14

commemorating the get-my-blog-groove-back movement with an impulse post typed in the post box (i usually type in notepad, up in my room or somewhere quiet, on my laptop) !

a last-minute unconsciously-drain-kathy-meeting popped up at around 5:20 this afternoon and that found me staring out the glass wall of the PBCom Tower lobby at around 7:30pm. red luminated smudges on the rained-on cement. people rushing in cars. store signs piercing darkness. people rushing on foot. i missed seeing the night bustle of a city.

i slightly regret succumbing to my cough/cold and not being able to stay out all night with izz my last night in singapore. it was supposed to be a photo spree. conversation overflow. breakfast. zoom back to condo, shower, and then to airport.

although... the conversation by the pool was priceless. don't forget the pizza and fresh orange juice (which i sadly can't afford here, too expensive for a pack of juice eurgh).

today marks exactly six weeks left.

i am not sure if i should count down or generally keep track. i felt the same way october 2005. hello again, brown cardboard boxes and stretch tape and sticky tape. i am going to make it a point to design at least one box of my things this time. i haven't touched my spray paint cans in ages...

paula was brilliant last night and gave me a link to The Awesome Then-Unknown Song (click that) at the hillsong united concert last may. there is something so powerful about this. how he reads isaiah 53 with his voice breaking.

13

august 9, 4:21pm: "but i want to see You in me too."

august 9, 11:46pm: i didn't know You would answer this fast.

12

what do you do when you see you and don't know how to explain you?
what do you do when your life "is a result of" instead of "is" ?

maybe You will tell me in london.

prone to random (understatement) bouts of shocking unfamiliarity. i am starting to notice a pattern here, because this is happening again and i am writing again and i am leaving in eight weeks.

don't let it be a pattern, please. i don't want to lose sight of You anymore. i've found You everywhere. but i want to see You in me too.

make me over.

July 19, 2008 : Monroe at AMP - Rites of Passage

Kampai, Katipunan.

towards the evening that day i was kind of losing enthusiasm to go, but in the end i was glad i came, monroe was great. yay. record na kase so i can take your EPs to london, hahaha.

NICOLE KRAUSS / The History of Love

Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering. When they were ten he asked her to marry him. When they were eleven he kissed her for the first time. When they were thirteen they got into a fight and for three weeks they didn't talk. When they were fifteen she showed him the scar on her left breast.

Their love was a secret they told no one. He promised her he would never love another girl as long as he lived. What if I die? she asked. Even then, he said. For her sixteenth birthday he gave her an English dictionary and together they learned the words. What's this? he'd ask, tracing his index finger around her ankle, and she'd look up. And this? he'd ask, kissing her elbow. Elbow! What kind of word is that? and then he'd lick it, making her giggle. What about this? he asked, touching the soft skin behind her ear. I don't know, she said, turning off the flashlight and rolling over, with a sigh, onto her back.

When they were seventeen they made love for the first time, on a bed of straw in a shed. Later -- when things happened that they could never have imagined -- she wrote him a letter that said: When will you learn that there isn't a word for everything?








(sigh someone please help me find the black hardcover edition of this book.)

July 12, 2008 : ZHGMES Back-to-School Drive

as usual, kids own. but i really struggled with the camera on this day because the automatic settings were always overexposed and it was hard to toggle for manual. some photos are either oozing pathetic-attempt-at-saving-on-photoshop or blur or like really weird colors. sorry meggie :(

photos starting from the van leaving (which i was in) are jarro's or whoever else's. hahah.

11

0030hrs

right now i am the only one awake. God surprised me in the psalm today. very funny, ah. by the river sitting and weeping. thank You. and thank You for me actually writing right now. today i will keep track of all my greetings and i will store them somewhere (i love Google).

right now a wave of nostalgia and missing brings me to tears. an old friend just greeted. a few hours ago, another friend who i don't really talk to anymore because of friction. jacs made sure he had load all the way in bicol and stayed up to greet. katrise stayed up to greet me though she was beat from basketball; and she wants to ride a cow.

hello, nostalgia. i spend a lot of time looking back, but today being the day it is makes it a little more of a milestone. let's try something impossible (and something i would not want to happen) :

--

dear adi,

this is you writing exactly a year from the day you read this. happy seventeenth birthday. no one ever said anything special about this age but for you, it will be. the change that you realize today as you frantically try to clear your inbox for the incoming messages it doens't have the space for (under the desk on an early drowsy school morning, no less) - which embraces you with the fact that you have found a home here, no matter how strange-feeling right now - is only the beginning.

a few days from today you will find a person you think you can share your life with completely, and give your heart to. you will, for the first time, experience the sincerity in being called another's. you will experience a novel embrace. you will also find out that some things are not as real as they seem, not as real as they are claimed to be. and that will nullify the previous sentences. you will experience absence eating at your insides. you will find that you are not strong, that you cannot save everything despite only the most sincere intentions, that there are some things that you have to lay down at the feet of the One bigger than you.

but you will also find another couple of hearts you think you can share your life with completely, and give your heart to. and this time round, you really can. and you will see dreams be realized. you will be your dream while you wait for it to be realized. you will watch the most amazing love story unfold. you will witness miracles. you will follow breadcrumbs. you will see how deep roots can go. you will realize that it's true what has been said, that spirit is thicker than blood. you will see light dance.

this time round, adi, you will find the Home that you don't have to leave.

this time round, adi, you can take heart and not have to hide it. you can love and dream fiercely and not have to cover it up in hope denied, in frustration exaggerated, in melancholy downed. this time round... you can begin to be.

and oh yeah, the green ribbon in your hair will be noticed today.

--

a while ago, i asked for opened eyes so i could love today.

0103 hrs

May 25, 2008 : SJRM Medical Mission III

it's hilarious that "tule at smol bukol" was actually on the tarpaulin.

some photos are javi's. some jarro's. the clever shades-filtered photos are regner's.

10

i have forgotten how to write, i think. that first sentence was just so i could actually get started. in the past me keeping a journal was like me throwing a bomb high into the air so it wouldn't explode in my face. was like anna nalick singing, "if i get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me threatening the life it belongs to."

oh, i used to thrive on that. the melancholia of it all - sitting with my laptop either on my desk or on my bed, in the dark. crying, most of the time. dissecting each part of the sadness. examining each detail of it (imagine how shocked i was to read that jonathan safran foer had done the same thing in "everything is illuminated". the one that spoke to me most was the branch 'sadnesses of the intellect'). i used to wait for it. provoke it. make it surface. because it was the only way i felt real, the only way i felt like i could feel. through pain. because the opposite of it seemed too inconsistent to be more than a dream, a memory tucked away, a fleeting reality.

but now i find myself finding truth on the other side of the spectrum. and this time the only thing that makes it seem like a dream, a memory tucked away, a fleeting reality.. is my dwelling in the void of what has passed. what is gone. is the defense mechanism of only hoping like crazy on the inside - so deep inside that it is easily denied. no, this can't happen to me. no, this is too good to be true. no... why do i and what did i do to deserve that.

dear adrienne,
hope like crazy on the outside.

on the outside. i have yet to discover how to articulate the moments on the lighter side of the spectrum that have my name on it. expressing it makes it more real. affirms that i experienced it instead of just witnessed it. maybe write like i used to. like a child. with glitter pens and drawings and emphasized words.

last week i was ripped of two things: a part of home, and my physical home. i spent a week up north at my cousins' house, much against my will at first. the turn of events before that tuesday i left for cubao left me too spent, too empty. but the trip to cubao was happening. i dumped a handful of clothes into a bag. packing my art things and laptop to bring there oddly made me feel a little better. i introduced my cousins to the YE 6 mix we made and that made things lighter. an angel told me, "SEEK GOD ADI. He alone can save you. Man will always be imperfect. God is pulling you aside because He wants you for Himself."

so i laid everything down.

the week up north was spent on Heroes, card games, conversations over big bowls of cereal at 3am in the morning, waking up in time for lunch, mothers' day with 4 different kinds of cake, and then

this deserves its own paragraph - a part of home given back. an answered prayer. a realization of trust in the unseen, in the about-to-become. a realization that i have to believe in what i give. in what i feel i am, with no buts, no maybes. in the fact that when i deny myself, i deny Someone much bigger than me.

another that deserves its own paragraph - finally putting paint out of its tubes and cans, and not even using my head to do it. not at any point did i stop to think what to do next, it was like my hands knew what to do. bronze on black. out go red, orange and yellow paint tubes. bible reference. everything was just a giant wave and i felt like i was sitting back, a mere witness to it all.

and after that, like those last two paragraphs were the purpose and end of being uprooted.. one last conversation over cereal at 3am, 7 hours of sleep, painted nails, and then home down south.

dear adrienne,
believe in what you are.

--

hillsong concert experience in 12 days. singapore nostalgia turned into reality in 31. legal and should be at least allowed to drink wine with my grandfather (* !!) SLASH LSS weekend as a servant in 44. i am STOKED.

i pray that ireland does not push through early. i would love to spend at least one more Christmas here. see a little bit more of the country, discover something hidden. unearth something bright. do something to prepare me for the arts in college. i would love to breathe in all of this just a little bit more. see just a little bit more.

(*) i would love paint. really. one tube of good paint will make me ecstatic. and any kind of medium to lay it down on - a block of wood, illustration board, a sketch pad. a wall, anyone? that beautiful greenleather-bound blank-paged diary in Fully Booked which very sadly costs a bomb. black pens (Standard AE-7 Tecno). i need a bible, also. a donation to the Get Adi Her Own Holga (Or Colorsplash) fund. what i would love most is a letter. a good conversation. time with you. some sort of getaway. something sincere. something that will make the sentimental sapfest in me surface.

p.s. i forgot to mention spray paint. and thin cardboard so i can make stencils. heh heh.

the film quote game

I had to do this. I keep A LOT of quotes in my head.



* Pick 15 of your favorite movies. (okay so i threw this rule away.)
* Go to imdb and find a quote for each movie.
* Post them here for everyone to guess.
* Strike it out when someone guesses correctly, and put who guessed it FIRST and the movie.
* No googling/using IMDB search functions

---------------------------------------------------------------
1.
Dead Poets Society
(kath)

1 : You take a big risk by encouraging them to be artists <2>. When they realize they're not Rembrandts, Shakespeares or Mozarts, they'll hate you for it.
2 : We're not talking artists <1>, we're talking free thinkers.
1 : Free thinkers at seventeen?
2 : Funny, I never pegged you as a cynic.
1 : Not a cynic, a realist. Show me the heart unfettered by foolish dreams, and I'll show you a happy man.
2 : But only in their dreams can man be truly free. 'Twas always thus, and always thus will be.
1 : Tennyson?
2 : No, <2>.

------------------------

2.
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
(sarah)

Meet me in Montauk.

------------------------
3.
Big Fish
(miel)

That was my father's final joke, I guess. The man tells his stories so many times that he becomes the stories. They live on after him. And in that way, he becomes immortal.

------------------------
4.
Girl, Interrupted
(nina)

1: Take one fuckin' step and I'll jam this in my aorta. [aiming a pen at her neck]
2 : <1>, your aorta is in your chest.
1: [snaps the pen closed] Good to know.

------------------------
5.
Love, Actually
(miel)

Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion's starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don't see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often it's not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it's always there - fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends. When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge - they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I've got a sneaky feeling you'll find that love actually is all around.

------------------------
6.
American Beauty
(sijing)

It was one of those days when it's a minute away from snowing and there's this electricity in the air, you can almost hear it. And this bag was, like, dancing with me. Like a little kid begging me to play with it. For fifteen minutes. And that's the day I realized there was this entire life behind things, and... this incredibly benevolent force, that wanted me to know there was no reason to be afraid, ever. Video's a poor excuse, I know. But it helps me remember... and I need to remember... Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world I feel like I can't take it, like my heart's going to cave in.

------------------------
7.
Toy Story
(miel)

DON'T YOU GET IT?!? [points to a doll's hat on his head] YOU SEE THE HAT?!?
I AM -- MRS. -- NESBITT!!! [maniacal laughter]

------------------------
8.
Finding Neverland
(sam)

1 : This is absurd. It's just a dog.
2 : Just a dog? Porthos dreams of being a bear, and you want to shatter those dreams by saying he's just a dog? What a horrible candle-snuffing word. That's like saying, "He can't climb that mountain, he's just a man", or "That's not a diamond, it's just a rock." Just.

------------------------
9.

It's all in the grind, Sizemore. Can't be too fine, can't be too coarse. This, my friend, is a science. I mean, you're looking at the guy who believed the commercials, you know, about "Be all you can be." I made coffee through Desert Storm. I made coffee through Panama while everyone else got to fight, got to be a Ranger. Now it's "Grimesy, black, one sugar" or "Grimesy, got a powdered anywhere?"

------------------------
10.
The Breakfast Club
(nina)

1: Go away! [2 hesitantly leaves her be.] You have problems.
2: Oh, I have problems?
1: You do everything everyone ever tells you to do! That is a problem!
2: Okay, fine. But I didn't dump my bag on the couch and invite everyone into my problems. [He begins to approach her again.] Did I? Now, tell me. What's wrong? Is it bad? Really bad? Parents?
[A moment passes silently.]
1: (softly) Yeah.
2: What do they do to you?
1: (hesitantly) They ignore me.

------------------------
11.
Closer
(liana)

It's a lie. It's a bunch of sad strangers photographed beautifully, and... all the glittering assholes who appreciate art say it's beautiful 'cause that's what they wanna see. But the people in the photos are sad, and alone... But the pictures make the world seem beautiful, so... the exhibition is reassuring which makes it a lie, and everyone loves a big fat lie.

------------------------
12.
A.I. Artificial Intelligence
(miel)

The greatest single human gift - the ability to chase down our dreams.

------------------------
13.
Pay It Forward
(nina)

I guess it's hard for people who are so used to things the way they are - even if they're bad - to change. 'Cause they kind of give up. And when they do, everybody kind of loses.

------------------------
14.
The Kid
(nina)

So, I'm forty, I'm not married, I don't fly jets, and I don't have a dog? I grow up to be a loser!

------------------------
15.
Moulin Rouge!
(miel)

The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.

------------------------
16.
Little Miss Sunshine
(miel)

You know what? Fuck beauty contests. Life is one fucking beauty contest after another. School, then college, then work... Fuck that. And fuck the Air Force Academy. If I want to fly, I'll find a way to fly. You do what you love, and fuck the rest.

------------------------
17.
Fight Club
(sijing)

Sticking feathers up your butt does not make you a chicken.

------------------------
18.

Right, you daughter! I have your asshole here!

------------------------
19.
Mona Lisa Smile
(kath)

I thought that I was headed to a place that would turn out tomorrow's leaders, not their wives.

------------------------
20.
Everything Is Illuminated
(nina)

[Refering to the dog] This is Sammy Davis Jr. Jr... She is Grandfather's Seeing Eye bitch. Father purchased her for him not because he believes Grandfather is blind, but because a Seeing Eye bitch is also a good thing for people who pine for the opposite of loneliness. In truth, Father did not purchase her at all, but merely retrieved her from the home for forgetful dogs. Because of this, she is not a real Seeing Eye bitch, and is also mentally deranged.

------------------------
21.

1: Now that we've met again, we can change our memory of that December 16th. It no longer has that sad ending of us never seeing each other again! Right?
2 : Right.
1: I guess a memory is never finished.
2 : So long as you're alive...

------------------------
22.
The Matrix

(jr & joey)

There is no spoon.

------------------------
23.
The Hours
(sam)

Dear Leonard. To look life in the face. Always to look life in the face and to know it for what it is. At last to know it. To love it for what it is, and then, to put it away. Leonard. Always the years between us. Always the years. Always the love. Always the hours.

------------------------
24.

1 : I pray you're well. I pray I'm in your thoughts. You are all that keeps me from sliding into some dark place.
2 : But how did I keep you? We barely knew each other. A few moments --
3 : A thousand moments! They're like a bag of tiny diamonds glittering in a black heart. Don't matter if they're real or things I made up. The shape of your neck. The way you felt under my hands when I pulled you to me.

April 27, 2008 : SJRM Medical Mission II

i never get sick taking photos of children.

p.s. my first time using a nikon D40x (thank you thank you meggie!!) and MAN i barely had to edit to enhance the color.

some photos in the beginning are by jarro. last bunch of photos are javi's.

April 20, 2008 : YOUTH ENCOUNTER VI - iii

FINAL DAY of the intense serving experience.

sunday was my day of the whole weekend. tehila was my moment of the whole weekend - THANK YOU REG for getting this on camera.

a lack of sleep, the drastic changes in temperature, and general physical exhaustion robbed me of my voice and by sunday morning, i could barely be understood talking. the last part of tehila came, and we were told to put down cameras. i had distracted myself by taking photos, so i wouldn't have to stand there and remember that i couldn't sing.

the moment music started playing again - "the enemy has been defeated, death couldn't hold You down" - i broke. it was like the whole experience throughout the weekend built up to that one moment where i tried to sing. i begged and cried for a voice, even a bit of it, so i could sing. sing to Him. tell Him how much all this - what He's given me, what He's laid at my feet - means to me.

at that moment i knew i had been changed. from that girl who sulked to herself in a side of a pew at the first pre-shepherding session of LSS summer 2007, to now, arms raised high and crying. i knew then that this was really home. "memorize it, adi," kathy whispered into my ear. "remember it. never forget it. and you will carry this in your heart."

"and where ever you go, you will find home."

perhaps God took my voice then so i could really sing to Him. so i could sing from my heart.

April 19, 2008 : YOUTH ENCOUNTER VI - ii

DAY TWO of intense service experience.

as usual, we start the day with kev making love to the camera. :D photos from garden are justine's. circle and class photos are here too.

April 18, 2008 : YOUTH ENCOUNTER VI - i

DAY ONE of the intense experience of service.

i didn't take most of the photos in the evening. and obviously i did not take the photos of katrise near the end. and there were about 10 more photos of the same foot, i had to delete some of them, sorry jav, hah.

09

my dad cleaned up the hard drive yesterday and something happened to my account firefox, photoshop and yahoo messenger wouldn't work and when i opened yahoo messenger from program files the program rebooted all my conversations are gone i think a part of me just died.

March 29 - 30, 2008 : YE 5 Fundraiser

garage sale slash underground bake sale.
i didn't take most of the photos, hahah.

credit to liana, sarah, javi, jarro. i'm too lazy to label them all. yuh.

April 2, 2008 : Graduation Ball

like, 60 photos or something. it was that boring. i can't believe i paid PHP2400, got dressed up and begged my dad to let me bring the camera for this.

March 30, 2008 : SJRM Medical Mission

Barangay Health Center (beside post office in the St. Jerome Church area). first come first serve, hauled in 300 people - mostly children - for free check-ups and pharmacy services.

we need manpower and donations - why stop at 300 if we have more generous hearts to accommodate them? we need LIFE - there were a lot of kids today, they really lit up when we started giving them attention.

if you weren't here this time, this program will be on until november 2008, every last sunday of the month. :)

March 19, 2008 : Intramusday

or Wedstramuros. Wenztramuros. or whatever. basta it was a Wednesday and i finally set foot in Intramuros. yeah... i'm that much of a foreigner.

starbucks before and after. the adorable, domed, stone-walled starbucks in the morning.

in Manila Cathedral we met Ken Weber, a keyboardist whose passion flew him all the way from the United States to the very hot Philippines. "I read about this pipe ogran on the Internet and I knew I just HAD to play it," he said, with much fervor.

walked around the Walled City. vintage architecture (evinced in photos, i need to learn how to stand straight), antique shops and museums, stone roads and brick walls. art oozed into as far as toilet cubicles. a (probably crazy) man looking through a hole in the wall.

opening secluded doors, going through windows, there IS air, you will NOT die (hahaha) ! the sound a horse's hooves make. the kalesa man in checkered green and yellow who knew the city like a well-read book. "To foretell the destiny of a nation, it is necessary to open the book that tells of her past," Jose Rizal wrote.

thank you for adopting me for a day, kath. love.

March 15, 2008 : I'm No Moses (day 1)

1) obviously these photos were on joey's album first
2) please donate to the Get Adi a 400D drive
3) spot the difference between the originals and the tweaked
4) the one photo not here is in abundance (hahaha) in the Kevin Mayuga Face Challenge album
5) this weekend was fantastique
6) most of these are sequences
7) see #2

YOUTH ENCOUNTER 6

VIEW BROCHURE

(APPLICATION FORM ATTACHED)

deadlineof submission of application forms and payment is on April 7.
first come, first serve! so the sooner you submit and pay, the better.


i'm telling you, this experience is worth it.

Attachment: YE Application Form.doc

CONSTANTINE CAVAFY / Ithaca

When you set out on your journey to Ithaca,
pray that the road is long,
full of adventure, full of knowledge.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the angry Poseidon -- do not fear them:
You will never find such as these on your path,
if your thoughts remain lofty, if a fine
emotion touches your spirit and your body.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the fierce Poseidon you will never encounter,
if you do not carry them within your soul,
if your soul does not set them up before you.

Pray that the road is long.
That the summer mornings are many, when,
with such pleasure, with such joy
you will enter ports seen for the first time;
stop at Phoenician markets,
and purchase fine merchandise,
mother-of-pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
and sensual perfumes of all kinds,
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
visit many Egyptian cities,
to learn and learn from scholars.

Always keep Ithaca in your mind.
To arrive there is your ultimate goal.
But do not hurry the voyage at all.
It is better to let it last for many years;
and to anchor at the island when you are old,
rich with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting that Ithaca will offer you riches.
Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage.
Without her you would have never set out on the road.
She has nothing more to give you.

And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not deceived you.
Wise as you have become, with so much experience,
you must already have understood what Ithacas mean.




--

i looked up the origin of the word/name "Ithaca" and there were several interpretations. i found it rather beautiful that how i interpreted the poem resonated with this one:

the Greek adjective "ithys" which means "straight" (or, metaphorically, just or true)

and that the last line of the poem affirmed it.

i bought paulo coelho's "the zahir" (where i discovered this poem) yesterday, after finally finishing "by the river piedra i sat down and wept" last friday. there was a reason why i stopped reading it halfway almost five months ago. i would have never appreciated this poem if things hadn't turned out the way they had last week to today. last week up to today has been the only light of this year so far. i pray that it sticks around.

March 8, 2008 : Teach Out!

at Zenaida H. Gaña Memorial Elementary School
in Dasmariñas, Cavite.

there's a nice feeling that comes out of the end of these activities. it makes itself known when we're about to part. what they show in asking for your cellphone number. in asking where they can see the photos. in their expression of goodbyes is something that tells us, Thank you. we loved having you here. it's a nice feeling.

photo credit:
D - dru
j - javi
G - gian
J - jarro
R - ren

February 29. 2008 : Threshold 2008

can anyone say, BAD MUSIC? or bad DJ. or whatever. basta it was crap.
most of the time, i didn't even look through the viewfinder to take a photo, so pardon the bad framing and sometimes out-of-focus subjects. meh.

credit: C = cara

the memory thing: a second life

give the sad little girl a break.

decided to do this because it's fun dropping random memories into others' blogs. and i got caught up reading memories of other people. if you think about it, a single thing happens a million times. each experience is different to another. it is remembered differently. our one life is given a new dimension every time someone else recounts or reminisces about the same thing. all this breathes, into our one life, a second one.


so, only you can tell me. what's my second life like?

08

departure: june - july 2008

07

i am not strong. i feel i have a lot more to say but perhaps mental exhaustion is hindering me. or other kinds of exhaustion. anything after this will be reduced to brief sentences or fragements. i miss grey's anatomy. why can't i write as much as i used to? bounce back bounce back bounce back. departure in roughly seven. eight or nine, give or take a few. how? vonnegut says time is water. books i need: dr seuss' "oh, the places you'll go!" and tom robbins' "still life with a woodpecker". how do you know whether to stop or keep trying to break the wall? for you, a thousand times over. singapore in march. alone and free and i can't wait. please be better than everything else has been lately. be still, please, be still be still be still

December 31, 2007 : because children make the best subjects II

cousins on mother's side (except for the girl in the last three photos, she just came up to me from nowhere and started a conversation). from one of the many family gatherings in december; i wasn't feeling that great, it's amazing how much lighter i felt when i got hold of the camera.

January 11, 2008: School Miscellaneous

in-betweens, filipino exam free time, and aftermath of quarter exams; Dramafest shoot outtakes.

as you may have noticed tammi dominates the photos if you hold a camera in the same room as her.

credit:
C - cara
M - miguel f

January 11, 2008 : for Dramafest