I Went Out and Saw…Ghosts

What makes people people?

Being privileged could sometimes be a matter of perspective. Some argue it’s always. Counting your blessings and curses and seeing that the good stuff outweighs the bad could make one feel privileged somehow. And yet do we really count our blessings or is it just advice we give to comfort people who are on the brink of tying their nooses?

More often than not, I find myself questioning everything, and the meaning behind anything at all. Are there aliens? What happens to you after you get sucked by a black hole? How big could an anus get? Is there a life after death or do I just get reincarnated into a microbe? Don’t you tell me I’m alone in using such questions for self-interrogation. Anyway, I asked the first question in this post because of one true experience.

Days ago, I braved myself to see the world. Yes, I actually went out of the house. And not only that, I went to the busiest portion of the city where the majority of the people you’d see are the dirt poor.

Financially.

I thought at first it’s only the lack of financial prosperity, but when I looked closer I saw that the saddest thing is not how shabbily they dress, not even how they work in a space where you can literally smell the scent of shit wafting constantly, not even when I never saw these people give out a genuine smile to another person, no. I’m okay with a non-smiling person most times–I do that a lot myself. It’s the way they look at nothing, the nothingness of space, with eyes that reflect exactly that.

I thought I was not seeing people but their ghosts.

Not that I actually know how real ghosts look like. I still don’t know whether I’m lucky or not for that but I know seeing one would spook me out. So, determined to prove I was not in the ghost plane, I poked the watch repairman.

I actually touched something solid! But then he turned to me with those eyes. Nothing changed; it’s as hollow as ever.

That day, poverty stared at me. And I looked back.

So…

What makes people people? I don’t know, but despair seems to be a part of it. At least if those creatures I saw are actually people. Heh, I know they are–despair had already been an acquaintance to me, too.

But what I saw was already an excess.

I never intended to count my blessings. Forcing myself to look at reality that day made me do it nonetheless. Money is already a part of humanity, but we shouldn’t let it get the best of us. I know I am more privileged than some of those people–that I could still eat three times and even have some spare time to blog–so it’s easier for me to say that. Maybe. But I won’t take it back.

If it’s any consolation, people who have lots of money never escape despair either. It’s part of not just humanity, but of life. The earth despaired when Michael Jackson died (it did!), mama turtle despaired when a heron ate her newly-hatched turtling (or she didn’t because she wasn’t even there).

What I’m saying is, it’s normal to feel despair. But we should not let it defeat us because as long as you’re still [technically] alive you’ve got a shot at changing things. Yes, even the whole miserable condition you are living now.

Even despair.

It just really pains me seeing people, even total strangers, look at the world with those empty eyes. Is life really such a dreary phenomenon for them? It’s all such a waste. We don’t have the certainty of another life except this one we currently have. You might believe in an all-powerful benefactor or not but you’ve got to admit that life is a gift–one that doesn’t last. So I don’t really see the point of living it like you’d rather be dead.

All of us–rich, poor, ugly, beautiful, black, white, yellow, red, straight, crooked–are vulnerable to despair. But it’s up to you to wallow in it. Or you could always choose to look at the lighter side and might actually be happy.

And then, it might only be my perspective…

Five Candles

16 October 2012, 05:00 am

A red manila envelope would define her future – inside it were cases and documents required for her to take the National Board Examinations. For four years she protected it from typhoons, earthquakes, and the clumsy version of her self. For years it was safe, that is. Until now.

17 October 2012, 11:17 am

In a cloud of Desperation (or maybe of Superstition) she sought the assistance of a card reader. No, not that computer – related thing; that real, breathing, intimidating Card Reader who smokes not a mixture of special herbs harvested while naked on the thirteenth hour of the full moon, but rather a popular brand of cigarette. The cigarette-smoking Card Reader asked her to make three wishes, and after much shuffling and decking told her that the cards said yes to all three. And more importantly, that the lost thing could be found only within the home. She left, maybe even getting what she unknowingly sought then – Hope. Or maybe its dregs. Nobody could tell.

17 October 2012, 06:54 pm

The house was turned upside down and six people were bathed in dust, sweat, termites, and ant droppings. No red envelope was found. All of Hope’s dregs the Card Reader provided was blown with the dust. And in her room, she collapsed.

***

She  asked for everyone’s help but one. That one who never disappointed her before. The  One who never leaves, who always hears.  In that point  where Hope’s absence was so strongly felt, where she could finally see a part of the future she pictured dissolve in the big screen of her mind, she asked for help. Begged for it in fact; for the kind of help wherein   one acknowledges reality and merely asked for strength to accept it. She begged for  Hope, to be never left alone. The whole phenomenon  may be true only to her; the closest picture that her mind could offer us was in that precise moment, she felt embraced. Comforted. At peace. That’s when true tears came, and this time, not for Sorrow.

17 October 2012, 08:43 pm

The Church of the Black  Nazarene  is situated in the busiest section of the city. Rich, poor, young, old, with shoes, without – everyone passes there, each dropping a prayer or two. All were heard. All were answered; and if an answer was received, it is now a question only the intended recipient knows how to answer.

In that place, five candles were lit. The light was warm. It lasted.

18 October 2012

Back to the routine, the usual grind, one could only try to act “normal”. She went to buy the daily dose of caffeine at the nearest grocer. there, she asked the guard a question so randomly one could suspect she went there to ask and not to buy.

“Hi! Did you happen to see a red envelope? Maybe it was left here?“

He then turned to look at something partly hidden behind a helmet placed next to the coffee machine. It was something red. Right then, the question was answered.

***

That afternoon back in The Place,  five candles were lit. The light was warm. It lasts.

“Some of your people there in Babylonia are fortunetellers, and you have asked them what will happen in the future. But they will only lead you astray…I will bless you with a future filled with success, not of suffering. You will turn back to me and ask for help, and I will answer your prayers.“

Jeremiah 29:8,11-12

:)

Again, music saved me.

Listened to this and I know I have to get out of this rut.

A new day begins.

J to J – A Soliloquy

(Or why you are not meant to tap your own back)

Hiya No. 1!

I didn’t think you could do it, never expected you to. Why, you tried it only once before and it sucked and I know why you think you shouldn’t do it again. I do, too. But you decided to just do it; decided to just get on and write that stupid short story – that one about some baby from hell type of flippertwit.

Again, idiocy reigned.

And blast me twice, but you’ve really finished what you set out to do this time. Why, you even made an awful series out of that rubbish!

Hahahahahahaha!

I know this wouldn’t sound much of a success to anyone but you, now don’t give me that face you know it’s the truth! But well, yes, I believe it was really an achievement for you. And I’m proud of what you’ve done. Oh come on, I mean it! I know how you didn’t have enough guts to do it; all for a number of stupid reasons if you ask me.

They’re not stupid? Pfft! Not having an English degree, not being a native speaker, inability to fluently describe what an adverb is or to distinguish who from whom, too lazy to be any good with deadlines – how are these reasons not stupid enough?! And don’t even tell me you believe those bona fide writers really know what’s different from who to whom except the letter M.

Now you believe me? Well, of course I’m proud of you, moron. I know it’s not easy to let the world know how much of an idiot you are. And it really wasn’t so bad, was it? I mean the whole experience. After all, it made you happy. And it’s great fun to stop pretending to be smart and sensible and just let out the idiocy within sometimes.

So there you have it. I just wanted to say, “Well done!” and “Don’t get used to it because I know what you have to do come the third week of this month!”

*Evil laugh time*

Mm, is this the part where I say, “It’s not you, it’s me”? No? Fine, fine.

How about bye, then?

Your amazing-er self,

No. 2

*VII. Finale

“Final Kiss” by Landix (Click to view full image)

“Now, now you heard it,

Tales most far from sweet,

Her music gentle, clear,

Yet each note hides a tear,

From Great West to Far East,

Rough North, Treach’rous South,

Where songs begin, nurtured,

Melody she sings to you now.

You may or may not believe,

She only speaketh what she sees;

No friends, enemies, allies, or foes,

The Wind simply exists -

To collect mem’ries long forgotten,

Tales without her would’bin lost,

An’ when End arrives she’ll bring it,

To Time, waiting on his post.

But End still lies in slumber,

The World sees not his face,

But you, m’dear, have met him,

Now you must leave this place.

So hold my hand now, don’t fear,

For I am only Death,

To other worlds we’ll venture,

A new tale you must set.”

*VI. Juan’s Dream

This gallery contains 1 photo.

There are people you notice, and there are those whom backgrounds just tend to swallow. Perhaps if in one particular background a crime took place in which you happened to bear witness, then asked by the authorities to describe in full detail what you have seen, you would unintentionally left out these people from your …

Fun! Fun! Great Fun!

What is?

Well, very amateur RECORDING, that is!

You see, it’s been a real treat to record these nonsensical flippertwits I made up for my stories.

1.Nika’s Song (TotWK: Music Box)

2.Nika’s Mum’s Song (TotWK: Music Box)

3.Devil’s Child Chant (TotWK: Devil’s Child)***

4.Song of a Gypsy Woman (TotWK: ______)

The third one‘s got to be my favorite!

HAHAHAHAHA!

Heed this warning, loves: one has a COCK crowing in the background, one is a SPOILER, and my favorite is a REAL PAIN in the ears. But it fits, seeing as it’s dedicated to one blogger who happened to call me a witch. You know who you are (clue: initials= T.B. and a charming idiot, but at least a real genius in the field – not of being charming, but idiocy). This idiot also likes all things M – like Moose and Miley cyrus – and Me, as well.

Now seriously.

I just wanted to ask you if you know how to pronounce this: “Cthulhu“? You don’t? Me too. Now I really have to agree – Neil Gaiman‘s probably got the world’s largest octopus head.

You take care, you.

‘Til then, J

*Prelude

“Like Seasons eternal,

An’ folks’ come’s and go’s,

Each story will soon one day unfold,

Just as houses’ timid hushes,

An’ old graveyards ling’ring voices,

Each an’ every thing has a tale to be told

An’ as Time’s the One True Constant,

All else Change’s humble servants,

Now’s fairly not when

I’m a’ tellin my own

But let’s lean back, stay still,

Eye the Moon’s subtle beam,

An’ listen as the Wind’s gentle kiss,

Brings back the world’s preserved tears.”

Featuring: Yiruma – River Flows In You

Been listening and trying to play this day and night. To say that I love this would be an understatement. *sigh*

Do, do, do listen to/watch it on Youtube:

Yiruma – River Flows in You

*image credits*

Beyond The Horizon

Sunrise at White Island, Camiguin, Philippines

I’m a speck in the sand

But still I am something

Weathering the sun,

Resisting the waves

Oh yes, I exist

The beatings I’ve had

It does make me mad

Though I labored to forgive

It’s not easy to give

All I thought was escape

Even nonexistence I sought

I almost went with the waves

Once I’ve always tried to fought

But the sun still shines,

People kept coming,

A child was born,

Reminding us of morn

Where love is pure,

Efforts are blessed

Affections returned

And the sun and the sea meet

*audio here*

An Open Letter

Just one look at you. That’s all it ever takes to remind me how beautiful life is.

You can’t blame me. The way you tamed me with your gentleness is a feat I thought unattainable. No, I don’t love everything about you. I hate it how easily you fall asleep as our passion ebbs. But I love it how you make certain I’m attached to your body, that close, before you go to Morpheus’ realm.

I never thought I could be this lucky. If I should be honest, I never really thought we could last this long – 4 months is the longest I’ve given us. But look how it turned out.

All those times, the bad and the good, I will cherish until my end. I am scared, frightened, paralyzed to death we might lose our love for each other. If someone will ask me what I am most afraid of then that should be it; that we could become strangers again. And that we will never find our way back.

Still I don’t let this thought cripple me, again, thanks to you. You’re always the positive one, telling me the absurdity of this paranoia because as long as I don’t give up on you then we’ll always be together.

But what if you would give up on me?

That’s what sends shiver down my spine, heck, my whole being to be exact. But you just lure me to your embrace and say it will never happen. Ah! The naiveté. That’s what draws me into you, I think. I could use an extra dose of that, considering where I come from.

Yet the idea that you could never be The One looms in the air – for how could I have been so lucky to find my one, true love at such a young age? And if that’s not enough, my one true love actually loves me back, if not even more?

People have used, some have wasted, many years of their lives waiting. Constantly, consciously or not, searching for a love like ours. Many are still yet to find it. More have already given up. I think of these people and it breaks my heart, but not because of any noble thought. No, it was rather driven by selfishness – for I believe I will end up just like them if ever I will lose you.

“But you wont”, that’s what you would say.

Ha! I know. I know.

Doing What You Love + One Giant Ice Cream of Humanity for All – Temptation at Its Finest

For 4 years I have committed my life to finishing a course I don’t have the passion with – in the beginning at least. Unexpectedly, I developed an inveterate sense of affection and respect for what I have been studying.

But affection and respect are different from passion.

Some people find their passions in discovering things. Some on putting things together. Some on collecting things. Some on destroying things. And undeniably, some on controlling things.

Mine was to create.

It is my passion to create something beautiful to add to this world – although I have accepted the fact that it would be sublime for some, refuse for others. I have this naïve belief that the world is still a beautiful place and we people only need a reminder of that, seeing as we have been forced to eat nihilism in the hands of the all-powerful media (watch the TV and you’ll get I’m saying).

Thus, as the stars and my own selection would have it, I have been creating: modest ideas to share with others, music to soothe their senses (and massacre others’ tympanic membranes), ”edible” food (though the only person willing to eat it was yours truly), a better, imperfect person within to be a blessing for others (and yeah, a curse for a few)

Sounds hypocritical?

You see, I have this odd opinion that sharing what you can to others, even yourself, is both a gift to give and a reward in itself. When you know you have made something that conjures even a micro-inch more of a smile in them, you can’t help but believe hope still exists.

Still, still there are people who are so difficult to bridge you’d have more luck in attempting extraterrestrial communication.They have been hardened by time and circumstances; they need more than just another little song, quote, picture, movie, event, or least of all a piece of petty writing from someone who “didn’t have a taste of hell yet”.

But well, the greatest transformations needed more than just a single effort.

And a big thanks to The Magnificent Mother Nature (and greedy politicians) for the law of accumulation – because we can be at ease knowing that every little, insignificant, and petty BUT good, beautiful and true things they have ever experienced are sure to sum up and become one giant ice cream of goodness that they surely cannot resist for long.

I know I should have entitled this “Idealism at Its Finest”.

So that’s my rant for the day. And yes, all is well.

*Evil Brother and Despicable Cousin (yep, that’s a RAT’S TAIL on his head :< ) discover the portal to the El Mundo Magnifico of The Ice Cream Land!!!

Protected: Numbness, Pessimism, Optimism Trio

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Prologue

I learned one new fact of life today.

Happiness Patient J.D. Unresponsive to ECT, Depressant Serum

It seems that as you age you continuously experience new stages of self – discovery. What you think of yourself when you were 18, however certain you were about it at that point in your life, will almost never be the same when you turn 25.

Boo-yah.

Some people say they have been self – assured early in life, but I don’t believe it. Because life changes you, it is a factory where we are all products that need to be  upgraded and enhanced regularly. And those that cannot be changed turn out to be inappropriate and are sure to belong in the bin labeled rejects.

So it’s surprising to me how, say, a piece of literature with a theme concerning self – discovery could be limited only to a category of teen/young adult literature. Ironic, since you can see middle – aged individuals certainly still uncertain about their own identities.

But why do I concern myself with these things?

You see, I plan to experience different things from what I have always been doing – it simply fails to give me a sense of happiness. I am not so proud as to want happiness per se, I merely want a sense of it. There was just no passion (yes, that’s the right word) in what I am used to do.

And lack of passion (or excess of it)  is in fact deadly. It has ended the lives of many notable men, and women of course.

That is why I am about to make this blog  a sort portfolio of the things I would love to AND would do – pictures, stories, social commentaries, rants, random idiocy – and it doesn’t mean it would be in a chronological order. I’m so bored with chronological.

Who isn’t?

*An image I particularly like one googling session. Courtesy of thingsweforget.blogspot.com (obviously :p).