durr...

2,954 meters on a climb

554 minutes to run
90 kilometers in road and trail races

84 episodes of how i met your mother

57 different beer products consumed

29 CDs

23 blogposts (including this one)

9 times i missed forecast

8 tropical storms that directly hit my area

4 pairs of shoes

3 weddings

2 loves lost

and one... well, one more person who looks back at 2009 with not-too fond memories. it seems as if i was made to feel it was payback for some of the free rides i may have had during the 2 years prior, and for 2010, i know that i will have to work just as hard, if not more, than this one.

for all the minor griping, heartbreak, and times you faltered this year, you know that your heart has hardened, and resolve has become something you learned to actually practice and not just preach. and while you hurt privately, understand that there is always someone there who wants to reach out, to share what you feel. they may not have a clue what you're going through, but the least you can do when they reach out is let them know that you feel their help. after all, the song does say, 'there is no me and no you, it's just us.'

we learn our lessons from what this year brought to our poker tables. may we never forget the grief, the mistakes, and the skinned elbows. let it inspire us to face the future with a renewed enthusiasm, one that we don't just feel, but make, for ourselves and for each other. i can relate to you, and i've made those mistakes in the last 12 months, too. and i know that whatever lies in wait, i cannot do this on my own. take my hand, and let's face the coming year together.

3...

2..

1.

let's go.

lulla bye.

i was seeking clarity, and i found it across the ocean.

there were no tides leading me to peace, i found it steering sail on my own.

where i should have found an angry current, there was a dusky calm instead.

and then i knew that my restlessness would be hushed.

i had to stop first, and take it all in. when it is quiet you've found, you revel in it as you wish.

but i know i can rely on my compass once again. true north is just a guide no longer.

with that i turn my back to set off anew. tonight i lie under a myriad of stars, but i will not count them off; sleep takes its place instead. because direction has replaced confusion. it has led me to calm waters.

and her whispers will disturb me no more. tonight, she lulls me to peace.

Freezing Forms Cracks

This time of the year presents opportunities for people to layer up with clothing- any excuse to look good and maintain the comfort of warmth. With sharing this warmth in mind, it's also this time of year that we meet up with friends, people of our present and past, to exchange stories, finding out what has happened to others, while updating others as well to own endeavors. And as the long nights go on during these times, we submit ourselves to all sorts of sensory excess, whether it be food & drink, or music, or the comforting company of people, that brings about that sense of conjugal warmth.

However, when all the establishments have closed, or all the friends have gone back to their respective homes, you come to your room, and take off your clothes. You peel away the layers of clothing that you had for the day, and you lie in bed, with only the most bare of essentials covering you. And you think that, throughout the excess, throughout the liquor, and food, and friends old and new, you find that you've inadvertently left yourself in your most vulnerable.

In the spirit of alcohol and proximity, you confess your true emotions to that certain friend you’ve always eyed, then you find that you’re whispering softly to each other through the din of the party. And your mutual fumbling ends up with the two of you in a strange bed, either awkwardly or euphorically, but always with the wonder of happened the night before.

Under the influence of the longing to talk to one other again, people confide their current fears to friends they hadn’t seen in years. And, regardless of whether we can truly relate, we go on and do, just like we did back when we were in high school or college. It’s like picking up where we left off seemed like just days, when it’s really been years since.

And as you’ve turned your lights off for the night, after coming home from the physical dalliances you’ve had, or the emotional exchanges you had with friends, old and new, you come to the realization, in your bed, alone, that you tried so hard to bundle yourself up in layers, in the quest to keep yourself warm, only to find that what you did was peel yourself open, leaving you exposed to the cold. And it bites you to your core, knowing that you’re out there, alone.

I was supposed to end my post on that note. It’s taken me almost a week to write down what’s been shared to me by other people this season. But I cannot let it end there, because inasmuch as I may have felt this way in seasons past or in short stretches of this year’s, I (and those who shared their thoughts, their fears with me) still know that, time and time again, we will leave ourselves open to that cold. We will willingly bring our defenses down and expose that which we have fought so hard to protect. Because in peeling those layers off, we open up our hearts to those that care the most. 

And there we find the warmth that no amount of layering could ever make.

receipts

Whenever people say that it’s little things, little details, that allow you to recall moments of your life you've buried in the back of your mind, note that they don’t precede it with ‘sometimes’. Because it happens not sometimes, but often. Of course you have your scrawled notes, plane tickets, greeting cards, envelopes with letters of days past, which remind you of that birthday, the death anniversary, or the big promotion. But there are things that are even smaller, more innocuous, that go unnoticed, that make you remember minor events that led to bigger things you end up remembering. Things like receipts.

I empty my pockets at day’s end, just like the rest (or, at least, the most) of you. But, unlike most of you, I don’t read them right then, and decide whether to throw them immediately. They end up occupying empty spaces of my drawer or desk, whatever portion of my room that seems to need a little more clutter. And it becomes weeks, sometimes months, after the fact that I decide to go through them and make an audit.

And you end up reading about a mass card you bought for someone’s grandmother. That was the first time you had seen your college group almost complete in over two years. Where you talked with friends about work, and promised to exchange resumes, not knowing that, months later, you’d be officemates as well.

You read about a short grocery bill of food and drinks that you made with friends in preparation for that all-night poker party you had in someone’s house. The one where she admitted something she shouldn’t have, and where he ended up not having to say sorry even though he was spending the whole night wracking up the courage to do so.

That receipt from the convenience store when you had to stop for water and cigarettes, on the way to the hilltop house you rented for the weekend. Where you had wine and cheese under a moonlit garden, and she whispered softly in the hammock about plans to follow-up your unica hija.

The toll ticket you had during that road trip where you went 170kph for the first time in your life, on a tollway that’s normally packed with traffic. And though you’ve forgotten why you went so fast that night, you haven’t forgotten to not do it again.

You end up reading that you ordered fish and chips, shrimp Diablo pasta, and lengua, that time you had a dinner date with someone you really like. Someone you like so much, that, even though she said yes to a second time, you're still hesitant to take her up on it because you know you still have your own issues. And you seriously, seriously, don’t want to mess this one up.

You throw them away eventually, like all ultimately useless pieces of paper. But for a few moments, you recall why you now wear your hair tied up every Friday. Or how you ended up having the time of your life doing a job you love. Or what led you to decide to never date girls from a certain high school. Whether you like it or not, chose it or not, don’t be fooled into thinking that there are no witnesses. They just stay quietly hidden, waiting to be unearthed.

The next time you feel thermal paper between your fingers, receive a slip of paper from a waitress, or a piece of pad paper from a greasy hand, know that they may become small reminders, little things you keep in your pocket that lie in wait, until such time that they’re asked to tell a story.

yours.

today's race felt really good.

and it wasn't even a very organized run, which was just fine, as i didn't have high expectations, anyway.

it wasn't because, for the first time, i had no keys jangling in my pocket.
it wasn't because there were less than 1,000 runners racing today.
it wasn't because i ran a 10K race in under an hour again (i'm not really confident that it was 10K, but that doesn't really matter, like i said).
and it wasn't because we were using RFID tags so that i'd be measured real-time (because i usually start at the back end of the field).

it was because after the race, instead of driving 30 mins to get home, i walked it in 5. aah, sweet relief.

one brick at a time.

i thought that writing about how we ended might lead me to a path of clarity from the road we took together. and while i haven't fully found it yet, which still keeps me up at night, i've also come to this point of knowing that i cannot wait any longer for a detour to come my way. if i wanted a course for my own, i'd need to lay it down myself.

i once read a quote that said (more or less) that if something ends, you shouldn't be sad that it ended, but be happy that it ever began, and on the surface, i agree. while i could never regret everything we shared, i know i must never forget, above all else, the disjoint that we had. it's time to come to terms with the fact that we didn't give ourselves much time to settle in, or distance to step back and weigh-in what we had. i had wanted too much, too soon, and while i tried to get away with the lie that i didn't want more, i know that i eventually gave myself away- that i would've been to glad to have been yours. in due time, you showed your hand, too, only it took your leaving to make me see it.

there is enough time. and i cannot sit idly from then until now, clinging to the hope that i might convince you that i'm someone to come back to. because i couldn't convince you of that even before you left. it's time to stop reminding myself of what i've lost. it's time to remind myself that i could not have lost what i never really had.

it's time to rebuild, one brick at a time.

my insomnia

in light of all the confusion and hurt we caused each other,

from the fundamental differences we discovered in the short time we were together,

seeing that we were walking together towards different directions,

in the steady tide of time that will have drifted us apart longer than we were ever together,

knowing that, even when you come back, we can and should never be with each other again,

i should be fine.

but i can't sleep.

so i remember looking at you wearing my shirts, and the feeling i had seeing you look so comfortable in them.

i remember when you'd stare at me wide-eyed whenever you were feigning innocence

i still hear your giggle in my ear when we know my hand's moved too far up your leg

i hold your pillow tightly, as if it were you in my embrace

and still i can't sleep.

i remember fried dumplings at 3 in the afternoon

when we looked out a window, wondering why a boulevard was empty

i remember when you wrapped your arms around me, and it didn't matter where, they always seemed to fit

when you said, 'you're tired, you're gonna snore again', then followed it up with, 'yes, i know.' and a smile

and still i can't sleep.

i remember when you asked me if i could leave it all behind

when we nearly kissed, and when we really did

i remember when i told you 'i love you', you said, 'do you know how long i waited?'

and i still see your hand resting on mine, as if all the comfort you needed was already there

and that is why i can't sleep.

if fate has a sense of humor, she just gets it from her boss.

there is a church in the region where i work that i always wanted to visit one time. it was made of red brick (my construction material of choice), it had a bell tower, and it was nestled in a quiet area in a quiet town in an already quiet province. and just in case you didn't catch my drift...


i decided to go in, because i needed to pray that day. and, alone in a cavernous house of god, i prayed.

i thanked him first for allowing me to be alive, with full faculty of my senses.
i prayed for the people who lived in that sleepy little town i was in.
i prayed for the mom of one of my close friends, who was diagnosed with breast cancer and was still fighting the good fight.
i prayed for my other close friends, who, at that moment, were probably excited, hungry, frustrated, tired, satiated, or sleepy, depending on which friend i would be referring to.
i prayed for my most previous relationship. we knew we did not end well, and, though she may scoff at the idea, i always prayed for her well-being and thanked god for her every chance i could get. and i had one now.
i prayed for my family. though he already knew that i couldn't do much without them, i told him anyway.
i prayed for cabasa girl. i had no idea what she was up to now, but i prayed that she was at the best state she could be in, as well.
and i prayed for myself. that i find a more insightful peace with myself, one that would let me sleep better at night. because i knew that, at that moment, i was far from it.

i left the church, but there was no epiphany, no feeling of being lighter (or heavier, either), nothing out of the ordinary. i just prayed a private prayer, and that was that.

but 30 minutes after i stepped out of that church, i get a message from my previous relationship. and we got to conversing for a while before i had lunch. it was actually an ordinary exchange of news bits and advice, save for the fact that we hadn't had any real communication in over 3 months. but communicate we did, and with a slightly brighter outlook, i went on with the rest of my workday, knowing that she seemed very well. and i was glad that she was. and that was that. but little did i know that there was still something else in store for me.

last night, i opened my e-mail and see an unread message. and who would it turn out to be, but ms. cabasa girl herself. she had replied to my email. now, i open this email with baited breath, as i'm not really sure how she'd react to what i wrote, if at all she'd react.

and react she did not. she just gave me updates on what she was up to. unfortunately, near the bottom, i read a two-letter pronoun which i was not expecting to read, and nearly fell off my seat reading: us

uh-oh.

nevermind the context of the sentence. my point is that... well, you get the point.

and last night, try as i might, i didn't sleep any better.

little things.

just little things that make your day lighter.



and i don't understand why i try to photoblog when all i have is a beat-to-crap cameraphone.