Best of 2009

Friends, 2009 has been a great year. And I am happy to bring on the New Year. I have some exciting news that involves a new domain, new site, and starting "fresh" for 2010. Hope to see you at my new site for 2010 [details soon]. But first, a look into what this year has been about, through blog archives:

January:
I start "Archive Mondays" with an introspective look at Where I Was, Where I am, and Where I'd Like to Be:
[Excerpt: Pilgrimage]

I'd like to volunteer. I'd like to be a confident, grounded, whole, fulfilled individual. I'd like to be comfortable with myself, and comfortable with the idea of sharing my life with someone else. I'd like to be giving. I'd like to travel, or travel to volunteer. I'd like to make a difference in this world. I'd like to write a novel, or be a professional artist, or photographer or... at least realize that I can be anything I set my mind on, and have the tenacity to achieve it.  Read the Rest.

Other January "best of" entries:

• On Being Bisexual - Part I (I never did make a part II... maybe next year? *wink*) 
• For Richer or Poorer - My views on marriage, in which I liken myself to Medusa
• Skin - Possibly my most popular post ever. An erotic poem expose on beauty.
• Regret - Short fiction on abortion

February:
[Excerpt: Courage in Patience]

Sometimes, I almost wish I had been sexually abused so that I have a better justification for how messed up I am, or how messed up I sometimes feel. I know that's an incredibly weird thought, and even weirder still, I have had rape fantasies. Something about being submissive and so irresistably sexy that he ravages me with animalistic force, strength and dominance. Read the rest.

[Excerpt: Lost (In Translation)]

My island is calling me. Tempting me to go back. Telling me that I will be found. My island exists and I must go back soon. The Philippines may be my next destination of permanent impermanence. This feeling, this calling, formulatating thought bubbles in my head that are starting to formulate a goal. Read the rest.

March: 
[Excerpt: Listen up!]

It's just a dream, you know. I awake from it in a daze. Reality sinks in that I've been celibate for too long. And that I have promised myself that I will remain celibate for at least a year. That's crazy, maybe. But I need a year long sabbatical from outside distractions. I'm not religious by any means. Spiritual, perhaps. I need this time for myself like I need water. Nourishment. Survival. For now, I just have my imagination, my hands, and my vibrator. Read the rest.

• Big Me, Little Me - A letter to my past and future selves. 
• The Mitigations of Moving On - Finally cutting my hair as a symbol to cutting free of a past relationship.
• Farewell - A poem about the 5 stages of Grief.

April:

[Excerpt: Karate Kink]

The slight stench of body odor permeates my senses as my opponent approaches me from a choke behind hold. His sweaty body grips me in sticky skin against skin. In a few seconds, I have flipped him on his back, using my leg muscles for power and leverage in a bent over squat. Read the rest.

• Choosing Martial Arts: A Celebration - I recount my first belt initiation with pride. 
• Scared - Three things I am scared of.
• Language - Three languages I love (words, love, music).
• From Atheism to Agnosticism - My spiritual Journey has really come full circle.

May:

[Excerpt: Dear Child]

 I haven't met you yet, but I Love you. On this Earth, I will love you with every molecule, cell, atom and soul of my existence. There is no other way. [...]

Follow your dreams. Both waking and asleep. Trust your intuition. The answers you seek are all within you, if you know how to look. Look closer.

Enjoy the silence. Enjoy the spaces in between. This is how you learn to truly see. Read the rest

• Is Technology Making us Dumb? - Well, is it? 

June:

[Excerpt: Confessions of a Groupie]

Sometimes, I dream of him. I wonder how rock stars fuck. I have waking fantasies. Fantasies like we're cuddling and our lips meet in a passionate dance. Soon, my lips are roaming, tasting every inch of his skin from his neck to his hip bones to his inner thighs. Fantasies like his hands are roaming and entering me with two fingers flicking inside me as if he were finger-picking a guitar. I've never been with a musician but I'd like to think they can play me like music. Each sensuous vibration like bow to string; pure raw noisy sex. Harmonious and interwoven. Read the rest.

•  Blue Rain - Remembering Michael Jackson's death with a tribute poem.
• The Lonely American - Thoughts on American's rugged independence and the need for community.
• How to Date a Tough Girl - A dating guide not exclusive to me. ;)
• Travel San Francisco - Sharing some images of my trip.

July:

• Redefining the Modern Marriage in a Postmodern World - Thoughts on marriage. 
• Body Dysmorphia - Even I feel fat sometimes...

August:

[Excerpt: When Did My Life Become So ADULT!?]

Being an adult means making your own decisions. It's not something I've been comfortable doing, but the more you do it, the "bigger" you get and the more confidence you achieve. This isn't just ego gratification or cockiness, it's true inner confidence, and I've seen it happen in my own life. Read the rest.

•  The Seven People I'd Most Like to Meet - You know, the dead people for dinner thing.

September:

[Excerpt: India Bound: 2010]

The thought of 2010 is both exciting and extremely scary. I am anxious. I don't know how I will be as a volunteer. I don't know what exactly I'll be doing to help, other than "taking basic school lessons, playing with the children, providing medical support for them and introducing them to activities (such as painting) that they would never otherwise have a chance to do." I don't know how I will get everything together by January, and even the little details of getting everything in place worries me. I am terrified, but I am following through with this. I am absolutely committed and believe this is exactly what I have to do and want to do. Read the rest.

• Say Cheese! My Journey Through Ink [Picture Edition] - In which I get my first tattoo. 
• Asianphiles and the Caucasian Male/Asian Female Relationship - The post that gives me the most google hits. ;P
• Hungry - Thoughts on love, life, and on being single. 
• "Smita Meands Smile" Or: My first Bollywood Class - I took Indian dance for about two months.

October:

• Sunday Scribblings: Junk - A slightly embarrassing video of me getting back into guitar (before I sold it).
• Disneyworld - In which I visit Florida for the first time.

November:

• Top 10 Things I'd Like to Do While Living in Asia - Not your typical list
• No God and Eastern Philosophy - Using my spiritual concept to talk philosophy

December:

• Part II: Wherever the Wind Blows Me - The reality based story that inspired my venture back into erotic writings.

Thanks for being part of a great year.

Wanderlust

Seas of change

Beckon its call

Like fireflies flickering

Its light cast visions of

Yonder

Oh, Wanderlust

Wonder less

Wandering stars

Come guide me

I'll be with you soon

I'll take you in my arms and

Wrap you in my warmth

We'll rule the world together

Make adventures

Form friendships

Find love

I'll even let you

Keep the toilet seat up

Wandering stars

Wonder less

Oh, Wanderlust

We'll make art happen

Climb mountains

Hike to Macchu Picchu

Ride an elephant

Taste the rain

Dance in shadows

And remain gypsies with

Hearts of soul

Archive Monday: Live in the Now

visions of my 19 year-old self:
friday september 6th
live in the now
2002 1:23pm

the trick is to *look* occupied. *look* like you're doing something, for i've nothing to do in my drawing class. today, while taking the bus to the art institute, i overheard a zealous religious woman thanking god for the pair of gloves she got at ross. she was beginning to scare me. "i'm having a wonderful day, thank god! i thank god i'm alive and here with my beautiful friend today."

we are supose to be utilizing our time to do our final projects oncerning figures in space. but the model never showed up so i can not sketch a figure in motion. or rather, the illusion of motion on a still frame. so instead, i play with my rubber drawing eraser, like clay pieces rolled up into squares and balls. its soft, gumby-like texture rests on the end of my pencil. and i'm thinking... about now. i'm reading an awesome book that tells you how to live your life in the NOW, called, respectively "the power of now". it sounds like a weird wayne's world trip but its's awesome. and i began to think what journals are. a lot of entries talk about the future... a lot about the past. it's almost become a therapy for me. but what if i'm going about it the wrong way>? by thinking of the past, you create bitterness, sadness, resentment, and guilt. by thinking of the future, you create anxiety and stress. so by writing about it, aren't you just creating those things for yourself?

Art Model

The woman looks like a librarian; in her thick, unstylish frames and baggy thrift store clothes that look like she doesn't care about keeping up appearances, or at least, being cool. Her long, brunette hair is tied back in a messy pony tail, but as she gingerly undresses, the look of uncertainty on her face gradually changes to that of sexy confidence. I glance over my drawing pad with charcoal in hand and hold my breath as I gaze intently at her ivory cream body. She is delicious. Feminine perfection. Every curve of her body suggests a work of art. Peter Paul Ruben's glowing nudes. Her breasts hang naturally in a perky sort of way, and her pink nipples stand erect in the delicate vulnerability of a cold, open studio space.

Breathing once more, I let out a soft exhale. She sets her position on the platform and the lights dim everywhere but the stage to spotlight her nudity. Every inch of muscle is accentuated in the soft flourescent light. The muscle groups I've learned to identify are displayed in healthy, defined female flesh. Latissimus dorsi. Deltoids. Who knew a librarian type could look so fit? I press the charcoal on the paper and begin to draw her lines. I see shades and shape. Contours. I see beauty everywhere, spilled out on stage and onto my drawing pad.

Another pose is made. Quick, one-minute impressions of the model's figure. This time, she faces me. The glint of muscle on her stomach surprises me. A slight hint of a six-pack, but still, she is soft and feminine. She's a pro. The poses come natural to her and her body is art. I want her to jump out of my page and delight me. To jump off of the platform and touch me. I want to feel her body like a sculptor feels his clay. The sensuous touch of a woman who is experienced.

I am imagining now. An artist has to be objective; viewing the model not as person, but as a thing. I wish I could have 'a thing' with the model. Place my fingers on her round mound of flesh and swirl around her nipples, then pinch. Her breasts will show the dirty evidence of black charcoal smudge like a thumbprint; me as culprit. I want to run my fingers gently across her lines, her contour, as if painting calligraphy with the tip of a fingernail, digging into her skin with exalted fervor.

The charcoal presses hard against the paper. I am drawing our romance. Quick, thick lines. Long and short strokes. A slight blending of porous skin. I wonder what she smells like. This paper, smooth against the touch, and 100% natural beckons me to question. I wonder what she tastes like. Wanting all my senses heightened with touch, tastes, smells. My mind wanders and I wonder. My art materializes into something beautiful, but not as great as the original. The hour is finished and the art model dresses as quietly as she undressed, and I hope to see her next week, when collaboration can happen again.


Sunday Scribblings: Delicious

Best of 2009: Learning Experience

This is a contribution to Gwen Bell's Best Of writing prompt: Learning Experience

2009 was the year I learned how to let go.

I learned the more you try to hold on to something, the more it escapes your grasp. Like water. Rain: you can't hold on to it.

I learned the humbling nature of life's impermanence. Nothing stays the same. Nothing is static. Which way a thing changes depends on you.

Sure, I "knew" these things intellectually for a long while. I've studied Buddhism that constantly reminds you that all things in life, including life itself, is impermanent. I knew that. But 2009 became a meditation in impermanence. Knowing this viscerally, emotionally, is quite a lot different than knowing it intellectually. Intellectually, I know a lot of things. But to really know something--to live it and feel it--is truly enlightening.

What got me through lots of lonely nights in the early part of the year, still reeling from the break-up of "the love of my life" (I say this only because my love life is young, and a 5 year relationship is the biggest dent thus far), is the simple idea that nothing in life is permanent, and therefore, this pain I'm suffering will soon pass. All things must come to pass.

This simple fact is both comforting, and depressing. It depends on your perspective. But, I learned not to make value judgments. I learned nothing is "good" or "bad", it just is. This year, I meditated on my favorite Zen koan, "Maybe".

There is a Taoist story of an old farmer who had worked his crops for many years. One day his horse ran away. Upon hearing the news, his neighbors came to visit. "Such bad luck," they said sympathetically. "Maybe," the farmer replied. The next morning the horse returned, bringing with it three other wild horses. "How wonderful," the neighbors exclaimed. "Maybe," replied the old man. The following day, his son tried to ride one of the untamed horses, was thrown, and broke his leg. The neighbors again came to offer their sympathy on his misfortune. "Maybe," answered the farmer. The day after, military officials came to the village to draft young men into the army. Seeing that the son's leg was broken, they passed him by. The neighbors congratulated the farmer on how well things had turned out. "Maybe," said the farmer.

No matter what, life always works itself out. It is better not to be too prepared, because you can't hold on to expectations and things beyond your control. Similarly, you cannot control the randomness and probabilities that come to us in life. The most you can do is live it, and do the best you can. Life is not a spectator sport; life doesn't just happen to you. And all of that.

By learning how to let go of relationships, of love, of painful things, of suffering, I learned how to live life to its fullest. I (re)learned who I am. And I will continue this momentum and revelations onto the next year. If 2009 was a year of growth, 2010 will be a year of opportunities. I won't let life stand me by.

I refuse to get stood up by life!

Part II: Wherever the Wind Blows Me

For Part I, and the background information of this encounter, please read Infatuation. This post is dedicated to Lilu's TMI Thursdays and Three Word Wednesday. Offering the words journey, rigid, and hinder.


DISCLAIMER: The following story delves into erotica. Read at your own risk.

* * *

He came to me in a dream once. After we'd exchanged the usual Facebook fare. Browsing through his pictures made me remember why I was so attracted to him 6 years ago. Why I was still attracted to him...

The dream was sexual in nature. Flesh upon flesh. A night's romp affair. Embrace. Touch. A fresh fuck. I woke up in a daze and I had to tell him. "I wonder if it has to do with seeing me again on Facebook," he said.

"I always have sex dreams," I reply nonchalantly. I always do, but it was the first, and still, the last dream of him.

* * *

Walking up to me, we embrace in a hug and it's easy. It's natural. Like old friends. He's even better looking in person, though, with his perfectly tousled black hair. The night leads us to the bars. Tonight, I learn how to drink beer. I experiment with different beers that I'm not sure I'll like but I do. He buys me drinks. I notice our body language. I am leaning towards him and engaged in conversation. He is leaning towards me, mirroring the same.

We talk about relationships, ideas on marriage, our travels. He is going to Japan, China and India, backpacking through Asia for a year and I am going to India and then the Philippines for a year...possibly Japan, if I win a contest. Possibly other Asian countries, too. Who knows where the wind will blow me? He expresses interest in wanting to visit me in the Philippines a couple times throughout the night. We've talked about it before, online, but I don't want to push him to a decision, just make it clear that the offer's out there.

Somehow, we end up at an international hostel. His friend bunks in the male dorm and we take a private room. I did not realize I would be spending the night, let alone in a private room. We are in the company of a Scottish character, going on a world titties tour by way of various strip clubs throughout his travels. That's not all he's doing, of course, but there's a lot of titties. He brought his bag pipes too. Literally. Though, figuratively is open to interpretation. Other people we meet from Japan, South Africa, Germany and an "asshole from New York" gather for drinks and I feel the sense of community that a hostel has. I've never been to a hostel before, and I like it.

* * *

"If you're not comfortable with this, I have a sleeping bag I can use," he tells me. No, it's fine, it's fine. He strips down to nothing but his briefs and I can't help but notice how incredibly sexy he is. The skinny, but chiseled body that a rock climber has. I strip down to my t-shirt and undies and get in. It is the same side I used when I was in a relationship. This seems familiar but different. I wonder if its possible to sleep together in a platonic way. I've done it before, with a boy. We shared a pillow but didn't even cuddle.

"Would it be weird to cuddle?" he asks. Shy, unaggressive me. I let him make the first moves, but who am I kidding? I knew this would happen the moment we got a private room. The moment we were walking in Portland and I showed him my purple Adidas boots and joked that someone told me they looked like boxing boots and he asked if it meant we were wrestling later.

We start to make out. It's so strange. I haven't made out with anyone in a long while. There were my drunken make-outs but does that count? When it feels so emotionless, I don't even enjoy it. Making out with a friend you actually care about is different. As my mind tries to process the moment, I let my senses take over and my hands start to wander. Letting go of the awkwardness, I start to enjoy the moment as our tongues dance. He is a good kisser. Soft. With lips that match mine.

As the making out becomes heavier, he lifts my shirt off and I am almost naked. I don't feel bad, or insecure. After all, I had my first topless photoshoot with a female photographer just weeks before. I wasn't nervous then, either. My mind doesn't worry me. Maybe I am finally becoming comfortable in my own skin. I just enjoy the moment, as he creeps down to my underwear and tastes me. First through my underwear, then peaking underneath it, and finally, taking it off.

He's good. Damn, he's really good. I've never enjoyed this before until now. The men have always been too harsh and I have always been too insecure to enjoy it. But, not tonight. Tonight he is good. Really good and it's hard to muffle my sounds, hindering my orgasm. His pacing is perfect. Not too strong. I imagine what this must feel to have a woman go down on me. Not as harsh. Better. Softer. Just like this. I imagine his tongue to be like that of a woman's. Not as harsh. Better. Softer. Just like this.

He comes up for air and kisses me again. We make out and he kisses my neck. The details are blurry. I'm just reacting. More tongue with the taste of my juices. I'm not sure if I'm ready for multiples but I guess I will be. Lather, rinse, repeat, as they say. My back arches as I squirm around uncontrollably to the pleasures. I try to grab a hold of the bed, the sheets. Something. I bite the back of my hand so I don't make noise. Wanting to be quiet, but wanting to be loud at the same time.

"I told you I could do this all night," he whispers. It's true. We've talked about this online more than once before. This is his favorite, to go down on a girl, as I typed jealous fingers of never meeting men who even like it. Who think it's gross, like my cunt is gross. Like cunt is a bad word and pussy is foul. But, my pussy is beautiful and I know he thinks the same.

We embrace and kiss some more. I want to be on top of him. He must have sensed it, or maybe I signaled somehow, because in minutes, we have rolled over so I am on top. It's easy. It's natural. Like our bodies understand eachother. Like we are both plugged in to the moment. I gently ruffle his hair. Kiss down. Stop at his single nipple pierce and play with it for just a little while. I kiss down some more. Hip bones. Stomach. I nudge at his briefs with my tongue, gently swirling against his rigid erection. He helps me take it off. I like to reciprocate.

It's been years since I've done this. Given head. I had a horrible dream once that [punk-rock boy] said I sucked at it. But maybe he just meant that I suck. As I suck up and down and lick his sack. He groans in approval. I can almost take him entirely in my mouth; lubricating him with my saliva, and swirling my tongue around. I position my body against his, and he takes his cue and moves underneath me for reciprocation. I've never done this either, and enjoyed it. It's always been awkward, but not tonight. Tonight, it's easy. It's natural. He quivers a bit and I can sense when he's about to come. I let him come in my mouth as I swallow. I love his taste. Smooth, and not too strong.

Afterwards, we cuddle together and fall asleep, with my head against his chest and his arm resting underneath me. This feels familiar but different. The ways in which we cuddle. The spooning, placing his hand against the side of my thigh, and his head on the crevice of my neck, brushing up against my hair. We stay like this in the morning. He mentions he had a sexy dream. Rare for him. A night's romp affair. I want to know more but I am just glad to be a harbinger of dreams. He came to me in a dream once, and he's here now.

* * *

The next day was spent walking all around rainy day Portland sharing an umbrella. We both ‘aww’ at the same time when we see an old couple doing the same. That kind of thing warms my cynical heart. We seek shelter at the local art museum and witness an original Raphael painting of The Woman With a Veil and Chinese graphic design. Followed by sushi for lunch. It's a great day, and I can tell he wants me to spend another night with them, but I have some obligations.

"Hopefully I can come visit you in the Philippines if the wind blows me," he says, when we depart. I'm bad at endings just as much as I'm bad at writing them. Who knows where the wind will blow us? Who knows where the wind will blow any of us, really? We hug one last time and go our separate ways. Two separate people with two separate journeys meeting at a junction. Perhaps, we'll meet again, but our moments, and our time, is limited. For now, I'm reminded of what we've shared and the importance of living in the moment; the impermanence of it all.

Archive Monday: Things Are Gonna Change

visions of my 19 year-old self:

monday september 2nd
things are gonna change..
2002 4:40pm

album >> siakol : tayo na sa paraiso

sitting here not knowing what to do. not knowing how to start my flipbook project. reading my 'compassionate teachings of the buddha' book instead and figuring out the riff to 'high' by feeder. like magic, my fingers play and strum the chords perfectly, as if i'd always known how to play the song. my thoughts wander towards music. my eyes scan the bookcase in which my cd collection is held. nearly every album has certain memories and periods of my life attached to it. some detailed, some general. my short marilyn manson phase that brought me to my first concert in 1999. memories with my friend leanne, now long and gone and shoved in my past. spotting my oivay album, i took it out of my bookshelf and considered listening to it but decided against it. happy memories when things were simple and i was still in high school, getting into the local punk scene by means of a groupie. sometimes, i wish i were still a groupie although i shun that label as something you should not be. a follower, a mindless teeniebopper to the scene, encompasses a 'groupie'. but my groupie days were so fun and innocent. who cares, really, how others will think of you? be a groupie and be proud! i remember listening to this album while writing a short thirty minute essay for my writing evaluation in college, determining whether or not i was 'advanced'. the oivay album was almost thirty minutes exact, and it amused me to think that i was listening to disconcerting punk instead of something more relaxing. memories of [punk-rock boy]... a guy i'd just like to forget completely (but know i never will)... of times when i'd eat at the taco bell parking lot at 1am in the morning. the first times i'd ever had taco bell, really.

some good, some bad. siakol bleeds my ears at the moment. a pinoy punk band from the philippines. memories of summer vacations blasting siakol on the radio. strangely attracted to music i couldn't even understand. these memories are everywhere. a story behind every album. a short biography from my teenage years to now.

on a completely different psychological note, does the amount of time you've known someone determine the validity of a relationship? how long have married couples known eachother prior to marriage and of that time, how long were they actually dating? if you've known a good friend for 12 years and know another good friend for only 5, doesn't that put the 12 year friendship over the other? isn't the 12 year friendship tighter, clsoer, *better*? logic might think so. but lets not forget the other factors involved. the longer you've known someone, the more history you have with that person. this sometimes may create conflicts. for the more history you have with them, the harder it is to accept change or even recognise it! we create certain expectations on people. the way they should be, the WAY THEY WERE. sometimes, change happens right before our eyes and we may not always know how to deal with the fluctuations. thus, friendships and/or relationships may be lost because of this. we may not know how to adapt to the changes... we may not WANT to... and we let friendship slip away.

i miss the old n. getting engaged changed her really fast; matured her really fast and i don't know how to deal. as sad as it is i know that by choosing not to do anything about it, i am choosing to let a good friendship slip away. the kind where we had no no secrets and would tell eachother details about ones sex lives. but oh, it was great. and the details were appreciated.

similarly, on a relationship level, perhaps meeting someone new, with a clear slate on friendships and history, is better than someone you've known and had an interest in for six years. people do a LOT of changing in adolescence to late teens... to even late twenties! perhaps the reason 'high school sweethearts' rarely make it to marriage is because of all the changes that take place. most people can not keep up with the fluid motions of change and adapt to them. it is like a river that flows through your veins and lifeblood. we meet many people along the way, but to keep them there is a task none too easy. they have their OWN lifeblood. we may cross paths but sooner or later, our lifeblood will move differently... become out of sync to what was once in sync. not only do they change, but YOU change as well... so much that your paths start to diverge and go separate ways. i know the cutest couple. they've been together since 8th grade. they got engaged after high-school. truly, engagement is the ultimate test of fate... for i've known many people to break up after getting engaged at such a young age. unfortunately, they didn't make it either. john and jane were no longer "john and jane". why? i overheard john saying that jane was already dating another boy tow weeks after they broke up ( a boy john would love to punch in the face because of it). jane had *already* kissed the boy.

"that's not normal for jane," john commented. but maybe that wasn't normal for jane. she's a growing young woman. maybe jane's CHANGED and bill doesn't even notice. maybe john's expectations of jane are different than what jane has grown to become. they know eachother so well... they'd been together for 6 YEARS! she was like an angel to him. a recovering heroin addict on rehab, when john first saw jane, he decided that he finally had something worth living for. if this was what he was missing out on with drugs, then he would certainly stay off them! but people change in six years.. lifebloods can't always be in sync. expectations can't always be followed... the best thing to do is let it go... follow the river, not fight it. sooner or later, you'll meet someone new, with a clean slate. history begins now. and sooner or later, you'll find that someone, your TRUE lifeblood, in sync for the rest of your lives.

Pig Killing

The morning often greets me with the familiar noises of a rooster’s cock-a-doodle-doo in Cebu; but not this morning. Jarring me awake is the cacophonous sounds of high-pitched squealing. Eyes wide open, heart thumping, synchronizing to the primal squeals of a pig about to die. A sense of urgency permeates the hot, arid air. I don’t know whether it is the humidity making me sweat, or the squealing keeping me awake, gutting the pit of my stomach in an empathetic arising; a profuse sweating of my pores.

I am eight, and this is my home land. My relatives that I have not seen since I was three still seem like strangers to me. The Philippines is a strange land. Pedi-cabs and Jeepney buses whiz past rural streets filled with potholes like pockmarks on the derma of Earth’s surface; the bustling of the developing world.

In a daze, I crawl out of bed and stumble out of the room, tentatively, I peak my head outside the house on sticks. The pig is running around, squealing its death dirge with nowhere to hide. A local neighbor boy, Elsis, is running behind him with a knife in hand and loose flip-flop “slippers” thudding against soft dirt. I look away and go back to bed, trying with all my might, unsuccessfully, to sleep again.

Even out of sight, my ears give me a play-by-play of the events. The franticness of the pig escalates louder, as if 1,000 megaphones lurch its broadcast to break the monotony of the morning rooster’s ruse. Intensity increases as I imagine the slitting of the pig’s throat, unable to escape its fate. The shrillness vibrates my eardrums in a descent of deafening eulogies. “Here lays Pig; dead and dying,” I think to myself. The squealing dies down and I know the inevitable has happened. I wonder if I can stomach this feast tonight, knowing that I had heard the sacrificial screams of another living thing. Would I become vegetarian?

* * *
One of Philippines’ most famous delicacies, lechon, or roasted pig, is most often the main dish of a special celebration. Today, we celebrate fiesta; the rat-a-tat-tat of drums marching down the street and festive costumes in bright colors, while inside, I play my Lambada tape and attempt the dance my tita taught me. The pig is roasting outside in the manmade fire pit and I joke to myself that "Elsis the Pig Killer" is cooking our meal.

As dinner approaches, my family gathers around the table sharing stories. So many gatherings are spent around food. Ma jokes that every Filipino picture is of people eating, and it's true. At the dinner table, my family doesn't seem so strange anymore; my family becomes family, and I become a part of them. When I eat my first roasted pig I know that I am not only a meat eater, but a true Filipino, in every sense of the word. This is no longer a strange land. I am home.

Part I: Infatuation

This post is a response to Gwen Bell's 2009 "Best Of" prompt: New person.

* * *

Our story begins nearly 7 years ago. I have just found an internet message board that my friend showed me based on sexuality and philosophy. My new-found sexual awakening; discovering masturbation at age 16 and my first relationship at age 18 has piqued my interest to join.

On a board dominated with pornography and thousands of male users, being female gave you an edge to getting noticed. It wasn't long until one user stood out to me. He had the dashing good looks to turn me into a giggling school girl. And his reciprocated interest didn't help tame my school girl spirits either! I was surprised that someone that attractive could be into me.

Tall, dark and handsome. That's how I like em. Soon, we exchanged contact information and began chatting online. Online chats lead to webcam chats and webcam chats lead to...

I was 20 and in an on again/off again relationship. My webcam chats happened on the off again. I'm not one to cheat. Still, I had some level of awareness that I was getting into this infatuation for the wrong reasons. For a simulated affection. For emotional distractions. For insecurities to being on my own.

But, who could blame me when I was getting live webcam footage of naked men masturbating?

I don't regret this period of my life. In retrospect, I was a young woman with a burgeoning sexuality that I wanted to explore, and he helped me embrace it. We chatted through the webcam with him in the buff. I, being not so brave and living with my parents, occasionally would flash him or go topless but it was trickier. I recall the night I stripped completely in the nude and showed him, with embarrassment and a slight rush of adrenaline. He said I was sexy and gorgeous. I melted.

Online infatuations are funny, and they can happen quick. They can get intense, and it did. Soon, there were talks about meeting. I was so close to a plane ticket... I wanted to but I chickened out. I chickened out because I couldn't face the reality of the situation. I was young and dumb, just out of a relationship, and scared at the prospect of a new one. Everything was fantasy. The reality me? Not as great. I balked at expectations.

Soon, my on again/off again relationship was off for good and I was rushed into my next relationship that I would stay in for the next five years. I thought he was the one. I thought I met him and "knew" like so many married people "knew". Naturally, my new boyfriend was jealous and I cut off all contact with my infatuation completely. I hurt him and wished that I could have no affect on people. Wished that we didn't just go through this, and told myself I wouldn't get too caught up in online infatuation ever again...

A year ago, I broke it off with the guy I "knew" would be a big part of my life. And he was; just not forever, like I naively thought it would be. Coincidentally, days after I broke up with my ex, my long ago infatuation signed online for the first time in years. I hadn't talked to him the whole time I was sucked into my relationship, and it was good to see him on again. I decided to say hi.

This past year was spent reconnecting with him online in a (mostly) non-sexual, but sometimes playful, way. It was nice to talk to him past the infatuation and learning we actually had a lot of things in common. Deep chats about spirituality, sexuality and our viewpoints on relationships. I (re)learned his love for martial arts, yoga, and rock climbing and was amazed by the achievements he made since our last communication. I learned he graduated with a graphic design degree and had a love for typography that my art nerd appreciates. I learned he spent a year in Japan, visited Taiwan, and traveled across the world. I recall a conversation where he made a comment on the shape of my boobs and was surprised he remembered from that long ago. On second thought, I haven't forgotten him, either.

Although we had a bit of a "history", I felt our reconnection was like starting over. Like meeting someone new.

Which brings us up-to-date with today.

This past week, he and his friend took a roadtrip around my area and we met up for the first time in 6 years. A little older now, and more mature. I'm glad our paths finally crossed. We spent a night I won't soon forget...

But you'll have to tune in on Thursday for the rest of that story. ;)

Location Independence?

Yesterday, I commented to myself (and twitter) that

I'm basically right where I want to be in life. Awesome.

And, I am.

One thing that many budding or aspiring traveler/nomads would like is location independence. This concept simply means that you have a job that you can operate from anywhere which typically means your job is based entirely online. Location independent professionals require the use of laptop but the main goal of a location independent lifestyle is to be able to travel anywhere in the world and still be able to work! This gives you both the freedom and fun of different cultures while still receiving your paycheck!

I'm proud to say I'm on my way to a location independent profession, in less than a month from getting fired from corporate cubicle life, and a month before I leave! How did I do it? 1) I applied and submitted writing samples to various opportunities and currently am a web content writer for a handful of companies. 2) I answered a tweet. I write blog articles. I get paid. And I even tweet for companies. This is beyond exciting to me because I have wanted to be a freelance writer for a long time (OK, since the beginning of this year) and a professional blogger to boot.

Now that I have more freedom, someone asked me if I had any plans for travel before my big Eastern adventure. As a matter of fact, I would like to take New York City breaks to visit a couple friends. One friend, we'll call him [Vegan Boy], is someone I briefly dated and had a "fling" with. He'd like to remember that time as having a friendship first and a relationship not based entirely on sex and I guess he's right. But I beg to differ--at least a little--because I happen to think guys and girls can't be friends (a chip off of When Harry Met Sally). My hesitancy in visiting him when he hasn't seen me since that time and is still clearly attracted to me (hey, it's nice to know people you've dated still think you're hot. I happen to know most of them do!) is something I definitely tread with caution. Still, it's a tempting offer to see the city and have a free place to stay. While I haven't bought my tickets yet, and my bank account is still NOT a fat belly buddha, I feel like I should just seize the day and do it! What do you think?



This article is a paid article. I hope you don't mind!

A Year of Growth

2009 has most definitely been a year of Growth for me. I was reading through my archives and found something particularly poignant that I wrote December 7th of 2008.

i feel so transient; a drifter just wondering where to go next [...] my living situation is transient. i live with two roommates-a gay couple-in a house that is not mine. i keep my space bare and minimal as if i could be ready to travel at moments notice. my heart is calling and i know that is my next step. the details haven't materialized yet, but i know i need to take a journey... something life changing and life altering, bold, independent and amazing. everyone new that i have met and made a connection with all have travelled and seem to have the same sort of wanderlust. i feel like it is an omen telling me that i need to travel, just go, and DO it. we've only got one life to live.

Long before I ever felt community through my blog, long before I ever found 20sb and the amazing people who have stuck with me throughout this past year (thank you, really), I wrote the above entry. It simply amazes me (I think it's bad writing form to use the same word twice in succession but I don't care, it's AMAZING!) how much I've come this past year, and how this simple pull and yearning I had is coming to a reality.

A year ago, the "details haven't materialized yet", but the plan was already taking shape in my mind. Is it not too pompous to say that a year ago, I knew I would be traveling? As much as I know the sun rises every day. It was just a matter of fact.

I have few people to thank but myself. I found a calling and I followed through. I am making it happen. When I broke up from a particularly defining relationship, I was scared, but I asked the "Universe" (God?) what the hell I'm supposed to do next. Instantly, the Philippines popped into my head.

Other people have helped me along the way. Those new people that I've met have lived in Shanghai for a year, teaching English. Lived in New Zealand, for a year, and Argentina the next year. I've had heart-to-hearts with friends that, although they have not become longterm friendships, have helped me immeasurably during that healing period of my life. They've encouraged me to pursue my dreams, and move to Asia. They've taught me that anything is possible and within my reach.

In January 2009, when I first stumbled upon Chase's blog, the original Taiwan "Drifter", he told me that "The Journey is the Destination", and it resonated with me. It still does. I took a peak into his life living a year abroad in Taiwan and realized if this guy can do it, I could too!

All of these people have helped and encouraged me along the way, in some shape or form, simply by being themselves. They've helped guide me, be it some spiritual cosmic sort of encountering, or not. They've helped me realize my inner voice and inner yearning to travel should not go ignored.

32 days and counting.

Archive Monday: Send in the Clowns

visions of my 19 year-old self pulled from archive.org:
sunday aug 25th
send in the clowns
2002 6:07pm

album >> the spent poets : s/t

she picked up the delicate procelain frame and slowly twisted the back in delight of melody to her ears. send in the clowns... the fragile doll had a sadness to it. its white clown face formed one silver tear drop beneath her blue eyes. something about old-age and antiques... she wanted too comfort this doll as it slowly swayed its body to the music; cheerful at first, but gradually winding down to a sad stop. she wanted to comfort HERSELF.

* * *

surfing at different sites today, i realised a lot of indie kids are in the webpage/blog scene. they go to shows and then go home to write about them. it used to intimidate me when they would list a bunch of bands i've never heard of. but perhaps they're trying to be intimidating on purpose (or at least cool); listing those bands *because* no one would hear of them. what's wrong with writing down beatles or pink floyd? beautiful music... CLASSIC music that people have *gasp* heard of!? i used to blindlessly buy albums for the sake of knowing that it was 'punk' or 'emo'. i used to go to shows for the sake of going. now i realise i was jubt being a lame groupie/poseur. i try not to be as concerned with the people around me anymore. with what THEY listen to. i've found my niche of artists i adore (sleater-kinney! ani!) and i'm always open to new music but that's not my main goal. fanatacism boggles me. much less, the styles and trends you see in these scenes. nowadays, i laugh silently to myself at the new generation fo "punk" kids who dress the part, go to all the shows, but have no idea what the true notion and spirit of punk *really* is. they generally shop at hot topic, the punk cliche. i laugh to myself..

* * *

sitting down in jackpot records, awaiting the free sleater-kinney record release party, i thumbed through some punk zines. they're looking for more artists to do cover design work! now's my oppurtunity to show my art to the public. i have never gotten my art involved with anything, not even local county fairs. and i've been thinking about selling my art... putting them in local art fairs or galleries. but i simply don't know where to begin. i suppose my art teacher could give me direction if i ask. but is this really something i'd want to pursue? or bigger yet, is this really something i CAN pursue?? i need confidence...courage... i don't want to be a starving artist anymore. i truly feel like i am every time i take the hour and half public transit trip to school... shelling out quarters and ones for tickets. and tens and twenties for art supplies and print jobs. it's trying... wears you down.

corin tucker and carrie brownstein walked past me as i read some article about erase errata. the members of s-k themselves walked past me! i chuckled to myself. soon, they did a quick sound check as corin eee'd, aah'd and yeah yeah'd at the mic. a short, thirty minute autograph session followed. sleater-kinney is one of my favorite bands. they were my first general admission show two years ago! an introduction to the raw energy that is indie. and all i could think of to say to them was "hi"? corin smiled back and returned my greeting. i never know what to say in front of rock stars. or indie rockstars even. what can you say that hasn't already been said? i wanted to say that their new album made me want to scream and dance, indicating that, indeed, i had pre-ordered their album a few days prior to the record release date. but... i didn't. come to think of it, i've never done that with any band, besides the smashing pumpkins, whom i've had an obssessive love for (i still own and listen to my twenty SP cds on occasion because of it).

to my surprise, they played the entire album, beginning to end. all of them already familiar to me. with a ten minute interlude between the 1st and 2nd song because corin's peddle needed to be tightened. some guy from the crowd just happend to have a screwdriver. "yeah, this is THE screwdriver corin used to fix her peddle, man!" another guy said, mocking a stupid stoner voice. "i'll like , never wash it again!"

i was standing to the right in the front of the crowd. the speaker was right in front of me, as well as a couple of other people. for some reason, high-pitched vocals get to me. my right ear starts resonating weird and it hurts. this never used to happen. i think i need to start wearing ear plugs.

at the end of the show, i saw people start taking down the promo posters. my tall friend grabbed one on the post for me so now i have a free promo poster! it's hanging up on my door now. i had to rearrange my posters around and moved john lennon to the 'vintage' section of my room. i also put my drawer back in my room which has been lying around in the spare room ever since i got new carpet. i decorated the drawer with more of my jones soda bottle collections, my incense and the porcelain clwon doll i had found at an antique shop one day. send in the clowns... i picked up the delicate, porcelain frame and slowly twisted the back in delight of melody to my ears...

Top 3 Things I Learned While Living With a Gay Couple

Many of you don't know that for most of the 2009 year, I lived with two roommates; a gay couple, and their 3 male cats. This match-up was a craigslist email that I responded to. I felt instantly special and a "perfect fit" when they mentioned to me that they received several responses to the ad but only contacted me because they felt I was the best fit, and throughout the months, I learned that I was.

After cohabiting for three years, living with my parents for most my life, and a brief 3-month stint doing the college dorm thing, the gay couple was the first time I had ever ventured out on my own, living with roommates that once started out as strangers. Why a gay couple? Simply, because I needed to move out of a stalemate relationship, and I didn't want to move in with 1) guys that would hit on me and 2) cliquish girls that would make me feel obligated to be their friend. I just wanted peace and respite.

My top 3 Lessons while living with a gay couple:

1) How to eat mushrooms

One of the "perks" in living with the gay couple is that they loved to cook! They would make scones and awesome ethnic Indian dinners, and other healthy and scrumptious exotic meals. Prior to living with them, I have always hated eating mushrooms, but since mushrooms was a fairly frequent cooking staple in their diet, I gave it a try and loved it! Learning how to eat mushrooms was a milestone for me. So much so, that I consider 2009 to be the year of the mushrooms.

2) How to be a crazy cat lady

The 3 cats were a weird adjustment at first. I dislike cats, but they came to grow on me, and at one point, I even considered being a "crazy cat lady". The stereotypical feminist, a bit eccentric, who has no relationships except for her cats. One cat, "Blee-blee" ("short" for Blixa), took an instant liking to me despite being a bit of a scaredy cat and afraid of most people. He would come up to me every time I was in the living room area and stare, waiting for me to give him the "OK", at which point, he would borrow himself on my lap, climb up to my chest, and knead his paws against me.

3) How to cohabit

Living with a gay couple gave me a unique insight into a good, successful relationship and how to cohabit where I had failed. Their sense of togetherness, and laid back attitudes allowed them to achieve cohabitation without the sense of manic that I seemed to possess. Their sense of space and proximity wasn't needy, but still close without having to be too close. And their constant, affirming pet-names they had for eachother sealed their connection and affection while breaking the "too cute" scale.

Words like "Husbear" made me feel as if we were the Three Little Bears, and I was the Itty Bitty Baby Bear.

Last summer, my roomies approached me with the idea of moving downtown. Together, we made the tandem move which made my transition to move back to my parents and prepare for my Big Move abroad much easier. Although my time at the new house was short, it fast became my favorite "spot". I loved being in the hub of downtown, even if I didn't necessarily go out every night. Within a two block radius alone, I could choose between a health food store, billiards bar, sushi restaurant, middle-eastern restaurant, thrift store, bakery, coffeeshop, and local breakfast/lunch spot using farm fresh eggs and local ingredients. The options were amazing! I felt very comfortable in a cozy house with faux-fire, random thrifty knickknacks my roommates collected of unicorns and other things, artsy paintings on the walls that my roomie made, good indie music, and the aromas of home cooking.

While we do have facebook, I'll miss my roomies and they say they'll miss me!

This is my contribution to Gwen's Best of 2009 blog challenge: The best place, and new food.

Best of 2009: Stability

Have you taken the Best of 09 challenge yet? December 9's prompt is: Challenge. Something that really made you grow this year. That made you go to your edge and then some. What made it the best challenge of the year for you?

* * *

My dating history isn't much. I mean, I don't have a long list of guys that I've "hung out" with, slept with, or generally been "in a relationship" with. I'm a bit of a late bloomer. Nevertheless, the year 2009 is the longest that I've been single since I've started dating. Truly single with no attachment to drama of the casual (or carnal) kind. It feels good. As much as I may sometimes miss companionship, it feels really nice to be free. And yet, a relationship shouldn't ever hinder "being free". It's a tougher balance though, and one that I've struggled with.

Having a layman interest in psychology, I know all about the "Five Stages of Relationships". The stages, generally, are as follows:

1) Romance Stage - Self explanatory. While this can be the fun "getting to know you" stage, I also feel its insanity and crazy-making behavior. This is the "chemical reaction" stage that cannot sustain itself. It is important NOT to have any expectations or future-making plans at this time and just enjoy it for what it is. While the romance stage, and romantic love can be fleeting, it is also possible to sustain romantic feelings throughout the stages, replaced with a deeper level of commitment and love.

2) Disillusionment Stage - You mean everything isn't all hunky dory and you don't always agree? In this stage, reality sinks in. While the first stage is focused on similarities and how much you have in common, the second stage starts to see a partner's flaws and weaknesses. You may start to argue more and the important thing is learning how to communicate effectively.

3) Power Struggle Stage - This is when most break-ups or divorce happens. While a couple is still integrating into you + me = us, it can be hard to figure out teamwork, which, in my opinion, is one of the most important things in a successful relationship (among friendship and trust). You may fight about boundaries, and fighting and conflict may increase into "normal" interaction. Many couples find themselves stuck in a rut in this stage and end up becoming resentful. You may think your partner is needy, self-centered, uncaring or are unable to trust them. People communicate often from a place of neediness and hurt.

4) Stability Stage - You start to accept your partner for who they are and realize you can't change them. That's OK. You accept eachother's differences and are able to relax and become more peaceful. You "agree to disagree". In this stage, it is important to reconnect with your sense of individuality and independence if that was lost in the romantic "joined at the hip" stage. Risk of growing apart can happen in this stage so it is also important to rekindle some romance or maintain a connection. Since this is the 2nd most common stage of break-ups and divorce, it is also known as the "crossroads" stage.

5) Commitment Stage - You have an excellent understanding of who you are and who your partner is and make an active, conscious choice to be with them, regardless of their faults and weaknesses. You no longer need your partner, but choose to be with them and share together. You truly love and support one another and have eachother's best interests in mind as well as your own. You are a team and there is a vision for the future, with shared life goals and values.

* * *

As my relationship drew to an end over a year ago, teetering between stage 3 and 4 and back to 3 again, I realized that about the only thing we did "right" is not marry. Our romance stage was loaded with expectation for marriage and commitment that would not come; false promises and illusions. By the time stage 2 and 3 rolled along, the expectations of the past didn't fit the present and the once thought of future was no longer in the picture.

Couples aren't truly ready to marry until stage 5, but only 5% of the population get there! It is a relationship Zen that is hard to reach, and a recent NY Times article, "Married (Happily) With Issues" suggests a "good enough marriage" is, well, good enough, because expecting a relationship to provide happiness or stability is naive, at best, and allowing your partner room for growth is affirming. It is hard enough balancing your self without throwing another person into the mix (or if you're a fan of open relationships, another and another...).

The year 2009 has taught me a "stage four" stability in a challenging way. Endless nights of crying, not eating, hyperventilating, and insomnia. Replaced with nights out socializing, making meaningful, new friendships, and a renewed sense of spirituality that has helped my inner peace and calm. I learned how to reassemble myself and relearned who I am. I feel more myself than I ever did in my relationship and I gained my independence and felt at my "crossroads" that the stability stage had to happen solo. And it did. And in a big way, it will continue to be my lesson for 2010 as I volunteer in a foreign country and move abroad. It is my hope that with a greater sense of independence, stability and balance that I never achieved before entering my last relationship, my next relationship, stages and all, will go more smoothly. Inner stability and a comfortableness in your own skin will help integration from me + you = me + you + us.

In theory.

In practice?

I'll let you know when I get there.

All I Want for Christmas is Love

People tell me I have courage. I never once thought that doing what I do is courageous. It's doing what I have to do. It's following my heart, even when it broke my heart. Sure, maybe that's courage. But what I find truly courageous is Love. Not romantic love, though that can certainly be part of it, but the ability to love someone with all your being. The ability to have compassion towards fellow citizens. Motherly love, familial love, friendship love, romantic love. I'm ready to embrace Love, experience Love and be taught by Love in all its forms. But settling? I refuse to settle. And letting someone in romantically and making a commitment? I am terrified. Love, to me, is terrifying. The scariest thing I can do, in my eyes, is love someone and let them in. And in the back of my head, I wonder if my restless soul is me just avoiding Love. Yet, that can't be true because I know I will have many opportunities to experience Love, which has no boundaries. Somehow, I know I'll be OK. And when I'm ready, I will let someone in to share my life. But not today. I'm just doing what I do. Happy, content, and balanced.

All I want for Christmas is Love.

God, I'm such a hippy.

Not Romantic Love. That's too little. I want Love in all its glorious forms. I want love to teach me, enlighten me, and inspire me. I want the kind of love that gives me hope this Christmas season that there are better things than XBoxes, iPhones, and Kindles. I want the kind of love that reaches out to strangers and offers them empowerment that they can do something positive to help our neighbors, in our communities, and in the world. As Anne Frank once said, "No one has ever become poor by giving."

This Christmas, I want to do my part by canvassing for Children International. I want to reconnect with a local non-profit that offers shelter, help, and support to homeless youth through art and education; an organization that I once donated my time and talents to as a graphic designer. I want to Give in ways that can't be taught in a romantic relationship, and ways that surpass the carnal pleasures and neediness of sex. This is the love that matters. I refuse to marry for romantic love; it is too fleeting. But friendship love, the kind of love for a healthy exuberance of sharing and giving, this is the love that matters. And I have a feeling that this great love will teach me more about romantic love than romantic love itself. No, I am not afraid of love. I am just afraid of the hurt and pain that stems from a place of need in my typical romantic love encounters. I want to rise above from an unhealthy form of love into something more life affirming.

This December, Gwen asks us to recap the year's "Best of". My Best blog find of the year is dedicated to love: http://leloveimage.blogspot.com/

It is a collaboration, as love should be, of essays and articles dedicated to love.

Archive Monday: In My Shoes

visions of my 19 year-old self, pulled from archive.org:

friday aug 23rd
in my shoes
2002 11:19pm

mp3 >> mission to mars by strung out



i like..
crunching autumn leaves
popping drink lids and
drawing you naked.



quick 45 minute drawings of a live model today in art class. i enjoyed working on black paper. and i enjoy drawing the female form better than the male. it's much more shapeful... more to concentrate on and draw.



my self portrait rendering was critiqued today as well. the assignment was to choose a famous painting with at least one human figure in it and replace the face with your face. so voila.. straw hat by peter paul rubens. my teacher said rubens would be proud. :) [look ma! i have cleavage! hah.. i wish]

i can tell this is going to be random...

those public transit nazi fux0rs got me again the other day. i got caught with the youth fare ticket and now i have to pay a $75 fine to the government. oh joy. it was my second offence [in less than two weeks!] so i was not spared by a warning this time. honostly, i'm more upset at myself--for not having the bullshitting skills to get away with it--than i am at having to pay that much money. as soon as i refund my bridesmaid dress, i'll have enough. i'm more upset that i can't lie. and that truth gets me in trouble. so when i TRY to lie, it still gets me in trouble because..i'm horrible at it. i feel like a let down. it sounds dumb, but i feel like i let myself down. so i can't beat the system! big deal.. but it IS! it means i can't be outspoken.. can't stand up for myself. gotta grit my teeth and let them know who's boss... them. =/

but this is not the case! *i* should be boss. *i* should have the guts enough to confidently tell them i am 18! instead, i quietly mumble.. which shows what? WEAKNESS. unconfidance! that perhaps i'm not telling the truth... did i tell you i can't lie? *i* should have the guts enough to say i've no id since i don't drive.. which is the half-truth, really. but instead, i willfully give them my id knowing full well i'm fucked. but what else can i do? when asked questions ("how old are you ma'am?"), i can lie alright. my answer may not be as confident as i'd like but... that's me with or without the truth. when told to do something, however, i can not weasel and lie my way out of it.. i can't even try. so thus why i'm not cut out to try and "beat the system". so thus why i kick myself at my little failure. and it all stems from my lack of being outspoken. a trait i dislike about me... remnants of my shyness. to remind myself that i still am that shy girl at times... and i kick myself.

as for the bridesmaid dress refund... i was going to be a bridesmaid at my friend's wedding. but now she's decided to get married at vegas...in a *chapel*. nevertheless, excluding her friends from the wedding. because none of us can afford flying out there just to see her get wed off. nor do i think we WANT to. at least, i don't. i really don't understand the significance of getting married in las vegas. and i feel like i've lost a friend. i want the old n back. before she had three jobs, a boyfriend, and wedding plans. she has no life to her. are weddings suppose to do this? suck the life out of you?? she used to be fun. we used to hang out at shows. now all she does is work. the last time we went to a show, we left early and got refunds because she noticed bags under her eyes and started complaining about being "too tired". when really, her appearance probably psyched her out and willed herself to feel fatigued because of it. she was about to see her boyfriend the next day after all. and we can't look horrible in front of the boyfriend figure now can we? *rolls eyes* this is the man that supposedly unconditionally loves you and she's worried about bags under her eyes or farting around him??? maybe i have it all wrong, because i could never be in her shoes, but it seems like she's missing out and sacrificing her youth for 'stableness'. when rushed might not be all too stable in the long run.

Lighthouse

Lighthouse

Lightbox

A light parcel

Emitting towards my lonely shore

A dense fog covering

A hazy remembrance

Emerges on my distant shore

Last night

I dreamt of pirates

Drowning over mistrust

Misdeeds and

Missed chances

It left me feeling horrible

I killed the navigator

So I could navigate myself

Against the misty terrain

The waves lapped up as we

Approached the secluded beach

While No Man is an Island

I'd like to think there's something more

In my lighthouse

Leading the way

The fog clears

And hope turns

For something better

I awake from the dream

Renewed

Replenished and

Reawakened

One Single Impression: Lighthouse

Life is Weird

A year ago, I owned a house, and a dog. WTF, life? You are weird.

Don't get me wrong, I love dogs. Every time I go on a run, or walk, my mind jogs the days I had a leash in hand and a little jack russell terrier pulling ahead. I imagine myself writing a letter to him. More for myself, of course, and not the dog, who can't actually read like Wishbone. Fuji: sweet like the apple, and adventurous like the mountain. Fuji, sweet and adventurous like me! Or at least how I'd like to be, or how I try to live my life to be. People used to tell me he was the perfect dog for me. "Little and cute like you!" Yeah, I always thought being "cute" sounded too much like a dog. But I digress... Where were we? Oh yes.

Life is Weird.

This part of my life feels like such a dream now. I can't even believe it was real. Surely, it wasn't? Surely, I have just woken up and finally started living? If you know me, if I know me, you would know that owning a house is out of character. Because really? I don't settle. I am a free-spirit. A restless soul. House, fence, kids and a dog? It's not for me. Not now. Possibly, not ever.

See, we bought the fence. And kids, it's more than just a fence. We bought the trees. It's more than just the trees. I think I cried the day we planted them because It felt like we were trying. I didn't know what to do, or what I was doing, but we were trying. Hell, I don't even know what the heck I'm doing now, but life is weird like that. Stumbling to find the pieces and looking back at the puzzle of memories hoping to figure out the picture. The big picture? I have no clue. I have no fucking clue and I doubt anyone else does either, really. No matter how many people claim they do have a clue, people don't know anything. The one thing I know is that I don't know. And you know what? I'm OK with that. I haven't always been. But I am now. I'm humbled by that. Life is weird like that. And I'm trying. All you can ever do is try.

People tell me I have courage for doing what I'm about to do. In just six short weeks from now, I will be traveling to India to volunteer in the Himalayas and moving to the Philippines. I am no stranger to the Philippines; I was born there. But I have not been back in six years, and always, my visits have been two months or less. Just slices of my life. How weird it will be to live there for a year, to reacquaint with my family, to know my roots, my culture, from the perspective of a Westernized Filipino-American. I look forward to the marriage proposals I'm sure I'll receive. The crazy traffic and five story malls. The fiestas, celebration, and my first tropical Christmas. I look forward to my cousin's elementary school graduation. And the look on her face when I give her her first pair of Converse. Black high tops. The kid has style.

A lot can happen in a year. Despite the unknowns, despite everything being "in the air", despite joining the ranks of unemployment and being financially unstable, I am happier now. More content, and the most balance I have ever felt in my life. And so, for the moments in life that are "good" and "bad", perhaps they are something else. The Yin and Yang completing their coexistence. Reminding me that life is weird.

[Sunday Scribblings: Weird]

Beauty

It's beautiful outside. The kind of beauty where the wind hits my face and the cool mid-Autumn breeze gently rustles fallen leaves across the suburbia road. The kind of beauty where inspiration seeps through my veins as I breathe in the fresh air and glimmer of sunshine, and smile.

Passing by my old elementary school, I notice kids in the outdoor corridors lined up next to class. I hear them laugh and can't help but think they're laughing at me, running past them with the latest fashion of camel toe and high water workout pants that seem so uncool; too long to be 3/4 pants like they're supposed to be on my too short legs. I wonder if kids these days know about things like camel toe, but I wouldn't be too surprised if they do.

Around the corner, I past the playground and see kids happily swinging. It must be recess time. My mind takes me back to the time I was in grade school, a different playground then, but the same outdoor corridors. I swear the playground used to be a lot bigger, better, funner. Playing tag with boys, beating them at wall ball, and doing the "Mary Poppins" on the pole that strangely resembles a stripper move. Memories of walking down the road, a mere three blocks, to get to school with the rest of the kids from my babysitter's house. I'd get in trouble for walking ahead of the rest of the kids since they walked too slow for me. Stay with the group! My babysitter would tell me. I smile at the thought. Even then, I was a Solitary Panda, marching to my own beat.

I'm back home again. Living with my parents in the Portland suburbs before I leave for India, and Asia. I'm out of work, and about to press the oh shit button soon. Like, oh shit, how am I going to make extra money for only a month 1/2? Like, oh shit, I'm going to the Philippines with no real plan as to how to live. That's how I roll, I guess. By the seed of my pants, but even that's got me feeling uncomfortable. For now. It doesn't really matter. What matters is that it's beautiful outside, and the Autumn leaves are rustling, and the sun is out. I am present.