on to living, the second time around

first times are mostly unexpected, accidents or serendipity
reviews help in the choosing, as excerpts and covers
the allure of reading a book for the first time ---
discovery, novelty and the mystery of not really knowing what you're getting

time off from work gave me some time to give in to my book lust
happy to have finally gotten a copy of the interpreter of maladies
for 50 cents from the hurstville library annual book sale
i have also loaned the great gatsby, in large print because it's the only available copy

but this isn't about books to read
nor is this about books i read about a million times
like the little prince and the velveteen rabbit
which i find comfort in -- their simplicity never fails to perplex me

this is about the luxury of reading a book for the second time
i was surprised that it actually brings an illogical tingling sense of excitement
i can be nostalgic, i wonder what made me like something
i also think back on what i possibly missed out, but most of the time without regret

i have read the chronicles of a death foretold twice
the second time was more mindful than the first, with the intent to understand
to really listen (or read for that matter), i am glad i did

then there's catcher in the rye
which i didn't like when i read it back in highschool
it wasn't a required reading, but joel was reading it
i read it again recently
the story didn't change, but i have
this time i found it a joy to read and holden, someone to remember

i was deciding which book to read next and i was looking at my gabriels
(which thankfully ivy brought to sydney)
there are 3 books i still haven't read

settled to read one hundred years of solitude again
i would like to think of it as putting things in perspective
i need to remember what made me read him in the first place
before i start on the other 3 first-time books
as i hold it in my hands, i feel more uncertain, unsure
"what if it doesn't turn out the way i expected?"

i am suddenly reminded that nothing turns out as expected
that's why i find life so darn hard to live
the same reason why living is interesting
all the same, i want to stay alive for a moment longer to know what happens next

second times can be insightful and are far from dull
they are about deliberately wanting to, not just chancing upon
but i have to remember though, i can't always afford a repeat performance

i am busy clicking my mouse

in the meantime

i am now used to pushing the switch down to turn the lights on.

i no longer wonder what microsoft has to do with cleaning when asked "where's the powerpoint i can plug this vacuum into?"

i got the hang of riding a bus or a car and don't feel like crashing into other vehicles each time. i am especially proud that i now know which direction to look first when crossing the street.

i revel in the fact that i live with both the conveniences of a metropolis and a country home. i still find sydney beautiful, more so on a fine clear day and i enjoy the peace and quiet at nighttime. (yes, i can actually hear crickets like i used to, growing up in kidapawan and makilala.)

i am now used to people telling me my english is good but i still think i'm better off with my mouth shut: i still say "lag out" when i mean "log out" or "CrappingApp" for "CroppingApp".

i am still taxed as much as i was before but this time, i don't get taxed additionally for necessities but taxed heavily for luxuries. eating out, getting a haircut and feminine pads are taxed additionally. however, i get my thyroid meds for half the price i used to pay plus my regular visit to the doctor is free. i do not pay a premium for water, food and electricity but internet connection is a different story.

fruits abound and can be very sweet, but no mango here even comes close to the one i grew up with. i find the people kinder, (as, in my opinion, they fight lesser battles) but family and friends are still being missed.

a year has gone by and i am getting enough sleep.
God is indeed good.

just-because-i-don't-paint therapy

*

'one for the road', he'd say

as he was drinking from his cup of coffee,
he kept on seeing her.
as smoke was rising from the ashtray,
he knew he should stop.

the grass, fine and sparse, her hair
the clouds dance, her laughter
the feel of the paper cup, her unlotioned hand
the brown of the timber chair, her eyes
the coldness of the aluminum table, her goodbye

she left without turning back
not even to see the door slam behind her
she left with no trace of regret
not even for the early times they shared

he gathered the ashes that fell on the table
washed down the coffee with a cup of cold water
said his thank you to the staff
put on his bag on his shoulder then walked away
after lighting another cigarette

repeat.

eleven degrees

i am a sucker for melancholy.

i love stories that weigh much of sadness.
my choices almost always exclude stories with happy endings.

maybe because such dismal stories ring truer ---
as nothing lasts in this world.
happy endings are not really endings, they are beginnings.
but then again, despairing endings can also be seen as beginnings...

so, with nothing really settled, i still would opt for despondence.

crying brings such a relief that when a certain mood strikes me, i have 3 readily available movies i'd watch over and over:
1. The Royal Tenenbaums
2. Lost in Translation
3. 5 Centimeters Per Second
no, i don't watch them in a particular order, and definitely not watch them in one sitting.

i am reading again.

i visited one bookshop after my visit to the doctor and found J.D. Salinger's Franny and Zooey.
(even when i am not reading, i still enjoy going to bookshops. and if a book interests me, in one way or another, i'd buy it.)
i distinctively remember the staff, on getting my payment, telling me, "I just finished reading that one. A very good read, I'd say."

it turned out to be more than a good read:
i fell in love with the Glass family.
it somehow cast a spell on me and i'm back to reading ---
while waiting for the train, on the train, at home, even at my desk at work during lunch time.

today, on my way to work, i read "For Esmé – with Love and Squalor".
while reading it for the first time, i had the feeling of having read the story before. but i could not remember when, how, or if at all.
it moved me to melancholy as surely as eating marshmallows make me lose my appetite for a proper meal.

say "ta" for thank you

melbourne's cbd is pretty
as european city pretty, they say
i haven't been to europe so i am taking it as that.

it was warm when i flew in
and rather mild for its nasty reputation:
warm one moment then chilly the next,

it didn't send me off without showing it's true colors through
got chillier almost touching biting cold
my winter coat was handy, especially on the last week of autumn

pretty, cute, very
lovely backdrop
for maturely childish phone calls

i had a rather busy week, conversational skills put to the test
met some who said they are yet to meet someone from the phils who's not happy,
joy's the name and i am just trying to live up to it

it was a jaw dropping experience
as anyone would when stopped on a walkway by a total stranger
"you are really pretty! this is ridiculous but i just wanted to tell you that."

a new sight is a new sight
where cars are impatient and trams are determinely passive
but would rather go around by foot and be surprised.

i watched juno last night.
vanessa's compelling desire to be a a mother
and juno's courage to go through childbirth reminded me of a friend.
pen lovingly and courageously endured a couple of months of bed rest for her son.
today, she is fervently praying he will get out of the incubator soon.

love. courage. friendship. life.
celebrate with us.


Ticket prices --- 500 pesos or 200 pesos.
Depending on how much you would like to contribute.
It comes with one free drink :)

gorgeous friday

i drew this to remember the design of the swatch i am wearing.

i like to look back, to reminisce.
maybe because the past helps me make sense of the present
and makes me anticipate the future.

recently, i remembered i don't know many mothergoose rhymes.
having been born in a laid back town,
i never heard of this until i got a book from a garage sale:

A wise old owl lived in an oak.
The more he heard, the less he spoke.
The less he spoke, the more he heard.
Why aren't we all like that wise old bird?

and today i remember that Christ died so i might have life.
and He lives so i might have it in full.

thank you gmail

just when i have been musing(again) about changing careers,
i am reminded that being a web developer has its perks.
yup, i am mababaw, but these stickers made my day.

p.s. i still wonder why there isn't a tv series starring programmers.

questions to answers

regardless of my relationship with that who passed away..

news of death brings with it a respectful solemnity
a reminder that i too shall pass:
all too soon than what is hoped for
or all too late when hastening death's arrival.

then there are deaths that make me sad
usually with a tinge of regret ---
of lost chances, of opportunities not grasped
of choices not made.

ivy called to tell me of itiu's death,
an uncle who was like a second father to us.
he who was
bold in reprimanding us
wise in giving us advise knowing it would not be popular with us
fun in laughing at mistakes made
courageous in taking us to new adventures

he who had been known to fall asleep rather quickly and snored loudly -
itiu who was proud of what we have become, cheering us to continue on.
his death brought grief.

in grief i celebrate his life.

sunscreen

*

nobody really talks to oneself, his shadow always hears.

she was his shadow and she loved him.

his fascination for his shadow was shortlived.
a year or two maybe. while he was growing up and curious about everything.
however, as he grew, the ordinary things ceased to keep his attention.
he was always in pursuit of novelty.

she, however, existed only for him.

she watched him learn build cars from blocks and castles from sand;
cheered for him when he ran his first race;
loitered with him on the alley as he nervously awaited test results;
rolled with him on grass as he experienced his first kiss.

the days were hers and sunshine her kin ---
but she loved him well into the night,
even when she was no longer seen.

loose in the translation

for almost half a year, i haven't taken a bath:

"looks like you slept in josephine."
"good morning glen. nope, i just took a lazy bath."
"a bath? in the morning?"
"yup. why not?"
"one usually takes bath at night. you don't mean a shower do you?"
"a shower is a bath, isn't it?"
"a bath is when you soak in the tub."
"we don't have a tub at our place."
"you took a lazy shower josephine."
"ok then, i took a lazy shower, glen."

***

rafa is the reason i watch men's tennis:

interviewer: "there's a lot of interest in your new outfits. some of your fans on the websites don't seem to like them too much, your clothes."
rafa: "what happened? the fans didn't like?"
interviewer: "some of them don't."
rafa: "sorry (laughs). i don't know. no, i am feeling ok. for sure, when you have a change, some people like other people don't like. for sure with the sleeveless, not everybody like the sleeveless. right now gonna be the same, no? but anyway, is a change. but i feel good like this. important thing in the end is not the clothes; is the ball and racket and play well."

rooting for you rafa! may you win the open.

keep walking

i am not the type who obeys rules to the letter. i usually cheat pedestrian traffic lights. until 3 weeks ago when i noticed that kids had seen me cross on a red light.
i owe them my obedience.

this is not very easy to do. i know it is perfectly safe, as traffic lights for cars are not perfectly synchronized with those for pedestrians. and crossing the same street every work day results to familiarity that gives one the confidence to cross safely. but no matter the logic behind it, i am breaking the rules. and that makes it harder for me to teach the younger generation to obey them.

so i start now.


***

currently wondering about the last time i made new year's resolutions. first year college maybe or the second. then stopped when i realized i am not very good with lists.

may you have a great one.