tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-377645722024-02-28T16:35:22.109+08:00legrungethe ramblings of a wandering soulle grungehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337623548261394932noreply@blogger.comBlogger102125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37764572.post-19327647247327134222018-08-17T15:52:00.001+08:002018-08-17T15:52:43.804+08:00<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">There is only one you. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Only one love at a time. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Only one heart that beats. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Only one life. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Make the most of it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Try not to waste moments. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Live.</span>le grungehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337623548261394932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37764572.post-58374426784221239242016-09-21T09:37:00.000+08:002016-09-21T09:37:01.809+08:00Your word is the sword<br />
That pierced through me<br />
Cutting me in two<br />
The million parts of myself pieced together<br />
Through the years<br />
Once more torn apartle grungehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337623548261394932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37764572.post-70081325949495170892016-09-05T09:51:00.002+08:002016-09-05T09:51:35.244+08:00A day is but a total of random moments<br />
Life then could be just a summation<br />
Of seemingly random moments<br />
<br />
<br />le grungehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337623548261394932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37764572.post-62875076177742223192016-08-31T11:28:00.001+08:002016-08-31T11:33:51.084+08:00<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">words come</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">in torrents, one over the other</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">voiceless, toneless</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">but strong</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">persistent </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">words</span><br />
<br />le grungehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337623548261394932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37764572.post-23268793641156265202016-02-09T23:16:00.001+08:002016-02-09T23:16:23.740+08:00What it is<div>There is no rhyme nor reason </div><div>It springs from somewhere I can't quite define</div><div>There is only this, there is only now</div><div>Because any strong feeling is impatient</div><div>It longs to feel free, to shout, to dance, to sing</div><div>That inevitable unstoppable feeling</div><div>Go on, just let it </div>le grungehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337623548261394932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37764572.post-90021422132954657772014-11-12T00:05:00.001+08:002016-02-09T23:17:16.233+08:00BeingHow does one become? How can one just be? Whenever I say I am being myself, what exactly do I mean? How can one verify that I am indeed being my true self when no other person can know precisely how or who I am really? Can I even claim to knowing my real self?<div><br></div><div>There are a few things that I can be certain about. Thinking about them now makes me realize they are fewer than I first thought.</div>le grungehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337623548261394932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37764572.post-64070878799194685072014-03-27T09:38:00.003+08:002014-03-27T09:38:37.001+08:00Open letter to a good friend who is gone.<div class="MsoNormal">
Hi! It’s one of those
days again. You know what I mean. And I’m very sure of your would-be response
to my ranting – “if you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen” or your
“you should see the doughnut and not the hole” or better yet your own version
of Murphy’s Law. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I guess some people are indeed irreplaceable. I have tried saying the same things (you know
how endless these things I complain about can be) to other people and I get an
almost similar or entirely different reaction/advice. God knew what He was doing in making each
person unique. Otherwise, I wouldn’t
have been compelled to write this open letter.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You’ve come and gone and I’m still here, with almost the
same whining, almost the same sentiments during such episodes. You have come to a point when your only
retort to my whining is ‘you chose to be here’.
What do I say to that? Looking
back, I pose the same question to myself.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wonder what you would have to say this time. I wonder what other words of wisdom I will
elicit from you. It’s one thing knowing
I can still say all these over and over again and quite another knowing there’s
no you who would react to them. It would
be an understatement to say I miss these conversations with you. I cannot imagine how much pain your very dear
one feels missing endless conversations with you.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is not to say that I remember you only during times
when I feel this way – out of sorts. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Life went on for those left behind. It does for your very dear ones (V and
A). It does for those countless people
you’ve touched with your generous spirit, your zest for life, your optimism,
your own brand of making light whatever situation one finds himself in. </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thank you for still being able to lift my spirits even now
that you’re gone. With this open letter
I am able to do just that. The only
question is would I have the chance to post this.</div>
le grungehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337623548261394932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37764572.post-24745289252989486842013-07-09T15:30:00.000+08:002013-07-25T00:26:49.399+08:00at-en<div class="MsoNormal">
What is left for one to do</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When all hope is gone</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When tomorrow is a foreboding of more grievous things to
come</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When something wonderful has been irretrievably lost.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What is left for one to think</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When all one’s thoughts go back to one thing</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">When all ideas converge at a single point – you.</div>
le grungehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337623548261394932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37764572.post-87158401927949251662013-06-10T23:26:00.001+08:002013-06-10T23:26:07.614+08:00FadingThe sound of music drawing to a close. It's called fading.<div>The color of a shirt left under the heat of the sun. It will surely go fading.</div><div>The intense feeling of 'firsts' once these have started to go. It is fading.</div><div>The enchantment over an ideal that has been the center of one's life. Fading.</div><div>Most things, tangible or not, go the natural course of fading.</div><div>How much more can this endure against the strong force of the word? Fading.</div>le grungehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337623548261394932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37764572.post-30543163813346287702013-02-15T11:06:00.000+08:002013-02-15T11:06:18.491+08:00-dreamy-<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It is way too easy to be carried away by music, to be placed
in a mood where you feel untouchable, sublime, free. It is way too easy to lose yourself in the
wonder and promise of a utopian world, a place of bliss. Some people change. Others do by not changing at all. I see myself in between. The dilemma of myself to always see this
person that represents me in between. Suspended
somewhere in the middle of everything. Having
left some place but not having arrived somewhere yet.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Always in perpetual motion, continual pursuit of something
elusive. The appeal of the promise that
is not quite formed yet has always been tempting. And I have time and time again gave in to
that temptation. The lure of something
indelible but wonderful has kept me captured.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I am neither practical nor grounded. People who know me will readily agree. I enjoy the wait. For something only God knows what. </span></div>
le grungehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337623548261394932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37764572.post-7729394101266278662012-12-11T15:01:00.001+08:002012-12-11T15:01:17.760+08:00mornings made beautifuli was never a morning person. in my 3 decades on this beautiful planet, i remember very few mornings when i woke up early to welcome the beauty of the day, the sky changing hues as dawn approaches, the melody of birds chirping atop the trees or the roosters giving their morning call. i remember so few instances when i was awake before the start of day. needless to say, i am a night person.
<br />
<br />
*somehow when i leave something like this piece to return to days, months, perhaps even years after, i just couldn't find that mood again. it eludes me now however hard i try. it's just gone. replaced by some other mood, some other inspirations or the opposite. so much for beautiful mornings.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />le grungehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337623548261394932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37764572.post-45534688712901419872012-12-11T14:56:00.000+08:002012-12-11T14:56:01.968+08:00there is a piece of other people in me. i might be a conglomeration of little pieces of other people. i could be someone or something before. and i believe a part of me will become a piece of someone someday. call it reincarnation, call it anything you like. but the idea that the million individuals living on this planet at the moment is tantalizing. wouldn't that make one a super person? interesting.le grungehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337623548261394932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37764572.post-88119109141792650312012-11-07T14:52:00.002+08:002012-11-07T14:52:34.150+08:00post imported from another site dated 08.11.08<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Climbing
Mt. Daguldul proved to be more difficult than I first expected. We
scheduled the climb two (2) weeks ago and prayed to the gods that it won't rain
or that no storm will come on the scheduled date. My sister and her
officemate even did the "sun dance" to coax the heavens to suspend
the rainfall even only for a weekend. I guess the gods do want to
see us sweat over the climb or the sun dance did its magic trick. We had
a very sunny weather last weekend.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We
started the day last Saturday (August 9) early. For people who know me,
that would mean really early for me. My brother insisted that we leave
the house in LB at around 2am. I said that would be too early and it's
quite difficult to find yourself without a ride in the wee hours of the morning
and without a bench to sit on. So we agreed to leave at 4am. We
were 11 people plus 1 who will come from his house and will meet us before we
take the jeepney to Calamba. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">After
the usual morning bath and breakfast before a climb, we finally left the house
at 5am (an hour later than the agreed time). Nevertheless, we were in
Lipa early enough. We took a bus from Turbina, Calamba. This took a
shorter time since the bus passed through the Star Tollway. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Upon
arrival in Lipa, my brother had to wait for a former classmate who wasn't sure
if he could come with us. It took us almost an hour to wait for the guy
who as it turned out couldn't really join the climb. Then we left Lipa
riding a jeepney to San Juan. The driver agreed to take us directly to
Brgy. Hugom where we will start the climb. The fare was P120.00
each. It was fair enough so off we went.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It
wasn't difficult to find the beach front where we'd start the trek. We
had to register at the HEGA (Hugom Environmental Guides Association) where we
were assigned a guide. Registration fee is P35.00 per head and the tour
guide fee for the entire group is P350.00. After a 10-minute wait the
guide arrived and we started the trek. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We
took a 15-minute hike along the shore to the takeoff point. Then we
started the climb without even the usual stretching that is a must. I
suppose my brother who is used to the climb forgot about it or we just didn't
bother. And like I said at the beginning, it was more difficult than I
expected. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Since
the gods I was talking about earlier decided to let the sun shine that weekend,
we climbed Mt. Daguldul under the scorching heat of the sun. We were
sweating and puffing our way up. Yeah, I did sweat some despite my skinny
frame. There were a lot of stopovers as our companions were not all
experienced climbers. Or the last climb they had was years ago. So
we took our time. Along the way, we passed by the famed (there actually were
three of them) halo-halo store. We got to experience the sweet, savory
goodness of Batangas hospitality for P20.00 a glass. It was a welcome
treat after an hour or so ascent to the top. We decided to cook and eat
lunch at the halo-halo store.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Trek
then resumed at 1:00pm. This time it was more difficult since we just had
lunch and we'd much prefer a nap. But being our first time to climb Mt.
Daguldul, we weren't sure how much longer it would take us to reach the
top. We were more concerned with being there before sunset to see the
majestic view. After a few more stopovers we finally reached a
campsite. That would probably be the Gulugod Baboy they were talking
about at the different sites I've visited to know more about Mt. Daguldul.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We
went to the other campsite which was nearer the water source. There were
already a few people there when we arrived. They were the first group up
and were able to take the better spot. Nevertheless, there was more than
enough room for all our tents. It was 4pm when we got to the top and was
still too hot to set up the tents so we just lazed around. Not
surprisingly, I fell asleep on the carabao grass covering the field with a
garbage bag to lie on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Then
the guys pitched our tents (4 in all). One tent was for the guys, my brother's
tent was for my sister and her companions (they're 3 in all) and another one
borrowed by my sister and her officemate from another officemate was for them
and myself (we were 4 girls). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Before
long, the guys were cooking our dinner of corned beef and spicy tuna (canned)
sauteed in oil, tomatoes and onions. The first group who came before us
ate their dinner earlier than we did. We took pictures (lots of them to
be posted later) and went to the water source to freshen up. Yes, girls
need freshening up after an arduous climb under the sun.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
first group who got there ate their dinner early. After a few minutes our
group was ready to eat ours but the guys have started sharing the only bottle
of gin they brought along and decided to eat later. After dinner there
was nothing much to do. A socialization would have been good but our
group was a little shy and the first group started their drinking session after
dinner. Had we known there wasn't much to do at night we would have
brought our own drink. Since we didn't, we simply contented ourselves
with playing cards and turned in early. After all, we were all really
exhausted with the climb.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
next morning we were up before sunrise. As we opened our tent,
behold! The fog surrounding the campsite was as thick as smoke. So
we got our cameras and phones ready to take pictures. They will be posted
soon. As the sun slowly came up, the guys once more prepared our
breakfast. We brought salted eggs, tomatoes, dried fish and noodles for
breakfast. Soon enough we were eating our hearts out. They weren't
much but when shared with friends at the top of a mountain you labored to
climb, it was a feast for us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We
decided to start the trek down earlier so we can pass by the Naambon
Falls. We started at 8:30 and arrived at the falls by 11:00.
The descent was a lot faster than our ascent. We took pictures at the
falls then headed down to give us enough time for swimming at the beach.
Once more, we passed the halo-halo stalls and had our fill. This time,
there was fresh coconut too. Almost an hour of rest at the place then we
resumed our trek. By lunchtime we were at the beach front. The guys
(as always) prepared lunch while we took a swim. We couldn't swim long
since it was almost noon and we were scheduled to leave by 2:30. They
talked with a jeepney driver in the place who agreed to take us back to San
Juan for P55.00 each. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A
short swim and lunch of breakfast leftovers and some luncheon meat and we were
good to go. After the last person had showered and all the trash was in
its proper place, every bag secured and nothing was left, we headed for the
jeep and rode to san juan. Some of us (that includes me) were asleep
during the trip. The short swim and the breeze (dusty that may be) lulled
us to sleep. We arrived at San Juan then rode another jeep to Lipa.
By 4:00 we were in Lipa ready to board the bus once more for LB. My
brother and his friends took a bus to Batangas while the rest of us went to
LB. My sister's friends were bound for Alabang but they decided to ride
with us to Turbina where they took a bus bound for Alabang.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It
was a good weekend. Tiresome really but fun. Our pictures should
describe what we went through. But the soreness of every muscle in my
legs and feet and even in my stomach (how could it hurt?) wouldn't be seen in
the pictures. Suffice it to say that I groan once in a while of
muscle pain and soreness. I am not complaining! It was all
worth it. I can't wait for the next climb.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
le grungehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337623548261394932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37764572.post-72934275734078483932012-11-07T13:13:00.003+08:002012-11-07T13:13:51.735+08:00WORDS<br />
<br />
- how they move things and people<br />
<br />
- how they create pictures in one's head<br />
<br />
- how they paint the world in pink roses<br />
<br />
yeah. just words.le grungehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337623548261394932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37764572.post-15441343416589863602012-01-24T13:30:00.000+08:002012-01-24T13:30:27.674+08:00iced tea plungei was hurrying from office to get to school on time. i had a 6pm class and i wouldn't want to be late. a short torrential rain just stopped as i was leaving the office and the pavement i stepped on, the leaves of the trees in the vicinity, the cars passing by, all of them were wet with the just-stopped rain. the air smelled fresher (if it's even possible in a city like this) and the sun was just showing its late afternoon rays.<br />
<br />
i had to walk the entire stretch of the road cum parking lot to avoid the puddles on the sidewalk. as i approached the gate of the parking lot, i saw a boy probably of 7 years swimming in the pool of cold rainwater formed at the indentation on the ground between the road cum parking lot and the sidewalk lined with plant boxes. he was having the time of his life the way i saw it. he'd dive into the deeper portion of the pool then stand and dive again. then he'd stand and allow his small frame a free fall back first to the cold water exactly like the advertisement of iced tea as seen on tv.<br />
<br />
i couldn't help but grin at the apparent fun the kid was having. had i not been this age and wearing the usual corporate attire that i had to wear to school, i'd probably not be thinking twice and joined him. i couldn't even think of the possibly dirty water he was swimming in. it was clear enough. and as he threw himself back first into the water i smiled again.<br />
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he reminded me of the carefree child in me that i shouldn't be stifling. he reminded me of the many times i myself threw caution to the wind and dove back first on the water feeling like falling on soft bed. he reminded me that there is always the rain after a long drought. that no matter how dismal life seems, there are many little things that we should be thankful about. like the refreshing afternoon rain. like the kid who knew how to have fun. class ought to be more fun after this sight. hopefully.le grungehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337623548261394932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37764572.post-82811426527547315622012-01-04T11:23:00.000+08:002012-01-04T11:24:58.936+08:00lostI have lost the capacity to tell stories<br />The knack for words, the audacity of the bold<br />I have lost it.<br /><br />And for what and why?<br /><br />I will neither blame the bards of old nor the rustle of the wind outside<br />For there is just one reason for this loss<br />This inability to put to words what used to be easy and natural and free<br />I dare not put a name to it<br />In the hope that the inspiration strikes again<br /><br />Someday. Soon.le grungehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337623548261394932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37764572.post-21492643959071424852011-12-05T12:34:00.000+08:002011-12-05T12:35:27.466+08:00..?..if i die a fool's death<br />i'd be happy<br />for dying wise<br />isn't dying at allle grungehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337623548261394932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37764572.post-77364516921474532912011-10-11T13:08:00.002+08:002012-06-19T15:28:00.835+08:00commuteEveryday commute via the light rail transit or more commonly known as LRT is oftentimes eventful, surprising and sometimes downright annoying. The ten trips I take in a week to and from work make me always want to write about them. Not everything comes to mind now that I’ve decided to finally write them down but there are a few instances that linger in my mind, depending on my mood when it happened or on the gravity, rarity, hilarity of the situation.<br />
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Not one to leave house early in order to take a leisurely albeit long trip to office, my LRT experiences happen at its ‘peak hours’. <br />
<br />
-to be continued-<br />
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It took me months to update this entry. I guess as in everything else in my life I get used to thele grungehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337623548261394932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37764572.post-8881150986395295812011-06-30T12:49:00.001+08:002013-07-25T00:25:50.573+08:00darwinFrancis is happy in his new home. He just arrived this morning and he seems adjusted to his new environment already. He’s been introduced to most of the people in the office and they welcomed him like they did Darwin. He may look smaller than Darwin but I assume he’s got the same spunk. Let’s hope he lasts more than a year here. Darwin couldn’t make it longer than 16 months. Talk about short-term.<br> <br>They say I should’ve talked to Darwin more, should’ve encouraged him more, should’ve made sure he’s comfortable where he is. I looked at him every day, tried to gauge how he is and he seemed okay. I’d give him attention, even play with him a little sometimes. Then I wouldn’t see him on weekends and it was fine. He was okay with that.<br><br>Then I was away for one week. I had to attend a workshop outside the office. I didn’t see him then and when I got back he was gone. I didn’t notice it at first but they told me quite sadly that he’s gone. I was smiling as I found it foolish of me not to notice right away. But deep inside I was sad. I didn’t think he’d leave so soon. Was it because I was away for an entire week? Was it because he missed seeing me? was it really my fault that he’s now gone, never to return again?<br><br>We had a good relationship. Most times I may have taken his presence for granted but he was fine with that. He didn’t impose on me surely nor I on him. Yet that wasn’t enough. He had to leave for a higher plain. His time here is finished and I have to let go. Letting go used to be harder to do in the past. But with Darwin it wasn’t that bad nor that difficult. I simply have to accept that he’s happy wherever he is now. I’m just hoping he’s in fish heaven as I write this.le grungehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337623548261394932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37764572.post-24186949814390372962011-03-17T12:27:00.002+08:002011-03-17T12:33:10.831+08:00beyondThe swell of tide rushing in, engulfing me with foams choking my breath.<br /><br />I gasped for life waving my hands wildly trying to stay afloat. All the swimming lessons gone in that moment. I slowly felt my limbs growing heavy as I stopped gasping for air.<br /><br />Slowly, I sank to the bottom of the sea. Beyond saving. Beyond the reach of light. Beyond a place for the living.le grungehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337623548261394932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37764572.post-26166650208672076752011-03-17T12:19:00.001+08:002011-03-17T12:39:07.867+08:00yellowmy ruled pad. my wednesday clothes. sunshine.<br />teeth aged with time. eyes dirty with age and smoke. cuticle filled with chalk.<br />the paleness of one's face. the lightbulb overhead. the cab that just sped away.le grungehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337623548261394932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37764572.post-78668232290512849992011-02-24T12:09:00.000+08:002011-02-24T12:12:23.727+08:00sikyoHe sits in one of the chairs casually taking off his hat. With his right bare hand, he scoops a mouthful of rice and a bit of viand and puts it in his mouth. Thus begins the meal of a security guard at the fastfood store I’ve been frequenting lately. <br /><br />The guard continues to eat his dinner oblivious of the occasional glance I throw at him. His hair is a little disheveled from the uniform hat he wears the entire day. He keeps scooping mouthfuls while his left arm rests idly on the table. After a few minutes he finishes off his dinner with a soda drink this time held in his left hand. He rises shortly from his seat having finished the single serving of meal he is entitled to for the day.<br /><br />Leaving his hat lying upside down on the table, he goes to the kitchen or probably the comfort room to wash his hands. He then returns to the table, picks up his hat, puts it on and resumes his post by the door bidding an incoming customer good evening.le grungehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337623548261394932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37764572.post-38115860548637359212011-02-22T12:17:00.002+08:002011-02-22T12:21:22.736+08:00amid the noiseamid the noise of people busy at their selfish affairs<br />the piped in music that sounded like samba<br />the smell of food on the tables of oblivious diners<br /><br />i sat and wrote of how i feel<br />once more having the liberty of time<br />minutes ticking to the appointed hour<br />i wait and bide my time<br /><br />noise notwithstanding<br />i hear only the murmur of my heart<br />faint, inaudible but clear<br />it does not speak plainly<br />for words cannot articulate what if feels<br /><br />amid the noise, i am at peacele grungehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337623548261394932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37764572.post-7662735533128355772011-02-22T12:12:00.002+08:002011-02-22T12:17:23.625+08:0002.21.11under the glaring neon lights i blink<br />disorienting feeling, at a loss<br />the silent voice in me <br />starting to awaken<br /><br />life gets approximated<br />by the goings and comings of people<br /><br />encapsulated from the harsh cold<br />ensconced in the warmth of your smile<br /><br />lights went out<br />but the twinkle in your eyes remainsle grungehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337623548261394932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37764572.post-8284359218458198912011-02-21T12:21:00.004+08:002011-02-21T12:23:16.664+08:0002.11.11time drags by as i sit<br />and listen and think <br />of precious minutes lost<br /><br />time runs against me<br />who wasted it before its due<br />time lost <br />forever gone.le grungehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00337623548261394932noreply@blogger.com0