zhinesade's surreal world

everything about nothing

Saturday, June 25, 2005

Easy on Sunday Morning

At last, Blogger got some sense and put in the "Attach Picture" function (or whateva-the-hell-you-wanna-call-it thing) in their system. Haha. Perfect!

Took this pic in Costa Rica, on the Sunset Cruise (yes, I knew you were gonna ask about that).

Now, on to more unimpressive matters.

Some people talk too much. Some people talk too little. And it should matter, but it normally doesn't. You know why? Because no matter what one says, very few people listen.
Fine, fine. I may have been too quick to judge (I'm also very opinionated...but that's another matter altogether...ahem). Some people listen, though. Thus, a conversation, a meeting of two minds, ensues. Now, some meeting of minds are quintessential moments in self-actualization. They are remembered in tones and shades, not in visions. They represent a certain growth due to affirmations of being, an emancipation of sorts, if you will. These are conversation snippets that you will remember long after you've said your goodbye's. And you cherish them. And hear them again and again and again. Even after centuries of emotion have passed between you and the other person. Sometimes, you even forget the person, but the words are etched in your memory like the lullaby your mother used to sing you to sleep.
"Maybe you're looking too hard. And'yan lang sila. Sometimes, they're in the places where we least look for them. Pero marami yan. Try looking for the ones not right in front of you, but those in your peripheral view."
"Alam mo, sila, nagsesettle kasi hindi nila alam kung ano yung dapat o pwede pa nilang hanapin. Eh, ikaw, papayag ka ba naman mag-settle kung alam mo na kung ano talaga yung hinahanap mo?"
"Babalik din yan. They always do. 'Di mo ba napapansin?"
"I can't see my life without you in it."
"Kung kailangan mong pagdaanan yan, sige lang. Kaysa naman pag matanda ka na, tsaka mo pa mapag-iisipan yang mga 'what-if what if' thoughts na yan."
"Sobra akong comfortable with you. Sumama ka na. Hindi enjoy pag 'di ka sumama. 'Di na lang rin ako sasama."
"I wish there was another you. Maybe, then, pwede sya na lang yung maksama ko for the rest of my life."
"Ikaw lang talaga ang nakaintindi sa akin. Tandaan mo yan."
"I love her. But she knows I think you're my intellectual soulmate. It makes her jealous, but I'm just being truthful."
"Sabi ko, 'Alam mo ba kung sino'ng closest friend ko sa (company name) ? Si (zhinesade's name IRL) .' "
"Pag matatanda na tayo, 'wag na tayong sasayaw ng ganyan ha. Mag-mahjong na lang tayo."
"It's been four years, and I've kept all of the emails we've exchanged. And all of the pictures I have of you."
"I'm letting go. It's my decision."
Caramba! They sound so much cornier written down. But, what the heck. They're out of context here. They're much more meaningful (and much mushier) if I tell the whole story. Come to think of it, though, these words were the conversational focal points remembered because they evoked so much honesty and emotion from the person. It shows a lot about their character and about the relationship.
Sometimes, it bothers me how memories seem to come and go. Today, I remembered someone as the bravest guy who wanted to get to know me. He braved 42 Filipinos, his Danish buddies' hushed tones, and my then-overly-conservative view. And I miss exchanging emails with him. Yesterday, I remembered another someone who used to be a good running partner back in high school. She was one of the first forward-thinkers and open-minded people I came across in my life. Tomorrow, who will it be? Will it be you? Or will it be some random guy I met last week? Or the barista who already knows my name at Starbucks? Or the group I jammed with last April?
Life just holds so much promise. Even as experiences pile up and memories fade away, new ones are made. I wonder if my experiences come quicker than the reutilization of air by trees....Everything is just such a huge mystery, isn't it? It fills the air with excitement and an ungraspable ecstasy that is always within reach, but never completely in your hands because your palms are just too small. Maybe tomorrow, you say to yourself. Aah, the promise of a new day. I like that.
"The more you know, the more you know that you don't know." The mystery that holds us all together. Do we hold on to each other in fear of knowing? Or in fear of being known? Do we hang on for fear of the unknown we still aim to figure out? Or de we hold on to what we don't know in the hopes that we will someday know? "If today was your last day on Earth, would you be doing what you're doing now?" Would you go do the things you haven't yet done and let yourself experience what you will miss? Would you be depressed today for what will happen tomorrow? Or whill you continue to do what you are doing, knowing that what you know about the Earth's ending might be nothing compared to what you don't know about the Earth (and life) in the first place.
I'd drink coffee and sing. And maybe think about how life would've looked like, were it not for the end of the world. I'd probably go dancing, too. And maybe take photos of people reacting to the world-ending news. I definitely would skip work. And maybe I'd go hang out with my dad and sisters and laugh at the family antics.
Maybe. But it's not the end of the world tomorrow. Tomorrow, like today, is the first day of the rest of my life. I will wake up to freshness and crispness and light. Love and laughter will soon follow, I'm sure.
"All that matters in the world is right inside of you." So I'm not scared, really. Because whatever happens, I know I gave it a hundred percent. Every single time. Even when it hurt. Even when I thought I couldn't. Even when it was my last drop. I could be a jack-of-all-trades, but I traded in pretty well, don't you think? How about you? What's stopping you from jumping in and taking it for what it's worth?
That's why I'm easy.
Easy on Sunday morning.

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

Why This Blog?

The question seems to come up in the most unexpected of times, from unexpected people. It comes, nevertheless, and begs to be answered.

(Hopefully, this will also answer questions such as 'Did she really do that?' and 'Does she really think that way?').

I write because I need to heed the voices in my head. Yes, there are voices in my head. And they talk incessantly. Sometimes they make sense. And sometimes they don't. Most of the time, though, I end up realizing that one thought is connected in some way to another. And all of life's little lessons and questions that come out of the blue while I work, play, have coffee, or go to sleep, they're just right there for the picking. So when I deem the time right for me to heed or explore them, writing is an option I can take. I think while I write, and write what I think. Now, if you don't have them small voices that talk to you, then maybe you should listen a little more carefully. It takes practice, mind you. And a little craziness, methinks.

I write because there are stories that need to be told. No, not my stories. These are the stories that invisible people keep secret. Stories that most people think don't happen, but that do really exist. It could have happened to someone you bumped in the mall, or someone you rode the elevator with. In my head, I try to bring justice to the events that take place in other people's lives or in their minds. If I talk to someone and that person had a 'what if this happened?' eureka moment while deciphering their ex-drama, then I try and explore that path. It's like a lady lover's body waiting to be explored. Simply irresistible.

I write because I want something that occupies my mind, aside from the IT nuances and concepts that I've been working with for the past five years (oh goodness, it's been that long? Argh.). Writing, just like reading, keeps my vocabulary robust. When you feel like writing a piece passionately, and want that passion to be felt by the reader (i.e. me, 3 months after the writing has been written hahaha), then using the perfect words is essential. It gives me more clues into what works in speech and communication, and what doesn't. If I write a piece and no one comments, then either I have been too harsh with my words, or have been to shallow in my thinking. On the other hand, if I write something, and a person gives a juicy comment, then that is a thumbs-up to the writing.

Finally, I write because I want to remember. Yes, some things I write did happen, like Canada, Costa Rica, Bahamas, etc. Some events just evoke so much emotion in me that I feel the need to share it with the readers (i.e. I, Me, and Myself) that they might share with my emotion, whatever it is.

So, is everything I write TRUE? Is it always how I think? When I give my point of view, is it genuinely my own true passionate conviction?

Here's a hint. Before you start reading the blog, look up what surreal means.

Once you've got it down to a tee, you can start rereading the posts. Don't worry, we won't look ;-D

Saturday, June 11, 2005

Next chapter, please

Note: I wrote this poem in Nov 1999. I find it soothing, albeit a little pitiful. I think not a lot of fast-forward tracks have come between my writings then and now. I think that's a bad thing, but, at the moment, it seems very appropriate for laying down to rest another chapter in my life. Another one bites the dust.

Turn the page. Don't worry, the story gets nicer in the morrow. And the ending's still a million chapters away.

Kung ako kaya'y nahimlay
sa piling ni Inang Buhay
magbabalik-tanaw ka ba
at tatawa?

Pagdating ba ng mga gabi
at maisip mo ang iyong pagkakamali
bituing ako kaya'y iyong masalisi
sa pagtanong mo sa langit?

At pagkasikat ng mga araw sa umaga
at magising kag may taglay na kakaibang saya
mananahimik ka ba't iisipin
ang mundo noong ako'y naryan pa?

Sa pagmulat, pagkabuhay, at pagpikit ng iyong mga mata
Maiisip mo ba?

Tuesday, June 07, 2005


An itch waiting to be scratched,
I ache to breathe with the touch of your skin
While mounds and mounds
Of faceless stars move in between us

Our paths cross again and again
Without consciousness, with purpose.
You arrive right when I leave.
I come right after you go.

Electricity thrives
With each waking moment that
Separates you from me
And the gods that bid us be.

Tell me something, then.
Is this something you know of?
Is it something that crosses your mind
When you make your presence known?

Triumph over fate
A feat only the heavens can achieve
You and Me, I guess
Will never be, but paths intertwined

For a miniscule moment in time.

You are mine.
In my heart.

Note: Just trying to get my creative juices flowing again...and make this more of a worthy blog-read for people. This poetry brought to you by dreaming about coffee and yosis in a cafe, while listening to murmurs of conversation, good music, and the mundane silence of the rain's pitter-patter. ;D

Coffee, anyone?