The Road to Take in Departure

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I feel I am excited, so excited I can hardly hold the pencil in my trembling hand. I think it is the excitement that only a free man can feel, a free man starting a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain.

Different Seasons: Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption by Stephen King

Tell them that I’ve made the journey
And tell them that my heart is true
I’d like his blessing of forgiveness
Before the angel sends it through
And I will know that I am clean now
And I will dance and the band will play
In the old out to cantina
‘Cause we’ll runneth over the ancient clay.

– Brandon Flowers (Magdalena)

I’ll be graduating in a few hours. I have always imagined this day as a happy, exciting one with dedication letters – and with me without a care in the world. But… I actually feel a bit morose. The thought of starting over, entering a new school with new people as a new student (for the first time) penetrates my soul and depresses me each day. Thirteen years in this damn school, imagine that. These past few days have only been the bests of my life. But then again, I have asked for this much-awaited freedom for so long that it’s too far away to back down. I’m slowing down and taking my time to evolve.

Aside

I have been skimming through this poem that I wrote three years ago. It’s been hidden since then that I thought it would turn out amazing or meaningful now. Back then, it felt like a masterpiece. But, after reading it today, it felt worthless, destitute; incomplete.

It’s funny. I was thirteen when I wrote that poem – almost out of my first year in high school. The Seniors then were so cool that the title alone bore such fecund distinction. From the outside looking in, I had at least hoped that our batch would turn out to be like them. I now feel years behind them; immature. I am full of bitterness, though I can never understand why.

I am almost seventeen now. My anger has consumed me, and thinking about it frustrates me all the more. I don’t like who I have become, but I’d like to shove my way to where I want to be.

On Monday, I’ll be reconciling with a lot of people because that’s how I roll. I need to get some things off my chest.

Poems are not like novels or legal opinions; they are more like blown leaves…. Poems have a way of getting lost under sofas – it is one of their charms, and one of the reasons why they endure.

Different Seasons: The Breathing Method by Stephen King p. 446

A beginning and an end
A full bag finds its place
Another has been left
Half-opened and untraced

Another has been reached for
Just to have and to hold
Another is being washed
Before it could get old

The things observed at hand
Used to be eras away
Now years have mounted up
Just counting on your stay

As real as it could get
Childhood swiftly flown
Visions of uncertainty
Vaguely outdoes what has grown

A toga lightly brushed
A cap proudly worn
An end to life’s stories
A promise she has sworn

Books soaked with hopes and regrets
En route to summer school
Not a fretting matter
The boy is but a fool

Reminiscence ascends
Atop the faded stoop
A spot where she sat on
When she had met her group

Hope fills the atmosphere
Next to that stapled joint
A spot he had stood on
When he had made his point

Bitterness and anger
Kills her sorry soul
Restrained from her merits
She cannot control

A casket says goodbyes
So innocent and young
A soul who left off plenty
Where new life had since sprung

A stage set for reckoning
The carpet paced and blue
Firmed desires and goals
Halfway coming true

When harmony settles
We see no disarray
But endings are expected
For life passes away

Fart Life

Sabi Nila

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This isn’t sour grapes. Cold, hard truths need to be said right now.

“I’ve grabbed so many of Vincent K. McMahon’s brass rings that it’s finally dawned on me that they’re just that, they’re completely imaginary. The only thing that’s real is me and the fact that day in and day out, for almost six years, I have proved to everybody in the world that I am the best on this microphone, in that ring, even in commentary! Nobody can touch me! And yet no matter how many times I prove it, I’m not on your lovely little collector cups. I’m not on the cover of the program. I’m barely promoted. I don’t get to be in movies. I’m certainly not on any crappy show on the USA Network. I’m not on the poster of WrestleMania. I’m not on the signature that’s produced at the start of the show. I’m not on Conan O’Brien. I’m not on Jimmy Fallon. But the fact of the matter is, I should be.”

– CM Punk (Monday Night RAW. 6/27/11)

I feel so fucking sentimental and I don’t know why, but it really keeps me down. Is it knowing that I can never reach my aspirations as easily as I had plotted out? I’ve always believed that there will always be a part of you that knows what will happen in your life. I don’t know if you feel the same, but I really think that there are signals in our existence that just about assume the factors that will lead us to our fate. I know I will never get shot. I know will never get kidnapped.

Hell, I know I will graduate without recognition, no matter how much crap I’ve brought to that school. Crap that seems honorable to them. No matter how much I had endured to get to where I am. How responsible I had been. How good. How very good. All those extracurricular, those class plannings, bulletin boards, reports that I worked hard on – and four years, four fucking years of taking charge of four different classes – they don’t matter! At the end of the day, I’m just another graduate without honors, or salutations. No fucking scholarship – far from what I had envisioned. And, I’m never going to my dream school, which had been too good to be true when I hallucinated. Visions – they cloud up stealthily. And if you’re not careful, if you forget to keep your eyes on the road or your feet planted firmly on the ground, those visions might just blow up in your face.

I know I will never win the previous writing prompt that I joined. I know I’m going to die someday. It hurts thinking about that last bit. Not moving. Not doing anything. Nothing. Last Wednesday, I had a conversation about this with Claudette, and what she told me was just the saddest thing. It makes me stone cold pensive now when I think about it, so I try not to. It’s just been so long since I popped the question about the inevitable to say what I fear, to know what I don’t know. It didn’t make me feel better.

Aftermath ng Prom Kagabi

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Oh sige na, ako na ang kinikilig! Grabe, ano ba ‘to, unlimited? Hindi ko maintindihan ‘tong nangyayari sa kasulok-sulukan ng budhi ko – parang ngayon ko lang ‘to naramdaman. Hanggang pagkagising ko eh nangingiti pa rin ako na parang ewan.

Ayun, okay naman. Nakakatawa. Maraming epal. Maraming epal na teachers. Sayang at di ko nakasayaw si Someone Like You. Pero ayos na rin ‘yun. Masaya naman ‘yung last dance pati na rin ‘yung aftermath.

Ang kyot niya kayaaa

Masaya pala maging high school ‘no? Masaya rin pala ‘pag may ganitong feeling. Sorry, wala kasi akong masabihan tungkol dito – hindi kasi talaga ako ganito; baka ma-weirdohan sila. Wala rin namang may paki. Anyway…

Gusto ko lang malaman niyo na may ayos talaga yung hair ko – nagulo lang – at na hindi talaga sa akin yung sash.

Hahahahahahaha. Bakit ganito?! Ano ba ‘to? Lakas ng tama nito, parang naka-drugsss

‘kay kakain pa ko ng ferrero

ang landi fumeferrero

WWFX in Manila

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I can’t believe that I missed one of these again. This is the third time that I did. The first time I got excited over a wrestling franchise coming here to the Philippines was six years ago: I was ten years old and was very much obsessed with the show. And since we were quite “well-off” during those days (my parents initially considered it, too!), I was also pretty darn sure that we would go.

But then, as the event drew near, a tragic stampede occurred at the ULTRA in Pasig City, wherein the shockingly popular suck-ass local gameshow, Wowowee, was celebrating its first anniversary. With less than 80 people killed and 400 impaled, any plans that involved going to hotels, theaters, coliseums, or anything that requires quarantine in populated areas were postponed. So, I ended up listening to depressing news as my favorite wrestlers dominated Araneta two weeks later. I, of course, still have a distinct and utter dislike for Willie Revillame and for those dumbasses who worked for him at that time. I believe that that was my first dream that someone else shattered.

Anyway, I was in Manila yesterday and I wish I had passed by Ayala because there was a meet-and-greet with the WWFX rosters. I don’t care if they’re not in the WWE anymore or if they’re not such big stars now. I just want to see wrestling live. By the way, I still have no idea what Colt Cabana was doing there.

Kat Can’t Fail

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I see it around me
I see it in everything
I could be so much more than this

– Jimmy Eat World (My Sundown)

Writing. Because I have no one to talk to. I tried. But I want to a have a good conversation with someone without getting barricaded or pushed away. Like, damn it, I want to talk to someone so bad. Just one sincere conversation that would inspire me, that even if I don’t get into a good university, everything will be completely okay. Hurtful but okay. Right now, it just doesn’t feel like that. Right now, it’s so much worse, much farther. And, I have no such control.

I didn’t look at this week’s results. But I have a feeling that I already know. I just want to listen to sad songs and watch sad movies and write a sad prose and read sad quotes. I am sad. I feel out of this world. Ten years ago, I wouldn’t have minded this; I would have believed that I’d turn out to be rather successful. It’s not like that anymore, and it scares me. Hell, I don’t even have a reason to tell you why I should pass. I just want to, deserving or not. And if I don’t, then life, dreams, perseverance, faith – especially faith – would not make any sense. They would be sad and meaningless. And I would remain angry and unkind and faithless and irrelevant to this world.

Now I really wish I could talk to someone. I don’t want to be alone. It matters to me. I want to matter. I want to be proud of myself for once. I want to know how it feels to win at life. I feel that I am close, close enough that I could taste it. But, there’s a part of me that feels left out. It tells me that I wouldn’t belong anywhere. And that part scares the shit out of me because I wouldn’t know where to go from here. It’s like that Killer song, “The sky is full of dreams, but you don’t know how to fly. I don’t have a simple answer, but I know that I could answer something better”. I feel so much pain because it’s too late for me now. And, I hate how I’m just going on and on about it here because I have no one to talk to, and because I don’t want to be alone.

Most people don’t know how much I’m hurting. They don’t know me – even those who I have been with since grade school. I have changed a lot. I think we all did. And while I have recognized what they now bring to the table, they refuse to see the changes in me. It sucks not having anyone to talk to. It’s sad that no one that I know right now will understand.

Hostile

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I was tired and confused, and at the end of my thinking, I hadn’t had anything but scratch sleep in weeks and couldn’t for the life of me see how I was going to go on.

Dolores Claiborne by Stephen King p. 140

I didn’t cry about it as I had figured I would. There I was, staring into the inevitable that was my life. And I couldn’t see it, couldn’t grasp the unseeable future. I didn’t stare long; a glimpse was enough for me to get the message, and every last bit reminds me of John Laurinaitis that, for a while, there was a sour taste in my mouth. I feel so confused, so angry, so damn stupid.

“Did not qualify.” It said. “We wish you luck in your endeavors.” That was my fallback. My setback. My back-up. My safety school.

Now what? What with my life. I did pray too, you know? I really did. Long, repetitious prayers. Every day, every night, every time I think about college, which is more than you can expect from a faith confused prick like me. It dawns the obvious question: is life a matter of intellect or luck? Or am I naturally stupid to not even pass a test that my older brother got frickin academic placement for?

It’s funny because just the other day, the school principal asked me if I had already gotten into a university. I told her that the results haven’t come in yet. And you know what she told me? She said, “I’m sure you’ll get in.” That stings. It really stings like hell… when you know that they’re expecting, when they’re cheering on you because they know you can do it. I honestly thought I could pull it off, but I don’t know where the hell that bravado went.

I don’t think anyone knows at this point just how I feel, looking back at that moment when she said those words, and knowing about this. Disappointment – boy, that really slaps you right in the kisser, doesn’t it?

I failed. I think it’s too early for me to understand this, too early at this time. I should have just waited. I should have just stalled. I should have let things take shape for themselves. I was too excited, and now it has backfired. Right now it’s just too bad.

Now playing: Boogie Woogie Downtown – The Bouncing Souls