Dear Sunny Sunday

The stillness was disrupted by the crunching of the dried mango leaves. I intentionally squished them. I also stepped on a lonely branch because it was on my way. I can hear the local jeeps' engines. I can sometimes inhale their exhausts. I hear my own deep breathing, in and out. My copper mahogany brown hair was damp either from my early bath or perspiration. My legs are wailing, I could hear my heart drumming with my lungs all geared up. And I am 100% sure,my butt was on fire.

This was jogging at 06:00 am,with Bahbah.

I tied my hair before the last but almost eternal stride. I was listening to the systematic breathing of the other joggers,but when we turn right, it was like a vacuum. A warped zone where either you get lost or enchanted.

I have always known the benefits of running. I know that it fuels your body- mentally and physically. As I strive for getting my heart pumping blood and releasing the freons I inhaled 9x5 every night, I started to feel the happy cells dancing.

I never knew it would relieve me from stress. I've been feeling a bit of edgy and pressured this past few weeks, one, because I've been in my new post for three months already. You try to recall-- what have I done? Was I able to develop someone?Or something? I wasn't an eager beaver. But I am not lazy.

Long lines of perspiration were trickling from my nape downwards. My lungs were huffing because I was such a weakling. At last, my coffee-colored contacts can vividly see the bend...this is our 'almost-finish line' and Bahbah handed me his car keys. Being the slowpoke, I only get to do two rounds, he aims for three. He needs to lose five pounds, I have to gain more than that. We both do this for cardio.

My favorite part of jogging is so unlike with movies. I like the middle and ending, because I could feel my skin letting out all the bad juices while my muscles were being teared for a good cause.

You would always spot me,right after my 'finish line' with a Venti Taho at hand. I had it standing up or seated on the steps or cemented benches.

There was an awkward stillness around me while I finish my sweetened soy bean curd. The morning breeze had made the perspiration evaporate. There were fewer leaves to squish from where I was seated, the joggers may have swept them away. I peeked underneath my flats and saw fresh buds-all flattened by my heavy feet.

I peeled my stoked rear from the steps and walked. I would've strutted, but my sweats wouldn't give it justice.

We always end our jogging session with fishballs or siomai or tuknene (quail eggs in an orange breading). I forgot what I was so stressful about. The clenched fists and the knotted feeling were all gone, it was like sunshine....

...brighter than sunshine..

Dear Vodka Ice

I just had two,
(snickers) And I started walking phonetics,
And there was a sun setting,
The breeze bit into my skin.

I quietly stuck my hands inside my sweater,
(shivers) Slowly,I can see some branches, reaching the hills,
The sun bids goodnight,
And the moon, softly, was cradled by the branches.

I lit up my cigarette,
(laughter) I don't even know how to smoke,
And here I am,
Starting a fire.

It made me wonder,
(sigh) How the trunk's branches,
Made something silky,
And ignites a flame.

I have never gone near,
(eyes shut) Before to light up a fire,
Because I was afraid,
I'd destroy everything.

I have to let go, but hold on a few,
(laughs shortly) Because the branches reach out,further,
Digging deeper into the fine soil,
And it made silk,silkier than ever.

It seems that the night heard different cries of sound,
(sighing deeply) With eyes closed, the mind draws the circles,
Going round, sometimes,to the north and,
All the way to the south.

I have to say,
(sleepily) I don't need to smoke,
To warm my lips, my face and myself,
I just almost drown my thoughts...

And the waves, almost made me forget my name.

Why I Like Comic Strips

I love reading comic strips..that often I would really saved up for the collection. They’re not that expensive yet they’re also not cheap. I used to read and reread Pugadbaboy (PB). Local political yakitiyaks and everyday going ons. I like Brosia, one of the most popular characters of PB. Ambrosia Tangara, the housemaid of the Sungcal family reminds me of our "ex-housemaid" Louella. She looks exactly like her except for her droopy eyes. She thinks like her often as well, no joke. But no worries, she wasn’t physically, mentally, spiritually and emotionally abused during her stay here. In fact, my brother loves her so much he even coined a nickname for her, "Wela Admundala" (Her original pet name plus Queen Amidala).

I also enjoyed the collection Baby Blues, although I never had a kid, I could relate to the characters as well. Probably, it’s one of the few reasons why I hate the rowdy bunch. I could just picture Hammie eating grass when he was a toddler and Zoe playing with mud. Add Wren climbing the freezer during her younger years. Baby Blues maybe the reason why I get so irritated with sticky things as well….like I’m gonna be so exhausted when I can’t remove the mozzarella cheese between my teeth yesterday. They have lots of inspiring quotes as well….like, "Denial comes first then Apology." I love that line so much, I think I’m gonna marry it.

Lately, I started reliving Calvin and Hobbes. Hwooow! Imagination is liberty. As a kid, I imagined myself as a "model", "teacher", "biker" and "spiderwoman" the latter as being the weirdest of the bunch. But never a dinosaur or a spaceman superhero. Climbing the roof of our house never made me want to jump…but I really wanna feel the air like going through my face….And like Baby Blues, they do have funny and candid quotes, too. "Childhood is Short, Maturity is Forever," I wished I’ve thought of that twenty years ago….I was so obsessed of maturity. Of growing up…and now I am trying to feed myself with Calvin’s wild imagination and happy childhood. Well, the cliché says…."There’s always a kid in every one of us" or whatever….And added factor, Calvin and Hobbess’s facial expressions…I salute the artist.

I like it when Calvin gave Hobbes his "Christmas gift", saying, "Hope this fits", the gift was a HUG. And yes, I was touched. But that doesn’t make me change my mind about the rowdy rug rats!

Before, I used to stay at the fiction and literature section of the bookstore…now, probably, trying to amuse myself, I would sprint to the Entertainment/Comics area…wherein I brushed off silly looks from teenagers who are privately reading a collection of "text messages and jokes" or "Horror Stories and Etc." hair flip and smirk, the hell I care. It’s time to feed my kid in me.

Are you his/her summer girl/guy?

Summer!!!!(???)

When you say summer, you think of sand, sun and waves…the blue skies, the shells and the kebabs..When I add, the word, girl…you’d think of skimpy bikini-clad girls strolling along the beach or frying themselves on the sand.

If I say, I don’t want to be a summer girl, you’d probably have a question-marked face if you’re kinda slow…and if you’re not, you’d understand what I just said.

Well, it wouldn’t be just girls, it can be guys…and it wouldn’t always be summer. But since summer pass by so quickly, therefore the term, summer girl/guy. Yeah, you can call it, fling…for some.

I would always say, "I think you are going to be his/her summer girl/guy," What are the signs that someone is treating you as a their summer girl/guy?

a. right timing - he/she is always there when you need someone. always has a drink to start up a conversation. always there after you had a fight. always there when you need to feel wanted. always there to say you're cute,pretty and smart....but, sometimes, s/he can’t make you feel complete or loved.

b. complicated status - s/he may or may not have anyone right now. says things are getting complicated….that s/he needs space and time that s/he wants a moment for her/himself. all s/he wanna do is have fun. says, s/he enjoys your company, but often doesn’t pursue to get to know you/. if s/he does, it would always be the "good side" and the "lonely side"

c. you know you are not that special to him/her. s/he may make you feel like a side dish….but, the lonely you, don’t care at all. it doesn’t matter if you hear that s/he has this girl/guy with at the coffee shop.

d. calls, messages but no commitments. s/he doesn’t give you exact time. the five minutes, would be five minutes, you waiting at the lobby for him/her. and apologies? are but extinction to him/her. smile and stride, that’s your cue.

e. perfect company. good conversation and laughs. you talk as if you're the perfect soul mates. but you know after that, s/he could have another good laugh and chat with someone else.

If you’re someone who’s just testing the waters, being a summer girl/guy is good thing. If you’re healing a wound, try not to take the summer girl/guy thing seriously, it would really break you. And if you suddenly realize that you had some summer girls/guys, don’t be too ashamed, everyone has their own girl and guy….but don’t be too proud either. There are lots of people I know who got lifetime scars from having too many summer girls/guys….

For, some summer girls/guys, are the ones that may have gotten away...

_______________

Have I met a summer guy?

Guilty. But I will always go home with the man I love....

Over Under

Let me tell you how I got over it...

But first, you have to know why I decided to. One good and sensible reason is, I have to. I could either hold on and wait as if he'll turn around and say,"Hey, I'm back," or I could just nurture pain into a life lesson and move on.

I chose the latter. But it wasn't that easy.

I decided to try and get on with my life, because I don't see him as someone I'll be with for long,much as he does too, probably. Change is anything but it's own meaning.

I went thru several phases of cliche just for me to get over it.I cried, had my hair done and got wasted.And as soon as I am under the mercy of the spirits,I said his name. Emo-shit. Yet, I did not regret doing all of these "been there, done that" escapades. This is why I realized, he did me a favor.

I wasn't growing but he wanted to. It's one of the inevitable, even the falling out.

I met some interesting and mentally-challenged people, and I could say, I was really Bitter-rella and Bitche-rella at the time I met them. It felt like a ray of light behind the gray clouds when I danced with one hand waving free. Was I?

I lost myself into five years of oblivion.I cannot think of the good stuff, some smart ass might claim I am not over it, but I don't care. It's funny, because some smart ass understands what I'm feeling.

So one day, I let him hold hand. That was the turning point...

I was over it, entirely.

Brew Me

Bitter, black and hot,
Served to me that way,
Serves me right for being not,
Then I headed towards a wooden bay...

and I changed it, almost
like when those,
little pebbles become sand,
like when she gives out her hand...

All but that was in a dream,
Because it had to be,
Taken softly,slowly as rises its steam,
Into the chilly air, without me.

I have known,
...why, I have to take in small sips, all
--on guard,
lips are easily burned,
And to heal is quite hard.

Parched lips, where it used to be supple,
Because I cannot be virtuous
....much
The beans had endured them a couple
--of heat for the aroma to come,
As such,

is its fate.

Thus, as the steam envelopes my eyes,
Jolting, and loses the lethargy,
Creamy, bitter-sweet and warm in my hands,
You're all mine, my freshly...
...brewed coffee.

Dear my station

Location is the key...or the culprit,if I may add.

I was located vertically towards the entrance,thus, I felt like the hidden camera. Capturing all who goes in, seeing the back of their necks when they go out. It didn't bother me at all. Because, the only faces I see are sleepy, lazy, bored, anxious and wasted...sometimes, pasty smiled people. Yes,I forgot the eager beavers. At the end of the week,turns into tired slots.

One time, I looked up and he looked down. Nothing unusual people, basic human nature. Besides, it's rude to stare and gawk. Next interval, day and weeks, usual routine. I looked up,from my erlangs and sheet, and he looks down, tripping almost, on some dude's dirty chucks. It always happens, even if it was another person, I had to look up for some reason, maybe it's my 30 second-attention span running low...or it was just a reflex.

Anyway, instances wherein I accidentally look up and he doesn't look down that much anymore, started to build up. I may be branded as a very assuming and arrogant person,so I decided to follow Mariah Carey's advice, "Shake it off," and that worked. Bandaid resolution,if I may say so.

Because something became a habit. And that is the location's fault.

I began waiting. He started swerving faster than the usual. It was a very harmless waiting game. Until one night (because we are nocturnal employees!), I had to talk to him, purely business.

And everything was executed,in a purely business way, no smiles, no eye contact no butterflies..

That's when I thought,mind will always be over matter. So right now, that's what I am doing.

Retrospect...he began looking at me longer than the usual now. Maybe I have a booger or something...that's a valid reason.

Let's not try blaming the location.