Grief

Grief is the world's greatest killjoy. It does not allow you to enjoy the day's little accomplishments in as much as you should be celebrating about them. While it gets you into drowning in barrels of beer, you still end up crying and deeply hurting.

Grief is the world's most inconsiderate creditor. If you delay in entertaining it and allowing it to sink in, you will have to pay a price so big that you could not afford. Its interest grows by the second and accumulates everyday. The next thing you know, its already right at your doorstep with an army of sheriffs, ready to take everything that is in you - heart and flesh included.

Grief is the world's most dangerous tag team. It makes you also hate those hated by the subject of your grief. It makes you want to wrestle and have them thrown into Mars, where they should belong.

Beat this

Get a small table and a board. Make a signage . Find a nice space in the corner of a busy street. Then voila, sell notarial services like candies. And by the way, you can sell cigarettes, candies, balut, and e-load on the side. How's that for a living?

Only in the Philippines.

Superman no more

I'm not ready to make nice. I'm not ready to back down. And I don't have time to go round and round. (Dixie Chicks, 2006)

Yeah, I'm still bitter and hurt. And I don't plan to play Superman or Miss Universe - suppress what I feel and hope for world peace. I kept on doing this before, you all know that, and it didn't just work. You even wronged me for being a vanguard for peace and blah-blah. You forgot the pact of blood that the heavens did for us.

I don't want this. No one does. But your foolishness is just too loud that I could hear it beneath my pillow at night. So I am left with no other option but to deal with you and the things that you do, head-on.

But worry not. This isn't revenge. My father did not like any versions of it (revenge); although to you, he used to appear like otherwise. You know me. I can do way better than taking things to the streets.  Let's just say, something just has to stop and someone just has to do it. And let's not do it overnight. There's a process for this, some matrix that the heavens allow.

So there. I'm still bitter. My brother, too. And for now, that's all I/we know.

By the way, I miss my father. Very much.

Wet

Its raining cats and dogs. The traffic is jam-packed. The road gladdens the obsessed ghost.

(Not) Studying

Review notes, coffee, and a view of people shopping. Focus, where art thou?

Miton and Lionel Richie

Back in my teens, I used to wake up every morning with the music of Lionel Richie, Kenny Rogers, Stevie Wonders, England Dan and their contemporaries. Even now, I still get to memorize the lyrics of their songs. Thanks to my father.

This one, in particular. I keep playing this while driving to office everyday. I could hear my father singing with Lionel Richie. Oh, that voice.

The February Moon

After calling it a day, you suddenly feel messed up and disrupted. Your mind is almost restless; your thoughts are in disarray. You want to shout things out and throw off everything into the air. Driving around just doesn't help in cooling you down.

What's happening with the world, Momma? Bad day at school? Cruel exam? No substantial accomplishment for today at work? Road snafus? Annoying people? Blah blah? Who knows. Everything just doesn't feel right and you don't know why.

Not everyone gets this. Only those born in February do. Oh well.

So, you're going to drown yourself with Snow Patrol and sleep tonight with a heavy heart and yeah, anxious mind. But you're still hoping that tomorrow will be a better day.