Paminsan may mga gabi kung saan damang-dama mo ang mga Tanong
na umaaligid sa iyong likuran, animo'y mga mandarambong na handang hablutin at nakawin ang iyong mga mahahalagang dalahin.
Marahas nilang hihigitin ang iyong pitaka, at mabilis na tatakbo papalayo; hindi ka man lamang makasisigaw o makahihingi ng tulong.
(Kunsabagay, walang saysay ang manaklolo).
Maninigas ka sa iyong kinatatayuan, at lilipas ang ilang minuto; kapag nahimasmasan, iyong mapagtatanto na dala nila ang lahat ng iyong kailangan upang makauwi sa iyong
tahanan,
kaya't sisimulan mo na lamang maglakad, mamadaliin ang mga hakbang upang hindi na muling maabutan ng panibagong mga Tanong
na may dalang mga patalim, at sadyang walang awa.
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Minsan may mga gabi na hindi ka makatulog o makahiga ng tahimik dahil napakaingay sa loob ng iyong utak. Pilit mong kakalimutan ang iyong mga iniisip, ngunit habang pinipilit mong limutin ang mga iyon -- sa pamamagitan ng pagbabasa ng libro, pakikinig sa musika, pagsusulat, pagguguhit, pakikipagusap sa ibang tao -- talagang mananaog pa rin ang mga tanong na hindi mo naman nais tanungin. Mga kaisipang hindi mo naman nais isipin.
You have to be beautiful to create something beautiful.
The one thing you can't teach is beauty. Some people are not born with high-end After Effect skills, but beauty's right there. It's genetic. Hotness is always the tiebreaker.
Sometimes I wonder, "is my work beautiful because I'm beautiful, or am I beautiful because my work is beautiful?" It's probably a little bit of both.
Perfect people create the perfect design.
As a beautiful person, I pretty much live a consequence-free life. I believe that's why I'm such a fearless designer: i can create disturbing, controversial imagery and in the end, people just say "wow, she's hot."
The fact is, regular people will do anything for beautiful people.
and then realizing later on that you have to untie them again.
Spontaneous self-portrait, while waiting for friends in the designlab.Oooh, cryptic. No special meanings here - just random thoughts haha. And I happen to find lace lying around the office so might as well play with it!
Plus Alanis' new album Flavors of Entanglement is really nice. I love the title.
Because I got bored today, I decided to head on to wikipedia (which is the most reliable source evarrr, yeah right) and read up on Psych disorders again just for kicks. I browsed through the different clusters and reacquainted myself with the well-known mood and anxiety disorders, and remembered the somewhat obscure ones (frotteurism, anyone?).
Towards the end of the wikipedia page I was browsing, I saw a link that begged me to click it -- relational disorders. The description of this new cluster really got my attention:
According to Michael First M.D. of the DSM-V working committee the locus of a relational disorder, in contrast to other DSM-IV disorders, "is on the relationship rather than on any one individual in the relationship." Relational disorders involve 2 or more individuals and a disordered "juncture," whereas typical Axis I psychopathology describes a disorder at the individual level. An additional criterion for a relational disorder is that the disorder cannot be due solely to a problem in one member of the relationship, but requires pathological interaction from each of the individuals involved in the relationship.
So there. Relationships can be disordered, and the upcoming new edition of the DSM might have this already. There are two types -- Marital Relational Disorder and Parent-Child Abuse Disorder. I wonder if there are any disorders other than these two that involve formal junctures?
Geekness at its finest. If ever, this new cluster would explain a lot of broken families, and hopefully uncover their etiologies and thus more effective therapy.
On other geek news, Jake lent me Friedrich Nietzsche's Twilight of the Idols and The Anti-Christ and Camera Lucida by Roland Barthes. I've always wanted to read Nietzsche's works (Thus Spake Zarathustra is a very attractive title and had wanted to read that first, hahaha) so I'm pretty excited. It's been a year since I last read anything Philo. The Roland Barthes book is supposedly a photographer's bible; it's a collection of reflections on photography.
I just might be a hermit in the next few days. Sometimes I feel my brain is decaying so I'm putting in extra effort to reclaim my zapped brain cells, but then neurons can't regenerate so I'll just have to try and make more connections. *____*
Oh and I want to shoot this week. Will be brainstorming on that too!
I was walking my regular way home today, my ears filled with random songs from my player, when I suddenly remembered Haikus. 5-7-5; short verses that try to say a lot in its smallness. Their images are usually of nature, and are usually about love. While walking, I tried to come up with some verses, my fingers flicking for each syllable that I mouth in silence.
I began thinking of haikus about missing someone; as my trusty pod began playing Susie Suh's Won't You Come Again, where she sings Oh I'm missing you -- or maybe I'm just missing how I felt when I was with you; her thick, smoky voice like the sound of desire inside my head.
Missing you. It's an enormous conundrum for me. Don't you ever wonder why missing someone comes in different modes? There are those moments when you miss someone and it makes you feel all warm and soft inside; their absence a remembrance of how strongly you feel for them. Other times, missing someone is unbearable -- it is cold and unforgiving, their absence a grim threat of falling out. It makes me wonder if missing someone is a sure-fire confirmation that you have feelings for that person, or just a glaring distortion of a rhythm of life you have grown accustomed to.
Whatever the case may be, like what my friend wrote on his journal, I miss you (in its sincerest, and not in the euphimism of I miss you--plural) is an entirely more powerful word than any other term of endearment.
It's like a validation of the fact that you value someone's presence in your life. That you are happy when they are near you -- not that they make you complete (good god, hell no!), but that you make life a little bit sweeter, a little less ordinary. I dunno. I'm rambling.
Ugh. Sometimes reading mushy pieces from other people just carve their way into you!
I was looking at my multiply's inbox, mindlessly scrolling down from update to update when I chanced upon one of my friends' posts, with the the words "love of my life" in the subject. I read it over and over again and chewed on it. What does it mean when someone declares someone else the love of their life? How much more powerful is it compared to being called someone's beloved? Someone's love? It's probably interchangeable, but since I'm bored and tend to always think too much, I bothered to figure out its nuances. After all, it feels all grand when someone says the love of my life.
*Thinks*
Maybe when someone says that a person is the love of their life -- and that is, if they really mean it -- it seems that the love goes beyond the person. It escapes the one saying it, and transcends to his entire life: my entire life loves you, every aspect of my life loves you. You are the love of my life.
It sort of seems obsessive when taken in another way; it's bordering on making everything revolve around the love of one's life. Still, I think it's beautiful when taken carefully. You are the love of my life; my life loves you -- it's like saying I love you a million times over; it's like I love you coupled with my parents, my family, my cat loves you and my dreams love you, my job loves you and the nasty, embarrassing aspects of my person loves you.
When someone is declared to be the love of their life, it's like saying my past loves you, my present loves you, and my future loves you.
I'm probably blowing things over. It's one line with four words. Then again, that's probably it -- I always say "I love you" is such a heavy, meaningful three-word-combo that should only be used sparingly. Three words that should mean a lot and not just thrown around everytime your heart suddenly skips a beat.
With that, though, I guess it's only logical that the four words of love of my life is greater in value.
So how do you know if someone is the Love of your Life?
I was feeling very nostalgic when I woke up today, so I rummaged through some old files and found my old LJ archive.
The first entry I ever wrote was almost exactly 5 years ago. I was 17, and was on my 2nd week of college. It was all a confusing time, and this entry, as I read it, made me laugh really hard. Good God, talk about EMO!
It's funny how things play out. Around the time I wrote this, I was so scared of losing my friends, that I actually thought I was changing friends. In time, though, I realized that you never really lose friends, unless you want to lose them; and if you're really friends with someone, the time you fail to spend with them becomes immaterial when you meet again. All those missed moments become a way for you to gather more stories to share with them.
So because I'm nostalgic today, here are a bunch of photos. Friendses! Beware. We looked so different. Haha!
I miss my "mohawk" hahaha
OMG college wetness. I seriously miss being a TNT.
Congrats to this year's TNTs and ORSEM folk!
I miss Philo classes T__T Sir Jope!
This was one of our most memorable projects ever.
Thesismates! PaolaaaaaCarmiiiii. When are we going outttt?
Everyone's gonna kill me for posting this photo. WTF were we thinking?
It's cliche, but sometimes God seems distant. He seems so unreachable to me sometimes, like he's completely turned his back on me. I can't expect myself to understand why I feel this way, but I'd like to think that in these moments that I feel he is just way too far beyond my reach, he's really just taking a step back to look at the entirety of his creation and whispering to himself, it's beautiful, like he did the first seven days.
will never fully be conquered; their winding roads
and lamp posts will never stay the same
save for the way the sun paints
its dirtroads and rooftops.
They will be as sweet and warm as the time you first saw them.
You open the windows every morning
and breathe in the smoke from the city's many kitchens
and let in the sound of his children playing
on the sidewalks.
They will be as sweet and warm as the time you first met them.
Then you will feel your feet move across the hardwood floors
out the door and into the streets. You wonder
when the baby around the corner learned how to light a cigarette,
or how the old fishmarket vendor got on his wheelchair.
Still you smile at them, like you've known them through and through,
as if they were as sweet and warm as the first time you talked to them,
and trace the graffiti on the walls of your house
like they were masterpieces
on the ceilings of Cathedrals you never dreamed to touch.
This is how you fall, a boy would say:
The city you choose to live in
is the city you choose to love,
and the city that you love,
is the city that you live in.
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The past few weeks have been so busy. It's funny, though, in the thick of things, when the world seems to turn around in circles outside of its orbit, you hold on to things that you know you should hold on to.
It was raining real hard last night. My internet got funky :( --- If you're wondering why I'm very random, I think my room is to blame. When people ask me what the color of my room is, it always poses a problem, and they always look odd when I reply "um, well one wall is yellow, one is orange, one is purple, and the ceiling is mint green" It's an interior designer's nightmare, it's just a hodgepodge of random trinkets and mess. I like it very much.
When I was young, I used to wish that my drawings would come to life and be my best friend. I used to write down their complete profiles beside each character, like rare trading cards that only I had.
It's been a while since I drew anything seriously -- much more a decent human being. Ever since I grew up, my drawings have become nothing but random lines and figures on pieces of notepad, receipts and paper napkins.
Sappy, but I guess it's much like finding love. You begin with drawing your ideal, wishing they'd come true and never leave you. But then you grow up, and realize that it won't ever happen. Your perfect character will forever be a drawing, so you begin to let go -- you spend less time on your desk and more time on more practical things.
But then little pockets of moments creep back, and you find yourself doodling what seem like random things on unimportant canvases. I don't know, maybe the random doodles are really just fragments of your ideal coming back, trying to remind you that maybe, just maybe, they will still come to life.
It seemed like the day was gonna be ravaged by another storm, but the weatherman was kind today. There was no tempest in the city; instead, the breeze was cool, and the daylight softened by the thick gray clouds. The rain was mellow and quiet.
Hope.
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Hey we shall overcome, we shall overcome Well we'll walk hand in hand, we'll walk hand in hand Well we shall live in peace, we shall live in peace Well we are not afraid, we are not afraid
Hey we shall overcome, we shall overcome We shall overcome someday Darlin' here in my heart, I do believe We shall overcome someday
Adia, I do believe I failed you. I know I let you down. Don't you know I tried so hard to love you in my way? It's easy; let it go.
Adia, I thought that we could make it. Well, I know I can't change the way you feel. I'll leave you with your misery, a friend who won't betray. I'll pull you from your tower and take away your pain. I'll show you all the beauty you possess if you'd only let yourself believe.
We are born innocent, believe me, Adia. We're still innocent. It's easy -- we all falter. But does it matter?
Words by Sarah Mclachlan, because my words have surrendered.
This is really cheating. I took this photo a couple of days ago, but then my camera's still with my brother and I don't want to upload cellphone photos anymore. haha. (refer to day before this). I had wanted to upload it for Day 3, actually, but thought I'd just keep it handy. And here it is now. Well I edited it today, so that sort of makes it valid (but then it was very minimal photoshopping, just a few ups in sharpness and contrast, and then cropping.)
Yesterday, while on the road, I was continuously falling in and out of sleep. Jay kept joking that I was doing what I do best - "photographing with my mind."
It was funny, but I realized I really do that. I tend to stare. I let my gaze linger at the features, taking in the smallest details of people and places I like so that I can remember them. I particularly have a penchant for hands, and all the lines it has; and the eyes, and its color, and the maps that form in its sinews.
It makes me believe that they will be with me forever, even if it's just in my mind.
But I'm still here.
