Ano ba ang proseso nung application na sinasabi ng Engkantadia? mejo nahihiwagaan (LOL) ako sa grupo nyo kung ano ba talaga yan kaya hindi pa ako makapagdesisyon. (pero di naman siguro ako kawalan kung mag-apply man ako or hindi hahaha!)
Boss Master Tsip, August 6, 2010
I will cherish everything that we've shared and remember all our memories. You will always be special to me no matter what.
Unreplied Letter, September 22, 2012
Looking back, I cannot remember having said something to put him in a bad light or discredit his character. There were truths to be told, yes, but history - from my perspective - has always been kind to him.
Hilom, July 31, 2013
The Pillow Talks
Daybreak is fast approaching. The drinking binge with friends is about to wrap up. But instead of staying for a post-alcohol snack, I hail the first cab I could find on the street. I need to get home not to nurse a hang-over, but to make a phone call to someone who is still awake, and perhaps waiting, for me to say "I'm in bed. Tulog na tayo."
Every night, JC and I talked before bedtime. It was a habit I grew accustomed to that at times he forgot to make a call, I was the one to speed dial his number.
Just to hear him whimper and for me to say "sweetdreams."
You may find the arrangement rather odd, but given my nocturnal body clock, I prefer we go to sleep together at the time most convenient to him.
Before the Third came into my life, the nightly rituals with the previous exes were often limited to a few text messages to report that we were already home. The SMS read, "Gudnyt, Luv u." and that's all there was to say. Looking back, it was merely a ceremonial duty to make sure we didn't sleep at someone's place. The bonds we built lay on shallow ground, and for this reason, I have few memories of them.
But with JC, the "reporting" was a prelude to the pillow talks that would last for hours. Even when I was on night shift in the office, I would take breaks just to talk to my partner. His voice always made me feel at ease. And given his sunshiny personality, he had mastered the technique on how to crack and make me "talk."
For seldom would I speak my thoughts - even to a boyfriend.
JC let me into his world that I never got to see. He had weaved a tapestry of stories about his girl friends and college buddies, turning them into interesting characters that I was able to relate - and these are people I haven't met. There were nights he would share his dreams and frustrations. Aspirations like working in the Big Apple, returning to Europe for a grand vacation, or how he would have wanted to shift in a career, which he now belongs.
When we ran out of topics, he would ask me to listen and make a comment on his latest work - the covers he used to upload on his Soundcloud account. Sure there were times he would get miffed when all I did was to praise his performance. Seldom would I tell that he needed improvement because I really wanted him to sing
- and because I cannot distinguish a musical note from another.
I never knew how he was as a singer before we met. Speculation is no longer of the essence for he had come a long way. What I hope is that in the time we were together - during the nights I pushed him to cover new songs - gave him the courage to perform with pride, now that he goes to KTV events I only get to know from common friends.
True to his legacy, there remains no denial of association: that the songs he used to sing still leaves me staring into blank spaces, or humming the lyrics in my head when I chance to hear them on the radio. So strong is the power of music, of how it conjures voices and scenes that a date once told me his favorite song and asked me to listen. Instead, I returned the earphones upon getting struck by the familiar tune. I didn't tell the reason for not playing the music from start to finish.
Only after giving him a pained smile did he figure the answer.
Because of the nightly pillow talks, I began paying more attention to heartfelt conversations with souls I truly connect with. The bedside communion has also spared me from the messy random hook-ups I did at some point in my life. I maybe beset with troubles caused by premature attachments from time to time, but the peace afforded to me by JC and our union endures, a year after we walked our separate ways.
Rumination affords a ponderer to look back on the good days, and see with clarity, how the past shapes the present.
But looking at JC from across the table - on the night a year after our separation, I cannot help but lament how we turned out to be: distant, awkward, and with a hint of coldness; like we never had a history to speak. I know it is my own doing. The overwhelming pride, and refusal to admit my fault; and my penchant for pad-locking my doors on the past. But maybe, because there are really no words to say. No memories to bring back and cherish because these are bound to remain buried - when it gets replaced by new experiences shared with my Fourth - and his Second. And secretly, as I drink my watered-down beer at the casa, it makes me weep knowing the fleetingness of our existence:
That we have been reduced to mere acquaintances.
And should he gets to read these entries one day, when it is his time to remember what we were. May he find comfort that beyond the growing wordlessness, there remains a part of him that will always belong to me. He will always have a special place, fit for someone who took risks to take a journey with me and paint a story.
So for the last time, let me cherish the littlest gestures that made Baabaa special. May this parting gift serves as a remembrance; that his legacies will live on - even when we find ourselves in the arms of another deserving of our love.
- The way he tells you to trim your nose hair and take a bath before going to bed.
- The Independent Film festivals he asked me to attend with him.
- Beyonce, Ed Sheeran and Kyla.
- The word "Akap," which I have not said to anyone until now.
- The manner how we always end our phone calls with "1... 2... 3... Mwah, mwah, mwah."