To sum it up: I found precious things in the unlikeliest places.

Welcome Twenty Twelve. You’ll be my year.

They say there’s peace on the other side; that I’m missing out on cookies and rainbows. But I still choose this side. I choose pain and insanity.

This is still, and will always be worth fighting for. I am not escaping to dreamland to chase butterflies in ignorant bliss. I will let my battle scars tell the tale.

… there’s an old quiet place concealed from the bustle and mess of the world we’re used to. I like old houses because I long for that indoor silence; that kind of peace that could make you survive on gas lamps and flush-less toilets.

It’s a human disease – regression. Even those who do not dwell on the past still often go back to try and experience it, including all the painful crap that comes with the package. We like the pain and we brag about the tears. That’s how we know we’re strong enough to live at least a hundred more days.

It was one Sunday of nostalgia, conversation and bite-sized photography lessons. It would be a shame to miss something like this again, so this girl is definitely living for the next few hundred days.  I wanted to avoid being cryptic, but yes, this time I’ll learn how to play.

Photos: Rizal House in Calamba, Laguna, Philippines. 22 May 2011.

Due to my sudden career decisions, I have lost the time to travel despite almost booking flights to several places for the first half of this year. There may be no beaches or mountains or strange cities to look forward to anytime soon; rather, what’s left is a figurative destination. Someplace that only I can pinpoint in a life-map.

Coron, Palawan, Philippines. February 2010.

Today I opened this page with an intention to spill out the myriad of thoughts that have been haunting me since yesterday. So I find myself staring at this text box; the cursor taunting me to write something witty.  The little vertical line just blinked and I had nothing.

Then I see that other tab I had open in my browser – National Geographic’s Photography site. There are days that I lack words to let out whatever it is I need to. Gladly there are people who take awesome photos that can either make you feel good or speak your thoughts for you. Just look at this guy, who’s been worrying about life in the wild while screaming ‘cute’ all over its fur.

And this one too.

And like I said, sometimes pictures can tell the world what you feel way better than you actually saying it.

]]> http://esereth.wordpress.com/2011/04/22/out-of-words/feed/ 1 esereth Here's where I get my cute overload. Why ya lookin' at my branch?! All I wanted was to sit on that bench and talk. http://esereth.wordpress.com/2011/03/21/on-to-the-wide-open-sea/ http://esereth.wordpress.com/2011/03/21/on-to-the-wide-open-sea/#comments Mon, 21 Mar 2011 14:27:19 +0000 esereth http://esereth.wordpress.com/?p=212 ]]>

Whenever I get close to the ocean, I like spotting single boats afloat in the wide open sea. That is my metaphor for life: a lonely cruise into the vast unknown where you can find pleasant surprises, maybe a few short joint trips with some other boats you come across; but not without scary waves and deadly storms.

So what is out there? Yet again I paddle on, even without figuring out what is beyond the horizon. The recent downpour left my boat in very bad shape but it is afloat, my friends. I will let some faint tide of luck push me this time and wonder, where do I go next?

Taken while on a ferry en route to Camiguin island, Philippines. 02/25/2011

Seldom do I notice mundane moments such as this: my bedside lamp flickering a Morse code-like pattern asking for a bulb change. Besides, at roughly ten minutes before five in the morning, a vacant mind would notice the littlest things. The clock’s second hand pounded intimidatingly as opposed to its usual ticktock sound. Cricket calls owned the early morning silence. I had spent hours pouring over this book that now it seemed even my light source is giving up. I close the book with my forefinger still lodged in between the pages where I stopped. I stare at the ceiling and see my old friends. I made out several figures from the marks of my old ceiling over the years. There’s that rabbit I found when I was about 12 years old. Clouds along the sides that merged into the pink walls. There is a bearded man I liked to refer to as Santa, who was formed by the watermarks on wood that came from our once leaky roof. Suddenly the lamp dies out and my old friends disappear from sight. I know the sun is about to come up any time soon, but the world still seems dark. I am too worn out to use my daylight for reading but I can’t seem to let go of the book on my hand. The book I am reading is about love, loss, time, leaving and waiting. It’s been made into a Hollywood movie that was rather forgettable for my taste. The literary, however, does not disappoint me. For the past several hours I drowned myself into this gigantic metaphor of how it seems you’ve known someone your entire life, yet not actually knowing things about them.

Because that’s exactly how it felt. Yes.

As bittersweet memories replace my thoughts of the book, I see this huge dark thing loom over my bed. It looks much like Rowling’s dementors, or perhaps worse. It presses against me as if it plans to suffocate me to death. The memories go away as I concentrate on the weight knocking me out. I know what this is. This is the figurative demon I created to eat the unwanted feelings. The sun is about to rise so it’s about time this thing finally appeared. I let go of the distant memories and give in to the engulfing darkness.

Hours later I wake up with a pillow over my face and the book still in my hand. My forefinger still marks the page where I left off.

That emotion. Love. It’s not in the air. It’s just that cake shops make more heart-shaped pastries, the TV and silver screen show more romantic comedies and restaurants offer more couple promos. People are not more affectionate on Valentine’s. I think this is just a case of a centuries-old hype for the sake of love.

It comes as little surprise to my friends that I hate Valentine’s Day. I hate Christmas and even my own birthday, so there’s probably nothing more to like at this circumstantial holiday. To me, the Happy Valentine’s Day greeting sounds like nails scratching a chalkboard.

But in the spirit of giddy teenage couples and fluttering hearts, I will share three of my favorite movies which all happen to be love stories.

Love Actually (2003)

Richard Curtis of Four Weddings and A Funeral wrote lovely albeit confusing mini plots for this film: A lonely rockstar and his manager. A budding relationship bordered by language. A hesitant attraction between boss and employee. The infatuation of little people. A struggling marriage. Friends in search of exciting escapades. A triangle of affection between lover and family. Relationships out of circumstance. Secret feelings for a bestfriend’s bride.

Watching it is similar to walking into an ice cream shop – where there’s something for everyone. No matter how cynical you are, one of the characters will invite a tear or a chuckle out of you.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)

I think it takes a bit of pessimism to appreciate this Jim Carrey-Kate Winslet flick. Dark, twisted and tragic; it takes on the possible use of technology to erase memories about one’s unfavorable experiences of love. Some kind of Delete button for the pains from the love of your life, if I may say so. The disorienting flashbacks might exhaust your patience, but trust me that there’s a clear and simple resolution at the end of this movie. And I am not exaggerating when I say that it’s much like the light at the end of a dark tunnel. (Excuse the metaphors, I can’t help it. Haha.)

Little Manhattan (2005)

As young adults, we already know that first love doesn’t necessarily last forever. But seeing the pleasure and pain of first love in the eyes of a little man, is a figurative slap in the face.

“Love is an ugly, terrible business practiced by fools. It’ll trample your heart and leave you bleeding on the floor. And what does it really get you in the end? Nothing but a few incredible memories that you can’t ever shake.” – Gabe, Little Manhattan

The boy couldn’t have said it better.

For friends.

There are plenty of reasons why you should never wish to die.

1. You still have to see your enemies perish as you savor your sweet revenge. That bully in grade school you hated so much? He will get it someday, and you would love to see that happen.

2. Your mother. That hero of a woman had to push out an entire human being in one piece; while having to lie there in a very compromising position for all the doctors/nurses/midwives to see. The least we could do to make up for that effort is to keep breathing.

3. There’s always that one dessert that you HAVE to try at least once in your lifetime.

4. You might actually get married, or get a divorce. Whichever applies.

5. You don’t know if your friends can write nice eulogies for you. Personally, I’d like to make sure I hung around them long enough so they have no trouble writing a lot of good things in the long run.

6. The money, the things, the prestige you earned with hard work; no matter how little – it would be a shame not to enjoy them for as long as life permits you.

7. Even if you think you have the worst kind of life ever, there are at least two people who will cry on your wake.

8. For each day, you cannot help one little smile. No matter how trivial or fleeting, there’s always at least one each day. If you live a thousand more days, that’s a thousand more smiles. That doesn’t sound so bad.

9. Love and all the cheesy things that come with it.

10. There are about 6 billion other people wanting world domination. Why make it easier for the rest of them?