Crossing Streets and Records on Repeat

We move like seconds, minutes and hours of a watch. Slow, tick-tock and a right or left (from wherever standpoint you're looking at) turn until we reach that 60 minute mark, then a new hour begins.

Today a close friend has finally made a choice to move forward, I am proud of her. It takes more courage to move forward than to remain rooted to the ground. It made me think of all the times I've said I have moved forward but in reality I was stuck.

That long call, from months back was my 60 minutes to a new hour moment. It was the most painful thing to do. To finally let yourself go and allow yourself to accept that it is gone and I can never go back.

I felt like a record on an old turntable, it finally stopped repeating itself. The turntable finally grew weary and tired. Sick of the same line playing over and over like a nagging mother telling you to stop whatever it is that you were doing.

We all grow tired of standing still and seeing the same old streets and cars pass us by. We always have options, you could turn left to the next corner or just cross the street.

At one point, I thought turning left was part of moving on. However I kept coming back to where I started. After that night, I've decided to cross the street.

To my dear friend who will cross the street, it may be crowded, cars may pass by like a bullet train but all I can say is... it's better than letting the world pass you by.

Abrupt Utterings (06.09.11)

Every time I get-up, go to the girlies room and look at myself at the mirror my hair ends up like Hermione Granger. And I’m not talking about Hermione - Emma Watson, I’m referring to Hermione from the book.

Saw that trailer of Breaking Dawn, why did I even bother?! Seriously.

I keep missing my responsibilities, it has come to a point that I AM annoyed at myself.

Scored Mary Oliver’s Red Bird for 75 pesos, STEAL!

I feel sad that I’m paying my taxes this payday, government screw you! How could you take my taxes and keep them all to yourself? Ahh the never ending political turmoil! Seize to exist pretty please.

Colored my hair Strawberry Blonde, and believe me it doesn’t even resemble anything remotely close to the photo of that curly girl from the box. What did I expect? I’ve been doing this for years and it still surprises me. Talk about bimbo, technically now I am a Blonde Bimbo. =)

Postcard to Alice #60911

It rained yesterday, I found myself sleeping on the bus once again. The cold empty seat beside me felt like a comforting yet confined space of security.

The fogged windows made the sky and that fraction of time more theatrical.

That bus ride alone, was beautiful.

Postcard to Alice #60811

They keep growing up, I can’t stop them from growing and soon exploring this world. It’s so hard I might not be able to let them go.

Postcard to Alice #60711-2

I should draw, even if I have no talent. Even if my hands has nothing but dreams and make believes. I have to try drawing and creating lines and circles all over again. I have to try to love my crayolas, chalks and neon markers once more.

I need a dose of my gold and silver gel pens.

Postcard to Alice #60711

There’s something about photos, those photos I keep taking. It’s really just nothing, I feel like every time I click away and fall in love with a moment I’m filling in the gap. This unexplainable gap in me. My photos are simply like that, fillers for a gap lived life.

Postcard to Alice #60611

I remembered drawing when I was a child. I saw this beautiful drawing kit in a bookstore and I remembered all the lines I traced and all the colors that went along with all my drawings.

Then it got me wondering, what is it that I wanted to do in this life? At that very moment I wanted to grab a pencil and just draw on anything my eyes saw. I keep forgetting things like that. I keep forgetting to imagine anything.

I should remember.

Postcard to Alice #60511

I have forgotten to feel something for you as I was browsing through old pictures in my blog. It felt like looking through one of those vintage photos that were black and white. I felt so distant like I was looking at two strangers. Photos of strangers I barely knew.

We are now foreigners, living in different countries far far away.

I guess this is how it is, the wind blows people to different places.

I’m mapping a new country inside my head and forgot the streets of the other.

Postcard to Alice #60311-2

Life in technicolor isn’t as fun as it used to be. But I still want that technicolor sneakers from the mall. I love the squares of red, white, blue and others. Reminds me of Colleen; colored pencils that I lived off as a child during days of nothing at home.

Postcard to Alice #60311

There will be times you won’t be hearing from me. It’s not that I have forgotten you but it’s more of I’m keeping you from harm. I’m disappointed, but I don’t want you to feel that. I will let you live and dream. I will come back soon, with smiles and wonderful things like cakes and balloons. But for now let us remain apart.

Postcard to Alice #60211-2

It is here when all is gone, you see that little face of lost memories. I see that child playing with her dolls and drawing with her crayons. The paper is all white, the crayons are all white, the dolls are all in white. How often does she wonder of other blues and hues. But perhaps white is safer for her to imagine everything. To illuminate her world with precision and vividness.

Postcard to Alice #60211

Momentary bliss, or is it?

There was no bliss just a conscious effort.

There was no dream just an imagination of the dream.

You keep writing, anticipating but there’s really nothing or is there?

Postcard to Alice #60111-3

Don’t you look gorgeous under that dark gray knit hat. I have stopped just to see you pass by. Your eyes they are blue and violet. You hold me under your dark brown strapped boots. Here I am enslaved by you in 3 minutes.

Postcard to Alice #60111-2

I’m blinded by my own promises and words. There’s this distance from what I want to know and what I want to find out. Little words of nothing but with so much meaning. Here it is, a solid path for sentences which is all written but never said.

I choke all the time but not of fear.

#60111

I love silence at home. I love silence despite my consistent chattering. I chat away so that I wouldn’t hear my thoughts. I love silence when there is no one around. I love silence when I’m with people I’m allowed to be myself. In truth, I bark like a dog for you, but If I had a choice I would stay in a corner and watch you dance and sing. Entertain me I beg you.