arakins

This is a safe space for my thoughts. Without judgment. Without interference. Without imposition.

For that, I am grateful.

arakins

Feelings are hard to decipher.
They're fleeting and inconsistent, yet maddeningly ever-present.
I don't attempt to understand every little emotion that pass through my body.
Often, i just ride the waves and wait til it's over.
But something tells me this big wave will have to be faced. I've been drowning myself in it for too long.

Just beyond the gray horizon, i think there is actually a lifeboat waiting. I just have to gather enough strength and willpower to swim. Paddle. Kick. Reach. Resurface.

arakins

Found these in my summer notebook.

Boredom at its finest ;p

I gaze at those steady, warm brown windows

To a new beginning, a bitter ending, a sweet parting

Stop this senseless banter, I shake the very foundations of my being

Nothing else do I desire more than to belong

To the scent of the mountainside, the secure hold

The history

The mystery

Of those weathered hands

****

As I await with breathless anxiety

Riveting and consuming distress

Tick tock, knock, ring a ding,

Buzzing.

They are all moving without hesitation

Following the standard rhythm of today’s agenda

I wait. I sit still. I write.

Still, the humdrum continues

I strain to hear the one sound I’ve yearned for

Nothing.

A sign of reaching out, of concern, of interest?

Bleep.

It is dead.

"If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast." - Ernest Hemingway, 1950

I feel like I could go on forever, describing my experiences in Europe, yet I would still never be able to capture just how beautiful it was.

Let me start then, with Paris.

In Paris, I could be doing a million insignificant things, but they will all stem out from me with such passion and creativity, that it is almost poetic. Yes folks, Paris does that to you. Everything they said in the movies were true. As I look back now, I can still see everything with detailed clarity.

I am gazing up at the magnificence of the Eiffel Tower, and cruising through the River Seine feeling like a star-crossed lover, a poet on a mission, even a gypsy on a mischievous adventure, all at the same time.

I am back in front of the Sacre Couer, where beauty and holiness coincide, and then I forget the entire purpose of entering a Church. I am once more inside the Louvre, amidst all those wonderful works of art – intricately-made sculptures, paintings of famous French and Italian artists, handwritten letters of Queens and Kings, artifacts and remnants from ancient civilizations. Egyptian. Mesopotamian. Roman. Walking through the halls of the Louvre was a dream come true. I felt like I was back in my World History class, gazing up with much enthusiasm at all these creations; evidence of man’s ingenuity and creativity, and ultimately, his passion for life.

Paris will always be Paris – the romance capital of the world. Even though I have imagined my Parisian experience quite differently, (perhaps, a little less tourist-y) I still felt like I have finally understood the phrase, ‘romance is in the air’. Not in a Valentine’s day kind of atmosphere, but in that genuinely poetic Paris scene at sunset --  families, couples, and groups of friends, having picnics at the banks of the River Seine.

While pleasantly observing locals waving good-naturedly at the sight-seers on the river cruise, or men blowing kisses from atop the bridges, I slowly felt the first few warm tugs at my heart, which eventually secured Paris as a special place.

arakins

Ah, yes. I am in that excruciating time where society expects me to flash that applicant smile, answer questions, succumb to norms, and follow the black-clad, high-heeled, bespectacled majority into the tall buildings cradled in the midst of that big, bad corporate world. I was never really fascinated with that particular lifestyle. For one, I never understood how working in a desk for 8 hours, 6 days a week, could be in any way, appealing. I also do not see how contributing your unparalleled talents and skills to a large company could benefit society, in general. Helping rich people generate even more money is not exactly what I had in mind when I vowed to make this world a better place. Filing papers, running around in heels, and PR-talking away in my cell don’t really count as fulfilling either. At least, not in my opinion. I know some people who are very content with what they do in their own respective companies. They found fulfillment and purpose. They saw the light. Me? I’m still looking through a rose-colored lens, backpacking through clouds and fields of purple flowers, while trying to dodge some tricky land mines. I’m not sure if that’s the wisest thing to do right now. But then again, it has always been my nature.

I definitely understand how enticing this world could be for some. A desk with a great view, situated by the window of a high rise. A “power suit” worn to perfection by confident, sassy, intelligent individuals. The hustle and bustle of the life often understood to be tantamount to success. And of course, the wonderful benefits and compensations that go with it. I understand all that perfectly well. I even saw some of that firsthand... 

Sometime last week, I led myself into a cubicle for my first ever interview for a management training position in a bank. Can you believe that? An effing bank. The paramount image of a cubicle life. Just perfect. While every inch of me was screaming for help, I braved the cold, marble hallway because I needed others to believe I was not ditching offers just because I do not want to work. Geez, of course I want to be employed! I’ve never been this bored my entire life, and I’ve only been out of school for a month! My life used to be all about late nights, piles of readings, chapters and chapters to study, hundreds of pages to write, and oral defenses to prepare for. I had no problem with being a student. I definitely have no problem with becoming an employee.

However, I will not be coerced into doing something I absolutely have no interest in doing. I do not need to prove my capabilities in securing a good future to anyone but me. I showed up for my interview anyway, because it was the appropriate and tasteful thing to do. The young woman who was conducting the interview told me I passed, but that I have to discern if I still want to move to the next level given the circumstances that have just been laid out. I politely told her that I will take her card and let her know. Then, I walked away. Okay, I think I almost ran.

If I am going to be honest with myself, I do not think corporate life is for me. I used to envision myself distributing relief goods somewhere in North Africa. Or teaching young Indonesians how to speak English. I could see myself wearing jeans and t-shirt and sneakers to work, with my hair tied back and only a pen and paper in hand. I think I still kinda do, only now, I'm coming from a more realistic point of view.

Everyone has had dreams of going far, far away. I know I do. I long to travel the world and experience everything it has to offer, with all my five senses. I want to see the sun set in the great safaris of Africa. I want to feel the snout of seals in Antartica against my palm. I want to hear beautiful South American music while watching them dance and sway to the rhythm of sound. I want to taste world famous Spanish cuisine from some decrepit restaurant in Madrid. I want to smell the saltiness of the Dead Sea.

Then, I want to share these experiences with anyone who wants to listen. Surely, that is something worth doing. Because if that is not what a dream sounds like, then I'm pretty sure I no longer want to dream.

arakins

I finally understand the truth behind the consuming pain of a major disappointment. Sure, I’ve had my letdowns in the past. An extremely low grade in Chemistry even after a night of burning the midnight oil. A firm “No” from my Dad when I asked to go to Puerto Galera with my friends. A position I didn’t get after going through one horrendous application process. But then there are those that really, really turn my world around. A night of silence when it should have been cheerful.  A nod instead of a smile. A pat instead of a hug. A shrug instead of an exuberant YES! We’ve all had our share of that dreadful thing called frustration. Yet there is nothing more earth-shattering than the realization that a dream was a sham, a goal never meant to be achieved, and an ideal that was a lie.

Physically speaking, the sensation is the same as yanking a rug from beneath your feet. Gravity takes effect and your world turns upside down. A thud sounds from deep within the recesses of your stomach. Something inside was pulled, pushed, twisted, torn apart, crushed in a deadly grip then slowly released and left to hang limply at its side, worn out and wasted.

The memories of that night still keep me lying awake in bed thinking of all the different scenarios that were, and that could have been.  Regrets come and go as I continually justify, reconstruct, and reinvent my principles. And now, I mourn. For the person I was that died along with the fading lights of night. For the demise of a part of me that held on and put so much at stake in the hands of novelists, poets, and artists. For the romantic in me that will never again resurface with the same audacity and foolish yet candid love for the world. Ultimately, it had to happen for my own good. I had to wake up from the dream I was living. The real world is not kind to romantics. It has no room for people like us, who ogle and fly, leap and paint, giggle to death and swim to unchartered waters.

Sometimes , I wonder why I insist on looking for these things. It obviously hasn’t done me any good. It is not taking my life anywhere close to where people would want me to be. It hasn’t made me happier nor sadder. Just more hopeful. Everyday, I attach a bead of hope to my already long string of wishes. I am just not sure anymore how long before my string snaps from all the weight. Maybe that’s why times like that needed to happen to me. It is as if in a span of a couple of months, I have become both a coward and the bravest I have ever been, cruel and kinder, cynical and even more idealistic.

arakins

(composed during one of em boring Theo classes)

Take me back to Never Never Land. The real world is suffocating. I miss the bonfires, and sweet-smelling marshmallows. I miss the salty taste of the ocean, the carefree bliss of flying birds, the cotton candy skies that greet me at sunset, the crazy colored monkeys, jumping lizards, and furry white rabbits. I even miss the yo ho ho of rum-loving pirates, their sneers, and unsteady gaits. I would love to hear once more the drum beats of Indian dances, as they circle the fire at the dead of night, in their colorful quilts and painted red faces. Most of all, I miss the wind on my face -- the very thing that signal my freedom,  that remind me I could FLY!