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My father taught me to put "stolen from" rather than
"This belongs to" on all the things I own
And ever since then, 87% of the things I ever lost
Found its way back to me

Some with a sharp laugh,
Others with a roll of the eyes,
An awkward shrug,
An apologetic grin

But people are different, of course

You can't put a tag on them that says
MINE
Especially when they don't even know that they're
YOURS

But in daydreams, I've claimed you, time and time again
I've brushed the hair out of your eyes
Branded your forehead with a kiss
That has a mark that spelled my name

In my mind, I've claimed you, time and time again
When our eyes meet across the room, across people
And our fingers brush as I hold your hand,
And our laughter echoes in the same space

I've saved all the pieces you hesitantly give.
Your tall-ness, 
Your dreams,
You very first memory

I've held them so close to my heart,
I've turned them over in my head so many times,
That they've left dents and bruises -
And I wear each one like a badge

...

But it doesn't matter now, does it?
Because even if I have you memorized
Like the answers to a test I would have gotten an A in
It doesn't matter, because someone got to you first

So I wonder why, I'm still hoping
That one day, you'll come back to me
With an awkward shrug, an apologetic grin
Finally, telling me, you belonged to me all along

Let Me Be

My life is riddled with what ifs, as most people's are. But even knowing that, my regrets still lie heavily on my shoulders, still stuck in the pit of my stomach, still clings to me like a second skin.

"On watching someone you love, love somebody else..." 

Sierra Demulder's voice echoes in my mind: love somebody else... somebody else.

She floats around that tiny apartment, and it reminds me of a ghost trapped in the place she died in. And again, it reminds me of another of her poems.

"But what do I do with all this leftover love?
My hands were built for crawling on. 
How do I write myself gently. 
How do I not worship the shipwreck that stranded me here?"

Even though I say I'm tired of sadness, there's a part of me that isn't. There's a part of me that welcomes it - no, that clings to it. It's much easier to be sad than it is to not be. It's easier to fall into despair... It makes me think about a man thrown overboard:

He is floating on his back, staring blankly at the star-ladden night sky. The stars shine like diamonds but the light just rolls of his eyes. He is breathing, but only softly. Breathing without effort, breathing as if he's practicing to drown. 

Then the mermaids come with no song as a warning. Hands emerge from the water, and they are worse than the Grim Reaper's. The sky is black against the stars, but the sea - even blacker. And when the hands pull him into the deeper darkness, there is no whimper. There is only silence. 

Flash Fiction: Pedestrian Crossing - A Flashing Red Light

One day, I am going to give some serious thought into a story.

But today is not that day.

So here's me goofing around, reliving some of my most embarrassing moments via this piece of flash fiction. I hope it'll strike a chord of familiarity in you as it has in me. (And maybe make you groan as it has made me.)

***

Pedestrian Crossing:
A Flashing Red Light

Layla was not always a convincing actress.

She did pretty well on stage, sure. Her delivery was always on point, even when the glaring stage lights made her sweat under all that heavy make-up. A round of applause always followed every performance. In the theatre circles, she was seen as a minor celebrity. Although of course that didn't mean much in college.

Layla was not always a convincing actress - not when there was no stage, no script, no director. Not when she had only one spectator.

This is impossible, she thought as she punched random keys - the sound too loud in her ears. She stared hard at the paper on her the desk, willing meaning into the haphazardly written numbers. She knew that with the way she had been squinting, she looked more angry than absorbed. And yet, she just couldn't relax the muscles in her face.

Not when Allen Hawke's gaze was pinning her dawn.

Summer Workin', Having a Blast!

Because of an academic calendar shift, my usual two-month summer bumming has become a five-month existential crisis. And while I detest school load as much as the next guy, I loathe the brain dead feeling slightly more. Besides, when I am left alone with my thoughts for too long I start to think about the unpleasantries that come with being a mortal. 

So for me, the next logical step was to find a way to distract myself while actually being a useful and pragmatic human being, which roughly translates to applying for an internship!

Pay day!

Fortunately, I was accepted in the companies I applied to. My first internship was with a luxury and lifestyle magazine. As a marketing intern, I made an unbelievable number of calls and e-mails, with some menial tasks here and there. I had intended to stay there until my summer semester began but because of the tiring commute and the schedule conflict, I decided to end my internship early. And although I felt like I didn't contribute as much, my boss generously gave me copies of recent issues. 

I learned much about patience and external communications there. 

I spy with my little eye...
A birdie perched on top of my shoes?!

When I realized I could not afford to stay in my first internship, I started looking for the next one. This one - my current internship - is involved with the local footwear industry scene; and I am beyond thrilled to be part of it. 

It may sound naive of me but, directly after my interview, I knew this was a job worth sticking to. And not just because it is right across my school, but more so because I believe in what the company endorses. 

Creative story-telling, nationalism, artisanry, and socially-aware entrepreneurship - Risque Designs successfully incorporates all these things in a single pair of footwear. The designs are inspired by multiple aspects of Filipino culture like myths, animals, and the Filipina woman. Made only from local materials and by the hands of local craftsmen, these shoes are without a doubt uniquely Filipino masterpieces. 

It's so inspiring! Add to that my second day of work involved helping out with a photoshoot! 

Everything is just plain awesome. 

I can't wait what else is in store for me!

Book Review: Better off Friends

“So, as I was saying, guys and girls can be friends.'

'Best friends.' 

'And what is better than falling in love with your best friend?' 

'Nothing." 

- Levi & Macallan, Better off Friends

From the title, it's ridiculously easy to gather what this book is about. 

Yes.

It's that kind of story - when best friend A falls in love with best friend B. But, of course, best friend whoever (or even both) doesn't want to risk their beautiful friendship. And, of course, their feelings are never in sync - just when one has moved on, the other realizes his/her feelings. Then shit hits the fan.  

Book Review: Isla and the Happily Ever After

"I’m beginning to think that maybe it’s okay to be a blank canvas. Maybe it’s okay that my future is unknown." - Isla, Isla and the Happily Ever After

Isla and the Happily Ever After is the third and last instalment in Stephanie Perkins' YA contemporary romance series (which started with Anna and the French Kiss). It follows the titular character, Isla, as she goes through her senior year at the School of America in Paris (SOAP). Although the story largely takes place in the City of Lights, the novel begins in an inconspicuous pub in Manhattan called Kisment. And there she meets her long-time crush, Josh Wasserstein. She's ecstatic, of course - but witless from the medication having her wisdom teeth extracted. And so it goes - that the normally blushing Isla Martin strikes up a conversation with the normally out-of-reach Josh kick starts a long overdue romance.

At a glance, this novel is nothing special. It's your normal boy-meets-girl story. The same goes for the first two novels in the series. But this is what sets Stephanie Perkins novels apart from the rest. She takes a perfectly normal story but injects she with the sweetest of fantasies and just a tad bit of naivety. Her books are unpretentious and unashamedly optimistic. You know, just from the cover themselves, what you're in for: A love story.

Unfortunately, this book turned out to be the least compelling in the series. (Incidentally, how I would rank these books would be the same as the order they were published, with Anna and the French being the most swoon-worthy of the three. Granted, Lola and the Boy Next Door only lags behind by an inch.)

My Tokyo Dream

It's been a while since I last posted. School and other extra curricular activities kept me busy, but when summer break came, there was only one thing on my mind...

J A P A N
April 9 - 16, 2015
(✿´ ꒳ ` )

But first, a prologue:

Looking back on it now, a big part of my childhood was spent sitting too close to the television screen. I would sit cross-legged while spending hours on end watching anime. And though I never left the room, I felt like I was rarely in my house. My heart was in Japan - watching the cherry blossoms fall, experiencing high school as a first grader, making pastries with hard to pronounce names, and falling in love. 

There are times people express their surprise at the things I know, and rarely do I get the chance to say, "Oh, that? I learned that from an anime I watched". Although anime has a largely bad reputation I never grew out of it. Instead, I went even further and discovered the country behind my dream-like childhood - Japan. 

Fast forward:

Roughly two weeks ago from today, I realized my dream of visiting Japan. Although I knew it my heart that I was no longer in the Philippines, everything was touched with a tinge of familiarity. Of course I had never been to Japan before, and yet there I was, feeling like it was a part of the Philippines I was just not familiar with. 

And yet, every day was full of excitement, adventure, and exhaustion. We always came back to the apartment nearing midnight, but we always found the energy to wake up the next day for more endless walking and exploring. We went to places whose names I only heard on TV -- Shibuya, Harajuku, Odaiba -- and then more, to places I have never even heard of. 

I never wanted to leave. But alas, all good things come to an end.

...

And all good things give way to even better things.

...

If everything goes according to plan, this time next year (as part of our school's Junior Term Abroad program) I'll be back in Japan. And I simply cannot wait!

***

Here are a couple of shots I took while I was in Japan, complete with my stupid commentary: