Too many songs are playing in my head right now.

I am still I love with you, not with David Beckham.

Be careful on the use of euphemisms and dialogues.

I must pick up the pen from the pool of blood.

Either I am a believer of realism or a gardener of romanticism.

The cure for human pride: Force cannot make everybody bow down.  Persuasion has to be practiced.  Numbers matter.

            Forgotten treasure: Reagents experience catharsis through humans’ hands.  Brains fail.  Flirtations do not pay.

            Overhead projector: Either it is too slow, fast, or repetitive.  Its ending is not deemed to be spectacular.  Yet, it is longed for.

            Frozen blood: Things are never what they seem.  Truth lies underneath the skin.  Life is not always fair.

            Slide show: The timing is off, to put it bluntly.  “A delight to the eyes” may be the first impression.  People may remain silent, help, or flatter.

            Warnings: Smiles can be scary, especially when one is drunk.  Friends try to understand.  But shelter is just too far.

            Intangible pens: Writing is a virtue.  Words are weapons for this war.  Everyone wishes for survival.

            A dragon: Tensile.  Powerful.  Yummy.  Mine.

“Where will you go?”

I shall go where I can find the fulfillment of my wishes for myself and the people whom I consider as important parts of my life.

I shall go to the world of books so that I can accomplish my responsibilities to my group mates (and friends).

I shall go on my way to attend a course that I do not like, but I am willing to do so because I respect my teacher, my parents, and myself.

I shall go to the class where I am required to brandish a sword, even though it means that I am going to be wounded.  I do not intend to show off, but to prove to myself that I can firmly live with the decisions that I make.

I shall go to the bridge and I shall not mind the threats to my brain, because I am comfortable with all the things I learned in the past.

I shall go to another dimension because there are a lot of topics that I want to discover and understand.  It is not very nice if I just keep on sitting down and laughing.

I shall go to the realm of writing properly.  Even though I may spend two weeks toiling over a paper without sleeping, there are still some portions of it that I can improve.

I shall go to the deepest hollows of my brain.  This action has the purpose of bringing back the honor that was taken away from me last year, and also in hopes of bringing justice to other persons.

I shall go to you.  I shall be the answer to your prayers and the personification of your dreams.  I shall protect you from everything that may bring you harm.  Just remember that I am still trying to comprehend your perspectives, because the distance between us is only a heartbeat away.  I thank you because you love me.  You are an unexpected gift.

I shall go; yet I have to decide and be certain that my first step would be the right one.

Spring:

Flora and fauna delighted in the gentleness of the rain showers. Awakening took the place of hibernation, and sleep became a forgotten necessity. The muses traveled all over the place to check the progress of the different fields. Hearts were broken and friendships were established, while mentors were ignored. Blue roses bloomed in full glory.

Summer:

Some of the muses died from the terrible heat, no matter how loudly in denial they called themselves "immortal." Darkness was a lover, and victory was almost an achievement. Floods of doubt occurred among words and pens and art. The essence of tears were ever-present. Desire was a discovery.

Autumn:

The muse empress was crowned. Threats to the throne were skinned alive in front of the wise advisers. Due to the empress being mortal, she suffered also from failure and pathogens. But she stayed alive despite everything. At the end of it all, she proved herself worthy, though it involved black magic.

Winter:

The water did not freeze, instead its waves became more violent than ever before. Boulders were shattered and wits melted. Those who exhibited the best of their efforts were sent to the battlefield to starve and bleed in the midst of the aqua's lash. Lifelong memories were forged in the core of everyone. It was a tragedy.

For Julza, my eternal muse, whom I love beyond compare

“And I make myself vulnerable to your gaze
A being succumbed to interpretative daze
I have always shown the world how much I can be
Be it in the bounds of dreams or reality.”

            In writing this verse, I have been thinking of the time when we met under the heavy raindrops.  My mind went back to that moment when the water drenched our clothes and made your eyeliner hue (Or was it eye shadow?  Pardon me for not knowing anything about makeup) drip all over your face.  Your expression turned out to be difficult to identify due to the random shades of red, green, and black covering your smooth dark tan cheeks.  Cold, wet, and feeling silly for not bringing an umbrella, we managed to laugh and subconsciously promised each other that we would endure all tragedies like this by always smiling together.

            Since then, we became the best of friends.  Some even mistook me for your bride-to-be.  I never fell in love with you and I doubt if I ever would, for it was quite infuriating to see my own defects in another person, in the form of you, my dear.

            We both shared the passion for writing and singing.  We would spend time lying on the lap of the other reading the latest poems or vocalizing the loveliest notes.  Sometimes our hands and foreheads would touch, and would remind us how wonderful it truly was to have rediscovered our own selves in the ways of one another.

            “Narcissism” was our middle name.  We would not notice how many hours have passed because we enjoyed stroking the softness of each other’s black hair, forcing each other to try on the weirdest and the simplest of clothes and shoes, and taking pictures of each other.  Locked in the binding arms of one another, we would both stare into the mirror and delight in the beauty of each other that we perceived inside it.  Occasionally you would try to put some of your eyeliner (or eye shadow) on the edges of my eyes, but I never got used to this habit of yours.  The tints would just manage to end up staining my handkerchief.

            You were the person who taught me: “It’s better to die than be ugly.”  We would always tell each other how gorgeous we both were, even at times when eye bags developed and wind-burned areas crossed our skin.  We would embrace, cup each other’s chin, and lay our heads against each other, just to verify if the attractiveness that we saw in each other was truth.  I would often grasp your shoulders and marvel at their perfection.

            Your complexion was about three tones darker than mine, but most people pointed out that we resembled each other.  Maybe we really did, in terms of large eyes, long eyelashes, and vibrant lips.  Perhaps if you were a girl, they would have mistaken us for twins.

            I dared assume that you would come as one of the most intelligent persons that I have ever encountered.  I would say so because you were one of a few who could understand me, tolerate my insanity attacks, and agree with my theories.  It was indeed hard to believe that I would come across a person who was almost a complete copy of myself, well, except for the gender.

            You were my best friend, and I wanted to stay at your side for all eternity.  Would that be possible, darling?  What I meant was, our personalities had been clashing for two nights now because we lost our common diary.  We have not been able to find the written outlet (mostly trash) of our brains, the monotonous sounds of daily activities, and the mundane existence of homework, all of which I would never imagine myself surviving without you.

            Because you were somehow a reflection of me, our insults to each other easily depicted our common insecurities and dilemmas.  They gave away a sinister angle of both of us, thus we unintentionally betrayed our own selves in this manner.  We would remember each other all our days, and you could not deny anything from me because I have memorized you upside-down and inside out, for I was nothing else but your image.

            My best friend . . . or would I still be given the right to refer to you as such?  You were my phantom, my sunrise, my essence.  Never would I wish for a replacement for this person who was not only the male version of my own self in all aspects, but also one of the reasons why I viewed life as colorful as eyeliner (or eye shadow).  I would like to apply some on the borders of my eyes and rub my eyes against your own, so that you would realize how much you need me too.  In turn, I would show myself as both defenseless and powerful, for I knew that we had the same ambitions, and there was no way I would let you go without taking me with you.  Then we would both cry out of love for each other, making the eyeliner (or eye shadow) colors spread on our pristine features, and we would discover that living would be better if we could forgive.

“I prefer to lose (to) you, thanks
Life is a pretty (scary) game, my dear”

            It would be your choice whether to read it with the words in the parenthesis or not.  As for me, I would like to apologize and offer myself again as your best friend.

These are my favorite stories.

Once there was a traveler who was so foolish that he gave his belongings to the villagers of the town in which he came across.  It did not even occur to him that the reasons why those villagers demanded or begged to have his things were only false excuses with hidden motives.  It soon happened that the traveler gave his final piece of clothing to someone else.  With all his possessions lost, the [naked and completely empty-handed] traveler decided to live in the forest.  In that forest thrived monsters that were hungry for human flesh.  Seeing the traveler, each of them asked for an organ or limb from him so that every monster's hunger could be satisfied.  The traveler willingly gave his body parts to the monsters until all that was left of him was his head.  The traveler continued his journey through the forest until he came across the last monster that asked for his eye.  When he gave his eye to that monster, all of the monsters that he encountered before gathered around him and threw a piece of paper in front of him.  On that paper, the word "fool" was written.  The traveler wept, but not because of realization on how foolish he had been.  He said, "Thank you very much!  This is the first gift that I've ever received in my entire life!"  His tears of joy continued to fall.  He soon died, due to the fact that he could not stop his tears from falling because he didn't have one of his eyes anymore.  (I love this story because it's so hair-raising and thought-provoking).

Once there was a king whose inspiration was the large precious gem above a pedestal which he kept in one chamber of his castle.  Everyday, first thing in the morning, he would go to stare at this gem and then he would be sure to accomplish all of his duties fully.  One unexpected day, the royal jester bumped into the pedestal and caused the gem to fall down.  The jester immediately picked up the gem again and placed it back on the pedestal without further thinking.  The jester looked at the gem and saw that it had a noticeable crack.  Fearing the king's anger, the jester told no one about this occurrence.  When the king woke up the next morning and went to see the gem, he was disappointed.  He could not attend to his duties well.  This went on for days until a stranger demanded to see the king.  When the stranger had his chance to face the king, the stranger said that should the king entrust the gem into his hands, he would guarantee that when he return the gem, it would be more beautiful than before.  Although hesitant at first, the king gave the gem to the stranger.  When the stranger arrived home to inspect the crack, he got worried, for he was unsure on how to fix that kind of damage that he never encountered before.  However, the next morning, he returned the gem to the king, and the king was so pleased.  What did the stranger do?  The stranger got a fresh rose and inserted its stem into the crack, turning the crack into something useful.  (I love this story because at first, I thought the king was pleased because he realized that it was better to keep the gem with a crack than to entrust it to a stranger whose return was unsure).

I wish I would be able to write a single work which could be considered as a good one.

One of my friends is having problems with the romantic aspect of his life, so he asked me a few questions and I decided to answer them in this manner.  I sounded like a magazine columnist.


“What is enjoying life?"

 Enjoying life is looking at the best instead of the worst aspects of a situation.  You can do that by not acting too suspicious or watchful of your surroundings, in other words, by not being paranoid about the possibilities in life.  Life offers a wide range of possibilities but then, our decisions and the way that we deal with whatever we encounter can somehow narrow down those possibilities, thus offering you options that you deserve.  Enjoying life does not mean being too laid-back and carefree, because life is not perfect and always full of bliss.  We all go through problems and moments of doubt or insecurity, but then we have to rely on the fact that no problem would exist without a corresponding solution.  Just smile, laugh without reason, or sing your heart out despite all the stress.

"How can I strengthen the bond?"

 Communicate.  Grab any possible opportunity to talk about yourselves, your dreams, your perspectives.

 Show respect.  It's nice to find things in common, but maintain separate identities by respecting and enjoying each other's differences.

Exhibit trust and loyalty.  Talk about your insecurities about the possibilities in life, and give each other a constant reassurance that you'll always belong to each other.  And always keep your word.

Resolve conflicts (if any) as soon as possible.  Talk about them (whose fault it was, why it happened that way, how both of you felt, etc) then forgive and move on.

Love!  As I've said before, learning to love somebody is a continuous process.  Focus on the positive attributes of each other, support each other's strengths, and be understanding about each other's weaknesses.  Spend as much possible time together.

"What are the possible signs that a woman is losing interest in a man?"

She rolls her eyes or pretends to be busy with something when he's around.

She gives him one-word/short/vague answers with a tone of finality whenever he asks a question.

She gets irritated whenever somebody would ask/say things that involve her and him.

She becomes insensitive to his wants and needs.

She talks to him A LOT about her celebrity/fictional crush and highlights the "good things" about that crush.  She may even do comparisons.

She shows no appreciation for his gifts and efforts.

She would not answer phone calls from him, would not reply to his emails and text messages, and would invent alibis during personal confrontations.


I hope the things I said would help him though.

My schoolmates say that they have already proven that a certain weather spell works. If it is raining, just get a piece of paper and a pen, and then draw a picture of the sun. As if by magic, the sun will be present. If the sun is shining in all its unbearable scorching glory, sketch some clouds. Some white fluffs will appear on the blue sky to cover the sun. It is simple yet successful, at least according to them.

I believe that their perspective regarding this weather spell is nothing but a childish fantasy, similar to the absurd idea that a pot of gold is present at the end of the rainbow. But as I ponder about the weather spell over and over again, I soon realize that somehow within my being, I wish that the weather spell were really effective. And I begin to dream that by drawing pictures of different things on paper, they would become factual and existent. In that way, we can solve all the problems in the world. Hunger? Draw a luxurious banquet. Poverty? Draw a treasure chest. War? Draw peaceful portraits to resolve it. Any problem would immediately have a solution. Just make sure that the world would not forget to manufacture enough paper and pens to meet everyone’s needs and wants. The macrocosm would be perfect.

What a paradox. In every person’s heart resides greed, although its amount varies from one person to another. But still, greed can lead to destruction. Literally and figuratively so. Thus, if the spell were true, people might tend to abuse it. It is normal that people crave for momentary pleasures, yet too much of such earthly glory is disadvantageous. Also, not all people have good intentions. Therefore if the spell were actual, nobody could be assured that it would be safe to rely on it. Life would be more complicated than ever.

Yet, stubborn as I am, I still hope that the spell were real, but not with material things. I imagine it being efficient in promoting peace, harmony, and intellect. My opinion about this is sort of abstract, but I think it would be psychologically helpful. I mean, it may appear weird, but why not try to envision it? After all, I have the right to visualize what is considered unreal.

For example, just by drawing on paper, a person could pass information from his memory to all other brains in the universe. In that way, it would be effortless for a teacher to make the students understand a particular matter, or for parents to make their children grasp their perspective. Would not that be great?

Moreover, people could indeed sympathize or empathize better with each other in this way. Just draw it and everyone else would feel the same way about it. That would be very nice, because people’s reactions would be more sincere and convincing.

Also, if one looks forward to causing others to become happy, all that he would have to do is to draw it. It would not be necessary for him to attempt other silly ways to cheer others up.

Existing upon the face of this Earth would be cool and cute. Or so I thought.

What if through the spell, a person delivered false data to everybody else’s mind? Or worse, what if a person distributed evil or shocking facts that might traumatize others or give them serious heart attacks?

The imposing of emotion on one’s spirit is ridiculous too. If people could control the feelings of one another, then everyone would be like puppets. It would be as if no one would be in command of their own souls. It would be so gloomy.

The entirety of the normal planet that we now have would be very altered. I do not even like to meditate about the irrationality of the spell.

If only everything could be fixed if I grabbed that pen and started drawing, I would have only a few troubles. But then again, the dreadful consequences, that might happen if the spell were regarded as truth, haunt my psyche, enough to make me feel contented, at least for the time being. We shall see.

Novice:  Good day, Mother Superior.  You sent for me.  What is it?

Mother Superior:  Have a seat, my child.  I have already read the letter that you slid under the door of this office.  Are you sure you wish to leave us?  You are one of the most promising novices and I would personally consider it a loss to let you go.

Novice:  Yes, Mother Superior.  Even though it has been my lifelong dream to serve God until the day I die, I have no more right to be here.  My irregular appetite and sleeping habits have been bothering the other nuns for several days now so I have decided that it would be best for me to move away.

Mother Superior:  Merciful heavens!  Is that all?  My child, God created each of us with imperfections.  If you are currently having problems, do not look at yourself as a burden to us.  How are you now?  Do you still feel sick?

Novice:  In a way . . .

Mother Superior:  We are not in the era of the Inquisition; I have no plan of having you burned at the stake.  Whatever it may be that is truly making you act these ways, you may tell me, my child.

Novice:  My mission weeks ago . . . the inhabitants of the mountains . . . the leader of the tribe, he . . . he . . . as a return for what I’ve done for them, he showed me the “path to holiness” . . . that’s it!  He led me into his tent, and there . . . he told me, no, he did it to me . . . he said it was what the people of his tribe believed to be the means to acquire holiness . . . (vomits)

Mother Superior:  (does the sign of the cross)  Mother of Jesus!  What will the entire congregation say?

Novice:  (recovers)  I’m sorry, Mother.  (cries again)

Mother Superior:  God pardons the weaknesses of humankind, my child.  All of thus must therefore do the same.

*This piece is the product of being shown a truly eerie thing in class.*

The day’s purposes have been served; my missions have been fully accomplished.  Thus, I started to walk home through the stony footpath, where I encountered an object of curiosity.  To me it initially appeared as a white stuffed toy, most likely a teddy bear, but a much weirder version in comparison to the usual ones.  It had purple smudges as its nose and ears, and a blood-hued cross mark served as its mouth.  With a lot of cross marks all over its body and face, its appearance contained a mysterious, or even scary, impression.  The cross marks stood out not only because of their shape, but also because of the brightness of their colors in contrast to the immaculate whiteness of the teddy bear.  The blue, green, red, and yellow tints of the cross marks seemed to be proudly declaring their intensity.  I picked the toy up, and found out that its material was soft.  Running my fingers through it, I realized that though it appeared delicate, it was pretty durable.  I wondered what sort of a person would leave it there, may it be intentional or not.  At first glance it appeared harmless, a child’s plaything left by its young owner maybe upon setting eyes on something seemingly more interesting.  Yet, the cross marks created a feeling of dread upon me, as if the teddy bear possessed some kind of dangerous, shocking powers.  But then, my judgmental side was completely covered by my eagerness to learn more about the toy.  I placed it in my bag, either to be forgotten or to be returned to its yet-to-be-discovered owner.  Without planning to look back for more surprises, I rushed straight into the comforts of home.

This entry is majorly composed of random thoughts and semi-subconscious frustrations.

Do not twist my rosebuds, pretty boy.  Just enjoy the broken glass that I spilled around your dancing feet.  If you want to cry, I shall be ready to wipe your tears with sandpaper.  And oh yeah, you owe me a song.  And heck I don’t even fancy dating you.  Dump the daydreams.

“Maiden, I miss your kiss, so tell me why you left me.”  Gods, what are you talking about?  The last physical contact that we ever had was when our foreheads collided (and the incident made everybody stare at us).  And stop your two-hour phone calls.  I maintain better relationships with people who leave bits of mystery about their personality.  I mean, I do not dream of memorizing your character in detail, enough to predict your reactions and moods since I’d easily grow tired of you that way.  Just go on with the text messages and help me with my shattered sanity.  And please no more green butterflies.

Love is having somebody to nudge when I see something extraordinary and feel an urgent liking to share it.  The world gives me the chance to see enormous blue-eyed white cats on concrete stairs and semi-dried leaves embedded in cemented roads.  Aren’t these things simply wonderful?  *tries to nudge but elbow was only met with the voice of the (nonexistent) breeze*

I cannot fathom why it looks as if you regret your decision.  You are sensible and capable enough of choosing your destiny, and I know that you believe that things work this way as well.  I shall not accuse you of jealousy and indifference, although addressing your state as plain stupidity would be an understatement.  And I cannot understand why your actions affect me in this manner.  Perhaps it is because the past is ever so difficult to forget.  Or maybe due to the possibility that somehow we still contain romantic feelings for each other.  But then, let us remember that it was you who asked for the bow.  I willingly gave you the bow, complete with a dozen arrows.  Delightfully, I watched as you loaded one arrow into the bow and aimed at the sun.  Yet, when the right time for you to strike the sun came, you bowed your head and dropped your weapon.  You doubted your ability and promptly admitted defeat although you haven’t experienced it directly yet.  In other words, you became afraid of handling the bow again since you instilled in yourself that it would never be reality for you to be successful in making the sun taste the tip of your arrow.  Was it my fault since I provided you the weapon without hesitation?  Or was it yours because you requested for it but failed to consider the consequences that go hand and hand with it?  It all depends on perspective.  And since you are firm, I shall not attempt to argue with you anymore.  Good luck in your endeavors.

Roll not my sleeves to see the bruises that I got from my opponent’s blade.  You scare me when you trace the edges of my wounds.  I am not certain if I can still tolerate the kissing sounds you make in my ear or the stares you provide my chest with.  I’ll never let you touch or even have a glimpse of my goods.

I see no reason why elves and mountains and pasta and squirrels must be envious of each other.  They’re all fantastic.

I wish I could solve those figure tiles as fast as you do, as quick as the flash of a camera.  And who knows, maybe one of these days I’d consent to your proposal to have us take a bath together.  I am really disturbed by the way you say that my (virgin but not innocent) perspective shows in the way I dress.  Kadookah . . .

I am glad that you said I look like Jasmine.  I’ve always been compared to Snow White.  And although I (may) have Snow White’s cheekbones and lips, my complexion is more similar to that of Jasmine.  Thanks for the compliment.  And I really am grateful for your presence as my attendant and interpreter.  You made me feel like a real monarch.

When would you learn to stop bombarding me with questions?  I like our conversations because you make me think and realize the bounds of my true self, but then can’t you understand that I don’t have answers to all the puzzles of the universe?  You are a great friend, but I wish you should consider that sometimes, I just want to be left alone to suffer.  Never say “ouch” when I pinch your cheeks.  Say “ouch” when I swing a hammer in your face.  And don’t use me as a pillow, for respect’s sake.

And yeahyeah, you owe me twenty-six bucks . . . um, wait, it’s seven hundred bucks minus two cents . . . pay me otherwise I will murder you in your next life.  And Planet Pluto ought to have four hundred bucks of soulful flair.  Oh, just a sudden insight!  Pluto is a dwarf planet!  No sarcasms involved.  Loyalty is highly appreciated, err required.

Why did you choose him over me?  I thought you’d rather commit suicide than approach him.  Then now you left me so that you could marry him?  I imagined that you would only give me red roses and not white ones.  The drops of blood dripping from my hands are my wedding gifts to you, milady.  I dream of making you happy with me.  I wanted to be your wife.  I wanted you to be my wife.  Yet I guess I forgot to propose to you.  So now I lost you.

“What did he see in her that he didn’t see in you?  You’re undeniably far more beautiful than his current girlfriend!”  Wow, thanks.  I never expected you to say such a flattering remark.  Don’t worry about me, I’m over that idiotic monkey.  I now have a boyfriend who is a billion times cuter and better than that monkey.  And if ever he and his current girlfriend get married, I would even shower them with gifts and words like “best wishes.”

Chicken teriyaki with half-cooked egg and half a cup of saffron-flavored rice, and lemon tea.  Drop the doughnuts and the garlic.  And a slice of butterscotch brownies.  I’m quite surprised that egg arroz caldo hasn’t been demonitized.

Buddy, I bid like a hundred bucks just for a date with you.  We talk a lot about life and its in-depth possibilities, but allow me to have what I paid for.

I just thought you need to get to know me better.  Remind me how to say your name.

Zealous fingers seduce me so

Hearts beat faster, flames start to show

In your deep eyes, you capture me

Looming passion’s uncertainty

Over time, drowning in sweetness

Numbing my spirit’s shattered crest

Gone is self-love through your embrace

Zephyrs in words soothe us always

Holding on despite the distance

Unbroken, in emotion’s trance

And the homework piled up on both of us.  Someday I wish that we would be the only things we have so that we could pile up on each other.  ^_~  The party last Friday made me miss your touch that I wept.  Recall the windy atmosphere, the starless sky, the inadequate food, the cute people, the groovy music, and the jovial dances.  Sounds just like our darkness, doesn’t it?

We had a story machine exercise wherein each sentence had to begin with the letters of the alphabet in order.  This was the unedited result of my paper as it was passed around several times in class.  The only thing that I was required to supply here was the first sentence.  By coincidence, I was also the one who wrote the sentence which began with “M.”  The title and all the other sentences were supplied by my classmates.

A Lovely Paper On Very?

            Admiring the incredible beauty of the sunrise, Julian’s memory drifted back one year ago.  Being a doctor didn’t seem as promising as it would have.  Challenges of being one were the barriers in fulfilling her dream.  Doctor Julian Moore – his dream is now a reality.  Even though he didn’t think he’ll make it, here he is now, a fully pledged physician.  Fate however always seemed to play its tricks on her.  Gains has it losses too and it will surface to her body because the physical toll’s too much.  Her body can’t take it but her mind refuses to give up.  Inspite of [or maybe despite?] the pain, Julian works on.  Julian Moore was a determined person and any problem that came his way would not change this fact.  Kite, his friend suddenly paid a visit.  Late that evening, when she didn’t expect him to come.  “Money,” Kite said, “is the reason to why I’m here.”  “Never did I need it as much as I need it now,” Kite added.  Or was he just here for some other reason.  Prepared to have her heart broken again, Julian asked Kite for the real reason why he’d fly all the way to America to just see her.  Questions flooded her mind.  Remembering all the bad things she’ve gone through, Julian lost all the little hope that’s left in her.  Seeing that sadness was overcoming Julian’s face, Kite wanted to make her happy.  “Think of something!” Kite silently said to himself.  Under the moonlit sky, he held her hand.  “Violets,” she whispered.  Wondering of what Julian said, Kite was amused.  X-rated movies he used to watch had not prepared for this decidedly unsexy result.  “You’re thinking of something stupid aren’t you?” asked Julian.  Zap! the whole Julian and Kite soap opera is kind of dragging and jenny turned off the tv.

            Julian, the main character, seemed to have an ever-changing gender in the beginning, as masculine and feminine pronouns were both used to refer to Julian.  Nearing the end, Julian was decided to be a girl and there was tension between Julian and a male friend named Kite.

            The grammar was dreadful, yet it was due to the limited thinking time which was given for each of us to write a complete sentence.  The title did not make any sense at all and appeared to have no connection to the story.

            The story was of little substance, and I was thankful that the last sentence was able to end it that way and somehow provide justification as to why it was odd.  All the sentences from A to Y were scenes from a sappy soap opera, which the Z sentence chose to end.

            So far, this was the class activity I enjoyed the most.  It was amusing to continue each other’s stories without giving so much thought to what was happening within every scene.

This is dedicated to an ex-special someone.  Today is his birthday.

           Remember that fateful day when you suggested that we create a wonderful portrait of ourselves?  Do you recall the smiles and the laughter we shared as I agreed?  Do you still think about how we began to work on your idea?

            In strokes and swirls of red and black and yellow, our souls were unleashed.  Within, our voices exclaimed numerous thoughts through different intensities of hues.  Our fingers moved in harmony as we carefully planned and laid out each line and every shade.  No elaborate words were needed between us, for our hearts spoke the exact same ideals, and those were more than enough to direct both of us to painting what we wished to.

            Something within my psyche urged me to dip the paintbrush into the can of green paint.  Considering it as a harmless dare, I let the tip of the paintbrush come in contact with the green emulsion.  I swirled the paintbrush with a nonchalant flair.  Satisfied, I gripped it tightly and held it against our canvas.  I prepared to make a thick, green imprint out of it.

            Unexpectedly, your fingers enclosed my wrist and hindered me from continuing my plan.  Moreover, your action stunned me so much that all I could do was to stare at your eyes.

            Not waiting for me to ask you for an explanation, you told me that it would be impossible for us to finish the portrait.  You made me understand your doubts and realize your fears.  Although I myself was aware of those matters beforehand, the event seemed to inject a poison of sorrow into my being.

            Nonetheless, I accepted your sudden change of mind.  You kissed my paint-stained fingers as a sign of gratitude.  As we mentioned our goodbyes, I wanted to weep.  I was tempted to show you how painful it was for me to let you go yet my love for you prevailed.  I could never allow my selfishness to imprison you in a world where you would be uncomfortable.  As you stood and left, I bit my lip in fear that I would shout your name and cause our separation to become harder for you.

            That incomplete picture of our dreams is still in my care.  Even though in other people’s perspective it is nothing but a mess of splatters of undecipherable color combinations, for me it is my most valuable possession.  It reminds me of the stories we once reminisced, of the days we once treasured, and of the love we once cherished.

            I still miss you.  I cannot measure how many times a minute that the image of you would appear in my mind.  Even the subconscious fraction of my spirit drowns in your memory.

            I would like you to know that I am willing to wait for the moment when you would come back to offer your help so that, together, we shall accomplish that portrait of us.  And who knows, maybe this time you would let me touch that green paint, after all we are just a couple of birds learning how to endure the bitter representations of distance . . .

           Happy birthday, my friend.

When you say my name, I fly to the peak of imagination yet I experience reality at the same time.  You have the power to affect my psyche to soar through the passageways of fantasy but simultaneously you strike a definite chord that brings me back to the universe of actuality.

            You may say that I am the perfect abomination of the mixture of honey and mustard.  You do not sleep unless you feel my presence at your side.  But I tell you, no matter what we go through, you are safe in my arms.

            You may say that we need to be educated through one another’s examples.  When we discuss religion and history, your lessons nauseate me.  But, your devices are important parts of my life.  And so are you.

            You may say that I am as beautiful as potatoes.  You may deny your fondness for me, yet you cannot deceive me because I can interpret your overwhelming affection for me through your actions.  Whatever comes up, your hand is the one which I will hold on to.

            You may say that I have substance.  You fascinate me because you can be emotional and emotionless at the same time.  You are my first ally and my logical psycho.  To offer my moments, yearning, is awesome.  You remind me that I am a thinker, but that does not mean that I lost the ability to feel.  Like diamonds, you almost have me addicted to your interesting views.

            You may say that what I convey to you is confusing.  In your eyes, paradise is composed of water lilies and fish.  But I have never imagined being in a boring desert that you consider your home.  Yet, you are the person who can make me realize the complexities of geography and language.

            You may say that you want “to braid my pretty hair.”  We fill each other with laughter.  I like to stay beside you.

            You may say that weirdness is the best policy.  You scare me at times, but I am aware of the responsibility that I have to get used to your presence.

            You may say that I am someone you haven’t understood yet.  You may be right, but then it doesn’t mean that we cannot be friends, for I am offering myself as one of your lifetime’s memories.

            You may say that I have to be independent and I have to solve the puzzles of existence through my own instincts.  Mind you, you are in great need to figure your planets out.  Yet, you are still essential to me.

            You may say that I can ask you about anything.  You are willing to share all the answers.  Although we rarely see each other now, nothing can make me forget you.

            You may say that I have the potential.  Surprisingly, you never speak to me seriously.  Nonetheless, you delight my senses and you inspire me.

            You may say that I am weaker than you are.  You seem to help me to stay strong, yet at times you never understand.  Still, even if you cannot make or break my wonderful world, you are one of the reasons why I call it “wonderful.”

            You may say that I do not allow your soul to fly in the realm of dreams.  Yet, my only purpose for doing that is to stop your mind from being contaminated with hopeless visions of false opinions.  You do not even explain to me why you choose to reside in this abyss of secrecy.  Ironically, I still wish to talk to you.

            You may say that I do not succeed in defining my aim.  I notice that you do not even know where to go for your ideas are a twisted labyrinth turned upside-down and inside out.  Nevertheless, you hold a promise of pleasure.

            You may say that I can overcome everything.  You attempt to aid me in my desires even though you know quite well that I am likely to fail.  But in the process, I learn a lot of things that I do not expect to encounter.

            You may say that you can trust me.  However, remember that golden fists are better than black ones.  A pact is not meant to be unsealed, but mind you, I can attach or insert other things into that seal without breaking it.  Still, I like your perspective.

            You may say that you scream only to unleash your emotion.  I am here for you to offer my stories of encouragement during the most drastic of times.  You have done so many favors for me that I think of you every now and then.  I can never thank you enough.

            You may say good things to me.  You shower me with compliments and images that keep my sanity intact.  You promise to protect me, although I cannot guess how you will do so.  We try to handle the humor mixed with the properties of a morsel of seriousness.  You express your liking for me, but there is immeasurable amount of ether between us.  Yet, no matter how infinite these barriers are, my voice will seep through their immaculacy, and will proclaim how endless my love for you is.

            When bubbles on the strainer melt after I expose them to open fire, I shall teach you to be near me.  Finally, we shall be free to drown in the aspirations of an albatross.

I thought of all these things while I was doing my favorite housework, which is washing the dishes.  People have shaped my life and my way of perceiving things.  I love them for all their influences, and for who they are. 

When I was nine, I loved to read the book “Everything You Always Wanted To Know About Sex, But Was Always Afraid to Ask.”  My curiosity about the three-letter word began because I accidentally heard from Kon, my fourteen-year-old cousin, that sex was the very reason for human existence.  Kon widened his eyes at me when I attempted to inquire what sex was.  Seeing the bulging nerves in his eyeballs stopped me from bringing up the topic to any member of my family.  Yet, the said event did not put an end to my eagerness to gain knowledge about sex.  I found the answer to my prayers when one of my classmates named Angie and her teenage sister visited me to help me sort out some ideas for a school project.  Angie’s sister left a very interesting book under my bed, of all places.  I spent my entire free time browsing through its glossy informative pages, and I made sure that I was careful enough to shield it from the watchful senses of my parents.  When it finally occurred to my mind what sex was, I cried for I imagined how it must have hurt my beloved mother to have me conceived.  Oh well, at least I became confident that I would get perfect scores anytime my teachers would decide to give our class some tests about different positions, err I mean, male and female reproductive systems.

Excitement was visible in my senses as my father handed me the envelope.  The delicate material’s bluish white color was scarred with the difficulties of traveling all the way from Europe, its point of origin, into my hands, its final destination.  I dare assume that the only thing that made it survive was the sturdiness of the object inside it, well, besides from all the thoughts and feelings it contained.

            “Accept his love,” my father said dryly.  Did I say he handed the envelope to me?  Actually he tossed it.

            “He’s not a suitor!” my mouth wanted to shout, but I knew my brain was working because it had been able to prevent my vocal chords from producing any sound.

            I heard my father questioning, “What’s his name again?” as I proceeded to open the envelope.

            “Fareldino,” came my reply.

            “Oh, so that’s your friend, right?  And your suitor is Peter?”  My senses were met with more inquiries from my father.

            “Yeah,” I said as I rolled my eyeballs at his forgetfulness, or should I say lack of update on his daughter’s social life.

            I laughed to myself as I saw the sea lion designs on the greeting card.  So I irrevocably believed that Fareldino officially consented to being a “sea lion” as his girlfriend, Coumiene, would teasingly refer to him.  My eyes journeyed across the words written inside.  After that, I placed the card back into the protective space within the envelope.  Then, I ensured that I put the envelope in an area where it would be safe from other’s eyes and all elements of evil, yet easily remembered by me.

            Later, Coumiene and I had the chance to talk online.  I found out that the greeting card that Fareldino sent me was exactly the same as what Coumiene received from him.  Of course I would not probe if both cards included similar messages, but most probably they did not.

            It would be hypocritical of me if I would not admit that I felt bad about it, because it was as if Fareldino ranked us, Coumiene and myself, on an equal level.  Fareldino should have purchased a more special card for his girlfriend.

I know I might be overreacting on the cards yet, I really think their identical appearance could make one misinterpret the relationship between Fareldino and me.  And I do not want that, because I do not wish to be a source of conflict between Fareldino and Coumiene.  Also, my suitor a.k.a. boyfriend Peter might get jealous and stop sending me those cute holiday cards imprinted with the words “To you whom I miss the most.”