I remember in 1998. My father uncharacteristically cooked breakfast for us��pancit canton (of the instant variety) prepared with such attention to detail and with such tender loving care. I was 12 years old back then and dismissed that meal as a simple breakfast; I was too busy embelleshing my school notes to even care. But I knew right there and then that my father was bound to leave for Saudi that day.

During his first tour of duty as an overseas Filipino worker (an architect), he had to stay there for two years. After that, he already had the leeway to take a vacation every year.

And now within a matter of hours, he'd be returning to Saudi again. I should know in more ways than one. Now that I spend lunch time at home this sembreak, I have them with my mother and father regularly while watching Eat Bulaga. And without fail, my father would prepare iced tea for the three of us with the same attention to detail and TLC.

That I call the pancit canton phenomenon.

Kung ito ba naman ang makikita ko araw-araw, tototohanin ko talaga ang iskema ko na agawan ng trabaho si Ivan Mayrina sa show na Pinoy Abroad... at least stepping stone yun sa pagbibiyahe. Pero hindi na ata uulit ang Pinoy Abroad sa New Zealand kasi kakagaling lang nila dun...

Gusto ko pabiya-biyahe na lang ako leisurely sa kung saan-saang lupalop pagtapak ko ng 50 years. Kung mass media ang tahakin ko pagka-graduate, magawa ko kaya yun? Ayokong aksayahin oras ko sa loob ng opisina. Sayang lang.

At their peak, I never was a fan of the band Vertical Horizon...
But well, some things just sink in, and I learned to appreciate their signature sound eventually.

Best I Ever Had.
Vertical Horizon

So you sailed away
into a grey sky morning.
Now I'm here to stay.
Love can be so boring.

Nothing's quite the same now.
I just say your name now.

In the lobby which most people acknowledges as ours, I'd often sing a verse or two, trying hard to give justice to the falsetto rendition of the original vocals. Often times you don't hear it. The rare instances you do, I would subconsciously imagine I was singing in front of a large, live, open-field audience... so that I'd be pressured to deliver the notes as precise as possible.

And I'd guess I'd have to get used to imagining a large concert-like audience. Because on impulse or out of boredom, I might suddenly sing verses of this song in the lobby on more instances than one. And also because of the simple fact that you can still hear it. Yes, you've sailed away. But you're still around. And I don't know if I could think of your proximity as a gift or a curse.

But it's not so bad.
You're only the best I ever had.
You don't want me back.
You're just the best I ever had.

Sour-graping and sarcasms. I had been thinking I should have done a lot of these by now. But I elected not to. I wouldn't. I couldn't. Really, it's not that bad. Given the choice, would one prefer to live in a Matrix world, or be unplugged to face harsher realities? In a heartbeat, I'd choose the make-believe dimension, because it is in here where I could choose what to see and believe, where I could replay, over and over again, sequences that bring delight... the likes of dancing with the rain, moving with the rhythm of the wind and the leaves, and all other movie-induced choreography. In a make-believe world, such things never end.

But at the end of the day, there is always something in the truth. Something about self-respect. Something about check and balance. Something about gut check. Somewhere along the line, one would be thankful for the truth.

So you stole my world.
Now I'm just a phony.
Remembering the girl
leaves me down and lonely.

It took a while before your words sunk in my head. Gradual as your favorite sunset, I took it in with no ill will. I thought I'd be expecting the likes of a Hurricane Katrina inside my very being. But there was none. I could smile and sing my heart out as if it were everyday. But in split-second lapses, I'd find your words already deep within me... and I'd realize I had already become a walking doughnut.

Though it doesn't seem like it, it was a big deal to me afterall.

Send it in a letter
Make yourself feel better.

I live and die by my metaphors. To be direct to the point and to be open with the thoughts in my head: I find those things hard to do. Cowardice, probably. Or maybe Hakuna Matata, in that I become uncomfortable with serious topics. I'm not expressive. Once again, I don't know if I could think of my metaphors as a gift or a curse. Sometimes I stop to think if it had made any difference in the world... if I had not learned how to use metaphors.

And it may take some time
to patch me up inside...
And I can't take it so I
run away and hide...

And I may find in time that
you were always right.
You're always right.

You were right. In case my words were eaten by the waves while you were wading your feet, I told you how right you are... in saying that what I feel will not disappear in a snap. But then you added it will eventually disappear. Eventually is a tough word. You may be right; it may disappear. But I know better. The love I have. You will not see it. But if you happen to close your eyes, you'll find it. It will be there somewhere, maybe around the corners, maybe around the cobwebs... me myself, I don't know where��just somewhere.

I don't want you back.
You're just the best I ever had.

I told you of Santa Claus, and how I sincerely believed he really existed. Only to find out as I grew up that Santa would never come to my home to deliver Christmas gifts (now that I think about it, we don't have chimneys in the Philippines). I went on realistically with my life, even joining the grown-ups laugh at the idea of a Santa Claus... but deep down in my purest childhood wishes, I still believe he'd one day come.

That's how I think of us. Just like Santa Claus.

You're just the best I ever had.
The best I ever had.

In a long time, you really are.
You gave me reasons to believe in love.

Once upon a time...

10 pm. One birthday was about to end...
when a bombshell started to happen.

After some time...

10 pm. One birthday was about to start...
when fireworks fizzled out.

And they lived ever after...

Still there remains...
flickers...
flickers...
flickering...

Dati talaga, may journal ako. Simula pa yun ng high school at mahigit isandaan na ang nasulat ko dun. Kaso walang nakakabasa. Naiinis ako. Ang haggard naman kung ilalako ko yung journal para mabasa ng mga tao. Mas masaya yung natuklasan bigla, tapos magagalit ako. Pero wala talaga.

Hindi ko natiis, kaya nag-blog ako.

Ang plano ko: pagsasabayin ko ang blog at journal in one glorious tandem. Kaso hindi ko siya kinaya, kaya tumutok ako sa blog... at ito, awa ng Diyos, ay malapit na mag-10,000 hits at mag-i-isang taon na next month.

Kaso marami akong hindi magawa sa blog. Mahirap maglagay basta-basta ng kung anu-anong pangalan at kuwento. Madali kasing ma-misquote. Hindi ko kontrolado kung sino nakakabasa nito (although gusto kong maraming nakakabasa).

Gusto ko pa naman na naka-document ang mga trivial na bagay na nararanasan ko araw-araw... Kasi kapag ma-thundercats na ako... malilimutan ko ang mga detalye: exact date, chronological sequence at transcripts kung may conversations na involved.

So there. Ibabalik ko ang aking journal. Siyempre, i-gi-give ko ang best ko para di niyo makita. Pero ang purpose talaga niya... mabasa ng mga tao.

By the way,
...this blog's back. Yey!