Freedom, marry me.

My Treasure

If I were an object in the lost and found box, I would be a key. Without me, my owner would not be able to unlock his deep secrets, nor would my finder discover the hidden treasure. Many people say that I am the epitome of the mysterious. To the unknowing eye, I may seem and look like an ordinary key: easily duplicated and merely put inside the pocket along with loose change. What the ignorant does not know is that I hold stories, insights, ideas that would move people’s hearts, minds and souls.

There is no other key like me, nor is there any replica of the treasure I keep. Even at such a tender age, I have been to several places, experienced and witnessed so many things. I have spent time with the richest of the rich and with the poorest of the poor. I am not picky – I let life carry me where it wants me to be. Whatever happens, I keep my eyes wide open, grasping every experience that I encounter and making sure that I have a souvenir. Sometimes I get lost, but soon enough someone finds me and from that moment on, I have another story to unravel. My treasure is unlimited.

bear with my dilemma

the struggle to find the right words and to put them all together.

you in my dreams, again

Things simply fall

into place.

Moments are immortalized in memories.

Beneath the Hazy Cloud

Alone,

in the dark, I stand.

Above me,

thick, hazy clouds

hover the night sky,

seeming impenetrable.

Beyond what my eyes can see,

beneath the violet fog,

mesmerizing diamonds

sparkle with glee.

I stand still,

waiting, waiting and waiting;

oblivious of the horrors around me.

My ears,

deaf,

and my skin,

unable to feel,

as I kept my eyes fixed

on the violet cloud.

I do not notice

the time ticking.

For eternity, I could stay,

according to my inkling.

My body grows tired,

as my faithful heart

fervently waits

for the stars

to shine down on me

again.

October 12, 2008

Sunday

10:45pm

I'm back

i'm going to be honest --- the writer side of me is broken. i don't know exactly why, but words just don't flow as easily as it used to. much to my soul's objection, it came to a point wherein i actually felt it was useless to write. it's a struggle, yet i'm not giving up. i won't give up.

i don't claim to be particularly excellent in writing. i write because i want to touch lives, in some way. only a few days ago, my good friend reminded me of this, when i wrote a little something for him. i may not be perfect in grammar, form and whatnot, but i believe my soul's got enough passion for this endeavor, despite this battle inside me. to make someone smile or to make someone feel s/he is not alone in his/her experience in life through my works is enough reason for me to keep writing.

while i'm "recuperating" as a writer, i'll be posting some of my old works from time to time. i've been posting at different blogs; it's time to compile them all in one blog.

happy reading.

P.S. to those who've loved at least once in their lives... Happy Valentine's Day. cheers!

In dreams he sang to me. In dreams he came… that voice which calls to me and speaks my name. And do I dream again? For now I find…

The Phantom of the Opera has been playing in my head ever since I watched The Music of Andrew Lloyd Webber in the Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP) last Sunday. Before watching the concert, I was not quite sure what to expect except that I would be able to listen to songs from various musicals like Cats, Jesus Christ Superstar, Evita and The Phantom of the Opera. I was honestly a bit apprehensive, because advertisements for this concert did not really specify who was going to perform (later on I discovered that it was the stars from the Australian musical theater).

The concert was some sort of a mini-musical —- the audience got a taste of a little bit of everything from Andrew Lloyd Webber’s creations. My personal favorites were One Rock and Roll Too Many (from Starlight Express), Don’t Cry for me Argentina (from Evita), Love Never Dies (from Love Never Dies), All I Ask of You and The Phantom of the Opera (both from The Phantom of the Opera). I have watched musicals before, but this is the first time that I actually heard such perfectly clear and powerful voices. The performers did not lack talent in dancing and acting as well. The energy they gave off was flawless. When the song was lively and jolly, they would exude those emotions. When the song was sentimental or dramatic, the performers would make the audience feel just that.

To add to this, what amazed me was that there were only seven performers (four men, three ladies). The show ran for two hours, with only ten to fifteen minutes of intermission, yet the energy and the passion of the performers were consistent. Even though The Phantom of the Opera was sung at the latter part of the show, I still got goosebumps. I was seated at the far end of the auditorium, but I still felt the mood of the song. I felt it overwhelmingly, at that.

At the end of the show, not only did I applaud for the Australian musical theater, I was also able to appreciate Andrew Lloyd Webber’s works more. The Music of Andrew Lloyd Webber highlighted his creativity, versatility and greatness —- a tribute Andrew Lloyd Webber deserved.

It's all about balance

My friend, Jetro, stumbled upon this story. Happy reading! :)

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.

So the professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous “yes.” The professor then produced two cans of beer from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.

“Now,” said the professor, as the laughter subsided, “I want you to recognise that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things–your family, your children, your health, your friends, your favourite passions–things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. “The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house, your car. The sand is everything else–the small stuff.

“If you put the sand into the jar first,” he continued, “there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you. Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play with your children. Take time to get medical check-ups. Take your partner out to dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to clean the house, and fix the disposal.

“Take care of the golf balls first, the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.”

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the beer represented. The professor smiled. “I’m glad you asked. It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a couple of beers.”

Delta

A few days ago, I changed my Twitter username from wordsforthegods to tinmilitante. Today I changed my blog URL here in Blogger... from wordsforthegods to justwritetin. For quite a while wordsforthegods was the standard username I used in social networks, but even before that I used several different ones. People say I usually pick odd usernames, yet there's a story behind each of them (I won't go into specifics).

If there's one person who loves the idea of change, that's me. I change my hairstyle, my wallpaper, my nail polish, my mobile phone, my hobbies, my anything when I feel like it. Once I was too detached from the world. Recently I re-learned to commit. It is for that reason, I believe, that I am gradually settling down to (hopefully) permanent choices.

Hmmm... let's see.

(Despite saying in my previous post that I did not like writing enough, I decided to continue blogging. Right now I am still uncertain about what I want to do with my love for it. What I am sure about is that I do not want to let it go completely.)

So... I'm back

Hello there. After two months of being on a writing hiatus, I am here again. I stopped partly because I got busy running around town and abroad, but mainly because I realized I am not into writing as much as I believed I was, or perhaps, I had writer's block. Either way, I did not like it enough to continue writing. Honestly, this realization shocks me, considering that I have always claimed and believed that writing is/was my passion.

I quit the literary org I was in, not because I disliked the people there or any of that sort (in fact, they're amazing, brilliant individuals). I quit because I just felt that it wasn't for me, after all. I really wanted it to be the group I would belong to and associate myself to, but it just didn't flow that way. Something inside me tells me that I should be somewhere else. Where is that somewhere else? I'm not sure yet.

I have been discussing matters about life with my cousin, and we have come to a conclusion that the hardest thing about life is that there is no hard and fast rule; there is no standard formula we can all just follow. There are no guarantees, and there will always be risks. So how to deal? Well, I guess... we should all just keep trying. What if we fail? Then we can laugh about it in the future (by then we are wiser).

Life's Challenges

It's not about who won or who got hurt in the end. It's about finding clarity, accepting what happened and growing up.

Being committed doesn't mean having a world of your own with your partner. It means growing together to become better individuals in order to relate better with the world.

Crossing the Finish Line

I still remember it quite clearly. It was noon. The sun was scorching. In the back of my mind, I knew I wasn't ready and that I was scared, but I had to proceed, nevertheless. My body exuded otherwise; I was in my ready-to-start position.

"Ready... Set... Go!" I ran as fast as I could.

My strategy was not at all ideal. My coach always said that I should save my energy for later, yet during that time, I felt that I could maintain my speed. At times, I felt that I should slow down, but I fought hard stubbornly. I kept running. My competitors were far behind me. I was winning...

for the most part, until the last 100 meters of the final round. I ended up landing in the fourth place --- a position low enough not to get a medal.

I almost had it. Victory was only a few meters and seconds away. I had the lead, but ended up to well, nothing.

Looking back, I realized that several times in different instances I have been like this in life: giving everything to achieve something, and when I'm only a few inches away from succeeding, I hold back or give up the last minute. Perhaps I cannot be entirely ready for anything and maybe Fear will always there lingering in the shadows, but this time, I want to be courageous enough to complete well whatever it may be that I have so passionately started and to be deaf to Fear's intimidation.

Twirl around Piglet,

step lightly Pooh,

This silly ol' dance is perfect for two.

( I stumbled upon this quote while surfing the net)

It has been

exactly one year today since
we discovered that fiction could be real,

that what we read in books
and watched in movies
were not mere products of the imagination.

We found it --

what people thought never existed

or what others label as madness,

but to us, was bliss.

The old, the modern, and

whatever was in between

fell perfectly in place in here.

No rules, no status quo,

no contracts to conform to.

Here, it was just us two

marveling at what we couldn't touch

but terrifyingly wanted so much

because the words

we held back was

in the middle

of it all.

Tennis: 1-Love

Last weekend, I played tennis with my cousin. This has been my nth desperate attempt to get back to playing the game again. Years back, tennis was a huge part of my life. When I was a pre-teen, I was absolutely committed to the sport. I did not care if I had to wake up early on weekends to train, even though I wasn't really a morning person. On days when we had training, I made sure that I arrive on time. When there was heavy traffic, I prayed with all my heart and my soul that I wouldn't be late. If I had magic powers to make the car fly or to simply teleport to the tennis courts, I would (but hey, I'm only human). It did not matter to me if my toenails died ('coz the run-stop-run-stop drill the coach ordered me and my tennis friends to do), or if my right arm was slightly bigger than my left arm. All I wanted was to play tennis and to be good at it to the point of winning Wimbledon (yeah, yeah, I know. Who am I kidding? But hey, I was young and... I truly believed that a person can do anything and be anything s/he wants, as long as he puts his/her heart into it; there are no limits).

The thought of stopping tennis horrified me. I was too attached to the sport; it was something I did not ever want to let go of. To me, tennis was life and life was tennis. I would not mind playing it every single day, no matter for how many hours (in fact, my heart sank every time training ended).

But then a sudden twist of fate happened which caused me to stop playing tennis. Needless to say, my heart broke to a million pieces. I was shattered. Tennis was one of the few things that I was sure of. Back then, at least I knew I was pretty good at it. It actually felt like it was the only thing I excelled in. The Gatorade bottles I've earned (it served as trophies in our tournaments) somehow showed that. It was through tennis that I gained self-confidence.

In that same sport, I learned that:

- girls can beat boys (who said boys always win against girls?)

- skill is not enough. You have to believe in yourself in order to win the game.

- being good at something is a step by step process.

- it's okay if you aren't that good at the start; it can be improved. it's part of learning.

- even if you are tired, DON'T think you are tired. Keep moving. Never lose focus.

- you can use the opponent's strength to get back at them (and with the right strategy, beat them)

- you should always be alert and ready.

- you should not panic. Stay calm and collected; time will move slower than you think (therefore, you get to have more control on what's happening even in such a short span of time).

- your greatest enemy is yourself.

But with tennis gone, what was I? Along with the sport, my self-confidence went down the drain. I mourned for tennis like I had lost a special someone, a loved one. I felt incomplete and afloat. In the darkest corners of my heart, I curled up, bruised and wounded.

For a year or two, I completely stopped playing the sport. There were times when my dad casually asked me to play again, but I deliberately declined. Just like breaking up with someone, I needed space in order to move on. In my mind, I thought, "I'm too old anyway, to train for the National Team or to become a pro." (I had that attitude... I wanted it all, if not, then nothing.)

However, like an ex-lover trying to give romance a second chance (isn't love sweeter the second time around?), I did give tennis a shot once in a while. Yet it always hurt me. It was always so difficult to play in the court again, and to actually witness how rusty and sucky I have become, compared to my old tennis player self. I know it is only normal to lose touch at something, especially after years of not practicing it. But still.

There's this part of me that hates myself for it. I can't help but feel like a singer who has permanently lost her voice, or like a prima ballerina who had a stroke and has consequently been paralyzed because of it. Looking back, perhaps I should have and could have done something about tennis. Maybe I should have fought harder for it, rather than moping around in my bedroom like a damsel in distress waiting to get rescued. I could scold myself for being too weak, but what would that do? Deep inside I know that I've acted as such because that was what I thought the best thing was to do back then. Perhaps I did make a mistake on being passive about quitting the sport, but... well, I tried. I tried to face the situation the best way I could.

Your greatest enemy is yourself. Last weekend, I played tennis with my cousin. This has been my nth desperate attempt to get back to playing the game again. At the start, the score was 1-0 (or as the umpire would say it, "one-love"), in favor of my cousin. I gulped hard and fought back the tears that was irrationally welling up in my eyes. Your greatest enemy is yourself. I witnessed myself screw up several times, and millions of times, I was on the edge of getting furious with myself for messing up. Sigh, I am back to love (zero).

Your greatest enemy is yourself. Accepting that reality and fighting my wrathful tendency, I forgave myself for my faults. When I did get to hit the ball at the sweet spot, I gave myself a pat on the back and told myself, "Alright, Tin, you can do this. You got this."

Hmm, going back to love isn't so bad after all...

For the love of belly dancing

I've been devoting my entire weekends preparing for this one. 6 more days to go! I hope to see y'all there. :)

Much love,

Tin

P.S. We're pre-selling tickets... You can contact me through Facebook, Twitter, email or SMS.

Enchanted Farm

Welcome to Enchanted Farm. This is where hope is planted and dreams bear fruit.

Teacher Brenda devotes her time educating the children in the community.

Soon enough, this makeshift basketball court will be turned into a real sports complex, thanks to Meralco and Toby Sports.

Bayan-Anihan area, sponsored by Selecta - where families of the community can plant crops for them to sell and/or to eat. They can exchange with other families in the area.

Say hi to the little piglets! :) This pig pen is special --- it doesn't smell awful at all. That's because they use organic feeds (hence, pig poop doesn't smell).

Meet Cappuccino, one of the baby goats in the farm. When she grows older, she will produce goat's milk and goat cheese, just like her momma.

At present, Enchanted Farm is only seven months old, but Gawad Kalinga is working towards the goal to make this 14-hectar land:

1) a Village University,

2) a Filipino Silicon Valley, and

3) a Filipino Disneyland for social tourism.

The Enchanted Farm is located in Barangay Encanto, Angat, Bulacan. Compassionate people are needed. Want to help out? Call or text 0916-499-0699, look for Matt.