The Chance To Dance Along The Light Of Day

Part I: In The Tavern

And there we were, in our favorite haunt, where we were on first-name basis with the waiters. Who knew catered us because they knew us too well. And perhaps because we tipped well. She had just come back from her sojourn to an island. Her arms and face were tanned, her skin aglow. Her hair was in a constant battle with the wind, a fight that it was losing. A friend she bought along suddenly asked me while stirring her strawberry smoothie.

"I always wonder why people drink alcohol, I mean, what does it taste like?"

she should have warned me, we were in the presence of a beginner. She laughed, an abrupt sound, characterized by a crinkling in her eyes, but her mouth, as usual was expressionless. I could almost feel the quick gathering of thoughts. I inched closer to listen.

"It depends. To some, alcohol tastes of regret and sin. It has the aftertaste of a hundred walks of shame along broken beer bottles accompanied with a hazy memory of a night of reckless debauchery."

The brainless beauty sat, silent, with mouth agape. Then she continued.

"And to some, it tastes of escape and frustration, it swills in your mouth like loss and then bursts of freedom and a welcome lightheadedness. But to a lucky few, it has the sweetest taste of fun and triumph and jubilation. Of priceless bonding with the choicest of friends. So it is a choice, and it depends. Which one are you?"

I answered in behalf of the uncomprehending one.

"I dont know. I really dont know."

She smiled again, soundless, but eyes brimming with understanding. And she answered, kindly.

"And that is the epitaph of our short youth."

Even Seasons Have Changed, Just Burn Those New Leaves Over

I thought you understood.

There will never be a backing-out. No guard down.

Because I will always have something to prove. A moment of weakness cannot come to pass. These little victories are important to me, because I was robbed of a major convenience.

Emotional backlash, trivial hurts, these do not matter. I know you mean well, and have the best of intentions, but I need this. I dont want to resent you for this. I thought I didnt have to explain anything. But apparently I do.

I always do.

I just thought, that's all. Because you always said you did.

Between my pride and my promise.

Feeling, Savoring This Heart That's Healed

He says I have a split personality. I say he's right. As I switch between cities, some things I leave behind and some things I acquire. Just as well, I told him, because the Davao me could never survive in Dumaguete, and vice versa.

But he says he doesnt like the Davao me so much. But I miss her.

More specifically, I miss her routine, and her truant behavior.

Would it be wrong of me to say so?

What common denominator these two personalities have are insignificant in manner of a tree in a forest. But would the forest exist if it wasnt for the tree? I really dont know what I'm complaining about.

Actually, I do know. I'm effing uncomfortable.

Life in Dumaguete is hard. Sure, I love the city but convenience wise, I'd prefer Davao. I miss the small stuff, like transportation, like the ease of asking for cash, the fast internet, all the TV shows I download, Plurk, Ragnarok, the Espadas, and what have you. I miss the small stuff, but I miss it a lot.

I want to go back soon but by saying that it would mean that this has to end.

---

W: Unsay cool na course?
N: Bachelor of Science In Self Medication

*laughter*

Sleepwalker And Whispering Fingertips

I woke up today in a totally new mood. The feeling-sorry-for-myself-boo-hoo stage is officially in the proverbial Recycle Bin and cursor is hovering on Empty.

Oh yes I know about File Recovery. Screw you. /nerd

I might as well jump on the bandwagon, off to the land of the Lark-Happy and Guiless, and finally get out of the slums of Morose and Melancholy.

Right, no longer shall this blog focus on sunsets in the city of falling leaves. Meh. Its been a long time coming and I'm moooving. Finally. I'm thinking of even deleting my old online meditations about my usual crap, or worse, making a new blog. But lets not overdo it. Yet.

I will carry on, making light of swine flu for a witty retort over some girl, and score a few laughs in the process. Yes, I will be mean, and I shall abuse it. Save me your lectures about propriety, I will get carried away, and I intend to enjoy summer. Fully.

---

I totally miss geektastic debates about comics, and either bashing or praising Apple. I dont have that right now. I miss the thrill of finding a great song by some unknown indie band. I miss challenges in general.

So now you groan, "I thought this blog was supposed to be a happy entry...".

For the best and worst of it, I am happy. And I'm taking it because I deserve it.

Accepting green comments, now.