After 44 blog posts and 100 photo posts since opening up in September 2009, I am now going to run my blog (including the blushama web site) through a redesign. Total overhaul is the phrase. So for the meantime, you are given permission to check out other photographers and lay off my site for a while.
Will be back soon. I hope. See you later! :D Read more »
She was my first airplane flight,
And first one out to Manila.
This ride home could be the last one
I'll be taking coming from there.
I read this on the phone as I boarded the plane.
I am her first one true love, she said.
How could I not jerk a tear reading that?
Even from a text message?
Even in a plane full of people.
Even at miles in mid-air minutes later.
The silly mouth-open dorky sleeping position
Of this man sitting near by is my only comic relief
As I write one final goodbye to what was us.
To four years.
To tens of bottles of beer.
To thousands of beautiful photos.
To a near hundred thousand messages,
If my calculations are right.
But I'll never have an equation to count
How many pieces our hearts smashed into.
Yes, I broke hers and my own.
That's what happens when you drop a heart
With your own falling right behind it.
Sometimes, you forget that you both had your
Little red pumpers tied tighly together.
Have you ever held someone as they cried?
Have you ever felt like crap for drawing tears
Out of the most beautiful of eyes?
Have you ever felt so guilty for breaking
A heart that felt nothing but love for you?
I have. You should not try it at home.
Nor anywhere. Nor anytime.
The distance plays in my favor this time.
At least I won't be reminded of how much
I used to love this lady if I bump into her.
Zero to slim chance of that happening at random.
I am usually in pain of loneliness when I fly home
Because it's sad to be apart most of the time.
But at this moment, this trip back feels like I crashed.
Several times. A crash for every trip I took to see her.
And for every flight I could have taken for her.
Yes. It hurts that much. Even for me.
I sort of regret giving in to her request to see her.
I could have avoided this hurt.
But I guess -- no, I know -- I deserve it.
May her next true love never put her through this.
And when she's ready, I'll be waiting for her to forgive me.
But not to forget. Because I know, I never will.
Plane's on a descent now.
And I rammed mine right into a wall.
If only our landing was smoother.
If only servicing emotions could only take minutes.
If only it was easy for both of us to fly again.
This plane won't be taking to the clouds.
Not for a long while.
Back to the hangar for major repairs.
To be taken apart, cleaned up
And put back together.
In time, she'll be back in the sky.
Like brand spanking new.
Soaring high. Free. And loved.
Written March 20, 2011. Most of it was written in mid-air on a flight back to Cebu after breaking up with Amanda in person. This is the last poem for "Romancing Amanda". This is goodbye. This is hurt. This was love.
It's kind of tiring to have to visit the site itself to make a post so I'm trying a cross-platform Chrome-based app that can post to my Drupal-based blog through Drupal's Blog API. Hopefully, this post gets through. :)
Obviously, the test is successful since I got this on. I'm kind of having a hard time determining how to set which content type to post though. I have photo and blog post enabled in Drupal's Blog API but I can only post a photo type from ScribeFire. Hmmm.
In honor of the Aspin, the Filipino dog…
Companion, playmate, protector, friend
Without words, beyond words…
Living in his homeland, yet often homeless.
Seen everywhere, yet overlooked,
Voiceless and invisible.
The Aspin dreams of the day he will find a safe, loving home.
He looks up to a human, and hopes for humanity.
Will they see him and speak for him?
To all who give voice to the Aspin,
Who have called his name and welcomed him into their family,
Share in this quiet tribute.
Saw this sculpture in the Eastwood Mall grounds where dogs are free to roam. At the bottom of the sculpture, this poem was inscribed on a gold plate. This poem turned my view for the Aspin around. And amidst all the Huskies, Labradors, and other foreign dogs, I have started to grow fonder of the Aspin. I envision that one day, the line "Living in his homeland, yet often homeless" will no longer be true.
All dog lovers out there, especially those who own Aspins, share in this quiet tribute.
This Is Not Manila.
When you enter Eastwood, it doesn't feel like Manila at all. It feels like you're in the movies. Or you're in a dream, in a Gossip Girl setup. Haha. Reminds me a lot of Union Square, San Francisco. Everything looks so high end. Including the expenses. High. Way high.
But right when you exit the gate, it's the old, polluted, traffic-y, cheap-looking Manila. It's like waking up from a really nice dream on a Monday morning to go to work. Oh, right. I'm going to work tomorrow. Hay.
October 25, 2010. When I got to my cube, the phone LED was red. Voice message? From who? Checked the number and it was probably from a bank again. If the number starts with 412, it's automatically ignored. Anyway, I listened to the voice message and this girl was hilarious. She panicked after listening to my recording. Was my recording that hard to understand? Who knows. I don't call myself. She tried to compose a message but I had her at Hello. LOL. Read more »
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