Tangles I Love

I miss my dry hair..

I miss it despite the fact that it looks so dry, feels so dry but still smells great. I miss the times I go to work with my hair still wet, my locks so disoriented that I'd give up on them after 3-4 hours and just tie them carelessly with whatever I see (paper clips, rubber bands, chopsticks, and yes..a pen). It may seem unnoticed, but I knew exactly that if my hair had a voice, it wouldn't really make me sleep or perhaps, it would definitely force me to shave it entirely just to shut it up.

I miss my dry hair...

I miss the fact it reminded me of how laid-back I was..of how I was seemingly nonchalant but so active in reality. I miss archery moments, when scars caused by the string hitting my arm guard, would mean both strength and tears. I miss taekwondo classes that made me so notorious because I usually forget my stance but had the perfect kick. I miss modern jazz class when our dance instructor would motion me to lower my shoulders as I look like an ugly duckling rather than a swan. I miss churches on Sundays that made me chat with a lot of people my age and talk secretly with the closest ones about the night before it. I miss volleyball back in highschool. I miss running around the oval of an international school, catching my breath and barely making it to the finish line just to feel frustrated that I ended up 2nd place for being impatient.

I miss my dry hair...

I miss the waves that reminded me how stupid I look with such short hair, only after a day in the salon. I miss pink hair clips that made me look uncertain with a tee and a pair of cargo pants. I miss my rubber shoes that made me sprint and made boys jealous of the new pairs I have. I miss moments not having to care about how I look coz being one of the boys was a great deal already. I miss wearing skirts and dresses only to carry the snare of our drums, or the clappers or even the BASE!!! I miss the old guitar at home that gave me callus whenever I try a "fret." That big guitar was such an old school when my Tito Ed used to teach me how to strum my way to the beat of "American Pie," "As Long as it Matters," and a whole bunch of the Eagles memoir. Then my cousin would teach me E-heads and Rivermaya, plus Francis M's kaleidoscope world. My hair would drop dead against the strings as I try to examine my hands and move around the guitar tab. Instantly, I would sweep the hair so I can glance at my songbook.

I miss my dry hair...

That was a few times straight and manageable (meaning, the treatments were still working). I miss drying it in front of a fan or just drying it from within the jeepney's. I miss out of town moments when it spelled "beach" or mountains with trails of fog walking past a windy day. My hair would look so damp that the next day would be a disaster.

I miss my dry hair..

When it makes me wear a cap to head on to the grocery store. I miss the chat sessions with a friend or my mom as we scan through the items, the former with calculators, the latter with just a list. I miss tying a knot out of it or simply using a clamp to gather them fast, signifying, the inner vixen of a cook has awaken inside me. I miss the aprons that my mom would tell me to wear just to remind me she's washing my clothes so I have to be careful in the kitchen. Knives were not the real enemies, stains were. Rarely, the hair net would come in handy.

I miss my dry hair...

I miss the times being a homebuddy was such a lousy idea, but a fortunate experience. I miss days and months of internet at home, not wanting to buy food from the store just a few steps away as it may mean 2 things: I have to shower first to smell good beside a boy trying to buy bubble gum while handing over his dime. or I have to wash my face at least and comb my hair a little just to look fresh.

I miss my dry hair...

It wasn't that healthy but a little cooperative I should say...mousse would make it perfect for a date or an urgent up-do mood. I miss the time, it would stay sweet-smelling, just right for those moments I liked to kiss the man I used to love as he lie sleeping, unaware that I've already arrived. I miss movie watching with the guy I can lean my head on, so he could smell my hair, kiss my head and hold my hand, all at the same time. I miss eating dinner or having lunch outside a restaurant, where people pass and look at my direction, having to notice that I'm wiping a guy's lips coz the rice just couldn't make it through his mouth. I would often smile and glance at his eyes only to touch his face once again with my hands, hoping he gets the message that I like him a lot. I like hugs in the evening as my hair would usually cover the sadness in my face, bidding farewell and wishing that night would never end.

I miss my dry hair.

Of Love's Labyrinth--Prologue

The first day of that month was the entrance to an unwinding road for Dorothy,
As she lays her head beside Toto on the sun-stricken smell of hay as February came to rest.
Speaking as usual in a nonchalant manner of visions somewhere over the rainbow,
Never did she imagine that the first step was towards the Land of Oz.
Her first desire was to have the wisdom to overcome her inferiority complex that kept her thinking over the years, why she was never too good for anyone.
Compromising spirits often told her of the power of the Intellect to achieve self-actualization.
To have that enormous gift, she must let her heart be tested for any complications that virtually affect her emotions presently geared toward resentment and hate.
Her only chance to take was either to live through the pain, or rebirth.
The latter is literal, I shall warn you.
Dorothy has to surpass trials beyond her understanding and see if courage is the answer to moving on.
At the brink of desperation she met the one that seems evil lurking in the shadows of his own past who never thought he could go back but has always been looking behind.
At the crossroad of their own confusion, Dorothy and the witch discover
That change is inevitable but is never passive,
That opportunities are created but one should never close one's eyes to ask for more unless he/she can create another,
That the path is never perfect but it should not justify the mediocrity one is trying to avoid but which others are trying to accept,
That age can never be linked to greatness,
That no wizard can ever grant the wish of love to those who have come to realize it beforehand,
That all in the same, identities can be uncertain.

And that is how the story begins on the first day of this month,
When love was just celebrated yesterday, and the grass begins to wither if not for the drop of water, trickling down the gutter of the barn.

Alas, it is time for Dorothy to rest.

Behind Nostalgic places

Searching from one web page over another, relaxing my fingers that seem struggled on what to add, and perhaps alleviating the burst of emotions that has suddenly inspired me to write once again, I suddenly felt anxious. The first and last post of last year : April 2007 and then I whispered to my self, "I got busy, I lost track.."

The 1st quarter of year 2007 was the last few moments before I bid farewell to my hometown. Back then I hated everything. I could hardly be optimistic about the place, some people, and myself. There was never a time I hadn't wished to be different...that I wanted reality to be surreal instead. I was pretending that everything was fine but could never show any intentions of being there and reaching out. I felt my life being kept in a box and sealed away. Grabbing a chance of escapade, I fled and walked away without remorse.

I was so away. I made up my mind not to disclose as much information and if stealth could get even more minimalist than being silent, I was willing to move further. I had kept this idea that when I return, I'd be SOMEBODY, not a NOBODY. I wanted everyone to acknowledge me, believe in me and forget me in one way or another. I wanted to change my name as if something that literal would define me in a new way.. just the way I wanted.

I always criticize online networks for being discriminating and that most people are absurdly pretentious about their status, their success, the number of friends linked to them. I still stand for my opinion on this. Funny thing though, I have decided to gradually search for my friends and significant others who I have to confront to overcome my regret.

I realized that I was isolating myself for a long time and that I fear the embarrassment that shall lurk my soul and diminish my sanity to accept the past and move on. I fear that people would reject me and mock me for events only my youthful memories could remember. I fear losing people time and time again that I felt the need to be alone. Justification was my best friend and hatred grew past my hopes of proving myself. I tried best as I could to live up to it. And yet now, there's just one thing to say....

It's never been easy.

ROAD LESS TRAVELED
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth
Then took the other as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet, knowing how way leads onto way
I doubted if I should ever come back
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence
Two roads diverged in a wood
And I took the one less traveled by
And that has made all the difference
-Robert Frost-

"That has made all the difference....," I keep telling myself until now.