Silhouette of tombs, Murcia Cemetery
Negros Occidental, Philippines
10/20/08

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When I die, I want my friends and family to see the thin single line dashed between my birth date and the day I died. In that little line, there lies the story of my life; how I cried, laughed, fell in love, got hurt, was betrayed, won a friend, shattered a bond of trust, renewed a broken friendship...where I truly lived.

The dash in our tombstones are worth celebrating. They are worth living our lives to the fullest. Don't hold out the best in hopes of saving it for "special occasions"  for your life is the special occasion. Live it.

You ask me why I am melancholic.
It is because my Love,
paradise is not Paradise
without You.

-----

I still have the letters of yesterdays that are now seemingly remnants of a fragrant dream. They now start to stain, the edges dull and permanently creased. They look rather beautiful, actually. Every now and then, I love to trace my fingers along the thick folds of the envelope that holds the secret of a thousand dream that's died.

On some crazy rainy days, I love to spill them all in a wild array of tear soaked confetti and lavish in the secret rapture that I alone, for a time, held the  throne of your heart. And the selfish bliss that is peddled by the knowledge that you cried and bled for me, too. We were beautiful and we had gilded dreams together.

But as all forces must come into balance, our amity blinded us to the folly of love, ever thinking that it is fair. You are still a stubborn pig and I hate you for loving me less. I don't blame myself for ever thinking that what you can give me is never good enough because even during the times where you loved me the most, you never did give me the love I know I deserved.

Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to dance alone in a song that's meant for lovers? A song that's been birthed and will die a myth.

I have finally found myself in the course of chasing after the wind of the impossible you. I am glad you happened and much more so, I am glad that we're past this. I am glad that there's still and us.

Someday, I will tell my story. My story with you in it. But as well as with him. I am truly blessed. I would only be so proud to say I had two great loves in my life.

But only, you are not my destiny.

I'm bored tonight and the day's been uneventful. I am in the mood for a rant but I am taking the time to let the emotional turmoil pass to be able to think clearly and to avoid saying things I might regret.

So yeah. I got this from Jacq's myspace blog and found it rather amusing.

Go to www.urbandictionary.com and type in your answer to each question in the search box, then write the first definition it gives you.

1) What's your name?
Diana - Completely strung out on caffeine so that words are unintelligible and rodent-like, muscle spasms are frequent, and random fascinations dominate speech and action, e.g. shiny objects, scarfs, capes, and magic tricks.

"I am so tired. I need to get Diana so I can study for this exam."

2) Your age?
24 - 24, The Jack Bauer Power Hour. The most entertainment you can stuff into a single day. Full of twists, turns, violence, and Elisha Cuthbert.

"I had all kinds of work to do, but I decided to watch 24 instead."

3) One of your friends?
Sheila - Australian/Kiwi slang, for a female.

"She was a spunky sheila "

4) What should you be doing?
Nothing - Actually means "something," but is used when you don't feel like explaining.

"Hey, whatcha doin'? "

5) Favorite color?
Pink - slang reference to the vagina

"I'm gonna get me some pink"

6) Where were you born?
Philippines - The Philippines IS an ASIAN country. Most people who visit the country don't get a chance to see the beauty in it. You have to live there to actually appreciate this country. Also known to have the most beautiful beaches in the world.

"The Philippines is great "

7) Last person you talked to?
Frank - honest, blunt

"I'm not being mean, just frank. "

8) Your middle name?
Jane - Someone who is very average in appearance and everything else, even though everyone wants to be her and thinks she is gorgeous. "Plain Jane"

Everyone else: "Jane, your pictures are so pretty, you are so going to be a model. Every night I pray to God that I'll wake up and look like you."

Dan: (sigh) "That girl's smile could brighten anyone's day!"

9) Last name?
Framo - The incomparable Roddy Frame, formerly of Aztec Camera how a critically acclaimed solo artist.

Do yourself a favor check him out.
As his song suggests, Framo is The Boy Wonder.

- - - - - - - -

I'm not tagging anyone. If you feel like doing it, then by all means, go right ahead. And I expect someone who's got the wits to operate a computer and successfully manage to find this nook by surfing the web, to have at least a pebble of maturity to know that the word VAGINA is NOT dirty.

Thank you and have a great weekend.

I know the world is not perfect and as time goes by, my little bubble world of ideas become more and more narrow and contracted with real life doubts and impossibilities penetrating inside, eating away the fantasies and hopes of imperfect but beautiful and faithful relationships. I know that hoping for perfection is a foolishness that's bound to burn everything including myself but I never realized until now just how bogus almost everything else is. I never realized demanding for something real would be so hard and near impossible.

I do miss being a child. There is this absolute bliss in childhood. Such blessed innocence that is so poignant and contagious. To be always bathing in amazement at how things work and be excited at the mysteries of life. To love purely and be without malice or pretensions. To embrace hope in its truest sense and to know blind faith in sheer reliance.

I think that the times when we were kids were the times where we truly lived. But then, of course, we grew up and started dying. We became jaded and thought that cynicism is sophisticated. We started caging ourselves with inane standards that takes away the sense from living. We beat ourselves with senseless needs to become empty shells of mere existence.

I felt that I've lost a lot of important people in my life lately. Some have been separated from me by the vast gulf of death and some have chosen to be drifted away by change. Death brings along with it the sting of pain but separation by change, it leaves an altogether different kind of pain. Like a bitter taste in your mouth that you cannot get rid of. It's annoying and frustrating. With death, at least, there is a finality that we all know is irreversible and that which cannot be helped. Changes however leaves us this unsettling frustration that perhaps, just perhaps we could have done something but we weren't able to. That's why things changed. It's a lose end. And most of the times, when doubt settles and the spirit is weary, blame often drops by and points its shrewd and gnarled finger at me.

What have I done? Or perhaps, what have I not done?

Right now, I feel like time is sweeping past me in a frenzied whirlwind of change and I am lost, forgetting and forgotten.

How do you comfort someone who is going through pain you can only dare to imagine? How do you answer questions you yourself have asked for a lifetime? How do you make someone understand a logic braced by faith when logic alone doesn't make sense? How can you shelter a heart that's selflessly dying to save others from pain?

There are times when the mind and the heart goes hand in hand. But when circumstances dives to extreme and the heart drops to the abyss of grief, the mind tries to make sense of what is mad and in attempt to hold reason together, it snaps and you'd be amazed at how fast a human's defense mechanism takes over. Overnight, a new man emerges and you gasp in blatant disbelief on how both extreme personalities could possibly co-exist in one body.

I know he's still in there. Deep down, probably tired and weary, resting along with the questions that deafens and are left unanswered. I believe that with enough patience, prayers and constant love, I will get to see the blessed day he'll come back again.

When words of comfort and promises of understanding and love fall to deaf ears, what do you do? When nothing is good enough and things doesn't make sense, how will you live? When madness reigns, turning friends to enemies, sending paranoia to hunt you down, how do you go back to who you once were?

How do you forget a memory too big a milestone, it killed everything that's good? How do you start being a person after the soul's died? How do you suppose to know love after love's fled away.

What's left is a hallow and tired shell of a tragic yesterday. The broken and dry image of what once was is a bitter reflection of how dreams are when they die. Blind and senseless eyes stare back in mocking desperation. Perhaps, a remembrance of a distant longing of a distant life.

I forgot which movie it was that I watched this week but I member well what one character said.

"If it hurts, then it isn't Love."

Of all the many senseless things I've heard in my life, that was the most revolting. Love hurts. Love hurts. People bleed because of Love. People choose to die because of Love. Love, amongst all its other attributes, most certainly hurts. It can't be love if it doesn't hurt.

I simply refuse to believe that the world is overflowing with masochistic people who enjoys the bitter sting of pain just for the kicks out of it.

I know of a girl. She's very lovely and smart. She writes beautiful prose and breathes grace as she dances the world in tiptoes. I imagine her toes are as broken as the pieces that lay on the floor. With her heart as flat, like old soda, pointless, unflattering, and unrelentingly hopeful. I drank her brokenness because although we're both complete strangers, I have found kinship in her pain. But she's stopped writing, for over a year now. I would like to think that she's finally happy. That she no longer needed to bleed to write. That she no longer needed pain to sigh.

If you have read, seen and felt this emotion that binds us all lovers together, then you would know that pain is the shadow of love. To ask for love without pain would be asking to embrace a soulless devotion. A mediocre bliss and a passionless romance.

Pain doesn't defile love for the volume of pain mirrors the magnitude of love. Love cannot be defined without pain. For how can you measure happiness without a string of tears?

Even the Son of God bled and died for Love.

i am confused
emotions clouding reasons

people
they all try to change me
telling me of the things
i should
and
should not be

when i act with reason
my best isn't good enough
when i move with emotion
i'm often told
i've made the wrong decision

i've painted myself a picture
of another
i've caged myself
in
 a standard of me.
strengthened by mistaken acceptance i sought after
i long to see the day that i'll be free

in a double standard society
where everything's read between the lines
it's hard to stand erect
defend your position
when everybody's out to get you
dragging you
out to all direction.

on late
 quiet nights
when the world is spinning dead
my emotion's numb
my body tired,
with hollow aches pounding on my head
i strain to reach deep sleep
but slumber would just not come
feels like i'm fighting a winless battle
and my senses all loose and undone

i'm falling into a bottomless pit
darkness blinding me
i'm dying to see the new dawn
dying to have a real life of my own

08/14/08
03:11pm
~djf

I stumbled on an interesting plurk (yes, I use plurk you can add me if you have an account there, too! Add Dee The Llama Queen) by a friend earlier and it's somehow piqued my interest.

The question was about smoking ban and if it's fair. Needless to say, the author of the plurk thread is a smoker and to quote her, "I smoke occasionally, stress and all, but smoking in a bar is like having sex in a brothel, it what its there for..." Naturally, she got called names for that remark.

People think that banning of smoking is a violation to their personal rights but oftentimes, people always forget that their rights end where other people's rights begin. Of course it's not so easy to draw lines in air but I believe that common sense and respect/consideration for others should be enough of a guideline to know the limits.

I've always found comments like, "what you should be concerned about is improving the overall air quality" or "you get worse air driving on the freeway or mowing your lawn" to be really ignorant. The inconsiderate smokers just use that out-of-the-line excuse to justify what they want. Non-smokers should have every right to a cigarette smoke-free air irregardless of the claim that we now live in a very polluted world. If that should be how the reasoning should go, then would it be perfectly alright then for me to pee in your drinking water since we technically don't have un-polluted water?

I respect the rights of people who smoke but I also expect smokers to respect my right to clean air. Why should my lungs suffer because you made a stupid choice to kill yourself slowly? If you wanted that smoke so bad, why blow out the smoke and not just inhale everything in?

Another thing with restaurants charging a 10% fee for those who prefer to dine inside "non-smoking areas", why should the natural, free-air breathing people pay extra so the smokers can pollute the air for free? Shouldn't that be that other way around?

People are stupid. Remind me again why I should have faith in humanity?

Of dreams recurring
and longings deterred,
a helpless quiet sigh escaped
fleeting and bare.

Could it be
a paradise void of bliss?
Can a sun weave ribbons of light
barren of warmth and life?

I wonder
is it deceit?

Reckless hunger,
hateful heedless lust;
how can a passion drive dreams
to crippled senseless satisfaction?

If perfection cannot be secured,
how do we tame
unbridled hopes?
Where do we find
an enough that is enough?
Where can we nurse
a burning desire that won't ever age?

If nothing is certain,
how will my heart learn to believe?

01:25pm
05/20/08
~djf