Orbits

I was relatively happy. I'd just come from a reunion with three of my bestest friends--Maris, Bianca, and Nikka. I needed this break. We all did. We hadn't been able to see each other as much, what with them going to medschool, and me having to go to the office every single day. Day before yesterday, we met at Trinoma, ate a Japanese lunch in Oki Oki till we burst our tummies, then went to Bianca's house to get singing, guitaring, and drumming to Rockband. We were too tired to go home so we decided to just sleepover after having a pizza-dvd marathon.

When we parted ways, I felt trashed--the way I did before we met up. I was walking my usual, on my way to the GMA-Kamuning MRT station. But while walking I noticed the emptiness of my surroundings. The one or two people who passed me by might as well have been ghosts. The streets were quite empty save for a few cars and buses. Dead leaves were rolling over my feet. Empty.

Then I realized the emptiness wasn't coming from this external space, but inside me. It's that same feeling that crops up within me from time to time. I feel like I can paint/write/run...do everything I want, but at the end of all this movement and activity, there's only stagnation.

Empty. Is not the word for my surroundings. My mind was simply describing the state of my soul. And when I tried to reach down deep into this "soul," I couldn't find it either. There was only that void. I wonder if others feel this as well. Or others see this in me that's why they treat me in certain, unpleasant ways, like I'm not worth a second thought (or that's just Self-pity rearing its ugly head in my depressed state).

Why, when all is quiet and peaceful, there is not actually peace but emptiness? The vacuum of space may very well be just a reflection of our lives. We move in orbits within this nothingness of existence. Sometimes our orbits might intersect, but the time is too short to form any real ties. In the end we go our separate ways.

Is this always the case? Will God go His separate way, as well?

I wish I hadn't thought of these things. Events in the past few days may have precipitated this agitated post.

Maybe I was burned out. Maybe I wasn't sure about myself anymore. The ups and downs of my moods have always been hell to deal with. I know I will feel better again. But it comes to a point when what I feel doesn't matter anymore. I just want answers to these (seemingly) unanswerable things.

The Awakening by Kate Chopin

I've gone back to the classics recently, and found the experience very enriching, especially with Kate Chopin's short novel--The Awakening.

The book is short but the language is gorgeous. Chopin gives us a vision of the Creole society and its air of aristocratic resignation. Edna Pontellier, an American, marries Leonce Pontellier and dives into the Creole world. I began reading the book with thoughts of feminism hovering over my head. I expected outright scenes of the oppression and repression of women. However, as I progressed in my reading, such preconceptions fell away. Leonce is an adoring husband who, while watching Edna closely, lets her do as she pleases, even flirt with other men as she does in Grand Isle. Narry a word is spoken, nor signs of jealousy arise from Edna's seemingly inappropriate behavior toward other men. Yet it appears that it is exactly this silence that points to the bondage of Edna's awakening spirit to the Creole society's idiosyncratic logic and mores.

Edna appears apathetic at the beginning. Her marriage is peaceful, but it is as placid as a stagnant lake. She takes everything as they come, after all, she can pretty much do what she wants. It is when Edna goes to Grand Isle that Edna's soul is stirred from slumber. A certain duality becomes apparent--the city and nature. In the city, Edna is wrapped in an illusion of freedom, never realizing that she can only move within society's mores. However, in Grand Isle, nature takes its hold of her when she develops an infatuation toward Robert Lebrun--a passion verily absent in her manicured home life.

The sea is a recurring theme. Its inexorable flow whispers of both its sensous touch and its deathly grip. When Edna chooses the sea at the end, the act becomes the climax of her emancipation. She takes hold of her life, as only nature herself can do. The story becomes a gripping tale of how the act of dying can become one's ultimate awakening.

Art's Spirit and Permanence

I thought perhaps I'd grown tired of drawing and painting, but I guess they're just a part of me. After leaving them behind for sports, and later on writing, I've come back to their open arms. Luckily, they've readily accepted me, for they haven't left me in a stream of amnesia where I couldn't even remember how to hold a paint brush anymore.

Sure, it felt awkward at first. I felt like I was going back to an old skin that I wasn't really ready to shed yet. There were lots of reasons why I stopped, all the while calling it a "hiatus." I was just really disillusioned, and by people I expected would support my craft. I've come to realize I no longer need their approval, not when I can earn my own money now to buy the stuff I need.

Some recent stuff I made are too large to scan, but I made this one entitled "Smoke Screen" while I was brainstorming in the office. Scribbling helps me clear my head, but I didn't want to waste my time (and ink and paper) making doodles when I could make actual pieces that are at least worth looking at.

Jason (aka Song) transferred this design onto a T-shirt for Design by Humans.
Great job really, those red accents made the work real fiery, what I had intended I just didn't have red ink and my Chinese brush with me (I think that's a bit too much to lug along in the office).

Chronicles of the Hidden Thief

Silly, silly day. After a long day running around preparing my documents for employment, I got hungry. The most natural response of the body to stress. Hunger. Or simply craving.

I was looking for something good to eat, so after riding the MRT from Taft to Quezon Avenue, I went to the station mall called Centris. It's under SM, too, if I recall correctly (and I never do trust my memory). I went to the supermarket and saw a Merced Bakeshop. One thing immediately came to my mind:

Pineapple Pie

Merced, I presume, is really old since I remember my mom buying their dollop-sized egg pan de sal and chocolate beehive since I was around five. We'd dip the pan de sal in hot chocolate and be happy for the rest of the day. After a few months, though, the bakeshop started to become really rare. Now I find them only in small malls and hospital cafeterias like those in the Philippine Heart Center. I miss seeing my face smothered with their beehive's marshmallow icing!

Anyway, back to the pie, I gave the cashier lady a large bill so that I could break it into barya. I didn't want to commute without change since the Manongs almost always presume the change is their tip. However, the cashier lady said she was short on change and asked, "okay lang po ba kung kulang ng P1.50?"

Curtly, I said, "No, it's not okay."

Because it isn't! Couldn't she run to the other counters to get change? Yes, I was pretty pissed. I was hungry, okay? My mind is cloudy with vicious intent when I am. Well anyway, she didn't seem to plan on doing anything about it, so I told her to just cancel the order. Then I left.

 After a few seconds, I was back, because I left my cash! Silly me.


I decided to just go home, dejected at what happened. I took a cab, and when I was comfortably seated, I rummaged through my bag to check my wallet. And (oh, silly, silly me) guess what I found inside. See that there picture?

What the hell is that? Yes, yes, that's the pie!!
I forgot to return it! Yet I ate it, thrilled at my unintentional thievery. What an adventure.

I do plan on going back tomorrow to pay for the darned thing. I'm just having a good laugh now. I bet I can use this for a new story! 

I'm hoping I didn't put that cashier lady in trouble. O_o Ima apologize for it awright.

 photo by janujennifer