As you stand by the edge where the surf washes ashore, you become hypnotized by the alluring waves that come crashing against your feet. You stand rooted in one spot, still very much focused on the songs of the sea. The ocean's arms caress you so gently and beg you to become one with the sand. You wriggle your toes and your feet sink into the warmth and grittiness of the sand's touch. The waves knock you off balance every once in a while, but you have gotten the hang of it and with every wave that comes your way, you heave your shoulders, stiffen your body and inhale deeply. You feel anchored.

     That was how I set out to feel, but this is entirely the opposite of how I am feeling this week. Of course, it might be too early to sum up my week since it is only Monday, but so much has happened in this one day that I feel hopeless, guilty even...

Promise

We never promised each other much
we were always just kind of touch and go.
as if we knew we'd know that somehow we'd grow differently
so we did and we do
and none of this is to say that it wasn't worth going through
or that i care any less about you
shoulders to lean on are hard to come by.
I know because there were times I would have broken my own neck
just so that I'd have one of my own to cry on.

And I remember when each finger was a pawn 
moving slowly across the chessboard of your body
and we made each game last.
Passed up each avenue of attack because neither one of us were trying to win
So how do we begin again when that feels like now and this feels like then?
When all I can do is tell you 
"if you've got something that needs saying, tonight I'm paying dues."
I've got a pocket full of blues and two pennies to rub together
Which means I'm wealthy enough that I can finally afford to pay attention.
I'm listening.

And I know right now I'm somehow like that kid sitting in math class, 
terribly aware of his first boner.
It's hard. 
But difficulty has never been a good enough reason to describe 
the effort it takes to make the good times and the memories worth having. 
And they were and they are and I wouldn't have come this far 
if you weren't worth the sleepless nights where abandoned appetites of a heart, now rail-thin, because of the constant hunger strikes. 
In your absence, I'm finding value, 
because what starves you carves you, 
and I'm chipping away the rough edges of a statue 
built to memorialize everything we've been through. 
And when I'm done, I'm gonna set it against 
the backdrop of the sun and stare just no matter where I go, 
it'll always be etched into the back of my mind, 
stenciled in behind whatever future I have left to find. 

Maybe we were never meant to last. 
Maybe we're only meant to reflect fondly upon a past where we cast ourselves in the lead role of a one-year sitcom. 
One that had the critics standing, while putting hand to palm, 
in an ovation we're still getting curtain calls for. 
And the stage floor was a graveyard for the 
freshly cut roses that we waded through 
to take our bows and say 
thank you. 
It was beautiful. 
And it was and it is and none of it was ever show-biz. 
But we were waiting for lights to dim on a stage where we set ourselves to music. 
As if the swelling violins could ever 
mimic the hidden moments found in the theatre 
where we kept audiences stapled to their seats. 
And they watched us, looking for vacancies they could occupy in the spaces between our heartbeats, 
as if silence was a room for rent, 
and we both went "shh." 
But the beats themselves: 
they were loud enough to drown out the applause. 
And we laughed at the ushers left looking in the aisles for the dropped jaws of patrons who still can't believe we took time to find beauty in the flaws we possess. 
That there's only something better to be found in allowing our collective damage to coalesce. 
And all we confess of ourselves forever 
is that we will make it through this. 
We're gonna make it through this, 
like a big-ass jug of cool-aid with legs and arms 
busting through a brick wall to quench the thirst of our loneliness and say "fuck yeah." 

Yes, I miss you. 
When I'm not looking, the softest parts of me 
will issue restraining orders. 
Not the kind that define borders or boundaries; 
these are the kind that will keep me in place when I ask 
"please, call me when you get there." 
Because every somewhere I go to, 
is just another place that reminds me I miss you. 

And my broken heart is where I keep the scar-tissue 
that I used to dry my eyes when a tear tries to make a break for it. 
I've built my eyelids into an Alcatraz, 
where every prisoner has a parole board meeting scheduled for yesterday. 
And they played dominoes until time comes full circle, 
like a sun rise, and today tries to set them free 
because they'll be locked up here until I let them go, 
until it's safe to let you know 
you're my best friend. 
And that some things end 
so that other things can begin. 
Sometimes an ending can be an origin.
That history is a resin that can keep 
two people stuck together, 
that change can be a tether if you let it. 

I'll always want to kiss you. 
Or touch you.
Or do that thing that drives you crazy. 
And by that, I mean you literally go crazy when I call you "cranky pants." 
Sorry, but it makes me laugh. 
And that's important to someone 
who's given more than half of their life to tragedy. 
I keep your side of the bed empty with a just-in-case mentality of
that hope's middle name is maybe and maybe you miss me too. 
One day, 
you and I are going to make it through this. 
And we'll look back 
and we'll realize 
that we have, 
and we did, 
promise.

Capabilities

Capabilities

(From Dictionary.com)

1.	the quality of being capable; capacity; ability: His capability was unquestionable.

2.	the ability to undergo or be affected by a given treatment or action: the capability of glass in resisting heat.

3.	Usually, capabilities. qualities, abilities, features, etc., that can be used or developed; potential: Though dilapidated, the house has great capabilities.

4. A talent or ability that has potential for development or use. Often used in the plural: a
student of great capabilities.
5. The capacity to be used, treated, or developed for a specific purpose: nuclear capability.







Capabilities, to me, are hidden talents that people rarely notice, until you show it off. Superman for instance, was a nobody. Until he helped save his town.




Capabilities does not necessarily mean of Heroes saving the day, or Superman's super powers, or even Spiderman's climbing ability. It can actually mean of skills like:

• Being a great leader

• Dealing with stress

• Working in fast paced environment

• Grabbing people's attention

• And even bottling up your emotions so as not to be easily emotional and affected.

Yes, these are great capabilities. But sometimes we are so driven and engrossed in showing people of our capabilities that we fail to notice that we are heading into the trap of "kay kiang", where we perform task that are way beyond our abilities and thus, mocking ourselves infront of everyone.



Thus this leads on to another point: Showing off.

It can be a good thing, because you get to impress people with your skills and abilities. You gain recognition and self esteem as you escalate on the road to success.

However, it can also be a bad thing. Like I said, upon gaining recognition, you, in fact all of us, would begin being ignorant and boastful, adding words into your own mouths. Thus, when you "kay kiang" too much, people begin to lose faith in you. And start believing that you are good for nothing, an empty vessel who boasts alot.


But this brings you back to square one. If you show off, you'll be an ass. But then again, if you don't show off, who'd notice your capabilities?




This week has left me in a rather dampen mood because of assumptions that people had of me. A close one, in fact, a kin of mine, went around rattling to others that I was a failure because I quit my job.

He assumed that the reason why I quit was because I could not handle the stress, which was indeed false. I loved the job, and the animals, but it was too mundane for me, and that was why I quit. It wasn't because I was stressed, in fact, I do love working in stressful environments as it challenges me to unleash my potential.


And he, without asking me for the reason why I quit, began lecturing my mom about how much she pampered me and that I was easily affected by stress.


It hurts sometimes to know of a kin who doesn't really spend time knowing me better, in the things I like and soar in, and the things I don't. It hurts even more when he goes around jumping at conclusions, exaggerating about stuff, and even accuse us (my borthers and I) of things.


But it hurts the most when he terms us harshly as good-for-nothings, rot-to-death and even claimed that he is worried for our future, given the fact that we "can't" cope with what the REAL world has in store for us.


I just wish sometimes, for a simple gesture of encouragement from him. But wishing for that seems to much, coming from him.




Loves.