Forget Me Not

I have been spending the past few hours sending glad tidings to people. Scrolling on past messages on FaceBook Messenger or Twitter's DM can be fun and frustrating. Fun because you get to relive old conversations with people who made you smile, and frustrating because of not so intelligent and insensitive exchanges bordering on unfriending/unfollowing.

Okay, so I just hit unfollow/unfriend...... Sue me.....

The point is, one get to have conversations with some of these people on birthdays and holidays which is not good. I mean, where's the real connection there? I understand that being polite is called for but up to what extent? Some of these people are those who I grew up with, some were even my friends, well, used to be my friends.

In reality, we keep people in our lives even though they don't really have meaning in our existence because we are afraid to be alone, we are afraid to be forgotten. We are afraid that during the final days of our lives, no one will remember us even after we are gone. We fear to be reduced to one tombstone marker, unnoticed by passersby.

But what if we get to keep only a few real friends who bring meaning to our lives, those who really know us inside out, and those who know what we feel by just a simple gaze? Would that trade off be acceptable? Would that be enough?

Alone No More - Philip George Feat. Anton Powers

Current party festive mood.

Quite ironic for a song which speaks of one's refusal to be alone.

Change is in the Air

A semblance of a fine weather is all that is left, after the rains from the typhoon have already subsided. We are merely left with strong occasional gusts of wind that to some people may be cumbersome to bear, but nostalgic for me.

Breezes like these bring me back to February 1985, where a group of young third graders in dark blue and white uniforms gathered under the camachile tree in front of the LCES Canteen. A young Stephanie Ganzon, a Lisette Lagaylay, a Luvi Tanamal, a Rocille Joy Atadora, a Donn Ramon Ligason III, a Rea Adora Jo Trino, a Analyn Trespicio, A Claudine Gargalicano, a Jiene Omar Mendoza, a Julius Junsay, a Rowena Obordo and a Ritche Baria gathered sporadically and enjoyed their recess.

It was one of those very rare occasions that probably, children at that age will never replicate, maybe, because of the inability to focus on current issues due to the onset of celphones and other electronic gadgets. As memory serves me right, these kids, barely nine, some eight years old had the audacity to speak their minds about politics. The issue at hand - Cory vs Marcos. It was merely a fifteen minute recess, but everyone had his say about the matter, and heaven forbid, each might have been a catalyst for change given the maturity and the resources. But we were eight, or nine and we couldn't do a thing about it.

As I look back on it now, while having my morning walk along Coronado, with the same breeze behind my back and comforting my face, I can imagine out potential for greatness during that time. And now that we are old enough to help make a difference, I am sure that most of us tried, except maybe for me, who at my age, have not and probably will never register as a voter. (Well perhaps, when the right candidate miraculously appears, or maybe when the PBA hosts games for teams like Rejoice vs Sunsilk, or Pantene vs Dove. I dunno....)

I had an amazing childhood surrounded by amazing classmates. And as corny as it sounds, this wind just reminded me that.

Me right now.....

Trying hard to explain to myself to stay, when the signs tell me otherwise.

The irony of it all, I try to understand bits and pieces of the puzzle, yet fate seems to take the shortcut and gives me the big picture.

And at the end of the day, I am left in that fork in the road where I am torn between having compassion and recognizing bullshit.

And here I am, at the wee hours of the morning, still up, asking myself .....WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, and WHY ARE YOU STILL DOING IT.......