Cold Christmas

This year, James tries to complete the Misa de Gallo. Howbeit his faith has somehow been effect generated, that would be something to digress.

Why can't he seem to find happiness in the season? Yes, things are on great shape at the college. James joined a couple of organizations in Ateneo just to busy himself with charity work. Even his social life is past ordeal, of squeaking spiders in a white room. But hey, something is missing.

He needs a boyfriend. Or, better than this statement is, he wants someone back. No matter how the odds of them being together resounds, he'd still like to wish for that thing. A lot of people want to take that boyfriend spot, yet no one seems to fill his personal qualifications for the post. He can only think of one person.

Nine mornings.

Should it happen. Should THAT moment happen.
James would be very, very happy.

On Moving On

James' last semester gave out much of his weakness: falling in love and being a fool over it. No, no Joe to be blamed on, James reckons that it was all his fault that he didn't verbalize everything that he had in mind. He left a few spots for the self-pity cancers to abound, which should have not been the case.

James was never deeply in love in his whole life. Whatever happened to him and to his last partner, he all accounts to their magnitude of similarities. He never met a person so internally diverse yet when they were together, is like a twin brother. The probabilities of getting to know such a person seem like one in seven billion: it is almost a chance that one's DNA is replicated without aversions, if that is even possible.

Last semester was James' worst academically speaking. Though he didn't fail a subject, every grade which came out had to be like watching a suspense-thriller flick where the killer was somewhere overlooking his every action. His mom was not particularly satisfied with it. All he knows is that he has to implore adjustments to provide a room for improvement. If improvement can be expected.

Joe may have already told stories in his blog on how James has still not moved on yet, and how this blog post will affirm of such a possibility: yes, it is true. Moving on is a remote idea which needs proper rehabilitation to be achieved. Just exactly like an investment where one expects half-bankruptcy by the end of the month. While there is a little time left before three months of them not being together as a couple expires, expectations on a renewed relationship (be it platonic or friendly) stands.

He thought that having a move on cut will work. For the benefit of other people, no, it did not. Moving on is more of a self-containing entity than circumstance-reliant, which, on a layman expression, is independent of haircut and/or sporting a new hobby/boyfirend.

He may have drowned on his computer games all day but at the end of it, just before his sleep, punctuate it with thoughts of his ex. It is not rewarding for the brain. It is stressful. He had to bear that for months.

Thinking about it sucks.

There is nothing to be perused in this introspection. This exists to grace the epitaph of an ember rather than enumerate the misgivings of James' soul and spirit into thinking that things can be modified for his own. For the battle has long been won over and he celebrates his loss in as much as he celebrates his victory. No man is an island, and to that, we should drink to Pangaea once again. Cheers.

The least that could make him happy in this setup is the fact that he is assured of the other party's happiness. No hard feelings, rejections come around in places. He must be moving on, too, soon.

More Vanilla

Vanilla is thirteen years old.

They were to part ways. Vanilla thanked him for the kind gesture of accompanying her to their home, but before taking the small cobbled path, she gave him a small kiss in the cheek. She then gave him 'beautiful eyes' by acting to close the eyes to a slit and beaming, and walked away.

James was dissolved in oblivion. He couldn't believe that he could fall in love with the little girl. He swayed, slithered his way back to the coliseum where an acquaintance was waiting for him.

The acquaintance asked about the sudden disappearance.

Long story, James had in mind, but did not verbalize it. Dinner, he said instead.

James' dilemma wasn't a secret at all: the food. For the first night, they had to pay hospitalities to their hosts by joining their kosher preparation. Jewish servings were not that much, they only have enough for what the body can digest in ten hours. Gluttony is a sin.

The taste was unbelievably subtle. They had the least salt, and there was a tangy aftertaste to the lamb steak, which was due to the lack of pepper or any other condiment apart from salt (Or could also be the presence of an unknown substance). The bread had an ancient feel on it, the type that the apostles once dined. It was unleavened and a small tearing from a bigger portion is satisfying. The meal was filling, nonetheless.

He had a small talk with other participants. The day was a little short if he was asked, for he had a lot of things in mind. He took a lot of photographs, too, and saved it for the other blog.

Went to bed with a smile on his face. Everything that happened on the first day in Haifa was overwhelming and lesson-filled. He sent Joe an e-mail retelling the experiences and slept immediately after. Five more days will surely be of more fun and erudition.

Vanilla

It is four past noon and the sun, much like in the hometown, is nearing to set with a darker shade of yellow. The temperature is the same: It almost felt like he never left. Filipinos are everywhere, that is a conclusion that cannot be contested.

While treading the orange bricks, James saw her. She is the most beautiful girl that he has ever seen.

The girl, who apparently, was hurt and was holding on at the outside pillars for support, is a Jew. James asked her what was wrong, and she pointed at her sandals. Departing from the obvious, he snatched for detail. There was blood on her left pinky-toe. James pulled out his handkerchief, pegging a bleed-stopper knot that he knew since he became a Boy Scout.

She is Vanilla. James had unfathomable notions about her name. The girl said she had to go back home. James offered his hands so that Vanilla could walk, then he could accompany her to their humble abode.

Her hands are very delicate, it had a scant trace of ivory and a lingering softness which was worth the touch. She had small fingers, weakened by the loss of blood in her system. She was still shaking as he was lifting her from a lower position.

They held hands until they were more than a kilometer away from the coliseum. They walked some more, talked, and laughed at whatever funny things they had in mind. Vanilla is not only beautiful, but also, very charming, and very kind. He now, would never doubt why J-s-s had the heart for the children, especially from his own kind. Jews are very passive, good natured fellows. Vanilla satisfied his quest for knowledge by giving him the first hand teacher, experience.

James longed to stay at her side but it cant be...


to be concluded.

Infidelity

If women have 'gut feel', then men work with evidences in homosexual relationships.

The only thing that I require on a relationship is the partner's word. Trust is vital for the connection to survive, sustain. Pretense tells us to be otherwise swept by our inaccuracies and biases. I am always fair in these few situations.

For a guy to feel something eerie in this kind of relationship, it must be true. I have proven this much with my past two boyfriends. I was left hanging.

Honestly, right now I don't think that things will ever be the same. You fool me once and you're off, but my maturity dictates me to look at the situation and try to roster reasons on why I should hold on. Hold on...?

I am holding on.

Now, I can only ask, what is wrong with me? People say I am boring, too predictable. Well, does that guy have the 'kick'? I don't think either. Is he good looking? Tell me. What have I done to deserve your infidelity? Maybe, I was right, I should have placed a guard on myself should things start to backfire. Now, I think I'm suffering from much of my dependencies. Things are falling off in front of my eyes but I can't save it fast. I didn't even have time to cry.

I am very, very, very afraid of losing you. Please, don't leave. I'm begging you.

Birthday S*x

Not about anything obscene: This is the song by Jeremiah. I learned this song from my prince [oops, connotations off] because he kept on coining the phrase which intrigued me. A lot. I searched and whoop, I found it irrelevant to a birthday whatsoever. How do these songs get away?

Turning twenty-one is another transition which happens to me today. I read somewhere that, when a man reaches 21, he insinuates his maturity. Also, twenty-one is another age which signifies changes. Referencing what I've learned from a Jew acquaintance, every seven years of birthday represents something in the internal balance. Oh, talk about Zen and stuff on a Jewish belief? Yes, they do have numerology. Back to sevens -- seven, fourteen, twenty-one -- these are but significant ages to a person's life. People either get cranky or control freaks or simply weird, based on how my new friend told me.

Conclusion as to which change takes toll is my becoming less of a talker, more of a listener. To admit, on an assessment of myself two-three years ago, I'm more of a dictator than a follower. I define my inability to be taken over as an immaturity. However, several people say that it is my strength, too, taking charge. On which account, I digress. I might give contextual clues however, in the days to come.

I re-structured these lines (from his prayer-like posts) because I don't know how to talk to Him in the manner he does it, as an escape clause.

I thank Him for twenty-one blessing-filled years. I thank Him for letting sunshines break through my eyelids on early mornings. I thank Him for the wisdom which he imparted on my neurons. I thank him for the colleagues who had not been impartial on my weaknesses, who showed me the true meaning of friendship. I thank Him for the parents that I have, parents who are rich enough to send me to a good school, to give me everything that I desired.

I thank Him for giving me someone: who makes me happy right now; who pacifies me in my who-messed-with-my-sleep? moments; who puts a smile on my face when things get screwed up; who appreciates my Physics raves; and, who takes care and thinks of me for more than a month now. I will never, ever have so much shower of good things from You, than I could've ever hoped for. I am deeply gratified. Thank You.

It All Ends

He was supposed to avoid EDSA because he knew of the Saturday traffic volume. He was not aware of a sale in SM North at the time. He was afraid of making his honey wait, for it was their first movie date. He cursed the road. Good thing he reached the Ayala mall just in the nick of time.

Harry Potter is their common interest. No, they didn't like the actor, (looks old for the age) but the story. Potter fad fueled their late night conversations until they were no longer twain but one. They settled for a weekend engagement for it was most convenient.

He was like a kid, Joe was, and that was what he wanted about him. Joe displaced whenever there were thrilling acts or schtick. He reached out a hand when Voldemort shattered in pieces, said that he got a Horcrux in his pocket. James laughed.

He wanted to feel his companion by twining arms. He missed him for they rarely meet due to school. James always wanted to be with his only one. Pain lunges his heart when they are far afield. Their connection, to him, resembled the Twin Cores, minus the part where only one must live.

He always wanted to snuggle him. Public place was not the correct setup. The car was the only private venue derivable. He schemed and the only question was, can he pull it off?

Joe told him where to be dropped by, a few blocks away. The location was outright on his target: A bushy plant, shadows from houses, more trees and no trekking residents. He passionately lit up a smack which lingered to a sensual exchange of  libidinous saliva and body heat. They knew when it was to be stopped. They hugged, and sufficed with it at the time being. They could only be so in love.

Alas.


Mischief Managed.

Kosher Dinner, Anyone?

WikiMania 2011 in Haifa, Israel is supposed to be my first out-of-the-country travel. With school raging like lava from an active volcano, it swept away my hopes for this journey. I also have less money to spend for registration, accommodation and flights, this since my dad already sent green moolah for our tuition fees, without any left for my trip as a treat for my birthday.

What gathered my interest in this summit is Israel and its culture, history. It is with no question that J-s-s was born in Jerusalem and that many other Biblical events took place in this country. A rich repository of stories in this place is enough to awaken a cunning spirit.

Prior to passport processing, I researched a few facts about Israel as a part of my plan to be at least become no stranger.

Philippines is one of the select nations in Asia which could send off visitors to the Holy Land without visa. This was and is due to the existence of a huge Christian following in our country.

The Jews (an ethnoreligious group) comprises most of Israel. Contrary to popular belief, an Israelite may not be a Jew but a Jew is an Israelite. Jewish beliefs are commonly ruled in Israel and there are several laws in the Torah that has been adopted by the country. [Personally, I am still confused between the difference of a Jew from an Israelite from a Hebrew from a Palestine in terms of nationality, and it is a very interesting topic.]

Jewish food and its preparation is observed with a methodology called kosher. Kosher involves several laws in the Torah, which are also Biblical. They have a special way of slaughtering mammals and birds that are allowed to be eaten. They also forbid the consumption of dairy products together with meat or fruits/vegetables or in any combination should those be served together. There are strict rules like draining all blood from the meat and checking if there are bugs in the fruits/vegetables. [As I was thinking of eating in Haifa with all meals served kosher, I had the presumption that I'm on a very regulated and strict diet bordering on fasting.]

The food is what still remains on my mind, so I ask in the title of this post. If you need more enlightenment on these rules, read this. I was just really concerned with food as it is a primal need and its unavailability for variety concerned my unregulated diet. What if I was not accustomed to the taste? Would I have to endure? Questions which must be answered if I find a kosher-style restaurant in the area. I am still expecting that something will happen for me to be allowed to go there.

Les Paul Google Logo

There are a lot of information in the internet about the famous American country guitarist. If you want to be enlightened, click here.

I'm posting this because I was amazed by the guitar logo. If you try to play with it, you would notice that the strings are placed in no particular order, eg. do-re-mi. While trying to decode this cool thing and pressing on any of the strings, I found out a way to get a better tune.

Just press on the keyboard-like logo. It will turn RED.

Then, if it does, the keys to do-re-mi- are the second row of the qwerty keyboard, which are A-S-D-F-G-H-J-K-L-;. Cool, eh?

The best that I could make of this logo is the Do Re Mi song, just because this guitar has no sharps and flats. I would have been more generous for the notes but there are also a lot around the internet so I'd rather you check them.

By the way, be observation, the most number of simultaneous presses that you can make is Five. I wonder if it has something to do with the connectivity, that we have the guts to call this internet connection. Poor.

A Trip to Memory Lane

The clouds are foreboding. The windswept alleys are deserted. Dried leaves suspended in thin twigs remain threatened by the gust. A certain chill revolved in circles of dust. The lights of nearby houses flickered in an answer to the early darkness.

He was wearing his usual white shirt and wornout jeans. James thought that a walk in the dismal weather will not add to his already awful composure. After several failed attempts of lighting his freedom stick, he finally gave it up as a bad job. Treading the long alley on a windy and tumult weather was, he realized, not the best idea of a diversion.

In five, a huge rain droplet hit his forehead. It cannot be denied that the setting will yeild to a long and heavy downpour.

The surplus of dilapidated structures in their locale provided his temporary shack. His annoyance to the incidents prior was obliterated by the need to get back home. Seeing that he has no alternatives, he resolved to wait for the rain to arrive at an indefinite hiatus.

Apart from the sound of water reaching the open surfaces around, there was a unique silence. With that, he felt that his senses were magnified; He had an odd vibe that someone was watching him intently, scrutinizing his details as if it was beside him...

A brawny cat sprawled on the unpaned windows which intensified his feelings. The sound of its brisk movement made his heart skip a beat. It was a daunting split-second: He was not braced for it.

The blackness in his temporary shed appeared to have tripled in deepness. The cold, the jets of spills, the ramblings of the furry animal somewhere near -- all of these contributed to an ominous and fearful atmosphere. He started getting unnatural spine currents in his solitary outbreak.

There was a small screeching noise, like that of a ricocheting firework. The surrounding smelled a hint of fuel and gasoline. The sound slowly grew louder: its sound has overcome the rain. The typhoon had a brief calm at its eye. This must be it, I told myself.

All the braving in my spirit gave my run its top speed. But! The sound gets nearer but there is no evident source to where this might possibly come from until...

An explosion! It materialized on the exact place where I was hiding.

It looked eons ago, that three people died on a tragic car accident. It would have been four, had I not left that spot, as I'd get burned to the humongous fire. Actually, maybe four really, including the poor cat which alerted me and saved my life.

Deliberation 1

As weird as it sounds, deliberating on whether to use my Unlimited service on the phone is just one of the products of my thoughts.

I can never think of anything sane right now. Nothing preoccupies me yet there is a series of untold paranoia happening. I don't want to lose sanity.

I just created this to release my emotional stresses. I'm so tired of having no one to listen. I feel like my mind is going to explode with stupidity.

I have lots of numbers of BOYS on my phonebook stash. Some of them are really good friends whom I knew for almost a year now. I hate the way they respond to me so I thought of the first paragraph. I just felt like they are not the right people at this moment. I am still trying to find the right company and even so, there is a difficulty.

I'm logged in to one of the most notorious websites in sighting homo intercourse. Jeez, I sound sleazy. But I just frustratingly need a new life, a life away from my routines. A life filled with SOMETHING NEWs.

James promises that this time, there will be no taking backs. =)