To the depths, and back again. And after having gone through so many similar travels, I realize that there's really nothing sublime, or noble about it. It's simply something that one goes through, many times during one's life.

Ah, been spending too much time on twitter. I can't even write a decent paragraph anymore.

I'll get around. One way, or another.
But not now.

Night, blogger. Now, back to Twitter.

Vacillating vixens. Meandering mannequins. Grappling grizzlies. Pixies' pinkies. Clamoring clarinets. Magnets magnified. Smiling smokers. Flaming fleets. Spiny spinsters. Cruising in crowds. Marinating marsupials. Demarcated demographics. Harping harlequins. Sleepy slopes.

The broken heart is a remarkable thing:

it holds on to what it shouldn't, pines after what is gone, long gone; from what is there, chooses what is no longer there and, therefore, can no longer be had; languishes where gloom and anguish are; talks in its sleep and yet, is mute when asked to speak the pain out; slams the door on sunlight and insists on turning all the lights off because they are "too bright", and then complains of seeing darkness everywhere, trembling, like a sick heart, because the dark illuminates what should be obliterated, cloaks what should be suffered.

From out of nowhere, this image:

Gray skies, a cafe, the smell of warm bread and steaming coffee, and I, bundled in a purple, knit sweater, my nose against the glass window, watching the rain falling on the cobbled street, listening to the sound of raindrops tapping on the window sill.

So, this is how I am

Last night, while I was having my nails done, I felt the stirrings of an earthquake (the salon was at the third floor of the mall, so, ok, yeah, maybe it was really more than a stirring). The so-called "Super Moon" has come and gone (yes?) and I never got around to so much as a peek. And the earthquake in Japan, tsk. I've mostly kept mum about these, and more, perhaps that have gone past my nose without my knowing.

Sometimes, even I am appalled by my capacity to shrug things off (the getting appalled episode happening during my more lucid moments, if I may add). The yawn, the almost-empty stare, the absent smile, the mechanical nod: these are characteristic of me, even in times of crisis, or those occasional bumpings-into with the distraught acquaintance, or the emotional peer. 

(Though let me insert here that I, too, am perfectly capable of jumping up and down and shouting to the top of my lungs when I win bets (like the most recent one, on whether it was Lennon or McCartney who wrote "Eleanor Rigby"), that my eyes do sparkle and shine when I am in a conversation where books and music are fodder, and that tears stream down my cheeks when I watch movies that strike to the core of my ideals and beliefs.)

It makes me sad, when I think about it. Is it disinterest? Selfishness? In/voluntary detachment? Or is it that parallelism to my other sphere, that predisposition toward despair, that ease in falling prey to breakdowns, that faculty of feeling too much--and hurting too much--where I should flick things off and accept them as part of life and, therefore, something that I will soon get through?

All in all, it could be that search for balance, the desire for that ever so delicate sense of equilibrium that I know I have so little of; bluntly put, it could simply be that instinct for survival.

remember remembering writing

about the girl
who prayed
to St. Jude

the sad clump
of candles
drooping
beneath the weight
of flame
and supplication

When I am unable to sleep, I listen to this:

And the cares go away like leaves blown by some vagrant wind.
Listen to "All I Want" here.

I noticed that there haven't been much to see around here lately. Maybe it's the approaching holidays that's bringing in the sloth but I haven't been seeing much updates. Oh, well. Time to ho-ho-ho, I guess.

Ho-hum.

In the mean time, I'm looking forward to another coffee date with my brothers when I go home this Christmas:

Now that got me hankering for chocolate! This, in particular:

CRISPY M&Ms!!! Yummy!
*sigh*

(Random) Thoughts (as usual):

1. Nowadays, the pattern of the bi-monthly paycheck saying "hello" and, after a wee bit of time, "goodbye" has become so noticeable that it's gotten to be a basic expectation. (sigh)
2. I started reading a book almost a month and a half ago and I still haven't found the time to finish it. grrr
3. Christmas weather is descending upon us. I only wish the days weren't as scorching as they still are now, as the night breeze is such a welcome cool.
4. I'm so itching to catch the latest Harry Potter movie but haven't found the time to do do.
5. This is the first time in years that so many people in the office are grumbling about their 13th-month pay (me included). I just hope all those taxes are going where they should be going.
6. I miss my mom's spaghetti.
7. A list doesn't always have to have ten items on it so I'm ending this at seven.

Here

is never where there is and I am made to make do with what is in it: the two shoe boxes under the shoe cabinet, the coffee mug on top of it, the yellow stress ball perched so snugly on the mug's mouth, the film of dust on the ball, the nothing in the dust which can't be nothing but which I call nothing because I cannot see it--

Thinking life

could be contained by mere words, you throw two into the air, carelessly because you were asked too soon for, well, something someone could live a day by, and without so much as a minute to consider what it is you will hand over, and because you have to go where you will be expected to throw out more words and catch them in return; you leave not knowing that when you come back, what you had so impulsively given will not take the form you had expected it to take (because where you had gone, you had time to form a notion of forms even if it meant shaping them in between, well, words).