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DoodleScribbles

Scribblings and scrawls of a hopeless romantic soul

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life

Jalousie: A Vignette

dried rose flowers

be careful with jalousies
even locked doors are easy
to break into —
if they are half-open
MS


In response to dVerse’s OLN hosted by Grace. Today, I spent the whole afternoon thinking about jealousy jalousie. I strained my thoughts trying to scribble something longer but I think this one summarized it all. Image: Unsplash

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dverse

 

 

Over and over. Again and again.

At some point in this lifetime, your life will turn upside down. You knees will wobble in chasing your dreams. Your fingers will tremble holding on to hope. Frustration will try to claw out of your throat as fear strangles you by the neck. Your heart will break— terribly. Crushed and trampled on by circumstances or people. You will see life from a shattered mirror and trust me when I say that you will seek the comfort of oblivion.

I have been there.

I turned to silence and locked myself away from the awful world. Noise has also been my recourse to shut the voices screaming in my head. I gave myself an escape only to find I was building a cage. It was empty even when I was in it.

Coelho once wrote that life has a way of testing a person’s will: either by having nothing happen at all or by having everything happen all at once. I hope when you reach this point in your lifetime, you take a time to breathe. To take a step back. It’s okay to not know all the answers. It’s okay to swim in the ocean of confusion. It’s okay to fall. So take all the time you need to get those knees back up. Those hands ready to grip. And that heart? Remember that it is everything broken and glued back together.

Over and over. Again and again.

TRES MARIAS: Finding Beauty in the Blur

IMG_20181124_114922.jpg

Admit it or not, fear still creeps in your spine whenever you are faced with uncertainty. It is terrifying inasmuch as it is exciting. It takes your breath away for a second or two; it makes your heart skip a beat faster. Think of the last time you proudly called yourself brave — the day you stood up against your boss, the day you told your parents you’re gay, the day you told yourself ‘enough’ or the day you welcomed love. Whatever it is, you didn’t really know will happen next. But you did it anyway.

As for me, my recent hike with friends was nothing short of uncertainty… and yes, of fear and excitement.

Prelude

After climbing Ormoc’s Alto Peak last May, we talked, with eager and hopeful hearts, about how we’d target climbing Biliran’s Tres Marias next. The thought dragged on but there was no definite plan or word from anyone to carry it out. It was not until a month before the event that we decided to make it happen. With a short time to prepare physically, mentally and financially, the our organizer Shiela looked for heads to join the fun. Of course, the casts and crews of Alto Peak were present, with the exception of some and addition of others. By November 23, fifteen fun-loving folks headed to Pier 3, all geared for another major climb.

None of us knows what awaits in Tres Marias. We’ve read blog posts, seen pictures, and heard stories but uncertainty still sits at the back of our minds. The first jolt came when we are still in Cebu. Unfortunately, for safety purposes, Cebu Port Authority no longer allows carrying of butane canisters. So, we are faced with a dilemma on whether we can find one in the province or we’ll have to go back to the age of campfires to cook our food. The second jolt came a little later. Most hikers would opt to reach Biliran via Ormoc but we decided to take the ship that sails straight to Naval. What we thought an 11-hour travel time became 13 and a half, kissing our fixed itinerary goodbye.

However, in the midst of the uncertainty, dawn breaks with a gorgeous sunrise. With it came a promise of a beautiful day ahead. And so we forgot our little mishaps.

Sunrise ❤

Expecting the unexpected

Biliran is surrounded by mountains which explains the province’s abundant rivers and waterfalls. While I have been to two of their waterfalls during my summer trip with friends, I am certain Biliran has a lot more to offer. Some of them are found on the way to Tres Marias. Continue reading “TRES MARIAS: Finding Beauty in the Blur”

Sugod sa Sogod

Lately, memes about Titos and Titas of Facebook have been making rounds in social media. In essence, this is a millennial term used to describe “old schools” who have embraced the domestic lifestyle and content themselves with nostalgia and throwback posts. It’s funny though that most of those who claim to be “titos and titas” nowadays are millennials (born between 1980 and 2000). A generation known for its vibrancy and zeal, what happened to us?

The easiest explanation is aging in the digital age. We tend to be drained by too much loud and crowd. In the height of social media, we crave for genuine connection — with a person, with nature, with ourselves. And until we find these, we’d rather stay in the comforts of our homes.

But just because we age doesn’t mean we have to settle into the doldrums of ordinary. As what Anne of Windy Poplars once said, “There is so much in the world for us all if we only have the eyes to see it, the heart to love it, and the hand to gather it to ourselves.”

Starting off with this…

Away from the colors and grandeur of Sinulog, my friends and I (Team Buwad as we fondly call ourselves) went out of town for a weekend escape. Travelling 60 km northward from Cebu City is the municipality of Sogod. It is said that the town gained its name from the Cebuano term “sinugdanan” which means “beginning.” For its geographical and historical reasons, Sogod is where the stretch of white sand and the conversion to Christianity going north began.

As for us, it’s the beginning of a new adventure.

Bagatayam Falls
Getting to Bagatayam Falls is very easy. Just a few hundred meters from Sogod poblacion, we passed by the Bagatayam Bridge in Brgy. Bagatayam. Here’s a sneak-peak of the waterfalls from the bridge.

Continue reading “Sugod sa Sogod”

Lifetimes in retrospect

The sun has sunk and risen
And past felt out of touch
Like the silence after a curtain call
Or the dying embers of a fire
I watched it for the last time
In retrospect—
Swinging from pain and joy,
Trance and frustration
Memories tumbling out in smiles
At times in tears.

A demon waltzed into my subconscious
Where the loneliest of the loneliness remains
It asked me with indifference:
Would I live it all again and again?
Lifetimes flashed before my ancient eyes
Days that lifted me up
And those that worn me down
Lulled to sleep by the thought of recurrence
I said I would—
Until I move on to another life.

MS


In response to dVerse’s Poetics: Time and What If? hosted by Merril who challenges us to look at time backward, forward, inside, and out. Ponder it into a poem. Then wonder, what if?

I was supposed to write about this before 2018 ended. But life happened. So anyway…

Last December, I dived into the philosophy of Nietzsche which eventually led me to the idea of eternal recurrence. This thought experiment asks us not to take the idea as truth but rather asks us what we would do if the idea were true. As the year was coming to a close, I took a retrospect of my short two decades. It was far from being perfect and in its most pragmatic way, life has shown me the beauty and the ugly. If given the chance to live it again exactly as it was as Nietzsche posed, I would. Until the universe agrees that I’m ready for the next.

Happy new year! 🙂

Head over here to join the prompt!

dverse

You! Yes, you.

You! Yes, you.

You who are probably wearing a little black dress or a loose shirt and skinny jeans or your grandmother’s overalls.

Yes, you.

I want you to know that you can spit them now. Your hatred, your frustration, your anger. You are not a refugee from the past. You are here, now – breathing, living.

When you happen to pass a dark alley and you hear the whistle of lust, it’s okay to fight your might. Do not allow that man to define you in fragments. Skin, neck, legs, breasts and thighs— as if you are a piece of meat that can be pulled apart. I will join you in particicution for we are more than the gates of heaven that opens in one thrust. We are capable of giving them hell.

But, remember, you are also free to take flight. It is not your fault to tremble and feel your body shake. When the outside world and your mind are in equal darkness, it’s okay to cry. This world is cruel and respect is nothing but an amputated speech. I understand your distrust.

I’ve heard it too, passed on to me in soundless words with their lips hardly moving. Yes, they do not touch us but their eyes take off our clothes faster than their hands do. They claim respect but they reduce our worth to the size of an hourglass, a number, a measurement, a color. A rape joke with a disclaimer “do not take it personal”.

You! Yes, you.

Spit it out, that acrid taste of misogyny and sexism. Be angry and be frustrated because this is not what you deserve. Nolite te bastardes carborundorum.

MS


This one’s inspired by Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale, a harrowing story chronicling women’s struggle and survival set in a strict patriarchal society. The book is more that just a dystopian classic, it’s a warning to a not-so-distant future.

Fragments

She pushed herself through the crowd. Away from the hoard of bodies rocking to the music, sweating and screaming on top of their lungs. She headed southeast, walked the dimly lit boulevard and reached the familiar place she’s been missing. The quaint diner is still shy of people and the Day of the Dead has left it empty. From a distance, the concert went on.

“Why are they celebrating death?” She mused.

Finding a vacant bench, she sat side by side with nostalgia. Fragments of memories played on loop. She had to laugh. “It really is the day of ghosts.”

MS


Starting today, writers and bloggers around the globe join the National Novel Writing Month (NoNoWriMo). It is an annual one-month quest where literary minds commit to writing 50,000 words in the 30 days of November. But since an average of approximately 1,667 words per day is a far cry for my turbulent mind, I’ve decided to get back into micro stories. A hundred word a day for the lazy muse. Who’s doing the same? 😀

Best of luck to all NaNoWriMo entries! 🙂

Birds, worms and decays

animal, bird, black and white, favim, google, nature, photography, tumblr, vintage

dawn breaks,
and the early bird sees
where to fill its breakfast plate
flying high above the land
of lofty, mighty lords—
in the brown patch of the earth
the worms wriggle
from decays in its burrow
feeding over hungry peasants
deprived of tomorrow
MS


In response to dVerse’s Quadrille #67: early hosted by Kim.

Three days after I wrote a tribute piece to the working hands of mothers and coconut farmers, the Philippines awakened to a dreadful news. Nine sugarcane workers, including two minors and four women, in Sagay City, Negros Occidental, were brutally murdered by unidentified men. As if we never had enough of the 1985 Escalante Massacre, the 1987 Mendiola Massacre, the 2004 Hacienda Luisita Massacre, the 2016 Kidapawan Massacre — along with thousands of killings in the context of the peasant struggle. This war against the people and war against the poor is sickening.

The palace shouts of Red October. Now they got blood in their hands.

Head over here to join the prompt:

dverse

i try to bury the pain and blink

i try to bury the pain and blink.
with eyes moving from tab after tab, ears focused on the mechanical tapping of keyboards, i try to forget their names.

The first tab led me to 9gag. A GIF of a “normal night” in an english pub flashed before my eyes. Drunken men fighting each other, brawling for fun. It was supposed to make me laugh— but it didn’t. The images of bodies thrown on burning houses played at the back of my mind. Blood flows to the river banks as the women of Rohingya shout in pain.

blink.

I clicked the second tab that led me to Bored Panda. A list of surprisingly simultaneous historical events that will change the way you think of history caught my eye. I couldn’t get past after the odds of Prisoners Arriving At Auschwitz Just Days After Mcdonald’s Was Founded were mentioned. I felt my stomach flipped at the thought of death camp. My mind traveled back to Syria. What are the odds of living for the displaced refugees? Then to indonesia, will they be handed their rights?

blink.

On a desparate attempt to shun the looming gloom in my head, I tried the last tab. The literature page, my second virtual haven next to my blog. The poetry section listed Edgar Allan Poe’s A Dream Within a Dream on the top. His words pierced me with added force and I plunged into the depths of helplessness head first. Is this life just one big false awakening? Are the endless murders and tortures just part of a nightmare?

i try to bury the pain and blink.
closing the tabs, unplugging the chords, i stared at the black screen
hoping to forget their names.


I wrote this a month ago, on one afternoon I immersed myself in the world news. I did not pusblish it because I was disheartend with what was happening. Still is. But back then the pain was too raw for me to share it in this blog. The cynic and existentialist in me has taken over my head, asking questions that could not be answered. Or perhaps I just do not accept.

Justice, basic rights, peace.

Will the refugees ever get a chance to live with these? Or are we only good at sulking back to our chairs?

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