Birthday poem for Minapot

My first poem for the year. Happy birthday, Sis!

AJ - n. friend and sister

I've known her pretty damn well back then. We've shared most of everything we had for a whole year. Bed, pillows, blankets. Laughters, tears, heartaches. Birthdays, Valentine's, and some holidays. Yes, a year of extraordinary friendship, sisterhood and all the stuffs that come in between.

She's one of the craziest and coolest girl I know who didn't mind spending over stationaries and inks just so I could get a note everyday. EVERYDAY. She hardly said a word about that being too demanding of me. Although she didn't have much to say, she kept all the notes coming, just because I love them.

And here are just some of the love she sent my way:

And this is our own alphabet, yes, we're crazy like that.

Sadly, I couldn't read our brilliant little conversation here. This must be amnesia. Tsk.

#

She was my bestest, and somewhere in this great big unpredictable world, I lost her. It might sound like an overstatement, but my heart bled for missing, for wanting, for needing - her. Yet, she wasn't there. And I wasn't there for her just the same.

We grew apart. I was devastated. I think we both were.  She never came back. I was dumb enough not to get her back. Not to write her letters, not to visit her in Zambales, not to call her as often as I could, not to do anything that would have eased the pain from a part of me that died, a part that had always been left out, and was left empty for only her to occupy.

When someone dear to me died, I wished for her to be there. I needed her to be there. I couldn't even remember if I called her, or asked her to come to my rescue. Maybe it was my fault, I haven't told her that I felt lost and alone without her.

She got married, and it ached, me not being a part of it. Not long after, she gave birth to a baby girl, and I wasn't at her side either, to offer a congratulations, to share with her joy, to ask her if it had been really difficult, or what it felt like to finally be a mom.

I had my chance to ask her and tell her all those when she asked me to be a godmom, but I dind't have the extra time, nor the resources to pull of a Manila-Zambales stunt. And I regret not having to make a way for that.

#

After six years, it still doesn't feel quite right. She was the closest I've come to having a sister, and she still is. And I will build back our bridge now. I'm going to write her letters, call her just because. Maybe we won't have the same commitment to friendship, but I'll love it [friendship] no matter what. And this time, I'm not letting go even if I have to. 'Cause she may not be my best friend anymore, but she's my sister by heart, and I love her like that.

Side note: Would love to put a picture of us together, but there aren't any. Why we haven't had a picture together, I don't know. Those days weren't the time of the digital camera craze. What a waste.

Thursday tear-jerker

Last Saturday, I did a round to my well-loved NBS. Although I plead with myself to not step a foot on that red store because I know I'm not exiting there empty-handed. At that time, I thought to myself how my feet jerked me around, suddenly taking it upon itself to desire a life of its own and lure me in.

Since my book collection had been dominated by Americans and English writers, it dawned on me that there's no greater love except to love thy own. For that, the Western invasion was on halt to give way to the Philippines' finests. There appeared a recent add to the shelf, it caught my eye (it being the only copy left) and I said to myself, "Quite an interesting cover." And like most people do, I peeked at the back, read, then suddenly lit up with a rotated crescent moon planted on my face. I was sold after reading the snippet, knowing that this Pam Pastor not only had great writing prowess, she's my colleague too.

Although I have this knack for Googling people out, she was an exception, only because I know I'd meet her one day, close enough to let her sign my copy. Until then, she will remain anonymous to me. I even wondered if I might have accidentally ran into her at the wash room, or maybe at the corridors. Oh, it didn't matter, I said to myself

Then, the gods (if it was ever plural), heard me. The chance encounter. The moment. I was frantically holding my book (well, technically it's her book) walking up to her station, and blurted the very common thing one says when you've never seen a person you've heard of.

I: "Pam Pastor?"
PP: Yes?
I: *says nothing, and by instinct, hands her my copy together with a Hello Kitty pen*
PP: What's your name?
I: "Jenna."
PP: How do you spell?
I: "J-e-double n-a."
PP: *strikes my lovely pen at my first ever grab-an-autograph-by-approaching-the-author moment*

She hands me my book back, while she was teased by her department colleagues about stuffs I need not mention because it wasn't necessary, that not being their moment. ^_^

The perky me went back to my corner, shedding a tear out of sheer joy of what had just happened. I then sat and read what she wrote for me. And to share how I adored her penmanship just the same as her message, here it is.

How Love overwhelmed me one Thursday evening

I was about to go to sleep, but decided to check on my Facebook page to snoop around. And as I go click on to the 'older post' option to see who's been updating lately, my soon-to-wed friend Mina appears with her lovely smack-my-ass-if-this-isn't-at-all-proof-i'm-in-love video.

The song couldn't have been perfect. It fits her fairytale-like story with Manesh (the lucky guy who won her heart over). I'd love to share with you how they began so you could understand where this frolicking heart of mine is at the moment, but I am not well-versed on how their relationship blossomed into such a beautiful portrait (as seen in the picture). But I will be there, soon enough, to witness their historic beginning, to bid them goodbye; off to the start of their wonderful journey.

Until then, this heart of mine will ache for their wedding story.

Side notes [To Mina]: The first thirty seconds was the sweetest. The whole nine yards was history. Extra note:  Permission to upload photo, please. 

To my soon-to-be Maid of Honor

I tried to let the whole world know what you are to me, but no amount of words, nor paper could do you justice.

Happy birthday, G! May the good Creator bless you with more beautiful life years and a handful of blessings.

Discerning friends at 59

My mom had some rough ordeals the last couple of months. The second trimester of the year was one of the filthiest time of her life, if I may overstate it.

Well I for one, was shocked when I learned the issues that she went through, especially when I heard it was about her friends. You see,  my mom values her friends more than she does herself. That's how martyr she is with friends, she goes the distance for them without complaint. Sometimes, she even lets them be on her top priority more than anybody, so you can imagine my disappointment when her flocks suddenly turned into ugly ducklings. It never occurred to me that at her age, she have yet to know who her true friends are. This only supplements the concept that age really does prove to be only a number.

It was one sunny day in the month of June I think, when one of her long time friends turned user-pretending-to-be-friend stepped on her like a foot rug in the mud. And it seriously raged me when I heard the story of the backstabbing, and how he shamelessly threw my mom off the garbage can as though she was spoiled food. I sobbed and was so mad that I had to outrageously curse and lambaste his name. I was hurt (to the superlative degree) because I know that bastard since I don't know when and even paid him high respects. It never came to my mind that  he'll be the one who would do that to my mom upfront. Imagine if I was this mad, how much more was my mom.

But I never heard a thing from her (knowing how she nags), I just saw the tears that she hid from me while I asked her what happened. And as it broke my heart to see her keeping her cool and trying to contain her emotions, she told me how it was a waste of time to even talk about it. Even though she denies it, I know how broken she was, and I prayed for her more than I regularly do. Just so she could stand up and be her best again, this time with enough wisdom to discern friends.

After two months, my mom of twenty four years turned fifty-nine. And in celebration for the blessing of life, she opted to share the night with friends -- her real friends that is. I've never seen her happier.

Side note: I thank God for hearing my prayers and for giving Mama true friends to keep her company for the rest of her life.

My Kikay Bestfriend - G

Our story began with a loss, though it’s sad to see it that way. However, I guess the saying was right: You lose someone in exchange for another. It was the aftermath of the loss that made me realize I needed someone to cling to, to hold on. I was left alone, and was boxed in a world of my own, until you came along.

You managed to help me through the pain, and even shared the pain with me. Come hell or high water, you were there to be my friend though you’re not part of my circle; and I felt more than sorry to not have seen that in you from the start. And as my circle started to lose its shape, you remained. You even welcomed me to your world, one that I am very much proud to be part of.

We had gone through our first real-life work together. Though it was not the career I was ideally linked to, I believed a part of me wanted to stay, because in that confined little office space, was you – that someone who knew me better than anyone else, who became my instant confidante and who tells me the what and what not’s in my states of confusion.

You saw me fall out of love, and fall back in love again. You saw me at my worst, and witnessed me stand up and be my best, again.

Amidst the constraints and differences, we remained to be the best of friends. Though we aren’t the type to be so engrossed about everything that happens with each other’s lives, nor do we constantly meet and catch up, I know that I can always crash back to you, if deemed necessary.

It’s so uncool that we don’t have an anniversary to keep count of our years of friendship. But why care about numbers, when what’s important is I have you?

Happy Birthday G! Kudos!

Missing out

I'm the type that wants to be present whenever there's something going on with my friends' lives, whether it be that their hearts got broken, or they got a promotion, they got engaged, or that they're having a baby, that they're in love, or that they want me to meet someone special, they're depressed with work or for any family matter, they're pissed off and just wanted to let it out, or they just wanted to share the spare time over dinner and bottles of liquor. I care not on the occasion, rather, I just love to see them, chat with them, and laugh out.

I hate missing things out. It makes me feel crap about being so workaholic or being so into EJ (which I, by the way, am both). Sometimes, I feel like I can't afford to miss a date with friends, just because they make me feel special in a totally different way.

I guess, I'm just not good at missing.

On a High, with Five

My adolescence started with them, my formative years to be exact. I learned the basics, giggled about my crushes, played indoors (and outdoors even), attended parties, developed my hobbies, competed, studied, prayed, laughed, sanged, cried, ate -- with them. I had most, if not all, of the wonderful experiences with them. But like every chapter, ours closed, and off we went to see the world go on proportions.

And here we are, after eleven long years, our chapter re-opened.

I missed them all. I missed how I usually start the day seeing them, and end it by bidding them goodbye. It was a routine, if I may state it that way -- a routine I never thought I'll miss all these years.

We laughed, ate, talked, whacked, and to sum it all up, we made up for the lost time. And yes, it was the time of my life. And alas, I found the missing link.

When I was younger, I thought that when you have a career, and you have someone to love who loves you back, everything's alright. Well, it is. But I happen to neglect the fact that, sometimes, you need friends who you open to, be frank with, play stupid with, and still love you for the person you've become.

Seeing them after such a long time gave me back the joy of having friends -- a bunch of friends. I cannot recall how long has it been since I've gone to a group date with friends. It was always just me and EJ, me and my best friend, never a group. You may well be wondering how someone like me could not have friends to go out with? To tell you frankly, I don't know. I just don't have it.

That's what made last night such a high -- I'm on a high, with us five. ^_^

Here's to yesterday

My life isn’t that much of a mystery. I have always been very transparent about how I feel about certain things that people ask me about. I have always been a story-teller, and I find joy in trying to tell the world how I lived and how I continue to do so. It was, somehow, a habit I couldn’t break… until I finally reached the point of no return where I learned that a little mystery won’t hurt me, and that untold secrets about me and my world wouldn’t make a difference at all. And together with the loss of habit, I lost my “so-called” friends.

At first, I felt like we were just giving ourselves some time off from being together for four years. It was something I never asked for, nor wanted (though I was glad that we had the space apart). After a month or two, I thought we’ll then reconcile our friendships and continue to enjoy each other’s company like we always do. However, the odds were great, and suddenly we got too uncomfortable to go back to where we were before. Things just ended up quite obscure this time that we can’t patch it up anymore.

Side note: Changing something for the better doesn’t make one less of a person, nor does it make one less of a friend.