Flight of the Blue Pen

Little Girl Lost

2004-08-24T23:36:00.000+08:00

Sometimes
you want to go somewhere
but you end up elsewhere.

You take a wrong turn,
you take the wrong bus,
you go further
than you intended.

Sometimes
you want to go somewhere
but you end up elsewhere.

You end up lost
and you feel alone
in a strange world
far away from home.

Sometimes
you want to go somewhere
but you end up elsewhere.

But are you
really alone?
really far from home?

Nothing's ever
an accident.
Everything
happens for a reason.

Sometimes
you want to go somewhere
but you end up elsewhere.

But you realize
it's the right place
after all.

Because that's
exactly where
He wants you to be.

Kuwarto

2004-02-12T19:52:00.000+08:00

3202-D Women's Residence Hall, University of the Philippines, Los Baños

Ang aking bahay sa labas ng bahay. Ang aking sariling lugar kasama ang apat kong mga kaibigan. Ang lugar para sa kasiyahan, sa pag-aaral, sa pagtulog, at para tulugan ang iyong pinag-aaralan. Ang ikalawang kuwarto sa ikalawang palapag ng ikatlong yunit ng Women's Residence Hall sa UP Los Baños.

Ang totoo niyan, kung minsan ay hindi ko mawari kung ano bang talaga ang aking nararamdaman tungo sa kuwartong ito. Tuwing napapaloob ako sa kanyang apat na dinging, kung minsan ay gusto kong umalis na lang at umuwi na. Ngunit tuwing ako'y nasa kuwarto ko sa Lungsod Quezon, lagi kong naaalala ang mga katuwaan sa aming dormitoryo.

Pero, bakit ko naman gugustuhing bumalik sa dormitoryong iyon? Lagi namang nawawalan ng tubig (ang totoo, nakatala naman kung kailan mawawalan, kaya hindi naman abala). Nawawalan din ng koryente (nakatala rin kung kailan ito).

May curfew pa (dapat lang! Ako'y nagpunta sa LB para mag-aral, hindi magliwaliw). Bakit ko ba naman piniling manirahan sa dormitoryo ng unibersidad sa halip na sa sarili kong bahay?

Talaga nga naman.

Napaka-drama.

Pero, ang totoo, madali lang ang sagot diyan. Maliban sa pagiging mura nito, di hamak na mas maluwag ito sa mga pribadong dormitoryong nagkalat sa loob at labas ng unibersidad. Ngunit, hindi pa rin iyon ang pinaka-importanteng bagay sa WRH. Apat lang na salita ang kailangan ko.

Roommate.

Wingmate.

Unitmate.

Dormmate.

Gets mo na?

Haven

2003-12-21T17:41:00.000+08:00

Bordered by four blue walls,
an abode for a stuggling
writer, musician, and computer scientist.

Some call her a genius
but she doesn't guite agree
With talent, maybe, but
definitely not a genius.

Here, ideas flow from
a seasonally creative mind.
Writing, writing, writing and typing.
Pen gliding across the paper,
fingers flying on the keyboard.

Taking inspiration from the
Chinese lantern hanging,
reminding her that
life is beautiful, indeed.

A white desk that was formerly
her parents' dresser with a mirror;
she and her brother
would watch themselves dance
when they were seven.
When days were carefree.

A cabinet that had seemed so huge,
she fit inside when she was small.
The one with the trapdoor,
she had pretended to have hidden treasures.
The one she has been using
as far as she could ever remember.

Shoes and socks lay
sprawled on the floor,
taken off of tired feet,
tired from a long day.
She can fix them later
after she had rested a bit first.
On the bed with the soft, comfortable, pillows.

Think

1999-05-13T14:54:00.000+08:00

Ever tried trying to hard to think of something about, that you can't think of anything at all?

You sit there, and you realize you're not doing anything. You go, "I'm supposed to do something..." and you think. You try to bring up a topic in your brain, but because the current topic is "what to think", other ideas won't come out. And so, you're stuck at zero.

Somehow, an idea comes to your mins. An idea so brilliant that you want to stop whatever you're doing to ponder about it, and you're too busy pondering over it that you don't get to write it down. After you finally arrive at a conclusion of your idea, some distraction takes your attention, and your brilliant idea flies out of your brain.

So you write whatever comes to your mind. You have a notebook especially for spontaneous thoughts. But then, where's your notebook when you need it? When a thought comes to your mind, the notebook's missing. And when you're holding the notebook in your hands, no phenomenal or extraordinarythought pops in your head. Where are they, vacationing?

So you decide to write on a piece of paper instead. But alas! Your paper is misplaced in your room. You fix your room, but after a while, all your spontaneous notes are scattered on the floor! You finally gather them together, but you can't understand your own writing. Some notes you don't even remember writing.

So you decide to put a date on each note. You see one of your notes a few weeks later, and you put it in the trash can, thinking that it's old, and the idea seems pretty corny, anyway. But then, there goes your idea. What'll you do when you need it?

So you decide to read every paper throroughly before putting it in the trash. Your room eventually needs to be cleaned out again, and you have to throw away clutter. You read every paper, and you come across a letter sent to you by an old friend 5 years ago. And you never get to finish cleaning your room. You devise a plan on how to finish this, and you get a great idea. The problem is you can't just write it because it'll get lost in the mounds of paper in your room.

So you write the plan down in your brain. The next day, you remember that you told yourself to do something, but you forgot. You sit there, and you think...