S&S Reruns: Got to Write

Today we're picking someone up from the airport, someone who's going to start her new journey here. Enter nostalgia attacks from my first year here. Enter an S&S rerun posted here: http://mariscribbles.com/2009/08/27/got-to-write/

Yey.

***

My fingers are sore, my eyes are getting droopier and droopier, and tiny pimples are starting to sprout on my cheeks and forehead. And it’s half-past one.

But I have to write. I've got to write. Or else this flow of words will come to a sorrowful halt.

So let me type away. Type away about what? Well, what else do these fingers type about?

Life. Love. Leaving???

Sounds like Shiela.

But those are rather nice topics.

So here goes.

Life. Buhay. This Wednesday, I was able to pay the Philippine Embassy a visit. I went there with some Filipino friends and because of some circumstances, we actually paid the embassy two visits. One in the morning and another in the afternoon.

So there was a waiting period in between the two visits. Guess where we spent the waiting period? At KLCC. At the food court.

But no, we didn't pig out on the stuff sold there. We just simply sat down. And did our own thing. While waiting.

The person I was with that time did some budgeting. I did some people-watching.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a stalker or anything like that. But our spot at the food court faced the park which was one or so floors down. So what else could I do but watch the people there?

There were these Koreans (or Chinese, or Japanese – I’m not really quite sure) taking some pictures of themselves with the towering KLCC towers as their background.

There was this guy walking briskly carrying some sort of briefcase or laptop bag.

There were these men in rubber boots walking all over the pond, scattering stuff over the waters.

There were tourists, locals, Caucasians, Asians, old people, young people – all there but all living their own lives.

It made me wonder. What were their life-stories? What made those Koreans come to KL? How long were they staying there? And what of that man? Where was he heading? What was running through his mind as he hurried across the park? Well he sure was a stark contrast to the rubber-booted men. Now did those men do the water-walking and stuff-scattering to feed their families? Or did they do it for the mere fun of walking on water?

So many lives. So many different stories. Made me think about my own life story. Made me think about those of my friends. Made me think about yours. So tell me. What is your life story?

Love. Pag-ibig. Storge, Philia, Eros, and Agape. I’ve written about storge, philia,and agape. I have written some stories about love of the romantic kind. But never talked about it directly. Never really shared my thoughts and experiences about it in a direct manner either. Well, not in this blog anyway.

And I’m not going to. Write or talk about it directly, I mean. Let’s settle for funny stories and metaphors for now. :)

Time will come when I would cut the metaphors and write it straight out.

Leaving. Pag-alis. Parting is such a sweet sorrow. But that’s life. You have to deal with goodbyes. That’s love as well. One popular high-schoolish quote goes like this: “If you love someone, let him/her go. If he/she comes back, he/she is yours, if he/she doesn’t he/she never was.” Or something like that.

So why this note on leaving?

Well, because this blog ends here. My fingers, my eyes, and my pimples can’t take it any longer. And now it’s half-past two.

Adieu.

S&S Reruns: Warm Socks Feel Like Home

Another rerun. It's so hot right now in Malaysia but I'm excited to wear warm socks again. Be going home soon! Yey! Originally posted here: http://mariscribbles.com/2010/10/06/warm-socks-feel-like-home/

* * *

Warm socks feel like home. They especially feel like home when they are worn under big rubber shoes. The combination shields my feet from the wetness of the sporadic “ber” rains. They save me from all feeling of squishy-ishy discomfort. They spare me from having to ride buses and trains with wet and freezing cold lower appendages.

Warm socks feel like home. Wearing them to sleep during these chilly “ber” nights sends me back to my room in La Trinidad. There I have a huge collection of long woolly (and well worn) socks which have always been useful when the cold months rolled around.

When I wear them and wiggle my toes under my Za’ba blankets, I feel like I’m not in Malaysia. I feel like my Mom would come knocking on my door any second, forcing me to get up.

Warm socks feel like home. But more like Home is my Resting Place who constantly shields me from every storm, who tells me when I’m all squishy and uncomfy that “Everything will turn out fine and dandy.”

More like Home is the Warm Embrace that covers me from head to toe, thawing away the coldness of my heart and bringing me back to the very Place where I belong.

Back to Him. Because He is my very Home.

When all is said and done, after nature and the whole work and acad load have all poured down, after the nights’ and the situations’ coldness have all passed, we would always find ourselves looking for… yearning… wanting to go back to that Home.

Well. He is our Home.

S&S Reruns: On Walkathons

I am still trying to wrap my emotions around the month of February. Meanwhile, here's a rerun from 2012, with a flashback of something that happened on February 2009.

Originally posted here: http://mariscribbles.com/2012/07/31/on-walkathons/

* * *

One step. Two steps. Three steps. Four. My feet go thump-thump-thump-thump as I weave around the neighborhood. As I walk, twilight is planting its kiss on the pavement, on the streetlights, and on the houses that I encounter along the way. It paints a serene picture, calming me down, dispelling the anxious thoughts that have made their way into my mind during the day.

I missed doing this. Going out on a walkathon. I had wanted to do some runs on one of the condo’s treadmills but the lights were out – the gym was probably under maintenance – so here I am, walking, just going wherever my feet decides to take me. I am unconstrained by time, unhindered by walls. Simply unrestricted. I had left my wristwatch at home and I will only cease walking once my strength has given out.

Walking has always been therapeutic to me. As a child, I used to “make-dabog” across the wooden floors of our house when my parents didn’t let me have my way. As a teenager, I took it out on the concrete pavements of Los Banos when life didn’t.

“Okay lang ba kung mag-lakad-lakad nalang tayo?” “Okay lang. Saan?” “Kahit saan. Sa Sta Fe. Sa Agapita. Sa may EBC. Sa Umali. Hindi ako makapag-isip eh. Kelangan kong maglakad.” “Sige, tara.”

Walkathons are always so much better though when you’re walking it out while talking it out with someone. Or certain someones. I miss those people who took walks with me, you know, once upon a time. Like when I had my heart broken in high school. When I had tantrum attacks in college. When I faced crossroads after graduation.

I wish I had someone to walk it out with me right now.

But solitude is sweet. And though I walk these roads alone for now, I know I won’t be doing so for long. 

Twilight brings in darkness, but dawn will bring forth newness and light, soon enough.

So I will keep walking through the night.

S&S Reruns: Some Things Never Change

It's official. I'll be home in 51 days! Flight's booked, leave's approved - konting kembot nalang and then it's home sweet home.

So here's a post about my first homecoming after spending five months in Malaysia (But I am now pushing to four years - whew). Enjoy!

Originally posted here: 

http://mariscribbles.com/2009/12/16/some-things-never-change/

* * *

I have a stiff neck.

I’m blaming it on the long bus ride home. I think I spent almost eleven hours on the road yesterday. Sleeping. Thinking. Sleeping again. Bumping my head unconsciously on the Victory Liner side window as I slept some more.

Thank goodness one bump knocked me back into consciousness just as the bus entered the city limits. Or else I would have missed the pretty city lights that have always signaled the end of my long bus rides and have always welcomed me back home.

Some things never do change.

I still get that warm, fuzzy “I’m home” feeling whenever I see those city lights.

* * *

I slept in this morning and woke up to groggily answer Jona who called me up using Prince’s unlicall-enabled phone. I wandered around the empty house (Mom, Dad, and Quantum had all left for school) as Jona and I chattered on and on about God-knows-what. As I made my way from room to room, I noted that indeed, some things have still remained as they were, as they are.

Our small bathroom still serves as a mini-library. And Mom’s shampoo and conditioner collection is still growing, growing, and growing.

My bedroom is still that colorful interior designer’s nightmare. My goodness. My colorful posters-slash-artworks are still up and my bed is still that mess of oranges, blues, greens, and pinks. And yeah, two-thirds of the colorful mess still serves as mom’s walk-in closet. Hahahaha.

The living room hasn’t changed a bit and the Cowabunga mirror (which has been there since forever) is still there, serving as a reminder of my teenage-mutant-ninja-turtle-filled childhood (hey, I was a fan of Michelangelo and his grappling hooks!).

Okay, okay. So I’ve been away for only five months. Parang naman daw ang daming magaganap na pagbabago sa limang buwan na yon.

Well, my brother has a new desk in his bedroom (say bedroom in a small squeaky voice). And there’s his new laptop.

And there are the million changes that have occurred inside Mari that I can’t explain and contain even up until now.

* * *

Okay. So I still can’t seem to express myself in the way that I want to. “Basta yun. Ewan.”

Has it really been five months that I’ve been out of the country? Has it only been five months?

It feels like five years. No, it feels like five days.

Sigh. So much has happened. But in some ways – it feels as if I had never left.

Ay ewan.

This is as far as my melancholic mood can get me today.

More writings later. Like, after the batch outing. Hehe.

S&S Reruns: By My Window

We're travelling further back into the past today - to 2010. I was still living in the dorm back then. Sigh. Memories. Originally posted here:
http://mariscribbles.com/2010/03/05/by-my-window/

***

I’m sitting by my window. Looking at the sky. Listening to the merry chirping of the Za’ba birds. Savouring the cool, crisp, early morning breeze as it gently blows through my window.

The morning is unhurried. Unrushed. I’m simply watching and praying, noting that my to-do list can wait until a little bit later.

I hug my yellow fleece blanket to my knees, getting lost in the comfort of its warmth.

The view outside my window is a semi-strange sight. Morning has just broken, and clouds still fill the usually clear and sunny Malaysian sky. But that’s not what’s so strange about it. What’s strange is that it’s Malaysian sky.

The view is different. And the sounds that resound through the air are different as well. My room is somewhat an earshot away from the Surau and my mornings are usually punctuated by the early morning call to prayer.

But different is good. I’m loving living out my life in this foreign soil. This is what I’ve always wanted, right?

Sure, the language is somewhat crazy. “Uhh.. boleh cakap perlahan-lahan?”

And the weather is often agonizingly hot. “Sangat panas. Sangaaat panaaaassss…”

And public transportation leaves a lot to be desired. “Ayy.. Alamak.”

But the benefits of staying here override all the sacrifices that have been and still have to be made.

I close my eyes for a moment and let one last breeze caress my cheeks and I rise, ready to move on with the rest of the day.

The 10:00 am sunshine has already broken through, and now it’s time to move on to the rest of the day.

S&S Reruns: Change

Tuesday's post visited an event that happened one year ago. This one will visit one which took place two years before this one. 

Welcome to my trip down memory lane.

***

Change is inevitable. You can either try to ignore it, accept it, embrace it, or dive straight into it.

Because really, change will come whether we like it or not.

A couple of days back, I entered a Rapid KL bus bound for UKM and was greeted by the sight of passengers flipping through a couple of blue and red pamphlets. There was a pile near the bus driver’s seat and since the encik was still with his bus driver comrades, I helped myself to a pamphlet of my own.

“Introducing the NEW bus ticketing system!”

The red and blue paper said. “BIT! On entry! BIT! On exit! Sooo… Easy!”

Interesting. When I came here to Malaysia 1.5++ years ago, Rapid KL had these RM 1 tickets that the passengers could use the whole day. It was like a ride-all-you-can experience. After some time, they probably realized that the buses were getting low on dough. So they told the passengers that the tickets would now be good  for only a single journey. That was fine with the people who’d soon readily present the magic blue bill every time they’d enter the red, blue, and yellow bus.

So now they’re promoting the use of touch-n-go cards, like the ones Singaporeans use when commuting.

“BIT! Sekali masuk! BIT! Sekali keluar! BIT! BIT Kad Rabbit!”

Really, the Rabbit Card that I bought from the bus driver yesterday made me laugh out so, so loud. It’s the year of the funny bunny, alright.

I bought a card yesterday though I had been planning to get one ever since I read the Rapid KL pamphlet. I figured it would do me good. I wouldn’t have to worry about keeping RM 1 notes in my wallet all the time, plus I’d save up around RM 2 a week. I use Rapid KL busses like Filipinos use jeepneys and RM 2 is sorta a lot. I could buy a nice cup of teh tarik with that. Anyway. Well, now, I’d just bit, bit, bit away at the cost of RM 0.80 per way. However, I couldn’t help myself to a card immediately because the Rapid KL drivers were still easing up the transition stage.

Transition.

I watched how the drivers discussed and had these impromptu tutorials inside one of the empty buses behind us the other day. I reckon they didn’t know how to use the card readers yet, so they had to get acquainted with them first. They had to, before they could even expect their passengers to do the same.

They had trouble implementing the whole thing during the first day, but yesterday, this guy rode with all the passengers and explained how the whole thing worked. I watched how theencik patiently explained everything to the passengers. I listened as one Malay girl asked all the FAQs running through every passenger’s mind. I had already decided that I would buy a card from him, but it was interesting to watch the whole introduction process unfold before my eyes first.

After the guy’s detailed explanation, a couple of people (me included) bought Rabbit Cards of their own. Today, quite a lot of people were already using them though some still had trouble “Bit-ing” the cards the right way. “Sila sentuh kad sebelah lagi”.

Well, it’s going to take some getting used to, but pretty soon everyone would probably be doing it like it’s their second nature.

Sigh. So many changes this season. But like I said. It’s going to take some getting used to. But sooner or later, it’s all going to be second nature.

Cheers to change!

Originally posted in: http://mariscribbles.com/2011/03/10/change/

S&S Reruns: Drowning in Nostalgia

I had a strange dream about Cameron Highlands last night. I and some friends were supposed to drive up there but stuff happened. I ended driving up with my family instead. But then the place didn't look like the CH that I remembered. Weird.

So now I'm posting this Sketches and Scribbles Rerun. Originally posted in what is now becoming my literary blog.

***

I’m curled up in a sizable sofa, lost underneath layers of blankets and comforters. I could hear buzzes of conversations in the background, as well as the faint sound emitting from a laptop’s speaker. My eyelids start to flutter as fatigue rears its head and the warmth of the sofa invites me to let go of the realm of reality and embrace the domain of dreams.

As I begin to drift into the land of slumber, a wave of nostalgia starts to take over me. Memories of younger Maris curled up in 5/54-Odell-Street and IB64-Betag sofas, wrapped in comfortable blankets, falling asleep in front of ongoing TV shows begin to make their way into my mind. I start to feel the same contrast of the coolness in my cheeks and the warmth on my toes. Then the same warm fuzzy feelings. Then the same comfort, like that which a mug of hot chocolate brings on a cold rainy day. Memories, memories, brought back again by my present realities.
Yep. I’m drowning in nostalgia. Been swimming in it actually, and now I’m drowning in it.

I’ve been been swimming in this sea for the most part of the month of August. Been having nostalgia attacks everywhere I turn. For the most part of the month, every sight, every location, and every experience would remind me of something that I had also seen, been to, and experienced somewhere and sometime in the past.

The cafeteria and hallway of Burhan reminded me of the Thoughts Beyond Culture 2, of that time that me and a whole bunch of my friends participated in that cultural and academic exchange that proved that friendship transcended distance, language, and culture, of that event that sort of started this all.

The escalators and walkways at Mines, Alamanda, and KLCC gave me a remembrance of my last months in the Philippines, of those moments that I’ve shared with a couple of close friends there, and those  hours that I spent bonding with them in the SM Ayala, Glorietta, and Greenbelt area.

And most recently, the cool air at the Cameron Highlands gave me a recollection of my last days home, of my last moments with my family in La Trinidad, Benguet, and of that final outing with my beloved friends and batchmates, of the laugh and cry-fest that we had those 48-plus hours together.

Cafeterias, hallways, escalators, walkways, cool air… and even more…. all these have sent in floods of nostalgia, waves of cherished memories that I have been drowning in.

But a gasp of fresh air and a sudden resurfacing leads me to sweep those memories back into my memory bank, grateful for them, but now aware that tomorrow will bring another day.

As my eyes begin to give way, I fall asleep knowing that I will awaken to a brand new morning. As the conversations and other sounds around me grow fainter, I acknowledge them to be the sounds and voices that I would be hearing for the next few years of my life. And as I sink deeper into the sofa, as I become truly lost underneath the blankets and comforters, I sink deeper into the reality that I am now here making new memories, lost in the fact that soon, falling asleep in big sofas underneath warm blankets would bring me back to this moment in the Villa Dahlia at the Cameron Highlands.

I sink deeper into this reality. New memories await. And if later on, the waves of nostalgia would come rushing back, I’ll have those new memories to drown in.

I’ll have those new memories to drown in.

A snapshot of that memory.