20040901
crushing details
it was sept. 1 when we traded quezon city for chicago in 2004. it is ten years later, sept. 1, today.
the crushing detail right now is that no one seems to remember that today is the day we traded houses, realities, one for the other. no one seems to remember that a few days from today, supposedly, i'd run away in sunglasses after crying for home so desperately. sunglasses at 7 in the evening.
i had nowhere to go. i looked ahead and there it was - the public library. to this day libraries have been my refuge. the rows and rows of books always allowed me to escape.
libraries and gardens. i've become a total geek. if i don't get lost in a crowd, all collectively watching someone make fools of themselves for the sake of entertainment, i trample to gardens. one winter that froze the pavement in ice outside my mother's cousin's house, i slipped and fell on a patch of iced grass.
it was my first winter. an elderly woman, her face full of concern, called, "are you all right?" freaked me out. elderly women aren't supposed to be walking, especially if they were wrinkled and slightly stooped like that. but apparently in this new town we moved to, they did.
the world whirled around me and fell upside down - and in this new town, i thought appropriately so. i picked myself up and carefully trod to the bus stop to catch my dignity in class. in class, even my worst falls impress the class and my teachers. appropriately so - nothing in this world falls rightside up anymore.
===
i learned to loose myself in crowds.
introduced to a youth camp 11 months later, i sang my first youth group song on aug. 28, ten years ago. no wonder these past few days have been nothing but trying for me. i'm reminiscing this all on my own. i learned more songs and learned to loose myself in crowds who spoke americanese. they said i hardly had an accent. how strange - i wonder where i learned to shed it.
i learned more songs and wondered if God really did intend me to live here. i heard nothing. i registered for a degree. i was asked to lead several functions. i learned and i cried, because he did.
i learned to loose myself in crowds.
===
11 months later, the crowds cheered ahead of me as i tried to remember things lost to me.
they called my every night just to do nothing and talk. i wondered if this was the equivalent of my leaving my friends and hanging out and doing nothing. phones were unheard of in my town in quezon city. they were merely requested, but rarely granted. 11 months later, i declined to join them a friend. i tinkered with instruments born to me. i played in the waning afternoons. i wrote my letters and hoped they'd write me back, too.
11 months later, i cried in confusion to the magic happening around me. why were people crying in unison? why were people loosing their voice to song? would this bring me back home? is this home?
yes. that's what that lady on stage said.
===
i learned to listen to people. pretty soon, i searched, i prayed for them to say something, anything to convince me what i wanted was true.
'we're opening this event to everyone. ...'
that did it. i possessed half a degree. i urged people to go home. i booked a ticket and, penniless, i went home.
===
the humidity embraced me like a stranger, suffocating.
the airport photographer shoved his camera in my face and snapped a blinding picture. my silver frames glared back at me while my tired face and disheveled hair stared back at me, suprised. but i still wish i'd bought the picture.
i wrapped my faith identity around me. i carried it like a shield. i wanted everyone to know that this was me, above and beyond call, this was who i am.
for having left and knowing how things evolve and how i revolve around things - it is never the other way around around - i needed something to anchor me. a nail. a ball and chain. something to remind me i was who i'd become, and yes, i am different.
'he he - si lisa,' my cousins cooed, joyfully. 'all grown up. umuwi.'
and they loaded a white van with a balikbayan box and a brown-trimmed black suitcase, and i knew, i knew, i was a stranger here.
===
travel, and incessantly. rolling ricefields ending at the foots of hills. truth and beauty everywhere. simple sins magnified large as the brown recluse spider, wide as my palm lain flat on the grass. blades sharp as thorns, soft as bedsheets, music and laughter that tug and caress at heartstrings. water, crystal and fresh as finest sparkling champagne.
no wonder we all broke after the trip. you can't learn trust without betrayal. you can't learn hope without faith, faith without jilting. you can't learn joy without pain. you can't learn forgiveness without loneliness. and you can't begin to dream again without risk.
===
you can't begin again without dreams.
and that's exactly what i did when i returned to the united states - my enrollment to a new school and a new life went so very smoothly, that i knew i was where i was meant to be. i immersed in my faith. i studied as much as i can. i succeeded in almost everything i did. i was different, but i was home.
===
you begin again without knowing it.
real work to me equals turbulence in my life. work suffered at the hands of me. it later improved when i learned to shed expectations, distractions, illusions and dreams. i worked and visited places. i worked and learned solitude. i worked and learned betrayal. i worked and learned the world.
i worked, and saw beauty reflected a different way. i was privy to what the world said about the things that happened around me. i witnessed things the way other people did - through media. my contributions blurred in wire copy and phone interview, in cropping the photo and web design. they made their way into the circlic streams of history.
===
i merged with the crowd and cried out for help. i hesitate to call it sucess, but in my perverse universe, that's what it was. i was living an existence almost envied by most. i was living a life i no longer recognize as mine.
i was lucky - they found me first, and in their eyes, i knew i was in trouble. they shoved back to my reality. and reality meant it was too late - and too soon. and reality meant it was too perverse - and too pretentious. the lies and the loves and the words and the worlds flew past me, torrential and incessant. they said it was time for another visit. everyone said, even everyone here, that i oughto. should. must go home.
and i always wonder.
¶ 9/01/2004 02:06:00 AM
the crushing detail right now is that no one seems to remember that today is the day we traded houses, realities, one for the other. no one seems to remember that a few days from today, supposedly, i'd run away in sunglasses after crying for home so desperately. sunglasses at 7 in the evening.
i had nowhere to go. i looked ahead and there it was - the public library. to this day libraries have been my refuge. the rows and rows of books always allowed me to escape.
libraries and gardens. i've become a total geek. if i don't get lost in a crowd, all collectively watching someone make fools of themselves for the sake of entertainment, i trample to gardens. one winter that froze the pavement in ice outside my mother's cousin's house, i slipped and fell on a patch of iced grass.
it was my first winter. an elderly woman, her face full of concern, called, "are you all right?" freaked me out. elderly women aren't supposed to be walking, especially if they were wrinkled and slightly stooped like that. but apparently in this new town we moved to, they did.
the world whirled around me and fell upside down - and in this new town, i thought appropriately so. i picked myself up and carefully trod to the bus stop to catch my dignity in class. in class, even my worst falls impress the class and my teachers. appropriately so - nothing in this world falls rightside up anymore.
===
i learned to loose myself in crowds.
introduced to a youth camp 11 months later, i sang my first youth group song on aug. 28, ten years ago. no wonder these past few days have been nothing but trying for me. i'm reminiscing this all on my own. i learned more songs and learned to loose myself in crowds who spoke americanese. they said i hardly had an accent. how strange - i wonder where i learned to shed it.
i learned more songs and wondered if God really did intend me to live here. i heard nothing. i registered for a degree. i was asked to lead several functions. i learned and i cried, because he did.
i learned to loose myself in crowds.
===
11 months later, the crowds cheered ahead of me as i tried to remember things lost to me.
they called my every night just to do nothing and talk. i wondered if this was the equivalent of my leaving my friends and hanging out and doing nothing. phones were unheard of in my town in quezon city. they were merely requested, but rarely granted. 11 months later, i declined to join them a friend. i tinkered with instruments born to me. i played in the waning afternoons. i wrote my letters and hoped they'd write me back, too.
11 months later, i cried in confusion to the magic happening around me. why were people crying in unison? why were people loosing their voice to song? would this bring me back home? is this home?
yes. that's what that lady on stage said.
===
i learned to listen to people. pretty soon, i searched, i prayed for them to say something, anything to convince me what i wanted was true.
'we're opening this event to everyone. ...'
that did it. i possessed half a degree. i urged people to go home. i booked a ticket and, penniless, i went home.
===
the humidity embraced me like a stranger, suffocating.
the airport photographer shoved his camera in my face and snapped a blinding picture. my silver frames glared back at me while my tired face and disheveled hair stared back at me, suprised. but i still wish i'd bought the picture.
i wrapped my faith identity around me. i carried it like a shield. i wanted everyone to know that this was me, above and beyond call, this was who i am.
for having left and knowing how things evolve and how i revolve around things - it is never the other way around around - i needed something to anchor me. a nail. a ball and chain. something to remind me i was who i'd become, and yes, i am different.
'he he - si lisa,' my cousins cooed, joyfully. 'all grown up. umuwi.'
and they loaded a white van with a balikbayan box and a brown-trimmed black suitcase, and i knew, i knew, i was a stranger here.
===
travel, and incessantly. rolling ricefields ending at the foots of hills. truth and beauty everywhere. simple sins magnified large as the brown recluse spider, wide as my palm lain flat on the grass. blades sharp as thorns, soft as bedsheets, music and laughter that tug and caress at heartstrings. water, crystal and fresh as finest sparkling champagne.
no wonder we all broke after the trip. you can't learn trust without betrayal. you can't learn hope without faith, faith without jilting. you can't learn joy without pain. you can't learn forgiveness without loneliness. and you can't begin to dream again without risk.
===
you can't begin again without dreams.
and that's exactly what i did when i returned to the united states - my enrollment to a new school and a new life went so very smoothly, that i knew i was where i was meant to be. i immersed in my faith. i studied as much as i can. i succeeded in almost everything i did. i was different, but i was home.
===
you begin again without knowing it.
real work to me equals turbulence in my life. work suffered at the hands of me. it later improved when i learned to shed expectations, distractions, illusions and dreams. i worked and visited places. i worked and learned solitude. i worked and learned betrayal. i worked and learned the world.
i worked, and saw beauty reflected a different way. i was privy to what the world said about the things that happened around me. i witnessed things the way other people did - through media. my contributions blurred in wire copy and phone interview, in cropping the photo and web design. they made their way into the circlic streams of history.
===
i merged with the crowd and cried out for help. i hesitate to call it sucess, but in my perverse universe, that's what it was. i was living an existence almost envied by most. i was living a life i no longer recognize as mine.
i was lucky - they found me first, and in their eyes, i knew i was in trouble. they shoved back to my reality. and reality meant it was too late - and too soon. and reality meant it was too perverse - and too pretentious. the lies and the loves and the words and the worlds flew past me, torrential and incessant. they said it was time for another visit. everyone said, even everyone here, that i oughto. should. must go home.
and i always wonder.
¶ 9/01/2004 02:06:00 AM
