- 30 -

Saturday, April 17, 2010

Thirty months ago, I was arguing strongly against me. I persistently wanted you to reconsider why you would want to say yes to a relationship with someone like me. Along Piy Margal, while sitting on dirt, and with an armory of discouragements, you still said yes anyway.

Thirty weeks ago, I was struggling with my political science thesis. I was arguing against the science in the political, until you walked me through Statistics. You believed in me. I was never the same - with a margin of error of ±3%.

Thirty days ago, I had troubles keeping up with my patience. I’m not the greatest at handling pressure from multiple angles. I spike, I crack, I breakdance, and I fart with no excuse. But you were always there. With love. With understanding.

Thirty hours ago, we were talking about our all-important future, like how many boxes of nachos to buy and how many salsa dips to go with it. Or like how many hours per day we’ll allocate to cuddling, studying, or playing Plants vs Zombies. Or like how many times we’re allowed to press the alarm snooze before getting out of bed.

Thirty minutes ago, we agreed to sleep the night away and wake up to the first day of the rest of our lives.

I’ll see you at 3 PM today, Honey. Walk some thirty steps down the aisle for me. I’ll be waiting at the other end, with the promise to not let you take a single step alone again. No margin of errors. No farting at will. No snooze.

———————-

In journalism, “-30-” is traditionally used to mark the end of an article or story.
We end a story; then we begin a new one.

palabas

Monday, February 16, 2009

“Isa kang anghel sa langit”

Sabi sa palabas na

pinanood ko kanina sa lobby;

Tumawa lang ako…

 

Pero ikaw sobrang natuwa;

“Ang sweet naman”

 

Magkaiba nga tayo ng mundo

Mayaman ka, mahirap

Ako

 

Gusto mo yung mga kending

pula sa tindahang bato

Gusto ko ung isaw na

itim sa baga dun sa kanto

 

Fan ka ni Nietzsche at Mao

Fan mo ako

 

Kilala ka ng lahat sa

Kolehiyo; sinudundan ng tingin  ng mga

Kaklase’t propesor mo

 

Kinang ko nama’y singsing mo lang…

 

Isang editor ng ating dyaryo na

Iniisnab basahin ng mga kabaro mo

Iilang tao lang ang kilala ako

 

Iba talaga ang mundo mo…

 

“Gusto kita”

Sabi ko sa mga mata mong

nanonood ng palabas sa lobby;

(…tinawanan niya ako)

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

© Ian Pestelos, circa 2002

hard fingers

Sunday, December 21, 2008

I am disappointed with my writing. This blog is supposed to enhance my skills in the art, but for the past 4 months it seemed like I am over-exerting the effort to create a single entry. I really don’t pre-plan for topics to write about; whenever I open this page, I wait for my hungry fingers to work on the keys to cook the perfect soup of the day. That was the plan: spontaneity. But so far all I can think about is that its really not working for me. I guess I can never have the perfect soup recipe anytime I want.

But then after giving much thought, I’m usually able to write better, faster, in a very spontaneous manner when I am low, sad, depressed, challenged, fired up, or pissed off. Not to imply that I don’t get to feel those things anymore, but perhaps I just found a way to pile up such negative emotions in a single box that I will leave at my gate at the end of the day, before I retire to this life in megabytes per second. That’s actually good, right? Could I attribute this to maturity? Well, actually, I’m thinking of ‘old age’.

Perhaps I should look for more motivation than negative emotions (and software manuals, lol) in order to write with ease and with passion. The only problem is, I am boring. I am detached. I always rethink the idea of fun which complicates things. And most of the time, I am stoic…

…which could probably explain why technical writing works for me
…and why I became a news editor in College, not for features
…and why my fingers get harder to work with every writing day.

evolution

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

I finally decided to let go of some of my writings (poems, essays, papers etc), written when I was a lot youger, and publish it here in my blog. Here’s the first one. This one is not on my favorites list though.

_____________

 …Coincidence
Encounter
Illusion
Sex
Conception
Engagement
Marriage
Birth
Parenthood
Care
Love
Home

And some things
     Change,
     Evolve,
     Never last…

Drugs
Hallucination
Greed
Tension
Dominance
Force
Death
Apathy
Disillusionment
Neglect
Separation
House

…

 _____________

 Written sometime in 2002. 

how does a chicken pee?

Sunday, November 16, 2008

When I was in 2nd year High School, I remember having a conversation with one of my classmates about how a chicken pee. We don’t recall ever seeing a chicken sits down or raises one leg to get rid of bodily fluids, so we tried to open a number of encyclopedias and biology books at the school library down the hall to satisfy this sudden curiosity. The last 15-minute ‘recess’ of the day was spent browsing through pages; no answer was found. On our way back, we argued about possibilities and speculations. Even without a concrete answer, it was the most productive 2-minute walk back to room 211 of Notre Dame of Greater Manila. We got the answer from our biology teacher. Years later, my chicken pee discussion buddy became one of my best friends, in the literal sense.

That chicken pee question became some sort of an indication for me of a person’s imagination and conversationability (for the lack of a better term that i can think of at the moment). I usually ask new ‘close friends’ in high school and college about this, and somehow I didn’t get to be closer to those who simply just don’t want to talk about it. I always thought that it was some starting point of more fruitful, imaginative, intellectual or funny conversations. Well, maybe some people don’t think of it that way. Waste of time? To some, maybe. But definitely not mine.

I used the question even on dates, friendly or romantic. It turned out that those who can talk and laugh about it with me brings more life and magic to the table. I am actually currently spending more than a year of commitment with a woman who can make the conversation both intellectual and outrageously funny, be it about ideas, events, people, or chicken.

I enjoy conversations, even debates. And it seemed like I have a short connection lifespan with people I don’t get to talk about chicken and peeing combined. It’s not intentional by the way; its just it seemed to be like that. If only I’m a psychology major, I would have used it for my thesis.

Well then, how does a chicken pee? Think about it, and then maybe let’s talk.

detached

Sunday, October 5, 2008

That’s what I am - detached.Somehow I managed to live life through without really being significantly attached to people, to family, to friends. I have always had that kind of distance to whoever I meet, except maybe for a handful of people that I can assign to every finger in my hands. That’s all there is to it: ten, or less.
It’s not deliberate, I should say. It may be because of upbringing, or schooling, or environment, or a million other sorts. It may even be because of UP, to whom I always attribute my schematic (even programmatic) approach to situations. But then again what’s the use of finding a reason - or an excuse, if you may - for things that you want to change? And then again, who cares?

Me. For all the wrong and right reasons, I care for not having cared of so many lives that lived through my existence, even for a while. I’m a dead man walking, if not for the very few who knew I existed in the existential sense of the word. I avoided so many opportunities to get in touch with the past, present, and future because of other more important things as I have personally defined it. It’s not regret, mind you, but a certain feeling of what-ifs that could have been life-changing.

I like where I am now, but there are certain feelings of loss inside that tells me that I need to live life more than how I live it now. Last night I was with old friends, who I could have avoided in exchange of money-and-energy-saving reasons. But you know what? It’s worth every dime. One gram less of that detached feeling.

I know its not everyday that you get to feel the need to knock yourself off your comfort zone, but then it was practically me who’s setting that zone, that limit. When you have found the perimeter that somehow fits perfectly for you, you start to get that feeling that that’s all there is to it. You create your life around it, build houses around it, walk and run within it, and live your life through it. Where’s the fun in that? I may be really not a very good risk-taker, I’m just good at justifying that the risks I’m taking are practical - when in fact they are just risks that fall within my perimeter.

Maybe it’s useful to detach, but this time I should try detaching from the mindset that made you detach from other things… and there’s just one way to find out.