The One That Got Away

“…the one you first kissed, the one you first loved, the one you lost your virginity to, the one you put on a pedestal… the one that got away.”

This just hits the right spot and my heart does ache. I wanted to write something similar but all I have been right now is a big jumble of extreme emotions. Now this article returns to me, after having first read it 8 years ago, and it speaks the same thoughts I want to convey at this moment.

I hope it’s not too late for me. I hope I learn – about love and life, enough to make me not lose someone. I don’t want to have someone that got away.

“…I guess it’s that person with who everything was great, everything was perfect, but the timing was just wrong. There was no fault in the person, there was no flaw in the chemistry, but the cards just didn’t fall the right way, I suppose.”

kriscrossing

By: Mark J. Macapagal, The Manila Times

In your life, you’ll make note of a lot of people. Ones with whom you shared something special, ones who will always mean something. There’s the one you first kissed, the one you first loved, the one you lost your virginity to, the one you put on a pedestal, the one you’re with …and the one that got away.

Who is the one that got away?

I guess it’s that person with who everything was great, everything was perfect, but the timing was just wrong. There was no fault in the person, there was no flaw in the chemistry, but the cards just didn’t fall the right way, I suppose. I believe in the fact that ending up with someone, finding a long time partner that is, does not lie merely in the other person. I can actually argue that an equal part…

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On New Years, each year

I have had 23 New Year’s Eves so far, and only remember about 16. I can divide these 16 years into two halves, based on how I spent it – the first half all spent at home and the other half variable, depending on where I stay during NYE.

I’ve always thought the conventional Filipino way of celebrating is… cozy; it’s traditional and homey. When I was still in primary school, I thought it was how everyone in the world celebrated. My father would buy firecrackers, not fireworks because mainly they just crack my eardrums. They’re as loud as explosives and potentially fatal, and the whole block would end up with smokes because almost each house would have their own share of explosions. And this is why I never was so keen on firecrackers unlike our neighbor’s kids or most classmates. My mother made me wear polka dots and red dresses. My sister and I would also jump as high as I can so I could grow taller (currently I am 5ft 2in and the only growth I’ll ever have is sideways). In our hands were coin jars that clanged and jingled as I shook it vigorously, hoping for a prosperous year. Continue reading

The Lights at Pinaglabanan Street

Two days ago I took my new old Nikon for it’s 2nd official field test, aiming to understand a little about Manual settings. It was already late so I had no choice but to take the photos with not much light, but it’s a good thing it’s Christmas time! I was excited because I had just read a refresher on shutter speed, aperture, and ISO settings. The only thing left was to know which buttons to press to adjust these because I was too lazy to download the user guide.

After several takes and trial and errors, I finally achieved acceptable shots. However, I admit that these shots are pretty mediocre haha! I got hungry and needed to go home, but I learned a few lessons. Continue reading

Wiwi, the rescued kitty

We always had cats at home in the province. We never bought these cats though, they just suddenly appear in front of the house and we feed them. Afterwards they choose to stay and have their kittens, and that’s how we begun to own generations of cats starting with the single ‘Mother Miming’.

So while in Manila, I always miss our pets. I have both cats and a dog. We used to have chickens too haha! So one afternoon last July I suddenly told my mother that I wanted to adopt a kitten. By serendipity my mother saw at the same day several kittens on the sidewalk at our street. She wanted o take them all but was hesitant ’cause there were like 6 of them. We decided to go get those poor kitties but when we got to the place where they were thrown, we only saw one kitty. Another white one was sadly already dead 😥

We took that one kitty and decided to raise him ourselves. He was just a cutie tiny tiny kitty back then. Now 4 months later, he’s such a grown up cat who loves to run and jump and playfully bite me.

001 Continue reading

Somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond

There is this poem that I first heard in a song. It was spoken so beautifully by this masculine voice that ever since the first time I heard it, I loved that piece of poetry. I was still twelve years old then but already a hopeless romantic. The words were so captivating, but I never knew what it’s title was nor who the author is. Four years later in college, during one of my classes, I encountered the author E. E. Cummings. We were made to read his work entitled “pity this busy monster, manunkind”. His style was different and when I saw his other works, I recognized a familiar line. I felt like I found something very special.

ee cummings (as he wants his name written) is one notable poet with such a style you can’t say classic. Here’s the poem in how it is actually written. It is such a beauty!

Somewhere I have never
travelled, gladly beyond

somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gestures are things which enclose me,
or which I cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though I have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, I and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(I do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

In case you are wondering what the song was, it’s called “The First Time I Loved Forever”. Now let me suggest for you to play this song and read the poem again 🙂

Changed

Changed
~ H.W. Longfellow

FROM the outskirts of the town,
Where of old the mile-stone stood,
Now a stranger, looking down
I behold the shadowy crown
Of the dark and haunted wood.

Is it changed, or am I changed?
Ah! the oaks are fresh and green,
But the friends with whom I ranged
Through their thickets are estranged
By the years that intervene.

Bright as ever flows the sea,
Bright as ever shines the sun,
But alas! they seem to me
Not the sun that used to be,
Not the tides that used to run.

Faces

This is a celebration of faces;

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Of childhood and innocence;

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of discovering simple joys;

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of friendship

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and contentment, oblivious of the world’s sorrows.

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This is a celebration of transient smiles,
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fading as fast as it was given.
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This is a celebration of creativity;
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of motion
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and emotion.
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A celebration of living day to day
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uncertain, but still moving on
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because it is going to be fine.
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We jump in, that’s life
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and this is a celebration
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