A Walk in the Clouds

And while my heart feels that I could still see him -that he's just there travelling somewhere, I know it real hard that he's already gone. That he already left us. I believed that for me to find peace and to break the silence, I need to cry it out.

A month after my father's death I headed back to Singapore and took this shot over an airplane view.

Like Cheryl Eckl's quote, "death, while not easy, can be beautiful and that love is, indeed, eternal", the grief I am feeling right now being the worst and most difficult thing to get by has given me many epiphanies to live on. The earnest of all intuitions include the understanding of the evident context of loss and and the dent significance of consanguinity or let alone a family.

"Dad, I want you to know that I am sorry if I ever did fail you. Please hear me in saying that the dreams you had for me have not yet shattered."

"I love you, dad. Someday when this life of mine is over, I will see you again. I miss you." 
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first published on flyingburger.blogspot.com and on facebook Nov. 15, 2012 

Carlo

 Waking up begins with ‘am’ and ‘now’. For the past days waking up has actually been hurting. The cold realization that I am still here thinking about him slowly sets in. I was never good in waking up. I was never one to jump out of bed and greet the day with a smile unlike him.

I took the photo -one of those days we were strolling.

 I remember I would want to punch him or humour his amiable existence whenever I get pass by him at work for being so happy. In my mind I thought that only fools cold possibly escape bitter realities. But perhaps he was never bitter.

I also have told him that I used not to know him like that being so attractive and refine. He wasn’t that much admirable like when I first met him. He used to be so aloof or atleast that’s how I saw him the first time.

 As time goes, I have grown fond of him. I’ve began to emulate his philosophies and I’ve started liking what he loved doing. From there I knew he was a dreamer. His ideas are modern and wise. Most times, he thinks too deeply and is annoyingly quiet.

 I’ve began seeing another kind of beauty in living being with him. It was nothing but happier. Not that we were together or that we were soulfully attached but we were tight. Sometimes I thought I was losing it –my sanity. I knew I could never really care for him that much. After all, he’s a guy –a married one. But that’s probably the most thing that I adored about him, being such a good father.

 But the past days were such a calling. I don’t know. And I wouldn’t really know. I’ve seen signs of his caress but it outweighed the very fact that it may not be for me. I realized that I may have been alone on this. And actually, I know I’ve always been alone. It’s just that when he came I imagined I had another soul.

 He drifted away.

 I guess I am writing this because I wanted to keep him as part of the good memories. For people like me who sails through life; this kind of affection may come once or twice in a lifetime if I am lucky.    

 I could never make moments last. I cling to them, but like everything, they fade. I've lived my life with these moments. Though they pull me back to the present and I realized that everything is exactly the way it's meant to be. I could care less about what I truly feel but I thought caring afterall is a beautiful thing. I guess this time I just have to echo back differently. For whatever its worth, what I have gathered are wonderful thoughts and I'll keep 'em here in my heart forever.     

'from flyingburgers to shit & things'

I wonder how script writers and novelists made their way towards the creation of an appealing storyline. Not that everything we see or read nowadays is incredible. But in most cases they are and that they keep up with the changing time. There have been a lot of stories that made me roar in wonder. It is therefore realistically amazing how one writer connects his or her ideas together to form an effective and enjoyable plot. And what's more stunning to me are those stories that doesnt have clear real life patterns. Like the ones created just by bare imagination. Tolkien & Rowling's adventure books that tackle witchcraft & wizardry for instance. I wonder how they started envisioning those things? These two have authored books with stories that never really happen in real life. In those books they have accorded specific terms to every scene, every activity and every character to depict a certain culture that needed to be portrayed. How they formulated vague ideas and how they made it grande must have had a lot of propelling from their minds like they never run out of a thought in expounding the every detail of those terms they coined. That made me think that they may have lived their lives differently from us -having eccentric perceptions and bold senses. Or who knows, I suspect that maybe what they have written were their real life's troubling experiences -doing very very uncommon practices, hiding out the truth that they are real witches and wizards themselves..

Anyway, uncommon practices in several cultures are no longer considered hard earned news. In fact, instead of seeing them on primetime reports and on newspapers, they now comprise the entertainment page of every magazine and tv show. Like those seen on tv documentaries featuring stuff like live exorcism and real people experiencing ghost, these now have become of less interest to viewers. And while the society begins to adopt and understand these new behaviors, the media continues their effort to search and deliver whatever they think would be of interest to the audience. Even those really weird practices by people from other territories are now televised to entertain the audience. I remember a group of people from the PRC who believed that a soup made of a dead womb would cure illnesses gained so much criticism. There was also this clip of an ad for a shower gel showing women bathing nude in public with soap bubbles covering their bodies seducingly asking the men to try the gel and rub it through them. These things only showed that our world doesnt stop reinventing itself and it is only up to us on whether we open up ourselves to the new concepts that will again redefine what we already established as social norms.

Oh yeah, even we Pnoys have emerged to accepting new changes around us. Although we are still trapped in an era of Catholicism, the majority of the society is no longer a lap dog. We now have learned to voice out our opinions loudly and we no longer hesitate to criticize; we dont condone fighting but we agree to do it fiercely when needed; not only that we continued hoping and dreaming, we also have began trying harder to soar higher than ever. We have evolved. And maybe that change is also the very reason why most of us have come to learn and appreciate this new tv show with a theme that we once considered socially disgusting and immorally upright. Although it is possible that there are still lots of people against it, probably millions of them -the fact remains that having it broadcasted on national television is a giant leap towards gender equality. Whew! I am actually talking about GMA's 'My Husband's Lover".

Saying all these made me hungry!! I wish there is really a thing like that of a flyingburger where we could just shout and ask and it would come. And hopefully it wont limit itself to just burgers -to include flying-chocobars, flying-ice creams, flying-softdrinks and flying-anything. Surely if that happens, we would be hearing everyone around us shouting with their voices reverberting and that lots and lots of small things are endlessly flying. Hahaha! In any case, even if I am granted hundreds of wishes, I wont really fancy asking this kind of a wish, not even a slight chance at the very end. I think it is pathetic. I think that the all time favorite wish list that we always hear in a fantasy movie and in a cartoon show is still the best, that's classic you see.

Oh shit, I'm still hungry. Imagining all those things made my stomach grr. Omg! If there is just any food here to eat, anything at all, whatever that may be, I would have swallowed it already... But why is it that suddenly I remember those exotic Thai foods. It's in my head. Eww. My mind is currently painting that push cart we saw the last time we were in Bangkok selling exotic Thai food which mostly are cooked in a fryer with that oil strainer. Omg! It's all in my head now -all deep fried items -scorpions, grasshoppers, ants, lizards, frogs, beetles and more. Oh God! I clearly remember them all. Eww. I wanna puke now.

Well atleast I never had to see them cooking something really really disgusting, something that I always hear back then. I dont know if this happens normally to everyone but whenever I'm with my Bisdak friends talking about random stuff that we could think about, we always end up talking about 'shit'.. And when that happens we kinda stop. Hahaha!

So yeah, we just did that and now we better stop. Lol

___________________________________
this is how I went into liking 'flyingburger' as pen name.
first published on facebook June 29, 2013.

Life Vs. Happyness - An Instant Thought

28 years and still I am driving my way towards knowing my purpose in life. Does this really happen to everyone? Does life itself loses its meaning? I'm damned again. Haha! With those lofty years, I have conceived that the actions I made set things in motion. I may not know those parts that suppose to happen yet did not and its preempted underlying; and those that should not yet have taken its course -But hell I know, -I'm living one right one, the result of the choices I've made during the last 28yrs.

Maybe it's a gift that we all will never know tomorrow's history unless we live with it. To some, they may find the cycle of life an unending scheme of trouble and sorrow. But to those of us who beautifully sees the imperfection of things, definitely a day's gone by is a memory to keep, a treasure for a lifetime. To the others who believed that a day will never be without an ascent of the sun in the horizon, I guess they're the most hopeful ones. As I deeply fathom my heart's real intent in writing this article, I realized that I too, is doubtlessly losing it. It's funny though that at the end of every tiring trail, I always look back finding ways to comfort myself. I guess I was just hanging around to the thought that I am sane enough to convince myself that whatever and wherever this thing may go, I'm on it all the way. To top it all, I think that the logic behind the word 'happyness' is very complicated and the simplest way to attain it at most times if not all is to focus ourselves to what really makes us smile. Right? Now, you're smiling! Haha:)

My Poor Return

Suddenly I have been getting these literary outpour that I can't contain. I don't know why, I just really feel like writing. At times though when I start to joggle my fingers and type, I lose my senses in the middle leaving the article half attended. I also notice that I have become a writer of few words. The worst thing -I tend to forget that 'it' word to complete a statement.

This is not really something that hugely bothers me. But hopefully I'd get away and find that part of me that really yearns to write. Maybe I just need a peaceful mind in a day to start writing. As I imagine myself, I would probably need an office desk with a chair where I can work alone. More bond papers & a nice ballpoint pen would be perfect. 

Now this is boring literature. Anyway, I am just making a statement. Aish! Skip and move! I am leaving.

'POSTSCRIPTS TO A BLOODBATH'

*Media confirms that there is no survivor named Bang Lu Min. This account is fiction.

Mr. Mendoza was already upset even before he saw on television what the policemen did to his brother. The other tourists who remained inside the bus were complaining. Wei Ji Jiang wanted to go to the bathroom. Dao Chi Yu was hungry and the rest were just groaning and whining like they have forgotten that our lives rest in Mr. Mendoza’s hands.

The hostage taker, as you know him was really nice. He treated us okay and even let the elders and the children leave the bus. He said your policemen treated him unfairly. He was a policeman too and was accused of doing something he had no knowledge of. But your government didn’t listen so he used us to get everyone’s attention. Things would have never turned for the worst if he didn’t see how his family was dragged out of their house and taken into custody. He was watching the news all the time as we huddled around each other behind the bus. He shouted some words in your language then started shooting in the air. A girl about my age started screaming. Mr. Mendoza demanded her to stop but she didn’t understand English. God, he had to slash her neck with a knife just to put her to rest. Her boyfriend who tried to hit him was shot in the head. Tension was rising.

You can see in his face how scared and confused he was. The bus driver ran away leaving him alone with strangers from a distant land. I can see him walking across the aisle, sometimes pointing his machine gun to one of the tourists. But he tried his best not to hurt us, especially those who really cooperate. I guess its in your nature not to inflict pain on others unless it was necessary. I remember him saying that he will free us before sundown and implored us to forget everything when we return home. But his words don’t matter now. The policemen were trying to force their way in, while we all lied down to shield ourselves from bullets. Mister Mendoza blindly shoots at his enemies which I think kept them from rescuing us. I hear sobs under the chairs. Some were even shouting the names of their loved ones even when the air merely eat their words. Kevin Tang tried to escape when the glass door was was shattered, but one shot and he slumped on the floor with blood gushing from his mouth. Heavy rain pitter-pattered on the rooftop. In old Chinese saying, it means an end to a struggle. Finally, somebody was able to open the escape hatch at the back of the bus. Freedom. But I knew Mister Mendoza was still alive. I knew he was just waiting for a chance to strike back at his enemies. So I told those around me not to escape. Let the authorities come for us instead.

Then there was gunfire. He was firing at his enemies with a machine gun. Those who were at the escape hatch fled abandoning us once again. It’s like a nightmare with no end and to wake up means a certain death. Then somebody from outside the bus threw a canister. It forced out a black smoke that is so painful to the eyes and putrid smelling to the nose. People started screaming. We cannot breathe. Some ran in front of the bus but Mister Mendoza warned them of stray bullets. It was too late. One was hit on the head, the other was hit on the shoulders. Bullets were now flying. Its like the authorities thought we were all dead. Mister Mendoza finally admits his mistake and said sorry to everyone, dead or alive. He then ran towards the front of the bus where he would meet his maker. As he passed by my chair with bullets whistling overhead, I clutched my hand on the velvet curtain and wrapped it around my face. All I could think of was to stay alive - for my child who is waiting for me back in Xinjang. I know I will survive, I will come home.

Bang Lu Min, Survivor, Quirino Bloodbath

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"Remarkably believable to me. But nevertheless, even if this was pure fiction, all the actions said are real enough narrating the mere possibilities of the consequences that the Philippine Defense took to ease the crisis." Just me - Jede

People Like Us

I always wonder why people admire other people. I mean in my case I have always wished I lived a different life like 'them'. For people like me who loves to dream, I think that's all I could do to make things happen.