Posts tagged ramblings.

You know what sucks? It’s knowing you could have said something to change the situation, but deciding not to because, for some ridiculous reason, you’ve decided that it’s a much better option for you to just shut your mouth to avoid further complications. It’s just so incredibly frustrating knowing that all those pent-up words are never going to be heard because you chose not to open your mouth and let them loose. It’s one of the worst feelings and it sucks so much with a burning passion. It’s like a gigantic mass has been lodged deep into your throat, restricting your stagnated words from freely escaping and frolicking on everyone’s gentle earlobes, so your words just stay there, unmoved and properly decaying until it becomes nothing more than a current of air making its exit through the nose.

You know what else sucks? It’s knowing that everyone you’ve ever trusted—everyone you’ve ever believed in—doesn’t even trust you enough to express your words and ideas, so you just sit stiffly still on your chair along with the rest of the crowd whose minds may or may not have been clouded with the same string of thoughts extensively parading on your mind at that very instant.

But the worst degree of suckage has got to be knowing that speaking up could bring about a whole variety of different results (some good, some extremely bad). It could bolster your reputation and just as easily bring it down in a snap. It could win you the favor of everyone around you, but it could also cause the “higher powers” to throw you looks of caustic rage and utter disappointment. It could mean a general spike in the number of people you would please, but it could also beget something bad for your endeavors (specifically your scholarly ventures).

And knowing you could have done a whole lot more than just idly sit there adds so much more to the dilemma because all you had to do was just open your mouth, disregard the looks people might throw at you, let out your words, and just simply speak.

For the Love of the Lovers of Books

Nothing is more refreshing to me than being in a bookshop that is severely crowded with books and people.

While some might be pained by the thought of being crammed in a bookshop with a constantly growing crowd, I bask in the simple joy and pleasure of it. It enlightens me when I see individuals rapidly probing through shelves lined with books, or seeing others wholly arrested with focus on the books in their hands. It lifts my spirits to know that I am in a room full of furrowed brows, pursed lips, and gathered thoughts all dedicated to that paperback or hardbound they’ve set their sights on. It gives me joy to know that I belong here, and that I share a sense of commonality with these individuals whose interests have been deeply seized by the books.

It’s such an uplifting scene and I can’t help but want to approach each one of them and give them a wholehearted pat on the back for choosing to splurge their time on books. I’ve contemplated on doing this, but I’m afraid I’ll break the “literary trance” they’re under (which may or may not be an excuse for the fact that they might shoot me strange looks for my unusual act). 

So I flash them a smile instead—one that I share with them even if they don’t notice it. A smile that stretches the ends of my lips to its limits until it hurts, but it hurts in a good way. A smile that vastly exudes the genuine gratefulness I, along with the books’ authors, feel towards them. A smile that denotes how I am more than willing to give each and every one of them something more than a smile or a pat on the back for taking the time off their schedules (that might be extremely busy) to visit the local bookstore, open a book and skim through its pages. 

So, if by some chance you catch me in a bookshop smiling at you from out of the blue, know that I am not scrutinizing you or checking you out in the creepiest possible way, but rather, I am showing you how proud I am that you chose books, and you chose the bookshop out of the many places to dillydally, and you chose to notice the steadfast smile plastered on my face. And I’ll be crossing my fingers, hoping, that you flash me back a smile as well.

My Pants and My Attached Feelings

I have this peculiar pair of trousers that I constantly wear when I’m required to wear pants to go out (Case in point: going to school in civilian attire). I have a good number of pants in my closet, but I always pick my slightly worn-out pants due to the fact that I’ve been greatly accustomed to the way it comfortably wraps around my thighs, it goes along with anything I wear, and it’s gray (which is one of my favorite colors).

It has been a habit of mine to slip on my ever so slightly worn-out, gray pants during occasions when I need pants, and it irks my mom. It annoys her so much to see me in my bland, dull, tar-looking pants to the point where she has bribed me with more pants just so I would stop wearing my favorite gray pants. She always berates me about my pants—how it’s so old and how it looks so tight around my legs (when it actually doesn’t). Then again, my mom can sometimes be so condescending and nagging about all the little things that tends to bother her (a speck of dust on the kitchen floor or me not answering her cellphone calls even when I’m in class).

Nowadays, I haven’t been wearing my favorite pair of pants just to stop my mom from instantly snapping at the sight of it. My mom has pleaded with me to sell, give away, or even throw away my pants, but I wouldn’t dare. I’ve grown so attached to it that I couldn’t bear to let it go, even if it has a strange-looking stain by the thigh.

So maybe you’re like my favorite pair of gray pants. Even though people are frequently telling me to move on, I just can’t let you go. You’ve firmly left a blotch around my thighs heart that’s so hard to erase, and I’m okay with that. I’m okay with the fact that you’re just there, free and idle. And maybe I can’t let you go because it will hurt knowing that someone, someday, will ultimately wear you so much more better than I did, and my closet will feel so bare without having my favorite pair of pants hanging there anymore. And when that time comes, I guess I’ll have to find me a new pair of pants by then—one that hopefully doesn’t get on my mom’s nerves. 


With eyes closed and a mind more open than ever, I envision a life of ease. A life spent nonchalantly sipping a hot, soothing cup of Earl Grey tea, while stationed by the creek, with my back against an aged tree. A life spent smiling with full fanfare at all that has been accomplished in retrospect. A life where I can proudly say, “This right here is where my years of hard work has brought me, and it has paid off very well.”

I open my eyes, and everything scrambles into focus. I emphatically affix my gaze at the luxurious estate that towers over me and the alarmingly growing number of books that are clearly piling up in my study. “This is surreal,” I say, awestruck, “this is surreal, but it’s all mine.” I am in complete and utter bliss. Tomorrow, I leave for England and I am filled with unbridled enthusiasm at just the thought of it. I’ve yet to board the plane, but I can truly say that I have landed. I’ve landed a good life, and I’m fully and finally contented with the now.

Dad, mom, and I. 

Happy Father’s Day, dad! I couldn’t find a decent picture of the two of us together, so I used this instead. I think it’s a great picture of the three of us. Anyway, thank you for everything, dad! I don’t think I’ve earnestly expressed how entirely thankful and happy I am to be your son. Although it may seem like I’m irked at your constant jabs at comedy while we’re in a large crowd of people, I am actually proud that you are hilarious and entertaining. I can’t thank you enough for covering for me sometimes when mom won’t allow me to go to some places. You’ve been very supportive of my endeavors and decisions and I thank you all the more for that. Thank you for everything, dad! I love you so much! ☺