Unfaithful

My friends and I had dinner and spontaneously decided to watch Last Night (Keira Knightley, Sam Worthington). The ladies were looking forward to another rom-com treat and were surprised by the underlying theme of the movie - infidelity. The film was also dark and open-ended, which they found disturbing.

They decided to have an impromptu discussion on betrayal over a round of drinks. I generally don't enjoy participating in such discourses, but it was interesting to hear the opinions of people with different relationship statuses:

Single Ladies: They were the most idealistic of the group. They were absolute in their belief that infidelity, be it physical or emotional, was unforgivable. When I asked if they thought they were capable of cheating, they all responded with disgust. Prudes.

Married Ladies: Earlier in their marriages, they were as idealistic as their single counterparts. As they matured in their relationships, they realized they have the capacity for (and would extend) forgiveness. They could not articulate why but claimed it was not because of the children, money, or fear of growing old alone.

Married Men: They understandably had no opinion, as the wives were there. Smart move. Maybe I should have invited them to Genie for a follow through discussion. They have forgiving wives anyway.

Single Men: I was alone in this group, but unbeknownst to the others, I was part of the "married" groups.

I have not faced this dilemma in my current relationship, but I am with the married ladies on this. And like them, I find it hard to explain why I can forgive what the singles view as an affront to the relationship and myself. People may disagree, but maybe an aged relationship is like an old black and white photograph, where everything in the picture is now just different shades of gray.

photo credit: advocate.com

Homebody

Tulog na siya. Nakainom ng kaunti at napagod.

Madaling-araw na kasi nang ako'y makauwi. Ilang araw kaming di nagkita kaya't pareho kaming excited. Alanganin na nga lang ang oras para gumayak pa at lumabas ng bahay para mag-celebrate. Nagbukas na lang ako ng bote ng alak, at masaya kaming nagkwentuhan.

Nagpatugtog din ako ng club music mula sa aking telepono. Para na rin kaming nasa bar kako. May mga pinindot siya rito at nalipat sa aming mga speakers ang masayang tugtog. Ramdam mo ang bawat kabog. Nice. Mahilig siya sa gadgets at nagpapakitang gilas ang loko.

Tumayo siya at nagsimulang umindak. Natawa ako. Pinatay ko ang ilang ilaw para mas akma ang ambiance, bago sumabay sa kanyang galaw, sayaw, kanta, tawa. Dalawang mukhang tanga, medyo lasing, at parang kung anong tinira. Parehong masaya kapag magkasama.

Umupo ako sa kaniyang tabi, inuubos ang natitirang alak bago umidlip. Para kaming mag-asawang may edad na. Simple ang buhay, kuntento na kahit nasa bahay. Dahil naniniwala kami na ang isang pangkaraniwang araw o gabi, kadalasan ay siya pa ngang nagiging bukod-tangi.

photo credit: bedstory.blogspot.com

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Message in a Bottle

I was standing at the beach, facing the water, feeling small under the windmills that churned in unison. I willed them to reel you in with their invisible force. I waited, but all that came, taunting me, was the wind.

The wind was relentless, and my shirt fluttered, as tattered wings do, behind me. I closed my eyes and flew, lifted to the same sky that we still share. My arms reached out in anticipation, my feet anchored to the sand by the weight of my shadow.

I stood at the edge of the water, just barely beyond its reach, and stared into the distance. I can't see you from here, I whispered. I walked along the shore, picking up pieces I'd show you, leaving behind with each step a solitary trail.

photo credit: flickr.com - &ndie

Binusog

(Dahil maraming iniisip, marami ring nagbabalik na alaala mula sa nakaraan.)

Malamig ang tubig na dumadausdos sa aking katawan, ngunit di nito mapawi ang init na aking nararamdaman. Mula sa kabilang panig ng nakapagitang salamin, pinagmasdan ko ang kanyang aninag na naghihintay, nakatutok sa TV habang nakaupo sa kama.

Pagkatuyo ng sarili sa di na kaputiang twalya, tinawid ko nang nakayapak ang madilim na kwarto. Sa bawat hakbang, kumapit ang dumi ng sahig sa aking hubad na mga paa.  Tumabi ako sa kaniya at binasa ang nakatatak na pangalan sa nagninisnis nang kobre kama.

Tahimik naming sinimulan ang dahilan ng aming pagparito. Pinagmasdan ko kaming dalawa. Na nasa ulunan ng kama. Sa gilid nito. Sa kisame. Nagmamadali. Hanggang sa ako ay malito kung sino ang sino, at nangibabaw ang singaw ng init sa lamig ng aircon.

May natitira pang oras, pero nagbihis na siya at nagpaalam. Nagsindi ako ng sigarilyo, ngunit di napawi ang natitirang gutom. Umorder ako, at saglit lang at ito'y naubos. Pinagmasdan ko ang magulong kama, ang nasimot na pagkain, ang upos ng sigarilyo.

Parang may kulang pa rin.

photo credit: roblang.photoshelter.com

Mamang Buwan

Mamang Buwan, bilog ka na naman. Tahimik at nagmamasid mula sa kalawakan. Bigla ka raw lumapit, at ang tanong ng ilan ay bakit. Para ba tingnan ang mga pangyayari, ang mga trahedyang di namin mawari. Sa bansang may bandila na kung saan, ang imahe mo sa puting langit ay duguan.

Lahat sa iyo nakatingala, at sa liwanag mo ay namangha. Marami ang mga nangangarap na magkasintahan, na sana'y pagapalain mo ang kanilang pagmamahalan. Ngunit ilan rin naman sa kanila ay nanghilakbot. Dahil panibagong trahedya raw ba ang iyong idudulot.

Mamang Buwan, bilog ka na naman. Ako man ay tumingala upang ikaw ay pagmasdan. Pagpapala ba o pagkapinsala ang aking susunguin. Ang paglisan nga ba dito ang dapat kong piliin. Ang aking munting hiling, iyong kagandahan, bigyang liwanag para sa akin ang tamang daan.

photo credit: ideagirlconsulting.wordpress.com

Basta't Tayo'y Magkasama

Dinatnan ko ang bahay na madilim, walang tao. Hindi pa dumarating ang aking asawa mula sa sariling lakad. Binuksan ko ang ilaw. Matagal itong nag-uumandap bago nakapagpakalat ng malamlam nitong liwanag. Hindi pa rin namin ito pinapalitan, dahil maghintay ka lang at mas lumiliwanag rin ito.

Ilang linggo ko nang pinag-iisipang tigilan na ang pagiging isang maybahay. Nakipagkita ako kanina sa isang kaibigan na may inihaing posibleng trabaho. Magandang pagkakataon, pero nasa kabilang sulok ng mundo. Napansin niya ang aking pag-aalinlangan, kaya't pag-isipan ko raw muna ito.

Sa pagsasama naming mag-asawa, ilang beses na rin kaming napadpad sa iba't-ibang lugar. May mga pagkakataong siya ang sumama sa akin, at merong ako sa kaniya. Malayo man sa pamilya, lagi pa rin kaming magkasama. Ngunit kailangan niyang pumirmi ngayon dito, nang maalagaan ang sakiting ama.

Pero gusto nga ba naming masuong sa ganitong uri ng pagsubok? At may kabuluhan pa ba ang salitang pagsasama para sa dalawang magkalayo? Malungkot ang aking paligid dala ng matamlay na ilaw. Umupo akong mag-isa, nag-aabang. Naghihintay sa pagtingkad ng mapanglaw na liwanag.

photo credit : shirtlesssexyasian.blogspot.com

Smoke and Mirrors

You waited patiently. As I opened and revealed them one by one, tightly encased within each of my other Matryoshka selves. Slowly, hesitantly. At my own pace, at my own terms. Until I stood there naked, trembling and unsure.

You held my face, pale under the glaring light, with both hands and said, "I like this one the most."

You took my hand and led me away from the Penrose stairs where I have lost those whom I have followed. Ascending, as they went the other way, and realizing too late that I have been tricked into a solitary spiral.

We stopped in between two mirrors facing each other. I instinctively cringed, waiting for the smoke and tricks to appear to thunderous but hollow applause. But everything remained quiet, as you showed me our reflection.

"You are beautiful," you whispered.

And I was, but more so with you. We shared the same smile, you and I, reflected by two mirrors into infinity.

Matryoshka dolls

Penrose stairs

photo credit: 
flickr - two short planks (two mirrors with infinite reflections)
trenddelacreme.com (Matryoshka dolls)
stewardess.inhatc.ac.kr (Penrose stairs)

Shallow Water

There I was. Sitting in a puddle, sulking. Deep into a tantrum, kicking violently as a child would. Muddying the shallow water with the sand and silt that I have dredged up. Without looking at my partner, I knew he was just shaking his head with a grin plastered on his face. Yeah I know, I can be such a kid at times.

I kept my head down and watched the water clear up as the sand settled. The ripples subsided and its surface reflected the clear sky. I lifted my head and saw the tranquil seawater all around me. It embraced the two of us, gently pushing us to shore, before heading back.

The late afternoon sun's reflection in the water was pretty. I asked him to sit beside me, so he could see. I cupped some water and trapped the sun in my hands.

I smiled at him and said, "For you..."

He beamed at me, before we started laughing uncontrollably. Kids.

Photo Credit: homorazzi.com

     

Apocalypse

It was quiet. Maybe for a few seconds before the low humming started. And then the building let out a deep groan and everything started to convulse. Cracks appeared and quickly spread across the large glass panels, which then exploded into a hailstorm of shrapnel.

The incessant drone of the alarm interspersed with panicked screams. Everyone was on all fours, assaulted by undulating ripples on the floor. We watched as the chandelier swayed wildly like a pendulum counting down to apocalypse. And then everything went dark.

We clung to the carpet as the world gradually regained it's balance. The ground may have stopped shaking, but we could not. We followed the lighted signs out of the potential death trap, and the cold spring air and muted sunshine eased the claustrophobic feeling that was suffocating us.

The alarms continued blaring, but there was relief on the faces of the crowd on the street. Then a shroud of panic descended on everyone as realization set in. Worried voices competed with the drone of the speakers, but with our rudimentary local language skills, we could not understand a thing.

Until we heard a familiar word.

Tsunami.


Based on accounts, not personal experience. Glad to have finally confirmed that my partner's family and my friends in the affected areas are safe. Prayers for the country and its people.


photo credit: twitpic.com/48dazv
      

The Death of a Blog

It was born from hope, a longing that everything would be alright. That if life, past and present, could be captured in an entry, then the good and bad that came with it would be suspended within the four corners of an archive.

He trapped happy entries, like fireflies in a jar, kept within easy reach for the occassional dark days. And he tagged each unpleasant one by its toe, before laying it to rest within its virtual casket.

It turned out to be a social being, drawn to its own kind. But in a place of john and jane does, friendships are fleeting. He said, "It's ok. You were made to listen to me." And it clung to its host more tightly.

It fed off thoughts and words for sustenance but then wanted more. It asked for legs, a soul, and to live like its master. It delved into him to satiate its hunger, and would not let go.

It seduced its keeper to stay longer as it fed. It mimicked the brightness of the sun outside, projected from its screen, and engaged him with stories borrowed from its neighbors.

It flourished and bloomed, it felt alive. But then it saw its host's reflection on the screen. Pale, not having been outside, and tethered, for its borrowed life. It softly spoke to him, "I have served my purpose. Now you have to let me go."

"I can't. You have kept me company all this time. Besides, I am not ready," he replied.

"But until you do, you won't move on. You have to live. Can't you see that if you don't, I will eventually die too?" it begged him. "Please. It's ok."

He looked at his creation, which now bears his reflection. How does one kill oneself?

Settings. Delete. Confirm.

And then he was free.

photo credit : filmschoolrejects.com
         

Halik

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Tagsibol (Good Vibes)

Pinilit kong bumangon. Pinagpag ko ang kumot bago ito inilatag sa ibabaw ng kama. Pumailanlang ang alikabok ng mga nakaraang araw at sumayaw sa ilalim ng matingkad na sikat ng araw sa may bintana.

Pagkagayak ay umupo ako sa labas para lasapin ang init ng yakap ng araw. Ipinikit ko ang aking mga mata at ipinaubaya ang aking katawan, hanggang sa nanuot ito sa aking kaibuturan. Napawi ang kapit at amoy ng alimuom at naging ganap ang pag-angkin sa akin ng liwanag.

Sabay sa aking pagmulat ay ang pagyabong ng mga kulay at paghuni ng mga ingay. Humayo ako nang may sigla ang hakbang, upang busugin ang matagal ko nang di naramdamang gutom.

photo credit: my.opera.com

Little White Lie

Nabanggit ko dati na halos lahat ng aking ex ay naging kaibigan ko rin. Kaya't normal lang sa akin na makatanggap ng text mula sa kanila. Tulad ng aking ex na nakiusap kanina na may asikasuhin ako para sa kaniyang negosyo. Siyempre nagkuwentuhan na rin kami tungkol sa mga kapwa kakilala.

Nagtanong ang aking asawa kung sinong ka-text ko. Hindi siya selosong tao, pero natigilan ako. Dati ko kasing nabanggit na si ex ay pinsan ko. Hindi pang-uuto, ayaw ko lang maungkat ang aming nakaraan. Siguro mali at dapat ang sinabi ko'y kaibigan, pero nataranta ako. Isa siyang kink sa aking personality.

Pero dapat bang malaman ng asawa ang nakaraan ng kaniyang kabiyak? Hindi ko ugaling magtanong. Ilang din akong pag-usapan ang sino, ilan, at dahilan ng hiwalayan - akin man o kanya. Dahil siguro ayaw kong maimpluwensiyahan ng dati ang ngayon.

Itinuwid ko ang aking kasinungalingan at pigil-hiningang inantay ang bugso ng galit at paninibugho. Pero natawa lang siya at sinabing wala akong kailangang baguhin sa nakaraan. Hinarap niya ako at sinimulan naming pag-usapan ang pagtulong na aming gagawin para sa kaibigang nangangailangan.

photo credit: peterfever.com