As I Stand Here

One of the things I like to do on weekends is to take photographs of strangers. And photographs of things in general. I like to jog on weekends too so I take photographs of co-joggers and myself in sweat.

A photograph of myself in sweat is not something I’d like to share to you in particular. It’s not as interesting as the next photographs you would see in this post.

Just like Zooey Deschanel’s character in Yes Man, I too love to take photographs during my jogging trips. While I was warming up, I took a snap shot of this place in Quezon City that I haven’t been able to dwell into. I’ve been here so many times that I haven’t been able to notice this. Like most of us, I guess I’ve been too busy to take in what we see, even in just a little few seconds. And so, I took in a little less than five seconds. A lone tree that was perhaps pushed by the change of weather yet it chose not to die —- instead, it chose to grow it’s leaves even more and adapted to the change of times.

How many of you out there (yes you, whoever you are reading) who’s gotten this dream of dying? Well perhaps a ratio of about 7 out of 10 have dreamed of finding themselves dying (in whatever instance or situation that occurs into) or perhaps 7 out of 10 have NOT dreamed of finding themselves dying (sorry, my bad of insinuating this thought..). Well, I’ve found myself dying in a number of dreams, but the most similar thought is finding myself floating into some realm of surrealism. Much like floating into a painting that looks real (much like the first photograph). A painting that contains several mountains and a few splashing rivers of several different colors. After that dream, I always find myself wondering if that might be true. Yes. After waking up to that dream I always find myself wondering before praying or even while brushing (or not brushing??) my teeth just to start the day. What if that’s how the after life looks like? What if we wake up to a little bright light and find ourselves momentarily drifting off, off to see the ones we love and hate getting stuck on earth, not even caring to wave us off goodbye or laughing at us for just drifting off to some estrange world? And after seeing all this beauty of the earth, we’re drifted off into a world filled with anger and hate, rage and fear, of loathing and jealousy? Fire into fire into fire?

Well I guess you’d either laugh at me now or say ‘whoa’?! I know, it’s too hard to digest. But that’s how I feel whenever I’m looking at something this beautiful. I stand there and wonder how we never get to just stand there and look. And listen to the birds chirping. And feel the dampness of the sunny wind whirling all over us. I guess I just got too busy.

We’ve all gotten too busy.

So the question is, have we really been to busy to even care? Have we been too old enough to tell ourselves that we know the answers to everything.. or have we just been old enough to tell ourselves that we don’t know and that we don’t care? Oh come on, that’s not how we’ve been taught in school, right? Haven’t we all been taught to keep asking?


Sometimes when people don’t understand each other, they just falter and give up.

Some people remember things, some people stick to things, and some people stick to the memory of a person. Or a cat. Or their favorite teacher’s name. Or a book. Or a character from a book.

I remember everything, although I very much would like to forget everything. It comes back to me like a recurring dream. This one would come back to me like a recurring daydream. Like by the time I get home from work, that one hour or forty-five minute drive home (depending if I went home early or I was on overtime) would be like daybreak. Everything you’re not supposed to think about you begin to think about. Like cars crashing into the Commonwealth highway, a car about to collide into our bus from nowhere, a person knocking into my door at ten thirty just to bother my sleep, and then the afternoon sunlight hitting my eyes on that unforgettable afternoon.

In this mini daydream of mine, which I repeatedly have almost everyday as far as I can remember is on that instance wherein I am found sitting in a dewy grass, it’s in the afternoon and I stare at the trees where the sun creeps and peeks like a kid in hiding. I am waiting for someone, and this someone is someone I keep remembering almost once a week, once a month, once in every quarter of the month. He walks into this serene picture, carrying two bottles of water and looks down on me with that reassuring smile. I haven’t seen him in a while and I’m not planning on seeing him any soon. But the problem with people you try best to forget is that their faces are the last thing that disappear.

And so, as I post this slightly personal post, my only desire is to completely forget. But as I say goodbye to that only beautiful memory of that person, I would like to say ‘thanks’ as well. And formally, goodbye. I hope this message reaches across.

I just hope so.