What’s worse than committing a crime?
     acting as if it never happened
          wanting more
               realizing that your conscience is numb and
                   then smiling afterwards

How did I change and why? I see myself and realize that I don’t see me at all.

That who used to be is screaming somewhere, deep inside,
   locked up, 
      freed,
         scared,  
            lost.

Help me save a morsel of who I was. I liked me better then.

Get angry at me, for me. I can’t seem to find the rage I used to have.

Has my passion died as well?

Yes, this is my crime.

One thing I learned from the death of my best friend was that I should never lack the courage to say what I feel. The problem with that is I almost always explain myself wrong.

There’s this thing I’m facing right now. And I know I have to say what I feel. But I don’t know how. I’m too much of a coward to put a friendship at risk. I’m also afraid to let things go the way they’re going right now, just as much as I’m afraid things will change.

Yes, I am living in an abstract world.


==========

Tatit told me yesterday she wanted the old version of me back. I want her back too. But I couldn’t remember her leaving and how. So I don’t know where to look for her.

Somewhere along this whole struggle to exist, I lost this part of me that made me see life in colors that no one else saw. Everything now is in regular hues.

I’ve lost the passion for things that used to define me. And without that passion, I am no more.

Yes, I am living in an abstract world.


==========
When did things start to be this complicated?

When did I start to change?

This person I see in the mirror has grown and aged, but I don’t remember her. I don’t know her name.





 

This can't be happening to me again.

I already saw it coming.

I just watched for a moment, looked away, then closed my eyes.

Dark clouds are forming. No thunder, no lightning.

Just dark and silent. Waiting to see what would happen next.

It all runs in slow motion now.

I'm screaming but there is no sound.

And there you are, standing on the far side, watching for a moment. Then you look away and close your eyes.

End.

I was going through my field notebook and found some journal entries from last year. As I was reading through them, I remembered the loss of a friend, more accurately the death of a friendship.



I pained over it. I tried to save what could be saved. But he didn’t want to. I don’t blame him. Sometimes, I don’t like myself either. I don’t see the fall out as his fault; we both had a hand in it. I guess some good things really don’t last.



I used to miss him. But now I realize that I have not only gotten over our friendship, I speak of him with bitterness. He doesn’t speak of me at all, nor does he enjoy breathing in the same space as me.



Oh well. You win some, you lose some. Losing him isn’t my proudest moment, and I know it’s his loss as much as mine. Sadly, he does seem happier without me in his life. And if that’s the last good thing I get to do for him, so be it.



 

I love atsara. I say it's the best condiment ever, next to bagoong. I can live with just eating atsara and rice. I can I can I can! And of course, I can survive on bagoong and rice, too.

So yesterday, our house guest, Ate Paz, who was supposed to be resting and regaining her strength, decided to try making atsara. Her mom makes the BEST atsara ever.

She spent the entire day in the kitchen. Mike deserves special mention for helping her out. They only finished it this morning.

I love atsara. And after realizing how difficult it is to make a batch, ummm... nothing. I just realized it's difficult. (See how profound I am?)

That's why I stick to baking. I was already able to make a batch of biscottis last night. It took me less than an hour to do that including the preps and the baking and rebaking to make it crispy. If the stove weren't so busy, I know I would have made a batch of chocolate toffees too.

Hay wala lang. I think there's nothing interesting going on in my life right now if all I can talk about is atsara and baking.

I can't wait to go back on field. 10 more days to go and I'm back to sleeping in tents.

I have nothing interesting to say. 

Count me in as a fan of Channing Tatum!

I know it sounds corny, and girls my age probably have better things to spend their free time on, but I am going to marry him. Sorry Will Smith, but he's a younger man! Hehehe

Step Up had great dance routines but in my opinion, the rest of the movie was kinda boring. And I think if actors other than Channing and Jenna Dewan played the lead roles, the movie won't work altogether.

But this post isn't a critique on the movie. It's about me professing that I am a Channing Tatum fan. And all those who say he isn't hot is either in denial or just stupid.

There.

And I promise the next post will reflect the true me.

I helped arrange a Philippine Eagle rescue to Zamboanga today. I wish I were going too.

It breaks my heart to hear what happened to the other birds. My hands were shaking while I was on the phone. It's such a good thing that at least one was found by someone with a heart.

Eagles are falling from the sky. I imagine a future where eagles no longer soar.

I sigh with pain.

A future where the Philippine Eagles are no more is a future not worth looking forward to.

You may think I'm exaggerating. I don't know where this fire comes from either. But my job is not just something I do with passion, it IS my passion. This isn't just me barely making a living, it is [an integral part of] my life.


=========

Eagles are falling from the sky. I look down from above and I see I am falling too. I brace myself for the pain. I close my eyes and see the pit waiting for me. I hold on to myself and reach out for you. And as I approach the end, I find myself alone, watching eagles falling from the sky.