Monthly Archives: July 2012

A Friendly Blueprint For A Purgatory

There should be a place where friends that used to be can exist. A place in which they are not alive nor dead; a purgatory.

Because in life, we are bound to lose friends. Those who weren’t able to stick long enough; people we once knew, once important to us; friends who we’ve outgrown and one’s that went the other way. Bottom line is, that’s reality.

To be honest, I abhor this fact. I refuse to accept that there is such a thing. But to deny it is downright ludicrous. Still, I can’t bring myself to let people go. Especially those I’ve known to call friends. I value what they mean to me, and so I’ll try my best to hold onto them.

This purgatory of friends is a reach for those who I have come to know; people that mattered and all the past tense peripherals that failed to function in present continuous tone. This is where I put them, a space in which all positive possibilities are open and negatives are nullified. A place where forgiveness is not withheld but made to be processed; an extension where the heart can be rehabilitated and reconciliation is on the table. A station where building blocks of friendships are restored, if not made new.

It’s unknown to me whether this is labyrinth is purely imaginary or plausible at all (I think it is). But the idea, in and of itself, is perfect. Because you don’t lose anything. It’s not to say that the status of that certain friendship won’t have any implications but it will not have to be so much as severe.

Completely fictional, Factually open.

SONGOFTHEMOMENT: Ghost And The Man by Lakes

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The One Who Stayed (..And The Leavers)

Accustomed to the temporal ends of Dubai, I have grown numb to people’s departures. It’s not the lack of emotion but a ready system immune to exit. Because I know that this city is nothing but a momentary place of refuge; a stepping stone.

It’s where people come and go.

But just as unfortunate as the fortunate, I’ve always bore the terrible privilege of staying; watching people take flight to far flung places where miles and timezones are the extensions of distance. And until now, I sit here still seeing people off. And it tires me.

It always hurts to see someone go away. But what goes unnoticed is the the pains of the one who stayed. The person who was left in tears or in shatters; that man whose heart is equally broken; the one who’s waiting on the other end of the line. This is me. I play the role of the friend relinquished.

Empty promises of coming back given as consolations; plastic promises of keeping in touch, soon to be forgotten.

You see, the leaver moves out and can start over a new leaf. But the person who remained must continue their lives, they can’t afford a do over, only change of routine. Both are with great degree of difficulty. But don’t ever think that one who stayed got it any better.

Even when it’s my turn to give the slip, people have gone behind my itinerary to beat me to it. I don’t mean to play-test the emotions of people around me. All I want is for you to say ‘goodbye’. Because the leaver say it always as a response. But the one who stays always has to say it first.

SONGOFTHEMOMENT:  Fade And Then Return by William Fitzsimmons

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Something To Say

I have always thought for myself that I actually have some things to say about something. Whether they’re downright absurd or thoroughly profound.

But for all those quick witty thoughts to silly simple statements, I have made a Twitter account.

This is for on the spot, spontaneous one liners with a hint of current shenanigans and angry rants.

So if you’d like to hear some nighttime musings. Follow.

(There’s a widget right below the blog page.)

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A Sunny Evaluation Pt. 2

Summer flew by quickly as if it were a bright yellow flash. Maybe it’s because of the constant glare of the sun. But it’s been alright I guess. After all, time doesn’t idly by. It wont wait for you to finish your coffee, more so give you time make conversations. So it’s all wise to make the moments count.

Recap, rundown, round up. Here goes..

  • Money magic trick. This is a one of those acts that non-magicians can pull off with their own wallets. It’s not uncommon at all. See something nice, *POOF*. Money gone, pulls out item from a bag. Cue the tossing of loose change.. Please.
  • New admission. I’ve started joining a legit Bible Study at this course of my stay. And I must say, these studies are quite intense. Intentional to the point that I feel like the Gospel singles me out. Nonetheless, it’s all heavenly vibes.
  • X-Box Live. Serious gaming mode: Finally signed up for a Live account and got Battlefield 3. Been a daytime zombie ever since. Not to mention, a major anger management candidate.
  • Losing streak. I’ve managed a mean tally of losses the past few ball games. Frustrating. But this is not an update about how I’m struggling at basketball. It’s just that I’m learning how to get out of some heavy funk. Slowly, steadily.
  • “At the top”. Finally reach the pinnacle viewing spot of Burj Khalifa- The tallest tower on Earth! Definitely a noteworthy experience considering the fact that I’m a complete acrophobic. Well, ‘was’ an acrophobic. Win. Shout out to the Kuwaiti-bunch for sharing the experience!
  • Death by drowning. Damn. I almost died swimming. Made me think about life and all the crap I’ve been doing. Thank you, God for saving me. But next time ward me of the deep end. Thanks.
  • ‘The Friendzone Purgatory’. There should be a post dedicated to my friend who is not my friend right now but still is.
  • Bum. I swear, I regret letting a whole set of days go by without any happenings. Total bummer.
  • Drunk text. So I finally hang out with my ‘other’ friends. Those who choose not to go to church. And that night I sent an SMS to my dad’s old company number, my folks asked me if I got sloshed. Laughed so hard.
  • Countdown. The day that looms ahead. Damn. I will have to count soon. But for now we bask under the sun.

As I’ve mentioned, the day of my departure is to come soon. But I don’t want to burden myself with anxiety for time will come for me anyway. So as long I have my feet on the sand I’ll keep my chin up. And march on wards.

I hope you, reader is having a pleasant summer!

A Sunny Evaluation Pt. 1

SONGOFTHEMOMENT: Cry When You Get Older by Robyn

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Red Ribbon

There’s a girl with short hair. Shorter than an average girl’s crown; trimmed to an utter masculine appearance. She isn’t a rebel disapproving society and all it feminine biases. All she was, is a girl.

A girl with long silky hair; highlights of red streaming through her fibers. Her hair was youth itself, one adorned by a young lady. A red bow that laced a beautiful face like a gift tied with a ribbon.

But she was unwrapped.

Because boys like toys they can play with. Blind kids open presents which are not meant for them. This not a case of childish thievery but more, for hearts are mangled by boys with roughest hands but most deceitful minds. So when a shrewd little liar took form of a ruthless boy. The girl loved like gullible under the puppetry of his words.

Emotions flared, everything burned.

When her mother had found out of what happened to her precious daughter. She saw scars similar to hers. A bitter and broken older-self took over and hard discipline came down. Hard to imagine, but all in motive of love.

They chopped her hair. Every strand decapitated with sheer contempt. The scissors clipped the crest that validated the young woman and they ripped that ribbon that sat on her head until all she had to show for was her shameful face. As she look upon her fallen locks, she bawled at the foolishness of the girl who once wore that crown.

But there comes a day for every damsel in distress. Fortunately, her’s came sooner.

And so that girl with the short hair. Yeah, she’s alright now. Under repair but she’s getting there. Maybe next time I sit next to her, I’d ask her about the hair. In which she’d wittily reply, “It’s a summer thing.”



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I play basketball within its parameters.

That means I compete with my all; addressing every aspect of the game as possible to get a win. And with it comes, exhausting the emotional prerequisites of a perfectly democratic game. Smack talk.

Or maybe, (aggressive) pep talk?

We played a pretty close pick up game tonight. Sprinting end to end; blows to the body. Scratch and claw to win. But as basketball is a team sport. It demands a strong chain made up of 5 players. And if there’s weak link, you weld it with fire. So, you vocalize your hot emotions to repair that. But sometimes it just melts away.

The game implies that you play with emotion. To play it without, is to run an engine with no fuel. But place your foot on the pedal for longer and you start to smoke and spit fire. Out of your own mouth. Doesn’t matter if it’s towards the opponent or your own teammate.

You burn them.

They could choose to ignite a spark in their player. Or they can get burned.

I play basketball within its parameters.

That means I say sorry for whatever happens during the game.

I learned something today: Apologies can be made unto a person. But they have complete freedom to decide on whether to acknowledge it. I thought making amends make a better man. True. But to have a considerable expectation of respect from the recipient, that’s a sort of falsity.

I extended hand for sorry shake. Letting him know, that it everything’s alright, we lost. I was just trying to win. But he looked with my hand with sheer scrutiny, shook his head and rejected my apologetic ways. So I extended my hand onto his chest a bit. And said, “sorry”.

I though it was thorough disrespect. But little did I know, he was just exercising his free will.

I play basketball within it’s parameters.

That means when the game is over. I leave every basketball matter on the court. Frustrations and issues included.

The kid went past us with an older fellow. Seemingly looking his father. The old man exclaimed, “You should play by yourself. Not with a team.” Implying I was hot headed hog, I lost sight. Everything went black.

“At least I can play. Maybe you should teach him sometime.” I said. Pride.

Tempers were flaring at that point of time. And things go out of control when you play with fire.

Him walking away and I, still talking smack. He took a step back.

And he asked angrily, “What you say, kid?”.

“Said nothing sir.” I replied. “It ain’t my fault you’re old and can’t hear sh*t”, I added.

“Disrespectful kid, don’t know how treat your elders”. He yelled.

“Well aren’t you mature, picking a fight with a kid. You should teach your son that, maybe he’ll learn to stand on his own.” I yelled back.

The argument subsided with players pushing back opposing parties. Soon, reality set in. A guilty conscience embraced me.

I play basketball within its parameters.

That means I can play with heart and balls on the court.

It takes a whole heart and balls to do the right thing; to come to someone and admit your mistake. Of course fear and anxiety doubles the struggle. And when you can’t find those two elements. You put your head down.

I saw the old man and the kid at the store nearby as we were having our little water break. The kid eyed me down with the sense of disbelief. While the older fellow kept a straight face. Immune of what had occurred.

Since it didn’t take a while for the realization of the recent incident to kick in. I knew the most appropriate thing to do was apologize. But as I shot glimpses behind my back, I couldn’t muster enough heart not to mention balls to say a thing..

I came home feeling like a loser. Both in life and game.


SONGOFTHEMOMENT: Boasting by Lecrae

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