Power Rangers slash Boyband

When I was a little kid (define 'little', baby), I used to believe in the concept of Power Rangers - that with the right set of  friends, we know we could save the world - at age 10, I didnt know from what it needed saving from, but I know that it needed saving so badly.

And then came High School

We were actually more than just 5, but through the years, we'd been the most consistent. We didnt call ourselves power rangers, (but Just in case, I am Blue) - there had also been close friends here and there, and  we were not the "it" barkada from Highschool. We're probably also the boyband who humbly eat lunch together with each other and each other's girlfriends. We'd have overly corny theme songs that reminds us from each relationship, and we'd be each other's, "tangina pare, ang labo nya talaga", we'd patiently listen, and sometimes pretend to listen, and give out advice, which most of the time, not followed, and we're the one who says to them, "sabi sayo eh. gago ka kasi"  - we'd jam along the songs of Slapshock and Linkin Part and act like we're so cool. We'd wear Elephant pants and Blings, and hide our illegal cellphones on our underwears (mind you, 5110s are hard to keep near your crotch) However we were so diverse, we came from different sections and different personalities and liked different chick types. Just like the power rangers. one was a Geek, one was Cool, one was Wacky, one was a Dancer, one was Gay (HAHAHAHA) The power rangers had a lot ahead of them.

Now after 12 years of Friendship, I really thought things would change much. I thought we'd have a password that only we will know, or a Brand New Theme Song as we morph in and Pledge our undying allegiance to one another - through Chicks and Porn, through Hearbreaks and Weddings,  I thought we'd have a shiny, common costume with a silly big helmet the will not fit me, and worse: wearing tights.

We were still the same, but still so different. We still laugh at each other's exes, and flaws, and like a boyband we know the songs we sang and who we offerred it for. Even after years since Highschool Graduation, we were there are We'd still patch up and lick each other's emotional wounds, and celebrate through triumphs and graduations, jokes and consultations. They will definitely take me as the God of father of their Kids and, paunahan nalang kung sino ang kukuha kung kanino. If one day, I will run away from home, choose one of these 4, and I'll be there - maybe drunk or crying or being stupid (never mind JC, he's on FL, but hey, we never know) - we'd fight over alcohol, and talk on who's paying for what, and be the little kids we were back then. It was fun being with them once again. They were the witness to how I've been, to who I am right now, and theyre ready to understand everything I do, no matter what - actually, even if they dont understand... They know why I'm emotional, and overly unstable, and idealistic, and lazy, and too much talkative, and miserable, and obese, and attention deficit, and exagerrated --

-- They know about that, and together, I know I have the right set of friends, and we can tag along to save the world,

at 25, now, I realized:

It was not just the world that needed saving.

I did too.

To JC, Elpol, Alex, and Burn - Cheers to 12+ Years of Friendship. And definitely beyond

woot to Ramos, JJ, Kurt, Gelo, Gaspi, Diego.

(Inspired from Jared Singer's 'Toybox)

Grief is a form of Fire

It was a Friday, and as far as i can recall, it was almost always a friday, and almost always borderline saturday, almost always the same problem, almost the same hope, always the same result. the facts that happened that night wasnt any different, just wrapped differently. though i could have choosen to ask myself press 'repeat emotion sequence', but that night, I felt different. funny how everytime it happens, it further proves a point, and pushes me further away.... after every time I believed, it came to this point... for that night, I felt numb. Alcohol was doing a great job numbing it and diluting every bitter punch to wrap the bad taste it leaves... and the smell of the smog of the October air and fresh rain was letting me make it sink it all in without too much contemplation. It's letting me breathe it all in and face it like a man, and exhale any ill feelings. It was hard to do, but I knew I was doing it for me - I knew it was for the best. I waited and 

 waited, even though I know I was waiting for no one,

...until the clock stuck 3AM, there I was, standing at my dormitory window, and it seems like the whole world was silent waiting for the next time my phone sings.

i lied in bed with eyes wide open arms folded and had there not been any roof and pollution, i know i would've conversed with the stars and ask why the freaking universe is not letting us work this out. but of course, the universe will not answer that. instead, it will give you a deafening silence and let you figure it out yourself why. maybe it will give a little falling star here, or a twinkle, but that's about it, it will still leave you perplexed and hungry for explanation... maybe the answer will just hurt me, maybe i'm not ready for it yet, but most likely, i'm not gonna get the answers that i needed. maybe i just have to let it be. maybe, i really just have to let it go. 

grief has 5 stages. i've heard that for a few good people, they could sneak their way out ang go right away on the 5th stage, acceptance. for some, they dwell too much on the first. or second. or third. and repel too much on the fourth. 

but for me, Grief, is a form of Fire. You deny first that the fire is already harming you for you thought It was just getting you warm and getting you through the cold night. then you'll start to realize the fire is stealing the air you're about to breathe, it consumes what is supposed to be inside your lungs. And then the fire grows and it starts to 

 chase you, and the next thing you realize, you are standing in front of your dormitory window, at 3AM, thinking if you're willing to jump from the building, or be consumed by the fire - either way, you're dead. And as the fire wraps you, you find yourself conversing with the stars that cannot give you a concrete answe - that cannot give you an answer in 

 the first place. and as the fire burns every single, living hope in the ridiculous little fairy tale, you inhale pure fire just to get your life over with. no matter how painful it will be.

then again, Grief is a form of fire, but fire doesnt have to be a bad thing. it purifies and neutralizes all emotions and memories whether good or bad. it kills all probable pathogens, that even the most minute contaminant won't have a chance of cultivating back. fire could make you catalyze the cooking process and not just let the goddamn sun do all the work. Fire makes even the hardest of metals glow, and be forged into the most lethal of swords. Through fire, they bend, get molded, and they don't break. 

Sometimes, we don't understand why we should take all the heat and let us be engulfed in the fire, but I guess it will all be clear once we get out of it... as crystal clear as your reflection in the shiny sword that will be made out of it. 

so right now, i'm letting the fire burn in me until it kills all hope and toast all pathogens of regret. i'll let it get all the air it wants. I would let it wrap me and devour me, the Universe could even play a background music for all I care, until it will take me higher, and higher, and around and around, until, I, too, will be part of the smoke, and the smoke will thin out, until the air becomes breathable again, and then, It will all be clear. greif will then turn into gratitude, and bitter will be called a blessing. i just needed the fire to be a vehicle, as I ride along its wake.

the war of heart and mind

A line has been drawn in the brain - and no, it's not a Sulcus, it's deeper. Along the Temporal Lobe, they chose to battle, riding along the Highway of Papez – two movements who was usually going the same way, chose not only to diverge, but to go against each other. One is Reason – where logic and facts stand in constant, where black is black and white is white. And on the other end, lying near the Hippocampus, is Emotion – where it breeds color and breathes life, where inspiration taps the best of potential.

 

The War of Heart and Mind has been waged. People all throughout history have had these epic wars inside of them. Some more than once, and some lasted a whole lifetime. Some ended up in regrets, and some set themselves free. But the hard part about this battle is that there is no algorithm to follow on what to do, and what not to do. No rules to delineate, and there is no definition of right or wrong. What makes it even harder is that, after one side wins, there will always be that what-if that slaps you back. That what if and could have beens, and might have beens, that will haunt you – or maybe not. And no two stories are the same. 

 

Emotion was throwing fireworks of colors. For a while, the brain was happy. He was happy. All it needed was a confirmation that he is loved back. Selfish, maybe, but that was his drug. That was his fuel to keep the hormone flowing.

At first, someone else was poking on his cranium. Until, someone else also did it. And someone else also did. Until opinions became suggestions, and suggestions became wake up calls, and wake up calls became bitch slaps – suddenly, reason woke up and picked up ammunition, and aimed right at the middle temporal sulcus.

 

And then they shoot. Facts. Facts. Facts. Fuck. Emotion just stared at the sky, and smiled as they braced for a landing.

 

And then emotion spoke: “Just let me be happy. Please”

 

Reason heard it. And stood for a while, and put the shooting on hold, for reason remembered something: Never had he seen himself so happy like ever before. Never had he been more proud of himself, never had he gotten to be appreciated so much. From appreciating his works, to the way his eyes sparkle, and even the way he snores. Yes, never been that happy.

 

But then, one day, Reason started to get on its feet once again. He thrown more facts and more missiles to Emotion, but they all came back to him with a note, written all over it.. “I Love Her” – it was a Trump Card. A Two of Diamonds. An Immunity Idol. An Exemption – yet reason kept on sending and resending his messages so that he could make his point. Until Reason gets tired of the war. Now I understand the schizophrenics. 

 

Emotion on the other hand, tried to remain vibrant and high and hold on to every single sane thing he could hold on to. Pride was kicked out of the equation. He kept on throwing the same thing, and is not letting reason get the best of him. His drug must remain at a steady state. Because, Emotion thought: this is my story. The story I asked for, and this is it, and I know it – there is no way in hell I will let go.

 

Emotion stood there and gave everything he can. Reason, was there too, not giving up without a fight. It was the epic war of Heart and Mind. Where the price in unknown, the rules are unsettled, and no one knows when this will all end. It drains too much CSF and Brain waves, too much necessary or unnecessary lacrimations, rants left and right, and opinions from other people.

 

After it all, the Two became tired. Botch catching their breath at an imaginary battlefield they stared point blank at each other. And said their last piece for the day before they settle

 

Reason said: You have done what you have to do, and actually even more than you are expected. Yes, I am proud of you for that. But, dude, leave some sanity for yourself. Leave some love for yourself. And even pride. Yes, you Love her, maybe I won’t contest that anymore. But, The fastest way to kill a relationship is to try too hard to fix it. Just let it be. Let God fix it, and pray for the best.

 

And Emotion said: I understand you for being that way, but I guess you cannot blame me from this spell. Maybe you’re right, I should not let this consume me, but please let me keep even just one flicker of hope. If it dies, so be it. But leave the probability of it for me, let me miss her from time to time, let me reply to her messages, let me feel what I used to feel – let me keep a dose of hope in my pocket, you can have the rest. In the mean time, I will cast my own prayers, you can cast yours. And let God do the rest. You are right, maybe I’m trying too hard.

 

....

 

The air was still thick, full of smog and cloud, but there were no ramblings anymore. No one won and I think no one will. One day, they will flow into one road again, and pick up what was lost and heal each other’s wounds, and patch up each other damages. They will rebuild each other again, and maybe Reason will say sorry, maybe Emotion will apologize. Only God can tell.

 

And as both Reason and Emotion were tired, one wave of waves came in that was even more powerful than the both of them: it was Sleep. It purifies, it pacifies, it makes you forget, or live out a subconscious fantasy – either way, it’s an escape.

 

 

...And then I will wake up. And live one day at a time, then sleep again. And the cycle will go on – and the War of Heart and Mind: I just know it will one day settle – hopefully with her (says Emotion) maybe without her (says Reason) – all I know is that one day, Everything is going to be alright.