Keep walking.

She and I knew each other for about a decade, and in that time, we had shared so much. We had our relationships, and we were always happy for each other when we started them. There were inevitable breakups, and we were there for company as the other fell apart. There was drinking at work, cigarette breaks, quitting smoking, smoking again and fights. There were fights too, but they always worked out. She and I used to go to the beach once a month to decompress- just quick day trips that started early and ended late. Usually with our favorite beer and chinese food at that place near my house. She was the one with a car back then. It was stupid really; the time spent driving was just as much as the time spent on the beach. We didn't care.

Once I even had to take care of her when she was sick. She had moved into an apartment up the street from my house (I think she lives there still). She had a terrible headache, and she was in tears from the pain. I called almost-doctor friends, got medicine, and at one point, I massaged her temples for an hour, just so she could sleep. It was something other people- even couples- go for years without experiencing. People just assumed we were together. When we laughed and explained we weren't, they said we should have been. That always made us laugh more.

It had been about two years since I saw her last. I ran into her again yesterday evening, as she was coming home from work. We both said "Hi," and kept walking. We didn't even break our stride.

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On cooking and stuff

I have very recently noticed something about myself. I binge-cook. Whenever I feel bad about something, or have a general bad vibes-y streak, I cook. It doesn't really matter what it is I cook. A few weeks back, it was a massive batch of chili. My massive, I mean about a pound of beef, plus all the other stuff (rice, beans, tomatoes and anything else I could find). I had no intention of eating it right then and there, I just wanted to cook. (My cousin ate it all ALL shortly after, and got a massive case of indigestion.) A few days ago, it was another batch of stuffed pork chops. The other night, hamburgers. They all turned out pretty great, especially if my cousins are to be believed. They are the ones who have the most to gain from my cooking, being in highschool and always hungry.

The thing is, I have been cooking so goddamn much. Plus, by the time I'm doen, I really have no desire to eat what I made because at that point, I will have tasted and tweaked and tasted so much that I'm more or less full. The food all goes away in the end because of the cousins, so that's good. I sometimes find myself wondering if this is what I should be doing with my life; cooking. Maybe when I'm old.

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More food

Yesterday, Dad left to go back to Md with mom. It was a really fun 2 weeks. More fun than I thought I would have with dad, who can be pretty moody at times. I was really sad to see him go. I imagine, though, that he was sadder. The next time he may be able to come back with mom will be in 5 years, give or take, so it's gonna be a long string of winters. They have also moved to a new house, so things are going to be a bit different for him when he gets back Stateside, but he is a tough soldier (if a little moody, but I have already mentioned this.)

To cope with the semi-orphan status, I decided to make dinner for Marianne. The help resigned, so I'm the one manning the kitchen, and while there are two other houses in this compound at which to have meals, Marianne and I stay in the main house, so it's nice to have a meal here every so often.

I decided on making something I knew my cousin would like, but was not going to be difficult to make (with the added bonus of cleaning out the fridge in the process). Cottage pie was on the menu. I cheated a bit though. There was no ground beef, so I resorted to using Keilbasa, and whatever veg I could find. They turned out to be baby carrots and tomatoes. So some chopping, boiling, sizzling and mashing later, I managed a pretty good cottage pie. Dead simple, and super effective. Marianne loved it, and saved some to bring to school. It was a large batch, so there was some to spare.

This is what I love about cooking. It's such an easy thing to do. There are just a few basic things you need to know, and you don't have to spend too much time with it, but when you make it for family, for people you love, it always turns out so great. It's cheezy (coincidentally, like the top of my cottage pie) but it's true when they say food can bring people closer.

I really did miss having someone to cook for. I used to do a lot of the cooking when I was in relationships in the past. It's how I learned, more or less. There had always been something in the process. Making everything come together just right was something I liked taking extra time with, because I was making it for people that mattered to me. When I eat alone, it's pretty basic. Spam, rice, soup. Done. I'm low maintenance like that, so having someone there for whom to stretch out my culinary legs is a great (and now rare) treat, even if it is something as rudimentary as cottage pie. Maybe I should have done this sort of thing for a living.

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It's never really over, is it?

Or, another in the series of "Life give you curveballs."

It is never really over. Knowing that you were one something, and then suddenly nothing is the epitome of the proverbial punch in the gut. I didn't even want to be in that position anymore, and this hasn't changed, but knowing things move on is still a sharp kick in the 'nards. I know full well that things haven't changed, I know that I shouldn't (and ultimately, don't) care and that it means nothing to me, but I guess it is only natural to go through something like this. I still don't want to go back to it, I can't stress it enough. I made my mind up once, and that once was (and still is) enough.

I realize that I have done this to others, and in a worse way, I imagine. For that (those?) times, I apologize. It shouldn't matter to anybody, but it always stings, and it should. It's the human condition.

This is the sign I guess I may have been waiting for without even knowing it. In that sense, I am thankful. A punch in the gut, and a kick in the ass should be enough to get anyone going, myself included.

I have always given solid advice about these things, when asked, and now, seeing it from a different angle, I see that none of the advice really matters. What will be felt will be felt, and you just have to wait until the wounds heal. It takes a while, but that's how you know it wasn't a complete mistake. That's how you know you did it right, when you did. I knew it was coming, and I guess I have been getting ready, so I have that going for me.

So there is no bad blood, or jealousy or longing. If I hadn't said it before, or hadn't said it enough: Goodbye and good luck. I mean it.

posted from Bloggeroid

Because I have been listening to one song on repeat

The beauty of music is how it is able to induce emotions. Induction is exactly how it works. It causes emotions to flow and ebb without really coming in direct contact with us. Music never really does, I think. At least not in my case. I never really come into contact with it. It's always just a passing through, even when I am playing it or singing it. Wells up from somewhere just beside and goes wherever it will. This is another thing that makes music so beautiful. You can never really hold it, you can't pin it down and it never really stays in one place. It takes effort and concentrations to produce it, and yet whene things are going well, and you're listening to something or playing a piece that's going well, it feels totally effortless and seems to just happen. I realize the contradiction here, but I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels this way.

I think this is why I fell in love with music in the first place. There was something about all the effort, all the practice you put into it, and the sudden disappearance of that effort into a living thing that is just short of self-sustaining, just outside yourself. Something that is yours, of your mind, but is also its own.

It was never an escape for me. I never really had anything to escape from. I think it had always been an admiration of beauty. It's being drawn, hypnotized, to beauty. You must look, you have to. You can try to fight it, but you are always always drawn back. Like looking at your lover from across a crowded room in longing admiration. You may know that this isn't the first time these feelings were felt for her (they may not even be the last), but they are yours for that moment and yours alone. You know that there are those secrets that only you and her know, and memories that only you and her share. It is a feeling for something so other, and at the same time, extremely personal in a way that cannot easily be explained to anyone else. This is exactly how I feel when I listen to a beautiful piece of music. It happens every time I do, and I love it all the more for that.

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Manila. Woo.

I am back home, sort of. I'm not entirely back, I think. I didn't want to leave in the first place. Palawan is such a beautiful place, with so much to see and experience that four days is hardly enough to scratch the surface of things to try. I don't usually make plans for vacations, preferring instead to let them happen naturally, (oddly enough, they do) but Palawan now has a hold on me. I have to go back. I don't even mind doing the same things over. I just have to get back there. It's just that great.

It was just the thing I needed to clear my mind from all the crud that had built up over the last months. Everything is a brighter, more vivid shade of blue now.

Not everything went to plan, though. The last whole day saw me in bed because of a sudden stomach bug that left me weak and unable to eat. I also lost a jacket. (Taks did the same. We think poobrain caused this) I don't really care about those things so much though. It was totally worth it to have seen the things I did.

It was also nice to make new friends. Hi Kelly. I hope you made it to that other island you were talking about.

If, for one reason or another, you are reading this blog, I implore you to go there. It doesn't matter if you have to borrow, beg or steal, you HAVE to go. You will not regret a single second.

Like I said, though, I am back. While travel is great, there is still no place like home.

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Palawan, Yeaaaaaah.

I am in Palawan (or WAS in Palawan, depending on the status of my internet connection). This is the first trip I have gone on since the whole Cebu debacle, and I have to admit, it's something I needed to do; get out of town on my own again. The last time I went out on my own was the trip back home from Cebu, and that is something I'd rather put behind me.

Anyway, Palawan is all sorts of awesome. The Underground River was really something. Words will fall short in trying to describe exactly how awesome it is. I say awesome not in the flippant, casual sense, but with full effect, insipring silent awe. It's amazing to think about what the earth has gone through to result in that. It makes everything EVERYTHING seem utterly insignificant. All things pale in comparison to how those caves were formed.

Snorkelling was fun as well. We had several hours of underwater time the other day, and it was worth every second. It gave me a whole new appreciation for the beauty of our country, and a little regret at not having done more of this in the past.

There wasn't much time to spend alone, however. I was hoping to be able to sit and read, maybe reflect a little about everything. Still, it is a fun trip, and one I don't regret taking in the least.

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