photography

Looking Back

I took this photo after attending the Sunday mass with my mother and brothers. It was my first time to visit Manila Cathedral after a few years of staying in the city. Never has it come up to me to go and experience its grandeur and rich history.

Two days before Sunday I suggested to my brothers that we should bring Mama to Manila Cathedral because aside that I too want to go there, she is also wanting to see and visit the church.

As I step a little bit farther to frame this shot, I took some good minutes to appreciate the structure, design, style and even trying to recreate in my mind how this church endured the times. The history wonder in me is so just into it.

So What’s Your Story

 

Wake me up when September ends.

 

Maybe I was enjoying too much of my slumber last month. I was reading for some inspiration on what to really write here. It is apparent that my participation with the weekly photo challenge have thinned out. I don’t know. Maybe I just got tired looking on my archive of photos that might adhere to the weekly theme. But I still check every week’s theme and read randomly of entries that draws my attention maybe to its title, photo or the blog name itself. I will soon join the bandwagon again. I am checking a lot of photography accounts and websites too. I am willing the time now to keep me inspired always.

 

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I have a couple of links of articles in my Facebook’s Saved page that I have not opened or better yet read. The number of those saved links appear to be less than 5 this past week. But honestly, it gets annoying when Facebook pushes one or two of those links on your Newsfeed to remind you that you have 3 unopened links including the one they tagged on the notification. So I try to open the Saved page for the sake of clearing out the counter and blindsiding Facebook that I have opened those links but not really. I let it stew there just in time when I am ready to reading it.

 

Reading Jonathan Franzen’s Freedom is still on going. It is my night cap sometimes. It is sitting by the side of my bed below my brother’s study lamp. It’s been like what, almost 4 months now that I am reading this book. Not that it is boring or uninteresting. It is just how I want to enjoy this book. I am already on half of it. So I am close to finishing. Again, I still have more books waiting for me neatly tucked on the shelf that I forgot to dust off last Sunday when I made some tidying up of the living room all the way to the kitchen. I got lazy to saving it from dust when I realized that I completely overlooked that spot, my own spot on that shelf as I was already putting back the washcloth, the mop and the broom.

 

Every morning since the start of the second week of September I try to sweep the floor and wipe clean our dinner table to get ready for my godson. I agreed to become his tutor while I am still not tied to my future work and he too still studying here before leaving for Vietnam. His mom, my bestfriend turned twin sister offered me this because they really want him to cope up with his schooling and be better. I was up for it soon as they asked me. But I was kind of having the hunch that they might consider me when I visited them after his mom asked me for a favor to help him with his homework and I spent time with him and his baby sister too. I was able to win him and let him finish his lunch while throwing some fit to his nanny. I am fond of him so it was easy for me. I can take it and their son too is comfortable and close to me as well. And it has been a month now that Zak and I are creating memories of him getting better at his study habits and some life lessons I may impart on a whim or when he is lazily caught up with a boring bug. Not a real kind of bug but when he feels bored and not an ounce of energy excites him to continue with our study time. A lot of questions coming from a 5 year old kid just blows my mind on an early time of day. Gladly, I can easily buzz her mom if I need help explaining things. Explaining it to a more simple state or what he can digest. All the while I have been able to pass some of his questions with me answering him, “I don’t know.” I would like to think that when he hears me say that he will not ask of it anymore. But he is smarter than he looks. I am cutting him some slacks because he is just a kid. Being his godfather and being able to spend time with him now, I want him to have that time not thinking of things or sort of. I just want him to know too that I am here to support and help.

 

So what’s your story? 

 

 

Threshold

This waiting game is getting me sucked in this paranoia of oblivion. The what if’s are just at bay. I am not flipping out. There’s this part of me that keeps on saying that something is beginning, something is changing.

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Over the past weeks, counting the days, being oblivious of time trying to let my mind off of my expectations and imagining the urban life I will endure again feels like at one point that I haven’t done anything at all with my life. Nothing happened. Nothing is happening. The time I have had my last job until today was like it just happened a few months ago.

Sometimes, I even still feel like having just graduated from college. Readying to face the world for my taking. On the other hand, I am at this race against time burying into thinking what could, should have I done in the past. The regret of unburdening myself to figuring out my exit on these gaps I myself have led on comes up whenever I try to resolve something. I might have not taken myself seriously but who does really. The intention of being serious is out though I have this pensive and serious look in my face. I am not just good with small talks so either I am taken as a snob or a bore. In all of these, I just know what works for me and what I can care less.

True enough, we are our own’s worst critic.

I know what I want now and I am keeping myself to doing just that. I sometimes tend to go in a bubble but living in the now is my banner. Accepting for a fact that memories create what we are to do next. Either good or bad memories, all of it happened entirely in the past. As much as we want to not consider it, what we see today and what will happen tomorrow is more than the reason not it. Cliche, mental but true. It happened and is happening in all of us. It is a constant push and pull. No other way.

So,that’s where I stick myself up because no matter how much of life we’ve been through, when we rebuild and choose our way to resiliency we have those memories and we can always start anew.

 

 

Roots

Before finishing my college degree, I have had some pit stops along the race. Two semesters, a total of one school year that I chose to let go and pass. It was a sound decision I made to ease some financial stretch for the family. My elder brother was due to graduate of his degree in one year after I started my college. We both attended the same university.

I didn’t take a leave of absence at my university. I didn’t even notify my business course department. Freshman as I was, the innocence of running aground with my course department leave past me. New friends, new environment was a battle ground for me. None of my high school classmates more so friends decided to study at the university much take the same business course.

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The first semester that I stopped was the second half of my freshman year. I told Mother that I am taking the back seat to give way to our elder brother. The expenses were evident and instant so it would be difficult to sustain our every day living as students if both of us were attending.

I was seventeen years old. I thought of working part-time and still attend college even for a limited units of subjects. Mother discounted the idea of it. She iterated that I might not finish my degree and my tendencies to never come back home. I knew of her saying this again when I stopped for one semester during my junior year. Discoursing my thoughts with her to consider and change her saying no went up one time.

Still it was a no for her. After hearing her stern, calm voice I let my wings down. I was thinking what really made her to say no. After, I thought maybe it has something to do with me saying once while in an emotionally vulnerable state that, “I don’t want to stay in this house, in this place anymore.

This house, this place I was referring to is our home, our hometown. The home, the hometown where we grew up and continue to live until today.

Detaching and separating myself from this place sometimes pass the back of my mind up to this day. But I just can’t. Mama fuels, inspires our dreams. Mama is home.