May I Feel Said He

This poem is my absolute favorite.
Simple words and simple rhymes created by E.E. Cummings to portray a compelling love story. I first read it within the The Love Book application and then I instantly fell in love with how it was written and my heart broke at the same time by the meaning within those words.

Below is my answer to that poem. Enjoy and please do tell me what you think!

image

My answer to E.E. Cumming's poem.

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Just Forget That It Hurts

An answer to Can’t Drive 55
Last song that I heard is You, The Room, and The Devil on your Shoulder by As It Is via the Discover Weekly playlist on Spotify. The following is a total work of fiction.

I hate being high. Tried it once. Unicorns. Popsicles. Happy thoughts, hurrah! Then two minutes after, demons. Monsters. Darkness. Nothing. All on repeat. Took the whole night.

Tried it again. Same damn thing. Nope, never again.

Life must have enjoyed seeing me high. You know why? Because even if I don’t take the stuff anymore, it is like the effects always come back.

I hate it. It hurts my mind. I wish I could just sleep it off but then my dreams will be tarnished as well. It is dark and cold.

You know that feeling that you get hurt and you can’t do nothing about it? You can’t scream. You can’t cry. That is what happens when I am high. I can’t just tell people to help me get the demons away.

I don’t get high anymore but I experience the effects almost all the time.

Always her. Her. Her. Her. He talks about her. Her. Her. Her. Her.

How about me, huh? I am here. I always am. I doubt that he talks about me whenever he is with her. Her. Her. Her.

Can’t do a thing about it. All I could do is nod, smile, laugh. Basically, I can only sit down and look pretty. The thing is that I do not think that I look pretty to him.

She is my demon. She is my nightmare. Damn her. Lucky. How about me?

Him? He is my high. Two minutes of unicorns and butterflies before he starts talking about her again. Then the demons start.

Perhaps, I should stop talking to him. Maybe. Just like how I stopped being high.  Then, I could say goodbye to the nightmares and to the demons. Then, she won’t bother me as much.

I tried. I tried ignoring him. Then he would ask what was wrong. How could I possibly tell him? It is like being high all over again. I can’t tell him. I don’t need help. Especially his.

It was the routine. Two minutes of heaven then hours of hell. How lucky she must be. How about me?

Ignoring him was harder than I thought. It was a worse feeling than being on high. It hurts more. Like his absence was itching into my soul, scratching a hole into it. It hurt more.

Lesser than two evils. So, I would be the great gal that listens to him. That awesome one that always supports him. I just have to let it eat me away and just smile until my smile is frozen. Then, maybe. Just maybe. It won’t hurt so bad. Or if I’m lucky, I would forget that I am hurting at all.

Look How They Shine

This post is my reply to Daily Post’s Discovery Challenge which is for me to blog about a pique to one of the senses.

So, this is me, naturally, pushing myself to blog something related to one of the hardest senses to describe; hearing. Let me talk about my latest favorite song. Good luck to me…

Guitar strumming

Tap, Tap, tap tap.
Tap, Tap, tap tap.
Tap, Tap, tap tap.
Tap, Tap, tap tap.

The interlude is that simple. A four-tap pattern repeated four times in different tempos to make one cycle. Then, the cycle is repeated four times before the lyrics start.

Space. Love. Color.

Act. Love. Color.
Act. Love. Color.

Beauty. Love. Love.

Then the instrumental continues with four beats repeated four times in four cycles. And then the lyrics continue.

Act. Love. Color.
Act. Love. Color.

Beauty. Love. Sacrifice.

That beautiful ‘four’ piece again. Before the closing lyrics.

Space. Love. Space.
Space. Love. Space.

Space. Love.

I love this song as it is a mix of mellow rock sounds with simple romantic words. It is an oxymoron in itself as to how a hard and cold person is capable of expressing something so soft and warm.

The instrumental is simple. The lyrics are simpler as it is actually repetitive but the content is progressive. It shows the gradual intensity of an emotion that was already there. It exhibits the bounds of the emotion. It has none.

The song is an expression of how something can mean so much to a person to the point of making this great and unspeakable. Call it the epitome of cheesy but that is what you get when you look at the stars at night and all you see is the specks of yellow.

The Definition of Love

Happy Valentine’s Day, lovelies! The Day of Hearts.

Ah, love. That fuzzy feeling when you see your beloved walk by. That butterfly buzzing in your stomach when you feel that kiss coming close. That warmth that devours your whole body after just being held by two hands. Beautiful, isn’t it?

We all know what love is. Even a five-year-old does. My own definition of love is similiar to how Plato would define it in his Symposium. Love is the pursuit of beauty and wisdom. Love is an acronym, actually. (Yeah, I’m going to stick with this. Prepare to be amused.)

L
Learning to desire your whole self.

Don’t you dream waking up every morning and looking at yourself in the mirror and just say ‘Hello, beautiful’ to your reflection? Except, you have that large zit on your forehead. Except that you have that scar that you got from that accident back when you were 13. Except that you have crooked teeth. Except you have that large mole. Except you have that disaligned eye. Except you have those pudgy cheeks. Except you have that slab of skin on the side of your head that is the closest thing that you have to an ear. And that is only your face.

How depressing is that? No wonder you are not a morning person. And you see the folks on TV have perfect faces and bodies. Life is just not fair.

Guess what? No, sorry. Never will life be fair. But it will get better. Look at the mirror again. Look, such long lashes. See those bushy brows that have not need for eyebrow kits? Make-up savings! See that large mole? Look how it leads the eyes to look at your lips. Aren’t you so kissable? Cheeks, smeeks. Did you look at your nose? So cute! Did you get a good look at your eyes lately? Browns, speckled with orange dots and gray lines if you look close enough. Brown that melts whenever your laugh lines show up as you crack that winning smile. Ooh, such a nice tan. Most would covet and achieve that only to grab a high dosage of sunburn. Saw that? Ah, beautiful. And that is only your face.

Learning to accept yourself fully is essential to love. Like I said, life is not fair. Don’t expect it to be. You will have flaws. Sometimes, more visible than others. But, that makes us human. Love is looking for the beauty in things. According to the Scriptures, loving another is parallel to loving oneself. Treat yourself poorly and expect that you will do the same to others. Then again, how can you possibly love yourself if you are three sizes larger than the norm?

To love oneself is a matter of choice. Those flaws are a part of you. Deal with it. Or do something about it. There are liposuction, breast enlargement, nose lift, and many other treatments that you can choose from. Personally, don’t. Change something about your appearance is exactly the same is having someone change something about themselves. Ask your lover to quit their videogaming as if it is quintessential to your love life is exactly the same as having a cosmetic surgery so that you will feel more beautiful. It is unfair. So, does that mean if your lover refuses to ditch the gaming then you will stop loving him? So if you don’t get that nose lift means that you would not find yourself pretty enough? What kind of love is that?

There is nothing wrong with enhancement. Just, try not to change anything that you were born with unless it will affect your health if not dealt with. Go on, say ‘Hey, Beautiful.’

O
Openly seek more about another

Remember when you are attracted to someone and you want to know everything that is to know about them? Likes. Dislikes. Family. Aspirations. Mistakes. Goals. Dreams. Hobbies. Passions. Interests. That is you seeking more of the beauty that you initially saw in that person. That is you seeking more of the wisdom or of what is more to be learned from him. Remember that feeling of being interested in everything that he was trying to say? How thick should a proper stilleto be? What codes should you use when you want to win Warcraft? Why those kind of ties are better than the others? Why that player is the underdog?

Honestly, would you freaking care if another person told you those things? Yet, with that person, it sounded important. It sounded like it mattered. It did matter. To you. To that person. Hallelujah.

With love, normally trivial things sound so beautiful and so important. That story about her being denied the chance to compete? Now, you know why she is so determined. That time when he told you how rude his customers were to him as he served them? No wonder he is so polite. Each story that is being uttered becomes a puzzle piece to his person. You pick up the pieces and fit it in the frame, smiling to yourself as you do. And you find yourself in front of a complete picture full of different pieces. And you found it astoundingly beautiful. And you found yourself pleasantly wiser and fuller as well.

V
Value the moment

There is this one quote in the movie Jupiter Ascending that I find more true than any other movie quote that I have ever heard. The only commodity that really matters is time.

Once it passes, it is gone. And we can only breathe for so long. Relish the present. Look around. Sniff the air. Stare into his eyes. Memorize that smile. Once that moment passes, it is gone and you just have to beg for your memory to retain it. That is what makes love for each person so unique. It is the memories that formed in the relationship. The memories are the differentiation between love for your parents to romantic love.

It is a discipline for most to be mindful of the present. It is an even more difficult discipline to find the positive and the beautiful in every moment even if it is a bad one. The both of you are shouting your mouths off? Hey, he cares enough to be angry. Be afraid of the day that he does not react when you do a mistake. He is sick and your date is cancelled? Guess what, grab that opportunity and bring some soup over and a movie too. Or maybe a video game. Make him better and make him happy. Aren’t you a sweetie?

E
Evolve

Love changes everything. The hard becomes soft. The soft becomes hard. The weak becomes strong. The strong becomes weak. To be in love is to accept that you are changing. You are changing for the better. You are evolving. You are preparing to accommodate more love and to give more love as well.

They say that girls bloom when they are in love. The boys exude more confidence and strength when in love. Love gives motivation a whole new meaning. Love lifts you up. Love makes you do incredible things. You can lift ten thousand men. You can fly around the world. You can beat Superman in armwrestling.

So, love is this incredible drug that makes you evolve and become better faster than any kind of steroid ever can. Love is the search of beauty and wisdom. Once you see it, you consume it until you find yourself beautiful and wise. Once you find love, in yourself and/or in others, you find yourself smiling at your reflection despite having that lump of morning glory clogged at the inner corner of your eye.

That is love. Beautiful and wise.
Now, if you decide to become a lover then you might as well learn the last letter.

R
Relationship Reciprocal

In the English language, adding an -r/-er to a verb makes it a noun that is defined as a doers of the original verb. So, a lover is a doer of love.

So, to be a lover, you need to reciprocate the love that you receive. Hello, congratulations, you are in a relationship. You give. You take. Because, if you do not then you are not a lover. You are just a recipient. A lovee, if there is such a term. And honestly, it will be tragic. No true love is unrequitedly in vain.

Love. Such a beautiful word. Lover. A more beautiful word. Are you in love? Would it be nice if we all were? Not just with someone. But with ourselves as well.

Happy Valentine’s Day to all! Tell me your thoughts. What are your ideas about love?

#365Planes: A 2016 Daily Project

For one of my last posts for Blogtober last 2015, I made the decision of announcing that I will be doing a daily project for the next 365 days of 2016. I am already a week in and I could not be happier.

I will not be redundant and explain everything as to why I came up with that decision. Perhaps an overview would be enough. Art. Instagram. Book. Noah Scalin. Journal. Planes. Execution. There.

Why planes?

It does seem a bit of an obvious choice since I am a flight attendant by profession. Although the concept of flying became more to me than moving from point A to point B. I invested blood, sweat, tears just to have this career. I ditched friends, art, and companionship just to be here. I have never worked so hard for anything in my entire life.

My motivation was that there was no plan B. If I fail at becoming a flight attendant then I am screwed. My family was counting on me. I was pushed to be in the airline industry and nothing else. The travel would entertain me. The service would keep me excited. The benefits would make my family secure. I had so much to lose if I failed.

Planes. I guess it signifies how one works for something so hard. This was just not a simple “I wanna be” dream. The hard work and sacrifice that people go through just for the sake of their loved ones. It is a spectacle so pure and amazing that I could compare it to looking out of the airplane window and seeing the brightest blue sky littered with the purest white clouds. Postcard perfect.

We work for the take off. We struggle to maintain altitude. We fight through the turbulence. We soar through the skies. We prepare for the landing. We pray and we hope and we beg that we do not crash and burn during the whole process.

Once we reach touchdown, we sigh and smile. Mission accomplished. Then we check and will be surprised to see how much miles have we covered and how many places have we passed through. We were certainly not the same planes that took that take off roll. The skies have a certain magic that changes us.

#365Planes is for us that works hard and will work harder until we reach our destination. It is for us who fuel ourselves with our own stories and our own intentions. It is for us who uses that fuel to move up then forward.

#365Planes is for 2016. May this year guide us as we all soar to the heavens.

For this ongoing project, please do check out my Instagram at instagram.com/cavilleta

Christmas for the PH by the PH

I love living in the Philippines. No offense, I’m sure your country is awesome too.
We have the best, and I mean THE BEST, Christmas season in the whole world.
DISCLAIMER: I am a girl who refuses to watch the 2015 season of Cats the Musical in London even if I can and even if Nicole Scherzinger is playing the lead. That is because I don’t want to erase the memory of watching Lea Salonga portray Grizella when the musical came to the Philippines. I am a girl who refuses to use those great cosmetic brands from Sephora unless they don’t have a counterpart product at Happy Skin Philippines. I am a girl that has the complete discography of Urbandub, Up Dharma Down, Eraserheads, and Sponge Cola (all local artists) beside the albums of Coldplay, The Script, Queen, and Lady Gaga on my mp3 player. So, like how I expressed in my previous post, I am highly biased to anything Filipino.

This I say to you. I am NOT biased when I say that we have the best Christmas. Officially, the Christmas season here starts in the middle of September until halfway through February the following year. You read it, people. We celebrate Christmas for half a year. Even if it is Valentine’s Day, it is still Christmas! The season starts at the 100-day countdown to Christmas Day and ends when no one is talking about or celebrating Christmas anymore which happens by halfway to the end of February.

Why is Christmas the BEST in the PH

1. We have exclusive Christmas season delicacies
2. We have lights everywhere
3. We have our own version of the Christmas lantern
4. We have an international festival dedicated to that lantern
5. Christmas bazaars everywhere
6. Pop-up Christmas theme locations
7. Parties everywhere
8. Singing and concerts everywhere
9. The cheap becomes cheaper
10. Exclusive (I think) Christian traditions
11. Gifts, gifts, gifts, gifts.

I could make a whole set of blog entries out of the Filipino Christmas season. Hm, I’ll do just that!

Now, you see why I love Christmas more than my own birthday?
As a Filipino, it may be weird but NONE of the items above can define why I love Christmas. Although, it may help but Christmas has a different meaning for me.

When I was a child, I would sit by our Christmas tree at home. Just that. I like how tall it was compared to my height. I like how the decorations were placed on the plastic leafy branches. What I like best were the fairy lights snaking up and around the tree. I would squint my eyes and stare into the lights until they appeared blurred and bursting. Then, I would pretend that they were stars. I would sometimes reach to hold the light and pretend that I was touching an actual star. There were times when I would not squint my eyes but still hold the tiny light bulb between my index finger and thumb. I would fascinate myself with how red my fingertips would look like due to the translucence of my own skin. Then, I would pretend that I had fire powers.

When I was a child, I always get excited when it was already time to decorate the house. It was not like I involved myself in the theme and planning. My mom was part of that. I was already happy with opening the box of decorations or with handing to my Mom the specific flower decoration that she needed to attach to the staircase wreath. If I was lucky, I would be given the task of spreading those thin icicle like confetti around the Christmas tree branches, making sure that it looked evenly distributed.

When I was a child, I was excited whenever we would go to the mall. It was not because we can go Christmas shopping. We were brought up with the mentality of not buying what we wanted. I was excited because we will get to see the Christmas decorations in the mall and the costumed attendants and the Christmas section of the home department of the mall.

When I was a child, I was excited for the yearly clan reunion. It was the only time of the year that I get to see my cousins and aunts and uncles. We would eat homemade catered dinner, play party games, and sing.

When I was a child, I was excited for Christmas Eve (The Filipino equivalent of Christmas morning). At the strike of twelve, the whole family would eat the grand feast that our parents made for us while watching a holiday TV special or a movie. Then, we would go to the Christmas tree and open our presents. Then, we would sleep and when we wake up then we eat the leftover Christmas meal and go out of the house.

When I was a child, I was excited to sit at the window seat of any vehicle. I always kept my eye out for the Christmas lights decorated on the houses and street lamps as we pass by.

A decade later, I am still excited. Christmas is important to me because it was the time of the year that I am forcefully reminded that I am still a child. I am a child that still lets her mind wander. I am a child that still gets fascinated by lights and colors. I am a child that still looks forward to the company of family. I am a child that still loves the simple things.

That is what Christmas is to me. It is the season that amplifies who I am as a person. I still get tingles whenever I read stories and listen to music. I still get amused at accent colors and the latest Christmas themes. Even I can spend Christmas in London or watch the ball drop in Times Square, NY during New Year’s Eve, as long as there is a family waiting for me at home then I will be spending Christmas and New Year at home. I just pray that I would stay the same during the next and the next holiday season.

Do you feel the same about Christmas? What does Christmas mean to you? What are the best parts of your holiday rituals? Tell me all about it.

Blogtober Challenge 28: Christmas for Grown-Ups

This must be the most challenging one so far. Today’s challenge is about Christmas lists. Funny, isn’t it? The past few challenges were easy for me that I got drafts written days before the actual challenge. I have a framework for every post until the end. But, for this one, I had a blank one.

This is my first chance that I have ever experienced not having a Christmas list. I recall last year that I was wishing for any modern publication and those 4-in-1 smartphone clip lens. Now that I think of it, I made that wish because I was compelled to because of an gift exchange activity that I had with my closest friends. I got both. The year before that I wished for a specific book (can’t remember what) because of a similar activity among my training class. I got a coffee maker instead. I did not mind. 2013 was the best year of my existence anyway.

If those activities did not exist then I would not have a Christmas list to make in the first place.

During my school days, I always had an extensive list and it was more or less the same because I did not get it. I would wish for a PSP, a Sponge Cola CD, the latest phone, and other things. I got none of those during Christmas. I may be a gamer but my last portable gaming console was the Brick Game. I got the Sponge Cola CDs only within the school year when I have enough funds from all the sidetrip selling that I was doing. I never got the latest phone. Still don’t have it. I have phones that are at least 5 years behind the latest model.

I was happy nevertheless. I received things that I did not know that I wanted during Christmas (and other holidays). A candy pink Kate Spade handbag. A Doctor Who anthology book. A PS3. A wide array of coloring materials. A licensed replica of the Elder Wand. A light-up Marauders’ Map. A Twilight paperback (In my honest opinion, the series was a nice read. I am not a fan of the movies though. Sorry.) A Potatohead Family toy collection. So on and so forth. They were all amazing surprises.

I was happy nevertheless. I was raised not to get attached to material things. If I did not get what I want then it was okay. There is always a next time. If not, then something better will always come.

At the end of the day or in this case the year, I may not get what I wanted but I get what I needed.

I graduated with a bachelor’s degree with enough recognition to make my parents smile with glee whenever they talk about my schooling to others. I am getting healthier and healthier each year. I got the job of our dreams as a family. I live in our family-owned house. I never begged for scraps. I was born into a family of five. We are still five in the family. I grew up with my folks always at home.

Perhaps, that is why I learned to not make Christmas wishes. I have no need to ask for what I need. I’m just lucky, I guess.

I am a hypocrite if I will say that I do not aspire material things anymore. I want a portable Bluetooth speaker. I want a portable Android-compatible keyboard with a detachable MicroUSB cord. I still want a phone but not the latest but the one that feels as if it was designed personally for me. I want a car. I want my own residential unit. I want a replica of David Tennant’s Doctor’s brown trenchcoat (Imagine walking or running around London wearing it. Ahh). I want a pair of Nike Fly Knits.

Why am I not asking them for Christmas? Because I know I will have them someday so there is no need. Plus, I doubt I would have any of them by Christmas.

I love Christmas. I love it more than my own birthday. So, for this Christmas, I am making a Christmas list. This is not because I am compelled by this task. It is because I am compelled by the experiences that I have gone through this past two years.

1. I wish for the optimum health possible for my family for years to come.

My grandfather died last year. I knew that day would come eventually. I thought I was prepared. More than a year later, I still lament when I think of him. I don’t think that I could take it if I lose another family member. Don’t mind me. I’d wager my own health for the assurance of a long lifespan for each member of our family.

2. I wish for more opportunities for the Philippines and its people.

Like I said before, we have great potential. I will be extremely glad if more Filipinos get recognized nationally and internationally not only because of their beauty but also of their intellect, talent, and skill. I will also be extremely glad if the Filipino people will help one another in lifting each other up for a better nation for more generations to come. As of the current, the Philippines is number one in the list of most corrupt nations, worst traffic schemes, and worst airports. Good, right?

3. I wish for more environmental consciousness and action worldwide.

Ever since, I have been eco-conscious. I throw my garbage in the right places. I avoid plastic and styrofoam. I maximize paper. I recycle things. I upcycle. Things had been unsettling. This time last year, I remember shivering to the bone when I am in Korea. I remember wrapping myself in a blanket during the evening at home. I remember wearing a leather jacket because I want to and not because I need to. This year, I can roam around the cold parts of the world with less layers than I did last year. I break a sweat whenever I am home despite the rainy season. It is even too hot for me to wear long sleeves. What more a jacket? Is it because I am getting used to the cold? Is it because the world is getting hotter? Please God, make it the former.

The United Nations has recently launched the Global Goals worldwide campaign. If you have an advocacy that you are passionate about then please do go check it out. Honestly, you don’t need to be passionate. A little concern goes a long way.

So, that is my 2015 Christmas wishlist. I will have my toes crossed and my fingers working to have it fulfilled. I believe that wishes are just words if you don’t take action.

What is your wish list this Christmas?

Blogtober Challenge 18: I Should Have Known

Forgive me for sounding redundant. The next challenge for Blogtober is that I share some things that I should have known five years ago.

I was 18 years old five years ago. Looking back, I realized that the girl from five years ago does not exist anymore.

I have learned and experienced so much during the course of five years that it evolved me into the person that I am today.

Those are things that if my 18-year-old knew and experienced during that time then she would be distraught beyond her mind.

So, no. As with the future, I have no  to foresee or in this case to undo my past. There is nothing that I would wish to inform my younger self.

There is a reason why and when things happen. I believe that whatever achievement or trial that we experience in whatever point of our life is timed at that moment for a reason.

Sure, I could easily tell my younger self all the preparations and solutions that she should take in the future. I could easily tell her the mistakes that I made and how she should avoid such.

But, I won’t.

I told you. I do not like to know what is about to happen. Where is the fun in that? That is like playing an RPG game while reading it’s complete guide and following it to the last letter. You may achieve happily ever after but the experience would not be as fulfilling as if you figured things out for yourself.

Call it spoiler-phobia if you will.

How about you? What are your thoughts on what to say to your younger self?

Challenging A Bestseller Challenges Me Back: For One More Day

A Review on Mitch Albom’s For One More Day

I am inexplicably in love with books. If most are addicted to shopping for clothes, my wallet always attends a losing battle whenever I am inside a bookstore. If there is a sickness for it then I have it. The downside is that I have not read a book for a year. I have been busy. It is a lousy excuse, I know.

So anyway, I decided to pick up a book from my large shelf of unread finds. I was all like what is the deal with Mitch Albom? So, I picked up For One More Day. I bought it on a whim at a thrift shop a few months back. The latest publication that I ever read was Divergent. I am not aware of how these modern authors write. So I wanted to see what is the big deal.

Half a day and a whole book read later, I was lying across my bed, staring at the paper plane mobile hanging above me. I was crying.

One tear fell from each outer corner of my eyes. Their journey was painfully slow as they travelled down my temple then behind my ear to the finish line of my nape. It was like a race between a snail and a turtle. I had to go up to my room, the tears were already threatening to fall as I was reading the last few pages of the book. I did not want to make a fuss of being noticed by my mom while I was reading on the couch in the living room.

I stayed there for a good seven minutes before I collected myself and went back downstairs, leaving the book on my bed.

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Blogtober Challenge 5: Some Things Never Get Old

I promised myself that I will never reveal what I look like while I am in this blog. Struggling To Be A Human Being is aimed to rescue people from indifference and to show as many sides of one’s story as possible. I feel it important to hide my identity because of this.

I could be anyone. I could be the girl that you bullied at school. I could be that hot shot cheerleader. I could be that King/Queen of the Night. I could be one of the jocks? What if I was the one who ate boogers while in class? I could be your crummy boss. I could be that guy you every morning drinking coffee from the machine. I could be the one with the walker crossing the street yet refuses help from the young ones. I could be that notorious womanizer. I could be the one in the park surrounded by a lot of kids/dogs/birds. I could be your subordinate. I could be your senior. I could be your equal. I could be your friend. I could be your enemy. There is a story to each one.

Unlucky for me, the fifth Blogtober challenge compels me to share an old photo of myself.

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