Archive for ‘Love’

22 May 2014

Life’s a b*tch and then Juanderkid dies.

by misslampa
Amer, more popularly known as the blogger Juanderkid was all about finding and spreading light and love.

Amer, more popularly known as the blogger Juanderkid, was all about finding and giving light and love.

 

The week former Department of Interior and Local Government Sec. Jesse Robredo passed away, you wrote what remains to be my most favorite Amer Amor quote of all time:

What does [death] tell us about life? That it is indeed fleeting. That we should always be grateful. That a life well-lived and well-served will be remembered long after we’re gone. And that we should not delay love. We should not delay love.

You simultaneously touched on loving and living a full life and being grateful for everything – things we relentlessly talked about whenever and wherever we wanted to indulge our patriotic, hopeful, dream-big selves. It didn’t matter whether we were exploring the cobblestone streets of Intramuros together or simply exchanging messages on Facebook or WordPress at two in the morning; we’d find a way to feed off of each other’s positive energy, love of travel, and addiction to stunning sunsets.

 

We were supposed to have a repeat of this soon. I guess this means we're gonna get stood up.

We were supposed to have a repeat of this soon. I guess this means we’re going to get stood up.

But I don’t know how to proceed from here, now that it’s you who’s gone. I’m sorry, but right now, I couldn’t care less about all the prose and positivity in the world.

Alam mo, I just find myself really, really stumped.

I was so certain I’d see you again sometime this month or the next, you know. So much so that I had the gall to repeatedly say no whenever you asked for details when you found out I’ve fallen for this awesome guy while I was living overseas.

Anuba! ikuwento mo na kasi, Donna. May malalim kang pinaghuhugutan.

Saka na ‘pag nagkita na lang tayo, Amer. Wala namang masyadong ikukuwento. I think hinayaan ko siyang matapos bago pa man masimulan.

Kahit na. ‘Yan ang mga the best na love story.

And so to make you stop, I’d laugh and tell you I miss you and I love you and I’d tell you about it in time. It was the only time I remember saying no to you because for the most part, ours had been a giving relationship, of supporting each other’s dreams and simply letting the other be. Of not sweating the small stuff whenever meet-ups got cancelled or promises weren’t kept. Of poking fun at each other’s quirks and sharing our intense hatred for incorrectly used expressions and phrasal verbs. (I can still hear you ranting about why people keep using “touchdown” to announce their arrival in a city or town when they didn’t even take the plane to get there. Wala namang gulong ng eroplano na nag-touchdown, ano kaya ‘yon?)

I was looking forward to years and years of our crazy little talks and adventures, dude. :(

I was looking forward to years and years of crazy little talks and adventures with you. :(

I don’t even know why I said no and chose to delay love that one time, Amer. But if telling you all about it now could bring you back, I’d bore you with everything I can remember about that non-love story. I’d break our journalism code of ethics even and throw in some details that never happened if that would mean I’d get to hear you laugh and see your face light up again. Anything to undo the motorcycle accident that took you. Anything to keep me from having to grapple with the reality that you are gone too soon, and for good.

Because in all honesty, of all the plot twists that could ever happen in this life, this having to dream and do and explore and love without you from here on out was something I never saw coming.

Which is also why exactly a week after you’ve left, I’m still bereft of whatever life skill or mindset can get me through this grief. I’m just really, really sad that you had to go.

I still can’t bring myself to say goodbye, Amer. And I’m not sure how long it’d take until things start to make sense. But I’m hoping you’re happy and at peace wheresoever you are Juandering now. I imagine the sunsets we’re so crazy about look even more magnificent from where you’re now watching them.

Also, I bet there’s no one there to infuriate you anymore by using “touchdown” incorrectly. And because I love you, I’m going to try very, very hard to at least be happy about that.

 

 

 

 

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In memory of Amer Amor aka Juanderkid (23 Oct 1982 – 15 May 2014)

I miss you, I love you, and I'll see you on the other side. <3

I miss you, I love you, and I’ll see you on the other side. (PS: I took some of your pictures for this post. I hope that’s okay.)

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9 June 2013

A Wonderful Kind of Messed Up

by misslampa

It’s hell season in grad school once more, and just when I think I’ve gotten the hang of it, the extreme sleep deprivation starts to mess with my head.

 

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I’ve been doing this to myself lately. It’s been fun.

 

Take yesterday, for instance. I don’t know how I managed to lose my way as I was walking home from the uni. But I did – and in broad daylight at that, pfft. Instead of turning left on the street where my house is, I turned left on the street before it and groggily walked all the way to where my house would’ve been if I were on the right street. Then I looked at the strange Queenslander* which was there and went,

Hmm, that’s odd. Where did my house go?

I stared at the house for about thirty seconds and took a good look at the other houses in the area before it finally dawned on me that I took a wrong turn.

Ha! That was funny. And stupid. In equal measure.

But what really got me convinced that I’m losing it, though, was waking up this morning to vivid snippets of a dream I had about my very own wedding. I saw the face of my groom and those of my parents and closest gut friends. It was big and festive but informal. My wedding gown didn’t have a trail, and he looked dapper in a barong Tagalog. There was no photo booth and wedding souvenirs, but we served red wine and steak to all our guests. My mother’s face was radiant. I remember mentioning in my thank-you speech that ours was a whirlwind romance, but I said yes because I feel like I’ve known him for a very long time.

It was that vivid, that real.

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Daydreaming is best done under a red pine tree. It just looks better.

Now that freaks me out big time because I don’t remember ever dreaming about my wedding – unconsciously or otherwise. I dream about taking long and lazy train rides and getting a PhD and teaching in Africa for a year. I dream of watching the northern lights dance before my very eyes and getting fit enough to run a full marathon one day and yes, even finding true love. But weddings? Never.

Which is not to say I’ve written off all possibility of ever getting married. I hope to, but thinking about it just doesn’t come naturally to me. I’ve been told that’s uncharacteristic for a woman, but it’s really just the wedding bit I don’t daydream about. When I think of finding love, I imagine enjoying insightful conversations about the mundane and the profound over coffee. And exchanging private jokes on long and tiring road trips. And watching fireworks and sunsets and fireflies in comfortable silence.

So you see, it’s really just the wedding. Perhaps it’s my fear of commitment that has rendered me incapable of dreaming about getting married. I automatically equate weddings with forever, which I then automatically imagine as a painfully long time to promise to someone, more so if he turns out to be the wrong one.

Until now, that is.

So maybe something has changed? And I am about to break free? And I am on the verge of believing that weddings are grand and glorious and all that?

Of course, it could also just be the result of pulling too many all-nighters in a span of three weeks. So perhaps I should skip sleep some more then? I think it would be wonderful to get used to this wedding-dreaming, messed-up version of me. :))

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*a type of architecture usually found in Queensland and parts of New South Wales, Australia

17 March 2013

The Look of Love

by misslampa
Giddy and grateful, definitely. But in love? Whatever.

Giddy and grateful, definitely.
But in love? Whatevs.

 

At no other point in my life have I been told this often that I am sporting the look of love.

I don’t remember exactly when it began, just that people started pointing it out some time last year. There’s something about my aura in the pictures I post on Facebook, they say. Or something about my eyes when I remove my nerdy specs. Or something about my smile. And before I can even say a word, they follow up right away with query after query about this supposed someone who’s bringing this something  into my aura, about this guy who’s putting this something on my face.

They don’t use those words exactly. There are way too many somethings in the last paragraph, and of course, my friends are more eloquent than that.

So for the most part, they skip all the polite inquiry and just repeatedly accuse me of being in love.

And I, for the most part as well, just laugh it off. Then I attribute whatever it is they’re seeing to whatever I feel like saying at that moment – from living in a foreign country to getting enough sleep or even having better makeup skills.

It’s  one habit I’m starting to get good at, actually, which is why I was surprised when reading this bit on a message thread with my MA-classmates-turned-friends got me to shut up:

 

We are all different now… Donna has the look, hair, eyebrows… as if she is coming into a romance.

Here are some of my friends from the uni. Hieu is the pretty girl in a pink dress.

Here are some of my friends from the uni.
Hieu is the pretty girl in a pink dress.

 

It’s not the simple yet poetic phrasing that got me, I think, but the fact that the words came from someone who does not know me as well as everyone else who has been insisting all this time that that look on my face is the look of love.

Ha! It’s funny how we sometimes choose to ignore feedback from the universe until it’s delivered through someone who knows close to nothing about us.

Granted, Hieu’s not a complete stranger to me and we’ve actually become quite good friends. We’ve taken a lot of classes together and talked about life at and outside of grad school. But apart from classroom teaching and the English language and good food, she doesn’t know a lot about what and who I’ve loved in this lifetime. She’s not privy to what and who I’ve stopped loving, and more importantly, what and who have a hold on me still.

 

Because I can’t accuse her of prying into my affairs or insinuating something about my past or having an agenda, I’m left with no other choice but to listen and consider if there’s truth in what she’s saying.

So in the wee hours of this quiet Sunday morning, I stand in front of my bedroom mirror and stare at my reflection for a good five, ten minutes, all the while thinking of my other well-meaning friends who have dared to ask that one thing I don’t even dare ask myself these days:

 

"What and who has your heart, Donna? What and who do you love?"

“What and who has your heart, Donna? What and who do you love?” Ang hirap naman! (That’s such a tough question!)

 

I don’t have the answers just yet, so it’s a good thing I don’t feel such a strong urge to know them all at this point.

Likewise, I still don’t see that something which is supposedly in my aura or on my face. But at least, for the first time since it has been pointed out to me months ago, I’m starting to believe that it’s there. Ü

 

 

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Short but sweet thank-you’s go to Dee, Nasime, and Chris who took the pictures I used for this post.^^