In Another Universe

Doing one mindless but quirky thing before I hit the sheets after a long and tiring day.

This was stolen from Sumi's blog.

If were a month, I’d be December. Save the best for last.
If I were a day of the week, I’d be Thursday. Because it is the new Friday.
If I were a time of day, I’d be sunset. I'm a sunset person. There's just something about sunsets.
If I were a season, I’d be springer. Just between spring and summer.
If I were a planet, I’d be Neptune. I think its bright blue is a nice highlight in our solar system.
If I were a sea animal, I’d be a blue whale. I'm not, though. But I'd LOVE to snorkel with one. I will. I really will.
If I were a direction, I’d be West. Where the sun sets. (I'll blog about sunsets soon.)
If I were a piece of furniture, I’d be a day bed. Perfect for taking naps and reading.
If I were a liquid, I’d be Water.
If I were a tree, I’d be a Pili tree.
If I were a tool, I’d be a Swiss knife. It's multipurpose.
If I were an element, I’d be Hydrogen. So I can see the beginning of the universe.
If I were a gemstone, I’d be ruby.
If I were a musical instrument, I’d be a piano. I miss playing one.
If I were a color, I’d be Crayon Red.
If I were an emotion, I’d be that warm, fuzzy and indescribable feeling. The one that sends tingles up and down your spine.
If I were a fruit, I’d be an apple.
If I were a sound, I’d be the waves crashing against the shore. I miss the beach :(
If I were a car, I’d be a Hummer.
If I were food, I’d be oatmeal.
If I were a taste, I’d be sweet. Definitely sweet.
If I were a scent, I’d be D&G Light Blue. I swear, its creators put a drop of love potion in it.
If I were a pair of shoes, I’d be FM shoes.
If I were a bird, I’d be a penguin. I've never seen so much love among animals.
And last but not the least, if I were you, I’d go drinking right now. Because you don't have to be up so early tomorrow.

Guten Nacht! Schlaft gut!

Carpe Diem

(This was written on September 15, 2008. Reposting it here.)

This week has been one of the most "happening" weeks of my life. (Yup, a LOT of things happened). It's like the person who started the week is somehow different from the person who came out at the end of it -- well, kind of (I'd like to think so). It sounds so cliche but I kinda learned what it meant to live in the moment and be really in touch with myself -- without caring how other people think of you, without worrying what's going to happen tomorrow, without regretting the past.

...because it's when we live each moment and not just skim through it that we get to appreciate how wonderful our life is. and when I say moment, I mean every emotion, thought, memory, joy, and pain...every kiss, tear, breath, heartbeat, and tingle down the spine. It's in being filled with the smell of the sea, feeling the sand between your toes, or hearing the waves splash against the shore. It's in every person you meet, every song that you hear, and every beautiful little thing that you see. It's in every surprise text you receive or every great conversation you have even with people you've just met. It's in anything and everything that makes you feel alive.

At times, it's great to be alone and learn to trust yourself once again. It's in loving -- truly loving -- the company you share with yourself that you feel complete and that you feel you have so much to give.

What Makes a Good Death?

"No Name" by Albrecht Graf Wickenburg

In the dark of elm trees, shaded

crosses stare upon the faded

Danube strand.

But no epitaph is keeping

record of the drowned here sleeping

in the sand.

Quiet are the verdant meadows

and the Danube's rolling shadows

make no sound.

They are sleeping here together,

whom the river's silent tether

brought around.

All, who here are congregating,

drove despair in waves, abating

fate and shame.

Hence their crosses, solitary

like the crosses they did carry,

spell: "No Name".

This is the poem at the gate of the "Friedhof der Namenlosen" or "Cemetery of the Nameless." I visited this cemetery on my first day in Vienna. It was quite ironic because right before that, I was at the Zentralfriedhof or Central Cemetery where people I consider legendary (like Beethoven and Viktor Frankl) were buried.

It made me think how a simple epitaph on a gravestone makes a world of difference. When we die, people's memory of how we had lived somehow immortalizes us. Like when you see an epitaph saying "Wife, Mother, Friend," you would know whom this person meant so much to.

Most of the people who were buried at the Cemetery of the Nameless died because of suicide; their bodies were found on the bank of the Danube River. They might have been buried properly, but no one had an idea what their full names were, why they died, who their families were, what jobs they had, what their passions were. Some of these people died at 60. They might have children and grandchildren. They might have lived rich and happy lives at some point, but because they were buried without a name, it's like not having lived in this world at all.

I told the woman I met at the train about my visit and showed her the pictures. She told me something very touching. She has a friend who visits the cemetery twice a week. She does not have any idea how the people who were buried there lived, but it's her simple way of acknowledging that they lived.

Until now, I am still quite confused on how I feel about it.

On the one hand, it would be great to be remembered by future generations. It would be great to have your name spoken even by those who have not come to know you when you were still alive.

On the other hand, the people buried at the Cemetery of the Nameless may have touched lives around them and inspired people in their own time (something future generations will never come to know). And maybe to them, that was the only thing that mattered.

Before Sunrise Trail in Vienna

I'm currently in Vienna. Unlike my other trips, this one is pretty special. A little bit on the crazy and ridiculous side, but special nonetheless.

You see, I really love the movie "Before Sunrise." It has helped shape my impression on how good and long-lasting relationships should be founded on great conversation and chemistry - among other things. Think about it: When couples grow old, they wouldn't have the energy to do the things they used to do in their younger years. Instead, they sit on the porch and talk. They may have grandchildren and great-grandchildren to watch grow up, but when they're alone, they talk. Or just sit in comfortable silence with each other. (I don't think 85-year-old couples with rheumatism and curved spines would find Viagra useful.)

This movie shows how both of these can be possible even upon just meeting the other person. It's amazing how it starts with attraction and small talk, followed by sincere curiosity, affection, and then deep respect. When I see married couples today whose relationship has been reduced to mere partnership - i.e. sharing of roles in the household, etc. - it scares me that there's actually a possibility that something that started so sweet and rosy can end up stale, or worse (for some couples), hostile. How could they have not known that it is in the other person to be selfish? To be impatient? To be so caught up with work? How could they have not known the other person well enough in the first place? How could they marry someone they do not fully know?

Knowing the other may take shared experience over time, but I think great conversations should be the start of it all. What I find so amazing in these conversations is how the worlds and souls of two unique and independent individuals are shared with each other just through words and expressions, through questions and answers. How life becomes so much clearer and more meaningful because of this simple yet profound exchange. Great conversations affirm how much of yourself you'd want to share with the other and how much you'd want to know about the other. It is only upon really knowing someone that you can fully respect him. And you would want to sit on that porch with someone whom you deeply respect - his views, his values, his core, his character. (I believe that physical intimacy is but a manifestation of such a connection and is never the basis of good relationships.)

Here's the first part of the movie to give you an idea.

So. I was in the train to Vienna this morning and it struck me how ridiculous this venture was. I came all the way to Vienna just to take pictures of the location shots of this movie (I'll post an album soon). I could download the photos and save them - but why did I have this urge in the first place? I remember in Phuket writing down my bucket list of destinations, and "Before Sunrise location shots" was one of them. I thought about it this morning. Some people would say that I'm this hopeless romantic who would want to recreate the Before Sunrise experience for myself - i.e. meet a guy in the train and "the rest is history." Nope, I'm not that crazy and idealistic (and my tita is with me the whole time haha.) I also love the movies 500 Days of Summer and Only You, but why don't I have this urge to go to Los Angeles or Italy?

I guess it's a strong (and expensive) reminder I'm giving myself to never settle for something just because it's practical and convenient. That movie really made an impression on me and maybe I just won't allow myself to forget what I learned from it.

Then again...maybe I'm just crazy and ridiculous. :)

(Side note: If there's one thing you have to know about me, the strongest basis of any personal decision is whether it feels right. Then I think of the reasons why it made me feel right. Others find it weird and foolish, but that's me.)