Idiosyncrazy : Rude Awakening

By Jo





IT'S 4 IN THE @#$%^& morning. Do you know where your sanity is? I know mine isn't even in the vicinity of my person right now. Let's just say I was jolted awake by a man's voice. A strange man's loud voice. No, the voice didn't belong to some inebriated handsome but mysterious stranger who decided to tag along home with me. (Disclaimer: The house I was staying at was not my own.) Rather the owner of the alleged voice was some drunken male neighbor who had the brilliant idea of breaking out his Gary V. videoke collection and having a friggin’ ball with it.
I still love you so damn much. Whatever happens. Whatever happens between us. It kills me to see this end but I can’t force you to stay either. So just let me say it one last time.
And since this is neither my house or my neighborhood, hell if I can do anything about it.

Now I don't know what's worse—listening to him singing badly and brokenly along Mr. Pure Energy's Sana Maulit Muli at 4:23 a.m., or being able to hear every lyric of the song loud and clear.



WHEN WAS THE last time a song hit you so hard? So hard that it’s almost like a punch in the gut that knocks the wind out of you? Only this one leaves you with a lump in your throat and swollen tear glands with its reserves threatening to overflow.

While I’m not about to review this Gary Valenciano original which has been re-done countless times by various artists, I’ll say this much: they sure don't make OPM's like they used to—especially the love songs. And so ends my short take on it.

Rather what I’m about to do is deconstruct the very song that tears me to pieces every time I hear it.

Especially at a time like this.


Sana Maulit Muli
ang mga oras nating nakaraan
bakit nagkaganito?
Naglaho nga ba ang pagibig mo?

No opening lines have ever brought me to tears like these have. So simple and yet so brilliantly encapsulating all the questions and wishes of someone who stares helplessly at the end of something so wonderful.

Words that wonder and plead that the hands of time may be pushed back to the moment when it all began. To a past that you’d give anything to bring back. A time where everything was okay, where you both were so happy and love was evidently still there. Then there are those questions that ask what went wrong and where has the love gone. Questions that are usually left unanswered because the one person who could answer them has left you standing there in the cold.

Kung kaya kong iwanan ka
di na sana aasa pa

Goodbye. Such power in the finality of that single word that those who hear it are either left with no strength to move or enough energy to stand. In its wake people are left speechless, powerless to do anything but watch the retreating back of someone walking away. And yet, despite everything, some still hope. But then why hope? What's the use? What hope is there? How can someone even dare hope when there could clearly be no hope left?

Kung kaya kong umiwas lang
di na sana lalapit pa

And why is it so hard to say goodbye? Why is it so hard to just take that first step in the opposite direction? Is it a question of not having enough self-worth to pack up and leave or having the will to stay and fight for it, to make it work? Or even the good judgment to know the difference? When is enough, enough? Where does one draw the line? And how can one ever find enough courage to say the word, go and stay away long enough to heal from the hurt dealt by someone so damn close to your heart? How? When all you know you’ve found home in that person's arms?

Kung ako’y nagkamali minsan
di na ba mapagbibigyan
O giliw dinggin mo ang nais ko

A request. A plea. Hear me out. Just hear me out. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done. Does this have to cost me everything we had? Everything we’ve shared? Please. I’m sorry if O'm starting to sound selfish but how can wanting your forgiveness ever be so wrong?

Ito ang tanging nais ko
ang ating kahapon


sana maulit muli

It’s near impossible to bring things back the way they used to be. But there are those who wish for it anyway. Those who still believe in miracles. Who could blame them? Miracles do happen whether we believe in them or not, defying both reason and human comprehension. Who knows, right? Perhaps you can’t bring back the past, but you could have a stab at a beautiful future. That is, if you let it happen. If you choose for it to happen.

Mahal pa din kita…

That’s it. That’s just it. In the end it just comes down to that. I love you. I still love you. I still love you so damn much. Whatever happens. Whatever happens between us. It kills me to see this end but I can’t force you to stay either. So just let me say it one last time.



IT'S PAST 5 IN THE @#$%^& morning. Lord knows too early to be thinking about things I can’t do anything about. Way too early to be feeling things that I should do something about but can’t because of the dozens of excuses I’ve got lined up in my head.

I’ll get around dealing with it all eventually. But for now I’ll do what I can—like see if I can give that noisy neighbor a piece of my mind for wrecking my peace of mind at such an ungodly hour.

Incidentally, I just read somewhere that Love is a great wrecker of one's peace of mind.

Oh don’t I know it.







__________________________________

It would seem that heartbreak is the fuel for my writing, just as much as alcohol was to Edgar Allan Poe's. "

- Jo

ABOUT THE AUTHOR.    In her words, she's an ugly duckling turned into a late blooming Swan turned into an unexpected Mother Goose. Started writing poetry at 8 years old—however whether or not said poems are worthy of more than a mother's adoration still remains to be seen. The poetry continues in high school where a long-standing crush inspired many a cringe-worthy verse.

In college, the sting of unrequited love brought about a song or two—and the occasional outpouring of longing into the org's logbook. Eventually, essays or articles became the material of choice after graduating, still motivated strongly by unsuccesful forays in love. Joined peyups.com in 2004 as a columnist named taas_kilay. Under the banner, "idiosyncrazy" penned a couple of articles that spoke of relationships and real life.

On the topic of life, she moved to the United States late 2005. Upon becoming a mother in 2006, the writing petered out and was eventually put aside.

Writing a best-selling novel is still the ultimate dream, although hampered by her inability to go beyond 500 words due to lack of patience and endless self-editing. Perhaps when her boy turns into an angry, pre-pubescent teen that she'll find time to write again.

This isn't the first time she appears in this blog. The first time being here. 

Lastly, she keeps two blogs, one being limited to only friends, and another, more public one over here.