The absence of a spark

(Zoom camera..action!)

Nescafe moments...cold mornings.

The mini-component keeps on playing tunes from a local pop radio station known for its rather frequent visits and tie-ups with U.P. I've never pissed off my neighbor with such deafening sounds before. I could hear them mumbling about the cranked up music. I hope I haven't lost respect or decency. Well, to prove I have not, I decide to lower it. Once in a while, I play a cd from my personal collection, those cds mom doesn't really know exist, those I managed to buy after much saving and sacrifice of allowance.

But after much to do with nothing than stare in a lovely piece of art by my sister, I crank up the knob several decibel levels closer to ear-shattering.

I lie down, think of what to write in the next paragraph of this blog. Hmmm...nothing enters. Second hand ticks, tocks, I stare harder at the green paint of my room, the forming cobwebs outside, the graphic equalizer of the poor sound system.

Nothing new enters, the absence of a spark. Lexical, plainly speaking, nothing enters my mind.

I save face from this emptiness by trying to read the article downloads for tomorrow's culminating report/debate in PS 167. The action word try really can get rather frustrating. You're just trying until you actually do it. Poor lonely word: try...as if it belongs to another category...outside the more progressive verbs like run, dance, make love, kill.

Perhaps blog about Friday? Empty faces, masquerade of life anew. I decide not. Form matters to me, and as far as this entire blog compilation goes, I've had my fair share of talking about days and giving them much credit for the character of particular moments of my life. Enough of passing the blame. Enough of wondering why calendars move to the right and down.

Time to write something new. Nothing to do with days, my depressions according to some, my anxiety, trepidation stirring within before the breaking of my heart.

For aesthetics, for depth, enough of the old blogging ways. But in all starts, having an empty uninspired mind was never part of my plan. So I begin to wonder. Is it because you know so much it itches you to share them? Is it because you're blogging beside your boyfriend or girlfriend that's why you can't run out of exciting stories?

I wonder how life is when you always have someone to hold on to, someone not confined to your cellphone, someone who has reason to be in your house right beside you...caressing you, whispering tales of 1 flats and girl talk into your weary soul. I wonder what that luxury does to you. Indeed, things you can think of in the absence of a spark.

Tick tock. Perspiration slowly creeps down the side of my head to the handles of my glasses. The tickly sensation goes along with the washing away of the grime, the awful soft metallic paint scraped off my glasses. Stains on the skin. Residue of powder I put in my face while I impersonated Randy David and Mike Enriquez slowly gets blown off with something on my hair, maybe a snowflake maybe dandruff. Humidity warms my body. My soul is stirring.

To be quite frank, I have not taken good care of my body lately---the past years. I have dreadful eating habits, with a bad schedule. I am more carnivorous than Hannibal himself. I sleep less. I smile less, though all can see me trying. And try is all I can do.

What a lesser man am I? All I can do is try. Try to study, try to say hello, try to be friendly, try to love and satisfy that craving for something else outside my realm....outside my world, outside the cranked up radio, the PC, the noise of family downstairs, the ranting of my neighbor.

Am I dissatisfied? I know I am not. I just want more. The absence of a spark is just rather much of a hindrance. As if I've lost all word play the week over with a slur of questions from 110, reports here and there, an econ exam, extra-curricular stress specially from someone in Malacanang...the daily encounters of the lesser kind in our lives.

Then I sit, move to the computer chair, decide to blog on this. I toy with the mouse, pressing the maximize button and then minimizing the window. Illusions. Then I sigh. To the cabinet, my wardrobe I look. I noticed there has been some re-arrangements. New polos and shirts are in courtesy of Ate Sharon. The stipes, the buttons, the pockets...I could not even imagine myself wearing those. I inspect for creases, as if to inspect, and then smile for a while. I'm getting pretty graphic. I sit again to type about the latest developments.

There is no climax, no resolution. I won't even call it stress. That is unfair. That is a mere excuse.

The track shifts to number 9 "My Beautiful Woman". A quick smooth slick beat follows.

Shifting shadows of tree leaves from the backyard's tall tree plays around the blinders.

I dance a step or two, mindful of this observation and typing it. Something about that song. If the title says it all, there must be something wrong with my system. I dance to the tune that expresses desire of a woman??? There is something wrong.

I sip cold Hershey's milk chocolate. I put back my books and readings to the shelf. I notice the plastic wrapper I haven't used...and have no plans in using them to cover my books.

Thank God I passed Econ. Thank God my reports, and our (group) reports were given much commendation from the class and professors.

I sent a clear message to Celine and Farrah, reporters in 110 some nights back. Great speakers are not born, they're made. (When you get up there)...your mission? Get response (from your audience).

The framed pol sci batchamate picture on the study table reminds me of people in it. I develop inferiority complex when you're all around me. So please, do not pull yourself down.

Farrah asked me to comment on her performance. She heralded her own report as somewhat mediocre. Now, that is something for sore ears and tummies to me. I move along the picture from left to right in that Galleria 3 shot. Some chemistry within tickles my stomach. Then it comes to me, my little word of encouragement: "Kung duda kayo sa sarili niyo, paano na ang hamak na tulad ko?" It was vivid and then clearer what I said in reply: "Hindi. Kung pangit man yun hindi halata."---as if to comfort her. I do not intend to pull myself down to put others up in the pedestal. That's lying. When I say you are good, when I tell a friend that he or she impressed me...I mean it. A lot of people who have interest in this fine lady, or other great ladies I know should read my blogs. There...be mesmerized.

Celine. sure enjoyed that short Ikot jeepney stint. When girl friends continuously tell me stories, the more I try to establish eye contact. Thanks for the energy. Too bad 110 is an exam away.

Marian, answer his call. Be the woman you are meant to be.

One of the indicators you've found your one is when she gives you chance to converse and spills it out. When her stories never cease and she taps you or squeezes you as if a friend. Then it hits you. This lady doesn't just care for you as a friend, she is willing to dig deeper. When you look back straight into her eyes and become lost in her stories, you just try but you know trying won't bring you victory. You succumb. You feel so light, heart pounds. If only you could say something to make her go on and take off her outer defenses in the process. If only you held the keys to her heart. If only time and space could bring you a tat closer, when shes doesn't avoid you and you don't fear her presence.

I've tried to give full account of this phase and my small room. It is hunting time in Siberia. Cool breeze enters the room. I should save on electricity and start using the fan. It's July. I'm alone.

And until that someone comes to me, I shall remain in the emptiness of my multitudes for awhile.

She is not my salvation. She is not the half-meant chorus of a song. She is one of them sparks.

Alas, the PC buzzes. Must be something from the Messenger. I wake to move on to tomorrow in all her uncertainty, in all her...(gasps)

We want moments of consistency. We long to be well-aware of things around us. We want to see the details and see how they work in our favor.

God be your favor. And through Him, you will never want, never be empty, never seek for things and persons you know are beyond your reach. NOt because you can't get to their level, but because your realm is simply in conjuncture with another's.

(Camera pans, moves out)