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Born For Me and You: A Birthday Message
Twenty-three years ago, you were born, and I didn’t know or care about it. Of course I was three back then; I didn’t give a rat’s ass about who hopefully my soulmate will be. Many years later, after passing the age of sixteen, I still didn’t care about your birth, for I was too busy finding my soulmate in other girls, and despairing every time I lost the chance with each one. Little did I know that my running around in the fields of love was but a prelude and preparation to what I pray would be eternity. And it all probably began when you were born.
The idea of being born for someone is poetic, to the point of cheesiness. But even though pop songs and novels have reduced this romantic and spiritual phenomenon into mere cornballs, to me it’s still as true, powerful, and wonderful as ever. God’s fingers, weaving the threads of love as early as the womb, and binding the fate of two souls together – what a beautiful thought. But what is more beautiful is that God leaves it to the lovers to write their own tale, and my girl is a Pulitzer Prize winner at it.
Fate couldn’t pair me up with a better lady, for who I got is a beautiful face and soul and brilliant mind who leads a simple yet inspired life. She finds and cherishes the good things; she even makes a lot of them herself. And when struggles come along, she goes through them gracefully, as though she sings along with the tune no matter how sad it may be. Whims, she has a few, but they are not the center of her life. Dreams, on the other hand, she got them big and by the loads, all of which are noble. And last and definitely the most important of all, she got love, so much of it, and she shows it in ways only she can, for God, for her family and friends, and for me.
I am thankful for being a part of that love. And even if that ceases I will still continue to be thankful, for at least there was a point in time when I was a part of that love. But hopefully, with prayer, hard work, effort, and of course, love, that is not going to happen. I pray that I will always be part of that love, that the day when we will tie the knot and confirm that we truly are born for each other will come, and that not so far from today, we will celebrate not just our birthdays and monthsaries and anniversaries, but our marriage – and our love for each other and our future family – every day.
But despite all this talk about destiny and love, today is, first and foremost, your day. It’s the day you become a year older, a year wiser. It’s the day you look back at the tumultuous yet wondrous years behind you, and look forward to and set goals for the upcoming ones. It’s the day you reflect on the joys and pains that come with being part of the world – both the real one and of those who you love. And last but not least, it’s the day you celebrate not just what we have become as a couple, but more importantly, who you are as your own person; not just as my woman, but as a woman, your own woman. It’s the day you celebrate who you are now, and contemplate on what you want to do and what kind of person you want to be.
It’s your special day, you special honey you. I love you so much.
Happy Birthday and a Happy 10th Monthsary to us, Tsundere-hime. More birthdays for the one and only you, and more monthsaries and anniversaries for the one and only us.
Ordinary Everyday Special Forever Love
Young love is dumb love, but it sure is prolific when it comes to writing. To a hopelessly hopeful romantic wordsmith, anything that has something to do with their “love”, no matter how tangential, insignificant, or fleeting, is a wellspring of inspiration. I was once that guy, spinning what are perhaps the most uneventful or even awful scenarios into Precious Hearts Romance scenes. A sandy, underdeveloped outreach town, a public hospital rife with childbirth pain screams and discharges – these places are/were more romantic than Paris or Venice. Don’t fight me in this; you’ll lose in the same way a thought-provoking indie film would be bested by a JaDine movie in earnings.
But now, looking back at the nine months of being together with who will be hopefully my forever (yes, I purposely used that; this post is meant to be full of jeje cheese), it seems as if I have written almost every little thing they had to do with me. With my girl, however, it seems as if I am not as compelled to. It’s not that I love her less; I love her more than all of them combined. If that’s the case, then to what – or whom – should I attribute the dwindling of love-related posts, especially those about her? I don’t want to peg it to my writing job that redirects my brain juice from romance to gaming-related corporate slavery. Instead, I suspect that it’s because I’m living and breathing the dream, and every breath needs not be chronicled.
It’s a noble thought to be the literary counterpart of the lovestruck millennial who documents even the minutest detail of their love-lives, but somehow…putting them on a digital “paper” would be too much. Because when you’re in a relationship, the amazing and ordinary become one. Nothing amazing about us being content in living small and being as happy in a MiniStop as we would be in Microtel a five-star hotel buffet; nothing amazing about her waiting an extra hour for me after work just so we can meet; nothing amazing about us still constantly texting and chatting each other even though we’re three months shy of celebrating our anniversary; nothing amazing about us talking about books, movies, anime, and video games, especially Pokemon, all the time; and nothing amazing about the infantile baby talk and pet names we already to have and continue to come up with in our texts, although they are amazingly embarrassing and cringe-worthy and therefore private. Nothing amazing about me finding a beautiful, intelligent, kind, colorful, and strong girl who’d love me for and despite my absurdity, nonconformity, and roughness.
Everything that’s sarcastically not amazing has become too many and too much of a part of everyday life already to even write about. That, however, doesn’t mean I’ll no longer write about the mundane. After all, they make up a grandiosity that is life and love. Our convenience store and Fastfood restaurant dates after work, our occasional and cherished meals on Japanese restaurants on BF Homes, our super-chill hangout sessions on each other’s house that I wouldn’t trade for anywhere else, our playtime with our dogs, our gaming sessions, our long walks that never get old despite being on the same roads, and many other simple things that elude me as I wrote this. All of these little things are, when they were lived in the now then that has become the past today, were big. And now, with all of them together, they are colossal. We are colossal, and will continue to grow even more so.
Not everything of everything – not even of the greatest of loves – can be written. That’s alright though, because writing, no matter how significant a part of my life it may be, is still not everything. You are. Besides, all that has transpired has already been written in the stars. Not of those in the heavens, but those in our hearts, with our love chronicling our past, scripting our present, and mapping our future. Our love, more immortal than the words online, paper, or even stone, second only to God’s divine scrolls. And it’s because of the ordinary and little things.
I love you so much honey. Belated happy 9th. May we make more good things happen, and vice versa, whatever their size and significance may be.
Pokemon GO-tta Have Heart: Here’s Y
“Because the friendship that you gave has taught me to brave, no matter where I go I’ll never find a better prize”
-Human League, Electric Dreams
Pokémon GO, the worldwide phenomenon that restored the former hype of the still-popular franchise it’s based on, is built on an amazing and interesting concept – augmented reality; bringing Pokémon in the real life, a bit of an oxymoron that works. Still, despite the innovation Pokémon GO has brought to the franchise and in gaming as an industry, hardcore fans of the Pokemon main games shit on the game, especially those who’ve tried it. Some because they blindly don’t like the game itself, some because of anti-mainstream (yet ironically) elitism-driven hatred, and some because the people who are now joining the bandwagon were mocking them a few months before the app’s release. But aside from those three, there is another reason why this unique Pokémon game got its fair share of detractors, and a lot of them are probably even among the 15 million former users of the app. And what would that be? The seeming soullessness of the game.
Gimmick-wise, Pokémon GO lets you do what no other Pokémon game has ever done before: “see” and catch Pokémon in the real world; encourage you to do a bit (or a lot) of going outside your house to catch more and rarer Pokémon; join a team, capture gyms for your team’s glory, and give people from other teams who dare take your gym from you a righteous beatdown – until you lose and get your gym taken over by another trainer. The problem, however, is that these features that make Pokémon GO unique have rendered the eponymous creatures that serve as the franchise’s core as mere inanimate tools that players just collect and pit against each other.
Well, technically, Pokémon were never alive in the first place. But in Pokémon lovers’ hearts and minds, they live. And like all living things, they grow – they level up and evolve. This is still just as true in Pokémon GO, as players can make their Pokémon stronger by feeding them candies. But just because they can doesn’t mean they will, as they hardly have any incentive to make their Pokémon more powerful, thanks to the system being designed, on purpose or otherwise, to make trainers opt to catch stronger Pokémon rather than raise the combat points of the Pokémon they have already caught – especially the starters, as trainers in the core games rely on them the most.
Because of this, the game fails to bring into the game one of the most important themes in the franchise: unlocking the full potential of Pokémon through hard work and training. In addition, it makes it seem as if Pokémon are replaceable things, and that the deciding factor to leave – or at least ignore – some Pokémon over others is because of power. Then again, the same thing can happen in the core games, but at least they don’t lock you with switching with a more powerful Pokémon as the only option, unlike in GO. A Pokémon game that doesn’t encourage sticking with them and helping them grow isn’t much of a Pokémon game, or at least one that is devoid of love. I mean, think about it; Pokémon are supposed to be hyper-powered pets, and to ditch one over another all because of greater power is cold, to say the least.
I’ve been a fan of the Pokémon anime since I was ten, and have been playing the core games – all gens according to franchise history, gens 3 to 6 according to game release – since I was seventeen. The seven-year gap was due to us being broke as a kid, as I only had access to a PC and therefore an emulator later on, and only had a secondhand 3DS as an adult. And each and every one of those games have been a journey and experience. Both me and my Pokémon struggled, trained, fought, evolved, explored the world and its mysteries, and had our strengths and friendships grow. The games have NPCs that tell you how your Pokémon feel about you, so I know this much is true, and moreso in Pokémon X/Y. And mine, specifically, is Pokemon Y.
If Pokémon GO is the ticket of the dead versions of the namesake creatures into the real world, Pokémon X/Y, on the other hand, is a ticket to the Pokémon world, which, for the first time, is finally in vibrant 3D, has vibrant 3D Pokémon and Pokémon battles, and much-improved Pokémon movement and attack animations and effects. And most importantly, in relation to this current discussion about Pokémon-trainer bonding in the games, X/Y is a massive improvement over the previous gens, as the game has a Poke-Amie feature where you can play and feed your Pokémon like they’re Tamagotchi, and Pokémon are no longer too shy to make their affections towards their trainers felt. You can see them react joyfully after they play a game or get fed with a Poke-puff, and you can see how much they like you through the five-tier heart gauge in Poke-Amie.
And the best part? It manifests in battle. If your Pokémon’s heart gauge is a full five hearts, it can dodge attacks, land critical hits (or at least wish that it did), and even sometimes survive supposedly fatal blows, all because it loves you. Never has the power of love and friendship been translated into any core Pokémon game before, and it has been done so near-perfectly and awesomely to the point that it’s game-changing. Rightfully so; this is, after all, love, an extraordinary phenomenon that unlocks impossibilities. Simply put, it lets people and Pokémon pull of amazing feats, even miracles – that is the highest expression of the bond between Pokémon and trainer. DatBoiKage (Greninja), Sylveon, and Charot (Charizard), as well as the many other Pokemon I’ve trained over the course of 85 hours can do all those things because they love me, and they do so because I loved them first, love them now, and will love them forever, even if I lose my 3DS and game cartridge. I have to admit though, these three are my favorites; yes that’s favoritism, but hey, it’s still worse than GO players’ way of treating Pokemon. Anyway, the point is that anyone can throw a Pokeball and make the captured Pokémon fight for them, but not everyone –and not every game, even if it’s Pokémon – has the heart to help a Pokémon come into his or her fullness, both in its capabilities to fight and to love. Yes, I’m looking at you, Pokémon GO.
Nevertheless, I have to give credit to where it’s due: Pokémon GO is an amazing and important advancement of augmented reality, smartphone gaming or even gaming in general, and the Pokemon franchise. But without the heart that has been pumping in the core games, or with how the game is set up, then it’s never going to be Pokemon enough. So even though I don’t play the game, and despite my straight-up comparing of X/Y with it and portraying the former as superior, I don’t hate it or its players want it to be that; I want it to be able to truly carry the name. After all, it’s the most played Pokemon game…ever. And because of its achievement and reach, I want it to succeed and have a heart, so that everyone can not only find Pokemon in the real world, but also and more importantly, learn love from them.
For it is love, not candies, that is the true source of strength of both people and Pokemon.
Writers: The Lover And The Beloved
“You’ve always written because you wanted to. If you don’t want to any more, why should you? Do you think your not writing is going to cause a village to burn to the ground? A ship to sink? The tides to get messed up? Or set the revolution back five years? Hardly. I don’t think anybody’s going to label that defection.”
-Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart
One who does not read cannot be a writer, or at least be a good one. So of course, I read, a lot. But when it comes to writing about Bernadette, reading can only teach me techniques; only my heart can tell me what things about her should be put into writing. Last week, however, I received a source material from my muse, one that she herself wrote. It’s a rather welcome change, a temporary reversal of role – I, the writer, had become a reader, and she, the reader, had become a writer. It also made me realize that my writing has become just as much for her as it is for me.
Writing, the kind that stems from the heart, is mostly a solitary, self-indulgent, and self-serving passion. No matter how good wordsmiths spin their motive for doing what they eponymously engage in all they want, that truth is inescapable. But despite the fact that the main reason behind the inception of most of these soul-driven pieces of work is self-satisfaction, there are some among them that are meant to be read as much as they are meant to be written, and they are more than meant to be about and for someone else than they are about and for the self. Such is the case with pieces centered on love.
A love letter – I just received one from my beloved. Rather, it’s more of an open letter, a blog post, if you must. It’s not the first writing I got from her, as she had given me two cards before, but I never received something as long and as telling of her soul as this one. And up to now, even though it has been a week old, I am still moved by its content, the crafting of it as an art, and the very gesture of putting words together not only to convey a message to me, but also and more importantly, to make me feel her love for me in a manner that she hasn’t done so before. I have already responded to what the letter is saying, but have yet to the act of her writing itself. And that is what I must do so.
Reading is the first and most important approach to a literary work; the next would be to understand the context: the setting the author was in when they wrote it, the life experiences they are going through, and the reason why they wrote it in the first place. I know all of them all too well. She wrote it at work, sneaking a few hours to make something personal – something I’d do; she’s in a rather interesting time in her life, as we’ve found love in each other, and at the same time wondering what she could do within herself to play her role in this theater of romance (the answer is nothing; I love her because and in spite of who she is); and she wrote it for me, for her love. Oh a girl, the one that I love, writing for, about, and to me – how dreamlike, manga-like.
Aya Toujo-like in many aspects – beautiful; kind; intelligent; esteemed in the arts, especially literature and film; and always so loving, understanding, and supportive of me. I, however, never thought that she’d share this one facet as that of the paragon of all romance-harem heroines: being a writer. Once again, that is. I remember her telling me that she had given up on the craft, saying that it’s not for her, even though she is just as capable a wordsmith as I am in my eyes – not as her lover, but as a writer, a critic. She has eloquent word choice and accurate usage; she’s able to get her thoughts and emotions across in the most beautiful way possible. And if she can craft such a wonderful and genuine piece that would move not only me but also others that would read it, then I say that she’s prematurely hanging up her dream.
That, however, is but a suggestion. It’s not my dream, but hers. She is the one carrying this brainchild of an ambition in the womb that is her heart, so hers is the ultimate prerogative to abort or give birth it. And whatever her choice may be, I will fully be behind her. But I, her partner and one of her potential inspirations, should she choose to dream again, would like to immerse myself into whatever life her words would bring. I can picture it – me, frolicking in beaches, jungles, deserts, cities, temples, planets, cosmic places; rubbing elbows with creatures of whatever kind in her creations; or me, being one of the many stars in in the universe of her thoughts and feelings – how enamoring, how…self-centered of me.
Berna once told me that it doesn’t matter to a piece from me is about, for, and to her or not; what does is that it’s from me. And that’s what I feel towards her writing too. No matter how impersonal and even though I’m no part of it, any work of hers is a gem, and any piece from her has a piece of her soul infused to it, so each and every one of them is worth the read.
So honey, like I previously said, whatever you choose to do with the dream is up to you, but I’d be happy if you pick it back up. And if you choose to write – to dream – once again but don’t know how or where, don’t know how or where, then think of your passion as a book that you haven’t read for quite some time now and have forgotten where you stopped. Well, just start anew again, so the parts you’ve already covered will have a brand new meaning, and eventually you’ll be on your way again. And when it comes to writing, it doesn’t have to be a short story or a poem; a letter or an essay about anything you want more than enough. In addition, don’t think about what others would say. Yes, getting read by others is important, but more important is that you quench your need to express what’s within you through words. Besides, you already have an audience, me, and I say to you, not as a lover but as a critic and fellow writer, that your writing is superb, and I wish I have more of it in my life.
I’ve always imagined what it would be like to have a writer girlfriend like Aya Toujo. We’d exchange writing, read them together, understand each other better, and engage in activities that would further enrich our love for one another and make great sources of inspiration. Well, now I have seen a glimpse of what a life like that would be. I’d say it’s amazing, because my two loves – my woman and my mistress, writing, both hers and mine – share almost the same space in my life.
But even if my mistress fades, I’ll still love my woman. I love her not because she writes, but because of love itself, and I write because it is a part of me, because of the things that are worth writing, and because of the things I love – and one of them is my woman.
I love you, Berna.
Bernadette, Your Bridge and Storm Responds…
Dear Tsundere-hime,
Truth be told, I don’t know how to respond. Until now I’m still overwhelmed with happiness and love over what I’ve read from you, even though you’ve already told me before many of the things you’ve written here. But like I said, every repetition of our declaration of our love for each other takes on a new meaning, and what you have written is one of the most meaningful and significant repetitions ever. And just like a work of literary art, it becomes more beautiful when dissected.
The things you told me I represent? You represent those things too. You represent those things coming to life and more. You manage to make me feel the supposed novelty of fiction take an actual physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual shape and form. And at the same time you remind me that our love is still anchored to reality, therefore there are struggles and limitations, yet they feel so organic, that despite their weight, they are very much worth bearing, that I would rather go through them than live another fiction-like life with another woman.
As for your fear, well, I felt that fear too, yet it was short-lived, for I realized that I should not dread the near-perfection of our connection. There is also another kind of fear I feel with you: the fear of you ceasing to love me because of my flaws – both discovered and otherwise – or because I have fucked shit up to the point of beyond repair. There is also the fear of us falling apart because of some machination of destiny. So I fight those fears, every day, the same way you confirmed and confronted yours, in order for us to be together forever, by loving you earnestly, and by being the best that I can be every time. And even though I fall short with the latter so many times, I want you to know that I earnestly try. I will never give up, because with you I never felt the fear of uncertainty that kept me from being serious with the girls I’ve met in the past, be it those who liked me and those who I thought I like. So you no longer have to hope that I feel the same way too, as I will already confirm that hope: this is it for us, honey.
Up to now, I am still bewildered by all those questions you have. About yourself. About me. About us. About our love. These wonderings of yours are a glimpse of the world that is your soul, whose ocean of thoughts is deep and always ebbing and flowing. I do not know what to do or say about it, because what you think and feel and how you do things aren’t problematic. Rather, they’re reflections of you, and for me to even think that I should change you or “solve” those non-problems would be so pompous and pseudo-messianic of me; all I can do is to love all those parts of you, be with you every step of the way, and help you clear your doubts on love. So please, honey, always be honest and open with me, because I’ll never leave all you and all the truths – good or bad – that make you who you are.
Like I said, you’re who you are, so you’re not a liar and a coward; it’s just that to you, solitude is strength. And I agree; there is a great sense of pride and achievement for pulling yourself up. Relying on oneself, however, is not the only strength there is; there too is the strength we draw from others, the strength they lend us. That is why I’m here, and that’s why we’re together – to draw and lend each other’s strengths. Of course, I respect your need to draw strength from within, but I want you to keep in mind that I’m always here to help you. I’ll give you your much-needed aloneness at times, many times even, but not all time, and not during the times when our relationship lies in the balance.
Last but definitely not least, thank you, that I am able to make you feel a great and range of feelings, that my coming into your life like a sudden rain poured new and more vivid colors into it like a rainbow. Well, the same thing happened when you came into mine. You too were a rainbow. We both are. And this double arch of hues shall, like a monumental arch, shall stand the test of time. For it is – we are – more than stones put together; we are souls intertwined. And I love you, so much.
Bridge and Storm
Written by my girlfriend, Berna:
The very first time we talked, I felt that you represent everything I should have forgotten a long time ago. Books. Anime. Manga. Movies. Daydreaming. Dreaming.
And as we got closer to each other, my initial fear was confirmed. I should have stopped right then, but you opened up to me and I to you in a way that no one ever did before. I should have stopped but it’s too late.
It seems serendipitous, polar opposites meeting and being united by something so strong yet unexplainable and indefinable. It should be lovey-dovey from thereon but a time came wherein I ask myself how and why.
How to make this last? Because unlike what I’ve been through in the past, this is real. This is not some teenage dream that’ll eventually fade through time and trials. This is it for me and I hope for you.
Why now? Because I’m still moving on from the trials I’ve been through in the past. Not just from a petty boy but in life, since I’ve been bombarded by trials ever since. And when we met, I was still tending to my wounds and searching for directions in my life.
How to explain that I need time for myself? Because it’s been the way for me ever since. I don’t talk about problems, I brood over them. I think about them. I don’t want to talk; I just want to be left alone. I don’t need advice from other people; I just need time to figure things out, alone, by myself, on my own.
Why am I doing this to you? Because I don’t trust myself to make relationships last. I can’t even find a friend that is not suffering from depression or other mental health issues. All my friends are mental and I’m not trying to be funny; it’s a fact. All my life people leave, and some say that it’s not my fault, but it’s hard to convince yourself otherwise. It’s hard to say I’m not to blame when one day you’re laughing over silly things then the next they’re not talking to you for months.
Because I’m a coward and a liar. I tell myself I don’t need other people but you showed me how easy life could be if you have someone you can completely be honest with. You showed me that though problems can’t be solved immediately, having someone beside you makes them less hard to bear. You showed me that letting some people you care about know your struggles does not make you a weak person. You showed me that by letting others in, those peoplewho truly care for you, make it easy to conquer challenges and setbacks.
You are my bridge.
When I met you, life was so peaceful and serene. I want to stay and forget the noise of the outside. With you I am at my most peaceful and most vulnerable. You are my favorite place in the world.
You are my comfort yet at the same time you were my storm.
Before you, everything is just pitter-patter. Sometimes I get soaked but most of the time I managed to stay dry and wait for the sun to light my way. Wait for the light because I know it will come, it’s the same every time — it rains for a while, soft drizzle, and I wait just a little; sometimes the rain gets to me but not for long. Before you, everything was just a drizzle that I’ve foolishly mistaken for a storm.
Now that I’m with you, I get to know what it feels like to be comforted and swept away at the same time. Now I know how it is to know peace and when you get out, when I get out from the bridge that you are, everything is extremely close and incredibly loud. You amplified the rain, because of you, because of the force that you are, everything happen sall at once. It made me disoriented at firstmade me scared that I wouldn’t get through it,but you were beside me. And with you I feel like we can do everything if we are together.
I still have a lot to say and these jumbled thoughts are far from what I had in mind, but I believe this messed-up letter to you perfectly conveys the turmoil that you brought in my life.
Nth Time: Apologies and Fucking Up
Yes, I made this during work. You’re more important than a quasi-dream job. Besides, I only have one article to write today. Oh if only we didn’t have a “mini” fallout, you’d know that. If only we didn’t have a “mini” fallout, we’d be laughing, talking about nothing and everything, and sharing random links and posts on FB.
Tsundere-hime,
I’m sorry. God, I’ve repeated those two words so often that I already look like a pathetic bastard, and that the word is about to lose its meaning. Truth be told, I had no idea that what I did last night would set you off. It was just a joke, a “meme”; but apparently, it no longer was to you, as you had it with me. You and your patience were exhausted, and I was an insensitive bastard who thought I was doing you a favor by trying to make you laugh. But it wasn’t even remotely funny; it was just plain annoying. I was just plain annoying. And for that, I once again say the two most overused and abused words in my relationship with you: I’m sorry.
As the White Stripes song goes, I just don’t know with myself. I’m random, impulsive, illogical, nonsensical, stubborn, a bit callous, confused, clumsy, and unwary; therefore, I’m difficult. I find me difficult too. In fact, I find myself so difficult that I’m wondering how you were able to put up with me for the past six months. And for every time I fuck shit up, I just wish that I have the strength to break up with you so you can find another guy who will take much better care of you and deal with you so smoothly that you’ll feel like you’re in a Nicholas Sparks novel. Except I can’t because I’m selfish. I can’t because I’m having what is perhaps the best time of my life since…ever, and I want this golden age to never end. This renaissance, however, entails you being chained to me. I’m not making those shackles any easier to bear, and though I was able to make you happy and laugh many times in past, I don’t think those things can’t make up for every fuck-up I make. And it hurts so much worse because I’m the one causing you pain. For that I hate myself. I swear to God, I want to make a copy of myself so I can beat the ever-loving crap out of him.
I’m always acting in ways that I think would benefit you but actually don’t, and I’m always casting aside practicality, conformity, and normalcy for sentimentality, symbolism, and antics. There’s something wrong with me, and out of that wrongness comes my unwilling and accidental yet repetitive wronging of you and falling short in so many aspects. I swear I’ll do and be better next time. I swear I’ll be more perceptive, more sensitive.
For the nth time and definitely not the last time, I’m sorry honey. Please, let’s talk it out later. There will be many other Community of Young Professionals meetings, but only one chance to fix this before it becomes a monster that gets swept under the rug, only for it to rear its ugly head and devour everything we’ve built. I love you honey, so much.
The Hopefully Eternal Catching of Mesprit, Love, and Life
“And if you hurt me, well that’s okay baby only words bleed. Here in these pages you just hold me. I won’t ever let you go.”
-Ed Sheeran, Photograph
Legendary Pokemon are a lot more difficult to catch than their non-legendary counterparts. It’s either because they simply have a low Pokeball catch rate, or they have gimmicks. It’s either their location is hard to access, or worse – they have no dungeon at all. Some of them can only be chanced upon in completely random circumstances, while others, despite having an official location, leave it, and make them chase you all over the region. Truth be told, it’s one of the annoying types, as they’re tiresome to capture. Mesprit, however, made me realize that the chase actually makes the pursuit worth the capture.
In the Sinnoh region, which is my favorite region because it’s the Pokemon World’s birthplace, there are the three lake guardians – Uxie, Azelf, and Mesprit. When the world was created by Arceus, the three of them came into being and brought forth three metaphysical facets of the souls of humans and Pokemon; Uxie gave knowledge, Azelf gave willpower, and Mesprit, emotion. Of course, my favorite is Mesprit, because without fear, doubt, shame, guilt, anger, sadness, joy, and ultimately, love, then humans and Pokemon would merely be sentient yet cold beings who would not value the existences and experiences of their own as well as others. Yes, my favorite is Mesprit, even though she it’s the only one of the three who made me chase her it around Sinnoh. Because after going to Lake Verity cave to see and capture Mesprit, she it flew off to some random part of the map.
According to Professor Rowan, Mesprit wants to play with me. Not to be a self-proclaimed douche of a Pokemon expert, Professor, but your old ass has been sitting in the lab since Arceus created the damn world, so I have more firsthand Pokemon knowledge and experience. And you know what I think? Mesprit is conflicted.
Maybe she it doesn’t want to be captured because she it feels that even though being with a trainer would make her it happy, it would be wrong her it, a highly esteemed legendary Pokemon, to need a trainer. But oh, little does not-so-little Mesprit know that being with a Pokemon trainer is not a sign of weakness, but of strength, for without her it this trainer would be nothing. Sure, I got Torterra, Vaporeon, Staraptor, or even Giratina, but it’s just not the same without the life Mesprit evokes in my heart. Likewise, the trainer brings out the best in Pokemon. While there is no doubt that Pokemon and human beings can live strong and separate lives, but together they get to unlock their ultimate potential. On a separate but related note, it takes a considerable strength to handle a Pokemon like Mesprit, as well as the tenacity to go after her it.
Or maybe Mesprit is concerned about me. She It knows that wielding a Legendary brings pressure, both from the Pokemon itself and other trainers. But oh Mesprit, I’ve always known that a trainer’s life, especially capturing and sharing a life with a legendary Pokemon, will never be easy. I could’ve chosen to capture Azelf and Uxie – much easier targets – but you know me, Mesprit, always one for the challenge. But don’t think I’m doing this for the challenge alone; I’m doing this because I want what you represent and have given the world: emotion, and ultimately, life.
Then again, perhaps Mesprit only meant to run away once because of the weight of her its heart, but then she it felt guilty for having done so and have become embarrassed, making herself itself think that she it has no other choice but to continue getting away from me. But oh Mesprit, you need not feel the burden of your initial action, thus Ed Sheeran’s quote above. Besides, of all Pokemon, you, granter of emotions, should know that love this great and lasting is much greater than temporal pain.
Well, whatever the reason for her its seemingly ceaseless flight, I just have to go after her it, so I did. Every time I fly next to her it, she it would fly to a faraway in a completely different direction. It took me a while to understand that, but once I did, it was all downhill uphill from there, as I had to run, bike, surf, many miles just to get to where she it is. And every time we met, I am only given one turn before she it would spirit away to somewhere else, but still I persevered. It took me a total of around two hours to whittle her its HP down to red, go back and forth across Sinnoh, and throw Pokeballs at her it, until I finally caught her it in a rainy Route 210; how dramatic. Truth be told, I could’ve just used a Master Ball, but that would be a cop-out. I want her it to come with me not because her it has to – no 100% catch-rate shortcuts – but because her it wants to, and the Ultra Ball, the sign of my best and most hopeful convincement of it, the proof of my dedication, did the job.
It’s not an easy feat, and while I could’ve done something much easier, but you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way. Because everything I went through made it my most memorable Pokemon capture and run ever. I’m not even kidding. So Mesprit, please, stay with me, forever. Let’s have a lifetime full of life and love. There will be many hard times, many currents to be crossed, grasslands to be treaded on, mountains to climb, and wild Pokemon to defend each other from, but all those things are only going to make our bond stronger. I love you, so much.
A Post For Our 5th Monthsary
Dear Tsundere-hime,
Happy 5th monthsary to us! I love you so much! I don’t mean to be presumptuous, and I don’t mean to take this milestone for granted either, but I’ve always known that it wouldn’t be hard for us to get to where we are and who we are as a couple now. What has become harder, however, is finding something to tell you. By the time I wrote this, I have already scrapped four open letters for you (and heavily edited this one), as most of them were too melodramatic and self-deprecating that it’s pathetic, not to mention unnecessary (yes, they had something to do with last Friday, which I believe has already been resolved). So instead of another pseudo-artparasites crap, I’ll thank you instead for so many things.
Thank you honey, for everything. Up to now, there are still times when I still find it hard to believe that you, a beautiful, sweet, and intelligent girl, fell in love genuinely with a guy like me. Yes, it’s been almost a year now, and yet there is still that sense of amazement in me, not to mention the fact that I’m just as clingy as I was before. Yeah, you told me that after three months, the honeymoon phase is going to end, but it doesn’t seem like it, because we’re two months past the whole three months BS and we’re still as lovey-dovey as before. I hope, pray, and will work hard to keep it this way, because I love how it feels, and I love you, so much.
Thank you for putting up with my shortcomings and insanity. I believe I’ve already told you this many times before, but I’ve always wanted a girl who understands me and would be patient with me. Amazingly and crazily enough, there is one, and she loves me just as much as I love her. Truth be told, I’m still scared that one day you might wake up and realize that I’m not worth putting up with, but I fight those pointless, baseless thoughts every day, and your love helps me do that. That is why every day I do my best to become self-assured in your love, as well as improve myself so you’ll no longer have to endure me that much. I guess there’ll always be the part where you’ll have to bear with me because I have a few loose screws and failing faculties (especially memory on practical things), but I’ll do my best so you’ll no longer have to as much as before.
Last but not least, thank you for making so many beautiful memories with me. We haven’t really left the nearby south much, but I’m already more than content with those things. And if that’s already the case, imagine how much an out-of-town trip, like what we did in Tagaytay, or at least a date in an out-of-the-ordinary place, would make me happy. Well, Tags was already one for the books, and I can’t wait for more of trips like that. But like I said, even if we sit on the corner and eat crappy food, it’s more than enough, because I’m with you.
So, that’s pretty much it. I still have so many other things to say, but I’m sure they can wait. What’s important is that this open letter would hopefully set your mood for the day, or even days to come.
I love you so much Tsundere-hime, so please stay with me, hopefully forever.
My Eternal Summer: Forget For A Moment And Remember Forever
In the scientifically correct sense of things, it is the meteorologists who determine when summer begins. And according to our state meteorologists, it has been summer for almost a month now, maybe a few weeks more. But in my self-centered universe, summer has just begun. Its arrival is rather late as compared to the past years, but it’s never tardy, for it is my heart, not the climate, no matter how hot it gets, determines its advent. And yes, summer – no, Summer – is indeed here. She has finally come. I thought she won’t, and I don’t mind if she didn’t, but I’m glad she did.
For the past few weeks after summer’s official start, it didn’t feel like it despite the killer heat that has reached 42 degrees centigrade. I didn’t feel like going to what is summer’s greatest symbol and official mecca: the beach. There was no desire for pristine, soft, and fine white sands; for azure and crystal seas; for towering palms whose leaves sway with the cool summer breeze; and lastly and definitely, for beautiful and sexy summer girls, especially chinitas in two-piece swimwear. Maybe it’s because I have Berna now, the best girl I could ever be with and the best girlfriend I could have, so the sea of feminine eye candy, while still sweet on the sights, is no longer as succulent as before. And maybe it’s because I’ve been employed for only a month, so I’m not jaded enough yet to want coconut trees and coastlines in lieu of the palm streets and skyscrapers that line Ortigas.
Case and point: for the first time in my life, I wasn’t looking for Summer, and it mystified me. I wanted to want Summer, but the same bliss and longing she once evoked wasn’t kicking, and I feared that it’s because I’m growing old. Those hot feelings I used to hold for the season has been extinguished by age and worldlier, more “mature”, “serious” concerns – normie bull. That was until Summer came running to me, looking for me, like a woman wondering where her ever-devoted lover spirited off to, and why. Now she has found me, locked away in a world of work, words, smartphone and office glass, and games, so she, through the help of my friends and my girlfriend, has finally dragged me by the hand and started running, so I ran along with her, and what I thought were bygone emotions from a bygone era came rushing back like a wave.
Yesterday I was in Bakasyunan Resort in Tanay, Rizal. It’s a mountainside resort with a mediocre pool facing a mountain with windmills at the top. It was okay, good at best. And thankfully, something better will be coming along: Laiya, Batangas in May 7. Yes, the quintessential beach trip for some much-needed Vitamin Sea. And while the beach will forever remain as a slice of sandy, salty, and sunny paradise, it has been, thankfully, stripped of what I realized is a fun but nonessential element.
Girls. To me, summer is flirtation, the search for love, or at least the beholding and experiencing of womanly beauty, especially by the sea. And this year, things have changed, as I have already found a love. While there is still the novelty of the idea of checking out and getting to know girls on the beach, it has become rather insipid and infantile compared to what I have now. I’m not renouncing the fantasy that I thought was the greatest part of summer just to tell my beloved what I think she wants to read; she’s not the jealous type anyway. Rather, I’m saying this because it’s true: summer playing is nothing compared to summer loving. Oh my dream come true, to sit by the beach with the girl you love the most, with an Aya Toujo, full of loveliness, goodness, beauty, and emotional and intellectual understanding, looking at the world’s oldest waters, the most accurate physical embodiment of depth, mystery, and eternity, talking not only about love and our past, present, and future time together on Earth, but also of the higher things in life, that of and beyond the sociopolitical sphere, the human condition, philosophy, the heart and soul, nature – I don’t know; the ocean of our conversation is just too vast, and there is no other place that is more appropriate to be the birth of those discussions than the very amniotic fluid of all existence.
But love and summer is not just purely discourse, but a series of seemingly unrelated acts that are actually anachronistic steps of a sun-blessed process. And by that I mean the things we’d do other things than talk: swim, frolic by the sand, sleep, and other obvious things couples do when they’re in the waters from where all life sprang forth. That life evolved and gave rise to the only spiritually beings able to love – us, and it is in that love that affirms the Creator, the author of life, whose reason for the birthing of flora, fauna, and us are a much higher form of the same sentiment Berna and I have for each other.
Or maybe that was a bit too transcendental or existential. For is not love for both woman and nature reason enough? To spend time with her beautiful outer shell and innermost soul at the beauty of God and Mother Nature’s architecture and feel the love and happiness of it all, that is all that matters; anything else is an excess. Like I said, I already have what I’ve always wanted; and to spend time with her at the beach would be to parallel the same manga scenes I’ve always envied.
There is, however, more to the beach than all of those metaphysical objects and female soul(s). To find this essential element, the hallowed place where earth, sea, and sky meet must stripped down of those excesses: the long, fun, and cathartic road trips to it, its correlation to God and the entirety of existence, the girls, or even the girl, and then you will find it: the beach itself and everything it stands for. The usual calmness, beauty, and depth of the ocean is always a relaxant and an inspiration; and its rare instances of violence are testaments of its power. Underneath its sea-green glass mass is a submerged forest whose water skies are filled with colorful scaly birds, or a desert with grotesque living spiked orbs and wayward soft-bodied beings. The way its waves never tires in crashing onto the powdery sand are reflections of the recurring plain but enthralling things in our day-to-day lives. We try to see if the answers to our questions, problems, and wonderings about the future are beyond its horizon. And a day – or hopefully, everyday – at the beach is to taste a simple slice of paradise.
Then again, the beach is a related but a sometimes standalone entity. And summer, while epitomized by sandy seashores, isn’t limited by it. Summer is also about road trips, cool drinks on a hot day and beer by the night-time, road trips, climbing mountains, dates with my girl, blockbusters, and many other things that make life good. That is why summer is eternal, for all these things are with us throughout our lives. And maybe that’s why I forgot about Summer: all her offerings, I get to enjoy the whole year round, unlike back then when I was still in school, jobless, and too stoked for the season. But of course, there is still nothing like enjoying the season during its peak instead of diffusing its essence throughout the course of our lives. After all, a summer in one’s heart means moot if it’s stormy outside. That’s why I’m glad Summer reminded me of her at the right time: her time.
When life rearranges itself, seasons and months can slip out of our immediate recollections. But these things, like people, refuse to be forgotten; they have their ways of returning to us – or maybe it is they who make us go back to them. Well, who found and took back who and how, it doesn’t matter; what does is that even though so many new elements have come – a new job, a girlfriend –into my current sphere, Summer, my seasonal mistress, and I are still together. We’ll always be, as long as there is the sun and a beach. And even if I get married, have children, reach new career heights, and become consumed with work, Summer and I will forever be locked in each other’s arms. And should I lose my grip, like this year, I know she’ll pull me back to her warm embrace. Even though there may be moments when I forget, she’ll always remember.
I put the I in the UNIVERSE. I hope I can put U too. 