Catch A Falling Star

It was told that stars were actually maidens. And that when one sees a shooting star, he must hurry to find it for that star is the same woman you shall love and who shall love you back. Nobody knows where they came from. Some folks believe that maidens are rewards to those young men who are patient and hardworking. Some believes that the gods punish the maidens who have sinned by hanging them in the sky. Some believes that the man and his star shall grow old together. The man shall wither and the star shall turn into stardust. The rest of the village, well, they believe that it was just a story the elders made up to make the boys work harder.

It was different for this particular young man who works for the builders. He simply believes that stars are maidens. He has actually chosen a star from the hundreds he sees each night. He has always been fascinated with that little star at the far side, away from the other brighter stars. He has always wanted that star, ever since he was a little boy. He would view that star from his bedroom window and just watch it shine. He would watch it while waiting for the sandman to come. He would watch it until it was time to say good night. It has always been the same scenario every night, ever since he was a little boy. Ever since his best friend left the village.

One fortunate night he asked the star, "Why will you not fall for me?" He was sitting by a river on top of a mountain. The young man was helping the builders build a bridge across the river and they have been working since morning. They stopped to rest only when the stars started appearing. "You know I have had my eyes fixed upon you. Never did I turn my gaze away from you even as I see a shooting star at the corner of my eye. Years I have waited and I am willing to wait more," he continued.

To his surprise, the star replied. "Please accept my sincerest apologies for I am to remain bound in the heavens until I have learned to forgive and the other to apologize. Only then when I have forgiven and my heart has been purified can I be one of those shooting stars you usually ignore."

"Then why not forgive now? So I could catch you and ask you to marry me."

"Alas, my forgiveness has not been asked for yet. Ask and it shall be given, then seal it with a promise that such a tragedy will never happen again. I can not love with an impure heart, you see. If favorable events happen and I fall, will you catch me?"

"I will even ask you to marry me."

"What then shall I call my lovely fiancé?"

"Gabriel."

"Angelic. Call me Ceres."

"You're celestial."

Years passed and the young man has become a skilled builder. The star has still not fallen but the builder has not lost hope. On top of that same mountain where he and his star first talked, he decided to build a tower. One that is tall enough to reach his star. Every night he sleeps on top of his unfinished tower and resumes his work early in the morning. More years passed and his tower grew taller and taller. The builder thought of speaking to his star one night so he asked, "Who is that person you have to forgive?"

"I honestly do not know who that person is," the star replied, "It happened a very long time ago. All I can remember is that I got so furious, so furious that I even pushed people away."

"Hundreds, or even thousands ask for forgiveness each day. How will you know who the right one is? Will you just magically fall once the word has been spoken?"

"Magically," the star giggled, "Yes, I shall magically fall into your arms and we shall get married."

Even more years passed and still his star has not touched the earth. But this did not stop the builder from continuing to work on his tower. He worked even harder this time; he barely stops to rest. He worked day and night until he fell ill.

"Gabriel!" The star gasped.

"Are you about to fall?" The builder asked.

"I regret to say I am not. But your body is aging! You must rest. You are not as strong as you were years ago."

"Then I would never reach you. True enough I am beginning to feel weak. And truer still, I would never ever, ever reach you. I probably did not work enough. Stars are rewards to those who are patient and hardworking. I feel so weak that it seems impossible for me to even watch the sun rise later." He closed his eyes then continued, "Forgive me, Ceres."

"Gabriel, I'm--"

There was a thump.

"Here," the star whispered.

"So it was me all along?" The builder asked smiling, his eyes still closed.

"I would have to say yes. I fell on your right arm; I guess you caught me."

"I'm sorry I'm too weak to go down on my knees right now and ask you to marry me. Maybe when the sun is up? Then we shall get married in the afternoon. I want to show you the village. The village is friendly. You must meet my mother. She will like you. And my father too. You would also love to see the bridges and the towers I have built. All those helped me acquire the skills I needed to build our tower. Do you like animals? I have a dog at home I call 'Vanilla'. I am certain that you will like her."

The star cried.

"Are you crying?" The builder asked. "I am about to open my eyes. Would you allow your tears to cover your beauty? Let me see how beautiful my bride is."

The star wiped her face and smiled as the builder opened his eyes. He smiled and said, "Lie with me." The fallen star obeyed and rested her head on the builder's chest.

"The sun is about to rise, look," the star pointed to the sun.

"I thought I'd never live to watch the sunrise with you. Do you like our tower? I am not yet finished building it but your presence seems to complete it. I shall finish it later, after we get married. But I have to rest first," he closed his eyes, "Would you be willing to help?"

The star smiled and nodded as she watched her feet and her legs turn into stardust. Soon there were only stardust and the builder on top of the unfinished tower.

Rainy Days and Girlfriends

As you would have guessed, our classes, like yours, were suspended last Friday. And I regret that I didn't make the most out of that Thursday night with friends.

I learned of the suspension around 5:30 AM and I was planning to get ready to go home at that instant since I was also informed that my after-class meeting was postponed. I can't remember why I decided to sleep a little bit more. The next thing I knew I was making oatmeal for lunch. My dad advised me to stay in QC so I won't be traveling while a typhoon is on loose. What happened next was the most unfortunate thing, I didn't have anything to do. I still haven't got hold of the book and the lectures I need to read because they are somewhere out there and I can't brave the storm outside. My roommate happily lent me her copy of "How to be Bad" which I finished on that same day. It was not that good a read but who cares? I'm comfortably reading a book on a cold, rainy day while enjoying a bowl of mushroom soup my housemate and I made. Don't get too excited about the soup - it's one where you pour the contents on water and boil. Yes, instant mushroom soup.

We cooked dinner around 10 PM. I know, that was late and I was extremely hungry. I haven't eaten a decent meal since morning. We rummaged our ex-housemate's goods and yes, we found enough to feed all eight of us. We were seated on the floor, in a circle, and were enjoying that little feast we made. I don't know what we resemble the most, friends on camping, girls on a sleepover, or evacuees having their fill of food ration. One thing is for sure, the cold wind from Falcon was nothing compared to the warmth inside our house.

We made hot chocolate right after dinner which was followed by a series of stories from creepy stalkers to a random guy's weird habits. I fell asleep around 5:00 AM and woke five hours after. My housemates were already up and packing their stuff. I had to do the same. We had lunch at KFC and went home right after, except for me. I decided to wait for my sister so we could go home together. I waited for two hours but no, I didn't get bored. I sang inside those karaoke booths, checked out books on sale, and played that grand piano by the music store which I used to not do alone and it was actually fun. Oh yeah, there's this funny thing. While I was playing Bach's Prelude No. 1, a girl asked me if she could have her photo taken with me. I agreed and tried my best to hide all the awkwardness and smile at the camera her mom was holding. I didn't lose my wallet or my mobile phone so I don't think it was some kind of scam. But still, it was weird.

My sister arrived several minutes later. We dropped by her high school friends who were in McDo and then we finally went home. Finally. FINALLY.

So here I am, trying to revive my blog. Postponing my reports. Delaying my errands. Talking to you.

And thanking my girlfriends for helping me forget hurt, even just for twenty-four hours.

Coming Back Home

Dear Blogspot, I have decided to leave Facebook and Tumblr, well not really leave. I have decided to keep things down. I shall hold my tongue, I mean my fingers, when I'm in either of the said sites. I am to remain quiet. I am to keep drama low.

I haven't caught up with Tumblr since last summer and lately I'm no longer that interested. My Tumblr has been too full of shallow drama and photos I see no beauty in. Maybe it's just because of the people I follow, I've been thinking of unfollowing those people I don't personally know. And lately my Facebook has been too much about work. That lazy Friday night you thought of logging in and seeing "Dinner tomorrow?" or "I miss you!" has become "Meeting on..." or "Please read..." Yes, it's overwhelming but I do not complain, I repeat, I do not complain about my job. I actually enjoy doing my job. But you know that point when you finally decide to refuse to bring your work home because it will swallow the time you should be spending with yourself or with your family or your friends? It's similar to those jobs which you get paid for. I say yes to "Use Facebook as an aid to sending updates, not really post everything."

Finally, I have decided to come back home. To return to Blogspot which has protected me since second year high school. I'm here to stay, dear Blogspot, until...I don't know. Maybe until I change blogs. Every echo of laughter shall be heard here. Every drop of tear shall be wiped here. Every secret shall be kept here. I must admit that I have to write on my notebook back in QC once in a while. I don't have Internet connection there, you see. I hope you would not think that I'm cheating on you with my notebook.

I envy those people who can write their emotions freely, so clear and straightforward. It's as if they don't care that other people might read it. That is why I have returned, dear Blogspot. I wish to write like they do. I wish to write my feelings no matter how informal and incoherent my post would be. Maybe in here, just in here, I can ignore what people will say. This will be my little world where only I am fit of surviving. I will sit on top of it and watch my life play like normal people watch the sun rise and set. I can replay those happy moments when my dad used to carry me on his shoulders or that time when I was kissed in the rain. I can skip those nights I felt like there were monsters under my bed or that night I learned of truths and lies. After all, no one even bothers to visit you, dear old Blogspot.

I'm not closed to guests, just so you know. Travelers are actually very welcome and sharing anecdotes are even more appreciated. Be warned, though. This world I have created is not just butterflies and rainbows. It has storms and serpents and daggers so sharp they can cut through your chest. If, however, you miraculously choose to stay, I must say I am very accommodating. I shall make your bed and provide you with the softest pillows and the warmest blankets. I shall prepare you a hearty breakfast and maybe you can help me make my little world more suitable for living. Maybe we could plant trees and make music.

Anything.

But war.

The Farm

The farm. That's what's keeping my mom and dad busy. I was never that fond of the farm until my dad called me one March evening and showed me his first 'harvest'.

We poured salad dressing on the lettuce leaves and everyone had a taste of Dad's first 'harvest'. I can't remember what happened to the calamansi though.

It was like that every Saturday night. Mom and Dad would come home from the farm bringing vegetables and fruits. Soon their harvests were more than enough so we had to share it with my grandma and my aunt. We're not yet selling our vegetables.

During the Holy Week, Dad took us to the farm so we could help Mom harvest.

Oh yeah, we have pigs too.

This one's my favorite. I named her Caramel.

And this is my favorite "piglet shot". BTW, I named her Babe.

And we have a mommy pig - or a sow. We haven't named her yet.

Just two weeks ago I revisited the farm and I was surprised to see that we now have turkeys and sheep. The sheep are a little shy. They run away when you come near so you can't touch them and feel their uber soft fleece. Too bad. And the turkeys, they're laying eggs now! No egg has hatched yet but I'm looking forward to seeing little turkeys running all over the place. Unfortunately, I left my camera in QC so I won't be posting turkey shots and sheep shots. I promise to post them soon. For now, enjoy vegetable pics :)