09 - retrospect, a little and briefly

fifty-one minutes past midnight, fifty-one minutes past the last day in this country.

when change breathes this close to my face i am always silenced, always caught staring, always listening to the buzz in my head. i always look like i have nothing to say, but i do, i just get caught up in thinking about it or having conversations in my head or using every ounce of me to remember what's happening. to the people on monday night - i'm sorry all i could tangibly do was watch my fingers play with a packet of ketchup.

when change breathes this close to my face i always want to ask, How are you, What did you do today, What will you be doing tomorrow, Can you say you are happy?

what do you do when you're being pushed out the door while still trying to put the shoes on, still brushing your teeth, still looking into people's faces, still putting your earrings on, still trying to say what matters, still checking if you have everything in your bag, still counting your books, still writing a letter, still catching a breath?

it's an hour and six minutes past the last day now, and i am wondering how different it would have been if i hadn't spent a whole year being a hermit and putting my life on hold. would i have been drawn to the same people? would i be the same person that i am now? when Life started in summer 2007, then began these questions and the subsequent musing upon it. i have come to terms with the fact that that year of "putting life on hold" was a majestic momentous grand movement of introspection, which saw the end of my self then and saw the beginning of a renewed one.

somewhat ironic (and painful and wonderful) that this renewed one was to see the end of my self and was to see the beginning of an authentic one.

how many ends? how many peeled layers? an hour and eighteen minutes past the last day now; two thousand two hundred and thirty-two hours past the eighteenth year it's only been. no cookies for the one who can tell me how many more ends, unless you're the one who knows more than the apple does.

but you get a cookie if you know i'm terrified of these ends, if you know i'm excited about these ends... and two cookies if you're going to sit with me and these ends.

08 - writer resuscitation

little sprouts of life from the mind and heart of joyce carol oates (thank you kath) is getting me more and more desperate to be the writer that i used to be. it's funny how i never used to think i was. what is it with me and retrospection?

my friend eshita convinced me to start a flickr account. there is something so convicting in the quality of photos after being uploaded. it seems sharper, more alive.

so alive that it breathed life into two things on my plate right now:

the cebu photobook
after several shifts in project directions, it looks like the hungry children have finally found ground in this one. it doesn't diminish the rest of the pending projects, of course, but this really feels like the first layer of bricks.

after putting up a few photos from cebu on flickr, i realized what the wanderer looked for in every photo she took.

life.

and there is something about provinces (though i haven't been to many) that just makes it oozing with it. i'm thinking it's the simplicity of it all. nothing on earth seems more important than them living their life. men who sell coconuts in wooden carts lit up when they saw the cameras javi and i were holding. conversations in Cebuano sprung back and forth between kathy and the people of the province were so animated that i watched them, the words, more than listened. children ran and played out in the grass, through the mud, under the hot sun.


photoblog revelation
lightpaintbrush at blogspot has been stagnant for quite a while now, and i have realized that it's because i, once again, in all my obsessive-compulsive glory, have tried to box the process by making it too uniform, following a template too religiously, and most of all - never quite being satisfied with what is unearthed. i have belittled the treasure that God allows me to capture in a photo by thinking that it still needs to be polished, made up, dressed up.

while writing the description for the photo titled "tawa" on my flickr page, i suddenly felt the need to explain in great detail how the photo came to be.

and that's exactly what i am going to do.

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as of today, september 12, i have 12 days left. the crate is coming at 10am today to be loaded. life packed in a crate of 50 boxes, shrink wrap, bubble wrap and sticky tape. i managed to draw on one of the boxes. a lot has been happening and i wish i could sit here all night to pour it out. i am so afraid of forgetting.

dear God, i would love a day with You in London just sitting down wrapped in a blanket and talking about how i got to know You. don't let me forget, please. love, adi.