Nocturnal Wish

For more than a week now, I have been besieged with sleepless nights. Oftentimes, I drifted off to sleep around one or three in the morning and woke up around six, in time for work. To tire my mind out, I watched movies or read books. But this is a tricky strategy especially if one is wearing eyeglasses.

There was a time last week when I slept as early as eight in the evening. I just came home from working at the lab and hit the sack, dead to the world. But I woke up as early as two in the morning. Unable to sleep anymore, I did some works, played some games and at the end, watched the battle of night and dawn.

But something mystical happened on Saturday night. It was way past one and my mind was very much awake. I tried different positions just to get comfortable enough to catch a wink. Defeated, I watched an episode of Fringe.  While Olivia Dunham and the rest of the actors try to figure out how to save our universe from destruction, my eyes glanced towards the window.

Something white flashed against the black night. It was curved at the edge.


It was a quarter moon.


I smiled. This is one perk of my new place. It has been ages since I slept while watching the moon. Then I forgot Peter and Walter Bishop. Or even Agent Broyles.

I’ve crossed slumber-land.

Bouquet for Mama

One of Mama's favorite species of Vanda

This is my second post for this month. I must be oozing with creative juice. “Classes haven’t started yet, kigs. That’s why!” countered my alter ego.

A bud of hibiscus
waiting to bloom

I spent All Souls’ Day with my parents in Bohol. For the past 5 years, Bohol became a second home. My parents live there and it is where my Dad grew up. Since rural life can be pretty slow, I’d like to amuse myself sketching the flowers in Mama’s garden.

Mama loves gardening. One can find daisies, bougainvillea, hibiscus,  vanda, chrysanthemum, adelfa, cattleya, santan and those I couldn’t name. She also have San Francisco planted at one side of the house.

When Mama wasn’t yet burdened with gout, she used to have collections of different varieties of a particular plant. Back in Gensan, she used to have a collection of different species of vanda, San Francisco, santan, and bougainvillea.

A bougainvillea found
right outside the porch

At some point, I looked at her garden back when I was an elementary kid, more of a forest. You can’t blame me though when the bougainvillea grew up high and its branches seemed everywhere. Not to mention, a fortune plant stood at the middle. But the sweet smell of the gardenia and Chinese sampaguita can entice a little girl to stay and play.

I did mention that Mama has gout, not to mention osteoarthritis to contend with. Her gardening becomes limited. So to step up to do the job would be my Dad, her knight in rusty armor.

To give you an idea on how they interact with regards to the priceless plants of my Ma, just imagine an elderly couple: the woman nearing 70 while the man mid-70s. The woman directs the man to plant a hibiscus seedling near the path.  Later on, the man presented to the wife the weed he uprooted from the garden. To the wife's dismay, it was the hibiscus. They sure are way past the honeymoon stage. 

Byways Along Our Highway

It has been a long time since I made an update. There is only one post for October and if I am starting a pattern, this might be my only post for November. I certainly hope not.

Let me share with you this ink drawing I named Highway. Even though this won’t earn me a P5,000 cash or a P5 coin, this piece has a special meaning to me.



During my month-long absence, I realized some points in my life. One of which is that we are all travelling on a highway. Some travels in groups. Others with a partner. And there are those that travel alone. They are referred as “the lone wolf”.

Different we may be, our inherent curiosity often prods us to check out the byways, the little roads we see that littered along the highway. And this is when the journey becomes interesting. For just like a game, each turn can break or make us. It might bring tears on our eyes or laughters in our lips. It can teach us to fight or die. It may consume us.

In the end, we find ourselves moving towards the direction of the highway. Given the patience of time, we reach the main road. But whatever we have experienced in the byways, we know we are no longer the same person at the start of the journey.