Liebe Indeed

Sasha Knezevic & Anja Rubik
both effortless and beautiful for German VOGUE

German VOGUE celebrates three of this world's most captivating women on their cover and to make things even more beautiful (or more schön, as they say) these super female models brought with them their equally handsome boyfriends. The orange, white and sky blue colors are amazing...Now I want to learn German and read every single page. Liebe is really in the air, all the time. 

Karolina Kurkova being instructed by her boyfriend Archie Drury

Alessandra Ambrosio and Jamie Mazur, shaking things up

- Gerard

About Making Love

Jack Kerouac's On The Road...
NOW part of my all-time favorite reads

I had no money; I sent my mother an airmail letter asking her for fifty dollars and said it would be the last money I'd ask; after that she would be getting money back from me, as soon as I got that ship. Then I went to meet Ruth Gullion and took her back to the apartment. I got her in my bedroom after a long talk in the dark of the front room. She was a nice little girl, simple and true, and tremendously frightened of sex; she said it was because she saw such awful things in the hospital. I told her it was beautiful. I wanted to prove this to her. She let me prove it but I was too impatient and proved nothing. She sighed in the dark . "What do you want out of life?" I asked and I used to ask that all the time of girls. "I don't know" she said. "Just work and try to get along." She yawned. I put my hand over her mouth and told her not to yawn. I tried to tell her how excited I was about life and the things we could do together; saying that, and planning to leave Denver in two days. She turned away wearily. We lay on our backs looking at the ceiling and wondering what God had wrought when he made life so sad and disinclined. We made vague plans to meet in Frisco. My moments in Denver were coming to an end. I could feel it when I walked her home in the holy Denver night and on the way back stretched out on the grass of an old church with a road. Every now and then one would get up and hit a passerby for a dime. They talked of harvests moving North. It was warm and soft. I wanted to go and get Ruth again and tell her a lot more things, and really make love to her this time, and calm her fears about men. Boys and girls in America have such a sad time together; sophistication demands that they submit to sex immediately without proper preliminary talk. Not courting talk---real straight talk about souls, for life is holy and every moment is precious. I heard the Denver & Rio Grande locomotive howling off to the mountains. I wanted to pursue my star further.---- Jack Kerouac, On The Road "Original Scroll"

Lady Love

In the early 80s in Tokyo. My mom's the lady who looks like me (hahaha). The lady in red.
My Tito Mike's the one w/ the cigarette, my grandmother and my Tita Anne's the one in a striped sweater
That chic guy w/ glasses, I don't know, but my mom knows him.

I'm going to make this short, straight-to-the-point and sweet.

Today is Mother's Day and for this household, it's a big thing. I practically have lived life knowing just a mother and having only the slightest idea of a father thanks to my stylish Lolo, my Tito Ed and some other people. But with my real dad, well, it's a complicated case. 

Anyway, growing up with a lot of mothers (that includes my Grandmother and my Tita Sharon) has its effects. For people who know me well, they know what they are. They're not always the best kinds of effects, but the best kinds are worth passing on to others. What I've learned from my mom in the 21 years of life God has given the two of us one could never summarize in a sentence. If I had to, it'd probably be this: The most important things I could learn about love, I learned from her. 

She's taught me the highest kind of love there is and hopefully will one day be able to give it to more than one person. She's also taught me about responsibility and (surprisingly) how to be a man---which includes having the balls to owe up to my mistakes, being responsible for your actions, apologizing, knowing your boundaries, etc. She's become my image of strength, that when a woman is thrown out to sea by her man, to drive lives to safe shores, she'll definitely deliver, if not surpass the mightiest of men. She's introduced me to my life-long philosophy of "Simple and Elegant" (which applies to all facets of life). She's provided us the best possible everything she could provide and it'll melt your heart to know that if she had more to give, she'd never blink or waste a second for us. 

And just like all mothers and sons and mothers and daughters, we've had our rough patches. We get on each other's nerves a lot, but it'll only last for minutes. After all, we pretty much are like best friends. 

So today, I honor her for being an example of love unconditional. She has proven that what they write about on greeting cards, portray on movies, write on novels, sing in music and paint on art could actually exist. For me, the most cliche of sayings, that "My mother is the most beautiful woman in the world" is beyond cliche, cause it's true. Besides, she has taught me---one of my favorite lessons, that beauty is definitely not just the pleasing or the appealing, but the suffering, the victories that only come after, the hardships and the resilience of the human soul.

To the strongest, most sungit, incredibly generous, successful, loving and beautiful mother on my planet, I love you so much and you know that for every triumph and standing-up I've had and will have, you're to blame (hahaha).

Happy Mother's Day Menchu! Hahahah. Alam mo yan!

- Gerard

On A Bike Ride Away: A Letter to Possibility

Biking Away's never (felt) looked this good

Dear Possibility,

I used to question what it is about me that you didn't like. I never---in the first place, had the stomach to walk up to you and tell you how it is. And when friends listen to my side of the story, they say it's my bad...There it was, the possibility of having something like a fireworks show and seeing that everyday, slipping through fingers spread wide. I'd love to blame fear for this, but if there was anything more powerful than fear, it was my decision to stop the pursuit of "happiness".

I've grown old, tired of seeing myself lose (in the confines of sleep, of dreams, of a world kept far from everyone else) a projection of me next to you and it's a picture perfect moment of one among the many I could tell would've been great. I am tired of seeing you, and people like you as an escape to facing reality...Or to put it more profoundly, I have lost all my desires of being selfish, or gratified because you provided for me, the greatest escape and blank canvas I could run to and paint well with. I've just grown old.

And after, whenever I do see you, I throw my questions to you---though in my head, wondering if you're alright, or if you've finally gotten over the emotional stress you've carried around. But I never tell that to anybody cause I've told them only half of the truth. So maybe it is fear, fear of judgment, fear of rejection, fear of never being able to hear the same questions with the same amount of gravity I place in them coming from you.You have summed up for me "endless possibility" and this I believe touched me more than just figuring out what I could do for you to like me.

You are so promising, it's a gift that God has granted so little of us. People present themselves to you and they're causing you nothing but trouble, but these are the people you need because they push you to achieving and going beyond mere chances of becoming something more, something worth the space in memory...This, I see is the reason why I took a bike ride away...

If going too close and dropping the magical, double-sided phrase the world has heard of billions of times ever came to be, I don't think you would be able to be that someone I know you want to be. It's not that I bring people like you down, but it's just not my time to "love" someone like you. In the equation of love, you've given me the golden key to becoming selfish. And this, I knew would poison you and I. You're too precious, I'm too much of a mess....I want to see you set flight to the moon, or to wherever you could take yourself to, and I believe I'd only tie you down. 

You have helped me realize what it is I want, what it is that I am supposed to be and I thank you for teaching me that. Now I see you as a portion of myself, someone I naturally love at a distance. There is nothing in this world I want but for you to be great and awesome and the fulfillment of your own dreams. And as the years have proven, I actually do love you. Though in distance, God knows and the stars know them too, that this is how it is. I've never been happier. One day, when you do search for love in this world and maybe I'm somewhere in it too just lost in its far-reaching soil and sea, I just might pass you by on the same bike I've taken with me. If ever that shall happen, I'm sure I'm finally ready to be with you and put myself behind us. People will call it stupid, some will poke at me for a name, but I'll never break or ever tell them....

If you have chanced upon this letter dear Possibility, remember that on my bike ride away, you're physically behind me, but somewhere kept like a secret inside the complexities of my heart. 

I've been strong to let go of one, another just as precious is not difficult, but in fact has showed me my limitless ability to love....And I've never been this happy.

-Gerard

Remembering

I live in the past, you somewhere in the future, and in between....

Dear,

I never called you dear and probably wouldn't ever sound nice...As a joke, it would. Anyway, this is probably a product of keeping it all bottled up for quite a while, though my journal's witness to this long frustration. I give credit to one of my best friends, Tj, for bringing this same sentiment up. I've been meaning to talk to you face to face...Not to ask you back, or poke at a chance...rather, to get a feel of things better, when all that teenage dream has faded into just that.

We woke up from it, I know we both did even while we were together. Now, I believe you're all perfectly fine, and I am too. What we had envisioned for each other has come to fruition and it's beyond beautiful. You, a good student, soon a lover to a new lucky soul (a well-deserved soul I must say) and I, a passionate, freelance writer, plucked by the forces that be...This is exactly what I believe we had in mind: success, promise and that waking up everyday for a damn good reason.

I'm writing this, publicly, cause you know you'll never be revealed. You trust me, and I know that. I also write this here, cause it's the only way I could reach you. Physically, the distance feels like two, three long steps from each other, but in reality, the distance feels like worlds and times apart. I live in the past, you somewhere in the future, and in between...

Life has been great to me after that day...Friends and family and people and life itself took on that big space you once filled and I tell God, every single day that I am thankful for it. But what I do pray for too, even up to this very day, is that you feel the questions I've been throwing to the world since. I have moved on, partially...a lot, but never fully. There is no recovery from love lost, especially when it's like the one we once had. But I smile, I breathe and I live great, even without the thought of you crossing my mind. In times like these though, I do remember and I remember well cause I choose to lay time for feeling this. All I ever ask, actually, to the universe, to time, to God and to you, is not to tell me you regret the day you let it slip, or that you want me back, or the truth about losing it...I want to know if you still remember? If I have ever impressed deep enough to be remembered, at least in a short, fleeting second of your long, joyous life... When you see things that you know has meaning to me, to us once, do you remember how it was? When you check the calender and pass by dates special, do you remember us? When you look at someone who might've resembled me, do you remember what I actually look like? It's been pretty long since the day we've seen each other, and there was once (only once after that long relationship) that I saw you, passed you by and in that noisy crowd, I couldn't say hello. I had lost the courage to reach out and tap your shoulder cause I was really afraid how you'd react. I was within arm's length and you never noticed. You were busy talking to a special friend that I know is the lucky soul you've chosen to set your life to. And maybe, if I did reach out to you, you might've forgotten my voice, my face and my name. You don't have amnesia, I am sure, but it sometimes feels like it...

Like all people, it's the remembering that matters...I don't want to be taken back like a long gone dog. I don't want to be continuously bothered by messages from you....But what I do want, is to know if who I was and am really mattered to you. 

To me, you have once been that silver shooting star, darting wild and burning across my grey skies...It was fast, momentous and forever life changing. You have taught me to catch and wait and be vigilant for things rare and special and worth experiencing bliss and sadness for, no matter how long or short it is. And I wonder, if I had been able to leave just the same impact to you as you did to me. Don't worry, I am not sad. I am just nostalgic and grateful for everything...While it haunts me, while it matters, while language grants me its power, it is worth writing. 

When I have finally penned the masterpiece I have promised the world to read, your name will be there...somewhere in the lines and curves and periods of my novel. You, among a lot of others I've met and had left an impression, will be staring through the eyes of fictional characters, right through my readers' temporary ones, and they'll have an experience of you, millions of them, who will feel weightless and alive like I once did. And when you pick it up, when we're older and wiser, I hope it'll spark a tiny flame in your heart, that once, we had it, and that once we were. 

It is the only thing, I believe, that matters to us humans. Love dances and dies too, but the memory breathes, just as long as the mind gives it enough space. Leave me a small one at least, just so that when this all ends, I know all my time and love was well worth it. I have saved you one that's big enough to keep me hopeful, humble, learned, appreciative and loving.

Now, and probably for a long time, I have myself craned to the sky for that rare, bright shooting star that'll burn my black skies yet again, and probably just like you, it'll be worth all of long life's questioning, learning and loving...

Here's for remembering you, not like your dead, but because you will be alive, forever...

Love,

-Gerard

Love and Money and Magic

Browns and reds and bad legs

w/ Jemma "Jermy" Dela Cruz

Thanks Lesley "Leszles" Choa

Got my second Foundations of the Humanities paper this morning and I'm not happy.

If there's one thing I hate it's being stagnant and awfully consistent in a bad sense. Sure, Dr. Mar says I have written a good paper but the argument was nowhere to be found. Might as well nail an iron through my head.

Now, I am feeling the pressure. I have told myself that I shall produce a kick-ass paper since this last one makes up 40% of our grade. If I ace that, I'd be very happy and prove myself a legitimately sensible person.

So wish me luck. I want to consult the Magic 8 ball again, which has been occupying my mundane hours this afternoon and I must say, I am liking the answers I've been getting.

Magic 8 ball says it's in New York where my future is.

Magic 8 ball says this year, I'll finally meet the one.

Magic 8 ball says that one of birthday gifts is the exact one that's sitting pretty (expensive) on top of my list.

Magic 8 ball says I will become a GQ editor in the distant, reachable future.

Magic 8 ball says "feed me a cat" to a question I wanted answered (Me: Magic 8 ball, will I have beautiful kids in the future?)

Magic 8 ball says "concentrate harder and ask again" to a question about a person I use to like. And I do. Then it says that "its sources say yes".

Magic 8 ball says no to questions that have left my heart dipping up and down sometimes, but I'm still pretty happy that it answered yes to a lot of other relevant questions.

Imagine that, all your life's most pathetic and important questions one online billiard ball answers after every, single click. And I wish life was that easy. Oh well. I don't believe in it but I do it cause it's fun. And it sort of keeps me smiling. Like birthday girl Jemma (with me on today's look photo). She's so funny most of the time. It's still her birthday, so happy birthday! I can't wait to treat her and Cindy and my other close, close friends these coming days. I might seem like an extremely selfish person (which is actually provable) but when I have just about enough, I share a lot of what I have. So I hope I wake up tomorrow with money under my pillow so I could treat more friends out to drinks, cookies and milk and whatever else they want to have.

I'm still pretty bothered about my Foundations paper, especially when I'm writing about love. There are other philosophical pursuits I know I could write about but as I came to realize, all things here on Earth are actually founded on some kind of love. That's a totally different realization from the one I'm writing about and the point is, love is simply unavoidable, besides, we always talk about it but do we really know what it means and what it is? And if we do, are we, at all, capable of it? Hmmmmmmmm.....(I could already feel that iron being nailed through my head. Help me God).

-Gerard

(Always) About Love

A Moment in Time by Stuart Kirby

Last night, just like every other Friday night, I couldn't believe I was holding myself back from tearing up.

Go on and smile, cause this is me, investing emotions over a night class for my course. The Foundations of the Humanities ended last night and though we still have a 3,000 word paper due on Monday (October 18), it saddens me that meetings with Dr. Mariano has finally ended.

I might have frowned at the time slot of the subject, Fridays, 5-7:30 pm, but I have learned more than what I paid for.

If you're a student of the University of Asia & the Pacific, taking a class under the president of the university sounds scary, but believe me, fear, is the last thing you'll feel when you've settled yourself in the Arts Lab in the CAS building with your ears open and your mind empty, ready for 2 and half hours of mind bending, learning and unlearning.

I hope I make a good last paper because it's my last chance at showing the president that I've learned and that all his hard work and sacrifice were worth it. I also want to prove to myself that I am capable of doing papers that are legitimately philosophical that does not involve, fashion or people from the olden days of Hollywood. And of course, to put into writing what I believe is the truth I've learned from the class.

Anyway, aside from Dr. Mar being the best professor I've ever had in my entire life (believe me, taking a class under him is like seeing and knowing humanity), he's almost always going to make you cry. That's me. He says things in simple words, words understandable at the age of 12 and yet he strikes you because what he shares in class are things universal and true and very human. He's unconsciously talented at stripping you down to your soul and you're metaphorically laying out your beating heart and your stuffed mind on the table for him to whip them into better, human shape.

He's compared us to songs, how we're not all at once in one and how beings like us ought to spread out in time and space. He's mentioned how at the end of all time, when we do get to see God face to face, we'll find the truth and the beauty and the good. And just like what I've told Jamie Dio before, he's also mentioned that people ought to be treated like paintings, that the best way to treat a person is to contemplate them, possess them in a way that allows them freedom and growth. He's also taught me that there are definitely more things in life. That the deep seated questions we travel the world over for, the ones Eat, Pray and Love tell you of are all answerable when one desires to answer them. He showed us that the secret to life is no secret at all, that these things are usually the ones we take for granted, the simple and bare essentials that we grow blind to because we're careless beings. He taught me, during those grueling hour-long consultations, about the importance of language and being careful about the words we use.

He's also taught me about art and science and how things in this world are connected.

But the best thing I've learned from Dr. Mariano and from the voices he's been talking in and from taken from the greatest minds of all time, is all about love (always about love).

Last night, he ended our course with the question: "What is more important in this Earth? To know or to love?"

I for one am 90% sure of my answer and that is why I'm doing my paper on love. The love that I have only realized last night. The love that we all are built for.

I hope you know the answer as well.

You think it's obvious---and maybe it is---but it takes more unlearning, learning and mind bending for this question.

Well, I'm still praying I get a good grade from this subject, one that would hopefully qualify for a master's degree. If I do get a good grade, I'll meet the president again for another subject of philosophy. I will forever be grateful of the millions of things he's taught us and one day, I hope, I'll be able to face life in his own cool, unstudied yet wise ways.

Thank you Dr. Mar.

-Gerard

An Open Letter to Us

I love you (?)

I guess this overwhelming freedom that we all feel has led us to live less meaningful lives. And before you cast judgment-always-this is me, talking about "I love you" used in the most aggravating of contexts. Yes, we are back to love. And we will never be tired of it.

Facebook and Twitter and all forms of media has taught me that people, nowadays, just throw around "I love you" freely, like it's hello. I too sometimes fall bait into this open-mouthed-shark "now" syndrome. A friend of yours tells you she loves you, on---of all places---Facebook and since you were brought up not to be rude, you tell her you do too. But you don't. You're friends, yes, but not solid enough to type that and stand up for it when suddenly the earth opens up to swallow you're tiny lying ass.

Come on. If there's one thing this generation should be vigilant of, it'd be the millions of lies we encounter on a daily basis. And I think to myself, if most of the things are just 30% of what and who they really are, then might as well save some things for real people and for real occasions and for real places. I'm not washing my hands here. I am just as dirty and frowning as any of us are.

I am growing a little frustrated over the fact that suddenly, everyone's someone's lover, you know? A girl meets somebody for seven days, two weeks later she's I love you-ing that person on Twitter and then you ask her, what have you guys been through...Nothing. Or when a couple exchanges "I love you" in any kind of way, there's no more depth to it. It rings like something so common and ordinary. There's always that complaint about relationships ending up like robotic "kiss me here, kiss you there, we're for forever, right?" phase and I can't blame people for that. When you sling around those three words like it's spilled milk, nothing seems special anymore. I love you, for me, is the highest you could get to sharing yourself to someone else. And in our time, we throw it around like used paper...Whether someone means it or not, it just doesn't matter anymore cause it's as overused as "sorry" or "hello" or that awful lot "major major".

I don't remember being taught about "I love you". What I do remember is being brought up, valuing words. Sure I've lost grip of it and now I'm relearning it--thanks to Dr. Mar---for the purpose of actually meaning things. We have all forgotten what words mean and how much they weigh. Of course, it's not bad to say it when you mean it with all your soul and heart. In fact, that's the best thing you could ever say. For those of you who actually mean it, take damn pride in it. I just wish we all said things as if we sew our lives onto them, that once you let it out and the sound collapses in the air, people keep it because its the closest they could get to your most private and unrepeatable core. I'm sure that when you tell your new found friend that you love her/him with all your precious teeth out, you don't mean it as much as you want it to. And I'm sure that when you're being nagged to death by your chatty girlfriend and you say, "Babe, I really love you. Okay?" you're putting there probably half of you and half of that a sugar coated "please stop talking baby".

I'm probably getting sentimental. And I probably have a reason for it. Especially after reading Virginia Woolf's letter to her husband: some hundred or so beautiful words that's just bursting of love and yet not a mention of "I love you". Or James Dean's incredibly comical, witty and subtle love letter to one of his girlfriends:

"I never suspected one could know as few nice people as I know. My own damn fault. Lamas and scientists may fume and quander. Everything is not just illusion. You are my proof..."

You may point out how these two are exceptional since they're geniuses in their own respects, but they're human too. What makes Dean and Woolf different from you and I? We all go through similar human things. The secret was their subtlety. They were very subtle. They didn't open everything up so easily....But they meant it as much as they do say "I love you".

For me, when I say those three words, that's it...there's no turning back when you let it free. So make sure that when it lands, it'll press upon people deep enough that probably when we're dead, we'll remember it, hear it and feel it all over again. When those three words start sounding all too familiar, change it up. I love you, for me, is a lazy man's one-liner for everything else that's worth talking about anyone. So why don't you tell her to always stay the same. Or tell him to always keep his hair that way. Or tell your friend to keep on singing because she's the best you've ever heard. Or tell your mom that her three-day adobo tastes like heaven. There are so many other things about a person that you value and most of the time, we don't actually tell them that. For me, it's just as meaningful as "I love you". Only difference is, it's more tedious a task to keep highlighting their best and most loveable, but hey, you love the person so there's practically no stress to that.

We're such talkative people, but we don't say the best things, the right things...I told myself---especially after yesterday and today's life-changing consultation with Dr. Mar---that I'll do my best to treat words the way they ought to be treated.

.Gerard

The Battle

Love, Love, Love

Before I head off to sleep, I have to get this out of my mind first...

A news from someone just confirmed what I've been discussing with a friend days ago, about love. I could already hear the jeers...

Love is such a cliche. I mean, really, when people tell me about essays they've written and it's about love, I can't stop myself from cringing. Maybe it's because I'm bitter...You could say that. Or maybe it's because I've grown tired of all such store-bought romances...you know, the kinds you see in mainstream movies, the ones you experience second-third-fourth hand from friends. It's cyclical, much like life and probably the best reason why I shy away from writing about love when it comes to essays and papers is because I've had so little experience with and of it (sure, my closest friends, the ones that know every inch of my soul would beg to disagree). I do better when I write about life experiences in general, like fear, suffering, joy, triumph, friendship...Those kinds of things. Romantic love, I could try at it.

This is all but a simple dedication to a friend, who's going through tough times now. Actually, they're both my friends and even if they wouldn't probably read this, I'd still finish it anyway. I've seen them develop through such a short period of time and just like everyone else, they ended it. At the start it was all too shiny and promising even, that fireworks wouldn't do it much justice. They go through the most romantic of days winking at each other in an all natural and non-sexual way that it ignites sparks inside even the coldest person. They looked great together and those singles, like me, would just sip at their folly and pray they'd last. Well, here they are now, promising each other friendship...

Truth is, you can't be friends with your ex. You could try, at least, to tell yourself that it'll be the case, but you know once you've let him/her in and then it's over, it's over alright. You can't hold his/her hand as friends. You can't text him/her good morning as friends. That's bullshit. Then again, it's not always the case.

There are those special ones who break up only to find so much missing when they never see each other again. Those are the blessed ones...

And then you have people who go through so much, end up together, and then one dies...You end up nursing more than a broken heart because the moment you've shared more than just moments, it's like putting your soul on a stake, waiting for some burning.

Love, in general isn't sweet at all. It teaches you so much things...patience, loyalty, confidence, trust, sincerity, understanding, accepting...Education, we know is never like a bite of dessert. It's painful and it---at times---bores you to death. But you learn. After you get pass all the crap, you learn. When you decide your soft enough and malleable enough for all kinds of stretching and bending and molding, you give yourself to one of man kind's most poignant affairs...love. It's only love. You give your all, you lose everything else. Now, it's worth digging a grave for. Now, it's worth getting drunk over. Now, it's worth ranting about on Tumblr. Now, the pain is all that matters.

Love, may have ransacked your soul to horrible pieces, but it'll always be the same thread to piece you back up. It may not be in the form of a new lover, but it'll be as responsible in fixing you as it was in breaking you apart. People will always love, lose and then love and lose again. It's a battle, really. Hitler have won so much in World War 2. He's lost just as much too. Every hero has his equal share of victories and losses. You've never fully fought if you haven't won anything or lost anything...And you've never entirely love if you haven't lost or won it.

Years and years after pain and those dark nights you love looking back on, with or without a special anyone with you, you realize that you've become as smooth as marble and as tough as a diamond because love has carved you into one complete artwork. Look at me, writing about something I try to stay away from...And yet I think I make sense. I could say, based on my short encounter with love (well, at least one of them), that I have come out as beautiful as the David after the loss and the pain. I've loved enough and lost enough, only to come out with a sense of satisfaction, pride and joy. And now, I'm hopeful, as always, that in the near future, I could situate myself in some near perfection... That's love. It's the constant battle for hope that one day, someday soon, you'll pretty much be a stunning work of art, worthy of a spot in the Louvre.

.Gerard