Some people live beautiful lives and they take pleasure in being wanderers. Some people live unfair lives beautifully and they find joy in being loiterers.


The first time I encountered the term ‘loitering’ was when I was a grader. All over the hallways of my school back then were reminders stating “NO LOITERING ALONG THE CORRIDORS” and student leaders took the rule seriously by dragging to the office of the Principal whoever was caught staying along the corridors. I have always thought loitering as illegal, a bad thing to do, a violation. Today, loitering to me is salvation.

To loiter is to stay in a place for no reason at all…to lag behind…to stop idly delaying something…It isn’t a crime at all as I used to think of it when I was a grader. At the moment, loitering is saving me from overthinking, stressing over and worrying about fickle matters.

Days have been passing me by and each passing day I seem to lose a part of me to frustrations when I am fully aware that there is a great deal of joy I am putting away just so I can bleed over the wrong decisions I have made in the past. I carry the weight of the past around allowing it to slow me down to where joy truly is and weighing me down instead of being strong enough to afford a simple smile. Short or long, the days have left me depleted, drained and devastated. Until one day, I decided to walk aimlessly. Then I decided to keep still. That was then I knew what I have been missing.

Walking aimlessly may sound like I have gone nuts or something. But the real score is, I have been walking around, sometimes chasing, running and leaping for things I would never have the power to control, and I have never given myself the opportunity to see myself in the very things that I just allow to pass me by, like the days that were supposed to have been spent with a better purpose than just having to get it over and done with. As the passing days consume me, I do not even recognize myself anymore. I have lost me.

So I have stopped and stared at familiar and unfamiliar places alike, hoping to find myself again. There are pieces of me everywhere and I have been too busy brooding to notice that even broken pieces show a beautiful story. I am everywhere, and I have to be a loiterer to be able to attract back to me the wondrous pieces I have thrown out because I do not want to be reminded of how unfair life is (truth is, life is really unfair, but someone told me that life is unfair but is still beautiful, and I believe him). In stopping by without purpose, stepping back a bit, staring while in senseless stops, I have seen once more how beautiful this life can be.

Even though I cannot promise myself that I will never have to lose my way again, I know that I can never be completely lost. Even though I cannot promise myself that I will never have to slice pieces of myself up, I know that I am not beyond repair; I can be fixed. That is the salvation from being a loiterer.


Some people live beautiful lives and they take pleasure in being wanderers. Some people live unfair lives beautifully and they find joy in being loiterers.


So just let me stop and stare.


Make Up Transformations

Today is the first day of September. Today I realized I have not been wearing what I am supposed to be wearing. Today I realized I have been flat, bland and emotionless for the past months. For the past months I have been hiding behind smiles and sarcasms without regard for how beaming or sour I appear to people I face. For the past months it might not have mattered to me, but it might have to those who look up to me and those who don’t and are dying to have my face off theirs.

For the past months I wore nothing but my ordinary face, but today I decided to have my make-up on.

This would be the ultimate test, the great action research, the insightful experiment: will a touch of crimson on my lips make me sound more interesting? will a stroke of eyeliner make me look more sincere? will a dash of powder make me glow with optimism? will make-up transform anything in me?

I could only guess.

Spiritual Quest

Come oh Holy Spirit and fill the hearts of the faithful.

I should have gotten it the first time, but it took me ten years to really embrace the purpose of starting the academic year by invoking the holy spirit.

More than the aspiration for a fruitful academic year, for the prayer for blessings and guidance as the quest goes on for academic excellence, for the desire for successful steps towards earnest goals for self and others in the academe, I finally figured out what it is I really yearn for in taking in the gifts of the holy spirit after I had a close encounter with myself during two eucharistic celebrations I attended. When it finally hit me, the realization was warm and strong that truly I have been having a weak spirit all along.

Maybe it was not until I opened my wounded and weary heart when I finally realized why the holy spirit has to be upon me, with me, in me. I have been to busy with iron works on the twists and curves of my existence that I went on pretending to be grateful and blessed but the reality is, my heart has not been full. The holy spirit came in like stray tears falling from my eyes unnoticed by everyone else except by my restless heart. When the holy spirit hit like that, I seemed to be searching for something, scanning for a hint, envisioning a clue.

The surge of the close encounter with the holy spirit was like a sudden strange feeling of weariness translating to a racing anticipation for something better felt.

The truth is, I really do not know what I am talking about. But God knows how I feel right now is beyond ordinary. I am not saying that I am a renewed Christian now, or a more faithful kind. Because truthfully again, I am not up to change whatever it is that I or other people expect me to change. But something stirs. And it is good. It has to be something good.

Whatever it is, I think a new quest has just started.