Fragranced Past

Fragranced Past
By Joel S. Aba

Has there a way out from your fragrance,
I would rush out and go
Where there’s a chance to meet
A celebration of the unending serenity

Out there, I would hope
For forever, eternal riddance
From the intoxicating fragrance
Where life breathes no longer,
Away from a piercing scent of past

Against hope I would hope
This soon will fade
In the dimmest of the dimmest
That fragrance I smell will spur no memory
Of that seeming everlasting love

A love that’s trampled in Hades
A love that I would hope eternally
That in the recesses of the soul
like the harvested fields,
the descending tone of songs,
the burnt books,
the death of mosquitoes,
the amnesia of a mind,
the spoken words,
the deflowered and dying ones,
like the parting of seas in Testaments
it would end, part, torn, everlastingly

Mourning should come to end
right now
Senses should identify no more
reminding me of that delicate scent
pointing a gun to my heart
where trigger may pull down and cause my death
In this gripping memory of you

Oh, keep me away from the fragrance
That even when you ain’t seen it’s still near
Nearer and nearer yet I dread,
like troubling waters
like the crash of winds
to the bending of bamboos that stays resilient
By time… I stand, breathing

For today, I would close the lids of mine eyes
yet still breathe
Hoping that when lids open again
in the light of day,
I dwell no more
in that only remembrance of you
And free you, my fragranced past.


Copyright, The NORSUnian's Handurawan 2009

Winds of Solitude

Winds of Solitude
By Joel S. Aba

I chased the winds that follow you
clinging to the ends of every strand
that dashed toward the still waters of the East
moving briskly towards an unknown end

I chased the winds that follow you
It moved through pristine forests and seas
And in ominous roads, tunnels, and cliffs
It turned me bruised as I clung

I chased the winds that follow you
The sun fed my unquenched spirit to follow
In turbulence I clinched in both hands
Pushing against the devastating force of the rage

I chased tightly to the winds that follow you
My life moved against the inevitable
My tears flew swift behind the shadows
That even the shadows constantly wished to set free

A louder call of the East reverberating
Have caused the wind to move swiftly and go
I tried to chase the last strand of the winds that follow you
Yet the strand of the wind has gone out of sight

The pasture of change cushioned the fall
The sun was up, yet I see nothing but darkness
Solitude wrapped the inside of my bashed spirit
And the brokenness left me nothing but empty

In this cruel fate I stood bold from the fall
Like how the horizon brings the sun back to life
And in stride I walk back to my lost, true self
Back to the self where I truly belong.

The Worth of A Battle

If there's ONE THING i want to change instantly other than to let somebody come back to me, would be to cut off my OJT, and transfer to another site with this reason: While on my way up to the seemingly insurmountable boondocks of Valenica, the nature - everything around me cuts within, seems to splice my heart into pieces as some reminiscences flood down my brain stems. I've cried my heart out. AGAIN, and again, and again.

Well, work hours at Energy Development Corporation could be easily described in two words - drifting, dragging. We didn't have enough work to combat drowsiness, with the chill from cold air conditioner, switched to the lowest temperature - just as cold as how she feels for me.

This is indeed a mellow drama. My dramatically excruciating battle to win somebody back again also seemed to me as a war of my thoughts versus my heart. It was the most not-as-easy-as-it-sounds heartbreak in my life, that literally ceased my world's turn. My life stopped and i felt the need of picking up my broken self on the floor. The pain of picking my broken self down made me believe that I've expected and invested emotions toward one person all that much.

After days of battle, emotional oppression and debacle, i ceased the long fight. I laid my cards down, i threw the ball off the court, I stopped running the race in the oval, I smashed the dice, I laid the joystick down - i QUIT and shut the game off.

Just like a real-life battle, losing it was not easy. I was scathed and felt abandoned - my life brought me back to the hell i once was.

My life went on, on a different pace. I was treading on a new, changed, and different life. I still wake up early to wait for the company bus to fetch me, and like as it always was, i have no enough work to do.Finally, I bumped on a chapter of my my two-year old book entitled, "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff" in an unintentional and unplanned reason.

The chapter entitled, "CHOOSE YOUR BATTLES WISELY" built up my life quickly back again, that i finished reading the 100-chapter book for only two days. I read the lines, LIFE is filled with opportunities to choose between making a deal out of something or letting it go, realizing it doesn't really matter."

Lines like "Ask yourself the QUESTION, 'Will this Matter a Year from Now?'" opened my eyes into the realization I never expected myself to value so much. I realized that if I don't want to "sweat the small stuff," its critical for me to choose my battles wisely. If I do, there will come a day that I'll rarely feel the need to do the battle at all.

After everything, i closed the book on its 100th chapter and realized how much wasted effort I've invested but lost... BUT THEN, "the battle, indeed, was not worth fighting for."

Straight or not Straight?

Below are two pictures. The first one was taken sometime 15 years ago. The second one was taken December 2008. Don’t be duped! The first picture isn't me. It’s my brother Germano Aba, now 30 something, working and living apart from our family for about 11 years now. He is probably the only person in the world who has the closest facial profile with mine (except Joe Jonas, of course) that even my neighbors and grandparents often makes me a misnomer. Worse, even my parents erroneously call me with his name in some of our conversations.

(BEFORE AND AFTER? 1980's vs. 2008 - two decades now, and I'm still young. hehe..)












But this doesn’t drag me up to my insecurity even when my parents, sisters and relatives often tells me that "Manong" was more handsome than I do. lol. I love my being me, even if there’s someone who apparently looks like me 15 years ago! =)

But just so you know, he’s 5’9 in height, Silliman University CBA cheerdancer in the 80’s, FU Cheerdancer of the same decade, host and public speaker, vain, hot guy (according to cousins), barkadista, cream-of-the-crop – and yes, Gay (No, not the cross-dresser guys, just the so-called “discreet”).


As a matter of fact, he’s living with somebody. Together, for almost 10 years now, they both own a small business with a computer station in Manila – and happy. My brother goes to his work in Quezon City, while Ike, his partner, takes charge of the business at home.

You may ask, why am I getting these issues out about someone who has caused degradation and shame to my family?

This is actually my first blog that talks about homosexuality… and this seems so interesting. Well, months ago, I was tasked by the publication to write a column on gender issues and sexuality. While typing down my thoughts, it flamed my concern with how homosexuals these days are insulted, and emotionally abused by people who have less understanding of their kind, and who have less concern for their cause. Scribbling information, I couldn’t think less than my brother who has now recovered out from the discrimination of other people during his college. He even had girlfriends then, jived with tough guys, had musculinity all over, etc... etc... But as for his experience, suppression of what is innate in one’s sexuality only causes more confusion and frustration. That time, my brother chose happiness rather than the torment of living with somebody, and facing the consequences of a suppressed life.

Now, his story also reminded me that not all men who look very straight, not all men who jive with men’s bandwagon are straight guys, as the magazine says, “Straight man is the new gay."

There are even a lot of them, whom I secretly know anyway, still does the same thing with what my brother did – jiving with guys as much as they could to cover too soon what has become, well, in many instances, an obvious and dubious act. These gays have not gone out of public rather, suppressing themselves in the boundaries of being man.

I am not discriminating those who try to be unnatural to cause others to think the other way. The fact that these kinds are also discriminating those who get “out” or the “confessed discreet gays,” makes me and some people raise eyebrows. Worst, they never know that people are already talking behind them.

To combat these, those people should know the rule of living a life: Be who you are. My brother never have had to be "womanized" to live a life he wished to. Let it out, but live a life accordingly. With that, just like my brother, you will get the apt respect you needed.