What is a name?

What was his name? What was his name?

What is a name?

I didn't plan to know his name.

But I saw his musical (percussion) instrument lying on the floor next to the chair. It was as if it was leaning on the chair, looking at me. It was like he was a child hanging unto his mother's side, looking at me, observing me,... hiding from me. And the guy's name was written all over it.

It felt as if it was not destined for me to know his name. But I knew. I knew, so what can I do?

Would it make a difference whether or not I knew his name? What if I kept seeing him and I would not ask for his name? What if he did not give his name to me?

If someone gives you his name, would it be taken away from him? Would it be yours to keep? Or would you two share it? What about the others who know his name too?

Names. They drive me crazy. So does he.

Circle

After that day at the beach, I didn't see him again.

Until I went to a gathering. He was there.

Everyone formed a circle. We were facing each other, we were on the opposite edges of the circle. I hope you can imagine what I meant by that.

I had an extreme need of a pen. And he had one. I don't know what really made him move, but he walked through the center of the circle to give me what I need. We were on opposite poles of the circle. If the circle had been the earth, it was like he went from north pole to south pole just to give me what I needed. But what's that one thing that I really need?

He stretched his hand to give the pen. I took it from him and he went back.

He reminds me of God. Savior, Provider.

It's odd that I still remember the scene clearly.

Think of A Beach

I dont know whether to start in the beginning, in the middle, or in the future, for there is no end yet. Now I even doubt if we had a beginning. If I had to pick, I would start where my memories take me.

Think of a beach. Not beside the water, but at the sandy areas, with lots of trees. You see a car, come on. Think like you are me.

In the car someone is looking at you.

You're looking at a chicken before you looked at him. Of course, of course. He looks young. While he was looking at you, his lips, or mouth, were half-open. Then he got off the car- he ignores you. Of course, because he doesnt know you yet.

How come? How come people ignore other people just because they dont know them?

Then think of the water. The sun. Nobody but him and 3 other kids are on the water. Not swimming, but they're just standing there.

And there you came.

You take a dip into the water. Oh my goodness, the sun burns your skin, and you see some kind of slug behind you. A pink one. Or was it really a slug?

No, no. You did not scream. Before you attempted to, there he was to "save" you.

With a cup he got the slug away.

With that act he took your breath away.

I wonder...

This was supposed to be a secret blog. But then, keeping things won't help me. I have decided not to keep things from anyone.

But I have decided to keep my identity.

April 07, 2009: Everything is too much for me now. I just sat back and watched dramas and movies, and cried because of the story..the acting, and everything sad about it. I never paid attention to my own feelings' contribution for that good cry.

I cried not because of the story, the acting, and all, but because somehow I can relate to them. It is not being a pathetic fangirl. It's just being a girl. That's all. Nothing's wrong with it. But it felt seriously wrong. I wonder why.

Today I realized that I have a story to share, too. I wonder if it would feel good if I write everything? With a bit of lie and mystery...so as to not reveal myself.

Would it feel so good like how hot beverage runs through the throat so smoothly? Or as good as the feeling when liquid flows?

Like drinking? Like crying?

I wonder..