weekend wonderland

I picked up a basketball when I was already in high school, though pictures suggested that I was playing ball since I was still a toddler. My first scrimmages were early morning games that our barkada used to play at a backyard court. I never had any formal training in basketball but I could tell I can play. Maybe it was in my blood, basketball was our family's sport in the first place. Me and my brother often joked that had we grown taller, we would have made it into some of the more prestigious basketball tournaments and not just the backyard games that we usually get into. When I started playing, I found that shooting was a natural gift (again, it's in the blood). Standing at 5' and 3" or so, the inside game was never really my forte though I never shunned physical contact. Shooting came as natural as breathing and when you get into a groove, every net swish is music to my ears.

During college I discovered the beauty and the pleasure of grabbing rebounds. It was not as glamorous as shooting those medium-range jumpers and not as graceful as slashing your way to the basket, but it leaves a flutter in my heart just to crash the boards. A famous coach once said that letting the ball touch the ground after a shot has been missed is mortal sin. Go for each loose ball, lose yourself in the process.

When I grab a rebound, the only thing i hear is the air up there. Okay, I may be exaggerating but words fail to describe the feeling when you hook yourself into a free ball, springing with all you've got and grabbing what 9 other people were fighting over. Grabbing a rebound is letting the game come to you.

When I grab a rebound, I feel alive... and the game starts all over again.

syn·chro·nic·i·ty
Pronunciation: "si[ng]-kr&-'nis-&t-E, "sin-Function: nounInflected Form: plural -ties

Coincidence of events that seem to be meaningfully related, conceived in Jungian theory as an explanatory principle on the same order as causality.

Synchronicity is doing the same activity at the same time, though separated by some distance and no apparent communication between entities existed that led to the said event.

Synchronicity is the blending that 2 separate breathing creates, the rythmn of 2 sets of foot falls and the 'melody of movements' that is 2 different entities moving as one.

Synchronicity is to share the dreams that you have and the same wishes too.

Bathing has always been a ritual to me. My bathing routine may vary depending on the available time but usually...
...I yawn and stretch upon entering the bathroom, strip, relieve myself and test how cold the water is by dousing some on my feet. My waking time is a lot earlier than most people and dousing my feet usually eases the initial shock of taking a bath, especially pag malapit na mag-christmas. I then proceed to brush my teeth, another way para magising...lalo na pag facial wash nalagay mo sa toothbrush mo!
I start by dousing myself with 5 tabo of water. Pag me shower, mga 2 minutes na babad...
(If I am in a hurry, I go straight to applying shampoo before soaping. During my rest days, I take time to sit around the bathroom and soak myself a bit. This feels good after a workout or after a game, especially a warm bath.)
I wish someone would massage my shoulders while I soak in my warm bath and...oops sorry, got carried away.
I would then soap my chest, then my arms down to my feet. I always make it a point to semi-banlaw (konti tubig, konti sabon, todo kuskos). Come to think of it, I think my bathing pattern goes like - shampoo, rinse; soap all over, rinse; facial wash, rinse...
I finish off my bathing by one whole body rinse, gargling 3 times, 3 tabo of water, rinse my (toot!, and no it's not what you think it is) and another 3 tabo before towelling myself dry.

I have been following this bathing ritual since I can remember, but I guess I would not mind if someone changes my daily routine for me (wahahaha!).

It was like waking up from a long slumber, it was as if someone from your past came up and told you you were a super-hero and somehow forgot your powers and your legend, it was like reading my own cenotaph and not believing that the deeds that were written there were indeed mine.

The cynic in me did not survive the weekend.

I discovered I was lacking something that defined my college days - PASSION. Somehow I lost something that fueled me to speak my mind and put everything into all my undertakings. "Anything worth doing, is worth doing well" as the saying goes. I do not kn0w when I lost it, but I now know why. My ideas were branded "stupid" and everything that I say needs to be censored, I was walking on thin ice. I was too grounded and underappreciated.

It took a lot of people to make me cynical...
I heard a lot of stories about infidelity, of broken dreams. It was a sad, dreary world and happiness can only be achieved by accumulating material things. Dreaming was not an option.

It took one person to make me remember the romantic that I was (and still am).
I am re-discovering how a good conversation really feels and that wishes do come true.

I spent the whole night painting. And while I still have an office clock to beat in the morning, I did not worry. I was loving what I was doing, it was on every line and every stroke. While the world around me slept, I am glad that I just woke up.