I'm not dead.
Just in case, you dropped by here looking for me.
Being away from the city, social networking sites and all other things left me feeling disoriented and distant. It's not just a feeling or a state of mind. I hate having to explain my absence and I'm never accountable to anyone on why I was on hiatus, something I occasionally do. Trust me, I'm getting pretty good at it. It's always the same things, getting self-absorbed, blog loathing and what have you. It's always the same vicious cycle that I go through, repeated episodes of rants and ruminations. Sometimes, I don't know what else to say. I run short on words probably cause there's nothing inside my mind and there's really nothing there to begin with. No attempts of being literary with all those beauteous words you have never encountered cause you've got short vocabs, leaving you feeling awestruck or something like it. Then, I'll end up getting 'praised' or 'comforted' after this non-sense rant. I just happen to be someone you came across with and followed through Google friend connect. I don't want to sound smart and well-read. I don't even claim to be one. I just want to rant and scribble all my thoughts away. I don't like to channel negative energy through my blog but this is my blog, dammnit! I can say and write whatever I want. At the beginning, I did mention about not having to explain myself but here I am, hitting the keyboard so hard and I'm not even pressing the backspace button.
The photos down below are from the backpacking trip in Northern Luzon with Bal Marsius. I'm not as good as he is when it comes to writing so you can waste your time by visiting his blog. This is not a sort of commercialism or endorsement, just merely an excuse for my lack of writing skills. The Windmills in Bangui, Ilocos Norte was the final and farthest destination, the last stop from the six day trip. I choose to post and blog about it first since I don't do things in chronological order and tend to them in reverse. Our jump-off point was in Baguio, a place where I'm not really very fond of. We always have to thank seat sales, at some point. Plane fare cost cheap but if you fail to check in at the exact time, you're not refunded with what you paid for and end up paying more. That's the downside of a seat sale but of course, you're not that stupid to miss your own flight. But if you do, it's not because you wanted it but it might be because of some forces of nature. It's not your choice but it's something out of control. It's the classic conflict of man vs nature. And you'll feel sorry about it, then move on and learn to do more time management the next time. Does it sound like we missed our own flight? If I tell you, I'd have to kick you. Kick you real bad you won't even like me.
On why Baguio became our jump off point - it's because the plane from Cebu to Laoag doesn't have a direct flight. There's a short lay-over in Manila and I hate being stuck in a place for hours, doing nothing and it's not part of the itinerary. I would rather prefer that we're moving while riding a bus than waiting for the next flight. From Baguio, we were advised by the locals to ride Victoria Liner all the way up to Vigan but due to time constraints, we ended up with a lousy liner named Chona-Patrick, something I would never ever recommend. We were way behind schedule thanks to them. They made us wait and did not even set proper expectations nor apologized for the delay. Enough about them. I've given them too much space, already. Travel time was more than ten hours and you'll realize how small Cebu is. The entire trip was similar to Amazing Race, beating the time and our own exhaustion as how he said it. But all those exhaustion are tossed away, when you get to see the windmills. I'm not even exaggerating. We would have wanted to spend more time there, watch the sun come down and the waves hitting the sand with all those cheesy stuff I'd skip to write about. It was just too picturesque. It really felt like the movies. I am also thankful with a camera's self-timer. Praise the person who thought of it, really.
Life is a series of departures and arrivals. And an unending bus ride.
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It started out with a kiss. How did it end up like this? |
