Monday, September 15, 2003
I wrote this in my third year of High School and included it in the first compilation of written works that had been a project at the time.
Yellow Blossoms SHE JUST STOOD THERE... in the gentle shower of rain, eyes closed and head tilted up to the heavens, soft tears mixing with the frail rainwater that tumbled steadily down like a waterfall. She was lost. Lost out in the world that she knew well enough to be her own. Lost in the crowd, in the bustle and movement that was. And she trembled because there was nothing else for her to do at that time but that. Bowing her head down, the loose strands of her long raven hair matted and drenched, she opened her eyes for the first time in five minutes and swallowed quietly as bent down to pick up a flower. Plain, really. Simple at most. Nothing particularly special about the small bloom. Just one of those yellow blossoms you see off the side of the road. Whether it be on the way to Filinvest Alabang as you take the Coastal Road, or even just on the sidewalks leading to the Makati area. The stem was broken in two places. Snapped off at the bottom from where it once stood tall and radiant, dancing to the breeze and the songs of the wind. And at the neck, where the quiet observer would notice that the flower was partially crushed, with only one petal among the rest left smooth and clean. All in all, the bloom was bent in an odd angle, very much like a person when they've broken their neck. Painful, really. "I suppose you’re a little like me right now." She told the flower in a hushed and quivering tone. Broken and hurt. Taken away and left to fall and break at whomever’s whim. She felt angry inside. And hurt. She wanted so badly to punch something - anything - as long as it would take away whatever it was that was clawing inside her chest. "It's never fair." She seethed unhappily through clenched teeth, nearly giving into the urge to crush the flower. You really believe that, Ielle? The gentle voice that whispered into her ear - soft and airy, yet solid and real as any other voice. And so much like the wind she'd once felt in the trip that she'd taken with her closest friends to the butterfly farm in Cavite so long ago. She spun, her vision still blurry from unshed tears. Her mouth clamped shut even as the words formed in her head. Who…? You really believe that right now, don't you, Noelle? She could only blink as she gazed upon the slightly shimmering figure before her. You really believe that you’re alone in this? That no one else knows? A tender smile played on the faerie's lips. You're right. In a way. There was a faint hint of a cheery wink. But don't you see that you have that one little flower so grateful for the love you’ve given it. Just like the one you miss. The one we miss. The one your closest friends seem to miss as much as you. She smiled again and shook her head at me. Yes, me. Eighteen and partially jaded to anything else at this point. Me, whose eyes tremble with question even as my hand drops to the denim bag slung on my right shoulder. As my fingers seek to feel the shape of my Oracle cards. The same cards that Sam had given to me as an advanced Christmas and next-year's birthday gift. The same cards that hinted of this small image now looking me stright in the eye. Everyone's lost in the world once in awhile, Noelle. I blink to my shoulder where the Fee-Lion, who has been my constant mental companion sits comfily on my shoulder, his wings - wispy little things that open and close like hands made of water and air - dropping down his frail back. He gives me a small smile. Don't give me that 'Goddess-I'm-going-halfway-insane' look, Noei. If you have to be crazy, go all the way. "I'm going to need something more balancing than a long nap right after this." Fine then, but listen to Tait and Fee-Lion and me for now. Lord knows you, of all people, need to indulge in a little bout of neurosis oncein awhile. Cyris slips his strong, big hand in mine. That black billcap with the bright letter 'C' ever noticeable. My GA. Guardian Angel. That voice of reason, my conscience. Funny how he just had to be a HE. "Fee and Tait are right, Noe. People are lost. They either don’t know it. Don’t believe it. Or simply don’t care." That graced me a third smile from the third ethereal being to give me a mini-lecture meant to snap me back to my old self. "'But there are those who aren’t… those like you'," He smiled sadly, quoting, and brushed away the strands of hair from my face. "People who know. Who realize. That being alone simply means you need to reach out to others and show them what they don’t see, they refuse to see." He adjusted his cap, ever hiding eyes I have yet to see. "What people need," Taitin flickers to my nose, "is here," her tiny, lavender-glowing, fae hand pointing to my heart, "And here." To the center of my forehead. "Dorcha said to tell you that everything you need at this point lies within you." She angled her head to the Fee-Lion who I felt nodding right at my shoulder. "In you, and in those like you." The two chorused as C faded quietly into the air. "What there is that remains for you is the love in the countless eyes around you." I recalled the short story I'd written back in third year. Since the situation seemed to familiar. No - not really familiar, to be accurate, more the same than anything else. As if I was acting it out with but a few tweaks in the characters and dialogue. So I closed my eyes and remembered the words I'd written. Willing them to come floating to the front of my mind: Not the fame, not the glamour. Not the materialistic things, nor the thrills and easy fun. I opened my eyes again to find myself sitting on the edge of the Tambayan table along the SJ Walk. And the rain had finally stopped for that moment. Lifting my head I see Dani and several others approach, and my 3310 vibrates in my right pocket. Probably Mom, I suppose. Or Harle. "Nyre, you okay?" D asks as she settles beside me on the table, calling me by the nickname only Melody from the HS Barkada called me. Her bright and concerned doe-shaped, brown eyes watchful of my slightly forlorn expression. "Fine cher." I smile and lift the cellphone out of my pocket to read the SMS. "Sam's at Coffee Club. Tara?" The easy smile and nod that comes from her makes me smile. "Gyeh. Takte. I want Irish Cream." I grab my things and sling the denim bag onto my shoulder. "And then you can go on swooning over your Labsh again and I'll give you and Sam both the readings I owe you guys." "Ha. Ha. Very funny. I don't even want to think about that guy anymore. He's occupying too much precious space in ym head." I watch, half-amused as she presses her fingers to her forehead in the trademark fashion that I know well. "Labo niya! Kasi! Kasi! Ba't pa kikindat?! Ba't ba ang cute niya?!" I raise my left brow and throw her a smirk. "Don't ask me. If the man wants to wink. He'll wink. If that man wants to be cute - he's cute..." I quirk my lips in a wry manner. "And naturally, he's as full of himself as the nicest men can get." At this point I string my arm through hers. "Tara na. Sam's waiting - and so's a tall much of Irish Cream with my name on it." The clouds part above, and that single bright ray of sunlight peeks out from where it was once hidden falling lightly upon a single flower sleeping on the verdant grass. A single, plain and simple flower. Just one of those yellow blossoms that grow off the side of a country road. A blossom like you. Or like me. But that can make miracles happen for those in need. In Loving Memory of Quin Ocana-Pico December 10, 2000 - September 11, 2003 And now, I am officially on blog-hiatus. Final Words: Cheers to the DLSU Blades who won 10-8 against the Southmall Tigers in last Saturday's RINX Cup Finals, Game 1. Hope we win again this weekend and show that LaSalle works hard with heart. Athens - you have your answer. Marc - I'll have to apologize if I won't be in tip-top form for bonding. Good luck at the Debate thing. Blessings go with you. Hope - do me favor sweetie, I'd really appreciate a candle beneath Mama Mary and a small quiet prayer from you for Quin. Pass the message on that me and Flip miss the group at VOSA. We'll try to come back soon. Hectic lang talaga. Mai - good luck with school. I know you can do it. Kai - take care of yourself. Hope you can drop by tomorrow. 'Sis - I miss you already. I'm done with your reading. When are you dropping by? Harle - we'll talk more and bond more, okay? Marami pang kailangang sabihin. and to Leander: Thanks for humoring me the other night by talking French on the phone. Hope you do finally show your tush here by December. Maybe then Mai could pursuade you to go to morning mass with the rest of us (which I hope to happen since it's been so long since I've been to morning mass). Take care. melina @ 10:41:00 PM )O( |
She is a Wiccan by choice with Roman Catholic roots thanks to her parents and believes everything has a reason, and that
fate does not equal coincidence.
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Noelle "Ielle" Pico - - - - - - - - - - - PHOTO UNAVAILABLE - - - - - - - - - - - status: vocalist/songwriter "I love Amy Lee from Evanescence and admire her style in singing. Her voice is heartbreaking and it just gets to you. I'm not saying I want to be her, but to be able to sing as good as she can, and as honest as she can... that's enough." - Ielle on her singing idols. tracks: Foundation Imperfection (Guinevere) Give Me Freedom Coffee and Nonesense
PERSONAL COMPOSITIONS: On Butterfly Wings
ON MY BOOKSHELF:
BOOKS The Last Unicorn - Peter S. Beagle Titania's Book of Hours - Titania Hardie Enchanted - Titania Hardie In the Circle - Elen Hawke >>Note to: Doggieniichan CDs Celtic Emotions Troika Goddess Faeries Adeimus Songs of Sanctuary Dances of Time The Eternal Knot Leean Rimes - Twisted Angel Tori Amos - Scarlet's Walk Evanescence - Fallen Santana - Shaman SENS ~any album as long as it's theirs
i can't see tomorrow ielle's bracelet dancing in the dark soundtrack collection dinner serenade (042103) of roses and rain Template was designed by Melina Dauphin and encoded by Maia D. Special thanks to Meemee for providing Maia the necessary tutorials for CSS. The images on this blog are mine, taken from my computer. The moving pentagram - I do not remember where I found, but if you made this, feel free to email me so I can give you due credit. The faeries by Brian Froud are scanned from my own Faerie Oracle deck. These are not my works of art, and I scanned the images only for my personal use.
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