Thursday, May 20, 2010
I’m here by myself sitting by the window side, watching people come and go while writing something that come to mind. One thing about me is that I rarely remember names but I almost (if not always) remember every face I see and the clothes they wear that particular time. Hair styles they sport and sometimes shoes they wear. At the end of the day I try to forget them and hold on to the faces that strike me the most. Then I try to write about it but no words usually equate what I truly feel about my observation, no matter how hard I try.
When I travel, I usually sat by the window. Trying hard not to fall asleep. I would watch the landscape that I passed by and trying hard not to blink because I might miss something - a very bad idea because I always end up becoming dizzy and I usually vomit before the end of the trip.
It’s a different here in the Metro though. Here where everything seemed to pass so fast I tend to sit by the aisle instead so I could get out fast enough before the bus leaves for the next stop. I wouldn’t want to miss my stop, else I would walk a thousand steps to get back to where I supposed to be.
I draw, whatever words fail to express I try to compensate it with my drawings and sketches. I don’t think that I am good with it, but I think it’s fair enough. I remember when I was in school I usually draw my teachers and classmates while listening to lectures. I would draw things with faces that would best illustrate them (I think). My classmates and teachers would end up laughing after seeing my drawings. It would always make me happy. Seeing them happy. Sometimes my drawings would end up printed in t-shirts and cards. I actually like it because they appreciate it.
I always draw people (almost exclusively). I like watching and observing them. Sometimes I caught myself staring at a person for too long and scold myself because he/she might find it rude. I appreciate every detail, every scar, and every line. The eyes speak a lot, I know if they’re sad or if they’re happy. There's something about faces that fascinates me.
I remember a conversation I had with 2 friends. They we’re asking me what I think of a person if I find him handsome or not. Or who’s the most handsome or the least that I know of. I find it hard to answer, not because I’m scared to offend but it’s just hard for me to categorize people by their faces. My friends concluded that I have no concept of what’s handsome or “pangit” at all.
This entry seems to be lengthy already and I don’t even have a plot. It’s just one of the lazy day that I’d like to be by myself because the person I’d like to be with the most can’t possibly be with me at the moment. But regardless how I miss the person terribly, I know there’s a reason why I can’t be with him for now. So I just close my eyes, write something and sketch, after all, I already memorize his face and by remembering him, somehow, it makes me not so sad anymore.
The Curious Cat
P.S. Image courtesy of http://rgr-static1.tangentlabs.co.uk/images/bau/97803162/9780316287050/0/0/plain/face-forward.jpg