An Indirect Love Letter

This is some sort of acknowledgment for my Special friend. Her name is Reginadia. A "Socialist", a somehow interesting friend, too, a very special one. Regie for short (so, you’re getting famous in here. You might as well thank me for that. Haha!). We had this little conversation w hile back, a yahoo messenger chat. Some sort of what are you doing and how’s life so far. I said that I was updating my blog minutes before we talked. She asked for the link and I sent it to her. When I was still hibernating on blogland, when I haven’t reach my heyday of writing. She was, I think, kind of surprised after seeing that I posted a lot since her last check. She said “wow”. She browsed the page and saw some posts which triggered her interest

I smiled after her first comment. She said that my words was some sort of an indirect love letter. She said that it was a write-up of something that I want others to know but I cannot say directly. I think she is right. She knows it. I mean, she knows whom I am doing this for. She knows my intention, not my whole intentions but part of it. She knows that some of the posts there are exclusively for someone of high importance.

I am writing for myself, primarily, because I want to reflect on this some time in my life, when things aren’t how they used to be, when things have changed completely. I want to be reminded about my thoughts and perceptions. I want to know who I am in the past and what made me like this in the present. Somehow, I will have a clue on what I’ll be like in the future. As I always repeat, I want to make this a history and make myself immortalize thru this blog. It may fail, yes, but somehow, this is more trustworthy than an etch of my name in the sand where things usually meet and also separated. I want to mark my existence even if it’s nothing to most of the world. Secondly, yes, I am admitting that I post some of the stuff here because I know that he will come to a point of coming across this blog and read the things I want her to know, those things which are better left unsaid but worthy of knowing, those things which I cannot say directly and this blog is the perfect escape. So Regie is right, I think. I also agree that this blog is some sort of an indirect love letter that contains a “To: Mrs. Anonymous” in the top part of every post and signed with love by me. It’s invisible and can only be seen by those chosen and special people who know me, or at least, know me better than how the casual people see me.


I am astonished at the fact that even though I don’t include names in a particular post, people who know me will know whom I am talking about. I don’t know if it’s called conscience or the inner self but whatever it is, it’s naturally amazing.


Sometimes, people’s comments are what remind me of reality. For instance, the indirect love letter. I have that concept in my mind but it was blurred and unclear. I was not very particular about it and it happened to be that Regie was the one who formulated the perfect term for the stuff. Thanks to her that I was able to realize some realizations regarding my reasons of writing.

I am actually talking about: confessions, just her, on writing, out of randomness, realizing realizations

The Love Of Music

Some believe, as I never used to, that soulmates do exist. That there is one person in all the world that can bring about ultimate fulfillment, boundless love, and perfect completeness in your life. That such things are written for us in the very stars, through the Fates, or merely in our very biology. That if you never find that one, you will never be completely happy. But when you do find that one, you know it through and through, to the tiniest microbe of your being. I had never believed in this. I always thought music was my soulmate, for want of a better word. Music has always inspired me, lived within me, flowed through me beat for beat with my very heart. Music has been the background of all my life's moments, both in joy and in sadness, in love and in loss, in companionship or in my lonliest hours. Music has always been there, and I have adored it with a passion I never felt for anything, nor anyone else.

I, like most people I am sure, can name the tune that played, either in their mind, or around them, through all of their biggest lovelife moments. The first kiss. The first experience of lovemaking. The first great heartbreak. However, music has been so a part of me that I can recall the music that played around me, or in me, at most of my smaller moments as well. The first cup of coffee I ever drank. The first day of a new job. The first song I ever put on a cell phone. Yes, it may seem strange to most of you, but I am that musically inclined. It has to do with my MOM! I am sure, and the first time they took me out as a baby. I was few months old, or so they tell me, and she sat me on a speaker stack, in my bassinet during her singing session. With the lead guitarist, a friend of theirs, checking on me during songs, and they checking on me during song breaks, they were shocked to find I slept the whole way through, a tiny little smile on my baby face. Is it any wonder that music has been my one true love?

That is, of course, until now. So cynical was I that another person could make me feel what music has always made me feel, that to find a woman who makes me feel likewise, and more, was quite the shock. And I have found her, she whose voice fills my mind before music does now. She whose laugh is the greatest melody I have ever heard. She who makes me feel more alive than music ever did.

I shall always love music. It is my first love. But I have found the greatest gift a man could ever receive. The ability, and the joy, of being able to keep my first love, and my last love, in my heart together forever.

Better still, jealousy is never an issue, for she loves my first love almost as much as I do.

Until next time, my loving friends. Keep the music of love, and the love of music, in your hearts and souls.