Since we’re being honest
I dreamt about my ex this week. It hasn’t happened in a long time. Admittedly, I still think about him, but only in the context of how happy I used to be when I was in a relationship. I miss being involved, being intimately known. One of the worst challenges I had to go through post-breakup was the fact that nobody understood me as much as he did, and it was difficult to reconnect with others after realizing that the connection can’t simply be replicated. And I’m bound to miss this until I get into a serious relationship again.
Lately, it’s been getting worse, me missing having somebody. Back then, I was constantly happy, even when I was sad or disappointed. Now, my maximum high can’t even compare to my prior low. I think it’s time, and I’m ready, and it’s been a while, but the prospect of finding something better seems so dim. Something like back then can’t be borne overnight, or on several dates. It takes circumstance to get to know and fall in love with a person, circumstance that I unfortunately don’t have at the moment.
And, since it seems I’m in the mood to confess but not to edit, here’s another one: I’m scared to go through the process again. Of opening up and being vulnerable to another person, of trusting completely, of hoping and praying—because both of us will deserve no less. I never thought I’d come to this point, but really, the pain and disappointment of a failed relationship (should it happen again) are almost not worth it.
A good friend of mine is back in town, someone who went through daily four-hour sessions with me when I was a rough state in 2009/10. Of which, I’ll always be grateful. I like having her around, and also with her husband, partly because unknowingly, they give me hope that things will eventually fall into place. Their situation is not always perfect or ideal, but they always come through. And they always have a compromise, the lack of which eventually ended what I had before.
I’m not sure if something will work out when I leave (if I even get through anywhere). All I know is that I’d rather not have anything serious on the first year (been there, done that, pure stress). And that I’d rather settle back home, if possible with a decent career ahead, which is almost close to nil.
Ok. Back to work.
![I think, for a photography enthusiast, there are two kinds of experiences: those that compel you to fire away the shutter, confident that you can successfully capture what you envision; and those that you just want to take in, hoping that the stills will be permanently etched in your memory, aware that you are miles away from capturing the beauty and intensity of the moment. I think photography is much about mood or circumstance as it is about equipment and technique.
Calaguas fell under number 2, I think, because I brought my worries with me. A deadline for a grad school application I didn’t even feel like submitting, a statement of purpose I couldn’t write because I didn’t want to lie. A contract I couldn’t bear to sign. I’m overwhelmed and weeks behind my personal and work deadlines. Calaguas was beautiful, but also unsettling, because I was not where I was supposed to be.
This is why I never thought I’d make it as a professional photographer. The quality of what I produce depends much on my mood.
And yet, while half of my being was consumed with worry, but my other half was mesmerized because, and I keep on saying, it is beautiful. Water so clear and sand so fine that it became hard to distinguish where the sand ended and the sea began. Deep blue skies with puffs of clouds. Islets across with rolling hills and lush greens ideal for egg-rolling. I mean, really. As we were leaving the next day, the only term I could think of was “dream-like”. Did I mention there’s no cellular signal? And you can get stuck for days if the waves become unfriendly. It is the perfect getaway.
So emotionally, I was alternating between worry and amazement.
Then, perhaps my biggest frustration: I could have used filters. Up until that moment I have refused to invest in NDs or polarizers because it felt like cheating, and I took pride in knowing my photos are minimally altered, that I worked within and took advantage of my equipment’s strengths, and that where I cannot produce good results, I just let go. For the first time, though, it felt like I lost something precious. That moment, the sun and wind and relative lack of people, the company I came with, the bareness of it—they can never be replicated.
Note to self: Learn to use those filters before Coron.
Will I come back? Most likely not. [Draft]](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m3cnophBPw1r5hnkmo1_1280.jpg)
